It's amazing what this planet has gone through. Not that its history is really more impressive than Cybertron's, but Earth's inhabitants are so much shorter-lived than Cybertronians. Where Cybertron's culture changes as slowly as we do, the humans' cultures were rapid-fire, changing in the time it would take for a cold reboot. Still, when Cybertron came into contact with Earth, some of the cultures steadied and thrived for as long as the Autobots'.

That's Earth's legacy to us, the Maximals. Out of date, and most of the time making no sense, but there in the databanks. Humans still celebrate holidays like Christmas and Mothers' Day, and there are records of them in our files. Since the protohumans are the closest to humanity on Earth so far, that really doesn't do much good for us. As soon as we figured out that this world really WAS prehistoric Earth, though, Optimus began digging up information on it. We are an exploration team, after all. Studying cultures we came across was part of our original objectives.

I fail to see why observing holidays would be part of that, however. For one thing, it took extended research to find the old, human calendar that the planet used to go by. As far as I know, only historians ever use it anymore. But by watching the moon and stars, the plant cycles and wildlife, Optimus and I were able to figure out when in the calendar year we were. Thankfully, we missed most of the winter season's holidays; I have no idea how the other Maximals would have reacted if Optimus insisted on observing the gift-giving common to the celebrations. Not to say that Depth Charge and Blackarachnia didn't grumble enough when holidays like Valentine's Day and Easter came along. Only Cheetor and Optimus seemed to really throw themselves into humanity's festivities.

This most recent holiday, though...the spirit of mischief seems to have taken over everyone. A bird's egg, painted for Easter but apparently hoarded until today, was mysteriously cracked open in Silverbolt's quarters. He complained about the smell, but Blackarachnia only smiled and dragged him off. I suspect that plans for revenge are being made, for the first day of April has only just begun. Optimus is positively gleeful. Despite how stern and calm he can seem he is young for his command, and he enjoyed plotting something special today just for the Predacons. A rotted fruit trap disguised under a false energy signal will lure Megatron into investigating. If nothing else, it should keep the Predacons occupied for today trying to wash the stench of spoiled vegetation off of themselves.

Depth Charge has even relaxed enough to pull a prank, something I hadn't expected. Grim and cold as he usually is, he spent last night perfecting his plan with Cheetor and Rattrap, enlisting me to keep Optimus busy with the computers until they could set up the paint bomb ambush in the hall. I heard the results of that only moments ago, and it appears that Primal has declared paint war on the delinquents. I think Blackarachnia must have mixed the first batch of paint for the threesome, but according to the computer screens in front of me, she's sneaking up behind them with Silverbolt...it looks like justice on whoever egged the fuzor's quarters will soon be dealt.

It looks like fun, really. Depth Charge had actually wanted me to join them in pelting Optimus with pressurized paint globes, but I refused. It's not so much that I don't WANT to; I don't have a problem with having fun at all. But the fact that Depth Charge himself asked me reminded me of why I shouldn't.

I know the other Maximals think I'm almost part of the computer systems. I know I don't get outside much. I know it seems like I'm the gentlest, most passive 'bot in the Maximals. However, I also know why. I once smashed Terrorsaur into the ground without even really trying. I once threatened Rattrap and Dinobot so fiercely they both backed off from each other in the middle of a leadership fight. I once attempted to take over the Predacons.

I blend into the background because things happen when I don't. And that scares me.

Gentle? Passive? Ha. I don't have these "Chainguns O' Death" for decoration, and I don't think any of the Maximals here on Earth with me really know why I have them. I had them long before I joined this exploration team, and it's not because I'm gentle and passive. A brutally accurate picture of who I really am would be a subtler version of Tarantulas with a different faction symbol and without the laughing problem. I had a track record of experiments that would make the Predacon scientist stop chuckling and blanch in horror if he only knew. I was a rising star of scientific advancement through a lack of morals, and the only reason I was a Maximal was that the High Council funded most of my projects. And, yeah, I had fun. I love science, I love technology, and I loved my job.

