Transformers Version 2.0

can't be too long now, most are absolutely sick of him.

liked the new chapter Petey, I liked the resolution of what has happened to Bumblebee.

things are certainly coming to a head though on all sides. I just hope the nextchapter doesn't take 6 months

Great Chapter as always Petey....thanks for continuing the tale.

Episode 58: Deepest Fears




"The recreation facility is the silver building two blocks to the west of the building we’re in now. Just exit through the north entrance, go left, and you’ll be there in seconds." Arcee recognized the voice, one that had completely regained the lightness and joy that used to define it, coming from down the hall she was about to turn into and her spark fluttered a little, though she was able to keep the smile coming to her face a bit subdued. She shouldn't feel this way, things had been over with Rod for many months, and things were going great between her and Springer. Perhaps she was just overestimating her happiness at knowing Hot Rod was just around the corner. After all, they were still close friends. Friends were always happy to see each other, right?

"Oh, uh, thanks. It's very nice of you to take the time to help me with something so menial. I mean, you’ve got to have a lot more important things to do than offer directions." The feminine voice stopped Arcee in her tracks. She didn't recognize the identity of the speaker by her voice, though she was able to tell that she must be young and watched a great deal of human television given her usage of grammar and slang common to American teenagers on popular contemporary shows. But it wasn’t the liberties taken with proper English that aroused a bit of Arcee’s ire, it was that the tone of the Femme’s voice was clearly a little too doting, almost adoring. Whoever it was, her interest in Hot Rod extended well beyond mere directions, assuming her request for the location of the rec center was anything more than an excuse to talk to Rod. Arcee reached the corner and leaned against the wall. There was no denying to her that she was eavesdropping, but it wasn't due to jealousy. No, she would be happy if Rod moved on with someone, wouldn't she? No, this was...entertainment. Yes, entertainment. Wouldn't Springer or Spike listen in on this conversation only to rib Hot Rod about it later? Of course they would. And that's all Arcee was doing now, wasn't it? "I mean, you're like the most important Autobot on the planet...on any planet really. I mean, yeah, Optimus Prime might outrank you, and he's great and all, but come on. You killed Unicron. Unicron!"

Arcee twisted her head and positioned it so that she could see down the hall, exposing only the tiniest portion of her face. Fortunately Hot Rod and the Autobot Femme he was talking to were oblivious to her presence. Arcee recognized the Femme as Amber; a soldier brought on line a couple of months ago and who arrived on Earth a week before. The name was an obvious reference to the color that adorned over eighty percent of her frame, but Arcee found it to be appropriate more for the fact that it was a common name for human strippers. Prior to that moment Arcee had felt nothing for the young Femme other than camaraderie and protectiveness, but inexplicable feelings of animosity came surging forward now that she watched the gold-hued Femme smile alluringly at Hot Rod. What a hussy! Fortunately Hot Rod was too smart to fall for something so blatant, wasn't he?

"Uh, look, I'm nowhere near the most important Autobot on this or any planet. In addition to Prime, I answer to Ultra Magnus, Elita One, and quite frankly, were Kup to bark at me to jump I'd be quick to ask how high. And I didn't kill Unicron." Hot Rod smiled sheepishly as he tried to deflate the young Femme's opinion of him, though it almost appeared as though he welcomed Amber's attention. "The Matrix did all the work, I merely held on to it. And as it turned out, Unicron appeared to survive that little showdown."

"Maybe, but you saved Cybertron." Amber countered with a look of awe in her optics. "And you are the most important Autobot on Earth at least. I mean, you were a Prime."

"So was Ultra Magnus, an Autobot who outranks me, has infinitely more experience, who led the Autobots when anyone one else would have given in and either surrendered or died. He was Prime for a lot longer than I was, and I might add is not only on Earth, but somewhere in this very building." Hot Rod continued with his attempts at bringing her opinion of him down to a more reasonable level, with little success. "Believe me, I'm just a grunt that the Matrix took a shine to, that's all...uhm, I'm sorry, but what was your name?"

What? Arcee couldn't fathom why he would care what her name was. Perhaps he was just being nice. He always was very kind to others; it wouldn't be out of character for him to provide a small indication of interest to a young Femme who clearly had a crush on him.

"It's Amber." The attractive Femme tilted her head downward and smiled sheepishly before raising her head just enough to lock her yellow-green optics with Hot Rod's. "And you're much too modest." She lowered her gaze once again as she paused. "And much too sweet."

Well, being nice was fine, but it was time for Hot Rod to end this. Arcee was certain he would politely excuse himself and leave this hero-groupie-wannabe. He couldn't possibly be interested in her after all.

"I'm really not that sweet. All I've done is give you directions, something even Grimlock would do...well, something Grimlock might do." Hot Rod smiled at the clearly smitten young Femme, whose optics rose back to his from her still slightly tilted head, her previously embarrassed grin taking a slightly seductive quality. "Really, I'm just a normal, typical guy." Arcee suppressed a laugh at hearing this from one of the cockiest Autobots she had ever known. Of course, selling himself when the sale was already landed did seem unnecessary, but it still seemed very out of character for the brash young Hot Rod. "Just ask anyone who knows me."

Amber's smile broadened, her head raised and she took a step forward, placing a hand playfully on Hot Rod's chest. "I'd like to get to know you." Hot Rod’s mouth started to stretch into a nervous smile as the electricity in the air seemed to accumulate with each passing second.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Hot Rod and Amber nearly jumped at the sound of the voice coming from down the hall, and turned to see a clearly irritated Arcee standing there with her hands on her hips.

The suddenly terrified Amber stepped back away from Hot Rod as she stuttered an answer. "Uh, n..nnn...no Maam. I'm off duty right now."

"And the best way you can think of to spend your down time is to harass senior officers?" Arcee snapped.

"Arcee..." Hot Rod raised his hand as he attempted to diffuse the situation, but was startled silent by the glare Arcee delivered his way.

"I will refrain from interfering in your disciplining those under your command, I don't think it is too much to expect you to offer the same consideration." Arcee nearly snarled at her former lover before returning her attention to Amber. "Well?"

"I was...I was just asking Hot Rod where the rec center was." Fear was clearly etched on Amber's facial features. "That's all."

"Really?" Arcee smirked condescendingly.

"Yes, really." Hot Rod shot back, fully recovered from the momentary intimidation and now possessing a look that equaled, if not surpassed the look of anger Arcee had displayed to him.

Arcee met Hot Rod's glare, and was fully intent on tearing him a new exhaust port. How dare he step in here? They were clearly in the wrong, weren't they? Were they? Arcee deflated a bit and considered what she was doing. Yes, Amber flirting with Hot Rod and going so far as to make a sort of intimate physical contact while he was on duty was inappropriate. But did it warrant such a reaction? Was Arcee's reaction one appropriate for a superior officer, or did it seem more in keeping with a jealous ex-girlfriend? A valid argument could be made for the former, but it was clear to all three of them that the latter seemed to be more the case. As this realization came to the forefront of Arcee's mind she noted that her look of defiant scorn had faded away as well. While not her intention, her face had seemed to involuntarily taken on an apologetic look to Hot Rod's hard glare. She looked away from Hot Rod and back toward the still very intimidated Amber, screwing her face into an authoritative, but no longer menacing visage. "I take it you know where the rec center is now?"

"Yes Maam." Amber timidly answered.

