TRANSFORMERS (tm) and all related characters are property of HASBRO/TAKARA, INC. Used without permisson. This story is not for sale or publication, and is not intended to be an infringement of copyright or act of plagarism. Original story Copyright 1999 Lady Razorsharp Melody Silver/Golden Eighth Note Ltd.
Snow
by The Lady Razorsharp
Snow crunched under Optimus' tires as he drove alone down the mountain road from the Ark, the chains on all eighteen of his wheels jangling like the faraway sound of sleigh bells. Soft white flakes of snow landed on his plating, the light touches feeling almost ticklish as their feathery mass melted on the alloy. All around him, the Oregon woods glistened with a pristine white blanket, the full moon sailing high above in a spangled sky. It was altogether the most beautiful night he had ever spent on Earth, and as always, the landscape stunned and awed him with its splendor.
Prime almost hated to disturb the silence with the throaty roar of his own engine, but duty once again came before his personal preferences. The schoolchildren of Portland had amassed thousands of signatures to petition City Hall earlier that fall, asking that Optimus be made Grand Marshall of this year's Christmas parade, and Optimus knew he could not refuse, even if he had wanted to. It heartened him to know that after all the destruction that he and his Autobots had unwittingly heaped upon this small planet--and especially the immediate area around where his ship had come to rest four million years ago--that the people of Earth were willing to forgive, at least for one night. He wondered what he had ever done to deserve such credit, such trust on the part of this fickle, fragile species.
He engaged his wipers to sweep away the snowflakes on his windshield, not that he needed to; many humans had the misconception that he saw out the twin windows while in vehicle mode, when in actuality, he used a highly-developed scanning system to navigate the terrain ahead. The action was part of the disguise, since a sharp-opticed Decepticon could easily pick out the only semi on the road with snow heaped on its windows. Making a turn from the unpaved mountain trail to the slushy asphalt of the county road, Prime wondered for a moment if the Decepticons ever took the time to appreciate the inherent beauty of the planet they were so bent on squeezing dry.
Megatron checked his proximity scanner once more, the tiny chirp from the sensor on his arm swallowed by the stillness of the snowy forest. Prime would be along any moment now...
The Decepticon leader snapped the sensor closed, knowing it would alert him in enough time to ready himself for the attack. Meanwhile, the snow continued to fall in thick, soft sheets all around, muffling even the heavy thump of his own steel boots on the frozen ground. It was the most perfect opportunity for ambush that Megatron had ever seen, and he intended to take full advantage of it. Optimus was also alone, his Autobots having gone on into the human settlement a few cycles ahead in preparation for the fleshling's yearly deity celebration. This could not be any better if Prime were--how did the flesh creatures say it?--gift wrapped?
As he waited, Megatron stood among the white-trimmed pines, feeling the snow brush against his tough plating. The sensation was almost...enjoyable, in a way. Softness was a rarity in the angular, titanium surroundings he was accustomed to, and it had the potential to distract him. Scowling, he dusted the snow from his helmet and shoulders, determined to keep his focus despite the caress of the delicate flakes.
Still lost in thought, Optimus failed to notice a patch of asphalt that lay in his path, sparkling with shards of ice. By the time he realized his trailer was beginning to skid sideways on the road, it was too late, and he nearly yelped aloud in pain as a tire popped against a sharp splinter of ice. With a squeal of brakes, Prime finally came to a stop and transformed into robot mode. An annoyed sigh escaped the Autobot leader as he inspected his trailer; Ratchet would have to repair it before he could use it again. He could almost hear the admonishments from the old repair tech, the warnings to look where he was going, and be more careful, and so forth. He checked his internal chrono and groaned internally, knowing he would not make it on foot in time.
The falling flakes were piling up faster than he could brush them away, so Megatron decided to ignore them completely. He strained his audio circuits, trying to listen for the thrum of Prime's motor, but he could scan nothing in the immediate area. When had the sound stopped? He had no recollection of the exact moment; the accursed snow was muffling every modicum of sound for miles. Besides that, he had been lulled into the depths of his own quiet musings, and he cursed himself inwardly for being so easily thrown off course. There would be no excusing it if the great Megatron, leader of the Decepticon army, could not do something as simple as track his prey. Disregarding the white drift on his noseplate, Megatron swept the forest with a short-range scan until he located Prime--on foot, from what he could gather, and not ten kliks away. Perfect.
How disappointed the children would be, Prime mused, his footfalls muffled from their usual hollow ring to a dull thud against the snowy road. His alloy skin had finally chilled to the temperature of the air, so the flakes no longer melted when they touched him. Periodically, he dusted the snow from his shoulders as he walked, lest he look like the abominable snowman to some hapless traveler. Although who would be out on a night like this? Still, it would be best to try to get to the parade, at least as close to on time as he could. If he didn't, it would look like he was spurning the trust of the people of Oregon, and Earth itself, and Prime knew he could not afford that.
Megatron's proximity sensor began to chirp softly again, and he acknowledged it with an impatient tap of his finger against the panel. As he moved silently between the trees, he was amazed once more at how the snow took the sound of his metal body and dissapated it into nothingness. When he reached the last trees lining the road, he stopped to wait until Prime came into view, the unrelenting snow still falling thick all around him. In fascination, he turned up the palm of his gauntleted hand, capturing a handful of the flakes and studying them intently. His curiosity piqued, Megatron scanned the tiny bits of ice, marvelling at their intricate designs. They were perfections of engineering! Functional, yet graceful, with no waste of space, aerodynamic, the list went on and on! Why hadn't he seen this before? What a strange place this Earth was!
It was more instinct than not, a half-shadow behind the lacy curtain of moonlight, that drew Prime's attention to the side of the road. Were the trees moving? Up ahead, a branch was clean of snow, its black-green branch suddenly bare, where a moment before it had been frosted with white. Had the load of snow just become too great, sliding from the branch in a small avalanche? Or was it something else? He hesitated to scan; if it was a Decepticon, it would sense his scan, and again he would be forced to injure the landscape to survive. Warily, he trod on, his hand on the safety of his rifle.
The woods were quiet--too quiet, for Megatron's taste, as he waited in the gathering drifts for his prey to walk straight into his trap. Had Prime sensed his presence? Had he unwittingly given himself away, while in a stupor over a thing such as petty as a snowflake? Or was this cold blight making Prime's progress silent, undetectable? Angered, Megatron decided that if catching Optimus meant waiting in this infernal storm a microsecond longer, he would be glad to wait until the scales--and the weather--were tipped more in his favor. Pushing aside the trees, the snow spraying in all directions as he clambered through the branches, Megatron stepped into the road--and froze.
The two enemies stood not thirty meters from each other, both stopped speechless in their tracks. Oblivious to them and their age-old conflict, the timeless snow shrouded them in mantles of silver and white.
Somewhere, a bell tolled seven. The parade, Optimus realized, would start in one hour, and he still had quite a distance to go. Tearing his optics from Megatron, willing him silently to do whatever he would, Optimus kept walking on.
Megatron watched as Optimus drew closer, his words stolen from him by the silence, his hot anger chilled by the bitter cold. When Optimus stood an arm's length away, he turned toward the Autobot leader, his mouth working--but no words came. After a moment, Optimus nodded silently, and continued his trek along the road.
Megatron let him pass.
When Optimus reached the top of the hill leading to town, he looked back toward the place he and the Decepticon leader had stood, but Megatron was gone. The words of an Earth song, many centuries old, came to Prime as he stood and surveyed the place where the animosity of ages could have torn the silence apart.
_Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright._
*The End*
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