Ah, the usual delays...you guys know how it is.

So I decided to do something a little different for the next major phase of Warhead (i.e., after Book I is complete), so you guys will probably have a longer delay in between Books I and II than I intended in order to accommodate that. I promise it'll be good, though!

As for this chapter, I'm finally coming full circle on a lot of stuff that's being hinted and promised at for a while, so as we continue on it should be pretty satisfying.

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Chapter XXIV: Captive
The power bonds released, opening the darkness to her. Arcee raised her head, turning on her high beams but seeing nothing. Tentatively, she crept out of the cage, initially on all fours before standing upright. Nothing lashed out at her or tried to keep her in the cage. It was very strange indeed. She couldn't remember precisely how she'd arrived here. Memories of Chromedome and Elita-1 surfaced, and she converted to alt mode, speeding through the darkness and trying to find an exit. Darkness. Darkness everywhere.

She had not been lost to communications. She knew current events, at least: the world was in danger of falling into the hands of some upstart who'd begun a revolution, killed a Prime. Megatron. She finally saw a light, far off, a deep, pulsing blue, and gunned her engine. With a speedster alt mode, it wasn't difficult to push her way through the darkness with ease, and to anyone on the other side of light, she'd appear as little more than a teal blue blur.

She converted back and breathed an oath when she emerged into the light. "It's incredible." Before her sat the legendary computer Vector Sigma, the chamber's openly starry sky unveiled. Arcee darted from shadow to shadow, expecting someone or something to jump out at her, but still nothing happened. She took a moment to examine Vector Sigma itself, the beauteous golden globe perfect in every way. She touched it with a single finger, and the holographic surface rippled, and turned red.

"Key to Vector Sigma absent. Access denied." A voice booming echoed into the chamber, so loud she shook her head, as if to dislodge the echo from her aural receptors. A clanking echoed next, and the room tumbled, shifting perspective; the room's cylindrical body rolled. She squeaked, her body flipped upside down, leaving her staring up at Sentinel Prime himself, whose gaze fixed her.

"Well, well. What have we here?"

Arcee flipped over and jumped to her feet, reorienting herself. She then bowed at the waist. "My apologies, Sentinel, sir! I was trapped in some kind of room and came out here, and when I tapped Vector Sigma this whole thing just sort of happened, sir, and I don't know precisely what I should do now and I'm going to stop talking." She could feel some diodes frying themselves in her head and hoped it wasn't apparent.

Sentinel, for his part, smiled. "Vector Sigma has few keys. Your hand is not one of them." He reached out and grabbed the globe in his much larger hand, and the room reverted to its original configuration. Both Transformers simply walked to the side; Arcee was prepared enough to move with the flow this time, rather than toppling again.

"Who captured you?"

"I don't know."

"I am not in the mood to deal with any lies."

"I'm not lying!" Please don't kill me. Don't kill me.

"I merely state it for the record." Sentinel manipulated Vector Sigma and splayed up a map of Cybertron, multiple areas highlighted in bright red on the otherwise transparent map, its gold outlines flashing. "So much of my planet wars once more. And all for hubris. If these Tyrannicons were so intelligent, they'd help with the Ark. But if they knew of its significance, we'd have bigger issues."

"The Ark?"

Sentinel caught himself, and snapped his head down at her. "You don't know it? It's the largest Cybertronian vessel ever designed. But you will not be privy to its secrets." He coughed. "I surmise Megatronus was your captor, and with his death, you are now free. It stands the test of logic."

Arcee shifted on her feet, seeing another area on the map bloom into warfare. "I guess, maybe? I don't know at all. I just want to talk to Elita-1 and Chromedome."

"Young one, I am Sentinel Prime. I may be a one who tends to the many, but I cannot remember, acknowledge, or even know of the existence of some of that multitude. You would do well to remember self-reliance."

"I wasn't asking for help, sir." She tried not to sound confrontational, but it was hard not to; the Prime just implied she was too dumb or weak to make a phone call! "But given I've been stuck in a dark cage for Primus knows how long, I'm voicing my mind a bit."

