Trichess MST, Part 3

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ALL THREE: Do it! Do it! Do it!

"Problems, pal?" Ironhide wanted to know, grinning widely.

"Not anymore," Wheeljack answered, placing the inactive droid in the nearest corner. He wiped his fingers after a job well done.

CYRWAY: You bastard! You killed R2!

Ironhide looked around contentedly. The Ark was full of life again.

GECKO: Wheelie and Daniel were playing doctor quietly in the corner. Tracks was still pursuing Jazz. Powerglide was torn between Astoria Carlton Ritz and Moonracer. And Optimus was oblivious to the fact Elita One was cheating on him with Shockwave.

Debris and dust had been removed, the shattered systems had been repaired. Friendly light illuminated the walls' warm golden-brown metal.

BROOKLYN: Ah, definitely Good Guy Central.

"Imagine it: since we crashed into it, this planet has rushed around its star about four million times,"

CYRWAY: Not by choice.

it came into Ironhide's mind. "It's unbelievable, but we're alive! After all this time, we're still alive!"

GECKO: Oh, wait until the Movie, there, Ironhide.

Wheeljack nodded in agreement.

GECKO: You too, mechanic. *chortles evilly.*

"I never thought that Teletraan would still work after so many eons," he admitted, but then added; "But what else do you expect from Autobot-quality work..?" They laughed.

CYRWAY: Well, it helps to have the Maximals repair it half-way through your stasis lock.

GECKO: Go Black Arachnia!!! Not just a pair of gold boobs, she was!

Other Autobots passed by - all occupied with some tasks. There was still much to do.

The door of the communication chamber opened.

CYRWAY: BLASTER!!!

"Carefully!" Ironhide still shouted somehow - but... too late!

"Woops!"

Bang!

"Woops?"

"'scuse me.!"

"Looks like the two could use some helping hands," Wheeljack mentioned a bit amused.

'These two' that he spoke of were Bumblebee, the smallest Autobot, and Prime's right hand man, Jazz.

ALL THREE: BUMBLEBEE!!! YAY!!!

GECKO: Bumblebee will save us!

CYRWAY: Jazz is a hottie! He'll save us too!

As result of a collision with each other, they both sat, slightly confused, on the floor.

"Just a moment," Jazz replied. "As far as I remember, I was just on my feet..."

GECKO: Then you fell on your ass, we know.

"That was before you had our little friend between them," Ironhide laughed while helping Bumblebee into an upright position again.

ALL THREE chuckle weakly.

BROOKLYN: Sure, pick on the guy who's the smallest.

"Thanks, Ironhide."

The little Autobot embarrassedly wiped a few dust-bunnies from his armour.

CYRWAY: Ain't you such a cutie, Beebee?

"Sorry, Jazz. I wasn't watching where I was going..."

Wheeljack interpreted the events like this: "Well, Bumblebee, you seem to be as absent-minded as Perceptor when the genius in him takes over."

GECKO: Was that an insult?

CYRWAY: Hey! Perceptor didn't come in until later in season one!

Bumblebee looked at them with puppy-dog optics.

ALL THREE: Awwwww....

"Alas, boys, you'd be in the same condition if you studied the media of inhabitant life-forms for 7.2 kAsecs..." he stated, convinced.

ALL THREE: Huh?

Meanwhile, and with Wheeljack's assistance, Jazz was on his feet again, though he had the opinion that sitting on the floor was somehow much cooler. Most of all when you could block the entire corridor this way alone!

CYRWAY: With you lounging there...yeah...total hottie.

GECKO: Keep it up, and Sideburn's gonna get jealous.

Wheeljack shrugged.

"And they said I'd be the one with the weird ideas..."

The four strolled slowly towards the bridge.

"Have you at least learned something 'bout the inhabitants of this planet during the last 7.2 kAsecs?" Ironhide asked, making conversation.

BROOKLYN: There's no intelligent life here.

"Not much," his yellow companion answered. "Only that they save 50 percent packaging when they take the concentrate instead of the normal twenty-pound box...

GECKO: Someone's been reading the Sam's Club flyer.

And that they have to put red paint over their nourishment before they can absorb it..."

CYRWAY: Ketchup!

"Strange habits," Wheeljack mentioned, rubbing his chin. "But interesting!"

GECKO: If you find ketchup interesting. Me? I prefer poutine.

With a theatrical gesture, Ironhide pointed at the scenario around them:

"Hey, Wheeljack, ol' pal, what do ya think, how strange will our habits seem to them?"

CYRWAY: Oh, once they find you, the holy-rollers would be all over you trying to show you the ways of Jesus Christ.

"You mean the habit to sit right in the middle of the corridor to block it?" he asked innocently.

CYRWAY: I find that sexy.

"Yup, for example..." Ironhide grinned.

"Hey!" Jazz protested. "I just wanted to know, what kinda new maladies are in Gear's top-ten.

GECKO: Hey! They're talking about you, Ace! *Cyrway sinks into her seat.*

When he had to climb over me he would have sung them all!"

BROOKLYN: If Gears starts talking about his prostate, I'm outta here.

The Ark's bridge, center of all actions in and outside of the space ship. All corridors ended here, and Teletraan 1, the main computer, was located here as well. It was a broad, quadrangular room at bottom. One side was occupied by the large central screen that was surrounded by different smaller monitors.

BROOKLYN: The sportsfan's dream set.

This, the metallic walls, and the humming of futuristic devices gave the impression of travelling through outer space. But the remains of eight giant stalagmites and a few small stalactites that hung from the ceiling showed that the blue planet sill tightly embraced the spacecraft.

BROOKLYN: Actually, that was the Maximals' fault.

CYRWAY: Operation Eternity...what a flop!

Different images flickered over the large screen, supplementary tables and figures appeared on some of the smaller ones.

GECKO: And here we have Blaster laughing his ass off watching Armada.

Nimble fingers danced over the keyboard in front of it, typing new commands into the memory banks. Suddenly they stopped.

BROOKLYN: Looks like the creativity demons took a coffee break.

GECKO: What are you talking about? They took a break two hours ago.

"Highly interesting, if not to say: fascinating." Perceptor was obviously puzzled.

GECKO: It's the Professor!

He called up the data on the screen for a second time.

"Exceptionally interesting," he mentioned again.

BROOKLYN: Of course, he's not going to tell us what exactly is interesting.

Optimus Prime and Ratchet, who were having a conversation close by, stopped talking and turned their attention to the main computer.

CYRWAY: Are you talking to yourself again, Perceptor, or do you want us to pretend to listen?

"You discovered something new, Perceptor?" Prime asked the chief scientist while quickly browsing through the data.

BROOKLYN: Not really. He just wanted your attention.

"Well," the other started. "The check-up showed that an eruption of the surrounding volcano caused the recharge of the energy stores. This enabled Teletran 1 to initialise the reactivation sequence..."

Ratchet was a bit confused by Perceptor's explanations.

GECKO: The chief medic was confused by THAT?! And the Autobots allow HIM to operate on them?!

BROOKLYN: Layman's terms, Professor!

CYRWAY: "We'se just gonna root around in yer brain and see if we can't find that dagburn clot..."

"This way to recharge might not be common, Perceptor," he mentioned, shrugging. "But its known to be possible with our technical equipment - even after all this time. So, I can't exactly understand your astonishment about it..."

