You Can't Pick...

This would not do. Moonhunter came into the scene late, drawn by a crowd gathered around what someone had dubbed "The Circle of Death." (Funny, how names stuck like that.) That could only mean two things: an all-out brawl, or a duel. The crowd gave way to his presence - expecting him to play the narc, he figured. There had been enough precedent established to make that a logical assumption.

What he found within the ring was a mild surprise: a human fighting a Maximal. And of course the Maximal was winning, which wouldn't have bothered Moonhunter if the human hadn't been a member of his security staff. He was making an embarrassment of the department, allowing himself to be beat by a non-combatant scout. Granted, usually even the weakest of Maximals were still hardier and stronger than the strongest humans. But with enough training, humans had proven they could take on Transformers before. Jenkins was not putting any of his training to use and as he crawled away in defeat, Moonhunter shot him a disapproving glare. This would not do at all.

"Who else is up for gettin' their butts whopped, eh?" the Maximal called out. Whiplash was her name, a very young and very rebellious field scout. Her gold and teal armor was as mud-encrusted as the organic parts of her beast mode. Which would have been partially understandable considering the fact that she transformed into a creature that seemed half animal and half vegetable, with barky skin, grass-like hair and twin tails that resembled vines; but the sheer amount of filth on her bespoke a lack of any sense of hygiene. Now she splayed her arms into the air and bobbed her head up and down while strutting about the makeshift ring with a cocky swagger. She had already defeated several human members of Colony Zeta's security force and even one other Maximal.

"Sounds like you are," Moonhunter spoke up and came forward, stepping into the circle - much to the surprise of almost everyone there. He crossed his arms and smirked. He was aware of just how much the youngster disliked him, but he didn't care. He merely did his job and expected her to do hers. And he knew he had never really participated in a social event before… but there was a first time for everything. "Let's see if you can take on someone more your level, Whiplash. Now's your one and only chance to take that swing at me I know you've been wanting to take."

The femme spun around. She didn't bother to hide her glare at him, though she took a step back, an obvious sign of intimidation. Her twin tails whipped the floor, softly expressing her scorn. The young scout needed to be taught a lesson. Moonhunter wasn't sure why he cared, but he did want to see her mature up somewhat. Her youthful naivety could be a liability someday, and he would not tolerate that.

"Well, well well...if it isn't Mr. Fancy-Badges!" She snarled at him with the nickname she had dubbed him. That was the best she could come up with - seriously? Moonhunter was suitably unimpressed with her verbal sparring skills. If she was trying to be insulting, then she was doing a poor job. Moonhunter didn't understand why she held such animosity toward him, but he didn't allow it to bother him. Other beings, both Terran and Cybertronian, had despised him for less and called him worse things over his years. So one immature femme, who disliked him for being a killjoy didn't even register on his scanner.

"My level? We have been fighting neatly. Leeroy there got his exhaust port handed to him fair an' square. It's not my fault if your guys are all sissies." She gave a quick glance behind her shoulder and then shifted her stare to him again. "Ah well…your fall, my rise."

"Have at thee!" was his battle-cry of choice for the day. His sensitive canine ears heard one human laugh at the reference; most others didn't get it. This generation of humans hardly remembered anything from his time.

With a gleeful grin, the handles of Whiplash's trademark whips slid into position from her side and she pulled them out. She took a few slow steps then quickly sprinted forward towards him. Once the distance was closed she stopped abruptly and spun fast and hard. The sound of cutting air followed her action and then two green lines seemed to grow out of the dark blur. Woosh! came the whips toward their desired target, Moonhunter.

The war veteran dropped and rolled forward to avoid her lashes, initiating a wordless transformation as he flipped. He went down as a white lycanthrope and rose up as a robot of green, white and gold, laser-saber in one hand. He held his weapon up before himself and the vines were sliced as soon as they passed by the blade of energy. But didn't lose their momentum one bit; one vine still flew into his side, impacting him with enough inertial force to knock him down. Well, better him than the spectators… he realized he had just risked hurting them when slicing off the vine whips. The second lash hit a Maximal harmlessly, but if it had been a human in its path… then Moonhunter would never have been able to forgive himself. He was unused to fighting with a crowd around him and would have to be more careful.

"AUGH!" Whiplash emitted a high cry of surprise and pain when her interlaced vines where sliced. Greenish ooze dripped form the cut ends of both whips but thanks to the regenerating abilities of Whiplash's plant-like beast mode the wounds sealed up. "Bastard..." She muttered. He hadn't meant to hurt her, honestly. Moonhunter's experience with plant-creatures was minimal, and he didn't know how sensitive her alternate form was to pain, especially in extensions like her vines. He knew that they usually didn't have nervous systems that were anything like a human's, or nearly as complex. The vines quivered and the patched tips grew at an incredible speed and in the blink of an eye her whips where whole again, ready to lash out the aggressor that had sliced them.