"Honestly, they all are so impudent these days." Sentinel harrumphed.

"Impudent? Sir, I'm just asking not to be treated like a protoform. I was a cadet, you know."

Sentinel snickered. "I am being lectured by, as you say, a cadet. The irony is most impressive."

The doors to the Vector Sigma chamber opened, and Shokaract, the council member, strode inward. "This is madness, Sentinel. Madness!"

"And what would that be?"

Arcee stared at the council member. He was like nothing she'd ever seen, and a high political ranker, but he seemed so strange. He appeared to convert into a drillworm, based on the armor plating and the strange appendages dangling off his body.

"Tyger Pax is under assault! My home district! A contingent of Seekers and Tyrannicons are swarming the place. Autobots are doing what they can, but there isn't much left." Shokaract's blusterous tone faded into a quieter lilt. "And I am helpless, as usual. Sentinel, I cannot bear much more of this. Cryotek was bad enough, seeing the corruption penetrate so deeply. I worry Jhiaxus may have fallen under sway of these deviants too."

Shokaract paused, blinking when he noticed Arcee. "And, er, this is?"

"My name is Arcee. I'm a cadet for the Defense Force."

"Wonderful! Maybe you can solve all of our problems in one fell swoop!" Shokaract seemed overjoyed, a wide grin seeming to plaster his face.

"Uh, I don't--"

"Of course, I'm being sarcastic. The day a cadet makes that much of a difference, I'll be nothing but a bottom feeder," Shokaract scoffed.

"That's not fair!"

"Such is life, little one. Those on the bottom support those on the top. There's no other way around it."

Enough of this. Arcee slammed her foot down, pointing at Shokaract. "Council member or not, you can stuff your arrogant mouthplate right up your tailpipe, buddy. I'm okay getting lectured by a Prime, but you're an elected official. Get over yourself."

Shokaract's jaw dropped. Sentinel guffawed loudly. Arcee's point faltered, and she collected herself.

"This one has a wily spark indeed, I like her!" Sentinel said.

"I ought to imprison her for treason or something," Shokaract grumped, but Arcee could tell he was less threatening her than he was moping about having been chastised.

"Look, Councilor, I don't want to make problems, but maybe I can help. My creator is a Headmaster, one of the last ones I know of. He's bound to be able to assist somehow. And maybe he can help me find my sister."

Shokaract's features softened. "So you are displaced by war too." He cleared his throat. "I bluster, yes, but I am not intent on ill will. I just...Tyger Pax is my home."

Sentinel looked back to the map Vector Sigma displayed, highlighting Tyger Pax and another district, none too close to one another. Arcee watched him as he scrutinized the map, as if trying to estimate the distance between the two.

"What are you doing, sir?"

"Trying to figure out if I should unleash hell." Sentinel grimaced.

"The Blitzwings? At this point, I don't think we ought to be keeping any potential weapons out of action." Shokaract paced back and forth, the drillworm legs on his armor trailing him.

"I fear we have no choice but to cut them loose, but I fear they will be less than loyal to us. And should Megatron gain possession of the Blitzwings, all may well be lost."

Arcee took a deep breath. Okay. You can do this. "So tell me what you want me to do."

Sentinel swung around, peered at her. "What?"

"I want to help. And if that means keeping tabs on whatever these Blitzwings are, or fighting the war alongside everyone else, sign me up. I'm not going to sit this one out."

* * *​

Starscream surveyed the motley crew in front of him. The once Orion Pax and his merry band, Hound from the Ark, and countless other Autobots upon whom he could prey. He fired a blast at them without saying another word, Dirge and Thrust ignoring his orders for the moment and blasting away right alongside him. The Autobots dispersed and returned fire, and Starscream responded in the simplest way: he transformed and flew into the sky, avoiding their attempts to hit him.

This is so easy. They have no flying alternate modes. Autobots are too stupid for their own good. Starscream banked and felt a colossal weight slam down into his fuselage, and he grunted. "What in the name of all that is sparking?!"