CYRWAY: Ah, that's why he was confused.

Perceptor gestured that he wanted to continue his explanations. "The reactivation program was shut down after setting the first Transformer to work, caused by corrosion conditional damages in systems 3-27, 5-19 and 9-35. The damages had been repaired."

GECKO: And it was all your fault, Perceptor!

"... By this first-activated Transformer," Optimus Prime added.

ALL THREE: Skywarp!

GECKO: But Skywarp isn't intelligent enough to do that. *gasps*

Perceptor nodded.

BROOKLYN: He must have had help...after all, Skywarp isn't known for his intelligence.

"He is also responsible for Code D-1 A-2, that initialised the primary reactivation of the Decepticons," the scientist explained further. "Therefore all Autobots were reactivated after them."

CYRWAY: And yet Skywarp had an intelligence of 7. Go figure.

GECKO: So? Waspinator was a 6 and Tarantulus was a 4. How messed up is that?

"And?" Ironhide's voice sounded from behind, just then.

Shortly after, he and his three companions grouped around Perceptor, too, staring at Teletran's monitors.

"All Autobots were activated after the Decepticons,"

BROOKLYN: There we go! Honestly, they won't pay attention unless they were mentioned first.

Optimus Prime repeated, especially stressing the 'all'. "So the Transformer who was activated first was a Decepticon."

ALL THREE: SKYWARP!

Silence -

GECKO: *starts humming an intermission tune.*

"A Decepticon..?" Ratchet asked, though he had exactly understood what the Autobot leader had said.

CYRWAY: Boy, Ratchet, you are the sharpest scalpel on the table, aren't you?

The idea that a Decepticon could had saved them didn't really fit into his conception of the world.

CYRWAY: Wait until issue 70 of the comic. *cackles maniacally*

Slowly he turned his head towards Prime's direction.

"So why didn't he initialise code D-1 A-0?" he wanted to know.

GECKO: Because he was blinded by the force called love...

CYRWAY: The poor bastard.

"We wouldn't have been reactivated at all... The Decepticons would have won the war. That's what they've always wanted!"

"I don't know his motives, Ratchet," Prime replied in a calm voice.

Bumblebee did not trust his acoustics completely at the moment.

GECKO: That's not "Purple Haze," that's "Drink to the Dead...."

"Errr... Again... Did I catch that correctly? We owe our lives to a Decepticon?" he asked, only repeating Ratchet's question for a second time.

BROOKLYN: Actually, you owe your lives to a fanfiction author with an obsession for Megatron.

Optimus Prime, Ironhide, and Wheeljack nodded. Meanhile, Jazz shrugged lazily.

GECKO: And how come he's second in command?

CYRWAY: Because he's damn sexy! Yum!

"It seems to me as if we have fans among our foes," he commented on the entire thing.

BROOKLYN: Ramjet's been looking at you, Jazz...

"What do ya think about it, men?"

"I think our live-saver enjoys endangering himself," Ironhide answered.

GECKO: He's a masochist!

"If Megatron finds out that one of his men sypathizes with Autobots, he's gonna make extra-thin sheets out of him!"

CYRWAY: *grins widely* We can only hope.

"Unfortunately, only the internal record program worked, otherwise we'd know to whom we owe thanks..."

ALL THREE: SKYWARP!!!

While the others continued discussing the topic, Perceptor continued to cultivate the information wilderness inside of Tele

GECKO: Tinky-winky..

CYRWAY: Lala...

GECKO: Tinky-winky...

BROOKLYN: Hey! Knock it off!

memory banks. It was necessary to put data fragments of different eras into temporal sequence correctly.

Prime followed the scientist's work, strained.

GECKO: Constipation getting to you? Try Ultra Magnus Brand Laxative!

CYRWAY: Ultra Magnus sounds more like a condom company.

GECKO: "Ribbed for her pleasure."

"I mainly need an explanation for the phenomenon Blaster detected," he mentioned.

CYRWAY: It was a huge-ass Hawkwind concert with Monster Magnet and Clutch as the special guests! What more of an explanation do you need?

"Probably, this may help us, Optimus Prime," Perceptor replied, pointing at a data entry that was shown on a smaller screen. "During two time periods, 700 to 600 as well as 300 to 200 MAsecs ago, - I am not able to make closer specifications at the actual point of time - we had minor volcanic activities in this area. They caused a partial reload of Teletran's storage-batteries."

BROOKLYN: Actually, it could be contributed by Rhinox's extreme case of flatulence.

He transfered the data from the small to the main screen to make place for new information.

GECKO: Sorry, Eject, we've got to interrupt your Red Sox game.

BROOKLYN: Not like it matters...the Sox are losing.

CYRWAY pummels BROOKLYN.

"It was not enough energy to reactivate us, but enough to reconfigure the demolished reconstruction patterns. Teletran needed further data to accomplish the routine, so it ejected a probe via a small side vent of the crater. Possibly it got in contact with the inhabitant life-forms."

GECKO: *Data, Star Trek.* "Lifeforms, you precious little lifeforms, you tiny little lifeforms, oh where are you?"

HEERO: *from the rafters, shoots Gecko in the back of the head, who falls over in his seat.* Mission: Completed.

BROOKLYN: Thanks, Heero! *Sighs contently* Quiet for at least five minutes.

"Possibly," Optimus Prime nodded, though the explanation was not completely satisfactory to him.

He folded his arms in front of his chest and stared at the main screen.

CYRWAY: "Friends" does not satisfy my logic circuits...

"At least we know now when our new alternate forms were laid down," he said quietly.

BROOKLYN: He can't wait to go Jackknifing for Decepticons...

"We approximately know it," Perceptor corrected. "As I mentioned before, I could not exactly determine the correct point of time. I could only state the period in which the events took place with the highest probability. Maybe I could..."

"The information is completely sufficient, Perceptor." The Autobot leader refused any more speculation. "Thank you."

CYRWAY: Perceptor's speculations are pretty close to fact...and how did this dude become leader of the Autobots?

BROOKLYN: Some watery tart lobbed the Matrix of Leadership at him.

"Okay, Optimus, what did Blaster find out?" Jazz wanted to know.

CYRWAY: Metallica was replaced by evil clones back in 1987.

At this point, Prime and Perceptor noticed that, in the meantime, the others had ended their discussion to follow the activities at the computer again.

BROOKLYN: Video games take president.

CYRWAY: Must defeat Ruby and Emerald Weapons...must defeat...

The Autobot leader thoughtfully rubbed his chin.

"Instead of a long explanation: by a demonstration you can see for yourselves," he commented, while activating the intercom. "Blaster?"

CYRWAY: Autobot hottie number 2, come on down!

It took about two seconds before the answer came from the loudspeaker: "At the microphone. What can I do for you, Optimus Prime?

BROOKLYN: A little subdued for Blaster...

CYRWAY: "Blaster blastin' atcha, Pop Op! What can I do you for?"

"We need the download at the bridge."

BROOKLYN: And make sure you run it through an antivirus before you do!

"There in five Asecs!"

CYRWAY: I just realised...Asecs is astroseconds.

BROOKLYN: Some G1 nut you are, just figuring that out.

Wheeljack and Ironhide looked at each other.

BROOKLYN: *as Ironhide.* I love you, man.

