Kaon, Decepticon City-state that was relatively untouched by Unicron's assault, however not by the fall out of that attack. Kaon, and Kolkular fortress, was seen as a gathering point and last bastion of Decepticon power, a Power that was still being fought for five stellar cycles later.
​

Though he showed no emotion a fire raged in his Spark at the time wasting and stupidity of the in-fighting. So many ego subroutines inflated with self-importance, each believing they could step-up and fill the strut-prints of the mech who created the very army they sought to control from nothing more than 'street trash' and pit fighters, slaves. To be able to coerce, guide, control.
​

No. was the answer. To him only one mech could lead the Decepicons, the one who took them and forged them into the Army they were. Cybertron had been theirs, but the Autobots only saw on oppressor replaced by another, so they fought and Cybertron suffered.
​

It still suffered, and he vowed he would do all he could for Cybertron.
​

This was why he was here, walking down the darkened halls of the fortress, his path illuminated by his optic band. Stopping at a door he passed his servo over a panel on the wall to his right, not even bothering to turn his helm to look as he heard the quiet whirring of the panel lifting up, retracting into the wall and an access console shifting forward. Placing his servo to the reactive transluminate of the panel there was soon a low decibel and low volume tone, the click of a lock unlatching and with a creak and groan of metal-on-metal the door before him split open. Striding through the opening he entered the underground bunker that was currently serving as a make-shift medical bay but was in actuality a research and development lab.
​

Weakly, the yellow optic flickered to life, half-exposed cranial circuitry blinking and sparking as a head swung towards the visitor, a rasping vocalizer forced out words.
​

“Ah Sz-Soundwave, y-you've come to visit again. How k-k-kind.”
​

“Pleasantries: False, Information is required Shockwave.”
​

“Isn't it a-alwaysz?” Shockwave rasped, “I shall a-sz-ssume then, that your search for M-Mega-a-a-tron'sz body has yet to yeild-d results?”
​

Soundwave's optic flickered in annoyance, while Shockwave's brightened in amusement at how much a single optic could convey, especially when paired with an equally emotionless and expressionless mouth-guard.

“I shall that that as-z a 'no' then.” Shockwave did his best to keep his cool, logical air about him even as his half-crushed, half-mutilated body was wired into the Spark-support machines.
​

“Assumption: Correct, Megatron's body has not been located.” Soundwave finally spoke.
​

“Then you wish to p-p-proceed-d with your little proje-c-c-ct?” Shockwave's vocalizer hiccuped.
​

“Affirmative. Decepticons: Scattered. Force: Powerless. Leader: Needed. Megatron: Needed.”
​

“You've m-m-made your point Soundwave.”
​

Soundwave moved over to a computer console, inputting a list of commands.

“Tell me Szz-Soundwave... what makes you process this little gambit suc-c-ceeding?”
​

Soundwave turned to look at Shockwave, “Because it will not be just a clone.”

“What do you mean? Of course it will be.” Shockwave coughed, “A blank pro-pro-protoform with m-memory pro-pro-protocols but no Sz-Spark is nothing more than an advanced automaton, a robotic clone.
​

“Solution: Vector Sigma.” Soundwave droned, “Plan: Implant memory protocols before implanting Spark into protoform.”
​

“Even so--”
​

“Megatron's Memory: Intact.”
​

“A-All of it?”
​

“Correct.”
​

“How.”
​

“Megaplex processing core.” Soundwave answered, “Function: Specialized processing core. Purpose: Retention and archiving of Megatron's memory.”
​

“Incredible”
​

Soundwave cocked his helm, “Surprise: Illogical.”

“Wh-- How d-dare you!” Shockwave sputtered.
​

“Purpose: Back-up in case treachery or plot to overthrow succeeded.”
​

“I always did wonder why Megatron kept that screeching harpy around for so long.”
​

“Reason: Unknown. Conjecture: Yours is as good as mine.”
​

“Ah well. As you said, Megatron is needed.” Shockwave groaned
​

Soundwave wordlessly nodded, typing command after command into the computer at a dizzying pace, windows filled with lines of code kept flickering as they were constantly switched around with each other, going from background to foreground to back again. Shockwave watched the near-mute mech work, delving deeper and deeper into the computer's memory drives.

Slowly he realized that Soundwave was designing Megatron's new body. In one window a graphic display was being compiled from the data being input. The skeletal structure was dense, strong. The power systems, heat sinks, all the internal mechanisms were top of the line. Soundwave would make sure that their Lord's new body was worthy of the Spark that would inherit it.
​

The one thing Soundwave was not doing, however, was designing their Lord's new alt-mode. Understandable, as one would not wish to presume their Lord's preferences.

Mega-cycles later Shockwave's optic flickered to life again. In his weakened state he must have powered down to preserve his energy levels.
​

For five stellar cycles he had been like this, grievously injured, spark needing mechanical support. Having an entire building fall on one's self is not good for one's health, and this had been a very large building at that. It was illogical to him to find himself still on-line, still hooked to these machines. Why had he not been put into a CR Chamber?
​

Instead Shockwave endured mega-cycles of repair surgery by a team of Decepticon Medical bots. Why was Soundwave doing this. Shockwave could not see the lock outside of Soundwave needing him for something, it had to be that.
​

What though? Shockwave asked himself, What do I have in my processor that he could want. Shockwave was slowly becoming infuriated at the fact he could not figure Soundwave's motives out. Outside of resurrecting Megatron, of course.
​

If he has access to Megaplex, something even I didn't have, then-- ngh
​

Shockwave's thoughts ground to a halt as a stabbing pain filled his processor, his vision blurred, off-lining. When it returned Soundwave was standing over him.

“You will be moved to a CR Chamber.” he droned, “You are finally stable enough.”
​

Shockwave blacked out again.