Whiplash then rushed to Moonhunter once again, this time though seeming more alert for possible evasions. She leapt into the sky and swinging back and then up and finally down her arms she directed a long circular swing of her whips to her target from the air. The vines emitted a high buzz as they sliced the air showing some of the true danger that they presented to anything that they would strike.

The problem with Whiplash's attack was that she was aiming for raw power—and usually one had to compromise speed for power. He saw what she was doing as soon as she had leapt into the air, and he leapt forward right to where she had been standing, out of range of her strike. Drawing one of his pistols (already set to training-mode safety power levels) he managed a few pot-shots at her back before she could land and reposition herself to avoid them.

Whiplash landed violently, staggered and crashed unto the soil with a grunt grunt, sliding some more meters through the ground and finally halting a ways out of the main circle. Moonhunter holstered his weapons. But he didn't let his guard down - he never did. Ever.

She remained motionless for some seconds before indicating her conscious state with a moan. Slowly she stood up, her thick legs trembling and barely holding her, and clumsily turned to face Moonhunter. The metal parts of robot form where now mostly stained in dirt, including her face. The crowd stood still giving anxious glances towards both rivals, expressing a mix of amusement, nervousness and overall shock. She just kept glaring fiercely at him, and he remained still, wondering if it was over but doubting it by the furious animalistic growls that escaped her whenever her chest heaved.

She started advancing again, first one step, than another, and then a full sprint towards him. Hurtling forward she transformed in midair into her Forest-hound mode, spreading the four segments of her muzzle open, revealing the countless serrated shark-like teeth, and roaring crazily. The roar devolved into a nightmarish howl and she flew towards him, all sense lost. Moonhunter suddenly realized this had stopped being a game for her. She was playing for keeps, and depending on whether she knew how to harness that rage or not, she had either become more or less dangerous.

Time slowed for him, as it always did in times of danger. Falling onto his back, he transformed just his lower legs to access his beast mode's digitigrade feet for greater leverage. She leapt upon him, and his feet connected—but he didn't kick her back. That would just open him up for another charge, and this trick would not work a second time. Instead, he kept her going—leveraging her up and over him, and finally using her own momentum against her to send her flying right past him. Fortunately the crowd had enough sense to see what he was doing even before Whiplash could and cleared out of the way just in time. As soon as she was clear he transformed his feet back into robot form and spun around onto all fours, watching her as she hit the ground and skidded.

Upon hitting the ground Whiplash yelped like a wounded dog. She half-growled, half-whimpered as she stood up… stumbled… and then slowly, more carefully, stood up again. Her legs trembled once she was upright but this time they held their position. Whiplash turned slowly to face Moonhunter and bared her teeth emitting a low feral growl which faded into nothing.

"Enough, Whiplash!" he ordered. "Stand down." While Moonhunter's robotic form was more fitted for battle than hers, he had not even needed to use his greater abilities, relying simply on his greater battle expertise. Whiplash was not a bad fighter by any means, but she was crude, undisciplined and untrained. So she was good with whips; that meant nothing when she did not understand how to carry herself in battle. With some training, she could become something truly dangerous.

She spoke no words but admitted her defeat by tilting her head up and down feebly. Her twin tails had ceased their frantic movement and lay limply in the ground, as if they where dead. Her extra limbs where folded over each other in a sad manner. Even her grassy mane was lay flaccid on her back. Pathetic would be the best word to describe her in that moment. She was defeated. Moonhunter new it, the crowd new it, and… Whiplash knew it to.

Moonhunter returned to his beast mode, satisfied with the outcome of this. He hadn't enjoyed fighting her, but it had to be done to preserve peoples' confidence in the security forces. The defeated security personnel would be put through more rigorous training regimen after today, Moonhunter would see to it personally. He did not care of what others thought of him personally – obviously - but he had to maintain the security department's reputation for the good of the community.

"Moonhunter wins the brawl!" a Maximal cried and the rest of the crowd exploded into a mix of cheers from the aficionados, jeers of the bet losers and the guffaws from those who won said bet.

"You have potential, kid," he said, trying to be a gracious winner. "You just need some training." However, as socially out-of-touch as Moonhunter was, the security officer was at least empathic enough to know when his words were unwanted. Having nothing more to say, he turned to leave. He took three steps. Suddenly there was a hiss, and he felt something cleave into the flesh on his backside with enough force to knock him forward. He hadn't expected to be struck from behind, not following what had clearly been a practice exercise. She couldn't! was his first thought, followed by She did! The veteran forced himself to stand up, and turned to shoot an angry glare toward the impertinent young female.

