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Megatron's Kit Megatron stood silently in the alley way, the little female kit hiding behind his back leg, ready for her initiation. She blinked out at the street bustling with Twolegs and their monsters, shivering in terror at the creatures that she had instinctively known where not their friends. The other Bloodclan cats stood hidden in the niches of the alley, watching in interest at what the little kit would do. She mewed up at him, huddling against his leg, fearing what she was going to have to do. He flicked his tail once before he turned and padded back into the alley, leaving her by the entrance to begin.
She mewed several times, trembling on the spot. He twitched his tail several times, leaving her where she was while the others remained silent. She was going to attract Twoleg attention with her mewing, and then they had to see how she would react to the encounter. If she fled, she would not be fully accepted, safe amongst them, but
Optimus Prime had been within his claws, mere inches from death when Starscream royally slagged it all up. No one could quite mess up a plan like his 'favourite' second in command, especially when given specific orders which were supposed to prevent such a catastrophe.
Now the infuriating Autobots had escaped, his own territory was burning and Starscream was cowering in the hopes that he would be forgiven.
Unlikely, considering the damage done to their hunting grounds was all Starscream's fault.
Megatron pounced at the whimpering menace, snarling as he threw the other dragon to the ground and pinned him there. His claws threatened to pierce through the scales, sharp fangs bared.
"M-master, I did not mean-"
"SILENCE!" Megatron roared over the noise of the flames. They were out of control, growing closer by the minute. Dragons were impervious to fire to a certain extent but only for a short period of time. If they stayed much longer, they'd likely suffocate from the noxious smoke fi
SweepAs soon as he stepped into the open field, he slung the minesweeper from his shoulder and pointed its nose to the ground. It was old, worn and heavy, and old and rough, calloused and breaking, and old. The metal between his hands was cold and chilled his fingers. If he was not careful he could step on the very mines he was trying to find. They would have to pick up the pieces of his body and to send the tags home where his wife would cry and hold his son and daughter close with nothing to show them of their father but a piece of metal engraved with "Ajeet Singh".
One sweep, than another.
This war had taught him to never trust open spaces. Open spaces were where the mines were planted, where Prets lay in wait. France was green and damp just like the uniform he wore. It had been days since he was separated from his unit, and now the Allies were breathing on his neck, searching for POW’s, searching for the enemy of which he was one. &
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More