Jetfire leaned over, his gun pointed at Starscream's head. "Why don't we have a little chat, Screamer? You and I are not on the best terms right now, what with you forgetting about that whole pledge to serve Cybertron."

"Get off of me, you lunatic! Dirge, Thrust!"

"Ah ah ah! I wouldn't call over your buddies, given my ion blaster is itching to pulse a hole right through your head."

Starscream angled upward, gaining altitude. Thrust and Dirge peeled off, predictably obeying his orders too late to be effective. "So what is it you want, Jetfire?"

"Answers, Commander. Thunderwing was mysteriously scrapped, and suddenly you end up as the Air Commander. Skywarp gets more violent, an incident at the Academy with some Vehicon, it all built up. You've been a traitor since day one!"

"Are you surprised?" This came as a shock to Starscream. Jetfire played by the rules, he knew, but he'd never known him to be a simpleton. Any idiot could see Starscream played whatever angle was most suited to him. He began pondering how he could escape his current predicament, and sycophancy came to mind. "Look, please don't scrap me."

"I'm not going to scrap you."

"I don't believe that, you Autobots are so violent when you want to be. Don't you remember the Devastator at Darkmount?" Before Jetfire could respond and while he was distracted, Starscream dipped and swerved, shoving Jetfire off him. A stray bolt from Jetfire's ion blaster clipped Starscream's wing.

Starscream zoomed to the top of Hedron Tower, knowing Jetfire would want to regroup with the Autobots rather than chase him. It made more sense, given he was rushing on afterburner to his backup. A split second later he converted and landed on the top of the tower, shaking his head. "That accursed Air Commander is a zealot."

Dirge stared at him unblinking. "Okay."

"And you're an idiot."

Dirge blinked. "Say that again, and I'd happily tear your spark out and shove it up Jetfire's tailpipe for you." The cold, unfeeling delivery made Starscream wince.

"That's quite alright. What do we have here?" He stepped past the navy and orange conehead, seeing Thrust with arms crossed in front of the other two and a captured Bumblebee.

"These two wondrously skilled Seekers managed to get taken down by Jetfire, even with numerical advantage. It's a wonder I bother teaching people at the Academy." Thrust shook his head. Treadshot growled at him, but neither of the Seekers could move, their wrists bound by power cuffs.

"You don't teach anymore, remember?" And for good reason. Tactics involving suicide blitzes don't usually get approved for mass use.

"Oh." The burgundy jet shrugged. "Still, tactics aren't that difficult to ingrain in someone, are they?"

"You'd be surprised. Time to get combat ready, boys. The Autobots will be here soon."

"More like now." Nemesis punched his way through the tower's roof plating, grabbing on and clambering up onto the roof proper.

Starscream about-faced. "Get Ramjet and Treadshot free of those power cuffs now!" He turned back and Nemesis rocked him with a haymaker, sending him reeling into Dirge. The other Seeker stumbled, muttered something about this always happening, and fell off the side of the tower, doubtless to crash down a few floors before he managed to recover.

"What in Primus's name is your deal, Nemesis? You're not even an Autobot proper, you're closer to one of us!" Starscream blurted.

"What?" Nemesis stopped short, and a newly freed Ramjet headbutted him. Nemesis grunted, taking the blow but not staggering back, and he smacked a fist into Ramjet's back. The Seeker wheezed and dropped to the ground like a sack of bolts. "You were saying, Starscream?"

"You long for vengeance. You've got Dark Energon in your veins. You're no Autobot. Face it, you're a Tyrannicon," Starscream said. There is no way this is going to work, but he might be dumb enough to go along with it. Maybe he'll even help us.

"Not quite. I was an Autobot before. What am I now? Who knows, but it isn't a Tyrannicon. You all are going to pay for what you did to me. You're just lucky I haven't smashed your optics in yet!" Nemesis lunged to smash Starscream in the face.

The Air Commander thought quickly, grabbing Bumblebee and planting his null ray right to the smaller bot's head. "Not another step!"

"Or what, you'll blow his head off? Big deal, what's another body to the count?"

