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I knew I pushed it too far this time. The Autobots always told me that my rhyming was annoying to everyone. But I refused to give it up. It was part of my clan's heritage; as the last one alive, I felt it was my duty to carry on the tradition. Other than myself, my branch of the Cybertonain tree is lost; destroyed when the last of my kind crash-landed on Quintessa and were hunted down by the Sharkticons. The others did not share my feelings on the subject. Sure, they tolerated me, as I am an able warrior (and I was responsible for saving their futuere leader, Rodimus Prime) but they still grumbled behind my back, wondering what my defect was, talking to the medics about having my condition fixed, not understanding that it was voluntary that I spoke thus. Not because of some damage. Needless to say, word of my annoying speech pattern spread far and wide. Eventually, Galvatron heard me speak, out on the battlefield, and that is what sealed my fate. In a crazed rage, he ordered the Predacons to hunt me down and destroy me. They were only too-happy to oblige. And that is where I sit now. Alone, abandoned, and confused as to why my fellow Autobots aren't here to save me. I can't believe they would let a comrade down like this; did they finally see a release from me in the form of the Predacons? Will they not lift a finger to help me? Laser fire streaks overhead. My hiding spot on the barren desert expanse has been found by the Predacon Divebomb. This signals the others that my location has been found. Realizing that it's useless to stay here in the scrub any longer, I pull out my slingshot and launch a 'hot rock' at Divebomb. I hit him squarely in the beak (I always was a crack shot) which causes him to scream and circle back, giving me enough time to get out of the bushes and transform into vehicle mode, and drive farther into the desert. Divebomb: "Filthy Autobot scum, you'll pay for that!" Wheelie: "Wheelie say, fly away!" I taunt him, as I leave the premises while he goes in search of his friends. With any luck, my rhyme will annoy him enough to buy me some extra time to hide... I see mountains in the distance. It seems my only hope to avoid them. If there are small caves in them, I will be able to hide where they cannot get to me. I dare not radio for help any longer; it would only give my position away to the enemy. On normal solid terrain, it would be easy for me to outrun the Predacons, but several kilometers into the desert, my wheels are spinning in deep sand. I transform into robot mode, and begin a half-run, half-jog in the direction I was driving. It's days like this that I wish I'd traded in my wheels for some hover-units. I'd be a bit slower, but certainly faster over sand than I am right now. The sun beats down on my frame; as the terrans say, it is hot enough to fry the proverbial egg. I finally understand this temperature concern as my internal thermostat gives me an overheat warning; if I don't stop this pace soon and get to shelter, I will surely go into shutdown. Or fry something vital. Or probably both. Either way, I'd be helpless to defend myself should the Predacons find me again. And they WILL find me again. They are the best hunters in the galaxy. It is only a matter of time. Suddenly, a plan comes to mind. Betting that they can't trace my emmissions if I am shut down, I dig myself a deep hole in the desert sands, jump in, and bury myself in it. The winds should take care of my physical trail, and if I go into shut down, they won't be able to detect my energon emmissions. I set my internal timer to reactivate me in 10 hours, which would compute to about midnight on this planet, and prepare to shut down. My last thought before the darkness is wo wonder why the Autobots didn't come for me when I called for help... Midnight. Just as the desert sands are burning during the day, they are just as extremely frozen at night. But that is alright by me; I was designed to work in the cold of space, so this slight chill is nothing to me. I dig myself out of my makeshift hole, and just as I suspected, my trail from earlier was blowen over by the desert wind. I scan the area, and finding no Predacons in immediate sight, I begin my trek to the mountains. Only there do I have a hope of surviving to the next day. As before, the walking is trecherous and slow-going. But finally, I make it. Or so I think... Razorclaw: "Welcome, Autobot. You have been expected." Slag! The Predacons have anticipated my move. They came to the mountains ahead of me. I should have expected this. My options have suddenly become limited. Wheelie: " You Predacons have found me; now what will you do to me?" Tantrum: "Raaah! Snort! Let's gore him now!" Razorclaw: "Patience, Tantrum. He WILL die. But first, a little entertainment. Predacons, Unite!" My worst nightmare is revealed as the Predacons transform into one of the most fearsome gestaults of all time: Predaking. A being of pure animal instinct. Bad enough to be hunted down by them individually; with them united, I stand no chance at all. My life, already running short during the beginning of this escapade, has just gone to being measured in nano-seconds...
To Be Continued. |
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Continued. Recap: Wheelie and his rhyming speech have annoyed people for too-long. Galvatron has sent the Predacons to hunt down and destroy Wheelie. After a day of pursuit, they are about to complete their mission... Predaking: "Raaah! Destroy Autobot!" (swings a foot forward to kick him) Wheelie: "In the end I will duck and bend!" (dodges his kick, only to be swiped instead by Predaking's mighty claw. Wheelie smashes into the base of the mountain.) Wheelie: "oof!(crunch!)Your swinging arm will cause me some harm!"(Wheelie pulls himself out of the rubble, looks at his damaged chassis)"After causing this dent, I'm telling you: get bent!" Wheelie pulls his lazer pistol out of subspace and takes aim at the big Decepticon's head.
TO BE CONTINUED |
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Notes: I wrote this one on July 9th of 2001...imagine my surprise when Wheelie died in the Botcon comics a week later! I'd held off posting because I didn't want folks to think I wrote it after the fact. That, and...well, after the Botcon comic, I was pressed to find a now more suitable ending...I'm still thinking! I didn't expect to have to rewrite it so he survived... |