Pocket Wolf (TF:P SI as a Targetmaster/Weaponizer)
- Thread starter Cave_Canem
- Start date
Remind me, was Predaking around when the Insecticons were still active?
I mean it might probably cheapen the uniqueness of the Dinobots if any bot can do it. Grimlock and his team (Lightning Strike Coalition Force) were forcibly reformatted by Shockwave as part of his experiments after seeing dinosaurs on Earth that interest him, and the Rescue Bots were apparently a team of Triple Changers (plus Optimus* as well) who can use vehicle and dinosaur modes.
*It could relate to Optimus who's the Thirteenth Prime and one of his brothers Amalgamous Prime who can change into any shape he wants. It wouldn't be farfetched if he gave Optimus the power of Triple Changer via the Matrix of Leadership to give him a slight edge.
Most likely, Shockwave was busy on Cybertron where he cloned and raised Predaking as his new project to pass the time until he got the Space Bridge signal that led him to Knock Out and his Vehicon retinue at the ruins of the Omega Lock.
Krazyfan1
Worrying for the future.
- Location
- Australia
if i remember right, the cheapness is lessened a bit due to the dinobotification requiring training to not get their mind overwritten by Dino Instincts.
while for the Dinobots, besides Grimlock, they all seemed to be fine with their modes.
That sounds like an evil way for Megatron to get the Rescue Bots to make them be overriden by the dinosaur instincts and forget who they are under intense torture or push them to the breaking point, rubbing in their helplessness that they could have used those Dino Forms but chose not to while his forces attack Griffin Rock.
Guess Grimlock and his team are literally built different. Except Sludge who apparently died or went into stasis lock in Fall of Cybertron game when Jazz and Cliffjumper found him among the ruins of an Insecticon nest.
Krazyfan1
Worrying for the future.
- Location
- Australia
i mean they managed to get control of their forms eventually, so i could see them use them in combat.
i think he survived in the official comics?
Maybe but if the Rescuebots actually fight back at the Decepticons, they would no longer see themselves as Rescuebots anymore. Ravage mentioned in this story that the previous Rescuebots who chose to fight back turned their badges in, seeing themselves unworthy of being members of an organization that help everyone. Even if it was justified due to the Decepticons forcing them to pick a side with them or the Autobots during the war.
Yeah although the comics, shows and games don't tie in with each other and they tend to go very differently.
Krazyfan1
Worrying for the future.
- Location
- Australia
Perhaps instead they use their new size and strength to help rescue civilians and move better in all terrains?
That would do, so long the Rescuebots are not fighting back at the Decepticons. If Grimlock ever happened to have been buried somewhere on Griffin Rock for millions of years of stasis lock which a cube of Energon can wake him up when dug up and recovered, then he will be the one to fight for the Rescuebots and let them do their jobs.
Grimlock may not like Optimus Prime due to their differences but he draws the line at the Decepticons and their cruelty towards bots weaker than them and dragging everyone else into it, hence he was in the Autobots.
Omake - Honest Mistakes (CenturionsofRome)
New
- Location
- Alaska, USA
So since this idea won't leave me alone... Have an Omake!CenturionsofRome said:
The moment the level two's clean room came into view Ravage's gaze snapped to the workbench centrally located in the room, surrounded by waldos and smaller mobile tables which held tools, chemicals, and the occasional partially disassembled part.
A workbench which was empty.
She quickly scanned the room, but the target of her gaze was nowhere to be found.
"Where's Spitfire?" she asked with deceptive calm.
"What do you mean? He's-" Frankie looked into the room "-not where we left him. Shit!"
The girl darted over to a nearby console and began frantically going through screens.
"The Positive Pressure System isn't reporting any breaches," she said quickly, "So barring something like teleportation he should still be in there."
Ravage immediately made her way to the airlock.
"Let me in."
Frankie didn't argue.
The airlock, and solvent spray, took far, far too long for Ravage's liking, but she'd long learned the value of patience, and panicking wouldn't help Spitfire.
She practically shouldered the inner airlock door open the moment it unlocked, bounding over to the workbench.
The air was filled with the smells of oils, lubricants, and liquid Energon, so scent was useless, but... there.
Scratches in the floor, as though something made of metal had been dragged. Though there was something off about the marks...
"raVagE?"
Ravage froze at the sound of a damaged vocalizer receiving insufficient power.
Dreading what she would see, she slowly turned.
With the sound of metal scraping against tile, the partially disassembled chassis of a Cyberwolf dragged itself towards her from the corner where the airlock met the wall, the sole place in the room not visible from behind the glass wall.
A single red optic, the other dark and unpowered, stared at her from a bare skull, processor components visible though gaps in the metal and jaw dangling limp.
