Hey wait a minute, in Once upon a Time it was insinuated that the Predacons not only killed a few humans but also the animals from every ecosystem of the wildlife. If the predacons ever did come back to Earth they will get hounded by not only angry humans but by every animal they disturbed during their time on Earth. Heck, we even have the craziest wild animal attack stories showing how the animals on Earth will hold the biggest grudges, not only at the offender but even to their entire bloodline.
Yep. One such animal is the common crow.
Predcons are ruthlessly hunted by crows. Even generations and millennia later, it is a grudge that remains and is passed on, to the point that some researchers are convinced that the corvids MUST be natural predators of predacons because it has gotten ridiculous. Not even the Envoys, hosting the knowledge of generations being passed along through time have that kind of bloodlust.
Picture it, your ship as just landed on this wild planet, you’ve been briefed, even the monster of a beast that you are, on the importance of avoiding the native fauna and flora unless explaicitly known to be relatively safe- even then PLEASE proceed with caution- as well as proper diplomatic procedure to avoid nother galactic war.
It’s ridiculous. You’re a predacon, a great and noble race, Cybertronains can’t help but cower in your presence. You are the old and revived predator of ancient days, your kind are capable of going toe to toe with Primes. What can theses tiny, new-fledged, and imperfect creations do to you? The Neo-humans may have proven their strength, but what does that say for the truly mindless prey that lurks within the shadows?
Turn your helm and look out the window. Meet red optics that do not blink. See a tiny round helm tilt, fin and thin knives of feathers reflect light like a rainbow bending away from an oil spill, as the beak, more like the end of a dark spear, cracks open and releases a low rattling caw.
It sees you looking at it. It taps the glass again.
Wings flutter as it shifts, finely clawed peds lifting only to silently fall as it moves to make room for another. This one doesn’t tap. It just stares. Beak slowly opening and closing, the knives, feathers, ruffle, scattering light as green and purple dance within its void of blackness. Red optics don’t look away. They just watch.
You can see others, pairs of crimson slowly appearing into view. One, two, three, five, six, ten, fifteen…
You ignore the scratches on the glass. You ignore the endless eyes. You ignore the intelligence, the recognition, as those things stare through the transparent flimsy separation. Eyes locked on to your insignia. Eyes with no fear and only cold knowing.
It taps again and croaks out a caw. Taunting.
You don’t grumble about the rules and procedures for the rest of your stay. You stay by a Neo, and you take the offered, and oddly made shield, that blocks out the sun and those crimson glares from your view.
Crows, you learn have long been held as an ill omen.