She stood frozen with the offending whip in her hand, seeming as shocked as everyone else, her eyes staring at the mech fluid covering the weapon. His fluid. "What the…?" She gasped and backed away from her own vine, as if it was a poisonous snake.

"You've gone too far this time," he snarled before stalking off to the colony's medical bay to get his wound stitched up. In the past Moonhunter had been lenient, accepting verbal abuse without a complaint, but striking a command officer was completely unacceptable.

Some weeks later…

Whiplash mumbled profanities under her breath as she made her way through the colony, wandering through its many hallways in her restless search to relax. She and her human friend Leeroy had just finished their weekly argument and she was in a bitter mood. The greenhouses were just ahead and she felt the need to be amongst other plants. She entered and walked toward a large fruit tree of some kind and halted. She paced two circles around the soil before settling down and placing her head over her folded forearms and her forearms over her forelegs. As soon as she was comfortable, the scout closed her eyes and within a minute she fell asleep. It was a matter of another minute for her to officially declare her state by snoring like a restless human. Loud, booming and raspy snorts that disturbed the peace and quiet that had attracted her to that place.

A few minutes later her peace was interrupted by a sharp nudge into her side. A series of gagged grunts, snorts and finally the angry growl of the beast waking up filled the whole place.

And there stood the last person in the colony she wanted to see: Moonhunter, returning balance onto both feet after using one to rudely awaken her. He waved a book before her eyes obnoxiously, as if it was supposed to mean something to her. "Don't you have a bedroom you can sleep in?" he asked, annoyance in that already-grating voice of his. "I realize you came here for some quiet, but you're depriving me of mine."

She snorted, grunted, and even spat. Whiplash was not a graceful awakener. "Can't you go anywhere else? I was here first!" she bellowed, matching his annoyed tone. With a flick of her head, she used her snout to knock the book out of his hand.

"Some scout you are," he jeered. "I thought it was your job to know what's going on around you. I was here for a half-cycle before you plowed in." He placed his hands on his hips like a scolding human parent.

The forest hound stared at Moonhunter with disbelief; if she hadn't become aware of the pompous and ever-scorning officer something must have messed with her radar. Either that or she couldn't be bothered to keep her senses heightened when she was preoccupied with more important things in her off-time. Indeed, now that she was alert she noticed a chair and small table in the far corner, with a pitcher and glass both covered in condensation on the table. She bared her teeth and let out a snarl as vicious as she dared. "I could have detected ya if I had wanted to, Fancy-Badges…I just didn't want to right now. Got a problem with that?"

As the security chief stood there, she realized he expected her to pick up the book Glancing at the book she blinked her four sets of eyes and looked up at Moonhunter. Well frag that. Instead she opted for a rasher course of action. "Oh, you're waitin' fer me to pick this up aren't ya?" she rumbled and spun around towards the book. Lifting one heavy clawed paw she stomped it over the book, causing the dirt plastered to her paw to shake off and stain the tome. And to add for the worst, she was bold enough to shuffle her mud-covered paw along the book's cover, dirtying furthermore.

Moonhunter stiffened. She could see that got to him, and he couldn't have her locked up over something this small, like the time she had lashed him. He spoke slowly, "I would threaten to reprogram you into a trash-bot, but you already are one." He paused, flexed a fist, but she held her ground. He wouldn't dare punch her, he considered himself too "good" for that. "What did you even sign up to this colony for, if you don't want to take orders? You chafe against everything in an expedition that everyone else accepts as normal responsibility."

Lowering her grassy hackles Whiplash relaxed her snout and cocked her head to the side, confused. "What?" That was a very good question.

Her old life back in Cybertropolis didn't seem so bad at this point...in fact all that the youngster wished at that very moment was to be among her brothers once more, and forever.  Sure, life as a criminal was hard, evading law enforcement, the other gangs from the city, prison itself and many other horrors...but everything seemed to balance there, make sense. Back home, she could be herself. In this colony, Whiplash had to behave like some pansy-good natured sissy, having to obey more pansy officers and work along some of the very types she had avoided in her old life.

She hadn't thought it much, before... why she had joined the expedition in the first place. Pondering the conundrum made her want to smash her head against a rock… repeatedly. At that point it seemed stupid, why in the Pit had she wanted to leave behind all that she had worked for, just like that? For family, energy, money and recognition? She had to think up a logical excuse, something that would make sense. And not only for Moonhunter, but for herself as well. An idea popped into her mind, foolish but nevertheless one she was confident about.

"Are you kiddin'? Whaddaya think I came 'ere for? To investigate some planet full of organic sludge? I joined this piece of slag just to get some cash fer me and me friends!"