= = = =​

It is known by a servofull of Cybertronians that the shinning metallic sphere with its giant gorge and its liquid metal seas of silvery elements that they called home was in fact built around a core of rock and stone run through with tunnels, caves, caverns and recesses that offer amazing insight to their planets past, cosmically speaking, as well as hiding places and homes for those things only whispered about by young-bots, the superstitious, and those bereft of their senses like over-induldgers of Energon, Empties, drug users and old soldiers that over the stellar cycles had to hide there to survive and were lucky enough to make it out.
​

The mech that was now traversing one of these tunnels that was closer to the surface was none of these, though if one asked his fellow Decepticons; they were certain he was indeed unhinged for trying to speak to Spark's long passed. A sentiment only more-so cemented when it was discovered his machines were picking up signals but not that of dead Cybertronian's but old Earth broadcasts.
​

Mindwipe was not amused when he overheard talk that he should be made “ambassador” to the Junkions. He was spurred forward by the discovery his receivers and antenna could actually pick up any signal and had been using the chaos of The Aftermath, a simple name for the devastation of the Chaos Bringer's attack that was gaining popularity, to scavenge and salvage the parts he needed to create a more sensitive antenna. It was much easier to aquire “choice” part, as well as research vital to picking up a Spark's energy signature.
​

This was what he carried in his servo's this solar-cycle, clutching the thick tome to his torso. He could have asked the scribe to make this copy easier to carry as a holo-pad perhaps but he felt it would be cheating somehow.
​

This ancient tome of dark science... no, it is best to have the experience of running your servo-tips over the old, forgotten glyphs, painstakingly carved into the plates of derma-steel harvested from the dying.
​

Setting the tome down onto the make-shift table elicited a groan of protest. Mindwipe pulled a crate to sit on over and eased his bulk down.
​

Running his servos over the cover, taking in the welds that bound the derma-steel plates, double thick, with the forgotten glyphs of Cybertronian history carved neatly into its surface.
​

Simply amazing servo-work Mindwipe ruminated, Now with this, I will be able to speak with Sparks long passed... The mystic put down a container filled with a swirlling mix of life's-oil and Energon, nestled with-in was the brilliant blue-white of a Spark, …but first, a little practice.
​

Taking a clean work towel, he wiped the fluids of the scribe from his servos, then from the tome's large body.
​

With trembling hand he opened the cover, the first page held a symbol; a circle with two 'arms' extending from the top and bottom, around the circle and arms was a ring. The glyph of Unicron.
​

“And so the Angles of Dissolution are drawn, erasing the boundry 'tween the realms of Metal and Spark...”
​

= = = =​

The Hall of Heroes stands as a reminder of Decepticon strength and power. A large open air plaza with a raised platform with a throne under a canopy of sorts, topped with a torch that bears a purple flame. Lining either side of the plaza, facing the throne were large golden statues of warriors past standing upon great stone bases that held a purple-hued flame with-in a golden receptacle. These effigies were erected to honor the fore-runners of the modern Decepticon; the Quintesson pit-fighting and “military applications” slaves as a way for the five-faced aliens to keep them relatively quiet.
​

The Hall's history reaches back beyond the Occupation, back into a time when fact and legend, myth and reality, became so intertwined it becomes nigh-impossible for even the most studious, the most meticulous, and the most fervent to discern between the two.
​

That was another reason the Hall stood, with its proud memorials, to remind all that strength and power kept Cybertron going.
​

All, save for one.
​

Not really even a statue either, no gold encased purple eternal flame, no magnificent base. Nothing but the remainder of a Cybertronian corpse. Gray, crumbled, only the legs from the shins down were left. Done so as a reminder by Galvatron that he was the iron servo that would lead the Decepticons to utterly decimate the Autobots.
​

“Galvatron” a name he learned to curse above all others, a name he learned from those who visited the Hall in hopes that proffering themselves to their ancestors would somehow help them survive the Aftermath.
​

He sneered at them. The ruthless warriors of the Decepticon Army turned into mewling weaklings, many having forgotten their roots as slaves, as second class citizens under the Council of Elders until Megatron organized them. Many never knew anything except the power of Megatron's rule.
​

He sneered at their weakness. The Gods above knew he wished he could do more than sneer, more than insult audio receptors that were deaf to his voice, more than swing wildly at them and becoming infuriated when his servos passed harmlessly through his target's body.
​

He was stuck there, unable to leave the Hall, unable to go very far from the shins-down corpse.
​

His corpse.
​

How Starscream cursed the name and memory of Galvatron.

The former Air Commander had spent, to him, an unknown amount of time. His world was grayed out, a bleak shade of the world he once lived in. It could have been a day, or an eon, and he wouldn't have known.
​

“AHH!” Starscreamed howled into the gray limbo, “I finally get rid of Megatron and then this purple usurper comes from nowhere! To think, the first things out of my vocalizer are asking if it was Megatron! Somehow he survived being dumped into space and reformats his body and.. and.. how...”
​

>>-- HOW CORRECT<<
​

A voice boomed from nowhere yet everywhere. Deep and resonate, monotone but carrying a malevolent lilting, subtle undertone in its mechanical reverberating speech.

Starscream spun around on his ghostly heel, "Who dares..?!" Starscream started to demand. He wisely stopped. The last time he started a sentence with those words he was blasted to here, the gray wasteland that laughably passed as his afterlife. Primus only knew what would happen if he stated them here.
​

>>I DARE<<
​

The voice remained slightly monotone, barely inflecting its words as the very space around Starscream turned a violent, pulsing red. Starscream clutched at his ghostly audio receptors, dropping to his spiritual knees, loosing a primal howl that would echo into the living world as a wordless, chilling breeze that suddenly kicked up around his 'memorial'. A horrible piercing feedback loop suddenly cropped up as his world turned blood red.

In a moment. It passed, the afterlife he had become accustomed to returning to lifeless gray. He coughed, surprised that even as a shade of his former self he wanted to retch the non-existent contents of his power pack onto the ground.
​

Servo clutching at his own throat, optics wide in shock as he peered around into the nothingness, he barely was able to gasp out three small words, “Who... are... you?”

>>I--<<
​

The voice paused for a moment, as if to inhale

>>-- AM UNICRON<<​

 

Oh #%$@^&&%!!! What a great ending. Poor old Screamer, neither here nor there. Blasted Cons...can't stay beaten can they...darn! Good work!

