Awesome chapter. Guess the Autobots can't win 'em all, huh? Great introduction of Predaking!!! I also like how Springer pretty much introduced the Autobots to the triple-changing technology.

 

I'd just like to say that I love this story. It's been my favorite fanfic series to read ever since I stumbled across it at Lexicon months ago. Keep up the good work!  

 

I second that. We demand more.
 

 

Episode 23: Whispers of the Future



"Any fatalities?"

Prime shook his head at the voice coming through the small communications consul located in his private quarters. "Thankfully no, Magnus."

"Well that's one positive thing that can be said about yesterday." The Autobot Sub-Commander's attempts at cheerfulness failed, as Prime seemed all the more worried.

"You should have seen him. It's nearly inconceivable that a gestalt could move like that. He went through Superion and Defensor like they weren't even there, and even Omega Supreme was only effective when this thing was distracted." Prime, who was leaning with both arms on the consul, looked down and continued shaking his head. "This one warrior is more effective than entire platoons of Decepticons. We may be in trouble."

"It might have something to do with the bio-mechanical traits that the Predacons have. Maybe the Dinobots would be willing to undergo the combiner process? With their pain thresholds, the procedure would probably just tickle them."

Prime once again shook his head in dejection. "They're definitely willing, but Ratchet claims that their physiology is so different that he wouldn't know where to begin."

"Well...” Magnus's voice indicated that he was still attempting to lighten Prime's mood "...there's always prayer."

Prime responded without looking up. "What are you talking about, Magnus?"

"A few dozen Autobots decided that they would seek out some spiritual guidance and visit the Great Temple of Primus."

"I'm surprised Shockwave left it standing."

"A demolitions job of that magnitude would require a fair amount of energon, which was dwindling quickly when Shockwave finally got his hand on Iacon way back when. Anyway, most of the Autobots that visited the Temple did so just to reacquaint themselves with religion. But the more curious visitors figured that without the Elders there to wag their fingers, they were free to explore the lower reaches of the Temple and see what the Elders had been hiding there since the dawn of time."

"Please tell me that you found a half dozen Guardians we could reprogram down there."

"Sorry boss, no such luck. But we did find some old data tracks, holo-statues, a few carvings and various other knick-knacks. I figure it might boost the morale of some of your troops to have some of these things to check out. And besides, Ratchet's one of the few guys I know that can read ancient Cybertronian. It would be nice to know what some of the carvings mean."

Still deep in his thoughts regarding the enormous threat that the new Decepticon gestalt posed, Prime responded. "Good thinking Magnus. The soldiers could definitely use something to take their minds off of the beating that we took."

"I'll see that all the data is downloaded, and that any physical artifacts are scanned into a holo-file and sent to you as well."


***


"No one is to see the prisoner except Shockwave or the Insecticon!" The massive gray Decepticon growled at the newcomer requesting admittance.

"Look, Crowbar, right?" The gray guard nodded "He won't be permanently damaged. Heck, I won't even leave a mark on him." Counter-Punch replied assertively, without being demanding. "Shockwave will never know I was with the prisoner."

"That's because you won't BE with the prisoner." The guard remained adamant, crossing his arms as he stood before the doorway barricaded by a series of energy bars.

Counter-Punch lost his composure. "Look, I lost a lot of good friends in the Cooler, and I just lost another batch during the fall of Iacon, not to mention taking a licking myself! I want, no, need to beat some Autobot shell right slaggin' now!"

The guard to the interrogation wing of Darkmount's most well kept stockade lost his animosity, but maintained his position. "I'm sorry about your friends, but I have my orders." He watched as Counter-Punch dejectedly turned away. "Not that it matters, but how were you planning on beating this guy without leaving any damage on his frame?"

Counter-Punch turned back to the guard and quickly tried to think up an adequate response. "Shockwave sent me to some strange mystic at the Temple of the Ultimate Warrior for training a few vorns before I took my big sleep. The guy creeped me out, but he knew his stuff, and I came away from there with a few new tricks."

Counter-Punch smiled inwardly as the guard nodded in recognition. It was a reference to an obscure warrior-monk known to very few Decepticons, but apparently this guard was familiar with the urban myth. "Yeah, I've heard of that guy. I never really bought into that mystical crap, but I've got a buddy who was there and said he saw stuff that was just flat-out impossible."

Counter-Punch pressed his opening. "Yeah, I never was able to pick up the vast majority of what they were trying to teach me, nor was anyone else who arrived there with me. But I did pick up how to overload nerve sensors with the slightest touch. The victim goes through agony, but the frame remains unscratched and un-dented."

The guard was intrigued by what Counter-Punch was claiming. "You can really do this?"

"Yup."

The imposingly built guard mulled the possibility over in his head. Like most Decepticons, he felt only disdain and annoyance for the vast majority of Autobots. But he felt a special degree of contempt for this particular prisoner due to the special treatment that he was unappreciatively receiving from Shockwave. His cell was furnished with a variety of comforts that most Decepticons lacked, and outside of the interrogations with Bombshell, this prisoner was practically pampered. If there was a chance that a beating could be delivered without repercussions from Shockwave, then Crowbar was all for it. "If so much as a chip of paint comes off of him, I'll tear out your spinal column and use it to clean out my exhaust pipes. You get me?"

Counter-Punch smiled. "In painfully vivid detail." The blue Decepticon looked at the control panel to the side of the entranceway. "What kind of surveillance is being used in the cell?"

Crowbar smiled. "None. Shockwave is giving this guy the V.I.P. treatment. I just need to walk by and make sure he isn't up to anything once every two hours." The smile curled into a frown. "Apparently this is one pretty smart Autobot, and the Sub-Commander is trying to entice him into switching sides or something."

Counter-Punch nodded. "You know, there's nothing I like better than beating the innards out of a well-educated Autobot." The spy slyly smiled as he noted the cross expression coming over the face of the gray guard. "That is, of course, without leaving a mark on him."

"Of course." The guard gave his blue colleague a stern glare to let him know that he was serious about his earlier threat, before punching in an eight-digit access code to deactivate the energy bars. "You have three minutes."

Counter-Punch nodded and walked into the hallway, past four empty cells on either side before finally stopping and turning toward the door of the fifth cell on the left wall. The Decepticon peered through a window on the door and saw the Autobot laid out on a metal slab, staring at the ceiling. The blue robot pushed the door open and walked in.

"Cease your current endeavor. I refuse to accept any unsolicited item, honor or privilege that Shockwave wishes to bestow upon me." The predominantly red Autobot did not bother to give any acknowledgement to his guest other than his rejection of the assumed gift.

"Oh, I've got something for you, but it ain't no honor or privilege. On your feet, you talking CPU!"

Perceptor looked amusedly at the blue Decepticon, but casually complied. "What manner of interrogation is this?" The prisoner laughed gently at his would be inquisitor.

Counter-Punch walked to the door and peered out through the window. Verifying that the guard was not near, he quickly jerked his head back toward his unknowing comrade and whispered. "Cry out in pain."

Perceptor became even more amused, though slightly confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"Just do it!" The command was hushed, but firm.

"I most certainly will not."

Counter-Punch sent one more quick glance out the window before taking a step toward the middle of the room. A series of quick shifts and turns transpired, and within a couple of seconds a yellow Autobot had replaced the blue Decepticon. Punch took a step toward the stunned Perceptor. "Now, scream."

Perceptor stared in shock and horror at the robot before him, fixated on the Autobrands that adorned the yellow frame. A few seconds passed before he regained his composure, and seeing no harm in it, he let out a pained cry. "Aaarrrrgggghhhhh!"

Punch quickly transformed back to his alter ego, walked up to Perceptor, gripped him by the shoulders, and slammed him into the wall. "SHUT UP!" Counter-Punch leaned in close to the side of the prisoner's head and whispered. "What can I do to get you out of here?"

Still extremely confused, Perceptor merely stared in the face of the robot. "Is this a ruse? Shockwave must be cognizant of the fact that I will not be taken in by such a ploy."

Counter-Punch slammed the Autobot against the wall again. A loud voice from down the hall traveled into the cell. "Hey, take it easy in there!"

Counter-Punch twisted his head and replied. "Don't worry, he's still pristine." The blue Decepticon turned back to Perceptor and whispered. "Scream."

The Autobot pursed his metal lips in frustration, but acquiesced. "Uuuggghhhhnnnn!"

Counter-Punch brought his face back to Perceptor's audio received on the left side of his head and whispered again. "Look, I don't have much time. I'm not asking you to reveal any Autobot secrets; I just want to figure out a way to get you out of this situation. So help me out here." Counter-Punch pulled away and looked into Perceptor's optics with as much sincerity as he could muster.

Perceptor analyzed the possibilities and determined that there would be no harm to the Autobots and no benefit to the Decepticons for him to discuss an escape attempt with this robot, whatever his true affiliation. "I have not been able to formulate a plan of escape, even one involving the assistance of collaborator. I am sorry." Perceptor saw the other robot's optics dim in disappointment, but did not realize exactly how upset his possible comrade really was by the answer.

Counter-Punch looked down, shook his head, and quietly gave an order. "Scream." As Perceptor cried out in feigned anguish, the spy contemplated ways to do what at first seemed unimaginable, but what was becoming apparently necessary. Perceptor, and the knowledge he possessed, would provide an enormous asset to the army that held him. There was no way that Punch could allow that knowledge to remain in Decepticon hands. He raised his head, and looked over every detail of Perceptor's frame as he did so, analyzing every possible way to kill his comrade. His machinations stopped as his optics met the brightening optics of his would-be victim.

"Perhaps...” Perceptor let out a hesitant smile. "Yes, that course of action might just achieve the desired outcome." Counter-Punch leaned in to listen to the suggestion of the prisoner who remained ignorant of his pending extermination. "You see, at the time of my apprehension I was in the development of a new propulsion engine that would not only allow the instantaneous traversal of unimaginable distances through space, but theoretically, could enable the breaching of, and re-entry at, differing points of linear chronology." Noting the confused look on his interrogator's face, Perceptor spat out a simpler description. "Time travel. It would allow a ship to travel distances as far and more accurately than the worm-hole generator, and it theoretically should be able to travel through time as well."

Counter-Punch's optic grew wide in terror at the implications of this work. "How exactly is this information going to help get you out of here?"

Perceptor smiled. "I'm getting to that. I have only just initiated my research on this Transwarp engine, which is what I have christened it, barely have the initial theories worked out mind you, and my collection of pertinent data is minimal. But a great deal of data acquired during my development of the worm-hole generator is applicable for this current endeavor, I just have not had the opportunity to retrieve it from one of my old laboratories."

"I'm still not seeing your point."

"Perhaps if you were diminish the level of your vociferousness, I might be permitted to accomplish the imparting of this knowledge to you. As I was saying, some relatable data still remains in one of my laboratories, a fact which I lamentably revealed to Bombshell while under the influence of one of his mind-control contrivances. It is my belief that at some point he intends to have me lead him, while under control of one of his cranial probes, to this laboratory to retrieve the pertinent data."

Counter-Punch's optics lit up hopefully at the realization of what Perceptor was telling him. "Alright, first of all, scream." The blue Decepticon ceased giving his orders long enough to allow a shrill cry of agony to escape the lips of Perceptor. "Good. Now, I need to know the location of this lab, when you think he'll be taking you there, how significant of an escort you'll have, and if possible, some way to deactivate, counteract or somehow disrupt that bug's mind-control probe." Counter-Punch watched as Perceptor's optics glazed over in deep thought. "Quickly!"

Perceptor shook his head and replied as best he could to the request for information. "The laboratory in question is a small, subterranean facility located thirty seven point four miles and seventy three degrees to the southern-most point of Keliocon. After the Decepticon conquest of Iacon, I managed to relocate the preponderance of my research to this location. As for when we will initiate our trek or what other Decepticons will accompany us, I cannot say for sure. But I do believe that Shockwave wishes the procurement of this data as quickly as possible so that work may begin on this Transwarp engine." Perceptor shrugged as he delivered that last bit of news, but smiled lightly as he continued his response. "As for the disruption of the cranial probe, I do believe that a surge of electricity exceeding fifteen hundred volts delivered to my cranium should deactivate the device without causing too great of a detrimental effect on me. Theoretically, I should be momentarily disorientated and physically incapacitated, but a full and quick recovery should ensue."

Counter-Punch nodded and gently slapped the prisoner on the shoulder. "Great, that gives me something to work with. How about one last scream for old time's sake?" The Decepticon stood by as Perceptor let out one last pained cry. "Nice. Now lay down and hug your knees for at least ten minutes." The blue Decepticon started to turn but stopped halfway and turned back toward Perceptor, a saddened demeanor coming over him. "We never met before, but I do know about you and about your contributions to the Autobot cause. You have my thanks, and my respect. And because I respect you, I’m not going to lie to you. If you are unable to escape, I will have to...ensure that certain ideas are no longer accessible to the Decepticons. I…I'm sorry."

Perceptor nodded. "I understand; it must be done. And, might I suggest finding a way to do what is necessary without implicating yourself? I can't imagine you not being an incredible asset to Prime."

"I'll figure something out, I always do." With that Counter-Punch headed to the door, and called out in a loud, threatening voice. "Not a word, Autobot, or the next session will make this one look like a gentle massaging of the joints!"

The energy bars dissipated as the blue Decepticon approached the exit. "Sounded like you worked out some of your frustration."

Counter-Punch nodded to the bulky gray guard. "Yeah, that little interaction made for quite the release."

"Yeah, well, you're sure you didn't leave any marks on him?"

"Not so much as a smudge." Counter-Punch passed the guard as he made his way into the hall.

"You'll have to teach me how to do some of that stuff some day." Crowbar called out to the leaving Decepticon.

Without looking back, Counter-Punch responded. "Sure thing. Some day." The spy looked up to see that there were two other Decepticons approaching the stockade. He instantly recognized one of them to be a weapons designer by the name of Killjoy. He had intentionally become friends with the designer shortly before he had been placed in the Cooler eons before to obtain information on upcoming Decepticon weaponry. "Well, well, look who's decided to come out of hiding. I thought Shockwave had all you tech-boys cloistered up in the Martial Design and Fabrication sector of Polyhex."

The boxy olive green designer smiled at his old friend. "He does, but he's instructed me and Callous here to meet one of the Insecticons down in this branch of the Inferno and then to escort him, a few guards and a prisoner to some lab. Apparently there's some important stuff in this lab that ol' Shocky wants us to examine and bring back."

Counter-Punch subdued the rising anxiety over the possibility that he would not have any time to contact Magnus to arrange a rescue attempt for Perceptor. As calmly as he could muster, he made an inquiry. "You guys are doing this now?"

Killjoy shrugged. "As soon as Bombshell shows up. But Shockwave said he'd probably be another ten, fifteen minutes. That'll give us a little time to catch up. So, do you know Callous here?"

Counter-Punch shook his head as he reached out and gripped the slender, orange Decepticon by the wrist in greeting. They had never met, but Counter-Punch had familiarized himself with Callous's personnel file as he too was a weapons designer and therefore someone that Counter-Punch would want to get to know. "No, nice to meet you."