One of the best strategies for seeming convincing was the aggression. Aggression was Whiplash's way to get what she wanted. It kept weaker foes down, either by physical force or threats. But only weaker ones. Even though as a bandit she had managed to rob wealthy places and fool some very well-trained guards in her day, even she hadn't been "professional" enough to fool experienced detectives.

"Bullshit," he called. "Everybody knows colony expeditions pay crap. Especially for an untrained scout on her first mission. Care to try another one?"

The officer's response half-surprised Whiplash. Moonhunter had skills, she had to give him credit for that. The fact that he had sniffed out the idea was something that she had been expecting. And the way he reminded her of her wages made her want to return home even more.  Of course, her backup plan had been to leave the colony with anything and everything she could swipe and fence it on the black market, but that option had turned out to be much more problematic than she had figured at the time. Turning back to face him she grinned slyly. "Well, if I told you my true explanation I think ye would throw me into the brig fer two months at least," she said casually.

Of course, he took the bait: "What do you mean?"

Her only answer was a scornful bearing of teeth before abruptly turning around. Her twin tails curled up and nearly struck Moonhunter in the process.  "As if you expect me to tell ya...in the end it wouldn't even be worth the attempt."

And with that she began to retreat while she still had some dignity, stomping her paws harder than necessary to express her frustration. Just as she was about to exit the greenhouse, the door slid closed and blocked the only exit. The audible whir of mechanisms locking caused her to bark anxiously. She spun around to face the one obviously responsible for locking her, the security director with the controls to the entire ship.

"Care to rephrase that?" he asked. "Why would I throw you in the brig? What. Did. You. Do?"

She nearly panicked but managed to keep a brave face. Perhaps she had gone too far, but she had to retain her bravado. "What, now yer threatenin' me? Don't make me laugh, Fancy-Badges!" She growled defensively.

Arching her neck back the forest hound uttered a series of strange noises, the snorting of her beast mode's form of laughter. "Knowin' how big a jerk ya can be, I suppose that stealin' the orange juice reserve that crazy human cook keeps would be enough excuse for you to exile me for life!"

Moonhunter folded his arms, sighing in exasperation before declaring, "I'm not threatening you. I'm not the authoritarian jerk you think I am. Has it ever occurred to you that I'm just trying to do my job here? I never wanted trouble with you. I have enough to worry about, like the safety of hundreds of individuals, without this stupid grudge you have against me."

Though her simple lie had worked out perfectly and brought some confidence, Whiplash knew she was far from ending the frustrating encounter.  "Sure...have me believe that ya'ren't a slaggin' autoti'-urm, authoti-", she paused to shake off the slobber in her mouth, snorting scornfully at the incapacity to pronounce 'authoritarian'. "-authoritati-eagh, whatever ya call that fraggin' word!"

The officer's response caused Whiplash to step-back with a growl, as if she had been slapped in the snout. Offended was the word that her alien face clearly displayed.
"Never wanted trouble?" Whiplash slowly wheezed in a disbelieving tone. The forest hound looked down and began to shake her canid-like head from side to side, muttering several times "No, no, no..." as if lamenting.

Looking up again, Whiplash let loose a short cynical laugh. But her sarcasm soon ended and a very, very vexed look replaced it instead. Taking a step forward, Whiplash would give one of her longest rants while in an almost enraged state:

"After that beatin' ya gave me that time fer' just havin' fun with that pit-spawned Leeroy, embarrasin' me in front of everybody and then reportin' me to the commander so he could imprison me in the slaggin' brig for three- did ya hear?- THREE FRAKING DAYS! No sun! No food! No water! Only what?! ENERGON! Now ya smart-ass, while you were supervising how many limits I had down there, did it ever come to yer mind that I am part sparkfragging PLANT? No, I'm sure ya didn't! I could barely stand up without havin' mah' legs shake like a human whelp!"

He remained still as she spewed her frustrations at him. When she was finished, he finally spoke. "That was the commander's decision, not mine," he explained to her. "Whiplash, striking a commander is a serious offense. We treat each other with respect otherwise we're no better than Predacons. Such offenses need to be reported and disciplined. Now I acknowledge, your punishment may have been a little harsh, and for that I am truly sorry. But the purpose of it was not to hurt you, it was to give you time to think about the repercussions of your behavior."

For a moment, Whiplash just stood there, her lower jaw opening but closing shut constantly, her core void of words she could use in defense against Moonhunter's first point.  Indeed, she had struck him down, and in a very dishonorable way. Not that she had any honor...Whiplash's previous career was proof of that. Stealing and looking out only for herself and her band. She did feel bad about lashing out at him… mostly because most of her companions had given her grief about it for days.