 

I am very happy you both enjoyed this, Anodythe. I have to admit, I was worried it wasn't going to be as good as my others. I was always rooting for the good guys as a kid and could never really put myself into villains shoes. so when I started writing, I found it hard to do a scene that focused on the villains alone without the heroes coming in and surprising them or being in the same scene for banter.

I was also afraid that "using" Unicron and "bringing back" Starscream might get groans.

 

“I-Impossible.” Starscream coughed hoarsely, “Unicron is a myth, a devil created to plague the weak-processored by the Council of Elders, or Ancient, or whatever they felt li-aaah!
​

>>CEASE YOUR PRATTLE STARSCREAM. DO YOU WISH YOUR SPARK TO ROT IN THIS CORRIDOR BETWEEN THE REALM OF LIFE AND DEATH?<<
​

The Decepticon ghost's world filled with that crimson light, the luminous incarnation of PAIN, and as before the light, the pain, and the screeching feed-back that had he a body would have made his audio receptors bleed, were gone as if they were never there.

Coughing, spectral throat raw, his very essence aching. Very slowly he shook his head, “Of--” he rasped, wincing, “-- Of course... n-not.”
​

>>VERY WELL THEN<<
​

Unicron's monotone voice boomed, echoing across the gray wasteland.

>>RAISE YOUR HELM STARSCREAM, LOOK UPWARDS<<
​

Obeying the commanding pressence, he did so, optics scanning the gray skies.

>>THAT LIGHT YOU SEE ABOVE YOU IS NO STAR, NOR IS IT A SPIRITUAL DOPPLEGANGER OF CYBERTRON'S SUN.<<
​

Starscream swallowed, it still hurt, he found himself unable to turn away from the light. It was pale, as was everything here, but it had color, an aura of swirling red and black surrounding a yellow-orange core.
The scientist in him was curious, the coward in him dare not ask what it was.

>>THAT LIGHT IS MY REFLECTION HERE. TRAVEL TO IT STARSCREAM, AND I SHALL GRANT YOU WHAT YOU WISH MOST; REVENGE ON THE ONE WHO DESTROYED YOU.<<
​

Carefully he stood. Starscream had never been one to believe in Primus, or the AllSpark, now though how could he not? He was a ghost, or at least intangible, and now this presence, be it truly Unicron or not, was offering him vengeance. How could he refuse. One problem remained.

“Oh--” Starscream searched his memory bank for a name, a title, anything to stave off the PAIN. He remembered one and cautiously spoke, “-- Great Devourer... you have shown me awesome power, no doubt, and offered revenge, only a fool would refuse that gift, however--”
​

>>HOWEVER?<<
​

Quickly the former Air Commander raised his servos, “I do not question you Might Chaos Bringer, just... why must I travel to that light? Also how? I cannot move very far from my remains, even now after practice. If you can speak to me, projecting your magnificent presence, could you not do the same in granting my vengeance?”

>>FAIR QUESTIONS STARSCREAM. EVENTS AFTER YOUR DEATH HAVE LEFT ME WITH FEW ALTERNATIVES<<
​

“So you need me.”
​

The PAIN returned, more intense than ever. Unicron's anger shook the very foundation of what was left of his being.

>>YOU PRESUME MUCH DECEPTICON!! I DO NOT =NEED= YOU. YOU ARE A TRETCHEROUS AND TRAITOROUS MECHINATION, AND I HAVE NO DOUBT YOU WOULD BETRAY ME THE MOMENT YOU HAD A SLIVER OF A CHANCE. I COME WITH MY OFFER OF VENGEANCE BECAUSE OUR ANGERS ARE DIRECTED AT THE SAME TARGET!<<
​

Even through the PAIN, Starscream's anger flared, “GALVATRON!”
​

The PAIN ended.

>>GALVATRON. I ONCE THOUGHT TO USE HIM AS MY HERALD, BUT EVEN UNDER MY CONTROL HIS PERSONALITY WAS TOO STRONG. LIKE YOU, HIS FIRE BURNED HOT AND DEEP AND HE BETRAYED ME. YOU HOWEVER, STARSCREAM, I KNOW WILL TRY TO BETRAY ME. ONLY A FOOL WOULD THINK OTHERWISE, HENCE MY OFFER OF REVENGE. AN OFFER YOU CANNOT REFUSE.<<
​

“Oh. You're good.” Starscream admitted.
​

>>I WAS WEAVING WEBS OF LIES AND DECIT LONG BEFORE AND WILL LONG AFTER. I WILL LEND YOU A SLIVER OF MY POWER, A FRACTION OF WHAT YOU WILL SOON WEILD. YOU WILL THEN BE STRONG ENOUGH TO BREAK THE BOND TO YOUR CORPSE AND TRAVEL TO MY LIGHT.<<
​

“As you say. I can't refuse.” Starscream grinned, “As you wish, Master.”
​

>>VERY WELL. TAKE THIS POWER, COME TO ME. THIS, I COMMAND!<<
​

The feedback came again, filling Starscream's essence. The PAIN was absent this time, as was the angry red and all consuming aura. In its place was an emerald green light and he could feel the power growing with-in

= = = =​

“Accursed Spark!” The grating voice of the Scribe hissed at him through the speakers of his machine, proving two things to Mindwipe: first was that his machine worked; he could communicate with a disembodied Spark that was placed into it; two, it told him just how much he wanted to continue onto phase two just so he could silence the Scribe.
​

“When your Spark leaves your mortal chassis and passes between that tumultuous energy that is the veil separating this world and the next, with the only proof of life being barely enough carbon powder to springer over a plate of sliced sprockets as seasoning, I will be waiting for you. I will be waiting for you and with all the power I can muster I will drag your essence down, down into the cold, into the pain of The Pit! You think PAIN is fire? That The Pit is flame so hot that your Spark melts like a slagging pool?” the Scribe laughed, “Mortal fears! The Pit is the antithesis of the Allspark. There is naught but fear and pain and coldness in The Pit, naught but those who willingly turned from Primus' optic are said to deserve. I am loyal to the Devourer, doing his work to spread entropy and death in s--”
​