Killjoy gave Counter-Punch a quick look over. "You look a little different from the last time I saw you. Did you undergo any modifications?"

"Yeah, I was to be reassigned to Earth a few months back, so in preparation, I modified myself to match a vehicle native to that mud ball. And after all that hassle, I was only there a couple of days."

Callous's optics lit up. "You've been to Earth?"

Counter-Punch nodded, a little surprised by the orange Decepticon's excitement. Killjoy seemed equally excited by the news and chimed in. "Tell us about the non-humanoid life forms! Are they really as formidable as Shockwave seems to think?"

Counter-Punch made no attempt to hide his utter confusion. "Formidable? What are you talking about? They're flesh-sacks! I personally could tear to shreds a herd of the toughest species that that planet has ever produced!"

Callous held up his hand to stop Counter-Punch. "No, you don't understand. We're not talking about the flesh and bone aspects of the creatures, we're talking about the advantages in the overall designs of their shapes and natural weaponry."

Counter-Punch nodded, as he understood the question that they were asking. "Uhh, I guess. I suppose Ravage's new frame is more formidable that his previous one. In fact, it's said that his skills in espionage and close-quarters combat are significantly greater now. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw retain the same general shape, but I guess that the addition of their talons do make them more efficient killers. And the alternate modes of the Predacons, Insecticons and Dinobots are supposedly very advantageous in battle." The blue Decepticon cocked his head inquisitively. "But since when does Shockwave find these shapes so impressive? I realize that he designed the Insecticons and Predacons, but I always figured that these were done more to allow for non-energon food consumption than anything else."

Killjoy shrugged. "Not sure, but we're designing some unprecedentedly powerful warrior frames, and the most impressive ones all incorporate some 'animal' mode. Heck, the one that'll spell certain doom for the Autobots has this feature. Its robotic mode is based on a modified version of an extinct Earth beast."

Callous shoved his elbow into Killjoy's side. "Hey, we're not allowed to divulge any of this!"

Killjoy gave his companion an annoyed look. "Hey, it's alright, Counter-Punch is cool." The dark green Decepticon returned his attention to the spy. "Now don't go blabbing about this to anyone, but let's say that this thing will be able to eradicate entire legions of Autobot troops. We'll have Iacon back in our possession within hours of this thing going on line."

Callous gripped Killjoy by the shoulder and spun him around so that they were facing each other. "That's enough!" Callous then sent Counter-Punch an ominous glare. "Forget what you've heard here, you'll stay much healthier that way."

Counter-Punch shrugged and started walking away. "Forget I’ve heard what?"


*


"Now get going. I want the data brought to Polyhex and work on the Transwarp engine to have begun by day's end." Shockwave watched Bombshell nod and walk briskly out of the room. He turned back to the master control panel in the throne room. A bright light indicating a communications summons had been flashing for the better part of a minute, and with Bombshell dispatched Shockwave finally decided to answer it. "Shockwave here."

"Lord Shockwave, Ratbat here. Lord Megatron is holding for you."

Shockwave had been waiting for this call. Razorclaw had managed to get him a private message informing him that the Predacons had been forced to reveal their new gestalt mode. Shockwave agreed with Razorclaw's logic for doing so, but still was angry that he would have to receive an undoubtedly abusive lecture from Megatron. "Put him through."

"Shockwave my old friend?" The gravelly voice resonated through the throne room.

"I am here Lord Megatron."

"Good. I have a question to ask of you."

"What question is that my Commander?"

"WHAT MANNER OF FLAWED LOGIC MADE YOU THINK THAT KEEPING ME UNAWARE OF PREDAKING WAS A GOOD IDEA, YOU IMBECILE!?!"

"Your abuse serves no purpose. I agree that that decision was made in error, and I guarantee that it will not happen again. If an apology will assuage your anger, then I will happily provide one; I am sorry."

"You arrogant, condescending, insubordinate worm! I provide you with energon, and what do you do in return? Have my legions annihilated, and any new weapon that you develop to replace it, you keep hidden from me! I should baptize you in a smelting pool!"

"Once again my liege, I apologize. Please keep in mind that your threats are not assisting our cause in any way."

"SHUT UP!" Shockwave obeyed Megatron's order and remained silent. Several seconds passed before Megatron continued. "Now, despite your stupidity in failing to reveal his existence, your work in creating PredaKing is exceptional."

"Thank you, Megatron."

"What is it that makes him so much more effective than the other combiners?"

Shockwave thought silently for a moment, not sure whether to reveal the truth about that to Megatron or not. "In all honesty Megatron, I do not know. My theory is that the animalistic traits of each of the Predacons allow them to revert to a simpler mindset, one that is more compatible with their teammates and makes for much less friction in both the newly created mind and body." Shockwave felt confident in knowing that he would be safe even if Megatron ever learned that this was not the case. Any evidence that indicated Shockwave had determined the true cause of PredaKing's efficiency had long since been eliminated.

"Hmmm." Megatron pondered the possibilities of the lie that Shockwave had told him. "I want you to develop a procedure so that the Insecticons can combine and become a super-warrior of that caliber."

Shockwave was surprised at the suggestion. "Sir, the result of a three bot combination will not be nearly as powerful as a five bot combination, nor are the Insecticons the equal of the Predacons. There is no way to make this new warrior the equal of PredaKing."

"Yes, they will probably not be as great an asset as PredaKing, but if this new warrior has similar reflexes, then with even a fraction of the strength he would be an amazing asset."

Shockwave realized that while his reasons for the assumed effectiveness for an Insecticon gestalt were not correct, the ultimate conclusion Megatron had reached was. The Insecticons possessed the same nano-technology that made the Predacon gestalt so formidable. And while they were significantly less mentally stabile, the resulting gestalt couldn’t be any more deranged than Menasor was. Despite this, Shockwave still felt this was a bad idea. "But sir, are you sure you want to give the Insecticons this ability? They are unreliable to say the least."

Megatron laughed. "Unreliable, yes. But despite this they still enjoy killing Autobots. And as you yourself mentioned, PredaKing will still be more than capable of subduing them should they get out of line."

Shockwave thought deeply about the ramifications of this endeavor. Unlike the Predacons, the Insecticons were not loyal to him. At least, the original Insecticons were not loyal to him. The purple Decepticon had kept more than just the existence of PredaKing from his leader. New acquisitions had come into existence recently, warriors whose physical characteristics made them germane to this current conversation. But despite their relevance, Shockwave decided that their existence would remain a secret kept from Megatron, for the time being at least. "I will devising a procedure for a bio-mechanical, three-bot combination."

"Good."


***


"Look, I really don't have time for this." Ratchet stopped his welding on Hot Spot's leg and walked over to Air Raid who was sitting on another metal slab in the Ark's infirmary.

Despite Ratchet's refusal, Bluestreak kept up his pestering. "Look Ratchet, there aren't that many Autobots that have been around long enough to be familiar with ancient Cybertronian, and the other geezers on board swear up and down that they can't decipher this stuff. Ironhide says it's even more ancient than ancient Cybertronian."

Exasperated, Ratchet turned toward Bluestreak. "Look, it sounds like fun, but I've got patients here."

Bluestreak looked around the Infirmary. "You're done with Hot Spot, First Aid can handle Air Raid, Slingshot and Sludge. Sideswipe's remaining injuries are only superficial, and he likes scars anyway, and all Sunstreaker needs is some buffing, which can definitely wait."

The sleek, yellow Autobot on the other side of the infirmary hopped off of his slab and on to his feet. "What do you mean I can wait, you ugly, blathering twit!?!"

Bluestreak turned toward the yellow warrior and immediately regretted implying that his needs weren't important, even though they really weren't. "Look, I didn't mean anything by it." Bluestreak turned toward the sleek, yet brawny red Autobot seated near Sunstreaker. "Sideswipe, help me out here."

Sideswipe shook his head in annoyance, but got to his feet and stood between Bluestreak and the approaching Sunstreaker. "Look Bro, he's excited and just wants Ratchet to take a look at that thing. He didn't mean any insult, and you know it."

Sunstreaker glared at his brother. "Slag off, Swipe! Excitement and his tendency to let his mouth run like a human woman's shouldn't be an excuse for him claiming his pointless little download is more important than my medical treatment. A bland looking troll like him has no idea of how important my bodywork really is, and I think it's time somebody taught him some sense of priorities."

Sideswipe sighed. "Darn it Streaker, you know I can't let that happen. I don't want to throw hands with you...yet again...but if it comes to that, you know I will."

Sunstreaker smiled malevolently at the red warrior. "When was the last time you beat me?"

Sideswipe nodded. "It’s been awhile, you've won the last four…but I'm due. And I've mastered about a half-dozen of the human martial arts since our last scrap. I think I might just know enough to counter your skills, and we both know which of us is physically stronger."

Sunstreaker's grin widened. "Yeah, you're the better athlete, but even if you studied to the point of knowing everything I know, I'd still beat your fender. That line will always make me your better." The grin curved away.

The sibling robots glared intently at each other for several seconds before Bluestreak, still terrified for his own well-being, nervously broke the silence. "What line?"

Still maintaining his stare into his brother's optics, Sunstreaker answered his would be victim's question. "The one that he won't cross."

Ratchet called out. "That's enough! I will not permit this stupidity in my infirmary! This ends now or I'm calling security!"

Ratchet's statement was completely ignored by the two brothers, but Sideswipe did try to defuse the situation by putting his hand on Sunstreaker's shoulder in an attempt to calm the yellow warrior. "You're right. I'm not you. But you're not expecting that fact to make me back down, are you?"

Ratchet refused to be ignored. "That's it! Get the slag out of my infirmary now!"

Sunstreaker smiled, but remained staring at Sideswipe. "No problem Doc." He then turned toward Bluestreak. "There truly is a time and place for everything, and this isn't it." A sadistic chuckle escaped the handsome Autobot’s lips. “But I do see it happening sometime soon, in a place not far from here.”

Sideswipe's grip of his brother's shoulder gently tightened. "I'm not letting you get to Bluestreak, get that through your shiny head. So either you back down, or go through me. And trust me, you won't be able to do that without having to cross that slaggin’ line."

The other Autobots in the infirmary stared in terror, except for Sludge, who was not aware of how savage the brawls between the two brothers usually got. Though they would never resort to using weapons against each other, everything else went. At least for Sunstreaker; Sideswipe's love for his brother sometimes caused him to hesitate, which usually directly led to his winding up beaten and heavily damaged. But there were times when even the fiercely loyal Sideswipe lost all sense of brotherly affection and cut loose, leading to most of the few victories he held over Sunstreaker.

Finally Sunstreaker spoke. "Fine. That gray pile of slag isn't worth it. But either you or Ratchet is fixing my finish, you got that?"

Sideswipe smiled and nodded, and then turned to Ratchet. "I'll take care of this, that is, if I have permission to leave."

Maintaining a stern expression, the Autobot Medical Officer replied. "Get him out of here!" He watched Sunstreaker march out without any acknowledgement, but called out to Sideswipe as he was leaving. "We can't keep going through this. He's getting out of control."

Sideswipe stopped, and then turned to Ratchet. "I admit he's not easy to deal with. But we owe it to him to accept him the way he is. Most of us would be dead if he weren't around."

Ratchet looked down and shook his head. "I realize he's an exceptional asset in battle, but his behavior around here is starting to call for some drastic actions to be taken."

Sideswipe looked into the hall at the back of his departing brother before returning his intensified gaze to Ratchet. "You see us at each other's throats quite a bit, and it's common for us to lock horns with one another, but never doubt the bond between us. Anyone who makes an enemy of Sunstreaker makes an enemy of me. This should be realized before any drastic action is undertaken." With that Sideswipe marched quickly after his brother.

Ratchet shook his head. "Bluestreak?"

The terrified Autobot slowly replied. "Yeah?"

"Please learn how to think before you talk, especially when that psycho is within audio-reception range."

"Yup, you got it." Bluestreak then remembered the small holo-projector that he had been holding all along, and the reason he had originally sought Ratchet out. "So now that that's over, how about you take a look at this thing?"

Ratchet looked to First Aid, who smiled back and nodded. "No problem, I've got these guys. And I have to admit that I'm a little curious myself about Bluestreak's artifact, so why don't you try deciphering it in here?"

Ratchet shook his head in annoyance. "Fine. Bluestreak set it up on that slab." The boxy white medic pointed to an empty metal slab near the center of the large room. Bluestreak happily complied and in seconds, a clear image of a metal tablet was hovering over the treatment table. Ratchet made his way over to the image and started examining it as he would a patient's frame. "So, what do we have here?"

After over two minute's of silent study, a visibly perplexed Ratchet called out to Bluestreak. "How old did they say this thing was?"

Bluestreak was immediately at his side responding. "Well, Magnus's notes say that the preliminary estimates put it between one hundred fifty and one hundred fifty five thousand vorns of age."

Ratchet nodded. "Roughly twelve and a half million years old." Ratchet chuckled. "The scary thing is, going by what little I can decipher, that's probably about right."

"So what it say?" Sludge impatiently prodded the physician.

Ratchet craned his neck to take another look at the top of it. "Alright, I'll try my best, but bear in mind that the vast majority of this writing is completely foreign to me." Ratchet reached out to touch the first row of characters, and was a little startled as his finger went through the image.

A little embarrassed for forgetting that this was a hologram that he was looking at, the medic smiled sheepishly before continuing. "Property...ownership...no, that's not right. Personal! This personal...wording, no...Account. Yes. This is the personal account of...” Ratchet struggled to make out what he knew could only be the identification of the writer. "A...A-Seven?" Ratchet was doubtful that that could be a name, but after reexamining the carvings several more times, he was confident that he had in fact read it correctly. "Alright, this is the personal account of someone named A-Seven, I think."

Bluestreak nodded. "Good. Go on."

Ratchet scanned the rest of the row of carvings, and continued into the second row. "Danger...demon...voice...deceive. None of this is making sense. I must be reading it wrong."

First Aid looked up from his examination of Air Raid. "You're doing fine, just keep at it."

Ratchet smiled and continued his attempts at deciphering the cryptic inscriptions. After another few minutes his optics lit up. "O.K., I think I'm making a little sense of this. This appears to be a warning from somebody named A-Seven, apparently one of the first of Primus's children, about being mislead by a false voice. And it looks like he's given his own personal account of the fall of Cybertron."

Bluestreak smiled. "Now you have to continue."

Now thoroughly enthralled by the story being slowly revealed by the holographic tablet, Ratchet conveyed a summary of what he could translate to his comrades. "Twenty vorns prior to carving this message, it appears that A-Seven and others of his kind successfully repelled an invasion of robots that could change their shapes into animalistic killing machines. Though successful, the defense of Cybertron took a large toll on these early Cybertronians, so they spent the next several vorns constructing formidable defenses, and made sure that they were well armed at all times."