Then Moonhunter dealt his second verbal blow. "Maybe if you tried to see things from someone else's point of view, make an attempt to understand them, we wouldn't have so much friction between us. Matrix knows, that's what I've tried to do with you. Why else would I have offered to help teach you how to fight? Or allow you to stay to fight those bugs that attacked the colony, when you are clearly not trained to deal with such matters?"

He unlocked the door for her and commanded it to open. The door that had previously betrayed her now slid upwards, allowing the cool air of the ship to make its way into the warm greenhouse, causing the plant's mane to bristle. Whiplash snarled in response to Moonhunter, exposing how thankful she was for having him offer her sparring classes... Phsaw! Her daily spars with Leeroy and fighting her way out of trouble while scouting was enough training for her. And this time, Whiplash did find words. Ranting and mad ones, but at least she found the courage to speak up.

"Not hurt me? Slag, yer more stupid than what I thought! All of the punishments that are done to people are so that they don't do that again, yes, but it's not about making anyone 'reflect.' No, it's about mental or physical pain to make 'em have fear, to give them a damn good reason why not to do that again. So before I'll make ya a favor and fix that sentence fer ya 'gain."  Whiplash paused and cleared her throat. She then mimicked his voice, making him sound as dumb as she could: "But the purpose of it was not only to hurt you, it was to give you time to think about how bad we can screw you and beat you down." Her four amber eyes narrowed to thin slits.

Finally, he threw up his hands in surrender. "This isn't worth it," he said aloud. "At this rate, you're never going to be civilized. Just stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours. You can have the greenhouse. I'm going to my quarters." And without giving Whiplash so much the dignity of further eye contact, he retrieved his book and his drink and left. Whiplash merely watched him go and as the door closed behind him, she snorted and returned to her nap. Somehow, though, she couldn't get back to sleep.

Some months later…

Whiplash whistled through her beast mode's nostrils as she peered down the sheer ledge over Chasm Canyon. "Will ya just look at that, Abe! I need magnification just to see the bottom!" she said to a human friend standing with her.

Moonhunter didn't even spare her a glance as she piped up. Colony Zeta needed an emergency outpost along the northeast border of their territories, and Moonhunter, feeling restless, had opted to join in the survey team. Of course he hadn't realized Whiplash was assigned to the party until it was too late, but he wasn't going to back out now and let her think he was afraid of her. They had managed to avoid each other all season; he could survive half a day in a group of people with her. She had her friend with her anyway; she would keep on good behavior with them around. At the very least, she wouldn't do anything overt.

He was consulting with the leader of the science team, determining the pros and cons of setting up the outpost in their current location. Being near the edge of the massive fissure on the planet's surface meant it would be easy to defend against Predacon raiders. It would be otherwise isolated, but that was the point: they needed something way out here to store supplies in the event of an emergency. There were plenty venomous creatures amongst the local fauna; medical supplies were also important to have easily accessible.

All in all, Moonhunter loved his job. It gave him the opportunity to do what he had been doing his entire multiple existences, protect others. But he was able to perform that function in a much less violent way than his old life. He still had the aura of a bounty hunter: grim, unpredictable. He could tell people still saw him that way when they looked at him. In general, though, they regarded him with much more trust these days than they had when he had first taken over Colony Zeta's security department. Moonhunter still didn't fit in, but he had managed to carve a niche for him amongst this community, the odd personality conflict or two notwithstanding.

Even though Whiplash's antics didn't warrant his attention, they were enough to make his conversational partner break off their discussion for a moment. "I wouldn't stand so close to the edge if I were you," Dr. Sterling said, the Irish lilt in her voice growing slightly more pronounced. That wasn't a good sign; she always did that when something concerned her. "The ledge around this particular area of the canyon is laced with deposits of rock that fragment easily. I don't know if it could support your weight."

"What? You sayin' I'm fat?" Whiplash asked with a snort, turning around to look at Sterling. Moonhunter had noticed that the young Maximal spent more time with human companions than she did with other Maximals; over the months she had picked up more than a few human quirks. It wasn't uncommon; Cybertronians were a mimicking race, which made them cultural sponges. Whiplash just seemed to be more impressionable than most, but that could be just due to her youth.

Moonhunter himself tried very hard to keep from acting too human in public so no one would suspect that he had once been one. Considering, however, that he told everyone that he had been "built" on Earth and seeing what Whiplash got away with, perhaps it was time to consider letting more of himself show through. Odds were no one would bat an eye.

Sterling sighed and rubbed her forehead. Unlike the other human members of the expedition, she was bold enough to go out without an exosuit and thus was free to make such gestures. "No, I'm sayin' ye're built out of heavy metals, lass."