"Then why don't you spend your down time there?" Arcee more than suggested, and watched as the younger Femme beat a hasty retreat. She then slowly turned back at the irritated Hot Rod, not relishing what would undoubtedly come next.

"What the slag was that all about?" Hot Rod growled.

If Hot Rod was fishing for a mea culpa, he was in for a surprise. Arcee kept her features stern for her reply. "I turned the corner and found a senior officer entertaining the less than subtle advances of a new recruit. Forgive me if I found that to be incredibly inappropriate on her part, and unprofessional on yours!"

Hot Rod's metal lips thinned as they pressed tightly against each other. His reply came back quietly, but firmly. "You seemed to find it less inappropriate and unprofessional when it was happening to you."

"What are you...” Arcee stopped herself as she remembered, quite fondly, a brash young Hot Rod vying for her attention. Attention she was more than happy to devote to him. "That was different." She seemed to shrink under his intense gaze, a gaze that was both intimidating and arousing at the same time. "And if there were similarities, then perhaps we should have been reprimanded." Her answer lacked conviction, but she did her best to maintain a look of defiance. "I've gained a different perspective on things since then."

Hot Rod stood silently for several seconds, keeping a steely lock on Arcee's optics before finally responding. "I'm sorry to hear that." With that the red Autobot started marching toward Arcee, clearly intent on walking past her.

As he started to pass her, she reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping and spinning him so that he faced her. "Are you telling me that you consider the behavior displayed by the two of you to be proper?"

Hot Rod looked down and focused on Arcee's hand, which was still tightly gripping his arm. She blanched at the realization that she both grabbed him, and had thus far refrained from releasing him. Surprised at the effort required on her part to break physical contact with Hot Rod, Arcee finally released his arm and tried to maintain her own look of professionalism. Hot Rod, whose face was devoid of expression, looked from Arcee’s slightly trembling hand up to her optics. Several more seconds passed before he answered her question. "In retrospect, I suppose the exchange possessed inappropriate elements on both our parts. Amber's flirtations are mitigated by her youth and inexperience, and I consider the dressing down you gave her to be much more than sufficient punishment for being forward." Hot Rod's optics narrowed and his voice took on a slight growl as he continued. "I will be greatly dismayed should I hear of you pursuing anything more against her." He gave Arcee a moment to let that sink in before continuing. "Now, should you wish to issue a report on my actions, then so be it. I will do nothing to interfere, and I will deny nothing that has taken place here. In fact, should you need any clarifying details for your report, I'll be happy to provide them. But for now, I believe we're done here." The former Autobot Commander turned and continued marching down the hall.

Arcee was taken aback partly by the undercurrent of venom in Hot Rod's voice, but more so from the emphasis added to the last five words to leave his mouth, and their true implication. "Hot Rod, wait." Arcee watched Hot Rod turn the corner that she herself had been perched behind when this had all started a minute or two before. She jogged after him. "Hot Rod, wait!" She followed him around the corner, caught up to him, reached out, grabbed his arm again and spun him to a stop so that they were facing one another. "Stop!"

Hot Rod jerked his arm free. "Slag it Arcee, what is this all about?" The red Autobot's blue optics glowed intently. "What do you want from me, an apology?" Arcee peered longingly into Hot Rod's optics, but her look was misinterpreted by the Autobot, who considered it more of the intensity that had been fueling her since making her presence known to him and Amber. "Well Javert do what you need to do to make it right, but do it through the proper channels! I'm done with you!"

Hot Rod turned again to walk away, and was once again grabbed by Arcee and stopped physically. "What? What is it with you?" Hot Rod was now yelling into Arcee's pleading face, her resolve long since washed away leaving only a look of hurt and vulnerability. "What is this all about?" Hot Rod turned and faced her squarely, eliminating his attempts to leave and planting his feet in front of Arcee, fully intent on waiting for her to answer.

Arcee stared into his optics, but looked away as the blue orbs seemed to communicate more than she could handle without causing her to break down. "Nothing…" her voice barely more than a whisper. "I overreacted."

She turned and started to walk away as Hot Rod's hand reached out and gently grabbed her arm to stop her. He allowed her to face the other way, but kept her from moving away from him. "What's going on Arcee?" He asked gently.

He knew. He probably knew the moment he first heard her voice snarling from down the hall. "I was jealous." Arcee's emotionally hurt facial features forced a smile as she realized the manipulative jerk had played her into confessing to him what she had successfully managed not to admit to herself. At least she didn't have to look at him. She felt his grip melt off of her arm.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" He asked, his voice as soft as she'd ever heard it.

"Yes." She whispered, lowering her head, which was still facing away from him. "But it's no excuse for reacting the way I did."

Hot Rod's light chuckling danced gently in her audio processors. "No, but it's nothing compared to what I put Springer through when he told me about you guys."

Arcee smiled, though her head remained facing down. "Yeah, he told me."

Hot Rod gently pulled Arcee's arm, slowly rotating her around so that they once again faced each other. He then placed a finger under her chin and raised her head so that she was looking up at him. "How we ended wasn't...right. Some things have been resolved since, some haven't, and some likely never will be. And because of that, feelings are still very raw. I'm glad you and Springer are happy, but I'll admit, I miss you, and it's painful to think about you with someone else." A slight curl formed on the left side of Hot Rod's mouth. "Maybe I'm being arrogant, or overly optimistic, but perhaps you feel the same way?"

Arcee smiled and tried to look away, but Hot Rod's finger under her chin prevented it. "I do." She reached up and cupped her hand against his cheek. "We were something special, weren't we?"

Hot Rod nodded, a big smile forming as he peered deeply into her optics, but the smile faded as he realized something. "And you and Springer; are you guys something special?"

Arcee's dancing optics lost much of their luster as her smile vanished much the way Hot Rod's had. "Yeah. Yeah we are." She shrugged. "It's different, but it's...definitely special."

Hot Rod offered a weak smile. "Then give that a chance."

Arcee's optics fluttered a bit before she moved in and embraced Hot Rod in a very meaningful, yet platonic embrace. "Amber was right, you are too sweet."

Hot Rod broadened his smile as he rested his cheek on the top of Arcee's head. "Can I construe that as permission to date her?"

Arcee squeezed him a little tighter. "Not if you value your life." She was joking, and hoping desperately he was too.


***


"Please, assume a position on the couch that allows for maximum physical contentedness." Perceptor waved the yellow Autobot toward the metal slab with one end bent upward in a gentle incline.

"Couch?" Punch questioned as he entered Perceptor's personal lab and took a seat on the piece of furniture.

"It is a fixture of human psychiatric offices, or at least, a fixture of stereotypical psychiatric offices." Perceptor answered as he sat behind his desk. "I've been told that the psychiatrists that do not utilize fixtures of these sorts in the treatment of their patients are quite numerous."

"Whatever you say Doc, and for the record, I am not a patient." Punch corrected. "I was told that this was merely an informal talk, nothing more."

"And it is, I assure you." Perceptor replied. "You are not by any means my patient, nor am I a certified psychiatrist, though I have accumulated more information on Cybertronian, human and Nebulan psychology than virtually any other living being. No, this is merely an opportunity for you to unburden yourself of the pent up feelings that you have undoubtedly been collecting over the vorns spent in the Decepticon ranks. Of course, should this prove to be beneficial to you I would be more than happy to continue these sessions as often as you feel necessary. And I assure you, anything you choose to say to me will be held in the strictest confidence."

"Really?" Punch asked incredulously. "I figured that since Prime insisted on this little cry fest he'd be expecting a report on what I wound up crying about."