"The threat posed by the invaders eventually lessened, and though still well armed and protected, the populace became complacent. Talk of de-militarizing the planet began to spread through the city-states, but those in power, of which A-Seven appeared to be one of, were still cognizant of the dangers from above, and steadfastly maintained the defenses."

"Then, explorers began returning from subterranean expeditions claiming to have discovered..." Ratchet paused. "I think I can pronounce it in Cybertronian, but I’m not exactly sure what it means so I'm not even going to try the English translation." He read the word silently once more before attempting to say it. "Garbolicanopsil."

"Prophet."

All optics turned toward the massive Dinobot sitting on his metal slab. Ratchet looked questioningly at the speaker. "What did you say, Sludge?"

The ponderous Dinobot looked at the other Autobots. "Word mean prophet."

Ratchet, still surprised, nodded. "It certainly fits, but how did you know that? I'm very well-read in ancient writings, and I've never come across anything like that word."

Sludge shrugged. "Most pit fighters very religious. With death close at hand, it good to believe in afterlife. Those that worship Quints as gods talk of great Garbolicanopsil that prepare way for their coming to Cybertron. But me know Quints not gods, so me Sludge not pay much attention."

Ratchet was stunned. "That's amazing. Going by the rest of the narrative, I was going to guess it meant something like psychic, seer, soothsayer, visionary or even the voice of Primus, but I couldn't be sure. To actually have a verifiable occurrence of the usage of this word two and a half million years later that fits so perfectly with A-Seven's narrative is utterly astounding."

The Dinobot seemed excited. "Sludge do good?"

Ratchet nodded. "Sludge did great." The Autobot medic turned his attention back to the projected image. "So accounts of this, prophet, are brought to the leadership, and A-Seven himself leads a team down deep into Cybertron to see this with his own optics. He remains deep below the surface for many weeks, and communes several times with this Garbolicanopsil, and eventually comes away from this communion ref..." Ratchet’s face took on a confused expression, but then lightened, as he seemed to decipher what was being written. "Ah, I see. He came away rebuilt in both body and as he would later discover, mind as well. He carried the messages of this prophet back to the surface, and began preaching it to the masses. Messages of peace, harmonious co-existence, non-resistance, compliance and, most importantly, disarmament."

First Aid's voice came out from behind Air Raid's back as he worked on his Aerialbot patient. "Sounds like some very wise philosophies."

"That's how A-Seven felt as well, as did the vast majority of the populace shortly after hearing the words of the Garbolicanopsil spoken through the voice of the well respected A-Seven." Ratchet continued reading, and after another couple of minutes, relayed more to the other Autobots. "The leadership opposed his teachings, leadership that included many of his closest friends, but soon his teachings grew so popular that the policies of the prophet were soon being adopted on a fairly large scale."

Ratched read further, and continued his translations. "I guess the changes being made weren't fast enough for the Garbolicanopsil, because enormous quantities of energon were pumped down into the depths of Cybertron to power this prophet up. Apparently, and I could very well be reading this incorrectly, but it looks as though the Garbolicanopsil exuded vast energies that transformed much of the planet's surface. Cybertron was temporarily covered by compounds that appeared to contain both organic and mechanical properties, and which seemed to accumulate in greater abundance in and around the planetary defenses."

"In addition to the damage caused by this strange matter, the planetary defenses also faced a great deal of dismantling by Cybertronians acting on behalf of the prophet. In a matter of months, Cybertron had been remade into a glorious utopian ideal. All needs were attended too, all hardships vanished, all conflict eliminated; life was perfect."

Ratchet turned to his comrades and smiled. "Now it gets interesting. The Cybertronians quickly became utterly dependant upon the gifts of the Garbolicanopsil, and had adopted idle, carefree existences. The few that still opposed the will of the prophet were completely disregarded, and were soon considered outcasts. The masses had no desire to question this ideal existence. And then it happened." The medic stayed silent for several seconds just to tease his friends.

Somewhat annoyed by Ratchet's dramatic pause, Air Raid snapped out. "Then what happened?"

Ratchet looked at the Aerialbot and smiled. "The invaders returned, this time led by their lords and masters. A species with oval-shaped bodies, tentacles, and five faces that encircle the tops of their torsos."

Sludge let out a furious roar. "ME KNEW THEY NOT GODS!" The startled Autobots stared at the Dinobot as he slowly calmed himself. Sludge looked at the others and nervously shrugged. "Sorry, me just very angry at Quints."

Ratchet nodded. "Understandably so. But they are long gone, and will probably never return." The white and red Autobot turned back to the image of the ancient artifact and continued. "All that's left is a few statements describing how they became a slave race forced to worship these invaders as deities, an apology for facilitating the collapse of Cybertron, and a vow from A-Seven that he and the remaining children of Primus would free Cybertron from these would-be gods; no matter what the cost." Ratchet smiled. "That's it kids, end of story."

First Aid stood up and closed Air Raid's back panel. "Very entertaining, but that's all it is; entertainment."

Bluestreak turned toward the Protectobot. "You don't think there's any historical accuracy here?"

First Aid shrugged. "Maybe a smidgen. Cybertronian folklore and legend is filled with ancient prophecies, mystic voices and tons of other nonsense. I've heard similar stories about everything from the Matrix, Vector Sigma, some key that apparently goes to Vector Sigma, the Oracle, ghosts, ultimate warriors, last Autobots and other such silliness.”

Ratchet shook his head. "No, with the exception of the Matrix and Vector, all of those legends came about long after the fall of the old gods. This story is completely unrelated to any of those legends."


***


"Look alive, boys, we've got something coming at us from the west." Crowbar twisted his head back toward the portable sensor array. "Looks like whatever it is, it's alone."

His two comrades stood up and walked over to the gray Decepticon. The first one, a lean, red and black, twenty-four foot robot, reached back and pulled a metal object from a case slung over his shoulder. In one fluid movement, he whipped his arm forward forcing the object to extend, revealing it to be an enormous rifle with a large scope mounted on the top of it. The slender robot lowered to the ground and laid out on his stomach, pointing his rifle in a westerly direction. After slowly panning across the horizon, the armed Decepticon stopped his visual scanning, smiled and addressed his comrades. "Got something."

A jet-black robot with a frame vaguely similar to Crowbar's looked out in the same direction that the speaker had been facing. "What is it Snipe?"

Snipe dimmed his left optic and intensified the right one, the one peering through the scope. "A ground cruiser, dark blue...weird design though. Kind of like something from...slag, I forgot it's name, that organic planet we're getting our energon from."

"You mean Earth?" The black Decepticon strained his optics further, but was still unable to see what Snipe had spotted.

"That's it, Browbeat, Earth." The red and black Decepticon tightened his grip on his weapon and laughed. "A non-military ground cruiser, built to blend in with Earth vehicles; do I really need any more verification that it's an Autobot?"

Crowbar laughed as well. "Naw, go ahead and ventilate the sucker."

Snipe's chuckling died down. "Hold on a second, it's slowing down. Alright, now he's stopped, and, he’s transforming...” The other two Decepticons waited eagerly to hear Snipe's description of the robot. "Damn, Deceptibrands."

"Awwwww." The two heavily armored warriors expressed their disappointment in unison.

"He's checking his own internal scanners. He's looking our way, yup, it appears that he's detected us as well. No doubt about it now, he's transformed and is speeding this way."

A few minutes later the blue sports car arrived on the scene and transformed before the three Decepticons. "You!" Crowbar exclaimed in surprise.

Counter-Punch appeared equally startled. "What are you doing here Crowbar?"

"Never mind that! What are you doing here?" The bulky gray warrior was obviously irritated at the appearance of the robot that he had paid a favor to several hours before.

Counter-Punch took a step back defensively, and raised his hands, palms out in an attempt to calm the angry prison guard. "Hey, relax. I had some off-base quarters in Keliocon back before I was put into long-term stasis, and this was the first chance that I've gotten since waking up to go check out the condition of my property. I was on my way there when I detected readings from you guys."

The dim-witted Crowbar accepted this to be a reasonable explanation, but it still seemed just a little too coincidental to him. His colleague Browbeat walked up and stood next to Crowbar. "Who is this guy?"

Crowbar displayed a crooked smile. "This is the guy who beat the energon out of that walking mainframe down there without leaving a mark on him."

Snipe suddenly became more interested, but maintained his aloof demeanor. "So you studied at the Temple of the Ultimate Warrior?"

Counter-Punch hadn't anticipated having to back up this lie so soon. He looked directly into the optics of Crowbar. "I thought that we weren't to tell anyone about that incident."

Crowbar laughed. "Aw, these guys are alright. Both Browbeat and Snipe here feel the same way about that flimsy Autobot as I do."

The blue newcomer nodded, and continued his attempt to change the subject. "And what did you mean by saying that the Autobot I beat up was 'down there'?"

"The red wimp has a lab under the surface. Bombshell and a couple of techno-geeks are down there ransacking the place."

Snipe took a few more steps toward Counter-Punch, and brought the attention back to his ignored question. "When did you study at the Temple?"

Counter-Punch shrugged. "This was back before I was put in the Cooler."

Mild curiosity now turning to skepticism, Snipe pressed. "What did you learn there? Did you study under Master Bl..."

"YEAH, what did you learn? Teach me some of that stuff!" Crowbar excitedly interrupted.

"Yeah, me too!" Browbeat was eager to learn new ways to inflict pain as well.

Counter-Punch nodded. Go-time. "Alright." Counter-Punch opened a compartment on his lower right leg and withdrew two devices, each the size of his fist, and attached the end of a long stretch of cord to one of them. "This is an electronic magnet that I'm going to attach to your chest, Crowbar.” Once the tethered magnet was affixed to Crowbar’s chest Counter-Punch held up the other similarly sized, but differently shaped, hunk of metal. “This is another magnet, which I am going to attach to the center of you back, between your shoulders. I'm going to hold on to the other end of this cord several yards away, and all you need to do is remove the magnet on your back without causing a ripple in the cord. This is a simple exercise that you should be able to master quickly."

Crowbar uncomfortably squirmed as Counter-Punch attached the second magnet to his back and started walking away until the cord was just short of being taut. “Actually, I was kind of hoping that you’d just skip straight to the torture techniques.”

Counter-Punch let out a quiet, friendly chuckle. “I’m abridging it as much as possible, but there are certain steps we can’t just skip. Besides, your skill level will take off in no time.” The blue Decepticons optics flared, as if suddenly realizing something. “Hold on a second, don’t start just yet. I forgot an important part.” Counter-Punch reached back into his leg compartment and pulled out a cylindrical object roughly the size of his forearm. The object was pointed at one end and open at the other. Counter-Punch attached the end of the cord to this new object and returned his attention to the other Decepticons. “Ready?”

Crowbar shrugged. “I guess.”

Counter-Punch touched a button on the cylinder, a blast of fire emanated from the opening and it immediately shot into the sky, pulling a tethered Crowbar behind it. The moment the rocket took to the sky, Counter-Punch had dropped to one knee and pulled out a pistol from a compartment on his lower left leg. He immediately aimed it at Snipe’s face and unloaded four rounds, all of which tore right through, killing the Decepticon sniper immediately.

Browbeat, who had been following his flying friend with his optics, immediately looked down in surprise once he heard the sounds of the gunfire, just in time to see Counter-Punch turning the gun on him. The first two shots tore into his face, one severely damaging his left optic, but his armor was thick enough to keep the pistol’s shots from penetrating too deeply.

Counter-Punch knew that his gun would probably not be enough to cut through the armor of the larger robots, but upon seeing Snipe’s long-range, armor-puncturing, sniper rifle, he devised a way to compensate. Browbeat stumbled back after receiving the close range shots, and Counter-Punch immediately jumped towards Snipe’s corpse and lifted his weapon. Browbeat had just regained his balance and composure as Counter-Punch unloaded on his face and upper torso. This time, Browbeat’s armor was not enough.

Reaching down with his left hand toward the compartment that had housed his pistol, Counter-Punch put the gun back and withdrew a small pad that had four buttons on it. The blue robot pressed two in unison, causing the explosive device that he had affixed to Crowbar’s back to detonate. The airborne explosion echoed over the metal ground, and small pieces of Decepticon debris fell back to Cybertron.

“That’ll certainly get their attention.” Counter-Punch tossed the rifle high in the air, dropped the detonator pad, and initiated a transformation. A yellow Autobot, who then started making his way to the laboratory entrance that had been cut into the ground, caught the falling rifle. Punch descended below the surface, carrying the rifle in his right hand and retrieving his pistol with his left. Stopping momentarily, he changed the settings on his pistol, and then continued making his way through the narrow cavern cut into the planet.

Ahead, he heard a nervous voice hesitantly call into the darkness. “Snipe, is that you?”

Punch recognized Killjoy’s voice, and responded with his best impression of Crowbar. “Naw, it’s Crowbar, Killjoy. Snipe wanted to practice his aim on moving targets, and that stupid jerk Browbeat tossed one of his shells into the air as a target. Heh heh.”

Two sets of footsteps started coming toward Punch. “You guys are idiots. Bombshell is freaked, and I know he’s going to report…” Killjoy and Callous stopped in their tracks as they finally saw the yellow Autobot before them. Before they could say or do anything, a deadly discharge of armor-piercing rounds had cut both of them nearly into halves.

Punch could see the light from the lab about seventy feet behind their corpses, and slowly made his way to it. With extreme caution, he entered the room and scanned every inch of it with his optics. Suddenly, a large, red form was charging at him from his left. Punch immediately raised his pistol and sent a shot into his attacker’s cranium. Perceptor fell to the ground and lay motionless.

From his right, Bombshell began firing upon the yellow Autobot. Lasers tore into Punch’s right forearm, forcing the would-be rescuer to drop the rifle. Punch immediately dove forward and twisted his body around, firing his pistol at the Insecticon. Bolts of electricity sizzled into Bombshell’s weapon-wielding hand, and he too was forced to drop his firearm. Bombshell dove for the intruder, and despite weathering numerous low-powered shots, he quickly had Punch completely disarmed and pinned to the ground. Punch struggled frantically, managing to free an arm and eventually push the Insecticon off of him.

The grappling continued, ravaging the already unkempt lab. The two combatants broke away from each other, but immediately faced one another again, crouched and ready to lunge. A slow smile started curving into the Autobot’s face, forcing the Insecticon to respond. “I didn’t expect you to face your death with a smile.”

From behind Bombshell, a voice responded to his statement. “I assure you, your assertion that his demise is the impetus for his smile is most incorrect.” Bombshell whirled around, only to be thrown backward by a powerful right cross. The Decepticon immediately raised his head and glared at his former unwilling informant and the tenacious yellow Autobot that had managed to dispatch the other Decepticon escorts. Not liking the odds, Bombshell leapt to his feet and darted out of the room. “They are always taken aback by the fact that a scientist can be competent in fisticuffs.”

Punch nodded. “Yeah, thanks for the help, but next time Champ, keep the trash talking to less that a thousand syllables. You almost talked yourself out of the drop that you had gotten on him.” The yellow robot looked around the room. “Now, we need to destroy this place and get you to Iacon.”