“The only thing you're doing is giving me a rather piercing ache to the processor.” Mindwipe hissed in consternation, “I can feel it at the base of my cranium where it meets my structural support rod.”
​

“A small consolation.” The Scribe snarlingly shot back, “Know that if I am released from here and I am able to return to my frame I will find you and tear -your- Spark from your chassis and keep -you- around in a jar of preserving fuels for amusement!”
​

Mindwipe made a derisive sort of growl under his breath as he jot down something into his datapad journal, “-- a simple switch from plus to minus, and minus to plus. This switching of polarity seems to have overcome my last hurdle. Soon I think, soon I will be able to pierce that bubble between realms and summon forth the Spark of Megatron. My research into the Angles of Disillusion proved not to be a dead end, the collection of dark formulae has become most useful in the adjusting and tweaking of the various antennae arrays. Our built in sensors can scan for energy signatures yes, but Sparks, they are on a completely different frequency that our scanners can only begin to pick up. This is why my previous experiments failed, I was using equipment and antenna better suited for life Sparks. I came close with the Medical Bay's Spark monitor, tweaking it and connecting it with my similarly adjusted hyperspace communications array... which reminds me, I need to remember to set my Space Cube to record “Forever Knight”, the next old broadcast wave should be reaching Cybertron with-in the solar cycle.”
​

Mindwipe stood to do just that, as it was in the fore-front of his processor, not worried about the Scribe or his Spark because of the stasis field around it patterned after the high security internment system found in prisons. Once his recorder was set, he would call his two colleagues and tell them of his advancements, then the three of them would search and scan for Megatron's spark. After securing it, he and his two colleagues then planned to approach Soundwave.
​

No longer would they laugh at him, he would deliver back to the Decepticons their leader and they, the Chaos Trinity, would be rewarded.

= = = =​

Frenzy carefully walked up to Soundwave, who was going over his schematics. The lager transformer reached a hand down to idly rub the head of Ravage as the panther lazily relaxed in his lap.
​

“I have the information you wanted.” said the cassette-bot, not afraid though still not wanting to interrupt if, by some miracle, Soundwave was taking a brief moment to relax.
​

“Thanks: Given.” came the drone as he held out a hand for the data. He stopped, looking at his minion, “Hesitation: Sensed, Frenzy.”
​

“Sorry Soundwave. I, t-that is, we was wonderin' why you're keeping the cycloptic alive, ain't he a rival?”
​

“Correct. Shockwave is a rival, however every Decepticon is needed.” The larger bot explained, “Recall: Shockwave was in charge of Cybertron in our 4 million years stasis lock. Access would be given to files and programs other Decepticons would not.”
​

“So we're usin' 'im.”
​

“Affirmative.”
​

Ravage growled, squirming in Soundwave's lap and bat at his servo before stretching himself out. Calmly, the master interrogator gave his stealth master a 'tummy scritch'.

“Usefulness: Soon at an End.”
​

----
I feel angry at myself that I let almost another month go by in between posting part 1 of this fic and part 2 of this.
Apologies to my readers

 

Nasty Decepticons. Shoo... Wow, the other side of this coin is as good as this first. You've given well-known characters yet another layer of individuality that makes them wholly real and not stereotypes. Really like the interaction between Soundwave and Ravage. Sometimes inspiration likes to wait until the very last moment before popping into the brain.

 

x_X I apologize for getting back so late to you. I thought I posted a reply earlier

I'm Very glad you enjoy it ^^ yes, I thought the interaction between them was cute, in a Bond Villain sort of way hehe.

I hope that you continue to enjoy the story as I continue to write it Anodythe ^_^

 

Ah...real life. Always adds the extra kink when you least expect it! But remember, it does provide us with the lucre that enables us to afford our plastic crack addiction! Don't worry, I'll re-read the beginning. Catch up as it were. And through it all, keep my fingers crossed for the total annihilation of the Decepticon side!
Oops, was that my 'bot voice?

 

lol I think it was. in truth, I'm more of a home body, taking care of my father while my mother works and my brother looks for work. I just don't feel comfortable leaving him by himself, for emergency sake. though real life does like to put its kinks in my days *sighs*

the weather change right now, today (the 12th), has got me down something bad with a headache that makes my head swim x_x

No worries though, I'm planning out Part 3 ^^

 

my apologies for a double post but I wanted to make sure any readers of this fic saw. I AM still working on the fic but my computer recently fell victim to a virus, and barely having it back a week its Bluescreened on me. Life has also kept me a little busy plus I've been having a bit of a creative speed bump. no worries, but I am utterly sorry I've taken so long

 

Here it is. After far too long I have finally gotten Part 3 finished, typed and here for you. Again and always, I apologize for the lag between parts in my fic. some times its just hard to get myself to write if I'm not feeling particularly creative... or even awake.

This part, The Devil You Know - 3, marks a couple of important Endings. First, my mechanical pencil that I had been writing this entire fic from the get-go with finally ran out of usable lead. It was late at night and instead of making noise by searching for lead to refill it when I wasn't sure we had any, I moved to another pencil. somehow, weirdly, it felt right simply retiring this pencil as it wrote on 63-64 of the sheets in the notebook I was keeping my fic in.
That brings us to the second Ending. My notebook. a simple 70 sheet, single subject notebook is also being retired. three lonely little sheets remain in the back, but I felt it was a better idea to start Part 4 in a fresh notebook instead of changing in mid-sentence x_X
67 sheets of that 70 sheet notebook have scribed onto them Another Universe, 134 pages of TF Fanfic-y goodness for you all.

Thank you. I hope you stay with me through another notebook and another. TF: Another Universe is just getting started folks. You ready to keep riding?

= = = =

The Light.
​

That distant beacon of power, that point of clarity that was so indescribably welcome to his ghostly optics after spending so long with that gray landscape surrounding him, it didn't matter if it was pale, washed out by the gray of the limbo he was in. It had color and clarity.

