"This beast form is quite interesting," she said, flashing her tongue. "It's certainly suitable."

Rattrap glanced at her nervously, then grimaced as she rolled one eye in his direction. "Ew. Please don't do that!"

Her other eye rolled teasingly. "Do what?"

"That!" Rattrap said, holding up a paw to block the view. "That's disgusting. How can you do that?"

Chamelea shrugged her small shoulders. "Comes with the packaging." She curled and uncurled her tail before continuing. "Do you know a quick way to get into that base?"

Rattrap dared his paw down. "Well, yeah. There's a small gap in the hull around the east side. Considering, of course, you manage to get past the defenses."

"Not a problem. I've been into triple weapon-protected fortresses before. We'll need to split up in the base, though, if we're going to find that chip." She rolled a quick eye. "So we'll obviously need to communicate, but secretly. Do you know Morse code?"

Rattrap nodded, trying to look impatient as though everyone knew the tapping code, even though he himself wasn't too sure if he'd remember it correctly. He somehow felt the need to impress her.

A former Striker... I probably look like a real amateur to her.

Chamelea didn't seem to notice his attempt at arrogance, however. She merely nodded in response and quickly flashed her tongue. "Great. Let's go. It might be slower, but we'll be more inconspicuous in beast mode." She gave him that playful smile of hers. "Lead the way, handsome."

Rattrap sharply turned to her, only to realize with a small twinge of disappointment that she was kidding.

Yup... this is really going to take some getting used to.

***

"Stop doing that!"

"Doing what?"

"You know what I mean! Rolling those huge eyeballs of yours! It's disgusting!"

Chamelea sighed in mock exasperation. "Surely a brave Maximal like you can take a little torture?"

Rattrap shivered in disgust. "Yeah, but that's just too much! Eeech..."

The two Maximals had been well on their way to the Predacon base, minus a few arguments. Rattrap had struggled to keep his eyes of her, but it was hard. Even in this awkward beast form, she still seemed so... enticing. It was difficult to look away, but of course those eyes did help a bit...

Chamelea finally turned her eyes straight ahead, as amusing as it was to torture Rattrap with them. Best leave some for later, she decided with an inward smile.

"Can I ask you something?" Chamelea said.

"You just did."

Chamelea eyed him with a 'very-funny' expression.

"Seriously, do... you believe in destiny?" she asked, somewhat absently.

Rattrap shrugged, not exactly amused by the subject but slightly curious as to why she would be talking about that. "Not really. What's it to me, anyway? I never studied philosophy."

Chamelea stopped, a clearly displeased look on her face. "Philosophy has nothing to do with it." she said, nearly hissed. Then she continued, quietly, "Back in the Strikers, it was something we strongly believed in."

"What, that you have your whole life already planned out for you and all you have to do is believe that it's true?" Rattrap smirked, and started walking again. "Sorry, sister. That's just not something I'm into."

Chamelea followed, those huge eyes of hers glaring at him. "You just don't get it, do you? Destiny is about your life being planned, like you say, but it's also about having a meaning to the life you've living."

Rattrap blinked. "I thought you were a spy. Can't you just act like one? What's with the big talk about destiny?"

She hissed again, but quickly calmed down. "You might say it was a.... reason to fight for in the Strike group. We often had missions with little or no chance of survival. We convinced ourselves that if we were to die, it was our destiny, that it was meant that way, and that it was for the greater good. Destiny is about meaning-- everyone that dies, everyone that's born, it's all for a reason to fulfill. Every time something happens, it's for a reason, a meaning. Whatever may happen, as much as a surprise as it could seem, it happened for a reason. The fact that I'm talking to you right now, that's for a reason."

Rattrap peered at her, suddenly interested. "Which would be...?"

"Knowing your destiny would defy its purpose. Though you may think that you know what you're going to do, that you know what's going to happen, you can never be sure. Some people think that it just happens randomly, that life is just a collection of events that tumble together without any reason. Destiny is different, and it was the only thing we cared to believe in."

Rattrap looked at her curiously, realizing as though for the first time what a shady and troubled past she must have had. He had heard reports of the Shadow Strikers, and had always secretly encouraged them. Though they seemed like outlaws, no one could deny they were true helpers during the war, offering a huge aid in times of despair.

And now, there he was, facing a member of that group, one that, once an outlaw, was now part of his own team. He briefly thought of the things she might have done, realizing her need to talk, and steeled himself for the question he had been holding back for her.

"Say, Cham.... if you don't mind my asking.... did you ever kill anyone?"

Chamelea raised her head and giggled, as though she had just been asked where the sky was. "Didn't you ever read the reports? Of course I killed.... in fact, assassination was my specialty." Her mouth quirked into what might have been a proud smile. "Remember the murder report on air-commander Firebolt?"

Rattrap gasped. That assassination had taken place nearly fifty years ago and was still talked about with awe. The report had said Firebolt had first been decapitated, stabbed to near death and finally burned alive. His burnt exostructure had been carefully placed back with his head, the words "Not The First... Nor The Last" sickenly etched in the puddled mech fluid. Firebolt had been a Predacon commander, in command of the aerial strike team during the war. Despised by every living Maximal, granted, but it was hardly agreed that he should have died such a gruesome death. His murder had been connected to the Shadow Strikers, mostly since they quite clearly left their mark by leaving disconcerting messages behind. Firebolt had been no exception.