GECKO: *getting back up into his seat, as Wheeljack.* Forget it. You ain't gettin' my Bud Light.

"The download?" they chorused.

ALL THREE: The download.

Bumblebee shrugged.

BROOKLYN: For no good reason.

Shortly afterwards they heard Blaster running down one of the corridors with rustling steps.

CYRWAY: Download brought to you by Sneakernet!

He slid the last few meters over the metal floor, causing sparks to fly from his feet, before he stopped with a skilled slope right beside Optimus Prime.

GECKO: SNOWPLOW!

"Here's your request," he remarked showing a little disk. "Sorry, it's only the audio version - we had a little mishap..."

BROOKLYN: Forgot to download the DIVX driver to view Trent Troop's videos, eh?

He inserted the disk into the computer.

GECKO: What's this...? "Disk in Drive A not formatted...?" Stupid Mac disk!

"You request, we play," he said and started the program. "Here we go..."

For a moment the loudspeakers buzzed until the tuning was finally right, then there was silence for a few seconds.

CYRWAY: "Welcome to Vapor Transmission..."

GECKO: No fair if she can quote Orgy and I can't!

Suddenly a mixture of music, battle noise and voices filled the air,

BROOKLYN: Tony Bacala strikes again!

and the hitherto ignorant Autobots - Ironhide, Jazz, Wheeljack and Bumblebee - were confronted with an very unbelievable phenomenon.

CYRWAY: Stereophonic surround sound on DVD!

"These are Megatron and Starscream!" came from Ironhide, who recognized two of the voices at once.

BROOKLYN: No it's not! It's Frank Welker and Chris Latta!

"... And Optimus... and Hound... and you!" Bumblebee added.

CYRWAY: Buster Jones! Yay!!!

BROOKLYN: Not me. I'm voiced by Jeff Bennett.

GECKO: Huh?

"Wrong!" Blaster grinned and looked at Optimus Prime.

CYRWAY: Beau Weaver! Bring in Beau Weaver!

Latter nodded to indicate that the demonstration was over.

"Sure," Ironhide contradicted. "I know the voices too well..."

CYRWAY: *As Ironhide* I sound like Optimus with a drawl!

GECKO: *As Wheeljack* And I sound like Sparkplug with reverb!

Blaster shook his head while interrupting the program.

"I checked 'em all exactly."

BROOKLYN: Starscream and Wheeljack are the same person.

He took the disk out of the slot, threw it lazily into the air and caught it again.

"Well-done imitations. Well... And according to the dictograms, you and Optimus are done by the same voice actor. The same goes for Megatron, Rumble and Frenzy..."

BROOKLYN: And Wheelie, and Soundwave, and Abu from Aladdin, and Bronx from Gargoyles...

GECKO: What the hell are you talking about?

BROOKLYN: I'm from a cartoon show, just like everyone else on this ship. *Grumbles* Idiot.

CYRWAY: And it may be better not to let Wheeljack know he's voiced by the same dude who does Starscream.

GECKO: I'm from a cartoon?! I thought I was from a comic!

Although he did not say it the "What..?" was written clearly on his features.

GECKO: I'm gonna get a beer!

CYRWAY: What?

GECKO: I'm gonna get some steak!

CYRWAY: What?

GECKO: I'm gonna grill that steak!

CYRWAY: What?

GECKO: I'm gonna pour beer on that steak!

CYRWAY: What?

BROOKLYN: *drily* Stone Cold Steve Austin is in the house.

CYRWAY: What?

"Okay, man, understood," Jazz commented - an outright lie.

ALL THREE: What?

"What the meaning of this entire show?

BROOKLYN: To sell toys!

GECKO and CYRWAY: What?

And most of all, what 'bout this background concert?"

ALL THREE: What?

"Yes... And who did this record anyway? The Cons?" Wheeljack intervened in asking.

ALL THREE: WHAT?

BROOKLYN: Why were we saying "what" again?

"Somehow that makes no sense..."

ALL THREE: AND WHAT ABOUT GRIMLOCK'S BRAIN?!

Again all were speaking at the same time.

GECKO: *as Beast Machines Megatron* Yess...the disharmony of my enemies will make it much easier to conquer them...yesss...

Perceptor sighed.

Blaster laughed.

CYRWAY: Perceptor smacked Blaster for laughing at him.

Optimus Prime gestured, composed at the same time indicating that he wanted to say something himself. Slowly the others quietened down.

GECKO: *Wreak-Gar voice* Act now for shiny new Transformer import with sleek, sexy turbo handling and five-speaker surround sound home entertainment center!

"Autobots, what you heard right now was an audio recording of an animated program that was broadcasted over the planetary media 25,2 kAsecs ago," he explained. "As far as you could hear it is about us, the Transformers. The appearing characters are equivalent to the Autobots and Decepticons that we know."

GECKO: *As Optimus Prime* Autobots, we're going to sue for defamation of character.

CYRWAY: *as Huffer* I don't whine like that! Optimus, I don't whine like that, do I? You'd tell me if I did whine, right?

"An animated program?"

BROOKLYN: You know, like South Park and Everybody Loves Raymond.

Wheeljack became curious.

CYRWAY: You mean he wasn't to begin with?

"About us Transformers..?"

GECKO: No, about little talking ponies with tattoos on their butts.

"Yeah," Blaster confirmed. "But you can scrap the graphics..."

CYRWAY: Hell yeah. *Grumbles* I swear none of the animators ever owned a VW Beetle.

"Really that bad..?"

CYRWAY: Actually, a lot of season three wasn't that bad, if only the stories were better.

GECKO: It was cool to see Octane practically crap out his fuel tank when he saw Starscream's ghost for the first time.

BROOKLYN: And let's not forget the classic "Call of the Primatives."

CYRWAY: Xaaron's still rolling over in his grave for that one.

Blaster answered: "Let me say it like this: after Grimlock saw his animated version on the screen, he took the disk right out of the recorder, chewed it several times, and swallowed it.

BROOKLYN: He bothered to chew it?

GECKO: *as Grimlock.* Me Grimlock demand to have Pat Lee or Geoff Senior draw me! Especially Senior! *Mumbles, still in Grimlock voice.* Grimlock bad ass with bandana.

CYRWAY: Grimlock bad-ass in War Within.

GECKO: Damn straight!

Now he and Tracks

GECKO: *As Tracks* Oh my good Primus...I'm GORGEOUS!!!

are sitting together in the communication chamber - one deeper in the sulks than the other..."

GECKO: *as Grimlock* Why Grimlock walk with tail dragging?

"It must be really awful," Bumblebee confirmed, "when even Grimlock recognizes it."

CYRWAY: It's going to be even worse when that disk makes its way through the lower intestine.

Wheeljack poked his finger friendly at Blaster's chest plate.

BROOKLYN: Stop that. That's a red light touch.

"That's why our communications artist had only the audio version for us," the chief engineer mentioned.

"Sorry," Blaster answered shrugging. "Artist's bad luck..."

CYRWAY: Good thing no one showed Tracks the art Pat Lee did of him.

GECKO: He would never leave his room.

"Woops?" Perceptor said just in this moment.

Teletran had suddenly, and without any former warning, deleted all data from the screens. Therefore they blinked yellow now.

CYRWAY: *as Huffer* But I was watching "Fire in the Sky!"

"YELLOW ALERT! YELLOW ALERT!