The scientist in him welled to the surface of his being, he couldn't help it. He had been fascinated by the existence of this limbo, however that novelty quickly wore off. Now though, with this energy coursing through him, he couldn't help but recall his studies; equations and writ, theorem and formula. Conversions of energy and matter.
He wanted to study this further.
​

First though was dealing with Unicron, or whatever was the true identity of the voice who spoke to him was. Any being, sufficiently powerful, could induce pain like that, somehow, and say they were Unicron. The offer, such as it was, was too good not to take up: a new body, more power and most importantly revenge.

Then -- the machine ghost hissed, I will get to the bottom of this “Unicron” figment. I do have to congratulate whoever it is, very con--
​

The thought, half-formed, died as quickly in his mind as he did under Galvatron's cannon. Before him floated the source of the orange-yellow aura that was exuding the red-black energy. It was the absolute largest head he had ever seen, biological or mechanical.

“Unicron?”
​

>>YES<<
​

The aura pulsated as the voice spoke again. Starscream looked upon the stark white facial structure beneath the horned helm. In his mind gears began to turn and grind, the beginnings of plans.

>>NOW STARSCREAM, CONTINUE FORWARD. INSIDE ME THE VIEL IS THIN, TO EASIER FACILITATE YOUR RETURN TO THE PHYSICAL WORLD.<<
​

Nodding dumbly, mute from shock, he continued forward. Entering not even with-in Unicron's floating head but just with-in the red-black energy Starscream found himself transported into a large room filled with energy orbs that bubbled, though some were broken and their contents long leaked out. In the center, joined together by some alien webbing, were video monitors, broken and shattered.
​

>>VERY GOOD MY FUTURE SERVANT<<
​

“Servant?” Starscream searched for the source of Unicron's voice, “Great Devourer, since we shared the same goal I thought we could be par—AUGH! YARHGH!!”
​

His voice was reduced to inarticulate electronic screeching and white noise as PAIN coursed through his incorporeal form yet again.

>>SILENCE! YOUR BARGANING POSTURE IS HIGHLY DUBIOUS. REMEMBER WHAT I HAVE SAID: I DO NOT =NEED= YOU. I AM GRANTING YOU THIS SECOND CHANCE BECAUSE I =KNOW= YOU. AS SINGLE-GOALED AS YOU WERE TO USURP THE DECEPTICONS SO TOO WILL YOU, WITH THAT SAME UNYEILDING TENACITY, PERSUE YOUR REVENGE UPON GALVATRON. I WILL GIVE YOU A NEW BODY, AND NEW TROOPS TO COMMAND.<<
​

“And?” Starscream ventured
​

>>AND NOTHING! YOU BELONG TO ME NOW, AS SERVANT AND HERALD AND WILL OBEY ME. YOUR BODY CAN BE RECLAIMED AND AS YOU KNOW I HAVE ABILITIES WHICH CAN AFFECT THE SPARK. I CAN UNMAKE YOU TO SUCH A DEGREE THAT THOSE WHO KNEW YOU BEST IN LIFE WILL RECALL YOU ONLY THROUGH DATA FILES!<<
​

Starscream lay on the floor, twitching in pain, unable to rasp more than an “I believe you”
​

His body jerked, moving not under his own power but Unicron's. Passing into one of the unbroken energy orbs that still bubbled Starscream was nestled into the pod.
As blackness claimed his consciousness , for even Unicron could stand his screams only so much, he did not see the two still functioning robots enter. One, tall and purple, frowned at the newcomer while his companion, winged and a lighter blue, took to a panel of controls by the pod.

>>YOU DISAPPROVE MY MINION?<<
​

Turning to the center of the room towards the monitor cluster, for any direction was as good as the next and spoke, “I would not dare to presume your thoughts Lord Unicron.”

>>YOU WONDER WHY I DO NOT SEND ONE OF YOU TWO AGAINST GALVATRON?<<
​

“Forgive me but yes, I have.”
​

>> BECAUSE YOU, MY WARRIOR, AND YOUR “BROTHER”, MY TRACKER, DID NOT BETRAY ME. YOU RETURNED HERE, TO ME, TO SERVE ME IN MY TIME OF WEAKNESS. STRONG AS YOU ARE, YOU WOULD BE DESTROYED. I ALSO ADMIT TO ENJOYING THE IRONY OF THOSE TWO UNIQUE SPARKS KILLING EACH OTHER AGAIN AND AGAIN. IF ONE OR THE OTHER IS ELIMINATED, ALL THE BETTER, AND IF SOMEHOW THEY BOTH ARE ELIMINATED...<<
​

The Warrior nodded, “You are less two traitors and nuisances.”

>>PRECISLY MY WARRIOR.<<
​

“My Lord.” The Tracker bowed, “Preparations to the pod are complete.”
​

>>VERY GOOD SCOURGE. BEGIN THE REBIRTHING SEQUENCE<<
​

Scourge bowed, “At once My Lord.” The Tracker turned back to the pod with Starscream and started to tap commands.

Cyclonus rubbed his chin as he watched lights begin to glow, denoting power bring infused into the chamber.
​

>>CYCLONUS, I WANT YOU TO BEGIN PREPRATATIONS FOR THREE MORE PODS.<<
​

The Warrior nodded, “As you command Lord Unicron.” he paused for a moment, “Master?”

>>SPEAK CYCLONUS<<
​

“These pods are for his troops?” Cyclonus asked, “You are building them from nothing?”
​

>>IN A MANNER OF SPEAKING.<<
​

Unicron seemed to pause.