"Stand down, Nemesis!" Optimus's voice came from behind. The remainder of the Autobots had now reached the top of the roof, which started to grow crowded. The tower's size permitted many bots present at once, but if the fighting began again, it could be a true cacophony of battle.

"Back off, Orion. This is my fight."

"No, it isn't. We fight as brothers!"

Starscream took the opportunity to nod his Seekers into action. Treadshot rolled forward and grabbed Ratchet and Rewind both by the neck, continuing the roll and blasting his afterburner right off the side of the building, taking the two Autobots to the bottom with him. Ramjet meanwhile mashed into Hound, the smaller bot withering under the force of the armor-crunching conehead's assault. Thrust and Starscream were thus left to deal with Optimus and Nemesis, Bumblebee trapped between them.

"Starscream, you try my patience. I am arguing in your favor. Were Nemesis under no restraint, yours would be an easy spark to extinguish," Optimus said gravely.

Nemesis snorted. "Easy to extinguish? He's nothing but a coward, hiding behind an alternate mode designed for hit and runs, not real combat."

The goad ruffled the Seeker's feathers, and he glared at both. "You want an excuse for combat, then? Why don't we go at it? Blades only, a proper duel."

"Fine by me. Drop the kid, he's a handicap." Nemesis reached into his backpack holster and removed a small Energon knife. "Small, I know, but think of it like a scalpel. Precision. It's all I need."

They're all absolutely crazy. But then so are my own. "Thrust, if you would."

"You don't want to take him yourself?" Thrust waggled his brow.

"Oh, fine." Starscream yanked out an Energon blade of his own, sliding forward and slashing at Nemesis; the black bot ducked the blow, and Starscream reversed to block the incoming slash. Thrust and Optimus, rather than engaging, watched the battle saying nothing more.

Starscream angled his blade down, trying to pin Nemesis's foot. It threw the other bot off balance as he pulled the foot back, and Starscream, anticipating, smacked him with a full shoulder, sending him off balance further. The Seeker followed up with a horizontal slash Nemesis barely managed to block.

"So, am I nothing but a coward? Have I not earned the title Air Commander? For someone professing such precision and power, you have yet to impress!"

"Sometimes Tyrannicons gloat too much!" Nemesis grunted, and he converted to vehicle mode.

Starscream boggled at him. "Why would you ever do that?"

"Because he was just waiting for a distraction!" Bumblebee called out behind him. Starscream turned, and then realized his mistake and tried to block Nemesis's charge, instead taking the truck full on. The blow shattered his sword and sent him flying back to land by Bumblebee. He glared at the little bot.

"You're all so witty, working together. But you've done enough for one day. That voice of yours has called far too many reinforcements, and I'm going to fix that right now!" Starscream grabbed Bumblebee by the throat, slamming him to the ground; he reached another hand high and ripped into the smaller bot's vocal processors, yanking most of them out entirely. Bumblebee beeped and whirred in anguish and pain.

Starscream stood, crushing the vocal processors in his hand, and turned back to the Autobots. "Shall we continue?"

 

Not bad, not bad.

 

Onwards, toward the darkened sky.

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Chapter XXV: Restraint
Optimus felt the Energon go cold in his system, as if turned to sludge. Starscream had done the unthinkable: a deliberate maiming without intent to kill. One of the few Cybertronian taboos beyond question.

"Starscream!" Optimus thundered toward the Seeker, smashing Thrust out of the way with one arm, battering the conehead. Starscream turned his attention from Nemesis to focus on the new threat, and fired a null ray dead center. Optimus took it full on, the beam scoring his armor, and tackled Starscream. He rammed his fist into the Seeker's face again and again, denting the faceplate. Each word he uttered next was punctuated by a blow. "You abhorrent monster! You don't deserve to live!"

The Seeker whimpered in pain and Optimus caught himself, realizing what he was doing. A stain of spilled Energon covered his fist and dribbled from Starscream's lips. He shifted his head, and the Seeker made what might have been a snicker. "Y-you Autobots aren't so different, see?"

Optimus stumbled off of Starscream, backing up. No, no! I won't be like them. Not even in the throes of rage. I cannot. I could have killed him. Unrelenting guilt flooded Optimus's system, and he clasped his head in his hands.