As if the very earth agreed with her, there was a resounding CRACK directly underneath the young Maximal. All heads whipped around to her, suddenly the center of attention. She froze in place, her four yellow eyes darting between the scientist and the field commander – which just so happened to be Moonhunter – for guidance.

"Don't move!" he barked. For once she couldn't argue with him. Personal vendettas did not apply to this situation…

"I'm not!" she practically screamed. Well, perhaps they did. "What now?"

Moonhunter turned to the third Maximal in their party, a giant in the skin of an elephant. Moonhunter nodded and Hauler edged in closer without a word. He rarely ever spoke. Rumors about the Maximal circulated throughout the colony. Some said he was an ex-Decepticon, a long-long brother of the Constructicons themselves. Some speculated he had even been a member of the famous Ark expedition that had brought the Great War to Earth. Hauler never denied – or confirmed – such rumors.

None of that mattered at the moment though. Whoever he had been, Hauler was now Whiplash and Abe's only hope. He lifted his trunk and extended it towards them, segments of flesh splitting to reveal the powerful cable that his trunk concealed. It would be strong enough to lift the both of them to more stable ground.

Time seemed to slow as the cable snaked through the air towards the pair in crisis. Everyone held their breaths, Moonhunter included.

Another crack.

Abe Lukas panicked and leapt for the wire.

The ground underneath his feet rumbled and began to give way. Whiplash yelped as the earth bellow her crumbled. She pumped her legs, frantically laboring to tread falling rock to safer ground, but her weight was too much. She had chosen her alternate form for its strength and endurance, not its speed. With a scream, she disappeared over the ledge amongst the falling rocks.

The former bounty hunter reacted reflexively. Without contemplation he ran past the saved human and dived into the canyon. "Moonhunter MAXIMIZE!" he bellowed at the top of his vocalizer. Whether he liked her or not, he could not stand idly by and watch someone die.

"Moonhunter NO!" someone screamed behind him, but he was already in the air.

He could not fly. His booster packs could increase how high he jumped or adjust a decent but that was all. With a flare of power from them he used them to increase the speed of his fall until he was almost caught up with Whiplash.

Transform! He ordered her over transmission.

Why? she demanded.

JUST DO IT! He ordered. Throw me one of your whips!

Somehow despite the velocity of their plummet he saw her nod. "Whiplash maximize!" The beast unfolded into a robot and she yanked out one of her trademark weapons. She took a moment to adjust for their velocity but then she sent her whip flying towards Moonhunter for the third time in her life. This time he wanted it, this time he grabbed it in his hand and ignored the sting of impact as it penetrated the flesh of his left hand.

I got you, now hold on tight! The bottom no longer needed magnification to see. In fact, it was coming up rapidly. He raised his right arm and out of it emerged a grapnel launcher. He shot his wire and hoped for the best.

It found purchase somewhere and the wire drew taut. Moonhunter felt gravity pull at him from the arms and nearly rip them out of their sockets as he became the next link in the chain, followed by Whiplash's whip and finally herself. The forces of nature were not done with them, however, as they bounced and jostled and swung before finally settling down.

"Retract your whip!" he called down, now able to return to vocal speech.

For once she didn't argue, and Moonhunter felt the planet matter in his hand constructing as she used it to climb her way closer up towards him. His plan was to grab her as soon as she was close enough to hold hands, but as he should have known, plans rarely worked out.

"Why'd you stop?" he asked when she was just a few feet away.

There was no defiance, just weariness in her voice as she answered. "That's as short as it gets."

"Well then climb up it towards me."

"I… I need a moment," she admitted. Her large optics darted left and right. She seemed shaken by her near-death experience.

"Just a minute. No longer."

"What are we supposed to do now?" she asked.

"By now I'm sure the rest of the team have signaled base. They'll dispatch fliers to pick us up. All we have to do is hold-"

"Why did you save me?" she interrupted. She was processing a lot – the fact that she had been about to die, the fact that she hadn't, and the fact that she had been saved by someone she hated with every fiber of her being.

"…What?" he asked, baffled by the question.

"Why. did. you. save. me?"

Moonhunter blinked, his turn to be stunned for an instant. "Do I really have to say it? I wasn't going to just let you die."

She seemed genuinely perplexed. "But I hate you! And you hate me!"

"Kid," he gasped. "That's not important in times like these. I don't know what kind of upbringing you had, but Maximals are supposed to save lives." The secret irony of him being the one to tell her struck him. She was probably more Maximal than he.

She gasped… not the reaction he had expected. He moved his eyes down to meet hers but instead found her focused on her vine. It was beginning to fray.

His voice was leveled, calm as he instructed, "Get your other whip."

She began to panic. "I dropped it when we stopped falling!"

"Then start climbing," he instructed, "NOW! Grab my arm before the vine breaks."