"Actually, Optimus Prime was acting on a suggestion from Hot Rod." Perceptor mentioned. "Though Prime did think it to be an exceptional idea."

Punch looked at the wall and nodded. "Makes sense. The kid spends most of his life on Earth, watches their news reports, so when he sees me kill a small animal he figures I'm one step away from serial killer."

Perceptor peered with interest at the spy. "I assume you're referring to the need to kill Ratbat while rescuing Hot Rod?" Though Punch gave no indication of even hearing the question, much less one that would appear to be an answer to it, Perceptor guessed his assumption to be correct. "I assure you, that is not the case. The fact is that given your assignment, some form of emotional and psychological support should have been available to you from the beginning."

Punch chuckled at this suggestion. "Time was I could count on one hand the number of people aware of my assignment. The only one of those with any significant degree of medical training of any kind was Sawbones, and he was a little busy keeping countless Autobots alive to listen to me whine about how I hated being a Decepticon." Perceptor listened intently to the words, but his focus was suddenly more on watching Punch's facial features, the few that were visible anyway. The spy displayed great intensity for a moment before lightening up a little. "Assuming I really did hate being a Decepticon."

"And is there reason to assume otherwise?"

Punch glanced up at Perceptor. "Strictest confidence?"

"Yes."

"At first, I despised every moment of every day that I was in their ranks." Punch related after a few quiet moments. "Sawbones tried to replicate some stereotypical Decepticon personality traits into my neural net, the part that would be accessed upon completion of my secondary robotic transformation, but it was nowhere near sufficient to prepare me for the culture shock. The biggest aspect was the complete and utter disregard of any worth held by life. Even the most levelheaded of 'Cons placed no value on life; they merely viewed killing and allowing to live, even when applied to other 'Cons, from a fairly strict risk-reward perspective. If they came across someone else, the first thing they'd do was consider killing them. With other 'Cons the consideration was immediately discounted as there was typically no gain and potentially great risk, but the thought still arose. Every time, and that's with the most reasonable of the breed. Most were willing to takes risks with no reward other than the joy of killing. Took me years to finally realize this was going on in all of their heads. Going in I figured some, heck, most were like this; but every one of 'em? It took awhile to fully wrap my head around the fact that every single one of them would be a murderer given the right opportunity. The trait was universal, to varying degrees of course, but each one desired to kill on some level."

"And what changed your initial revulsion of them?" Perceptor asked sympathetically.

"Oh, I'm still repulsed by this trait. Repulsed by a lot of traits common to the ‘Cons." Punch answered. "But to be honest, you get used to the...if not the mindset, then the environment. The behavior. The chaos. It's as though, I can't think of a perfect example, but I guess you could liken it to a human, perhaps a member of an eighteenth century European royal court or some sort of high society, being taken in by pirates for several years before finally returning to his previous life. He may never fully consider himself one of the pirates, but after years of living as one of them, returning to the royal court would bore him to tears."

"So you find the time spent with Autobots to be boring?" Perceptor pressed.

"Absolutely." Punch didn't hesitate at all, but was a bit more reserved when clarifying. "I mean, it's a nice break from the chaos of the Decepticons, especially since Galvatron's taken over, but I find I'm almost missing the tension and cruelty. Time spent with Autobots just seems so, inane, so...bland. Everyone's so nice it's sickening, even the ones other Autobots consider to be jerks are painfully friendly compared to what I'm used to. I was genuinely distraught when I heard that Sunstreaker died, not because I knew him or liked him, I didn't. But if and when we ever truly beat the 'Cons and Counterpunch could be retired permanently, Sunstreaker...well, to once again reference humans, Sunstreaker represented a sort of methadone to help me transition into a Decepticon-free life. I start to miss the sadistic chaos of Decepticon life, I could always spend a few hours with Streaker. I guess I need to find a new methadone."


*


A small section of the luminescent surface of the Sea of Iacon parted as the head of Snaptrap pushed its way into the dry air, the Seacon leader's optics scanning the area ahead of him thoroughly. Security was tight, very tight, but far from insurmountable. The wall surrounding Iacon had been in various states of disrepair for millions of years, especially this section that cut through the sea, but it had been repaired to perfect condition in recent years. Of course, Snaptrap’s team would have little difficulty penetrating it far below the surface without making their presence known, but it was still one of the many obstacles that they would have to contend with; one of the easier ones.

The Autobots were aware of the existence of a Decepticon underwater team with gestalt capabilities, but the only Autobots with first hand familiarity of the Seacons and Piranacon were dead. Surprise could still be an advantage, one, which combined with Seacon fury and savagery and the strength of Piranacon, could lead to a successful breach into Iacon. The point of such a breach was nothing more than mindless destruction, Galvatron's main motivation lately, but at least they were utilizing some degree of stealth this time. In fact, though woefully inadequate, this endeavor at least had some degree of planning, a rare treat these days. The Seacon leader had never served under Megatron, but from what he had heard of the former Commander, he, like nearly every other Decepticon, sorely longed to. But for now he served Galvatron, so he had better set upon the task assigned to him.


*


"I see." Perceptor effectively hid the concern he was feeling. "You doubt your ability to leave the Decepticon life behind cold-turkey."

"Is summarizing a version of what I just said the key to psychiatry on organic worlds?" Punch asked with annoyance clearly in his voice.

"Actually, yes, pretty much." Perceptor smiled. "The goal isn't to give you answers as much as to help you find your own." The scientist noted his patient's lack of amusement and decided to go in a different direction. "You have expressed you disdain for many of the more noticeable Decepticon traits, but are there any traits, or individuals that you feel affection for, or at least respect?"

Punch pondered the question seriously for a moment before answering. "Affection? No, not really. Respect. Hmmm. I certainly have tremendous respect for some of the abilities I've seen displayed, but upon realizing the good that could have been done had those abilities been channeled in a more beneficial direction, well, I guess this sort of realization actually lowers the amount of respect I have for these individuals as...individuals." Punch squirmed and shifted uncomfortably on the metal couch. "I mean, with his mind, physical power and charisma, imagine the good someone like Megatron could have done. Naw, even with all his formidable traits, he and the other Decepticons make me sick." Punch cocked his head, as if a thought that countered the statement had just entered his mind.

Perceptor noticed the uncertainty, but decided to continue on, perhaps to get back to it later. "Yet you have indicated that you will likely miss their company should they ever be defeated."

"I suppose you could liken it to Stockholm syndrome." Punch offered. "I may not like them, but I've grown to understand them, see things from a Decepticon perspective, adopted a Decepticon sense of humor. Hell, I even get a thrill from killing them that I never got before this gig, back when I was shooting at them from the Autobot lines. Not just exhilaration of being in battle or on the job, but a real sense of anticipation prior to and satisfaction afterward." The spy paused for several moments, his posture and movements clearly displaying an internal struggle. "I am personally responsible for the premeditated murder of over one million dormant Decepticons. I assume you know that." Punch noted Perceptor nodding. "This wasn't a case of feeding them false intel that led them into a trap, or divulging to Prime troop positions that led to a Decepticon slaughter. No, I actually received clearance and talked my way into the largest stasis facility in Cybertronian history, one filled nearly to capacity, joked with several Decepticons I came across, planted a bomb, left, and waited to see the mushroom cloud. And to this day, I’ve yet to be troubled by it."