CYRWAY: *as T-AI* EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY!

CONTACT TO RECONNAISSANCE TEAMS 2 AND 4 HAS BEEN BREACHED. NO LOCALISATION POSSIBLE!" came from the loudspeakers.

BROOKLYN: In layman's terms, they were in deep shit.

On the still-blinking monitors appeared images of Prowl and Bluestreak, namely team 2, and Hound and Hoist, team 4.

"HOMING-SIGNALS WERE DEACTIVATED."

GECKO: *as Fire Convoy* T-AI! Send in the Spychangers to investigate! They're expendable!

Automatically, Ratchet initiated a system check. It was possible that the computer was not able to receive the signals because of an internal malfunction...

CYRWAY: Blame Rhinox and Black Arachnia for that.

However, it was found that the Ark's sensors worked perfectly.

CYRWAY: Go Rhinox and Black Arachnia!

"Teletran isn't causing the problem.

GECKO: For once.

The signals of team 1 and 5 are coming in clearly," he noticed. "Something must have happened to the guys!"

BROOKLYN: And this is why you're the Autobot medic, right?

"Don't panic, pals," Ironhide tried to calm them down.

CYRWAY: Last time I heard that, Zaphrod Beeblebrox was at the helm.

"Maybe their transmitters simply failed."

"All four at the same time?" Ratchet asked unbelievingly. "Very unlikely."

CYRWAY: Okay, maybe he can put two and two together.

"The probability is 0.473 percent," Perceptor acknowledged, and Ironhide surrendered to the facts.

CYRWAY: So nyah!

GECKO: So much for optimism!

Primes attention was focused at the computer.

BROOKLYN: Computer...helloooo computer!

"Teletran, what was the last location of the missing Autobots?" he wanted to know.

GECKO: At a strip bar in New Orleans.

A three-dimensional image of the area around Mount St. Hilary was created on the main screen. It rotated, becoming a map-like graphic with the volcano as center. Within an area of an approximately diameter of one mile, three miles north-eastern from the Ark, four small Autobot symbols blinked.

"LAST LOCATION BEFORE SIGNAL HAD BEEN BREACHED," the computer commented.

CYRWAY: Those idiots were drag-racing and fell off a cliff.

BROOKLYN: Prowl?

CYRWAY: Chasing Sideburn.

GECKO: How many times do we have to tell you, THIS ISN'T RID!!!

"Is there any sign of Decepticon activity in this area?"

"NEGATIVE."

Optimus Prime considered shortly, then he addressed the present Transformers: "Our friends probably need help.

CYRWAY: Or they've gone AWOL.

Ironhide, Jazz, Wheeljack, Ratchet and I will try to find them. Perceptor, you check the area with a Skyspy. Bumlebee and Blaster are going to guarantee that we keep in contact."

GECKO: Meanwhile, we'll leave the Dinobots here to watch the base.

The others agreed by nodding or other gestures that they had understood.

BROOKLYN does an "Up yours!" gesture, GECKO does the D-X chop, and CYRWAY flips the double bird.

"Autobots, this is still a completely strange world to us, so, please be careful!"

BROOKLYN: And Jazz, don't flirt with the natives.

he warned his men. "Transform and roll out!"

CYRWAY: CLUTCH!

The fifty-fourth pothole and the seventy-second of the cellulose things

GECKO: What? *Looks for an answer from CYRWAY, who pulls out her handy dictionary.*

which came out of the ground everywhere confirmed to Ironhide what he had already known fifty-three potholes and seventy-one cellulose things

CYRWAY: Plants!

ago: his alternate form was created for everything but this kind of environment!

CYRWAY: No, vans are made for hauling tools and prepubescent soccer teams.

It was really a strange landscape - rough, chaotic and of alien beauty. Seemingly without plan, high beige-, brown- and green-colored columns grew out of the ground, ramified in the upper section, and ended in flat, green growths that filtered the sun's light. The green structures could be found in lower sections, too. They looked partly lanceolate, and thousands of them came out of the ground. In this form they covered broad areas.

BROOKLYN: In other words, it was an organic planet.

The air was filled by an unexpected pleasant muddle of noises.

BROOKLYN: *tweets like a bird.*

CYRWAY: *howls like a wolf.*

GECKO: *makes a sound like a dying giraffe.*

"Caution, Ironhide!" Jazz suddenly shouted.

Directly in front of Ironhide's bumper a four-legged organic creature, antenna-like growths at the possible head, jumped onto the road to disappear again in the thicket on the other side just a second later.

CYRWAY: Looks like venison tonight! Yum!

GECKO: And had it been your stepfather, Ace, he would have not bothered to swerve.

CYRWAY: Hey, what do you expect from a guy who has to register his vehicle as a hunting weapon?

Alarmed, the Autobot braked, registering a hard concussion in his right back shock-absorber.

"Fifty-five..." he growled silently.

GECKO: Bitch, bitch, bitch.

"Did ya say something?" Jazz asked.

"Nothing important, buddy", Ironhide replied. "Was just for my private statistics... Really rough landscape here.

BROOKLYN: You want rough landscape, try Maine.

CYRWAY: How my poor Chevy survived all these years, I may never know.

Won't be easy to find our missing pals here."

GECKO: Where's Trailbreaker?

Jazz activated his radio communicator: "Jazz to Optimus Prime. Do ya read me, Optimus?"

BROOKLYN: Read you, no.

"Loud and clear, Jazz," came it from the loudspeaker. "Have you found something?"

GECKO: Yo' mama.

"Lots of green, but none of it belongs to Hound or Hoist."

BROOKLYN chuckles weakly.

"Fifty-six..."

CYRWAY snorts.

"What did Ironhide say?"

"No idea, Optimus... But I think he's counting potholes..." Jazz answered. "Really rough road here, Prime. We'd prefer to walk..."

GECKO: Cyrway uses that excuse when there's something wrong with her car.

CYRWAY: THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH MY CAR, PRIMUSDAMMIT!

"Request denied! Your alternate form has a planetary equivalent and therefore is less suspicious. We don't want to cause a sensation!"

BROOKLYN: Last thing you want is to be mauled by a pack of rabid fangirls.

"All right, Optimus. Acknowledged!"

CYRWAY: Although I don't think Jazz would mind too much.

Sighing, Ironhide registered potholes number fifty-seven, fifty-eight and fifty-nine...

"Jazz, if you don't find something within the next two kAsecs you're gonna return to headquarters immediately."

CYRWAY: And people wonder why I use click, cycle, and megacycle.

GECKO: Because Beast Wars is cool?

CYRWAY: That too. *Holds up a package.* Twizzler?

"All right, Optimus", Jazz acknowledged.

"Prime, out!"

So the two Autobots continued to force their way on all eight wheels through the space between the brown columns.

BROOKLYN: Which Keith Parkinson admits to be inspired by piles of dung.

From time to time some different kinds of small creatures came out to disappear into a hiding-place again right afterwards.

CYRWAY: Save for that unfortunate skunk. THUD-UMP! Now Jazz will have to get his undercarriage cleaned.

Suddenly, the red van increased speed.

"Hey, what happened?" Jazz called after him.

GECKO: PAVEMENT!!! I SEE PAVEMENT!!!

"I think, I can see Hound", Ironhide replied, transformed, and ran along the road.