>>I HAVE PROCURED THREE RECENTLY DECEASED SPARKS. HOWEVER, UNLIKE WITH YOU, SCOURGE AND GALVATRON I DO NOT HAVE PHYSICAL MATERIAL TO METAMORPHOS. I MUST BEGIN FROM THE BEGINNING.<<
​

“I understand My Lord. Thank you for indulging my curiosity.” Cyclonus moved to a second panel to prepare another energy pod.
​

>>PREPARE FOR THE NEXT SPARK CYCLONUS.<<
​

Then, as Cyclonus watched, the pulsing blue orb that was literally the heart and soul of a Cybertronian floated past and nestled into the pod. Turning his optics to a small monitor he adjusted a knob to a finer setting. Once the Spark was set and the energy feed was at a steady flow the Warrior moved to the adjacent pod and repeated his steps, readying the second pod. Done with Starscream's pod Scourge readied the third pod as Cyclonus worked the second. Prepared now, the two final pods received their payloads, the glowing orbs that pulsated with life and memory were suspended in the fluid filled chambers.

>>NOW. AS THEY BEGIN THE REBIRTHING PROCESS I COMMAND YOU, CYCLONUS, TO DECEND TO CYBERTRON'S SURFACE. I HAVE FELT A DISTURBANCE WITH-IN THE ENERGY SEPERATING THE MATERIAL PLANE AND ITS OPPOSITE. SOMEONE IS POKING ABOUT AND I AM CURIOUS.<<
​

Cyclonus nodded curtly and transformed, igniting his thrusters and speeding out of his master's giant, shattered optics.
​

Scourge did another check on the four pods, making adjustments. He paused, looking at Starscream's ghostly form. Stroking his beard the Tracker curled his derma-steel plates into a cruel sneer at his former Air Commander. He well remembered his former lives, merged of Seeker and Insecticon to have skilled air combat along with the ability to be his own squadron. In a way, he was Air Commander now and so much more.

A better commander than you ever were. Scourge thought to himself, A “scientist” you called yourself and always more interested in taking control of the Decepticons. He stroked his beard again, I always wondered what made you think that you could do it.
​

>>SCOURGE, GO TO THE LEVEL BELOW THIS. WITH-IN THAT FLOOR'S CENTRAL CHAMBER IS A SUMMONING ARRAY. PREPARE IT, FOR I WISH YOU AND CYCLONUS TO BE READY IF, RATHER I SHOULD SAY WHEN HE MOVES TO BETRAY ME.<<
​

Nodding Scourge obeyed, leaving the chamber as his master ordered.

​

= = = =​

It was truly a short thruster jump from Unicron's disembodied head to the surface of Cybertron and made all the quicker with a pair of powerful thrusters. The tricky part was not being discovered by sensor or patrol, and riding with-in a small debris “storm” would make Cyclonus appear as a rather large chunk that would mysteriously disappear, but if he did not make frequent use of this maneuver it could be used just that much longer before found out.

Seeing his target up-coming Cyclonus broke away from the debris once he was under the sensor umbrella. He streaked along the cold, thin, star speckled atmosphere of his once home. Internally he mused about how quickly things had changed. Offline by all rights, he and his comrades and leader tossed out by that usurper. Left to float in the forgotten expanses of space with nothing but anger and fear as company until their fuel and energy finally exhausted and their chassis released their Sparks.

It was not to be. No, they were saved by Unicron. Revived and Reformatted. No longer Decepticon even if they still wore the badge, if only to deceive their former teammates, and no longer Cybertronians. He mused further that it also meant they had forsaken their Creator; for it Unicron, one of the Dark Ones was real, would it not also mean that in universal balance that the stories of Primus the Sleeper, one of the Lords of Light and creator of Cybertronians was real as well?
What bothered him most of all was the fact that he had no choice in the matter. His damnation was penned not by his own servo but by Megatron's.

The Dragon. The Slag-Maker. So great and powerful by your own deed and word. Cyclonus spoke to himself as he reverted to his robot mode. Yet in the end, instead of dying strong and defiant in the face of a God... you condemned us all.
​

The Warrior entered the gaping crag before him, a tunnel to the Beneath, the organic tunnels of Cybertron. Still, we followed you. We understood what you did not though: We belong to Unicron. Scourge and I accepted this. His next thought made him laugh to himself, You tried to betray Unicron as Galvatron as Starscream tried to betray you in your life as Megatron. The irony was just too delicious. I accepted the fate you wrote for me Might Megatron, I followed you as you sought your vengeance Great Galvatron but I did the one thing you did not. I survived.

Silently as he could, Cyclonus trod down the ancient organic tunnel. Now that he was closer to it the Chaos-touched body of his could feel the ripples, vibrating down to his dark, tainted core. Red optics glowed like embers as he used those ripples to guide him further into the labyrinth.

Cyclonus was not surprised to find a make-shift shelter; one well-stocked with the cobbled-together sensors and computers, that did surprise him. Sparking, flashing and hissing, humming quietly as they ran their paces while their owner was gone on whatever errand they were attending too. Crates turned over, used both to carry equipment as well as... furniture would be being generous in description. Beeps and boops, weird sounding feed back issued through speakers. Energy arced from one antenna to another. Lights, barely doing their job, casting shadows so dark one might think they were stains of fuel splashed and spilled from grisly goings-on. The Warrior blinked, in fact there -was- a large puddle of fuel or perhaps it was Energon, their life's-fluid, seeped into the dust of the earthen cavern. Breath held out of tension more than need, he trod over to a container filled with oil and fuel, he peered into it as he bent over to get at optic level.

“A Spark!” He couldn't help but release the held breath in a gasp. The Warrior took a step back when the bare spark -spoke-
​

“Who... Who is there?!” It demanded, “I can feel the Touch of Chaos upon you. Speak!”

“You have no idea how right you are Spark.” Cyclonus spoke.

“Are you as I? A mortal who follows the Devourer. No... the Touch is too strong.” The Spark hissed

“You are delirious.” spat the Warrior

“You would be too if you listened to that lunatic for mega-cycles.” Again it hissed, “Free me from my prison, let me join our Master! Tell me, he sent you did he not? To free me, to seek my revenge upon that lunatic? That is why the Touch is so strong with you, you are no mere mortal cultist.”
​

Cyclonus flickered his optics, “Touch?”