*


Snaptrap looked over his five troops, each in beast mode, quietly dismembering the Autobot security squad that had been patrolling the section of shoreline they had chosen to enter onto. It would only be moments before the Autobots would be aware of something being amiss, most likely due to one of these corpses failing to check in, but regardless of the reason, the Seacons had to act quickly. They had to have the explosives prepared and affixed to the predetermined section of the wall in mere moments. "That's enough, we don't have time to be creative, just make sure they're dead and come on!" The Seacon leader ordered in a hushed tone.


*


Perceptor could only peer silently and supportively at the troubled robot as deeply suppressed emotions slowly ebbed their way out. After several seconds Punch finally continued. "When Omega Supreme passed the orders on to me, I questioned them, not because of any revulsion on my part, but because I didn't think Prime would ever issue such an order. Turns out I was right, Prime didn't issue that order, but it didn't matter. What little hesitation there was on my part wasn't based on any sense of moral reservation. I...I realize that I should have, and would have followed through with the destruction of the Cooler as ordered, but the fact that I wasn't bothered at all by having to kill so many in their sleep...It makes me wonder sometimes whether I'm still an Autobot pretending to be a Decepticon, or if I've been altered by my time in their midst into a Decepticon who's pretending to still be an Autobot."

"I doubt there's a soldier in the Autobot Army who's loyalty Prime and Magnus trust more than yours." Perceptor attempted to reassure the troubled hero.

"Yes, as long as they keep me occupied with brutal and deceptive tasks that lead to high body counts, they can count on me. Tasks that Autobots would shun, but that I, and any other Decepticon, would relish in performing." Punch countered. "Take away opportunities for killing, and an Autobot rejoices while a Decepticon despairs. I won't know for certain until it happens, but I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be dancing in the streets when I have a civilian life thrust upon me."

"Whatever happens when hostilities cease permanently, you can rest assured that we will devote every resource available to ensure that you can cope with your new life." Perceptor insisted. "Whatever doubts you may have, do not doubt that." The scientist noted that Punch appeared to be both exasperated and spent, so decided to revisit his indecision about lumping all Decepticons into a category beneath his respect. "A few moments ago you seemed uncertain about your dismissal of all Decepticons. Was there a possible exception on your mind?"

Punch was a little startled by the change of direction, and chuckled before answering. "I was thinking of Cyclonus. The guy is smart, displays excellent leadership qualities, has more physical tools than I can even imagine, and while he's cold, ruthless and without mercy, I don't think he'd actively seek an entity’s death unless it served some sort of purpose." The spy shrugged. "His only real failing is that he's insanely loyal to that maniac Galvatron. Of course, that is a huge slaggin' failing." The laughter returned. "Get this, on their way to the pointless and doomed attack on Cybertropolis he points out, in the most diplomatic of ways, the pointlessness and foolhardiness of the attack, and gets the slag kicked out of him for his efforts. Galvatron tells him to go home, and while the other Decepticons in the contingent get their fenders handed to them, Cyclonus runs across a massive fuel convoy and single-handedly captures it. It was enough to keep us...the Decepticons, fully fueled for a month. That includes Trypticon and Scorponok too." Punch leaned back as his chuckling subsided. "Beaten and disgraced, Cyclonus still does more good than Galvatron with dozens of Decepticons at his side."

Perceptor became slightly alarmed. "Is the acquiring of this new fuel cache something we need to be concerned with?"

"I've informed the brass, and they've got their optics lit for any activity, but it's not like I'm able to give them much warning with Galvatron in charge." Punch explained. "With other leaders there were plans made out ahead of time, plans I could feed the Autobots prior to their implementation. But Galvatron flies by the seat of his purple metal pants. That crazy noggin of his generates some insipid idea and he immediately goes about enacting it, dragging our unfortunate fenders along with him into whatever doomed endeavor he's flying headlong into. We sometimes don't even know what the objective is until the ordinance starts flying, so there's not much chance of me providing advance warning." BOOM! An explosion in the outskirts of the city rocked the small lab. Both Autobots jumped to their feet and made their way to the door. "See. It's been less than three hours since I left the other 'Cons, and in that short period a previously non-existent bug has flown up Galvatron's tailpipe and prompted him to butt his and every other Decepticon’s head against our outer wall."

"How do you know that's what's transpiring?" A doubtful Perceptor queried, following Punch out the door and into the hallway.

"Trust me."


*


The hole in the perimeter wall was more than sufficient, and Piranacon was doing an excellent job of repelling the Autobot defenders, but it wouldn't be long before more reinforcements than the gestalt could handle would be arriving. And in order to avoid detection, the Decepticon attack force had to position itself a great distance away. It was a race to see which reinforcements would arrive first. Fortunately for the Seacon gestalt his Decepticon comrades came pouring through and over the punctured wall at that moment. Though all but Galvatron viewed the attack as a fool's errand, one that would likely lead to many casualties and gain them little or nothing, they all fell upon the Autobots with great enthusiasm.

Galvatron flew to the forefront and landed, hands on his hips and grinning wildly at the approaching Autobot reinforcement approaching and throngs of civilians fleeing. Despite his insanity, he created an inspiring image, one that reminded his troops of the early Galvatron. The fully fueled Decepticon attack force eagerly met and overwhelmed the first wave of Autobot defense, pushing their way well into the Autobot city-state. The need for speed and stealth had proved prohibitive for the inclusion of Scorponok and Trypticon, but the other Decepticon super-warriors were in attendance. "Constructicons, Stunticons, Combaticons, Predacons, Terrorcons, Monstercons; all teams merge and join Piranacon in annihilating the infrastructure of this accursed burg!" Galvatron bellowed over the sounds of battle and panic.

The special teams were more than happy to comply, and in moments all six giants were tearing through structure after structure, causing incredible destruction and loss of life. PredaKing leapt and swiped his sword through the center floor of an imposing skyscraper, igniting his thrusters to keep him aloft long enough to punch above the cut and sending the top half of the building toppling down onto smaller buildings and a street filled with fleeing civilians. Galvatron's rage at the presumption of the 'new government' had not subsided after their defeat outside Cybertropolis, and his thirst for carnage and chaos still needed quenching. The Predacon gestalt would help him quench that thirst for now; his desire to kill Galvatron would once again have to wait for another time. Unlike the previous attack, this one was quickly winning over the approval of the majority of Decepticons. An attack on their leader before their optics was not something worth pursuing at this time.

Over the dust and smoke, PredaKing caught sight of the advancing Autobot forces. This group wasn't just a few squads of reinforcements; this was the bulk of their army here on Cybertron, including Omega Supreme, Sky Lynx, the Technobots and Aerialbots. The Decepticon approval of this attack would likely change as hundreds of Autobot soldiers and their giants entered the fray. Oh well, it was a challenge PredaKing was up to, and for those Decepticons that wouldn't be able to handle it, well, that was their problem.

Galvatron saw the advancing Autobot throngs shortly after PredaKing did, and grinned at the thought of the upcoming maelstrom of violence. "Yes, come. Come and meet your destruction!"

"Autobots, our top priority is the safe withdrawal of the civilians and wounded soldiers!" Optimus Prime announced over an Autobot channel as he sped toward the increasingly ravaged section of Iacon's outer region. He targeted Menasor in the distance and fired every weapon mounted on his trailer, each round impacting the upper chest of the Stunticon giant. Menasor stumbled backward and fell to the ground as his feet got snagged up on the remains of a building. "Sky Lynx, Omega Supreme, remain in your respective space craft modes for the time being and attempt to draw their giants back away from the populated areas. Aerialbots, Technobots, make your way to the front lines, but hold off on uniting to your respective combined forms for as long as you can, or until the area you're in has been cleared of civilians. Once you're in a position to merge, do so and do everything you can to push the Decepticon forces back. All other Autobot squads perform tasks related to Iacon Defense Scenario Gamma! The opportunity to recapture the majority of Decepticons may present itself at some point today, but for now I want them out of populated areas more than anything else. Make it happen!"