Without a word she began to scramble up the semi-organic cord. Moonhunter balled his right hand into a fist nervously, useless because the grapnel was mounted on his right forearm. And his left hand remained tightly wrapped around Whiplash's cord, her tenuous link to survival. "Come on, come on…"

She raised her hand to grab his arm. She was mere centimeters from contact. He felt her brush against his fur.

Then the vine snapped. They both scrambled to grab hold of each other but failed.

"NO!" he yelled. She screamed as she fell to the ground… and impacted with a sickening THUD.

Some days later…

Moonhunter looked somber as ever as he entered Colony Zeta's primary medical bay. Chief Medical Officer Lightfang awaited him in the center of the room, datapad in hand. The bright-white was thankfully not busy this day; only a few aids scampered about, attending to a minor issue or two amongst their fellow colonists. Lightfang appreciated these times while she could and took advantage to keep the room practically sterile. Too many times this place had been packed with one emergency or another, stained in blood and mech-fluid. "Hello old friend," she greeted him.

"You said you had something I should see?" he asked. She didn't take the lack of returned pleasantries seriously; that was just the way Moonhunter was. She knew he cared about her in his own way. Actions spoke louder than words and as a man of action Moonhunter was a very loud individual indeed.

"It's about Whiplash," she said gently, handing him the pad. Considering the events of recent days, this needed to be broken to him gently.

He looked at her with bewildered confusion before accepting the pad. On its display were her internal schematics, zoomed in on her core processor. "What am I looking at here?" he asked, frowning.

"Doesn't it look familiar?" she asked. "Vector in at one-nine-two and zoom."

Moonhunter did so. One look at her insides from that angle and his optics grew large. His hand went limp and he dropped the datapad, allowing it to fall to the floor and break. But Lightfang had anticipated a reaction like that. She said nothing as he seemed to process what he saw.

Finally he spoke, his voice shockingly dull: "I need to see her."

Lightfang nodded and placed her hand on his arm, then led him to the intensive care room.

Some minutes later…

"I told you I'm fine!" Whiplash bellowed, using her one remaining arm to fling a tray at the human aide attending her. "Frag you, you mud-spawned glitcher! Don't ya know how to insert a dataplug? That surge slaggin' hurt!"

"I'll take care of it," Lightfang said to announce her presence. The gray and silver femme was a welcome sight for the damaged youngster as she walked into the room. Much to Whiplash's surprise, though, Moonhunter loomed behind her, staring at her oddly. She squirmed under the intent gaze of her enemy and savior, unable to determine the look in his optics.

She diverted her attention to the most pleasant figure and ignored Moonhunter and the fleeing aide. "Hey, how're my legs coming?" she asked with a grin. "I know I'm part plant but I never wanted to be a stump!"

"They're almost repaired, along with your other arm. By the time we have those connected we should be able to disconnect you from spark support and let the rest of your wounds heal in a CR chamber." Lightfang smiled.

That smile made Whiplash suspicious. She was hiding something, and Moonhunter's presence confirmed it.

"What's going on?" she asked, all vigor leaving her. The most sensitive machines hooked up to her chirred and beeped, betraying her nerves.

"Whiplash…" Lightfang asked, taking a seat on the berth beside hers. "I need you to be completely honest with me. What made you decide to sign up to this colony?"

She shot a glance to Moonhunter, who had taken up a position in a shadowy corner of the room. For the first time ever though, she saw his posture sagging. He looked… haunted. Slowly, she asked, "Why?"

"Please just answer the question," Lightfang asked gently.

Whiplash sighed, hesitated, then figured, What the hell? "Honestly? I signed up on impulse. I ran into Fanc… Moonhunter one day in Cybertropolis. I don't know why but for some reason I was fascinated with him. He didn't even notice me, some street scamp with barely enough armor. But I know that city inside and out. I followed him. Like I said, I don't know why, it was like this urge I couldn't resist. I watched him go in to a colony recruitment center and sign up. After he left… I decided to sign up too."

"The homing program," Moonhunter said quietly.

"The what program?"

"How old are you?" he asked instead of repeating himself.

"Why? What's going on!?" she struggled to get up but then remembered she didn't have legs.

Lightfang stood up and placed an arm on her. Whiplash looked up in panic. What weren't they telling her?

"Let me tell you a story," Lightfang finally said. "Over a vorn ago, Moonhunter called himself Gunslinger. Does that name mean anything to you?"

Whiplash shook her head and looked at Moonhunter. He took a step forward, then seemed to loose his nerve and remain where he stood.

Lightfang waited a moment as if giving him a chance to jump in before she continued: "Before he became a bounty hunter, Gunslinger served as a security guard in a slum district on Cybertron. He lived in squalor because he was spending all his money on the protoform he was building. He wanted a family, you see. But the day he brought that protoform online, Predacon terrorists attacked and blew up his home."