Thrust, recovered, raised a blaster to take advantage, and Nemesis backhanded the Seeker, lending the full weight of the black Cybertronian's bulk behind it. Thrust spun around from the force of the blow, dazed. "I don't think so, conehead. Big guy may not be the nicest guy anymore, but he's still one of mine."

"Thank you, Nemesis." Optimus tried to compose himself. "I will tend to Bumblebee." He cast a dark look at Starscream. "Nemesis...you can continue my interrogation of the Tyrannicon Air Commander."

"And what about our other guys? They haven't shown yet."

"It is logical they would attend to their own business. I feel our allies are capable of defeating the enemy forces. Regardless, Bumblebee requires immediate medical attention." I just hope I can stabilize his condition, and Ratchet won't be needed until we get back to base. He suppressed the urge to cry out in anguish at seeing Bumblebee, who writhed weakly on the floor, still bound.

Optimus was distantly aware of Nemesis picking Starscream up, shaking the Seeker like a rag doll, but he ignored it, kneeling by Bumblebee. "You have done well, my friend. Tyger Pax may yet be saved as a result of your efforts. The price you paid has been far too high. And I will see to it all debts are paid." He released Bumblebee's power bonds, and the bot clung to him in a nanocycle. Optimus hesitated, then rested a hand on Bumblebee's back, patting him. "You are safe now." Optimus leaned him back, and nodded at him. Bumblebee's eyes wavered before he powered down for the stabilization procedure.

Dirge flew up out of the blue, the Seeker converting and skidding on the tower deck, his face contorted in anger. "I always get the short end of the stick! I am so tired of that!"

"Maybe if you studied tactics a bit more, you could avoid getting humiliated all the time," Thrust mocked, the other conehead getting up and standing in formation with him.

"You two would be wise to stand down. We have a hostage now in the form of Starscream, and we have shown we are capable of besting you. In fact, why not end this conflict here and now? You possess the power to end this slaughter." Optimus swept a hand across the battlefield, in time for a skyscraper to collapse, as if for emphasis.

"Hm, but that wouldn't serve our end goals very well." Thrust tapped his chin. "An intriguing offer, though. Give up, and be imprisoned and possibly executed for treason (which, of course, would also lend us to being targeted by our former leaders), or continue a fight we're already winning." Thrust sneered. "What a difficult decision."

"I just don't want to get wrecked again. It happens too much." Dirge stretched. "But I can handle it if it means I'll rip some of these Autobots apart with my bare hands."

They are too far gone to be reasoned with. So be it. I will end this myself. I don't have time to waste. Bumblebee needs this stabilization! Optimus fired his blaster at Dirge, who ducked just in time. Thrust dove towards Optimus, spamming both his blasters full auto. Optimus grunted, shielding Bumblebee's prone body, the blasts peppering his armor but not doing serious damage. The new body he'd been given courtesy of Sentinel Prime and Ratchet was far stronger than he'd ever anticipated.

He fired a few shots, which toppled Dirge this time, while Thrust rolled out of the way, evidently forward-planning enough to be fighting with two or three moves plotted out in advance. Nemesis grabbed him from behind, and bent his arms backward, keeping the burgundy Seeker pinned. "We don't fight alone, right?" Nemesis's faceplate turned up, as if to insinuate he was smiling. Optimus checked Starscream, seeing Nemesis had put power bonds on him, preventing the Seeker both from converting to alt mode and being a threat.

"Well done, old friend. Can you handle Dirge too?"

"I'll do what I can. You fix the kid."

Optimus focused on Bumblebee again, opening a side chamber in his body. He reeled out several of the cables he'd need for the procedure. It was something drilled into every Cybertronian as early as possible: the method of preserving other Cybertronian life. He connected to Bumblebee, and began synchronizing his systems. In a flash, the empathic pain erupted in his throat, and even kneeling he was staggered. This little scout had suffered so much already.