But that's why Depth Charge's offer of joining in the fun triggered the response to deny it. Depth Charge has the memory of Omicron, but he could put it aside for one day. I have the memory of being responsible for the monster that destroyed Omicron, and I'll never be able to put it aside. I had fun, alright, but the fun of research and experimenting can never measure up to the thousands of colonists who died.

I swore I'd change after that. No more fun; not at that cost. I work with computers and non-sentient things almost exclusively; technology and biology, computers and plants. They might die, but they don't scream. I was ideal for the exploration team this was supposed to be. My skills would be useful and harmless.

Then came the Beast Wars, and everything changed. It takes a lot not to just tweak a couple of things with the protoforms, or with my fellow Maximals. Old habits die hard, and this is war. What happened when I let go showed what I used to be, but I don't want to be that again. Optimus knows that I was involved somewhat with the Protoform X project because I was there when he was finally forced into a stasis pod, but he thinks that final phase was all I was involved in. I'm not going to tell him any more than that, and I'm certainly not going to tell Depth Charge. I have enough guilt already.

The paint bomb hit the computer screen with a dull "splat," and the green 'bot in front of it raised his arm too late to shield his face from the splattering of bright yellow. "Hey!"

"Oops!" A multicolored Cheetor skidded to a halt and dodged to one side of the doorway, holding a pressurized paint globe in one hand. "Sorry, Big Green!"

Depth Charge flew through the door at an angle right then, barely missed by a red paint bomb that hit the floor and splotched Rhinox as he turned in his chair. The ray transformed and knelt on the opposite side of the doorway from Cheetor, laughing as he glanced back at the frowning Maximal wiping at the paint spots. "Looks like Blackarachnia got YOU instead of me this time!" It didn't seem to bother him that he had a large splotch of neon orange on his right fin and another one of purple on the side of his leg.

"Comin' through!"

"Eat blue, 'Bird-Dog'!" Cheetor yelled, throwing his paint bomb through the doorway as Rattrap zipped underneath his arm in dragster mode.

The rat braked violently and spun out of control, slamming into the base of the computers and whooping in triumph at the same time, "I got him!"

"YEEEEAAAAAAAH!" both his conspirators shouted victoriously.

"How are you liking hot pink, Primal?!" Depth Charge jeered around the doorway.

"Take THIS!" Blackarachnia yelled distantly, and the ray's eyes widened as he stared straight down the hallway.

"Slag," he moaned an instant too late, and a moment later he sputtered as black paint exploded in his face. "She's got a blasted LAUNCHER! How the SLAG did she get that?!"

The parts of Cheetor's fur not matted down with paint stood on end. "What're we gonna do?"

Rattrap shook his head mournfully and hefted a paint bomb. "We're gonna die."

"Not necessarily." All three paint warriors looked at the previously quiet Maximal in their midst with surprise. Rhinox smiled back at them, the normally placid expression twisted into something more like a smirk. "Give me the rest of your paint bombs."

They looked at each other, then back at Rhinox. "Why?" Depth Charge asked suspiciously.

The smirk/smile widened. "I want to have some fun."

Optimus, Silverbolt, and Blackarachnia were creeping up the hallway cautiously when Rhinox loomed in the doorway ahead. They had just enough time to see the strange tubes rigged onto his chainguns before he raised them.

"April Fools," he said cheerfully as he started shooting...paint.

"Where did you learn to do THAT?" Depth Charge manages to ask between chuckles as I spray paint all over the fleeing Maximals in the hall. Cheetor and Rattrap are busy disconnecting empty paint bombs and connecting fresh ones to the tubes leading into my guns while they laugh uncontrollably.

I smile and don't answer. For once I'm having fun harmlessly, and I don't want to jinx it. My amusements are changing, and for today at least it's easy to find a way to use old knowledge like a fool, not a killer. The memories are still there, of course, but I don't have to dwell on them forever. If Depth Charge can forget for one day, so can I. If it takes tricking each other and pulling pranks, then maybe this human holiday is worth more than I thought.

What no one knows, though, is how very much I am fooling them.
 

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