“You have The Touch.” The Spark exclaimed, “Yes”, it continued, “You have The Power.” the Spark pulsed as it spoke via the speakers it was hooked to, “The Touch of Chaos, an energy aura that links you to our master. I am, or was, a Scribe. I wrote down and kept the ancient dictations. I gave my Spark to the Master and was Touched.”

“I see now.” Cyclonus spoke evenly, “I am Cyclonus, the Warrior. My shell was reformatted by Lord Unicron himself and with that new body I was renamed by his word as well.”
​

A gasp from the Spark, “Blessed you are indeed Warrior. Again I beg you, free me from this prison. Let me join our Master in hopes he might grant my revenge to the one who did this to me.”

“Whom was it?”

“The “mystic” known as Mindwipe.” The Spark cursed.

“He, then, is the reason for what Unicron felt?” Cyclonus asked, poking a servo to the machine he was in front of.

“Mindwipe seeks to speak with Sparks long since passed from this world and sought to combine the mystic with his science where science alone failed.” The Scribe growled in anger, “He decided to use me. Me! A true follower used as a fuel sacrifice for that imposter's ritual, to empower his copy of the master's ancient dictations. Insult to injury he keeps me in this jar, suspended between and used as a stepping stone to speak with recently passed Sparks.”
​

A wry grin passed over Cyclonus' derma-steel plates, “Insult to Injury indeed.”

“Yes. More so the fool actually succeeded in contacting a Spark. A powerful Spark, but the twist that surprised him was the Spark was only -thought- to be dead. He gathered his copy of the Angles of Dissolution, and notes and left in haste to gather his compatriots to report his findings to Soundwave.
​

A wave of white noise reverberated through his processor, causing Cyclonus to cover an audio receptor out of habit. No words were spoken yet the Warrior understood with a crisp clarity.

The Scribe felt something, it tingled at the edges of his Spark, “What-- ... Was that our Master? Did the Great Chaos Bringer speak?”

“He did.” Cyclonus nodded, “Your story interests him. I am to take you to him, and report my findings.” The Warrior unhooked the fuel filled canister that held the Spark. Turning his helm to scan the hide-away for any last clues or information, he tucked the can under his arm and left.

​

= = = =​

Scourge passed his servo over a plate on the wall causing clouded amber lights to glow, illuminating the central room that Unicron commanded him to ready.

A large room, its walls decorated with reliefs of figures silently acting out scenes of ceremony and ritual from long ago darker times. In the center was a raised pit, into this, via a multitude of carved channels, would flow the molten slag that was created by Unicron's internal machines from the objects that were consumed by the Chaos Lord. Without a word Scourge lit torches that were crystal orbs atop of metal rods.

Gurgling and schlorping the melted slag began to flow. Thankfully there was some left, the melting pits were destroyed with Unicron's body, so all that was left was the slag already piped into holding chambers. The problem there was the slag had cooled, solidified, and energy had to be spent to melt it again, and with that they had to be careful so their existence was not detected.

He watched as it flowed now, slowly but it flowed. The molten fluid was quite the sight; red-, orange-, yellow- and white-hot. Thick and slow, but steady in its onward movement.
​

The Tracker couldn't help but be curious.
Aside from the obvious, why prepare the ritual chamber? If a sacrifice was required why not just use Starscream's Spark.

A jolt of fear ran through his central support column.
Us? Scourge ventured the thought, Would he? We have been so loyal. Grabbing his cranial unit he did his best to erase the errant thoughts from his processor lest it anger Unicron.
No punishment came. No PAIN searing through processor and chassis. Nothing but the rolling, bubbling slag filling the pool at the center of the chamber.
​

>>SCOURGE<<
​

The Tracker leaped in surprise, his chaos-twisted Spark almost bursting through his chest plate.

“Y-Yes?”
​

>>THIS RITUAL WILL BE USED TO SUMMON TROOPS FOR YOU AND CYCLONUS. I WOULD HAVE YOU GO TO CYBERTRON'S SURFACE AND COLLECT THREE SACRIFICES. MAKE SURE YOU ARE UNDETECTED IN THIS, ALSO MAKE CERTAIN THEY WILL NOT BE MISSED. NO ONE OF NOTE, NO ONE WHO WILL BE CHECKED ON. WE ARE SENDING NO MESSAGE WITH THIS.<<
​

“I understand, and will obey.”
​

>>VERY GOOD MY SERVANT. NOW GO, FOR CYCLONUS RETURNS.<<
​

“Yes my Lord Unicron.” The Tracker bowed and transformed, firing his engines and swooping from the room.
As he streaked down towards the planet two of his Sweeps appeared, flanking him. His orders were, at the most basic, simple. The tricky part was making sure they wouldn't be missed.
That meant Neutral, even then he had to choose carefully. Even three missing Neutrals could raise alarms,for too late, but he didn't want to risk witnesses giving some smart-vocal actuator the idea to go snooping about his master's remains.
So he relayed his commands to the Sweeps.
​

Target a poorer, rougher sub-district where a higher concentration of destitute Neutrals would be. If no suitable targets could be acquired there, they would move to snatching Empties.

They lacked fuel, not Sparks, and Sparks, life force, was Unicron's aim.
​

Streaking through the thin atmosphere Scourge and his Sweeps turned their sensors ground-ward, searching and tracking for their prey.
​

Primus help those poor Sparks.
​

 

First reply is lost in the ether...
Cruel, mean and nasty. I really love how arch-villians think they are the font of creation but have to use material that has already been produced. Unicron is no "creator" even of chaos, as he cannot create something from nothing. He's just a very powerful fool. I truely pity those who follow him. They do have choices, many of them, but they may not want to suffer the consequences some of those choices bring.
Nice work...well done. and a bowl of kibble to Ravage.

 

thanks ^_^
this was my longest hand written chapter too. I can't wait to reveal the sparks, and what the Scribe has to say. will Mindwipe need to watch his back now? who knows... >> probably me, I should know, shouldn't I XD

also, Ravage thanks you for the kibble :3

EDIT: Hey! good news, the email notification has the post you lost!