BROOKLYN: NO! DON'T! IT'S LAZARUS!!!

"Ironhide! Prime said... Oh, forget it!"

Jazz also changed to robot form and followed his comrade. The latter had been right. The Autobot scout stood in his jeep mode in a small clearing.

"Hound, buddy! You frightened us!" he mentioned in relief.

The addressed showed no reaction. Ironhide stopped.

CYRWAY: This isn't Hound! Shit! We're in a restricted area!

GECKO: Could it be...a trap? Naw...

"Hound?"

"Something's wrong here!" Jazz noticed. "I'm gonna call Optimus and..."

BROOKLYN: Oh, yeah. Call Optimus in the middle of a trap.

GECKO: It's not a trap! It can't be! Who would--

He could not get further.

CYRWAY: See, it's a trap.

Ironhide could only watch as his companion cramped in pain.

CYRWAY: Ah, it's that time of the month.

GECKO: Gooddamn budding crap.

Then Jazz fainted, collapsing.

BROOKLYN: How does a Transformer faint...?

"Jazz..!" the red Autobot screamed and tried to reach his friend.

CYRWAY: *sighs* Ever the noble Autobot.

But in this moment he felt the burning pain inside of his chest armor himself.

GECKO: *As Ironhide* Zantac! Must...get...Zantac!

CYRWAY: Clutch!

There was not much to see of Grapple, except for the legs that came out of the softly shimmering wall.

GECKO: Grapple's trying to get to Etheria again.

The rest of the Autobot was stuck inside the main gate's maintenance shaft and was about to finish the repairs of the hydraulic systems. Now a hand accompanied the legs...

CYRWAY: Cowl's really not letting Grapple into the Palace of Power, is he?

"Inferno, kindly handle me the multi-wrench", his voice came slightly muffled from within the shaft.

BROOKLYN: Ah, hell, just give him the Swiss-army light sabre.

The hand underlined the request with an appropriate gesture.

GECKO: UP YOURS, PAL!

Inferno reacted to nothing of both. Indeed, he already had the blue and silver multi-wrench in his hand, but instead of handling it over, he stared absent-mindedly out of the open gate.

ALL THREE: THE ROYALTY APPROACHES!

The rest of Grapple appeared besides legs and hand.

BROOKLYN: Ah, I see Broom also helped out.

CYRWAY: You know, Orko could kick all their asses.

"Inferno! The wrench!"

GECKO: What? Arcee? Where? Oh, wrench, I thought you said wench....

"What? Oh... Errr... Here you are..."

"Thanks!" Grapple disappeared in his hole again.

CYRWAY: He doesn't learn, does he?

"What's so interesting outside?" he wanted to know, by the way.

GECKO: Cat fight between Arcee and Nightbird. Nothing too exciting.

The working multi-wrench's rhythmic screeching

GECKO: In tune with Arcee and Nightbird...

accompanied the question.

"Believe it or not," Inferno answered. "It's Prowl!"

ALL THREE: YAY!!!

CYRWAY: Where's Sideburn?

BROOKLYN: *facefaults*

Indeed, the police patrol car was drawing nearer to the Ark. His speed was a bit low, but not suspiciously slow. Inferno went to meet him half-way.

CYRWAY: "went?"

GECKO: *as Grapple* Hey! I didn't say you could leave yet! Inferno! *Under his breath* Damn, now I know how Red Alert felt.

"Hi, Prowl. Where have you been?"

BROOKLYN: He's still in shell shock from being forced to tear that human in half.

Instead of an answer the driver's door opened...

CYRWAY: Out stepped Lazarus.

The muffled bang somehow seemed a bit strange to Grapple.

GECKO: *sniffs the air* Okay, who backfired?

"Inferno?"

BROOKLYN: Yes, my queen! *Blinks and looks around.* Did I just...

No response -

The architect abandoned the hydraulic systems and peeled himself out of the shaft.

GECKO: *makes a gross sounding wet peeling noise.*

There was no Inferno, but...

CYRWAY: The Nemesis loomed above him, its fusion cannon aimed directly at his head.

GECKO: Say good night, Ugh Witwicky.

"Prowl, you..?"

BROOKLYN: Actually came back?

There was a short pain at his neck, then there was darkness...

GECKO: Shit! Bastard shorted out my optics!

CYRWAY: *makes the sound of grinding gears.*

Perceptor manoeuvred the flying probe

CYRWAY: To see just how far that stick was wedged up Ultra Magnus's tailpipe...

GECKO: You killed Robert Stack!

CYRWAY: Did not!

via the images its internal camera transmitted to the computer.

He thought he had finally found something as Teletraan again interrupted all current programs:

BROOKLYN: Teletran lets everyone know of the final score between the Sox and the Yanks.

CYRWAY: You say it, Brooklyn, and I'll kill you.

"RED ALERT!

ALL THREE: WOO WOO WOO WOO WOO WOO!!!

RED ALERT!

GECKO: *As Red Alert.* What? What did I do now? You're all against me! I know it--oh, wait. Dammit, I hate that computer!

CONNECTION TO ALL AUTOBOTS OUTSIDE THE ARK HAS BEEN BREACHED COMPLETELY!

CYRWAY: I think she means "severed."

I REPEAT: CONNECTION TO ALL AUTOBOTS OUTSIDE THE ARK HAS BEEN BREACHED COMPLETELY!"

BROOKLYN: Yeah, we got it the first time.

"That's impossible!" Blaster remarked unbelievingly,

GECKO: Nothing's impossible! Grimlock functioning without his brain connected isn't impossible either!

while Perceptor despairingly tried to regain optical connection to the Sky Spy.

CYRWAY: Goddamn piece of...last time I buy a web cam from WalMart!

"Optimus Prime is with them!" Bumblebee remembered nervously.

"No need to fear, Blaster's here. We still have a few electromagnetic wave tricks on hand," Blaster said calmingly, transformed and connected himself in his tape recorder form to the Ark's communication systems. "Blaster to Optimus Prime, do you read me, Prime? We need you as the leading man in our show. So, please come in..."

BROOKLYN: The Autobots are incapable of making decisions on their own.

CYRWAY: Grimlock's in charge now!

GECKO: That's the comic, Ace.

CYRWAY: Furman rules!

A hiss -

A pop -

GECKO: Following a snap and a crackle.

Then the entire bridge was completely dark. And not just there; the complete Ark was without any light.

CYRWAY: Someone forgot to pay the electric bill again.

"What's going on?" somewhere someone, who sounded like Cliffjumper, asked.

"Dunno," someone replied Mirage-like.

BROOKLYN: Everyone, turn on your headlights!

"Me, Slag, no like darkness!"

GECKO: Me, Snarl, is lost!

"Me, Huffer, no like darkness either! And... stop pricking my rear plate with your horns!"

GECKO: Wouldn't want the others to think the two of you were an item.

There where many somehow similar comments -

BROOKLYN: Do they need an order from Optimus to turn on their headlights or something?

"Perceptor, what happened?" Bublebee asked. Keeping his wits about him, he had transformed and switched on his headlights.

CYRWAY: Leave it to Bumblebee to think his way out of a situation.

The scientist shortly recalled his thoughts.

GECKO: *as Perceptor* It's all my fault!

"I think to remember that the last I saw before the power-failure was Prowl", he answered.