“Are you insane? Iacon is overrun by…”

“No, Professor, it’s not. While you’ve been incarcerated the Autobots have retaken Iacon. It’s ours now, so start making your way there. Just tell me where to find some high explosives in this place. I only had one, and I kind of needed to use it already.”

Perceptor walked to the other side of the room and opened some compartments in the wall that housed a series of various munitions. “Ultra Magnus always insisted that I set up an emergency self-destruct procedure for every laboratory that I created. I was reliable about equipping the facilities with the incendiary devices, but I was always too eager to start my work to actually install them.”

Punch ran over and started pulling out the explosives. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this. Just start heading through the tunnels to Iacon,” The yellow Autobot pulled out a data pad. “And give this to Magnus.”

Perceptor accepted the data pad and looked at it. “What does this contain?”

Punch began planting explosives around the lab. “Stuff that requires Prime’s immediate attention.” The quickly moving Autobot turned toward Perceptor. “Now get out of here! It’s not like you have some high speed alternate form, so you’d better start making tracks now!”

Perceptor nodded. “Thank you…I don’t even know your name.”

Punch nodded. “That’s right, you don’t. And if you ever see me on the Autobot side of the battle lines, we’ve never met. Understand?”

“Of course.”


***


“A squadron of Seekers are currently en-route, and I’ll have various trackers converge on that position as well. I must say, I’m extremely disappointed by not only your failure to retrieve the data, but by your loss of such a valuable prisoner as well.” Shockwave would have liked nothing more than to exterminate Bombshell for this incompetence, but with Megatron interested in an Insecticon gestalt, executing one of the Insecticons was out of the question.

Bombshell’s unconvincingly penitent voice came through the communications consul. “I apologize Shockwave. All of our intelligence indicated that any Autobots that had been in or around Keliocon had long since left for Iacon. And I assumed that Snipe and the two guards would have offered more protection.”

Shockwave stepped toward the consul. “I have no desire to hear your excuses. I will read your report as soon as you’ve submitted it. For now, just return to Darkmount. I spoke to Megatron a few minutes ago, and we both agree that it would be best for you to return to Earth upon your arrival, and you’ll be escorting some new soldiers for Megatron.”

“Yes Si…”

Bombshell’s response was cut short as Shockwave severed the communications link. The purple Decepticon turned around and faced four other robots that were with him in the room. “That will be one of your future cohorts.”

A predominantly orange, green and silver robot replied. “I’ll look forward to bossing that fool around.”

Shockwave nodded. “I decided to inform Megatron of your existence, and convinced him to appoint you, Venom, as leader of all Insecticons. But while you have a leadership mandate from both Megatron and myself, the other Insecticons may resist. Do not be afraid to inflict some brutal discipline.” Shockwave turned back to the consul and pressed a series of buttons. The doors to the room sealed shut, and the cameras in the corners powered down. “Now, while you will work with, and be labeled, Insecticons, your true loyalty will lie elsewhere. Regardless of your alternate modes, you are Predacons. THAT is your true affiliation, though no one, other than myself and the other Predacons are to know. Is that understood?”

The four biomechanical Decepticons replied in unison. “Yes Lord Shockwave.”

 

Wow, an another awesome chapter. Punch rocks too much, way too much. Awesome job.

 

Glorious, as usual. And major props for taking a pretty underrated character (Punch/Counterpunch) and giving him some real life and personality

 

nice. Perceptor got some hits in at last. To bad Sky-lynx was'nt under that temple. Maybe Percepter And A3 will work togather to build him. I guess I;ll wait and see.

 

Great chapter!!!
Punch and Perceptor absolutely rock!!!!
I also like the introduction of the Deluxe Insecticons and another relation to BW with the development of the three member gestalt.

 

Please supply us with more of these tasty morsels of joy! I need sustenance damnit.

 

Episode 24: The Swelling of a Purple Tide



The slender beam of light cut through the opaqueness, revealing precious little to the wielder of the illuminating device. Multi-colored fluids rolling down the curved walls and collecting in pools on the rusted floor, jagged shards jutting inward from the walls of the large and ancient drainage pipe, discarded refuse from others that had previously used these pipes to travel through, and the occasional features that upon closer scrutiny, belong to a corpse of one of those previous travelers. Due to the haste of the light-bearer, the little illumination that was provided was hopelessly inadequate, and the weary traveler stumbled and collapsed as he had countless times before. "Oh, smelt it all!!!"

It was the first vocalization that Perceptor had made since he had begun his trek through the bowels of Cybertron toward Iacon. He had been so careful for the past three days about making as little noise, and emitting as little energy through his lamp as possible, as to avoid being tracked by the Decepticons. But he was frustrated and exhausted, and was well aware that he had only just begun this long, arduous journey.

Ahead in the distance, the faint sound of metal clacking on metal could be barely heard by the Autobot scientist, but it disappeared so quickly that Perceptor could not be certain that he had actually heard it. Cocking his head so that his left audio receptor was facing the origin of the sound, the fugitive detected only the occasional dripping through the silence. After several tense minutes Perceptor finally decided that it had been nothing, and started slowly and quietly rising to his feet.

Placing his right hand firmly against the side of the large, ancient pipe that he had been traveling through, Perceptor started lifting himself up. Suddenly, his hand poked through the rusted wall that had been supporting him, and his body clumsily fell back to the damp metal floor. Despite refraining from lashing out vocally, the fall made a fair amount of ruckus. Perceptor looked up from the ground expectantly in the direction that the noise he thought that he had heard earlier originated from.

Five long seconds passed before his fears were realized, and the distant tapping of metal on metal returned with a vengeance. Perceptor leapt to his feet, no longer making any attempt to stifle the noises of his movements. He turned and fled in the direction that he was coming from, powering up the lamp in his disarmed, shoulder-mounted cannon. He deftly leapt over and dodged the various pieces of debris and other obstacles in his now-illuminated path, but despite his unhindered flight, the sounds were getting closer quickly. The fleeing Autobot reached down and gripped the pistol that the yellow Autobot spy had given him and disengaged the magnet that was holding the weapon to his leg. Perceptor turned moments before whatever it was that was giving him chase would be upon him, and fired.

The red Autobot watched as the laser blast impacted what he could only assume to be the head of a horrifying metal beast. It's six long, gray, tentacle-like legs came to a stop as it shook off the seemingly insignificant effects of the blast. Each leg of this beast continued up to the center of a black wheel, which in turn was attached to a dark blue, tubular body. Perched upon the front end of this body was a long, black, segmented neck, and atop that neck was what had to be the head, but it resembled no head that Perceptor had ever seen before. The dark gray object was shaped something like an inverted bird's beak, but the lower portion not only separated from the top, but also split in half so that the 'mouth' opened into three outer parts. A long, red strip, which Perceptor guessed to be the optic, ran along the top of the head. The body alone was fifty percent larger than Perceptor, and each of the limbs was nearly twenty feet long. The head was more than two-thirds the size of Perceptor's torso.

The beast stopped shaking it's head and fixed it's red optic on Perceptor, exposed wiring and other circuitry damaged from Perceptor's shot snapped and sizzled. All three parts of the mouth separated, and the beast seemed to strain to roar, or to maybe utilize a mouth-mounted weapon. But whatever the monster hoped would happen didn't seem to be happening, and it closed it's mouth and set upon Perceptor.

Without any chance of escape, the scientist fired frantically at the attacker. But the beast endured the panicked shots without slowing down at all, and was quickly gripping the Autobot with it's mouth and pulling him toward the underside of it's torso. The middle legs reached for the fugitive and extended as they wrapped around him. In seconds Perceptor was securely bound and pinned to the underside of the powerful metal beast. The creature turned back toward the direction from whence it came, and started sprinting on it's four outer legs.

The terrified prisoner fruitlessly struggled and screamed for help as the creature darted through the lightless tunnels. It ran for the better part of an hour without slowing, before finally taking a tunnel that headed upward toward the surface. Minutes later the beast burst through a metal grate and bounded over the surface of the planet, inexplicably releasing Perceptor as it did so.

The Autobot scientist rolled away from the monster, and it turned back toward him and merely looked at him silently. Rolling to a seated position, Perceptor got his hands and feet under him and started crawling backward, all the while keeping his optics on his abductor. The beast remained stationary, just watching as his prey desperately attempted to crawl away from it. Perceptor finally felt he had put enough distance between them to at least initiate his attempt to flee in earnest. He flipped over so that he was now looking down at the ground, pushed off with his hands, got his feet under him, and charged directly into another humanoid robot.

Perceptor felt a pair of hands grip him tightly by the upper arms, preventing him from falling back to the ground. His head turned upward, and his optics looked over the blue and white torso and arms of the robot holding him. Upon seeing the face, relief and confusion set in. "Twin Twist!" Perceptor jerked away and pointed at the monster. "Shoot it!"

Perceptor was mortified to hear laughter from not only Twin Twist, but from others behind the Jumpstarter. The red scientist whirled back around and looked past his comrade to see one mid-sized robot and one extremely large robot standing and laughing several yards behind him. The large robot stood an impressive forty-five feet in height and spoke out between chuckles. "Another classic reaction to your overwhelming beauty Links."

From high above, a voice responded. "Can it Broadside." Perceptor looked up to see an air hauler equipped with thrusters and hover-jets lower to the ground. Once within forty feet of the ground, the craft transformed into a robotic glider mode that appeared very much like an enlarged version of Buzzsaw or Laserbeak's pre-Earth forms, only much more frightening looking. The wings extended and flapped, controlling the descent until a pair of feet made from the vehicular mode's landing pads touched the ground. The long, narrow neck that extended from the top of the former aircraft led to a head made from a gun turret that had rested in the center of the craft's dorsal section. Three oval-shaped optics mounted on the front of the round, flat-topped head, peered at Perceptor, and a twisted smile came from the mouth that had been the ammunition chamber of the turret only seconds before. "Glad to see that you're alive Professor." The winged robot turned toward the muti-legged beast that had dragged Perceptor out from the sewers. "And that you still have some fight in you."

Perceptor was stunned, but slowly he began to realize what was happening. "You...you're Links? Primus, of course! You're Links! I've read all about you!" The Platoon Commander, who was stationed on the other side of the planet, and who volunteered to undergo an unusual procedure to maximize the benefits of a unique trait that he possessed, had fascinated Perceptor. Links formerly had a typical, humanoid form, one that supposedly rivaled even Sunstreaker in beauty. During a skirmish with the Decepticons, he had one of his arms severed off, but amazingly, he retained the ability to control that arm. After countless examinations, it was determined that this ability could not only be extended to larger body parts, but should a cephalized brain and adequate neural circuitry be added to the separated parts, the secondary brain could link to his, make a copy of all existing memories, and think for itself if need be. A separate individual that contained no spark, and who could be controlled if Links so desired. Upon this determination, a proposal was put forth to sever the lower portion of Link's frame, redesign, and rebuild both halves to make them more effective in both battle and in non-battle functions. Links eventually agreed to the procedure, but rumor had it that upon it's completion he had been horrified at how his previously attractive features had been replaced by weapons and other optically-unpleasant physical traits. Perceptor had been fascinated by both the unprecedented abilities and by the entire procedure, but he had never gotten the opportunity to talk with anyone directly involved in the undertaking. "I have a plethora of queries for you." A confused expression slowly came over Perceptor's face, and he turned toward Links' ground component. "I was under the impression that either one of your modules had full cognitive abilities."

"They do." The head nodded on its long neck.

"Well then, why did your...other component...refrain from identifying itself?"

The smile left the winged robot's unpleasant looking face. "I was about to, but you damaged my vocal processing center when you shot me."

Perceptor's optics got big with surprise and embarrassment. "Oh, my apologies."

The orange-yellow, mid-sized robot standing next to the massive Broadside spoke up. "You'd better get him back to Iacon, Links. The 'Cons will probably be here any minute now."

The odd-looking head turned toward the speaker. "Of course, thank you Sandstorm." Links turned to his ground component and watched as it transformed into a six-wheeled freight hauler. He then turned back to Perceptor. "Please crawl into the freight hauler. It will be a bit of a squeeze, but you should fit."

Perceptor did as he was told, and once the scientist was inside, the winged part of Links took to the air, transformed into his air hauler mode, hovered over his ground component, and the two vehicles attached. Now linked, the combined cargo transporter lifted into the sky and headed toward Iacon.


***


"What is this?" The reddish-brown Insecticon held the comparatively minuscule organic life form gently between the pincers on his right arm.

Soundwave looked at the new arrival and examined the small creature that he possessed. "Domain: Eucarya. Kingdom: Animalia. Phylum: Anthropoda. Class: Crustacea. Order: Descapoda. Family: Caridea. Genus: Homarus. Species: Americanus. Common English designation: Lobster."

Chop Shop looked away from the large blue Decepticon and focused his gaze back on the small, aquatic creature. "Intriguing design." The Insecticon considered keeping it for future examination, but remembered that the bodies of organics started to rot after death, and decided that it would be better to avoid carrying around something that would undoubtedly become offensive to the olfactory senses in the not-to-distant future.

"Well it's about time!" Megatron's booming voice caused Chop Shop to drop the creature back into the surf.

Kickback and Shrapnel lowered to the rocky ground in front of the forty-two other Decepticons, four of which were unknown to them. Ignoring Megatron's angry exclamation, Shrapnel acknowledged their returned comrade. "Hey, Bombshell's back, back, back."

Megatron spun toward the Constructicons, and addressed both Scrapper and Hook. "Can't you crack open his cranial shell and fix that glitch?"

Hook shrugged. "With all the consulting that we're doing for the weapons designers back on Cybertron, we barely have enough time for the standard maintenance of the troops."

Scrapper nodded. "Yeah, and fixing that screwball would be a major undertaking."

Shrapnel started toward the Constructicon leader. "I've got something for you to undertake, take, take."

The combative Insecticon stopped as an unfamiliar voice cut through the air. "Insecticon, you will stand down!" The orange, white and green stranger stepped forward.

Shrapnel glared at the brash newcomer. "Who are you to order me, me, me!?!"

A raspy chuckle was emitted from Megatrons metal lips. "Oh, yes, Shrapnel, Kickback, let me introduce you to your new Squad Commander, Venom."

Kickback jumped forward toward Megatron. "What do you mean, 'new squad commander'!?!"

Megatron snarled at the insolent Insecticon. "I mean exactly what I said! Venom is the new Insecticon Commander, and you will obey his every command. I will personally deal with any insubordination within the Insecticon ranks, do you understand!?!" Megatron glared silently for a moment before looking toward the other new Insecticons, who had lined up next to each other, and continuing. Pointing first to the black robot, then the green, and finally toward the reddish-brown Chop Shop, Megatron introduced them. "This is Ransack, Barrage and Chop Shop. They will be reinforcing the Insecticon ranks. I suggest that you do whatever is necessary to become an effective and cohesive unit."