Cruel, mean and nasty. Unicron thinks he is creating, but he still must use what is already there, not something he himself made from nothing.
I've always believed that everyone has a choice, no matter how far down the road of perdition they are. It is not that they lack choices, but they lack the desire to suffer the consequences of some of those choices.
Nice work!


I'm glad that people are enjoying this ^_^ and have stuck with me during this lag.

 

My computer is down... again. the only way to make it work again is to redo the OS (again might I add with a prolonged sigh >>; )
however, the story files of what has already been posted ARE safe, so yay on that. I moved them to my external that I cleaned up so I wouldn't have a heart failure everytime my computer hiccuped x_X
I figured I'd give you all a heads up to know that I'm happy, alive and that the story isn't dead, I'm just a procrastinator. As a friend said though, procrastination breeds inspiration so... maybe I'm doing the "artist" thing right lol



I also wanted to give a heads up on whats up-coming and coming up in TF:AU

• The Devil You Know - I had originally meant this to be the longest fic I've written to date, aiming at 8 parts/chapters considering how I like to break my stories into smaller, easier to read chunks. Seeing how things are turning out now... I can beleive I actually WILL be hitting 8, possibly 6... If I go over 8 even -I'm- gonna be surprised.
  TDYK was written to progress the plot of my series, to show that the Decepticons are still around and aren't taking the attack or the Autobots getting back in power laying down. I was really ambisious wanting to do such a long fic but I seem to be doing alright.

• AFTER The Devil You Know - After I finish this monster, I want to do a lighter fic to take a break from all the darkness and gloom and webs being spun. What is probably going to happen is a fic I'm right now calling "Training Daze" which is a day-in-the-life fic of the Wyrd-al crew/recruits from the point of view of the last recruit. That's right. At the time I wrote the frist two fics I had yet to name and give alt modes to all of them. In Total: Striker, Calibur, Doodlebug, Tune-up, Gizmo, Deckstar, and lastly "Doozer" who turns into a skid-steer loader.

• The Future - Oh... what do I have in store for you.
  • "Sister's Keeper" - An Arcee-centric story, introducing another original character whom I thought up to give validity to Raptrap's line "great aunt arcee". I've grown to love this original character, and hope you don't mind I pulled a "give a show-character a sibling" gambit, she's far from a Mary-sue type, no worries.
  • "Leave" - My little band of misfits return to Cybertron for some shore leave. Striker gets a message from Gylph, he's been following a study of hers, and she invites him to a lecture. Calibur decides its a great excuse to get in some shore leave and so the rest of the crew tags along.
  • "Cannonball's Run" - I am a dork, worse yet, a dork with a rather ecclectic collection of music and love of movies. This fic began because I was listening to the theme of the race movie "cannonball run" that started Burt Reynolds and Dom DeLuise... then my imagination got sparked. TF has a Cannonball, a piriate, so why not have a TF-based road race because Cannonball kidnapped someone... and oh! Cannonball is homage to a fave movie of mine, The Princess Bride, why not add some of that too the mix. >>; yeah. look forward to this one folks, as Inygo Montoya said "Humiliations Galore~"
  • "Lightspeed Rescue Force" - This one I blame on my love of giant robots (gee, a TF fan who likes giant robots >>;; no duh), super sentai (power rangers) and 80s cartoons in general. This time, the Wyrd-al crew head to Japan for a science expo run by the son (or daughter, not sure) of an old friend of the autobots to see what technologies have come from the human-autobot alliance. The title is an homage to the Power Ranger season "Lightspeed Rescure" and the mail away TFs "Rescue Force"
  So, thats what I have in store for you right now. I actually DID plan ahead so I always have at least one or two stories banked and ready to go.
  As you can see I have FIVE stories in my creative Buffer and I might actually have forgotten 1, I'll have to check my notes.

• Even More Future - Don't think I'm sticking to G1 either. I plan on taking this to the Beast Wars too. I loved that series and I just couldn't see doing a G1 fic without taking my peeps into BW and into BM.

That's all I can think of at this time. Just wanted to say Hey to all my readers and show my thanks for your support!!

 

Dang,but you're busy yung'un! Makes me wonder if I should really try to get my story out...sometime. Looking forward to more adventures with the "Band of Misfits"!

 

thanks ^_^
I'm really enjoying writing this fic... around the computer problems, sinus headaches and writers humps (smaller version of block, like getting a head cold (humps) versus the flu (block) ^^ aren't I creative~)

The one problem I'm having is naming a baddie. it ties into "Leave" and why Striker's been following Glyph's study of something. he's a bit of a bookworm see and has a think for Cybertron's version of the King Arthur myth

 

"Steve, Peave, Beav, Heave, Weave"?...sorry couldn't resist. Is it a bad thing to laugh at ones own bad jokes?
Merry Christmas!

 

hrm. thought I replied to this XD

I hope you had a happy holiday Anodythe, as well as my other readers here.

and no, I laugh at my own jokes all the time... I'm also laughing at the groans they produce from family and friends :3 I am known to them as "Pun Ninja". Like the silent death that is the ninja, my bad jokes strike without warning, even if the victim can see them coming, it is inevitable!

 

The jokes that can't be avoided...love 'em.

 

hehehe

 

sorry for the double post

but I have to announce that my computer got hit by a virus again. reinstalling the OS to wipe it away only revealed to me that somehow, an apparently critical file was lost, so I can't use my OS disk to reinstall the OS

I can and will continue to write it out in my note book, but as this computer is my mother's and has no Word or anything on it (I will not use WordPad, I need my spellcheck) I will have to wait to write it.

thankfully my external has the fic files, so they are safe. The problem is that I don't think my mom would appriciate my downloading openoffice.org to write. as it is, whenever something goes wonky on her computer she usually blames it on the last thing downloaded not by her. so, in the past she has blame AIM for causing trouble.
Not wanting to upset her, I find myself without a typing outlet.

TF:AU will continue, and I thank you all for your support these past months but until I get it fixed, or get a new computer (Mac this time thanks) I will have to say guh.. *shiver* on hold, or worse yet, Hiatus x_x