"You killed him?" Rattrap said, nearly shrieked. To think that this female, the one that looked so innocent....

Chamelea shrugged as though it was a normal part of everyday life. Then again, it had been to her. "It was nothing, really. All in a day's work." She sighed. "Thing is, if you were going to be a Striker, you had to throw all your ethics and morals out the viewport and do your job. Winning the war was the only thing that mattered. Sure, we cared for each other, we had friends... but we knew we could lose each other in a glance. That, we had accepted. Feelings were another thing we had to compromise."

Rattrap shook his head, looking at her in a way he never had before. The Shadow Strikers were always believed to be cold-blooded and heartless. And now this...

"But... killing all the time, sabotaging stuff that would result in the deaths of thousands... didn't it ever bother you?"

Another shrug was her only answer. "A little, at first. I suppose I got used to it. It was nearly second nature to me." She smiled. "Let's just say my dagger and I have seen a lot of action."

Chamelea stopped suddenly, and Rattrap followed her eyes to the Predacon base. They were already there? Darn, he thought. Just when the conversation was getting interesting.

"We're here," she said. "Ready for action?"

"Are you talking to me or to your dagger?"

She grinned mischievously. "I don't think I'll answer that. Let's go."

***

"She's gone?"

Rogue stood, hands on hips, a mock tone of indignity in her voice. "And I didn't even get to meet her! Frankly, Rhinox, you disappoint me."

Rhinox turned his eyes from the screen a moment to glance at her, a faint smile on his face.

"Your own fault. You should have gotten here sooner. Anyway, she'll be back."

Rogue abandoned her pose and flopped down rather ungracefully in a seat next to Rhinox. "My apologies. Things have just been so boring lately. I heard she was from the Shadow Strikers? Who are they, anyway?"

"You've never heard of them?" Rhinox asked, somewhat surprised.

Rogue shrugged. "I wasn't really into news during the wars."

"I see," Rhinox said. "Well, Chamelea used to be known as Stormer. A rather proud member of the Shadow Strikers, you might say. To be brief, the Strikers were a group of renegade Maximals during the war. They were determined to win-- no matter the cost. And that gave them a killer instinct that you wouldn't believe. But they were very good at what they did-- they never got caught, nor did anyone ever discover who they were."

"But you obviously knew Chamelea?"

"Well, yes... she saved my life."

He stopped. Rogue looked at him expectantly. "Go on."

"The Strikers had planned an attack on one of the biggest Predacon bases on one of the moons. Regal Five, I think it was called. It was some kind of weapon storage facility, I forget. Well, the problem was that we had gotten desperate enough, you might say, to risk a strike on the base and destroy it. However, the Strikers got there first. We were planning on setting a plasmic detonator somewhere inside the base and then get out of there. I was part of the team who was sent."

Rogue hid a chuckle. "You were part of a stealth team?"

Rhinox straightened, mildly offended. "Crew was short in our sector. We spared whoever we could and besides, I designed the new detonators myself. But, like I said, the Strikers got there first, and they spared no expense on explosives. They got their hands on a quantum fusion bomb."

"Aren't those illegal?"

"Not if you're a Striker in a war for survival. They weren't expecting us to arrive, however, and I suspect some stayed behind to try and get us out of there. It was too late; the bomb exploded and abolished the base, and some of our crew, too. I'd guess some Strikers were also killed." He bowed his head slightly. "Three Maximals died and two of us were severely injured, including me. I'll admit I don't remember much... but I do know Chamelea dragged me out of the wreckage and got me back on the ship. She stayed a while and tended my wounds, then said I could leave on my own. She told me her name was Stormer."

"And the other Maximal?"

"Someone got him on the ship too, but we never found out who. I managed to pilot the ship back to one of our stations, and I never heard from Stormer until a few years ago."

"Some time after the war was over?"

Rhinox nodded. "A long time, actually. It was just before the Axalon left for the deep-space exploration mission. She signed up for the crew and was transferred to a stasis pod. We saw each other then, and we talked a bit. We knew we'd see each other once the protoforms were re-formed, but once the pods were placed in orbit and could be easily stolen by the Predacons..."

"You were worried she might be re-programmed." Rogue finished. "Well, she wasn't, and we should be thankful for that. After all, isn't she a great addition to the crew? Having such experience with fighting and all?"

Rhinox stood up, looking away from Rogue. She had obviously never heard about the Strikers, or else she wouldn't be so easygoing about Chamelea in the crew.

"Was is it?" Rogue asked, spying Rhinox's expression.

Rhinox shook his head. "It's just... you don't know what they did, did you? The Strikers. And what any of them are capable of doing. Put Chamelea alone in a room with a flower, and she'd probably find a way to build a mega cannon with it. I don't doubt her loyalty to the Maximals-- but I am concerned about her attitude towards the Predacons. She could easily kill all of them with her bare hands."

"Now, you're exaggerating." Rogue said.

"See, that proves how little you know about them." He sighed. "She's over at the Predacon base now, trying to get her data chip back. I guess this is as good a test as any."

"Think she'll pass?" Rogue asked, a faint tone of amusement in her voice.

Rhinox glanced at her, shrugged again. "Like she says herself, things aren't always what they seem. And even though I'm sure I know Cham more than anyone else-- I don't have a clue what she seems to be or what she really is."

Rogue merely nodded slowly in agreement.