CYRWAY: Hauling Sideburn in by a leg.

"Did you have him on the screen?"

"No, I saw him standing in the corridor be..." The sentence stopped with a strange rattle.

"Perceptor..? Perceptor..?!"

GECKO: The Junkions, dressed as old eighties horror characters, go postal on the Autobots...

The voices inside the Ark quietened down one after the other, and a deadly silence came over the ship...

CYRWAY: Poor Bumblebee...

GECKO: *sniffing, a la Blair Witch* I'm so sorry....Jazz, Cliffjumper...I shouldn't have dragged you here...I'm so scared...

*INTERLUDE 3*

In Washu's pocket dimension. Washu is typing at her computer terminal, with Starscream glaring over her shoulder. GIR is prancing around, dusting.

STARSCREAM: *sardonically* And so what is your ingenious plan, anyway?

WASHU: Oh, it's your basic temporal displacement theorum, in which by taking our present speed in parsecs per hour and square it by trajectory, then divide by 42, and then maintain that speed by a reverse course, we should be able to return to our previous dimension.

SHOULDER WASHU A: *pops up Washu's left shoulder.* You're a genius, Washu!

SHOULDER WASHU B: *pops up from Washu's right shoulder.* Sheer and utter brilliance!

STARSCREAM: *crosses his arms over his chest.* In that case we're not going anywhere until we get the propulsion units back on line.

WASHU: We'll get to that shortly. In the meantime, we have to deal with the other threat.

STARSCREAM: These evil Autobots, eh? *Ponders this* Perhaps I--I mean, we can use this to our advantage...?

WASHU: Still, we need something that will aid us in the case that they are a little too hostile. *Presses a few buttons, and a large glass cylinder with a replica of Washu inside it rises from the floor.* This is Mecha-Washu, version 3.0a(2). This is the ultimate weapon against massive threats of the giant robot nature.

SHOULDER WASHU A: Brilliant plan, Washu!

SHOULDER WASHU B: A stroke of genius!

GIR: *looks at the shoulder demons and giggles.* Cybertron Air Defense Team! Form Star Sabre! *Resumes dusting.*

STARSCREAM: *Peers at the little android and scoffs.* Surely you jest, fleshling. What do you intend on doing, killing it with cuteness?

WASHU: Watch and observe organic genius at its finest. *Presses some more buttons as lights start to flicker. GIR, now picking up Starscream's molted feathers, stops, watching in awe, before venturing closer to Mecha-Washu's tube, staing zombie-like at the event. Apruptly, the pocket dimension fills with blinding light and then, thick smoke as an explosion sounds.*

Cut to the hallway of the Satellite of Love, where the door to the women's bathroom flies open, as Starscream and GIR exit, coughing. Washu follows, backing up, spraying the room down with a fire extinguisher in vain before throwing the canister into the room.

STARSCREAM: *coughing* So much for your brilliant plan.

WASHU: And I suppose you could come up with something better? *Starscream nods.* That would save everyone on the ship and not just yourself? *Starscream shakes his head with a grin.*

GIR: That was fun! *To Starscream* Can we do it again? *Starscream slams a fist on the top of the little robot's head.*

WASHU: *dusts off her hands.* Well, looks like Mecha-Washu Version 3.0a(2) was a failure. Better close the shop up and destroy that pocket dimension to get rid of the evidence--eh?

From out of the smoke, a figure emerges. It looks like Washu, save for the glowing red eyes, narrowed, with a nasty smirk on her face. She steps out and regards the three with an impassive yet arrogant glare.

WASHU: *softly, worried.* Oh no...she must have scanned you, Starscream--

Abruptly, Mecha-Washu's eyes turn turquoise as she grins widely.

MECHA-WASHU: Hiiiiiiii!

GIR: *squeals happily* Hiiiiiiii!

STARSCREAM and WASHU facefault.

MECHA-WASHU: *squeals with GIR as the two dance sporadically.*

WASHU: *tiredly* I created a monster...

STARSCREAM: *frantically* You must destroy it before the others find out about it!

WASHU: Are you kidding? We could use this to our advantage!

STARSCREAM: HOW?!

MECHA-WASHU: *stops dancing and regards Washu and Starscream. Gives them another full tooth grin.* I'm gonna kill Arty and then eat chocolate bubblegum ice cream!

STARSCREAM: *blinks* At least it's got its priorities straight...maybe we could use it to our advantage...

WASHU: Mecha-Washu version 3.0a(2) has scanned both you and GIR to create an amalgam of your personalities...amazing. Disturbing, but amazing. *Watches as Mecha-Washu adminres herself in a mirror.* With your sadistic evilness and GIR's insanity, she would be the ideal killing machine.

MECHA-WASHU: I'm cute! *Giggles*

STARSCREAM: *stares at Mecha-Washu, now dancing once again with GIR, then walks off, but not before he visibly shivers.* I think I'll figure out the propulsion units now.

5.

It was a beautiful spring morning.

ALL THREE: *start humming tranquil movie music*

The mountains were crowned with golden sunlight. The air was clear. A fresh scent of forest and flowers covered the landscape. Birds were singing everywhere.

The night-blue Volkswagen convertible briskly made its way along the lonesome highway.

GECKO: ARTY AND BUMBLEBEE HAD A KID!!! ARGH!!!

On its hood, a silver pentagram sparkled in the sunlight. On another day, under other circumstances, the car's driver would have enjoyed the beauty around her deeply. But today, she had neither eyes nor ears for it. She sat behind the wheel, her hands cramping around it so tight that the knuckles turned white.

GECKO: "The wheels of his Mustang exploding on the highway like a slug from a .45. True death."

CYRWAY: That's normal for me...tho I would have one hand on the stick.

BROOKLYN: And you usually have a maniacal grin on your face too.

Deep wrinkles at her forehead indicated she was thinking hard.

GECKO: Time for Oil of Olay, my dear.

Megatron was still unconscious. She could feel it clearly. But someone or something had brought him back to the States - his soul had gotten closer.

GECKO: *"Closer" by Nine Inch Nails* "Help me, I tore apart my insides, help me, I've got no soul to sell!"

BROOKLYN: *winds up and smacks him, then looks up in the rafters.* Dammit, where did Heero go to?

Maybe she was driving everybody mad for nothing. Maybe there was no real reason to worry, and Megatron would manage the situation himself without any problem...

CYRWAY: And maybe, just maybe, this is all a dream.

No - someone had proved that he was able to put an entire base of Decepticons out of action.

GECKO: Lazarus!

And if it was an intrigue among the Decepticons themselves..?

CYRWAY: Naw...Starscream was unconscious too, remember?

No - there was something else acting. Something very terrestrial...

Magic was absolutely sure. She did not know why she was so certain, but she was absolutely certain.

BROOKLYN: U.S. Army.

GECKO: "Possibly I've seen too much, Hangar 18, I know too much!"

BROOKLYN: *sighs, defeated.*

Her mind turned somersaults -

How could she persuade the Autobots to help her to find Megatron?

CYRWAY: Tell them the truth.

GECKO: Or tell them you want revenge on him for deflowering you.

They were - to put in mildly - not kindly deposed to the Decepticon leader.

ALL THREE: No, really?!

Understandable from their point of view...