Megatron then looked over the rest of the Decepticons and addressed his soldiers. "This will be another hit-and-run attack on a human fuel depository, but this time there will be no sense of urgency. Let the Autobots attack us..." The imposing Commander glanced toward the Predacons. "They will only be charging to their own doom. We will collect all that we can carry before leaving, for even with their Guardian and their imitation gestalt super warriors, they are easily repelled by our Decepticon superiority!"

The dozens of Decepticons cheered in unison as they readied their attack.


***


Despite his massive strides, Ultra Magnus was forced to pick up his pace in order to keep up with the Autobot Femme Commander. He and Elita One had spent the last several days overseeing the rebuilding of Iacon's perimeter defenses, and were now focusing their attention on repairing the city-state's infrastructure. Even those systems and facilities not damaged by the Autobot retaking of the city were in dire need of repair due to eons of Decepticon neglect. The Decepticons saw Iacon only as a strategically and symbolically significant location, and never bothered with maintaining anything other than command centers, troop barracks, a few recreational facilities, and weapons systems. Everything else was seen as pointless civilian facilities used by a pointless, and soon-to-be extinct, civilian race.

But now that it was back under the control of that civilian race, and countless Autobots and neutrals were traveling from all over the planet to seek the sanctuary that Iacon now offered, the city-state needed to made habitable for the incoming masses. A daunting task that required more time and a larger labor force than the two commanders had at their disposal. But both Magnus and Elita knew that ready or not, the throngs of destitute Cybertronians were on their way. And mixing in with the masses would be a great way for a Decepticon saboteur to gain access to the city, so unprecedented security would need to be set up at the few entrance points that would be used.

The Autobot Commanders had to prepare for all of this, as well as the already staggering multitude of tasks involved in defending a position of this size and fighting a war against a numerically superior enemy. Magnus wondered silently if they really were better off having reclaimed the city, but smiled inwardly knowing that despite the increased workload and countless risks, having Iacon back in Autobot hands was the greatest thing to have happen in countless ages. And while lesser bots would have felt overwhelmed, these two looked forward to the massive undertaking with optimistic vigor. "The vast majority of the high-rise domiciles are in conditions far too dilapidated for occupation, but there are a few that are fit to be lived in, temporarily at least."

Elita One nodded as she glanced over the edifices that surrounded them. "That's good to hear, I had completely discounted the high-rises as a viable housing option. At least we can put a few of the refugees there."

A beeping came through Ultra Magnus's wrist communicator. Magnus raised the communicator to his mouth and responded. "Magnus here, report."

Red Alert's matter-of-fact voice came through. "Sir, Links has returned and I've directed him toward your position. He should be there momentarily."

Magnus nodded, looked skyward and saw the approaching flying freight hauler. "I see him now. Thanks Red Alert." The hulking Autobot Sub-Commander switched off the communicator and awaited Link's arrival. A few seconds later, the aircraft was settling down in front of the two robots. "Hello Links."

Six segmented legs extended from the centers of the six tires on the lower portion of the craft, the gun turret on the top of the craft lurched forward upon a newly extended neck and transformed into an odd head, and the wings extended and flapped the last few feet of the descent. "Greetings Magnus, Elita One." The head nodded gracefully at the Femme Commander.

Magnus stepped toward the large, mechanical creature. "Given that you've returned sooner than expected, is it safe for me to assume that you procured your target?"

A mangled smile came over the face of Links, and a compartment door on the underside of his lower cargo bay swung open, dropping a disheveled Perceptor to the ground. Perceptor slowly lifted himself off the ground. "Ughn. While I certainly appreciate the transport to Iacon, Links, I can not honestly claim that it was a pleasurable ride." The red Autobot looked up and caught sight of Ultra Magnus, and what appeared to be a member of the long extinct Autobot Femme race. Stunned, the normally verbose Perceptor could only let out a brief exclamation. "My word."

Both Ultra Magnus and Elita One smiled at the scientist's surprise. "Perceptor, I would like for you to meet Elita One, Commander of the Autobot Femmes."

Hesitantly, and without disengaging his stare, Perceptor approached Elita, reached out, and gently gripped her right wrist. "A pleasure to meet..." He jerked his head toward Magnus. "How is this possible?"

Magnus laughed. "That's a long story Professor. I'm sure that you'll have no difficulty finding someone to fill you in on everything that's happened since your capture. But for now, I was told that you have some information for me."

Perceptor released Elita's wrist and opened a small compartment on his chest. "Yes, of course." He withdrew a data pad and handed it to Magnus. "This was given to me by...an operative."

Magnus nodded and took the data pad. "Yes, he's the one that told us where we might find you. I don't think I need to tell you that there is to be no mention of his existence to anyone."

"Of course."

The large white, blue and red Autobot smiled. "Good. It's great to have you back. Were the Decepticons able to get any information out of you?"

Perceptor looked down. "The minuscule amount of information regarding the Transwarp Drive that they were able to extract from me will do them no good. Unfortunately, they were able to get details regarding the Worm-Hole Generator out of me." The red Autobot looked sorrowfully up at Magnus. "I'm sorry sir."

Magnus waved his hand in an attempt to dismiss any regret that the scientist felt. "Don't worry, you're not at fault. I'll find you later for a full debriefing." The Sub-Commander looked up at Links. "Could you please escort Perceptor to the main infirmary?"

"If it's all the same to you, I'll walk." Perceptor turned around and started heading to the Capital Citadel.

Magnus nodded to Links, a silent instruction to accompany the scientist. Links smiled and started trotting after Perceptor. "Hold up Perceptor, I'm heading that way as well. I'm actually quite pleasant to travel with, provided you're not in my cargo bay."

Magnus and Elita watched the two Autobots walk away before turning their attention to the data pad in Magnus's hand. "Let's see what your 'inside guy' got for us."

Magnus nodded at the suggestion and activated the pad. "There's not much here unfortunately. Rumors, albeit reliable ones according to Punch, concerning some super weapon supposedly capable of wiping out legions and bearing a robotic mode shaped like a modified version of an extinct Earth animal." A grim look came over the face of the large Autobot. "With it, apparently, they'll be able to retake Iacon in hours."

Elita One stared firmly at her old friend. "Then we'd better make sure that they never get this thing up and running!"

Magnus nodded and looked back at the data pad. "Punch left a note on here saying that he'll get us as much information as he can get on the Martial Design and Fabrication sector of Polyhex, whatever that is. He claims that he'll have this to us within the next day or two."

Elita nodded. "Let's hope it's enough for us to get in there and wreak some havoc."


***


Decepticon superiority. Thundercracker had heard the term used countless times by countless Decepticons. And though Thundercracker knew better than to blindly buy into all the propaganda put before him, he knew this claim to be true. Decepticons were superior. No matter what system of beliefs you used to base your view of the universe around, the end conclusion was that of all life forms that Cybertronians had yet encountered, Decepticons were the paramount.

Those that believed that Primus created existence from nothing, then created Cybertron, and then created the various races, knew that there had to be a reason that Decepticons were bestowed with greater strength, speed, ruthlessness and cunning. These gifts indicated a preference from their creator.

Then there were those that held with the myths of the old gods, and with the recent resurfacing of a Guardian and the Pit Lords, these veracity of these myths were now difficult to doubt. These beliefs held that demigods created the different races of Cybertron to perform different functions. The Junkions for waste management, the Lithomechs for education and the nurturing of young organics that they were sold to, the Excavitons for mining, the Autobots for personal and civic duties, et cetera. But the Decepticons were designed to not only handle, but master the most treacherous and demanding duty of all; warfare.

Though by no means 'natural', there is a selection that shapes the evolution of mechanical life forms much the same way that natural selection shapes the evolution of organic species. And the selection criteria for warfare is much more demanding than that of any other task or environment. More was required from the early Decepticons, their very survival and the continuation of the traits that their frames and programming bore was directly related to how they performed in combat situations. Those that were weak, inefficient or inadequate in any way were destroyed, and their models ceased to be manufactured. The criteria for the survival of an Autobot, or that of any of the other lines, were not even a fraction as stringent. The Decepticons were continuously being filtered by warfare, until only the most worthy remained. And from these worthy few, the basis for all modern Decepticons originated.

But despite his enormous pride in his heritage, or his belief in his race's superiority, Thundercracker had never been convinced of Megatron's quest to enslave or eradicate all other life forms. Prior to the war he had thoroughly enjoyed wandering into the communities of other lines, especially Autobots, with a couple of Decepticon friends and relishing in the fear exuded as he walked by. The reputation of the Decepticons as belligerent, impatient pugilists garnered them instant respect, and even attracted some of the Femmes of other lines. And those that didn't offer instant fear and respect were almost always given a brutal reason to offer it up the next time they saw a Decepticon.

No, Thundercracker liked having other lines around, and for those lines to have their own little communities, if for no other reason than to highlight his own greatness. And while he definitely saw the benefits of having slaves, possessions and universal power, he preferred the way things were prior to the war. But that was an era that they could never return to, and he did enjoy killing Autobots and humans, so he readily accepted his role and rained death down upon the four Autobots and two-dozen American soldiers that were pointlessly firing upon PredaKing.

Mirage saw Thundercracker's incoming barrage out of the corner of his left optic, and dove out of the way. "TAKE COVER!" Despite his cry of warning, Ironhide and Inferno unable to avoid the incoming laser fire and each took several hits to their back. Windcharger was fortunate enough not to have been in Thundercracker's line of fire, but the explosions from the impact instantly killed seven human combatants. Thundercracker swooped away before the Autobots could counter attack, cursing the thick armor of the two red robots that he had managed to hit, but apparently not kill as he saw them gingerly get back to their feet.

PredaKing didn't even notice the absence of the shots that had been ineffectually peppering his back for the past minute and a half as he continued his beating of both Superion and Defensor. A right knee to Defensor's mid-section lifted the blue and white gestalt into the air a few feet before gravity pulled him back to the ground. The Protectobot landed on all fours and immediately attempted to regain his bearings. But before that could happen the spiked knuckles of a backhanded fist crashed against the back of his head, forcing him violently face-first into the ground.

PredaKing's right fist continued back in it's follow-through, but quickly halted and started swinging forward and up, timed perfectly to catch the advancing Superion's chin with an upper-cut. The Aerialbot gestalt's head snapped back, and his giant frame, still being pulled forward by the momentum of his charge, fell unconsciously on top of his dazed comrade Defensor. The massive Predacon lifted his right leg into the air and stomped hard onto the back of Superion, pushing the inert Autobot's body into the pinned Defensor. The white and red gestalt's limbs separated into four unconscious Aerialbots as the damage got to be too great, and PredaKing used his foothold to push off and propel himself into the air, his ascent assisted by thrusters in his wings.

Disengaging the thrusters, PredaKing came plummeting down toward the back of Omega Supreme, who was busy battling the other three Decepticon gestalts. A powerful, downward right thrust kick caught the Guardian between his shoulders, slamming him forcefully to the ground. Quickly rising to his feet, PredaKing looked to Menasor and pointed toward the slowly recovering Defensor.

Menasor grinned, nodded and then charged the prostrate Protectobot. The dazed Defensor didn't stand a chance as the Stunticon gestalt stood over him and proceeded to pummel him with punches and kicks. In moments five damaged Protectobots were scrambling to get away from the cruel metal giant.

Omega Supreme swung wildly with his right arm as he made his way back to his feet, hitting Bruticus in the waist and sending him flying back. A right cross to the side of his head from the opposite direction stunned the Guardian for an instant, but he quickly turned toward his assailant, Devastator, and threw a left elbow as he rose that knocked the Constructicon back several steps.

A snap-kick to the small of his back made Omega Supreme lurch forward, but he remained standing and whirled around as quickly as he could. There standing was the fur-bearing gestalt that had given him so much difficulty in the previous battle. The Guardian's left arm was already raised from the elbow thrust that he had given Devastator, so he swung it downward at the Predacon warrior.

PredaKing had been standing with his feet fairly close together, and the moment Omega Supreme's predictable left-hammer strike was started he pivoted on his right foot and swung back and to the left, narrowly avoiding the Guardian's cannon arm as it whipped down in front of him. As he made this evasive move he carried the momentum of his body into his waist, right shoulder, arm and fist, propelling the spiked gray ball into the side of Omega Supreme's head.

The leftward facing head snapped forward, and before he could recover PredaKings left leg had whipped around to the back of Omega Supreme's legs and the Predacon's left arm had gripped the Guardian by the throat and was pulling back to send the giant Autobot falling backwards to the ground. But the strength of the Guardian was such that despite his disorientation, imbalance and PredaKing's superior leverage, he remained upright. Turning toward the biomechanical gestalt, Omega Supreme shrugged off PredaKing's left hand and raised his own claw arm to crush the Decepticon. Unfortunately for the Guardian, at that exact moment Devastator's shoulder slammed heavily into Omega Supreme's chest, sending him flying back over PredaKing's outstretched leg. The orange, gray and yellow giant hit the ground with a thunderous crash, and in seconds all four Decepticon combiners were swarming upon him.

"YOUR SUPER-WARRIOR'S HAVE FALLEN, PRIME! THIS DAY, AND THIS FACILITY, IS OURS!" Megatron's voice carried over the sounds of battle, as Prime turned away from the plight of his last remaining giant and toward his opposite number.

The red Autobot Commander charged between the rows of drums being kept just outside the oil refinery toward Megatron. He had thus far been unable to devise a way to win the battle, though he had faced hopeless situations before and found ways to come out victorious. But he was quickly running out of resources. The Decepticons had won the battle of the giants, the Dinobots were being occupied by more than twice as many Insecticons than the Autobots had known to exist, Jetfire was unable to overwhelm the numerically superior Decepticon jets without the aid of the Aerialbots, and the remainder of his troops just didn't have the firepower to overcome the entrenched Decepticon forces. And once one or more of those gestalts turned toward the smaller Autobots, any chance at victory would dissipate almost immediately.

A shot from Megatron's fusion cannon impacted the ground in front of Optimus Prime, and the ensuing explosion sent the Autobot Commander flipping into the air, his momentum still carrying him toward his enemy. Cursing himself for not concentrating on his attack, Prime struggled to gain control of his descent, to no avail. A right roundhouse from Megatron, the blow impacting against his broad chest and sending the Autobot hurtling in the opposite direction, met prime’s plummet.

Prime skidded across the pavement, and upon stopping struggled to get back to his feet. Through his communicator he heard Prowl's voice addressing him. "Prime, perhaps we should consider living to fight another day. All non-military humans have been evacuated, and we're just not going to win this one."

Prime looked up at the laughing Megatron and nodded. "Agreed. Sound the retreat."

In under two minutes, the humans and Autobots had cleared away from the area, leaving nothing but snickering Decepticons to boast and lay claim to the fuel depot. All communications channels had been opened so that the Autobots and humans could hear the gloating as well, and though by no means an elaborate propaganda scheme, it did have a demoralizing effect on the Autobots and their organic allies.

The gestalts separated so that their component individuals could better assist in the conversion of the plant to an energon producing facility. Swindle transformed and drove out toward some of the drums that had been rolled, thrown or blasted away from the plant during the battle. As he reached the farthest one, he transformed to robot mode and bent over to grab it.