"Prime, I've been waiting for a rematch!" Galvatron flew over the destruction and made his way to the oncoming Autobot leader.

A pair of pit-fire missiles launched from a speeding Jetfire impacted against Galvatron's upper back and sent him crashing to the street below. Prime slowed enough to transform to robot mode, jumped and allowed his trailer to form armor around him, and his fifty-foot armored frame sprinted down the street toward the Decepticons. Galvatron started to push himself out of the impact crater his crashing frame had made, but Prime's giant foot stomped powerfully down on the back of his head mid-stride and slammed it back into the rubble. "Keep waiting!" Prime continued on toward the battle, leaving an injured and humiliated Galvatron to deal with the waves of Autobots in Prime's wake.

As several valiant Autobots pounced on the downed Decepticon leader, Prime charged out at Sixshot and Cyclonus. They were close enough to each other for him to engage both, and with Galvatron tied up for a little while at least, taking the Decepticons' second in Command and Sixshot, who could be considered their greatest asset present, out of the battle would be a blow difficult for the invaders to recover from. Sixshot caught sight of the charging Autobot Commander and transformed to cannon mode, firing on the giant red leader. To the amazement of all watching, Prime twisted effortlessly out of the way of the multiple blasts and returned several volleys of his own which blasted the multi-changer into the building behind him. The stunned Cyclonus leapt to the air and fired upon Optimus Prime, but was once again surprised at the armored robots amazing reflexes. The armor seemed to affect his movements no more than moderate clothing affected those of humans.

Prime returned fire into the sky, one round each bursting against Cyclonus's left wing and right leg. The Decepticon dropped to the ground as Sixshot's armored vehicle mode blasted out of the building and sped toward Prime with rifles spitting relentlessly. Prime's armor held as he returned fire, his ordinance slowing and eventually stopping Sixshot, forcing him to transform to giant wolf mode and lunge at the Autobot. Cyclonus got his feet under him and lunged as well, both tackling the Autobot legend to the ground. But while their combined efforts would typically easily overpower Optimus Prime, with the enhancements offered by the battle armor, Prime flung each of them off of him and against the wall of another wrecked and deserted building. Sixshot leapt to his feet and twisted to face the Autobot, but caught a massive fist to his face just as he turned around. The force of the blow sent the Decepticon super-weapon blasting out the backside of the window, destroying several interior walls in the process. Cyclonus made the mistake of watching Sixshot hurtling backward through the structure, and by the time he turned his attention back to Optimus Prime it was too late to avoid the right snap-kick that impacted against his entire torso and sent up upward through the bottom four floors of the building before he burst out the back and started his plummet back to the metal ground.

Elsewhere, a Lithomech educator named Bralla led her class of juveniles through the street, doing everything she could to keep her charges safe from both the battling warriors and the stampeding civilians. She had gotten them out of the small schoolhouse minutes before the Decepticons had decimated it, but they were a long way from being safe. She ushered them as well as she could through the crowded street, buddying the Lithomech students up into pairs and moving as quickly as she could safely shepherd the two-dozen youngsters into moving. Keeping them together amidst the chaos and panic was nearly impossible, but like with all Lithomechs, the purpose of Bralla's existence was to ensure the safety and well being of these juveniles, and she would meet whatever challenge she needed to so that her charges were safe and secure.

Bralla kept the throngs of panicked civilians from trampling her children, and she kept the class together, never once losing sight of any of her students. But there were some threats that even a devoted Lithomech Femme operating with utmost maternal protectiveness was no match for. Monstructor jogging through the street was one such threat. The gestalt slammed into buildings and stomped down on the hordes trying to escape the violence, his horrifying laughter echoed against the decreasing number of buildings that had not yet been knocked down. He particularly delighted in watching his victims deteriorate under his touch, listening to their cries of agony as their bodies painfully disintegrated to the point of no longer being able to sustain a spark.

The monster couldn't imagine anything better until he caught sight of the twenty-four mechanical children with large heads being herded through the chaos by the Lithomech Femme. A growled laugh flowed out of the cruel metal beast as he lifted his foot off of the partially, yet terminally crushed and decayed frame of a screaming Incindermech and started toward the retreating class. Bralla looked up to see the ferocious gestalt focusing on them, and screamed out to her students. "Children, run! Run now! Don't look back!" She called out before turning to make what she knew to be a futile stand.

Monstructor's laughter grew louder than thunder as he watched the slender eighteen-foot Femme face him down to defend the smaller Lithomechs. Raising his right leg to cripple, but not yet kill the insipid creature, the bestial giant started angling his foot to come down on her legs and lower torso. The attack was thwarted by a lunging Omega Supreme tackling the Monstercon out of the street and into some buildings, the structures collapsing down upon the two warriors but fortunately not into the street with the civilians. After a few stunned moments, Bralla quietly thanked Primus for the intervention, turned and ran after her class.

The Guardian climbed to his knees and swiped away at the dust and debris that was keeping him from catching sight of his enemy. He felt the beast before seeing it as Monstructor jumped on him and began using his caustic powers to wear away Omega Supreme's armor. The giant protector swung at Monstructor with his cannon arm, heavily damaging the Decepticon's front torso armor and several internal structures, but the beast clung to the large left arm, refusing to release the bear-hug he had on the top portion of rocket, not until after nearly a minute his arms had burned almost entirely through the thick gray appendage. Omega Supreme shook him furiously, but the Decepticon only came loose when Omega Supreme's arm snapped off below the elbow, sending both Monstructor and the amputated limb flying through the wall of another building.

Omega Supreme ignored the pain and straightened to his full height, peering down through the rubble at the Decepticon gestalt laid out in the remains of a not-entirely evacuated building. Both the Guardian and the monster snarled at one another, Monstructor crunching up to get to a standing position and Omega Supreme making his way toward him, using great care to avoid damaging an area where civilians might still be seeking shelter. The careful placement of his steps greatly slowed Omega Supreme down, and the careless and savage Monstructor was on his feet and flinging himself at the Guardian. But Omega Supreme had anticipated such a course of action, and sent a powerful jab directly into the upper chest of the gestalt, sending Monstructor flying backwards toward the street. The densely populated street. The street where the Lithomech children had just been.

"No!" Omega Supreme bellowed as this realization set in. Fortunately Monstructor managed to land on his feet, but the force of the blow causing him to stumble backwards. The creature reached out and gripped the top of a short, one-story building right before he would have fallen backward onto the street below. The Guardian was already running toward the gestalt, and saw to his dismay the numerous Lithomech children and various other civilians running practically underneath Monstructor's back, directly into the path of where the monster would fall if either the Decepticon's grip or the rooftop's stability were to fail. Monstructor's great strength would ensure his grip would remain strong, but the chemicals, energy or whatever corrosive aspect oozing from his left hand and eating away at the metal rooftop ensured that within a few seconds he would collapse to the street below, crushing and disintegrating anything below, including at least half of the Lithomech students. The Guardian would not allow that to happen.