"If I enter there, saying: 'Hi, I am Megatron's lover. I think he's in trouble. Kindly, could you help me to get him out?' they're gonna throw me out of the Ark again faster than I got in,"

BROOKLYN: My guess, they'll probably keep you around for psychological examination.

GECKO: Just like they did Arcee!

she remarked very sarcastically. "Oh, damn...!"

Things were bad enough for her to lose her patience..!

Rather frustrated, she hit the instrument panel with her fist.

GECKO: That poor Bug.

While doing so, she casually looked at the fuel gauge: The car was running out of gas.

CYRWAY: Great gas mileage, tho, I give them that.

"Oh, kiss my exhaust pipe! Pentacle, why does that have to be now?"

BROOKLYN: Well, it was your own damn fault for not filling up before you left!

Magic sighed.

Well -things were not that bad; they were about to reach a gas station in approximately two and a half miles.

The gas station looked as if had already been there when Roosevelt had come to be President of the United States.

CYRWAY: Which Roosevelt?

The only thing that seemed to be even older in age was the gas station operator: the somehow sinewy but as lean as a rake man probably had known Abraham Lincoln... nevertheless, his vitality and agility was more like that of a teenager.

GECKO: Dirty old man.

As the Volkswagen convertible entered the gas station, he jumped off his bench in front of the office, sanding subserviently aside the gas pump right in the next moment.

GECKO: Then ran off when he saw the pentagram.

"What can I do for you, young lady?" he asked, bowing in perfection.

Magic could not resist a smile.

"Refuel, please," she answered.

"My pleasure."

GECKO: *snorts*

Again he bowed. And faster than the eye could see, not only was Pentacle's tank filled up, but the windshield and headlights were cleaned as well.

"As far as I can see, you're a good old-fashioned gentleman," Magic remarked while paying.

CYRWAY: And you're a new age cultist.

"You have to become a gentleman when you are confronted with such a beautiful lady," the station operator explained while his wrinkled face showed a youthfully joyful smile.

BROOKLYN: Look at all those false teeth.

GECKO: Old dirty bastard.

But soon the smile was replaced by a very concerned expression as he quickly glanced to the highway. The engine noise of two cars came quickly closer.

CYRWAY: Oh dear...resident hooligans.

"Miss, you better beat it," he whispered to Magic, inconspicuously pointing at the appearing vehicles. "Those are no gentlemen..."

GECKO: Those are his kids.

Another convertible, a really shabby sedan, and an old, shaky pickup now entered the gas station.

BROOKLYN: High School rednecks.

An unpleasant odour of gas, beer and boredom started to taint the air.

CYRWAY: I like the smell of gas and beer!

Magic acted just a moment too late. The first car, which abounded with rust, had already parked front bumper to front bumper to her Beetle before she was able to turn the ignition key completely. The flight backwards was also interrupted very soon. The pickup insolently cut off her way.

BROOKLYN: Crap.

She was trapped!

CYRWAY: Hey, if I can drag a Bug out of a tight spot, you can!

Magic exactly knew what time had come when the two other cars ejected their contents in the form of six male teenagers. The red characters on the rear of their leather jackets identified them as "Desert-Demons" which seemed to be the name of a gang.

BROOKLYN: Naw, it was their high school football team.

With a stupid macho grin on their baby faces and be-cool-at-any-cost behavior, they surrounded Pentacle. Six goofs who thought themselves to be the greatest but were probably too stupid to add two and two together.

GECKO: *Barney voice* Two plus two is four, two plus two is four...

"Well, what have we here?" an Italian-looking bodybuilder type asked.

CYRWAY: "It looks like love but it smells like fear!"

BROOKLYN: Not you too!

He seemed to be the leader, because the other boobies

GECKO: Where?! Where?! Need titties to go with beer!

submissively made room as he was about to open the Beetle's front passenger door.

CYRWAY: Meanwhile, the old man should be backing slowly to the garage and calling the police...

Magic seemed to be completely calm. In fact, every muscle inside of her was strained. Her adrenalin level showed a marked increase!

BROOKLYN: Oh dear...I see where this is going.

CYRWAY: Wolvie berserk style! Shnkt shnkt!

Without respect for the cushion, the fake Rambo dropped on the seat. There he lounged like the head honcho.

CYRWAY: Do you mind?! This is a classic!

Her adrenalin level continued to increase...

"Well, sweetie, where're you goin' without company?" he asked, wrapping his arm around Magic's shoulders.

GECKO: You know, in that position, she could easily snap her elbow up and break his nose, lodging bits of cartillage into his brain and killing him...

The other Demons grinned stupidly.

In her mind, Magic slowly counted up to ten...

"Leave the girl alone!" The old station operator bravely tried to intervene.

BROOKLYN: Why aren't you calling the police?!

But sadly, one of the guys, tall, blond, and freckled, managed to grasp him. Well-versed in such things, he turned the old mans arm onto his back and pitched him face-down onto the pickup's hood. Silently whimpering in pain, the man showed no further resistance which - of course - extremely amused the gang.

GECKO: This is for the lousy $10 you gave me for Christmas, Grandpa!

The she-wolf was alone in this hunting ground, and the strange pack had detected her. The instinct showed two alternatives: flight or surrender. It was too late for flight...

CYRWAY: Snap your fingers, snap your neck!

But there was also another, stronger instinct: She had to protect her own pack. If she surrendered, her own would possibly be lost. So she had to fight against the other pack and had to defeat it...

No - she had only to defeat one: the alpha male.

GECKO: Hey, it's ElfQuest!

CYRWAY: Or Anita Blake.

Magic breathed deeply and evenly.

GECKO: Snap that elbow up! That's all you have to do!

Suddenly she was really calm. Her pulse beat slowly, but strongly. Nothing could impress her anymore. She ignored everything: the surroundings, her fear, her restraints, possible dangers.

Her entire thinking was focused on just two things: the way she would go and the goal she wanted to reach.

BROOKLYN: And suddenly, The Matrix Reloaded makes all the sense in the world.

"Mag's Controlled Madness" was the term her sister had created for this willingly caused psychic condition in which she had some abilities of an mad person.

CYRWAY: Oh dear...

If you have ever seen how Magic, without batting an eye, crushes an unopened can of coke to a small hulk with just one hand, completely ignoring that half of the liquid running down from her hand was her own blood, you would had known what Ivy meant.

GECKO: Cue the physics lesson...

CYRWAY: Actually, crushing a can of unopened coke would cause the pressure inside to shift; if it is powerful enough, the top of the can, being that it is in fact a separate part of the can, would pop off, leaving the rest of the can nominally intact.

BROOKLYN: *dryly* Thank you, Cliff.

CYRWAY: I went to college. You can learn a lot at keggers.

Two Desert-Demons leaned against the driver's door, grinning and waiting to see what their boss would do next. One was chewing bubble gum in a way that gave him a surprising resemblance to an ox which ruminated. They had yet to notice that they had made a bad choice with their location.

CYRWAY: Ah, yes, High school gangs are like gestalts.

GECKO: The more there are, the dumber the collective is.

As if they were nothing but air, Magic opened the door. Thus the two completely taken-aback teenagers first got a strong hit into their stomachs, and then landed in a similarly unpleasant way on their butts.

Magic got out without taking notice of it.

BROOKLYN: You dented my car.

The other Desert-Demons were still too surprised to take any action to stop her.

CYRWAY: Distracted by a pair of boobs. Typical.