Suddenly a long metal spear imbedded itself within the drum, causing the oil held within to start flowing out. Swindle looked up toward the direction where the spear had originated; ready to sound the alarm to his fellow Decepticons. He held his cries of alarm as he saw a grinning Starscream wink at him, turn, leap into the air and transform. As the F-22 sped away, Swindle reached down and withdrew the spear. As he expected, there was a small data pad attached magnetically to the end of it, which he pulled off, and after looking around to verify that he wasn't being watched, activated it and read. A smile came over the tan and purple Combaticon's mouth. "You've got to be kidding."


***



The facility was as large as it was nondescript. Extending over 200 acres of the former Polyhex manufacturing sector, the main weapons fabrication facility was just a featureless, rectangular, gunmetal gray building that, if not for the dozens upon dozens of guards surrounding the perimeter, one might consider to be just another of the countless unused edifices littering the outer reaches of the planet's capital city. But Counter-Punch, like many other Decepticons, had become familiar with the rumors and speculation surrounding this facility. He had even gotten a few minor details from one of the designers that had been working there, a designer that he had been forced to kill a few hours later.

But the rumors and the general statements from Killjoy were of little to no use to the Autobots by themselves. More detailed information about the plant, and if possible, it's contents would be necessary to fully prepare for or counter whatever the Decepticons had in store.

Unfortunately, not even a loyal Decepticon like Counter-Punch could gain admittance to the facility. After the destruction of the Cooler, security at all key Decepticon installations had been tightened to the point where only the highest ranking Decepticons and personnel relevant to the operations being performed at the facility were granted access. Counter-Punch would have to gather his information from the outside, and at a safe distance of eight miles as not to raise suspicion.

Counter-Punch knelt down on the floor in front of the window that looked over the entire easternmost portion of Polyhex, and raised the binoculars to his optics. Changing the magnification until his view of the facility was as clear as possible, the blue Decepticon began taking in every detail that he could. After several minutes of examination, he raised a data pad to his face and initiated its 'vocal-recording' mode. In Punch's voice, he began speaking. "The facility's exact location and dimensions have been scanned into this data pad. There are three ion-cannons mounted on each of the shorter, east/west walls, and five mounted on each of the longer, north/south walls. There are two-dozen perimeter guards stationed at each corner, and by my estimates, there are another six-dozen stationed inside the facility for reinforcement. I would guess a third to be Seekers, and the rest to be heavily armored ground troops." Counter-Punch shifted his gaze to a small, box-shaped sensory and communications station mounted on the center of the facility's roof. It was adorned with over a dozen dishes of various sizes and pointed in all directions. "The station on top of the facility seems to be equipped with every piece of sensory equipment available, and it looks to have every direction covered at all times."

Counter-Punch stopped recording. He peered one last time at the large facility before lowering the binoculars and slumping to a seated position against the wall. Even the swiftest of Autobots would be detected soon enough to give multitudes of soldiers stationed at Darkmount time to arrive and repel any assault. Perhaps Blurr could arrive undetected, but without assistance there was little he could hope to accomplish. Maybe the Dinobots in organic mode might not be detected, but despite their power, they would be just five against perhaps hundreds. It was hopeless.

The seated spy laid the back of his head against the wall and lazily gazed up through he window above him. He marveled at how dark and empty the sky looked, and suddenly, inspiration hit. Raising the data pad back to his face, he began recording again. "Every direction, except up."


***


The large transport craft cruised through the air, flying just a dozen feet over the surface. Despite receiving word that Megatron had acquired a large cache of fossil fuel, and therefore would be resuming large-scale shipments of energon to Cybertron, Shockwave still felt it best to fly as fuel-efficiently as he was capable of. Sending a transmission would be the most fuel-efficient option, but the facility that he was traveling to lacked any communications equipment. And if everything went according to plan, he would not be returning alone, thus requiring the transport. So Shockwave made the seven-hour trip to the sparsely populated region to the south of Polyhex.

Deep into the Hadecron Sector he flew, until finally spying an ancient metal temple built between two large smelting pools. The walls colored black by the smoke rising from the molten pits, the ominous structure jutted into the sky. The boxy transport lowered to the metal ground, and Shockwave made his way down the gangplank, across the barren ground, and up the long stairway leading to a pair of double-doors that were fifty-feet in height and flanked by two identical statues of a featureless, humanoid warrior that were just as tall as the doors. Shockwave pushed the doors apart and entered the large, dimly lit chamber that lay on the other side.

The enormous room's only illumination came from the glowing liquid metal that flowed in a round smelting moat that circled the center portion of the room. Standing on the metal floor in the center of this moat were six robots who were being watched by another six standing around the outside of the moat, all of whom ignored the approaching Decepticon Sub-Commander.

Suddenly, five of the robots within the ring of molten metal attacked the sixth, a black, powerfully built Decepticon with a helmet and faceplate reminiscent of Optimus Prime's. The black robot's red optics lit up as he effortlessly avoided the attacks, deftly blocking every strike that was directed against him. His large, bulky body gracefully twisting, ducking and weaving through the oncoming adversaries, taking only defensive measures, until his frustrated opponents finally ended their fruitless attacks. The black warrior then looked toward the spectators, including Shockwave, and addressed them. "There are countless fighting forms that can teach you defensive combat techniques similar to what you just witnessed. But it is the offensive capabilities that set Metallikato above all other martial arts." Turning back to the five robots that had attacked him earlier, the black instructor nodded for them to recommence their aggressions.

The robot closest to the instructor’s right side, a slender yet powerful looking white and blue robot with an animalistic-looking alternate mode, threw a left backhand to the black robot's head. The strike, which was easily slapped away by the instructor's left hand, was meant more as a distraction than an actual attack as even before the arm was fully extended, the attacker's left leg rose and delivered three consecutive side kicks, the first at the instructor's knees, the second at the mid-section and the third at the head, and each one was blocked by the quickly moving right forearm of the black robot.

The attacker's left leg sped back to the floor after the three unsuccessful kicks, only to have it's return interrupted by a right snap-kick to the knee. Being knocked off balance, the blue and white robot brought his right forearm forward to protect his head and neck from a possible strike from the instructor. With exceptional precision, the instructor's left palm gently impacted the elbow of the defending arm, while his right hand grabbed the student's right wrist.

The instructor spun around, still gripping the wrist, and to the astonishment of those standing outside the moat, the forearm shell and metal joints came detached at the elbow. The only thing keeping the arm attached were a series of wires, which were easily snapped as the black robot pulled at the arm. His spin complete, the instructor clubbed the blue and white robot in the back of the head, sending him to the ground.

An orange Seeker charged the back of the black robot, but his attack was halted by a rear-kick to his face. Shaking off the blow, the Seeker then looked to see the black robot duck low and thrust both of his hands forward, each striking the point where the hip meets the upper thigh. The Seeker stared down at his legs, and watched as the metal joints buckled and his torso fell crashing to the ground.

A third attacker, a mid-sized, yellow and blue robot, lunged at the instructor, but halted as a loud voiced cut into the room. "ENOUGH!" All optics turned toward the origin of the voice, and all but Shockwave bowed as a powerfully built dark red and green robot entered the room from one of the doors hidden by shadows on the far end of the room. The robot was immediately followed by two others, one robot with a red body and yellow limbs, and another with a yellow torso and green limbs. The three newcomers made their way to the others, and the lead robot stopped before Shockwave. "We have a visitor."

Shockwave nodded. "Hello Bludgeon. It's been a long time."

The apparent leader of the robots dwelling in the temple nodded. "I would guess that you were here to cultivate your spiritual side, were you not completely devoid of one. So I am forced to ask the reason for your presence. You're not planning on sending your mongrels back to complete their training, are you?"

Though philosophically different on many levels, both Bludgeon and Shockwave respected each other for their abilities and their cold, ruthless efficiency; they just did not enjoy being in one another's company. Shockwave shook his head. "Their physical abilities and present level of combat proficiency make the Predacons more powerful than any students that you have ever trained. Having them return here would just needlessly tie them up for countless vorns." The purple Decepticon looked over the other occupants of the Temple smugly. "But I have found a way for you and some of your followers to serve a purpose."

"A purpose other than supplementing the pathetic combat programming and training of Darkmount to a select few Decepticons?" Bludgeon replied tersely.

Shockwave had completely lost patience for the not-so-friendly banter that had just started, and got straight to the point. "I need for you to eliminate the Autobot leadership on Cybertron."

Bludgeon laughed. "Trying to get the house in order before the master's return?"

Shockwave simply glared at the Decepticon. "It would seem that you are not as cut off from the outside world as one would think. Gain entrance to Iacon and kill Magnus and his key lieutenants. That is an order."

Bludgeon scoffed and cocked his head. "As skilled as we are, the Autobot's external security sensors are sure to detect us long before we get into the city."

Shockwave nodded. "I have considered that and found a remedy. Now select your team and return with me to Polyhex."

Bludgeon glared at the Decepticon Sub-Commander before turning to the two robots behind him. "Looks like it's time for us to make some mayhem." The two robots nodded and appeared very eager. Bludgeon looked past them toward the black warrior that had been training the other robots when Shockwave had entered. "Blight, you're with us. You're mastery of Metallikato rivals even my own, and I want you at my side."

The black Decepticon nodded and started toward his master, gently gliding over the molten moat as he made his way. Shockwave scanned the oncoming robot, but like with previous scans done on Bludgeon eons ago when Shockwave witnessed him levitating, no indications of any source of propulsion could be detected. It was without physical explanation, yet the disciple of Metallikato was clearly defying gravity without the assistance of any detectable thrust. "I am honored to serve."

Shockwave turned and headed out of the Temple, the four martial artists following closely behind. Bludgeon quickened his pace so that he was walking next to the purple warlord. "Tell me, Shockwave, what 'remedy' have you devised for gaining our entrance to Cybertron?"

Without looking toward the master of the ancient combat art form, Shockwave replied. "A new technology has been created, utilizing, among other things, the ability of nanites to dampen the electronic signals given off by a host. They will make you practically invisible to scans."

Bludgeon came to a halt. "No! I will not be mutilated and hybridized like an Insecticon or Predacon! I did not volunteer to have organic features incorporated into my body."

Shockwave stopped and turned toward the protesting Decepticon. "Do not worry, you and your troops will undergo no mutilation. Think of the nanites' relationship to your frame as less an incorporation, and more a shell." Reluctantly Bludgeon nodded and continued walking with Shockwave.

 

WOW!!!

Things don't seem to be going well for the Autobots. At least on Earth. I liked the introduction of Links and it's rather obvious as to who he is going to become. And thank you for introducing Bludgeon!!! You sorta hinted at in the last chapter, but now he's here. Though right now I can't figure out who in Hades is the all black transformer. His name is Blight, but there aren't any toys by that name and the way you described his head. I'm guessing of one of two possibilities: 1) You just described the next red shirt to be killed or 2) You just introduced a character from a different "series." I'm leaning more towards #2. If the character had a pink sword then it definitely would have been #2.

Anyways another awesome chapter!!! :

 

Awesome with Bludgeon! For a moment i thought it was going to be RID Scourge for some reason

 

Awesome Awesome Awesome. I have no idea how the Autobots are going to counter PredaKing, and the hints of Paranicon are just too much!

Bludgeon should also rock the house, fantastic job.

 

I should probably explain Blight. I wanted to give Bludgeon a protégé, and while he has two lackies from G1, neither of them are on the same page in terms of discipline and spirituality as he is. So, I decided to make the protégé a new character based physically on Destructicon Scourge - he and Bludgeon made a cool looking pair with their RiD toys. So physically it's Destructicon Scourge (slightly different though as he hasn't been modified to incorporate an Earth vehicle), and the name Blight was chosen because it's synonymous with Scourge, but character-wise it's someone entirely different - there won't be a tie-in to the RiD universe. It's just such a cool looking toy that I thought it would be fun to use it.

Glad you guys like the story.

 

Something I forgot to mention. You made Thundercracker into a deeper character. It wasn't enough that he was tech spec accurate (not convinced of Decepticon cause), but you gave reasons why he felt that way with the arrogance mixed with heritage. I find it all just awesome. I also loved how Links' components are explained too.

 

thats a great explanation!

 

Man, the Autobots are geting their @$$es kicked. I love it.  

Glad to see your introducing a new character that's not just another red shirt (based on your explanation). It kinda takes from the story a bit knowing all these (potentially interesting) original chars won't last long.

Still, this is a great story. Can't wait for the next part.

 

Episode 25: Desires and Conspiracies



"Are you sure that we should be in here?"

The annoyed, but similarly unnerved Venom looked toward Barrage and responded. "We were instructed to come to Razorclaw's quarters and wait inside for he and the other Predacons to arrive. We are only doing what we were commanded to do." The Insecticon leader looked over the other three Insecticons that occupied Razorclaw's quarters with him, and got an uneasy feeling from the eager glow emanating from Chop Shop's optics as they glazed over the mid-sized room.

Suddenly the room’s only door hissed open, and the five imposing forms of the Predacons entered. Razorclaw glanced at the four new Insecticons and nodded. "Welcome. Please make yourselves comfortable." The four other Predacons found seats and relaxed as if they were in their own abodes, and the Insecticons more hesitantly followed suit. Razorclaw, who had remained standing, remained silent as the door slid shut, and scanned the eight Decepticons seated in front of him before finally addressing them. "Each of us no doubt is aware of the special camaraderie that we all share. I have called this meeting together to familiarize the two teams with each other. After all, we are all Predacons here."

"Bah!" Divebomb spat out. "They may be allies, or comrades, or whatever, but look at them." The black, feathered Predacon looked toward Venom. "I'm sure that you're good at whatever it is that you do, but we are the warrior elite, the best the Decepticons have. And you guys...you guys just don't qualify."

Ransack, the only Insecticon that came close to being considered a powerhouse, lurched to his feet and started toward the winged Predacon, who laughed and arrogantly stood up as well. Both Venom and Razorclaw stepped between them and sent their subordinates back to a seated position with a silent glare.

Once finished staring down Divebomb, Razorclaw addressed his objection. "Regardless of their alternate forms, their differing skill sets or how the other Decepticons view them, they are our brothers...they are Predacons. This position is held by both Shockwave and myself, and therefore not open to dispute. Any further aggression involving PREDACON against PREDACON will be dealt with far less patience. Is this understood?" The question was met by silent nods and low, affirmative grunts. "Good. Now, our true loyalty is to the one Decepticon fit to rule the empire, Shockwave. Megatron is an astoundingly powerful warrior, and an excellent battlefield commander, but he lacks the vast cerebral capacity required for effectively running a galactic empire. He would make an invaluable asset as Shockwave's chief lieutenant, but his pride and arrogance are such that he would never accept a subordinate role to any being, and therefore our only option is to remove him...permanently."

The shifty Chop Shop smiled coyly and replied. "Easier said than done."