Omega Supreme reached out just as the metal of the roof crumbled under Monstructor's grasp and clamped onto the gestalt with his thick orange pinchers, stopping his fall after just a few feet. The children on the street froze with panic, looking up at the dreadful image of the giant monster being kept above them by the grip of the legendary Guardian, a grip that was quickly getting weaker due to the caustic effect of Monstructor on Omega Supreme's claws. Lacking his other arm, and off balance due to the need to lunge quickly toward the Decepticon, Omega Supreme could do nothing but pray the children would run out of harm's way before the integrity of his claws wore down to the point where he could no longer keep the gestalt aloft.

"Run!" The giant hero called out to the frozen children. Some seemed to shake themselves out of being frozen and moved away, others were dragged by Bralla, but there were still at least four who could not or would not move from their prone position, optics affixed to the back of the giant hovering above them. "Move! Children, move!" The panic in Omega Supreme's voice was thick, and followed by hideous laughter emanating from the vile Decepticon currently clutched in his quickly evaporating claws. "MOVE!" A thunderous roar of laughter from Monstructor followed Omega Supreme’s frantic scream, the Decepticon raising his arms over his head and slamming down on the crumbling metal of the claws gripping his chest. "Nooooooooo!" The Guardian's cry echoed over the devastated cityscape as he could only watch the Decepticon plummet down onto the four children. The same sentiment was called out by the equally horrified Bralla as she sprinted to get the last of her children out from under the falling beast, but after getting the first group she could grab to safety, she was simply too far to get those that remained. The force of the tremor-inducing impact sent her flying back, skipping across the ground.

Off balance, Omega Supreme fell as well, but was able to twist away from crushing anything important beneath him. The moment his frame hit the ground, the Guardian pushed himself up to a standing position with the gray stump of a forearm and moved frantically to push the hysterically laughing Decepticon away from those pinned beneath him. Unable to grab, Omega Supreme clubbed Monstructor away from the impact crater and peered down despondently at the tiny crushed and melted bodies below. He was a Guardian. His function was to defend. He failed. These thoughts repeated in his mind as others rushed to drag the remains out of the hole, the hopelessness of the situation clear, as after each quick evaluation medical attention was deemed useless. As Omega Supreme stared with quiet intensity at the dead children, it slowly dawned on him that there was another spectator, one for whom the events were eliciting cruel laughter.

The Guardian raised his head and stared intently at the now-standing Monstructor, who was gleefully enjoying the despair that he had caused Omega Supreme and the various others who had fruitlessly come to aid the children. Something snapped in the Guardian, and primal feelings of rage and hatred fueled his enormous body as he drove it into the gestalt. The slam sent Monstructor hurtling back into destroyed buildings. A clawless arm clubbing up and down upon him drove the Monstercon through the remains of the buildings, through the street, and dozens of feet into a quickly forming crater before the monster lost cohesion and six Monstercons lay in varying states of disrepair.

Omega Supreme snarled as he glared down at the much smaller robots. Four of them started to talk, but whatever they had to say, whether threats, taunts or pleas, were cut short by Omega Supreme's renewed bludgeoning. Wildfly was pulverized into the rubble by the first blow; his comrades stared in shock at his mangled corpse before scrambling to escape. Birdbrain crawled to the edge of the crater before he was clubbed to metal and oily pulp as Wildfly had been. The remaining four cleared the crater and started to make their getaways, but Slog and Bristleback had been crippled by injuries sustained to Monstructor prior to disengagement, and Omega Supreme had no difficulty driving his foot down on Bristleback, smashing his spinal circuitry and other vital internal processes, providing Bristleback's spark with a slow, lingering death as opposed to the instantaneous doom that had befallen Wildfly and Birdbrain.

Slog stared up at the vengeful Guardian, expecting his own death at that moment, but Omega Supreme turned and set after Scowl and Icepick, who would certainly have gotten away if he had taken the time to deal with Slog. Scowl and Icepick, lacking the sense to separate to split the Guardian's attention, both turned to see the giant bearing down on them. Scowl's optics darted frantically for a place to hide while Icepick engaged his pretender shell and prepared for battle. Omega Supreme reached forward, pointed the stump that also served as the tail end of his rocket, and engaged thrusters at full blast onto the two Monstercons. Scowl's frame melted to slag in moments, but with the aid of his pretender shell, Icepick held on for almost a minute before his frame collapsed to a puddle of molten metal as well.

Omega Supreme straightened to his full height and turned back to where Slog had been. The area was evacuated, but Omega Supreme caught jerky movement out of the corner of his right optic. He turned to see Slog limping into the street, engaging his pretender shell, and grabbing a civilian Autobot Femme with the spikes on the end of his arms, using her as a shield against the indignant Guardian. "Stay back, ya' slagger or I'll gut this broad!" Omega Supreme remained motionless, merely glaring hatefully at the monstrous red hostage taker. "That's right, ya' big mook, you do as I say! Now twist your arm around your back and keep that flame-thrower pointed as far away from me as possible! Now!"

Omega Supreme nodded and began to comply, running his right arm over his hindquarters and up along the small of his back. Slog watched the arm move as he started jerking backward away from the Guardian, pulling his hostage along with him. It wasn't until it was too late for him that he noticed Omega Supreme's head had rotated one hundred eighty degrees and the cannon on the back of his cranium now taking aim. A bright blast was the last thing Slog saw as a focused laser round punctured through the bestial facial features of the nanite shell and into his robot cranium beneath. The Femme hostage had her left shoulder and the left side of the back of her head scorched, but was released by Slog and otherwise unharmed. The traumatized frame of the Decepticon monster involuntarily stumbled backward, a horrifying display of jerking and spasms as it instinctively tried to keep itself from falling. Considering the distance between Slog and his former hostage to be great enough, the Guardian switched ordinance to explosive rounds and proceeded to pepper the Decepticon repeatedly. After several moments the giant finally ceased firing, leaving an obliterated corpse in the street with nanite flowing off of him and forming a reddish puddle around the charred metal body.

Omega Supreme's head rotated back around and he watched the lifeless frame for a moment before turning his head slightly to watch the Femme fall to her knees and scream in pain and fear. In the distance he noted with diluted interest that the Autobots under Optimus Prime's command were routing the disorganized and now demoralized Decepticons. It wouldn't be long before Galvatron's forces were driven out, captured or killed. It offered little, if any, solace for the ancient protector.

Almost involuntarily, Omega Supreme's head rotated back toward the area where Monstructor had fallen on the Lithomech young. Whatever hope he had held for survivors washed away as he noted the Lithomech Femme who had been watching the children tearlessly bawling over four small, covered frames. He had failed. Failed. He could not protect them. They were dead, he could have saved them had he been better, but he had not, and they paid the ultimate price for his inadequacy. He wallowed in his own self-loathing for several moments before noticing the glares; the terrified and hateful glares of the civilians. He had tried to be their protector, he had tried to keep them from harm, in recent months he had even had the gall to try and be their friend. He now took stock of the way that the dozens of fearful citizens stared at him; the mixture of fear and disdain was familiar to him. Prior to his battle with Omega Titanus he had seen this look every day of his life. Now, eight million years later, it was back.


***


It had been over two hours since Outer System Probe 12487 had ceased transmitting, so OSP 11592 was dropping out of its super-luminous flight to standard propulsion a few hundred miles from 12487's last known position to investigate. The reason for 12487's failure to continue communication was clear as small charred pieces of its remains floated in the vicinity. The cause of the probe's destruction also became clear as 11592 took in the image of nine enormous warships patiently waiting in the outskirts of the Cybertronian system. 11592 managed to transmit the image before it shared 12487's fate.