"Well what does that have to do with me?" Whiplash demanded. Her mind was failing to connect, was refusing to even acknowledge the possibility that…

"You were that protoform," Moonhunter said it. He stepped forward and finally spoke, saying the very four words that she did not want to hear.

"NO!" she screamed, propping herself up on her one arm. He was lucky that she didn't have another because if she had had she would have grabbed the nearest object and thrown it at him.

He began walking toward her. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" she screamed, and then all the machines around her went ballistic. She felt her spark spasm and clutched at her chest.

Lightfang was all over her in an instant. Against her will Whiplash felt herself grow numb, physically and emotionally. As the world began to fade around her she heard the medic, the one being she thought she could trust, tell Moonhunter, "I think you should go for now…"

And then everything went dark.

Some days later…

Moonhunter sat behind his desk in his office, which seemed colder than ever. His entire third life felt like a lie. This whole time, his "daughter," the one he had recreated himself to avenge… had been alive. He had been told there wasn't a shadow of a chance she could have survived that explosion. He should have known better though. She had inherited his ability to survive any odds… for better or worse. And while he had been out fighting the lowest life forms across the galaxy, she had been back on Cybertron, doing… what, exactly?

He had given her life, and he didn't even know how she had spent it.

He heard the chime of someone at his office door. Since word had gotten out – it was impossible to keep secrets in a community this minute – Crosshare and his other aides had been working to cover for him. In fact, Crosshare and Sterling had been the only ones to visit his office in days. Even his son Cassidy avoided him during business hours. He found the prospect of company welcoming, though. Maybe his office would feel less like a tomb. "Come in," he called.

The door opened, revealing the fully repaired figure of Whiplash in her robot mode, arms folded.

They silently stared at each other as she stood in his threshold. Moonhunter regarded her with new optics. Her robot form looked nothing like the one he had built. Obviously, someone had found her and rebuilt her in their image. But that stubborn streak, the one he had found so damn irritating… that had come from him. That was what she had inherited from the programming he had donated to her. That and her fascination with humanity. It all made sense, in retrospect.

She had made the first move by coming to him. Now he sensed the ball was in his court. Slowly, he stood up and emerged from behind his desk. This call had nothing to do with business… but he wasn't sure how much it had to do with "family" either. Did he even deserve to call her that?

"They told me you were dead," he said weakly, continuing the story Lightfang had started days ago. "They told me there was no chance you could have survived."

"Lightfang explained it all to me," she said quickly. "She made me come here."

Even though he no longer had a human heart, he felt it sink. "I see."

"I don't really want to talk to you. I don't even know what to say to you," she elaborated. "Gyosh. You're like Darth Vader in reverse."

Despite himself, Moonhunter chuckled briefly as he folded his arms. "Brutal honestly. I know you'll probably hate to hear this, but you got that from me."

She snorted. "You're right. I didn't want to hear that."

They lapsed back into uncomfortable silence, each staring at the other, unconsciously sharing the same pose.

"So what now?" she finally asked.

"Now? I honestly don't know," Moonhunter shrugged. "I know I can't claim any rights as your creator, and I wouldn't even if I could. You lived a completely different life from the one I had planned for you, became a completely different individual. I have to respect that. All I can provide… is some answers you might have about where you came from. Believe me, my own origins are a doozy."

"Yeah?" she asked cynically. "Lightfang said something similar."

"When I feel that I can trust you with that story, I'll tell you," he promised. "For now, there's a lot of trust we need to build up… on both sides."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with you."

"So, maybe we can start out by spending an hour together each day? You can come over, hang out with me and Cassidy. We'll get to know each other better."

She wavered, obviously finding that thought daunting. He was sure some part of her still hated him. The thought of spending regular time not just with him, but the clone that he was raising as a son probably intimidated her to no end. "All right," she finally agreed.

"Twenty-hundred hours sound good to you?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

"There's a human saying…" he offered, but before he could say it she cut him off.

"'You can't pick family'?"

Surprised but pleased, he nodded. "That's the one." They shared a nervous chuckle. "I'll see you at twenty-two hundred, okay?"

"Okay," she said before turning and retreating out his door. As she turned, her tails whipped around and smacked him on the leg. If it registered to her she didn't stop to apologize, and a moment later Moonhunter was left staring at the closed door.

Sighing, he returned to his desk and picked up an old-fashioned 2D picture of a lankier, younger image of his beast form. A run-in with a native life form on the planet had produced a clone of his organic tissue: his son. When he had signed up to this colony, Moonhunter had not expected find a family. As he set the picture down he sighed. "They grow up so fast."