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Moods

Decepticons make me happy. There's nothing I enjoy more than rocketing across the cosmos in star fighter mode, tracking down one elusive target after another. It never takes long before I get 'em in my sights, lock onto them, and blow them to smithereens. I get a real kick out of flying right through the thick orange cloud that results from their destruction. There's nothing more exciting. It gets my energon pump beating every single time. What a thrill!

Decepticons terrify me. Sometimes, when I'm in hovercraft mode, I'll be patrolling the waters and they take me completely by surprise. I feel totally out of my element in the water, and there's nothing worse than picking up something on the sonar but not being able to see it.  Is it a dolphin? A whale? A Seacon? I can't stand the though of one of them catching me unawares. They could bite a hole clean through me and I'd never see it until it was too late. I feel so vulnerable.

Decepticons make me angry. All the destruction they cause, all the damage they do. They force the Autobots to waste time and resources pursuing them from planet to planet, putting up defenses agaisnt possible incursions, repairing our wounded, chasing them until we're too tired to do it anymore. As a puma, I possess some of the most keen olfactory senses of any machine ever created, and I can tell when they've been around, even if it's been days or weeks. There's nothing that infuriates me more than setting foot on a new planet only to detect that familiar scent of energon made from stolen fuel. It makes me want to tear into them with my claws and teeth until there's nothing left to shred.

Decepticons make me laugh. When I transform into a laser pistol, I become more than just a weapon. I'm the instrument of their destruction. It's an honor to serve as the sidearm for courageous Autobots like Powermaster Optimus Prime, but I'd just as soon take care of things myself. I can switch from vehicle mode to vehicle mode, but it never fails to astonish them when I change again into a gigantic laser gun. I never show them the gun mode unless I'm sure I can make the kill, so it's a surprise every single time. Heh heh.

Decepticons make me worry. I've done a lot of excavating over the years, usually mining for potential sources of fuel. It used to be that there was energy available everywhere in the galaxy, but these days there are virtually no habitable worlds with viable resources for us to use. Is it possible that the Decepticons really did suck the entire galaxy dry? More often than not, my expeditions in drill tank mode come up empty. It's like there's just nothing left for us to find. Without energy, every single Transformer alive will just grind to a halt. That's a scary thought. I wonder if that's how I'll meet my end—not from getting blown to bits in the middle of a titanic battle, but simply running out of juice.

Decepticons made me what I am today. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't even exist. My father, Sixshot, always said that he expected that I'd follow in his footsteps, that he would train me how to use my multiple transformations to their fullest. I never got that chance.  Instead, Quickswitch marches into battle against his creator, his mentor, his family. It stirs up all these emotions in me—is he secretly proud of me? Does he hate me? Can he see how hard I'm trying? Does he even care?

They say I'm so hard to figure out, but I'm really not that complicated.

THE END

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This  Story Written May 2010