***


Carly's sleeping eyes sprung open at the sound of the telephone's ring. Like with most wives of soldiers in combat zones, the sound of the telephone ringing frequently sent shards of terror up and down her spine. Her hand shot toward the white device resting on its recharger, but hesitated for a moment. At the fourth ring she finally forced herself to grab the phone and push the speak button. She peered at it from arm's length before the distant sounds of General Ambrose asking if she was there finally prompted her to bring it to the side of her head. "Yes General, I'm here."

The man must have heard the apprehension in her voice, or had enough experience to know the first thing to say to a military wife awoken in the middle of the night by a phone call. "Don't worry Carly, this call isn't about Spike. Last I heard, he and his unit were doing fine." He smiled on his end as he heard the woman exhale deeply and whisper her thanks to God. "Though this call is very far from good tidings."

"I thought the Decepticon attack on Iacon had been repulsed hours ago." Carly replied, confused and still not fully awake.

"It had. This is something else." Ambrose paused a moment. "An Autobot satellite detected Jhiaxus's fleet in the Cybertronian system. We have to assume an attack is imminent."

It was then that Carly noticed the activity outside her apartment in the outer region of Autobot City. Pulling herself out of bed, she walked over to the window and pulled the curtain aside to look toward all the activity taking place a few miles from the heart of the city. "It looks like the Autobots have made the same assumption. They're converging on the spaceport, probably to head home and prepare a defense."

"That's exactly what they're doing. It was Ultra Magnus that informed me of this situation. He's returning to Cybertron with every Autobot except Grapple and Metroplex. The only reason Grapple's staying behind is so that he can finish retrofitting Metroplex with rockets so that they can launch him into space, get him through a wormhole and then get him to Cybertron. Every indication is that this will be the big one." The General explained. "I stressed to him the importance of getting Optimus Prime out of harms way, which he agreed with and said he'd do what he could, but we both realized that Prime will likely insist on being on the front lines."

"No, he can't! Earth's survival is contingent upon Prime's!" Carly frantically shot back. "General, please exert whatever influence you can to get Optimus Prime away from combat."

"Carly, you know nobody has enough influence over him to get him to abandon his troops." Ambrose calmly informed her.

"Then sir, please, at least order the Cyberwolves back to Earth." The frightened wife and mother pleaded. "They can't do anything up there against Jhiaxus's forces."

"I'm sorry Carly, I can't do that either." Ambrose replied. "Jhiaxus has all but declared war on Earth. Your husband and his team are soldiers, soldiers not just defending their country's interests, but their world's survival. However bleak the situation seems for him, his presence can potentially provide us with many potential benefits. I cannot call him back. I...I'm sorry."

"Please." The woman whimpered.

"I'm sorry. I was hoping to avoid this subject."

"Then why did you call?" Anger now entered the woman's weeping voice.

"As Ambassador to Cybertron you needed to be made aware of an impending invasion. That's the official reason. I also called so that you could begin putting into place a plan to get Daniel and yourself off the grid should things go badly." The General answered. "Earth falling may be unavoidable, but if you two were to disappear before that happens then you might just avoid Jhiaxus's personal attention."

"I...I need to go." Carly hung up and collapsed on the bed. She needed to contact Spike, but at that moment she just couldn't do anything other than hug herself and cry.


***


Custodex peered from weary yet excited optics as the senators began filing into the governing chambers. Saloria was already seated next to him at the front of the vast room, sending him quizzical glances from time to time. She could sense his excitement; anyone who looked at him could sense it. The excitement was a fairly recent development. Up until a few hours ago he had been consumed by physical exhaustion mixed with emotional dejection. He had spent the last several days working on the new government's constitution with the absolute minimal amount of rest.

The vast majority of the document was nothing unusual; modeled off of that of the old constitution and various bits taken from governments of Earth. It was actually rather tedious putting all of it to screen, at least until it came to laying out the measures to ensure a lasting peace. As soon as it came time to construct the Pax Cybertronia, Custodex seemed to channel otherworldly forces as the words passed through him and into Cybertron's destiny. The Co-Consul had no doubt that the Oracle had once again been influencing him, using him as a conduit to see that the will of Primus be fulfilled.

Everything had been so euphoric as he constructed the final addendum of the document, every aspect of the newly constructed proposals seemed so perfectly logical, he was bewildered why it had not come to him or any other Cybertronian prior to that moment. It wasn't until later, when his perceived link to the divine and the euphoria that accompanied it had worn off, that he took another look at the proposals and realized that their passage would be virtually impossible. They were far too ambitious, what many, if not most of the other Senators would consider being too extreme. Custodex and his followers could see that these measures were completely reasonable and absolutely necessary, but the majority of Cybertron was still on the fence regarding the warring parties; at least they were with the Autobots. Custodex began to despair at the realization that he had communed with the divine only to produce a peace accord that would meet with rejection.

That was when Chroniclax barged into Custodex's personal chamber, more excited than Custodex had ever seen his biographer. Though initially irritated at being confronted in a moment of doubt and weakness, Custodex's curiosity at Chroniclax's excitement allowed him to tolerate the intrusion and hear the robot out. Chroniclax initially attempted to describe some events that had recently occurred in Iacon, but soon ceased his attempts and switched on a view-screen and tuned into news reports that were conveying the events more accurately than he could. It took a few minutes for Custodex to take in the ramifications, but his spark was soon pulsing with glee. He had been given what he needed to pass his proposed legislation, and he had nobody to thank but those who would soon cease to exist because of it.

Not all of the Senators had arrived to this hastily called emergency session, but more than enough were here for Custodex to begin. Two absences that Custodex had actually been hoping for were Skids and Kranix. They were undoubtedly dealing with the aftermath of what had occurred in Iacon a few hours before, and their failure to attend would make for the necessary presentation a much smoother one. The last of those entering were soon seated, and with his broadest grin, the lead Consul stood and addressed the Senate. "Greeting Senators, thank you for making it to this session. I apologize for the haste in which it was called, but I assure you, this is something that I am certain that none of you would want to wait for. Currently being downloaded to each of your consoles is the final draft of my proposal for Cybertron's Constitution. It will take a great deal of time for each of you to thoroughly evaluate this document, so I will allow you to do so and we will reconvene in four days for the ratification vote. But I would like to take the time now to discuss the merits of a series of non-amendable laws in the section dealing with the enacting of a stable and lasting peace. I have entitled this section The Pax Cybertronia."

The Senators jacked into their respective consoles and skimmed to the proposals in question. Sounds of disbelief and even some blatant scoffing could be heard throughout the chambers. "Custodex, please forgive me, but these measures, at least those pertaining to the Autobots, are blatantly vindictive and, quite frankly, impossible to defend." Aquis, the Marimech Senator, a mech whom Custodex had expected some initial dissention from, posed from his seat.