He routed what Energon he could into Bumblebee's self-repair diagnostics, manually guiding them to put certain portions of the smaller bot into stasis. He worked feverishly, his hands moving in tandem with a visual overlay only he could see, Bumblebee's core systems exposed.

If for no other reason, Megatron must be stopped. This is madness. I sympathize with the desire to end the caste system. To bring in a new golden age. But he will never settle for anything but total control. He would be a new ruling caste all by himself, and think it completely fair. And Cybertronians like Bumblebee would be utterly demolished in the crossfire.

Behind him, Nemesis rammed a punch into Dirge's face, sending the blue and orange Seeker toppling like a sack of Energon cubes, while Thrust jumped onto his back and began pummeling the Autobot.

A blow knocked into Optimus's head from behind, fuzzing his optics; the connection to Bumblebee, tenuous at best, was lost, along with any chance to stabilize and save his vocal processors. Optimus turned, disconnecting himself, and saw a battered Starscream grinning at him, Energon still trailing his lips. His arms were bound, but not behind him, and that was how he'd struck the Autobot. "What can I say, Optimus? I like to see things through!"

Optimus grabbed the Seeker by the neck, picking him up off the ground. Starscream tried kicking at him, to no avail. Nemesis, Dirge, and Thrust, still in the middle of their battle, all stopped to see what would happen. The Autobot leader crossed to the edge of the tower, holding Starscream over the edge. With the power bonds still active, it would be a fall leading to certain death.

"Tell me. Why do you want to die so badly, Starscream?"

The Air Commander swallowed. "I don't want to die at all. I want to win."

"Winning is not maiming and killing. It is ensuring your foes fight for you, instead of against you."

"You sound just like Megatron."

Optimus's optics flared in anger, their brightness overwhelming for a moment. "Give me one reason not to end your pitiful existence right now."

Starscream squirmed. "Please, I beg for mercy! Do not execute me!"

"You without mercy now plead for it? I thought you were made of sterner stuff. Look at what you gave Bumblebee. Look!" Optimus shook Starscream, and the Seeker's head lolled before he focused on the scout. "You took his voice, and then made sure he could never speak again. What kind of monster are you? And you think you deserve mercy?"

"Deserving or not, are you the kind of bot who could execute another without hesitation?" Starscream winced, as if expecting to be beheaded for the comment.

Optimus paused before responding. He took a deep breath. "I think I could try it out." He let Starscream go, and the Seeker screamed as he fell.

* * *​

Hound stumbled through the floors just below the roof. Ramjet had managed to force him underneath the main battle scenario. He worried about the little scout they'd seen the Seekers threaten, but he had to focus on his own survival for now. The once pristine offices of Hedron Tower now were shadowed, echoing hollows of their former selves. Hound kept a close eye on the shadows, knowing Ramjet lurked somewhere.

"Come out, come out, little thinker!" came Ramjet's voice, dispersed through the steel support struts. Hound couldn't tell where it came from, so he kept watching. There: a shadow in the left corner, shifting unexpectedly.

"I hope this works," he muttered under his breath. Hound deployed his hologram generator, displaying a copy of himself tentatively stepping out of the gloom. He was rewarded with Ramjet trying to tackle the hologram. The Seeker stumbled through it, grunting as he hit the floor instead. Hound stepped out himself, firing his pistol as fast as he could into Ramjet's prone form.

"Gah! Autobots acting like Decepticons, what is the world coming to?" Ramjet grumbled, standing up. He covered his chest with his arms, and Hound kept up the steady stream of fire; all it did was pockmark his armor, never penetrating anything vital. Oh scrap.

"Why don't you 'Cons ever go down easy?"

Ramjet stopped, and Hound quit shooting, perplexed. "Go down easy? Are you kidding me? You Autobots are like organics, popping up everywhere and never seeming to get stamped out properly."

"You want to stamp us out? That's madness! Genocide!"

"Not really. We're the same species. Or do they teach you now that we're different?" Ramjet shook his head. "Tut tut." He lunged at Hound, and both stopped as Starscream's terrified shriek echoed in the room. Both looked to the window, seeing the Seeker plummet past. "Er, excuse me. I think I need to take care of that." Ramjet converted to jet mode, firing his afterburners at full and blasting through the glass of the skyscraper to go after his boss.