The skull was attached to an equally skeletal neck, visibly straining against the pull of gravity to point the head at her, several cables and tubes dangling from it.
The torso had nothing protecting its internals either, leaving, among other components, the Spark Chamber exposed to Ravage's gaze. With only the front legs receiving any power, and one hind leg missing entirely, the abdomen was dragged along the floor, causing parts and cables to break free from internal mounting brackets and be pulled along by power cables and ducting. Between the components, the Energon drip-feed tube still connected to his chest, and loose cables spreading out from the wolf's open belly, the display resembled the spilled entrails of an organic.
"yoU'rE o-o-okaY?" Spitfire whined pitifully, still slowly dragging himself towards Ravage on barely functional paws, claws digging into the tile to give himself enough traction.
"I'm okay, my Little Wolf," Ravage said, swallowing back her horror, distantly noting that the inside of the airlock door was covered in claw marks as though something, or someone, had desperately tried to get out.
Forcing her limbs to move she quickly strode over to Spitfire and lay down in front of him so that he wouldn't strain his barely functional systems trying to get to her.
"I thou-ou-ou-ght thAt YOu haD be-e-e-ee-n scrA-a-a-a-peD to fix mE," he stuttered, lowering his head to rest on his paws, lone optic taking in her off-color replacement plating.
"I'm okay, Spitfire. You'll BE okay," Ravage soothed, "But please, power down before you hurt yourself further."
"I thoug-g-g-g-t wE had bEen-n-n-n fouNd bY MECH," Spitefire's optic fixed on hers, "I diiiiiiidn't WAnt to en-en-end up liKE Breakdown."
Sympathetic horror lanced though her processor. She'd read that report. To boot up in a lab, mostly disassembled, with herself nowhere in sight? And given the last thing he probably remembered?
Being found and destined to be experimented on by MECH was a valid conclusion.
A flicker of movement caused her to glance over to see a worried and alarmed Heatwave looking in through the window.
"We weren't found by MECH," she said, "take a look."
Spitfire slowly turned his skull to look out the window.
"...Rescuebots?"
"Rescuebots," she confirmed, "We're safe, Spitfire."
He slowly turned back to her.
"...I-I-I reMEMber fail-l-l-ling. I couLDn't get u-u-u-us out."
"You got us close enough. You did enough. Now it's our turn to help you. Please, power down so we can fix you."
She shifted her weight to get a better view of his torso, attempting to assess how much damage Spitfire had done to himself, but he misinterpreted the movement and panicked.
"Please don't leave!" He cried, diverting power to his vocalizer to be better understood, "Don't leave me! Please!"
Ravage gently nosed his jaw hinge, the only place on his head that she felt was safe to touch, letting out a soothing purr. She desperately wanted to run her glossa over him to soothe him further, but without any plating that was far too likely to cause more damage.
"I'm not going anywhere," she promised as his cries died to an inarticulate lupine whimper, "I promise. You're stuck with me, Little Wolf. But please, shut down. I promise I'll still be here when you boot back up."
Spitfire's optic searched her face for a long moment before dimming as his body went slack, finally powering down.
Ravage looked up as she heard the airlock cycle, Doc Greene entering the room with a grim expression on his face.
"How did this happen?" she demanded, in no mood for niceties or placations.
"I don't know," the human responded, "he was offline an hour ago when I left to get food and a nap while the next batch of parts printed. The last thing I did was plug in..." A look of realization flashed over his face, "...his photovoltaic network."
"I don't understand," Blades said over the intercom, "I thought beastformer's photovoltaic networks only powered tertiary systems. That's why I okayed Doc plugging that back in, to reduce the strain on his spark."
Ravage grimaced, anger leaking out of her as the sequence of events played out in her head.
"That's true for full-sized beastformers," she said, "but we're minicons."
"Square-cube law," Doc Greene realized.
"Square-cube law," she confirmed, "Our smaller size means we have smaller power demands, and our greater surface to volume ratio means our photovoltaic networks can meet a proportionally greater percentage of our power needs."
"Including enough power to run your processor," he murmured.
A mistake. One born of ignorance and a genuine desire to help.
"Scrap," Blades moaned, "I'm sorry Ravage. I... scrap. I'm an emergency trauma medic. Doc's an engineer specialized in experimental technology. In a sane galaxy we never would have been involved in rebuilding a cybertronian from near scrap. But this isn't a sane galaxy, and we can't contact Rachet. Primus forgive us, but Doc Greene and I are the only ones with even the most basic idea of what we're doing on the whole island."
Ravage cycled exhaust and nodded.
Doc Greene stepped over and surveyed the mess Spitfire had made of his chassis.
"We need to get him back on the workbench. Can you carry him while I hold his parts in?"
She nodded, and reached over to gently grab the reinforced neck strut at the scruff of Spitfire's neck in her fangs.
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