Rampage, Headstrong, Divebomb and Tantrum sent an icy stare at the Insecticon that dared to talk back to their leader, but Razorclaw nodded and answered Chop Shop's statement politely. "Yes, it is. Eliminating Megatron will be exceedingly difficult, and there will be no room for error. But with Shockwave's guidance it can, and will, be done." The Predacon Commander let his statement sink in before continuing. "Now, I want everyone here to spend as much free time as they can spare getting to know each other. Our common cause has thrust us in a position where we will need to rely on one another, so it is imperative that you get to know and trust your Predacon brothers." Razorclaw turned and walked toward the door, touched the panel on the wall just to the right of it and watched as it slid open. "Dismissed."

The eight biomechanical Decepticons stood and started making their way out of the room. Razorclaw gently reached out and gripped Chop Shop by the arm as he walked in front of the Predacon leader. "Chop Shop, please remain for a minute. There is something that I wish to discuss with you."

The suddenly nervous Insecticon looked from the Predacon, to his confused teammates, and then back at Razorclaw. "Sh...sure."

Razorclaw shut the door a moment later, leaving only he and Chop Shop in his quarters. The Predacon led the Insecticon toward the center of the room and peered outside the port window into the dark, murky depths of the ocean bottom before speaking to his nervous guest. "Relax Chop Shop, I just thought that I would take this opportunity to have us get to know each other." Razorclaw's yellow head turned toward the new Decepticon and mirthfully continued. "That is what we are supposed to be doing after all, is it not?" Chop Shop nodded and Razorclaw turned back toward his window. "I guess that I will start. You see, Chop Shop, I am a warrior. And true warriors care for little other than warfare. As such, aside from my weapons, my possessions mean very little to me." The large Decepticon turned around and faced the reddish brown Insecticon. "But warriors also possess pride, a trait that can drive one to greatness, but which can also bind one to pettiness." Razorclaw waved his right hand in an arc that encompassed half the room. "For example, let's say that four objects that were here this morning were no longer present. I care nothing for these objects, but my pride demands that I make anyone who dares steal from me suffer greatly. That is, unless the one that trespassed against me returned what was taken, accepted the shame that his actions had brought to himself, and requested forgiveness for this transgression." Razorclaw took a step toward his increasingly nervous guest. "So, now that you have gotten to know a little about me, is there anything that you wish to share?"

The terrified Insecticon stared silently at Razorclaw for a moment before finally replying. "Um, yeah, I think there's been a slight misunderstanding here." A compartment in the Insecticon's leg hissed open and Chop Shop reached down and removed four holo-statues from it. "I had gotten the impression that these were public, Decepticon, property, and that anyone could use them."

Razorclaw aggressively snatched the items from Chop Shop without saying a word. He tossed them on a table and turned back to the thief. "I am disgusted by what you have done, but I am more disgusted by the fact that you are not."

"No, you've got it all wr..."

"SHUT UP! I will personally end your existence if I hear of you doing this to another Predacon ever again. And should you do it to a Decepticon, and are caught; I will not lift a finger to help you. I suggest you get your penchant for kleptomania under control." Chop Shop nodded and lowered his head. "Now get out of my sight!" Razorclaw whipped around in disgust and started putting the stolen objects back to where they had originally been. Chop Shop shamefully made his way to the door, turned to say something as the door opened, but decided against it and started walking out. Just before leaving, though, his claw shot out and snatched a hand-held, laser-powered blade sharpener that was lying on a table next to the door.


***


Blaster and Ultra Magnus walked side by side silently toward the launch platform where Omega Supreme was waiting for them. Blaster looked over at his blue, white and red friend and playfully nudged him with his elbow. "I told you it wasn't so bad."

Magnus smiled back at Blaster briefly before returning his gaze forward and answering. "I guess it was fairly painless, and it really didn't change my robotic appearance much at all; though, given that my carrier section is what makes up the outer appearance, and that that section was left only slightly altered by the conversion to an Earthen design, I suppose that I shouldn't be surprised."

"Apparently, big, empty, wheeled platforms are similar the galaxy over." Blaster light-heartedly observed. "So what does the hauler section look like?"

Magnus again looked at Blaster. "Remarkably similar to Prime's. Even my unarmored robotic mode bears a striking resemblance to him now."

Blaster chuckled. "A little red and blue paint and some modifications to your vocal circuitry, and you might just be able to get a joint rinse from her." The Communications Commander pointed up ahead at Elita One, who was waiting in the distance with the newly modified Eject, Rewind, Ramhorn, Steeljaw, Grand Slam and Raindance next to the Guardian's rocket section.

Magnus stopped and whipped around toward Blaster, sending his friend a cold glare. "You think that's funny!?!"

Blaster continued his chuckle, held up his hands and took a step back from Ultra Magnus. "Waow, settle down big guy. The taste may be questionable, but it was just a joke...one that even Prime would probably find amusing."

Magnus shook his head and looked down. "Of course, I'm sorry Blaster, just a little wound up." The Autobot Sub-Commander turned back toward the platform. "And it’s not like I've ever been known for my sense of humor."

Blaster quickly caught up to his old friend and looked quizzically at him. "Maybe, but it's not like you're Shockwave either. We've swapped tons of degrading, insulting jokes over the eons, about Prime, Elita and everyone under the primary star. And this is the first time you've gotten offended. So what da' dealio?"

Magnus shrugged. "I guess...” He looked questioningly at Blaster. "Dealio?"

"Earth slang; something that you'd better start getting used to. But go on."

"Oh... OK, well, I guess it's just that being his second, added to my constant support and emulation of him, and now with my new physical similarity to him, I'm afraid that some may think that I'm trying to become Optimus Prime. That I've finally gotten sick and tired of my own mediocrity and decided to shed my own personality and identity and adopt his. Your crack about making a move for Elita just added to this anxiety."

Blaster stopped dead in his tracks and started laughing uproariously. "That's what you're worried about!?!" Blaster playfully slapped Magnus on the back. "Look Magnus, I've known you for almost sixty thousand vorns, and in that time I've never seen any evidence that you have a personality to shed."

Ultra Magnus shook his head in annoyance and increased his pace to pull away from his amused friend. "I'm so happy that I revealed this to you. It's good to have friends that are so understanding."

Blaster quickly skipped forward and caught up, his laughter continuing the entire time. "What do I look like, a Femme? Were you really expecting me not to make some sort of crack over something so silly?" Blaster stopped laughing. "Look Magnus, Matrix or not, you led us through our toughest time. An eternity of being hunted and starved, and through all that time it was you that kept us together and hopeful. Without you, Prime would have returned after fifty thousand vorns to a Cybertron wiped clean of Autobots." Blaster stopped and gripped Magnus by the left arm. "Trust me, the only one to ever use your name and a form of the word 'mediocre' in a sentence is you. And while I do think that Optimus is the greatest thing since energon, it's you that should be emulated. So put these feelings behind you, 'cause ain't nobody thinks that you are, or should be, acting like anybody else." Blaster released Magnus's arm and slapped him on the shoulder, and the two robots turned back toward the awaiting craft and recommenced their trek. "And Prime is smart enough not to entrust Earth to anyone but the best while he's here on Cybertron. And even when he returns there, he's still going to need the best the Autobot Army has to offer to oversee the new site. It's going to be more important than the Ark, and you're the only one he considers up to the task of commanding it."

"Shut up already. I liked you better when you were insulting me." Magnus chuckled.

Blaster squinted his optics. "Yeah, me too." The red, yellow and orange Autobot thought silently for a moment, then smiled. "You almost had me. I know the real reason you snapped at me back there. It’s because I uncovered your plan, isn’t it? You really were going to paint yourself up like Prime and take that fine lookin' piece of hardware for a private oil bath, weren't you?" Both robots burst out laughing at the obviously ridiculous accusation, but tried to stifle their laughs as they were getting to within audio reception range of Elita One.

Magnus whispered a response while he still could. "Yeah, you found me out. I'm plotting to steal my best friend's girl."


*


It had been twenty minutes since he had been waiting there. Twenty minutes since he had allowed an unfamiliar feeling dictate his actions and make him stand and watch a dilapidated building that had once housed a factory of some sort. Springer watched the roof of the building, hoping to catch a glimpse, or perhaps not to, of the two robots that had entered a few minutes before.

Envy was something that the green Autobot had felt in small amounts on previous occasions. Admiration of somebody else’s abilities, desire to have a weapon or tool that was owned by someone else, but nothing like the pain, anger and longing that had torn up his inner workings at seeing Arcee and Hot Rod walking together through the streets of Iacon together. Every giggle to come out of Arcee made the pain a little bit worse, every cocky smile displayed by Hot Rod infuriated him further. He followed them for over a mile, watching silently from a distance. Hot Rod had led her to this facility, and the two went inside. A minute later Springer watched them reemerge on the roof, and then disappear as they made their way to the center of it and out of his line of vision.

Springer hated himself for having these unwelcome feelings. He had grown extremely close to Hot Rod in the past months, considering him to be his best friend. Even now, despite all of these hostile feelings that he held for the young red Autobot, he knew that he would give his life for him should ever the need arise, and that Hot Rod would do the same for him. Yet, since first laying optic upon the pink Femme Arcee, he had been consumed by a desire to be with her, and an animosity toward any masculine robot that so much as looked at her. Unfortunately, his good looking best friend was spending more and more time with her, and there was nothing that Springer could do about it, nothing, except let these feelings consume him.

Or not. The green Autobot turned away and started back toward the Capital Citadel. He had an appointment to keep.


*


"I wonder what those two were laughing about?"

Arcee broke off her gaze of the Iaconian skyline and glanced down toward one of the spaceport launching platforms where Hot Rod was watching eight Autobots board Omega Supreme. "Who, Magnus and Blaster? Probably just a juvenile joke that you males are so fond of."

Hot Rod twisted on the roof vent of the long abandoned factory that he and Arcee were perched upon to more easily look at her. "Wow, that sounded almost insulting. You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say that you didn't like me." The statement was sent with a smile and an optic flicker.

Arcee did her best to suppress a grin, with marginal success. "You obviously don't know better, because I don't like you. You’re an immature, goofy screw-up who thinks he’s much better than he really is."

Hot Rod's mischievous smile expanded slightly. "Oh, is that so? Well then, why did you agree to come up here with me?"

No longer able to hide her smile, Arcee looked away from Hot Rod and once again out over the city. "I was interested in the view...” She turned back to the red Autobot, no longer trying to mask her amusement. "...Not the company."

Hot Rod stared into her optics for a few moments before responding. "I was thinking of making an observation, but in light of all the grief that you're giving me, perhaps I should just keep it to myself." Still smiling, the young Autobot turned away and looked back toward the distant form of Elita One, who was backing away from the large gray rocket.

Arcee attempted to force herself not to take the bait, but her curiosity got the better of her. "What observation?"

"No, I think you're better off not knowing."

Arcee's optics grew large. "Oh, now you have to tell me!"

Hot Rod adamantly shook his head. "No I don't. Besides, why do you care? Nothing comes out of my mouth except juvenile jokes, right?"

"If you don't tell me, I'll toss you off of this roof!"

Hot Rod turned his head to her and gave a very subtle, close-mouthed smile. "Well then, as I'm under threat of bodily injury, I guess I'd better share." He looked down. "It's really no big deal. I was just going to mention that I had visited the Iacon Museum of Art, which the Decepticons actually left pretty much undamaged, and that I had explored the Great Temple of Primus and checked out the sculptures, carvings, holo-statues and all the other works, and that I have seen recordings of much of the artwork, monuments and great architecture of Earth, as well as images detailing the natural spender of many of it's locations. I've been moved by the beauty of each of these visions...” The Autobot slowly raised his face to hers and once again looked deeply into her optics. His normally playful demeanor completely replaced by a look of utmost sincerity. "...But not nearly as moved as I am by the beauty of your face."

Arcee could only stare in shocked silence at the statement, which had caused a series of unusual sensations to her inner workings. Hot Rod unlocked his gaze, looked down and shrugged. "Like I said, it was only an observation." He looked back up at her, once again smiling, but now bearing a look of vulnerability that he had never exhibited before. "And as you consider me an immature screw-up, I still think you were better off not knowing."

Finally forcing herself to react, Arcee gently placed her right hand on Hot Rod's left hand. "Maybe I wasn't entirely truthful when I said that…and when I said that I didn’t like you."

Hot Rod looked down again, but his smile widened. Quietly, he replied. "Yeah, that's what I figured." He softly rolled his left hand over and interlaced his fingers with hers.


***


The tan jeep bounced over the rocky terrain of the desert and came to a stop under the only object to interrupt the barren landscape, an ancient stone bluff that extended over four hundred feet into the air. "I know that you've verified what I informed you of to be true, otherwise you would not have come." The voice came from the shadows at the base of the bluff, and from out of those shadows stepped the Decepticon renegade, Starscream.

The tan jeep transformed into Swindle, who had not seen the former Air Commander, but whose scans had detected the winged robot some time ago. "Oh, I'd have come, but I'd have brought some friends with me."

Starscream smiled. "I'm very thankful that your greed outweighs your thirst for vengeance."

"There's no profit in personal revenge." Swindle returned Starscream's grin. "But others seeking revenge have made me quite wealthy in the past."

"And in the present as well. I must confess that I have sources that have confirmed that an associate of yours has already taken possession of the energon and weapons cache that I gave you the directions and pass codes for."

Swindle nodded. "Yes, your information was dead-on. And the amount is more than enough to get my little side-business up and running again."

Starscream laughed. "The largest underground arms operation in Cybertronian history, a little side-business? You always were a master at downplaying your position."

A broad smile came over Swindle's face. "You'll probably be seeing less of that in our dealings for the foreseeable future."

"Oh, and why is that my dear Combaticon?"

"Because quite frankly Starscream, it's pointless for me to make any attempt to hide the fact that you will be paying an unbelievable premium for anything you buy from me, and unnecessary for me to do anything to make that fact any less unpleasant for you."

Still in a humorous mood, Starscream responded. "Why Swindle, what kind of customer service is that?"

"I'm the only one in the universe willing to deal with you, and even if that weren't the case, I can still offer you what nobody else can. Add that to the fact that I'm harboring a great deal of personal animosity towards you, and that I'm taking an amazing risk by even considering doing business with you, and I’m led to the realization that I can service you any way I damn well please."

Starscream nodded, his smile still stretched broadly across his face. "I see, though I think you're over-exaggerating the risk you face dealing with me. Megatron would certainly punish you, but I doubt that he would destroy a component to Bruticus."

Swindle smiled and shrugged. "Maybe, but I find soldiers and weapons in war to be something like products on the market. Products that are currently very much in demand usually quickly lose a great deal of their value once a superior product hits the market. The new and improved Predacon brand of gestalt has suddenly made me far less valuable to Megatron."

Starscream looked down, chuckled inwardly, and looked back up at the arms supplier. "Megatron may find that the Predacons aren't as consumer friendly as he thinks."

Swindle held up his hand to stop any further words from coming out of the Seeker's mouth. "On that note, I think we should get down to business."

