Doug's Home On The Web "Now monochrome monitor compatible!"

	The deep blue finish of the robot who stood before them glowed
as if well kept, yet was unable to hide the tiny cracks and dents that
told of his thousands of battles. There was a natural power to the way
he moved, and a confidence to his tone. His inverted wings were
knifelike in their design, with a scarlet Autobot insignia emblazoned
across them.
	"I was wondering when you'd call me." Thundercracker said. He
crossed his arms across his chest and looked at the other two Autobots
as if disappointed.
	>I don't like this.< Prowl said over the inter-autobot radio.
	>He's one of my best warriors. He's under my jurisdiction and

	"Sweet mother of the universe..." Buster muttered under his
breath as he surveyed the grizzly scene. "What the hell are we dealing
with?" Buster had fought Ravage on several occasions, but had always
thought of the big cat as somewhat cowardly and not very powerful.
	The smell and sight of it overwhelmed Daniel, and he vomited
into the nearest corner. The heaves continued for a minute or two after
his stomach was empty.
	"It's Ravage, Buster. As an expert in espionage I can tell you
that he is unequalled in that art. We have it on disk if you'd care to
see it."
	Buster swallowed hard, "I think I'd better" he said. Daniel

	"Buster! Come here. I've found something." Wheeljack's voice
echoed across the huge repair bay as machinery hummed with power and
computer terminals chirped and diligently displayed status reports. 
	"On my way." he said, shutting down his terminal. Ha, he
thought, `Buster'. I'm forty seven years old and they still call me
`Buster'! He smiled inwardly. He walked over to where Wheeljack was
working. The big white robot was on his back, slid under one of the
forty two energon processors in the room. Buster walked in standing up
with plenty of head room. 
	"Look at this..." Weeljack pointed to a residue that had built

by Tim Emert (temert@eis.calstate.edu)

	Ancient history:
	See TRANSFORMERS #1-80. Published by Marvel Comics.

	Recent history:
	Buster Witwicky grew up and became an honorary transformer. He
managed to settle things with his old High School Sweetie, Jesse (not
Carly from the cartoon), and Married.  They had a son named Daniel, born
in 1995.
	Jesse is killed by the Decepticons, (another story) leaving
Buster as a single father.
	2013 Daniel turns eighteen. Buster turns forty-eight. Daniel,
after spending some time on Cybertron, returns to earth, where he is
attacked by a ragtag group of Decepticons. Daniel loses an arm in this

ALLEGIANCE:  Decepticon
SUBGROUP:  Sweep
FUNCTION:  Tracker-Terminator
FIRST APPEARANCE:  Transformers The Movie

"It's better to follow someone else's plan than to invent your own."

PROFILE:  Razorwing is very duty-oriented.  He takes his orders
seriously and does his best to carry them out.  He is very attentive to
the wishes of his superiors, and has a lot of respect for them, especially
for Sweep leader Scourge.  Of all the Decepticons created by Unicron,
Razorwing is one of the few who ever wonders who or what he was
before this transformation.  In fact, he is one of the few that still has a

     Scrounger glowers at me in cold fury, blocking the entrance
to the repair ward.  "You got some nerve coming here, Scrapmetal," he
snarls.  "This is all your doing.  *You* should have taken that blast,
not Cyclonus."
     "If you don't get out of my way," I counter, "I'll forcibly
remove you!"
     He offers me a twisted, humorless grin, lets the sawblade on
his hand whine through a few rotations.  "I'd love to see you try,
Scrapmetal.  Just your luck that I'm needed on the bridge and wouldn't
have the time to carve you up properly."  He steps aside and stalks
angrily away down the corridor.

     It has been five weeks, as time is measured on Charr.  I have
somehow drifted out of the populated sector of the galaxy -- nebula all
around me, heated gases and ions pulsing in green and purple wisps.
Some warmth in here, at least.  Was getting tired of flying through
days of absolute zero, ice eventually forming in all my joints and
shattering soundlessly with each movement.  That doesn't happen in
here.  But it's still cold, like the ice has condensed into a core within
my central circuitry and won't melt.  It's like bad melodrama -- cold,
hungry, lost and alone.
     I'd thought of landing on the nearest inhabited world, of

     The Autobots are all over us.
     Plan was to drag this deep-space refueling station back to
Charr, but those blasted Autobots are once again in our way -- how
dare they?!  Feel it's their responsibility to protect all the insignificant
life of the galaxy, and damn them, they're doing it.  There's just too
many, they've got us pinned.  Laser fire flashing all over, seems like
it's burning into my brain.
     I won't stand for it!  I am Galvatron, imperial ruler of the
Decepticons, and I refuse to retreat!  If I can't have this space station,
no one can.  I turn and fire on the fuel tanks.  Fireballs go up to all

Disclaimer: this is simply my interpretation of the plot danglers left
at the end of Sale of the 24th Century, and how to wrap them up without
preventing the 24th Century of Star Trek from coming to pass (hence, the
Deceps can't go conquering the Alpha Quadrant).  And, of course, if the
Deceps ever brought back Binary Bonding...it could explain the
Borg....}->

Dave Van Domelen, have fun!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sale of the 24th Century Epilogue: by Dave Van Domelen, based on a story
			 by Lizard
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

        "Many have speculated on what cybertron might have become if not
for the war. Some say it could easily have become a galactic trading
port. Orbiting Alpha Centauri (the closest star to earth's sun) it was
bound to be the first contact we made with an alien species. As a matter
of fact, they probably would have responded to our radio signals back in
the nineteen fifties if they had been there to hear them.  The biggest
result of the war though, was that it caused us to be dragged into it.
We didn't make this war, but we had to fight it."
                                       Meggan McTavish