So Magic got around the sedan in front of Pentacle to reach the other door of her Volkswagen. She went steady but without hurry.

Now the blond that had put the station operator out of action dared to get in her way. But the moment he saw her features he retreated, intimidated.

GECKO: Call the exorcist!

Absolutely every trace of emotion had disappeared from Magic's face. Her eyes were so cold that everyone that looked into them felt an icy shudder going down his back. Eyes that were bewitching and dangerous!

BROOKLYN: Hey, I know that look!

GECKO: It's the same look Ace gives Vig when he calls her a SNAD!!!

There he was right in front of her, sitting in her car, a black-haired boy who was playing man.

CYRWAY: Oh, he who disrespects the car must pay!

Bravely! He still tried to pretend to be the cool macho man. But with her predator instinct, Magic precisely sensed his growing uncertainty. The smell of fear filled the air.

All of a sudden, like a biting snake, she grasped his right wrist. The boy stared at her, hypnotized.

GECKO: I'm telling you, the elbow to the nose would have worked better.

In this moment, it was inside of her, this strange flow... A feeling unknown and familiar at the same time, like a newborn child to his mother, streamed through her body. A feeling like being a tree.

CYRWAY: *as Alana from "Sea Change."* You are a tree...a big strong tree with deep roots...

GECKO: *as Comic Book Guy* Worst Episode Ever!

CYRWAY: You haven't seen "Carnage in C Minor" yet, I take it.

Deeply rooted in the ground, she drew energy into her body. Torrents of lava started to pulse through her body. This was no controlled madness anymore; this was not even uncontrolled... another power had been set free inside her.

ALL THREE: Do not use your special power!

The boy whose wrist she clawed mercilessly got paler by the second. His eyes opened wide, staring at the woman. There was nothing of an adult in his behavior anymore; Magic stood in front of an completely horrified, seventeen-year-old child!

ALL THREE: Don't hurt me!

She felt his pulse beneath her fingers - it hammered like mad. His circulation was close to collapse. Two things were written onto his ash-gray, sweat-covered face: ultimate panic and violent pain.

BROOKLYN: Isn't there something in most pagan religions--

CYRWAY: If it hurts someone, don't do it. Yep.

GECKO: Also the rule of threes. Anything you do to someone comes back to you times three.

CYRWAY: It's the difference between offensive, or what Muggles would call "black," and defensive, ie "white," magic.

"Get out of my car!" Magic's voice sharply and dangerously cut through the hypnotising silence.

GECKO and BROOKLYN: Muggles? Did you--

CYRWAY: Shut up, both of you.

"And... the two scrap heaps are going to vanish, too!"

With this she released the boy's wrist.

CYRWAY: Someone skipped a gear.

Two minutes later she was back on the highway, going in the direction of Mount St. Hillary.

GECKO: The pickup and the sedan, as with the gas station, vanished form the scene.

She trembled inside - tribute to the fear she had ignored the whole time. Slowly she became aware of everything that could had gone wrong. What if one of the Demons had drawn a weapon? What if...? Take a deep breath...

A convoy of eight semi-trucks came her way in the other lane.

ALL THREE: "We've got a great big convoy, rolling through the night! We've got a mighty convoy, ain't she a beautiful sight?"

The trucks themselves were black, the trailers were, except for a company sign or something similar, white.

GECKO: Black Battle Convoy with drones!

Why did she bother her head herself about things that could have happened but had not?

BROOKLYN: Huh?

That was illogical nonsense! Maybe the result of adrenalin reduction...

Not every trailer was white, the one of the second-to-last truck was silver-grey.

CYRWAY: There must be symbolism here...

What had happened the last anyway? Her mind was somehow nebulous.

GECKO: Aw, great, the Nebulons are gonna show up...

She thought she remembered that the boy's arm had been deeply red.

CYRWAY: Indian sunburn!

The noise of the strong diesel engines slowly got lost in the distance...

CYRWAY: Jake brake! Jake brake!

"Bring me water! Damnit, bring me water, fast!" the black-haired boy lamented.

He sat the back against the gas pump, holding his hurting arm spasmodically. Sweat and tears streamed over his still very pale face.

BROOKLYN: That'll teach you.

"This female was a witch," he mumbled, confused. "Or a devil... Bring me water, fast!"

CYRWAY: Your point?

His voice faded until it was only a silent whimper.

"Tonio, man, what's the matter?" the blond asked while one of the younger boys tried to get the water.

Antonio slightly raised his right arm and the other one swallowed. The dark red shining mark of a woman's hand was visible at the wrist. It was covered by white blisters...

CYRWAY: And clutch.

Magic stood beside her car, completely amazed. What she saw was simply overwhelming.

Caused by the volcano's eruption, a giant part had broken away from the wall of rock, exposing the rear of the space cruiser that was trapped inside the stone. Five propulsion outlets, each big enough to bear an entire house, reached for the light, shimmering golden in the sun.

GECKO: Ryo-ohki! We found her!

The young woman was touched by a feeling of awe.

ALL THREE: Awwwwww...

Hesitating, she draw closer to the entrance, an opening directly under the outlet openings, that was nearly as wide as the entire stern itself. It was so high that about six or more people, one on the top of the other, could stand so the one on top could touch the ceiling.

GECKO: I'm feeling small and insignifigant...well, that feeling passed quickly.

This was alien hunting ground -

BROOKLYN: And the part of Magic is played by Segourney Weaver.

CYRWAY: HR Giger....yum...

GECKO: Most people would have nightmares about WarWorld drawn by Giger, you know.

Attentive, ready for flight at any time, Magic entered the ship.

"Someone in there? Hello..?" Her voice echoed from the walls in a strangely tinny way.

GECKO: *Slag voice* No one here!

"Optimus Prime, are you there..? Hey, Autobots! Nobody at home..?"

GECKO: *Slag voice* Me say no one here!

No answer - there was grave-like silence.

Carefully, she slinked on. Slowly, a feeling like having swallowed a boulder grew inside of her. Mental alarm bells rang in her ears.

CYRWAY: *T-AI voice* Emergency! Emergency! Fire Convoy, Emergency!

There was still light within the thirty-meter-long sluice, but that was sun light that came from the outside. The further she got inside the Ark, the darker it became until only complete darkness remained...

BROOKLYN: Spelunking without a light is not exactly a good idea.

Magic startled.

"What happened to the light?" she asked herself. "Matrix! What kinda movie is this?"

GECKO: it's a fanfiction written by a fangirl.

There was something very rotten in the state of Denmark!

CYRWAY: Energon gone bad.

She ran back to her car to get a flashlight. Then she tried again.

BROOKLYN: You know, driving your car in might have proven a little more protection...

Passing the sluice... Damn..! Where was the bridge again? Aha - over there!

GECKO: Tripping over Depth Charge and Tigahawk parts as she did...

She still knew the way as she had seen it through Megatron's eyes.

CYRWAY: But of course.

Around the corner - just a short way ahead... She switched the flashlight on, because no one could see with absolutely no light.

There it was!

GECKO: A Slush Puppy Machine!

The largest, most efficient, and, most of all, oldest computer that ever existed on the planet Earth:

CYRWAY: A super computer made from four Apple 2+'s and a Mac Classic!

Teletran 1.

GECKO: Like I said, a Slush Puppy Machine!