Custodex just smiled. Even without the presentation he was about to begin, he had little doubt that he would have been able to pull Aquis and many others who would be hesitant of these proposals into line. "Senator Aquis, my dear friend, I too questioned the severity of these proposals shortly after writing them. They are harsh. They are unforgiving..." with a push of a button on the arm of Custodex's chair the lights dimmed by three quarters and a large screen behind the Co-Consuls came to life with images of the battle that had taken place in Iacon earlier in the day. "They are necessary." Footage selected by Custodex and Chroniclax met the optics of the Senators, scenes depicting soldiers on either side firing at one another through crowds of fleeing civilians. The presentation had graphic and gory images of civilian casualties inter-spliced with the battle footage, battle footage primarily of Autobots acting aggressively; legislation proposed against the Decepticons would be an easy sell, the Autobots needed vilifying. Having seen it several times already, Custodex concentrated not on the show, but on the reactions to it from his other Senators. As hoped for and anticipated, they were all horrified; and they hadn't even gotten to the best part yet.

The scenes of carnage cut out and were replaced by the smiling faces of two-dozen Lithomech children accompanied by an adult-model Lithomech Femme, the sound was cut out but they were clearly chattering to an individual or group in what was at the time of the recording real-time. The footage had been acquired from the website of their recently destroyed school, the recording their side of an interplanetary transmission to a third grade class on Earth, their 'pen pals' was the term used by each class to describe the other. The Senators watched the smiling children, confused by its juxtaposition with the brutal scenes of war. Things were made clear by the next series of images, footage of these same children with their teacher being recorded from a rooftop several blocks from the action. A second camera angle displayed the Guardian, Omega Supreme, striking a gestalt than the Senators, for the most part, did not recognize, the blow sending the smaller giant hurtling backward, almost on top of the children. The shot cut back to the original camera angle, some creative editing making sure that Omega Supreme's struggle to keep the other giant from falling onto the Lithomech juveniles was not seen, only his ultimate failure and the monstrous giant falling upon and crushing those beneath him.

Gasps and light whimpering could be heard through the chamber. Though keeping his features somber, Custodex delighted in the shock and horror of his fellow leaders. There were a few shots of the berserk Guardian brutally executing some of the smaller components of the gestalt before showing a red creature holding a Femme hostage. More splicing made sure that the images the Senators saw did not accurately convey the care that Omega Supreme took to ensure he had a clean shot before taking it. What they saw was a spinning head followed immediately by a shot that seemed initially at least to cause as much damage to the hostage as the monster. The shot was immediately followed by the wailing Femme, her injuries clearly in view. That short of impactful segment paled compared to the images that followed, images of four Lithomech children being pulled from an impact crater, both the ground that made up the crater and the children looking as though they had endured severe chemical burning. There was brief footage of civilians heroically doing what they could to save the children, and the emotionally devastated Lithomech teacher doing what she could to comfort the surviving members of the class, before the show came to an end with pliant metal blankets being pulled over the tiny dead frames.

The image of the small blankets covering the tiny bodies froze on the screen, keeping every optic except those of Custodex glued to the screen as the lights slowly brightened to their pre-show illumination. After several more moments the Senators started redirecting their attention to the standing Co-Consul, taking in his righteously indignant expression. "Yes, I assure you, the measures outlined in the Pax Cybertronia are most certainly necessary. I open the floor to discussion."


***


"Sir, I can confirm that our presence was compromised by that second probe." The Helmsman announced to the imposing Jhiaxus.

"I assumed as much." Jhiaxus answered unenthusiastically. "You might as well take us to hovering position just outside Cybertonian orbit."

"Is that for only The Twilight, the advance party, or the backup fleet as well sir?" The Helmsman queried.

"The advance party." Jhiaxus clarified as he peered out the viewport. Though greatly magnified, the image of Cybertron was tiny. "The remainder of fleet is to remain outside the Cybertronian System until otherwise notified."

"As you command sir." The Helmsman answered as he sent instruction to the other ships and engaged the propulsion system. A few moments later The Twilight and the eight ships accompanying it were clearing the moon designated Mainframe and getting an unassisted view of Cybertron. It was the first time that Jhiaxus had seen the planet in nearly four million years. It was the first time most of his crew had ever seen it. "Sir, we're getting readings consistent with wormhole generation." The Helmsman announced as he peered at the screen in front of him. "Yyyyyes. A wormhole has been created, and our sensors are indicating three mid-sized transport ships are starting toward the other end. They should be through to our side in five to nine seconds."

"Leave them unmolested." Jhiaxus instructed. "They wouldn't dare send us an impolite look, much less attempt to attack. And we'll be dealing with them soon enough."

Rook quietly walked forward and took his place beside Jhiaxus. "A wise decision."

Jhiaxus, having never fully forgiven Rook for his intervention in the honor bout with Optimus Prime, merely glared at the smaller robot for a moment before turning to leave. "I am returning to my quarters. Remain in a holding position until I instruct you to do something else. Alert me if the denizens try anything."

"Yes sir." Rook quietly called out to the back of his departing leader.


*


"I guess we're not a big enough fish to send a cast after." Hot Rod tensely joked as he, Ultra Magnus and Arcee peered out the view screen at the nine enormous spacecraft ominously hovering over their home world.

"Great, I guess we can safely get into that barrel down there with all the other fish." Arcee replied.

"They'll hold there and give us an opportunity to accept whatever terms they have to offer." Magnus mentioned humorlessly.

"What do you think those terms will be?" Arcee asked.

"Nothing we'd accept." Hot Rod answered.

Magnus nodded his silent agreement as they made their way down to the planet below. The very nature of this Decepticon Empire made it impossible to negotiate with them. There would be no avoiding this coming battle. And should they survive the battle, it would only be one of infinitely many against this limitless enemy. Ultra Magnus attempted to clear his mind of the anxiety currently plaguing it. Endless war was his existence, so he made the most of these brief respites when they presented themselves. Tomorrow he would likely fight, but for now he would enjoy the safe passage back to the planet of his birth.

things are getting quite dark, I wonder how the pax cybertronia will affect the denending of cybertron and Earth.

Poor Omega Supreme, poor Punch, shame Smokescreen isn't still around to talk to, I'm pretty sure that he'd be able to help them more than Perceptor.

One things for sure though, Custodex ought to meet up with Jhiaxus, Megatron or Galvatron sometime and learn why the Autobots have to put themselves out there.

Actually, I wonder how Megatron will have reacted to the news of a new government on Cybertron.

What an epic chapter Petey! Thank you.

Ooooh, that rat! I hope he gets what's coming to him. If he thinks he's so great he should stand out there in front of the enemy and try to stop them. Either he's right and they stop, or he's blown away and Cybertron is all the better for it.

Woot! Another update =D It's nice to see focus on some of the characters we haven't seen in awhile. Namely Punch and the analysis taken into account for the things he's had to do during his career. Also enjoyed the Omega Supreme bit, sad to see Custodex take advantage of this and use it against the Autobots. I hope they slag him soon and at least set somethings right on Cybertron. Where has Megatron gone to? Galvatron is still a threat along with the G2 Decepticons AND the Swarm. With only 4 episodes to go... man the conclusion must be in utter chaos with all factions scrambling! Hope you update again soon Pete!

Wow peteynorth!
Such intense moments in this chapter. Love it!
Omega Supreme - the definition of a dominant figure indeed!
Awesome how we got an explaination of the psychological motivation of deceptions thru the eyes of Punch! The way you incorporated Sunstreaker as well....brilliant! Bet that also leads to Sideswipe as well.

Glad your update came quick man!
The end is almost near!

Heehee, nice.

Was Omega bludgeoning Monstructor to pulp a purposeful contrast to Monstructor handing Omega his aft in Spotlight: Optimus Prime, petey?

So happy to be so close to the gripping conclusion, yet sad to know that the wonderful many-year ride is almost over too.

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