A look of mock confusion came over Starscream's face. "Why the sudden anti-social stance?"

"Because I know you. You thrive on planting dissention within the ranks to undermine your opponents. And quite frankly, I just don't feel like putting up with your slag right now."

Starscream's mouth twisted upward. "Fair enough. So, what has my hidden stash bought me?"

Swindle raised his left arm and a small compartment slid open. With his right hand he withdrew a data pad and held it before Starscream. "This."

The smile immediately vanished from Starscream's face. "That had better have the location of an orbital attack craft programmed into it."

"No, it directs you to nothing. It simply contains data."

Starscream's face curled into a snarl. "Is this some sort of insipid joke!?!"

Swindle's face displayed no sign of humor. "Actually, I said that you would be paying a premium, so I will need the location and pass codes for another of your hidden sites, one that has a bounty of equal or greater value than the one you've already given me."

"I SHOULD KILL YOU WHERE YOU STAND!"

Swindle raised his hand again, this time to calm his enraged customer. "Trust me, you will find the data on this to be well worth any price paid. And don't let my disdain for you fool you; I still value you greatly as a customer. Just a preliminary investigation into Tarn’s finances indicates that you kept vast portions of the city-state's coffers hidden from Megatron. And the way that you made the finances disappear in the records was brilliant." Swindle displayed a sly smile. "But I know a thing or two about cooking the books. So, needless to say, I know that you still have a tremendous amount of wealth, a large portion of which I plan to get out of you."

Starscream relaxed somewhat, but was still clearly irritated. "So what could that disc possibly possess that's worth two of my nest-eggs?"

Swindle smiled. "Something that one of my contacts in the weapons design field procured for me. Let's just say that with this, you'll no longer be reliant upon Megatron's space bridge for intergalactic travel."

Starscream's anxiety immediately dissipated, and pulling out a data pad of his own, he smiled and began entering the information of another facility housing some of his stashed wealth.


***


"Alright, shut up!" The three Autobots ceased their joking around as the elderly physician entered the infirmary and stood before them. Once the room was silent Sawbones continued. "Better. Now, I've conducted physical and psychological evaluations on all three of you, and despite some of the findings, and my better judgment, I've decided to proceed in performing the modifications."

"What did you find in our evaluations that make us less than ideal for the procedure?" The question came from the enormous Broadside.

Sawbones cackled. "Well, let's see. For starters, I've got a big goon, who's afraid of flying and who's internal workings can't fully compensate for the erratic movement of aquatic surfaces, wishing to take on aerial and sea-faring modes. His desire to do so based solely on the case of the Aerialbot Squad Commander who seemingly has overcome a similar fear of heights by being forced to confront his fears head on. Of course, the big goon in question...and in case you were wondering, I am talking about you...has failed to realize that there may be countless other physical and psychological aspects figuring into Silverbolt's success. But hey, if you are willing to be a test subject in a procedure that will give me more fame and glory, then more power to you."

Sawbones then looked toward the orange-yellow frame of Sandstorm. "Then there's test subject number two, who's somehow managed to get the term 'death-wish' included on every single performance evaluation that he's ever received. The sanity of this individual is questionable at best; his current platoon commander has even gone so far as to claim that this request to undergo an experimental procedure is just another attempt to look death in the optic and laugh."

The elderly physician then turned toward the powerful green form of Springer, who had only just arrived a few minutes ago. "And last, and perhaps least, is a whelp that has personally been a pain in my posterior for more vorns than I can accurately count. I would categorize this subject as a perfectionist with an obsessive desire for self-improvement to compensate for a low self-opinion, if not for the fact that he's an ego-maniac to boot." A concerned look came over Sawbone's face. "Are you sure you want to do this kid?" He then looked at the other potential patients and realized that despite his personal affection for Springer, his professionalism required him to treat them all equally. "Are all of you sure? This is a technology that is new to Autobots, and I've heard some appalling horror stories concerning the early Decepticon test subjects. Rumor has it that even with the successful cases, the procedures were extremely painful." The physician shook his head. "While I'm sure that I understand the details of the modifications, there's still a great deal that can go wrong."

Springer smiled. Now, more than ever, he was certain that he needed this upgrade. "Yeah, we're sure we want to do this, you grumpy bolt-dispenser. We've considered all the possibilities, good and bad, and despite OUR better judgment, we actually have the utmost confidence in your questionable abilities."

Sawbones pursed his metal lips and nodded. "Alright then, you wanted to be first, so get your frame on the slab, kid."


***


"Six, you say?" Bludgeon peered intently at the large, metal canine face of the inert quadri-pedal frame in front of him.

Shockwave, who was standing several yards back with Bludgeon's three disciples, nodded and replied. "Yes."

Bludgeon turned away from the work-in-progress and back toward the Decepticons waiting for him outside the room. "I am all for technological advancement, but this is bordering on playing Primus."

Once Bludgeon had joined them in the brightly lit hallway, Shockwave turned and started leading them further into the primary engineering facility of the Martial Design and Fabrication sector. "No such entity exists."

"Godless heathen." The venomous words emanated out from behind Blight's faceplate.

Shockwave continued walking, but twisted his head over his left shoulder to look at the black Decepticon. "While I have no problem being characterized as such, your tone was one of an insult." The Decepticon Sub-Commander twisted his head the other way, toward Bludgeon. "I thought keeping your troops disciplined was a priority with you?"

Bludgeon nodded. "Blight's outburst is unacceptable, and I will deal with him later for it. But I must admit being just as put off by your atheism as he was. A being without faith usually is without a moral code. And there is no greater threat than a being devoid of any sense of morality." Shockwave displayed no outward indication of his annoyance, so Bludgeon decided to press further. "Also, it has been my experience that those unable to accept the existence of a supreme being often see themselves as such. Is this the case with you, Shockwave?"

The words 'not yet' flowed through the mind of the purple war machine, but he was smart enough not to vocalize them. Instead he just turned his head forward and continued marching down the hall. "I have grown weary of this discussion. I did not bring you here to discuss your simple superstitions and philosophies; I brought you here to help prepare you for your assigned task. I welcome all discussion that pertains to that topic. Anything else will not be tolerated."

The robot with a red torso and yellow limbs standing to the left of Bludgeon nudged the powerfully built green-limbed robot to his own left and whispered. "I told you he was manufactured without a spark, Stranglehold."

"Shut up, Octopunch!" Bludgeon's command achieved instant silence and fear from his subordinate.

Shockwave ignored the exchange and led the four Decepticons to a large room near the end of the hallway. They walked inside and preceded toward four slabs, each of which was one and a half times the size of Shockwave. Four lab technicians approached the newcomers, and the tallest of them spoke. "Welcome lord Shockwave. The manufacture of the devices has been completed, and they are ready for insertion and activation."

Bludgeon stepped up and stood before the scientist. "I do not trust Shockwave, and therefore believe that there may be some risks that he failed to inform us of. If that is the case, you had better inform me of them now or I will seek the most painful of vengeances to inflict upon you."

The terrified Decepticon looked to Shockwave, but unable to read anything from the nearly featureless face, turned back toward Bludgeon, shook his head frantically, and stammered. "No, no. This is only a slightly invasive surgery, with absolutely no side effects. There is no risk."

Bludgeon nodded. "I believe you." The martial arts master then turned toward Shockwave. "If these 'shells' can dampen our energy emissions the way that you claim, as well as provide the other benefits you mentioned, then we will begin our hunt of the Autobot Commanders immediately after the procedure."

Shockwave nodded. "Excellent."


***


"They're definitely on our half of the field." Eject's whispered statement was met only by the silent nods of his comrades.

"They must assume that Blaster is still on Cybertron and that none of the Autobots on this planet would be able to detect them with this pathetic electronic cloak engaged." Rewind replied, trying to keep his black frame low to the ground an out of sight.

"Silence!" The unspoken order came through a secure Autobot channel. "It's not like our cloak is that good either.” Blaster looked away from the two robots that he had just silently silenced, and peered through the yellow camcorder that he held to his right optic. Utilizing both it's magnifying capability to better see, and it's recording capability, Blaster and his team needed to find out what Soundwave and the others were up to and present what they had discovered to Optimus Prime when they returned to the Ark, a scant seven miles away. He stretched out across the grassy hill that he was laying on, careful to keep as much of his frame from poking over the top of the hill and being exposed to the seven Decepticons that they had discovered so close to the Autobot base of operations.

"I'm not sure what ol' Soundwave and his posse are up to, but I know that whatever it is, it can't be good." Again, the comment wasn't verbally spoken, but sent via radio waves to the other Autobots accompanying him, Eject, Rewind, Ramhorn, Grand Slam, Raindance, and Steeljaw, who was currently in alternate mode in Blasters palm. The large red Autobot continued watching as the Decepticons began assembling a small structure with the pile of assorted metal parts that they had with them. Upon seeing a satellite dish, Blaster smiled sardonically and sent another silent message. "Yeah, I should have figured as much." Blaster slid back down the hill with all the stealth he could muster, placed the camcorder down several feet away from him, and silently addressed his team again. "Looks like these shmoes are setting up a surveillance station." As Blaster delivered his message, the camcorder enlarged and transformed into a powerfully built robot bearing a design based on a large, predatory feline. "As tempting as it is to engage these guys ourselves, we should probably head back to the Ark and let Prime decide how best to deal with this."

A few quiet grunts indicated the disappointment of the group, but they all knew that it was the correct course of action. But correct or not, the lithe, black robotic jaguar snarling at them from the top of the hill was not about to let them sneak away and perform it. Blaster turned and looked up to see Ravage spring at him, barely getting his forearm up in time to keep the metal jaws from clamping down on part of his head. Ravage's teeth sank into the armor on Blaster's forearm, but before the Decepticon could really tear into the Autobot Communications Commander a yellow blur had torn him away. In a flash the two metal cats were slashing and biting at each other, their savage battle carrying them away from the other Autobots.

"No uninvited guests!" Reflector burst from over the hill and started firing on Blaster, who was sent tumbling down the hill after just having leapt to his feet. Buzzsaw and Laserbeak shot overhead and started strafing the Autobots, but the mechanical raptors were immediately joined in the sky by Raindance. And while outnumbered, the flying Autobot was fast and maneuverable enough to keep the metal birds occupied.

"BACK OFF!" The charging red, rhino-shaped, robot forced Reflector to turn his attention away from the downed Blaster. The Decepticon Surveillance Commander fired repeatedly at the quadri-pedal robot, but the shots had little effect on Ramhorn's thick armor.

Soundwave, Frenzy and Rumble neared the top of the other side of the hill just in time to see the tip of a red horn burst through the center of Reflector's back. The still-charging Autobot drove the gored Decepticon, screaming in agony, down the side of the hill. The three humanoid-shaped Decepticons considered how best to assist their severely injured comrade, but could only jump out of the way as Reflector was helplessly driven past them.

Upon reaching the bottom of the tall hill, Ramhorn finally stopped. Planting both of his front hooves securely on Reflector's waist, he jerked his head violently upward, tearing his horn, and vast amounts of metal and circuitry, from the Decepticon's chest. Reflector immediately went off-line, whether due to stasis lock or termination was something that his Decepticon comrades would have to wait to find out as Eject and Rewind came charging over the summit, blasting away at them.

Frenzy and Rumble were instantly sent to the ground with scorched and punctured armor, but Soundwave withstood the barrage and fired back, forcing the small Autobots to dive for cover. The large blue robot started marching back up the hill, intent on exterminating the two small creatures. His optic shifted upward as he took a moment to monitor the progress of his two fliers, noting with pride that they were quickly putting the Autobot glider on the defensive. That was until a shot emanating from the other side of the hill clipped Laserbeak in the left wing, sending his plummeting to the ground.

Soundwave's plodding march quickly shifted to a sprint, but just as he reached the top he was tackled by his opposite number. Even prior to the war, Soundwave and Blaster bore a great deal of animosity toward each other. Their similar designs, nearly identical occupations and drastically differing personalities led to a great deal of unfriendly competition. Once the Decepticon push for planetary conquest began, Blaster was one of the first voices to suggest armed opposition. Soundwave and Blaster immediately found themselves embroiled in a propaganda war, and once the Autobots organized, it only got all the more bitter.

The two giant robots battered each other with unbridled fury, unloading thousands of vorns worth of pent up hatred. But it soon became apparent that while Soundwave may have been Blaster's equal in terms of communications skills and functions, he was not quite on the same level in terms of hand-to-hand combat. Blaster lay upon his blue enemy, struggling to get a grip of Soundwave's wrists. Quickly succeeding, Blaster forced the secured arms to the ground and snapped his head downward with incredible force, slamming his forehead hard into the center of Soundwave's optic. The blow had the Decepticon immediately stunned, and Blaster capitalized by releasing his grip of Soundwave's wrists, hoisting his body up to sit on his foe's chest, and unloading on Soundwave's head with punch after punch.

Ravage watched as his creator was quickly being pounded into oblivion. The situation was about to get worse as a small tank rolled over the hill from above and the red rhino was returning to the fight from below, leaving the inert and mangled form of Reflector laying at the bottom. Ravage deftly evaded a swipe from Steeljaw's left fore claws and bounded for his master, sending the command to retreat over a secure Decepticon frequency to the rest of the team.

Soundwave managed to shove Blaster off of him, and scramble away, gripping a hold of Ravage's neck and letting the feline drag him away. Buzzsaw swooped down and collected Laserbeak, and Rumble and Frenzy broke off their respective brawls with Eject and Rewind.

The Decepticons managed to regroup over Reflector's shattered frame. Soundwave sent repeated scans into the downed Decepticon's frame, but each came back with the same results. No cerebral activity and no spark energy being given off. "Reflector: Terminated."

"Yeah, well let's get the slag outta here before we join him!" Frenzy wasn't known for having good ideas, but this was one of those rare occasions when he suggested the appropriate course of action.

Soundwave fired several shots at the Autobots before taking to the air. "Decepticons: Retreat!" The Decepticons took to the air and headed southwest toward their underwater base hundreds of miles away.

 

AWESOME!!!!

I thought this was gonna be one of those filler stories. No major battles, but just a continued moving of the plot. You're definitely sowing the seeds to some even better stories. First of all the conspiracies. The Predacons appear to be taking a more aggressive stance in terms of their agendas. That bit with Chop Shop was hilarious. Swindle's dealings with Starscream are staying true with Swindle's character. While he may harbor a grudge against Starscream he's smart enough to know that he's going to be one hell of a customer and he knows how to deal with Screamer and his ways of planting dissension in the ranks. I also like the interplay between Bludgeon and Shockwave. It makes Bludgeon a bit more of a deeper character by showing him as one that is as spiritual as he is deadly. Last, but certianly not least is the battle between Blaster and Soundwave and their tapes. That was just way awesome. What really shocked me was you actually killed off a main character. Even though, Reflector was never really a major player in the Decepticons.

 

Awww....such a sweet scene between Hot Rod and Arcee. Gonna have to remember that next time I see my gf.  

Other than that, King Starscream summed it up best. Great work.