Hound shifted on his feet. "That was anticlimactic."

* * *​

Ratchet hunkered down, keeping his EMP generator at the ready. Treadshot was not by any means intelligent. His bigger concern was Rewind. The bot was clearly no match for a Seeker. He was a glorified accountant, his alternate mode was a groundbridge generator, and he barely had any onboard weapons at all! Only a sword and a handheld blaster cannon. Hardly an ideal arsenal.

He peeked around the Tyrannicon command post he was using for cover, seeing Treadshot scanning the wreckage, trying to find either of them. He breathed deep. By Primus, I'm a medic. I don't know why Sentinel thinks I can do this. He closed his eyes, and centered his spark to prepare himself. After a moment, he rolled out from behind the pillar, sliding forward and sending an EMP blast at Treadshot. The Seeker about-faced and got hit full in the chest with the EMP, and Ratchet took a step back as something else registered on his peripherals.

Jetfire tackled the other Seeker. Ratchet held his fire. "Jetfire?! I thought you'd have stayed with them up top?"

"You're a medic and he's a data clerk. Take a guess why I followed you!" Jetfire threw Treadshot into one of the pillars, only for the enemy Tyrannicon to throw up both blasters and go full auto, spraying the battlefield with inaccurate but impressive firepower.

"It would figure you're always in my way!" Treadshot grimaced, popping his cannons off his arms and combining them into a single weapon. He aimed one-handed at Jetfire and fired a tremendous beam of purple energy, which the other Seeker narrowly dodged. It vaporized one of the command posts instead, turning it into a melting pool of metallic sludge.

Ratchet looked to Jetfire. That cannon had enough firepower to destroy either of us. Even a no-name Seeker is that strong? What are we supposed to do about it? He paused in his musing, scanning the battlefield. And where the scrap is Rewind?

A long gold and red sword thrust through Treadshot's chest, the Energon seething with the feedback. The Tyrannicon's jaw dropped and he looked down, his hands shakily trying to grab onto the blade, and succeeding only in scorching them against the power of the blade. "I don't...what?" He fell to his knees, coughing.

Rewind was revealed behind the Seeker, the smaller bot's sword pegged directly into his arm, and the small blaster he held was pressed to the back of Treadshot's head. "I might be a data clerk but there are six thousand and seven hundred fifty three different processes allocated to self-preservation which can be utilized most creatively."

"Rewind!" Ratchet took a step forward. He could say nothing else. A data clerk, proving more effective than a medic or a Seeker!

"Filthy...Autobots. We'll take you all down, one by one." Treadshot coughed, Energon staining his lips. "All hail...Megatron!" His optics finally went dark, and Rewind pulled the sword out, tugging against the body for a moment with both hands before it finally came loose.

Jetfire came up, kneeling down by Treadshot's body. "A long while back, he was under my command. Not for long, mind you, but...I still can't believe the sway Megatron has over them. Did you hear him? Nothing but a zealot now."

"When you buy into delusions of grandeur, it's hard not to get swept up into fanaticism by them." Ratchet examined the hole in Treadshot's chest. "Besides, it can go both ways."

Rewind shook the Energon off his sword. "By my estimate we do not have many cycles before the armada converges on Optimus and Nemesis. Should we move to assist? Hedron Tower's infrastructure is capable of supporting well over three hundred and fifty six bots of voyager class scale. There is no issue of structural integrity."

Both Ratchet and Jetfire stared at Rewind.

"I look up trivia in my spare time."

They continued to stare.

"Let's just go." Rewind turned into a portable groundbridge, opening a short range portal to the top of the tower.

"Uh, let's." Ratchet tried to suppress the surprise in his systems. Rewind had killed Treadshot, and seemingly without the slightest hint of remorse. Maybe the trivia had been his way of trying to defuse the situation. But he couldn't detect anything amiss with the smaller bot's systems. Could he be sociopathic? Not something Ratchet wanted to contemplate, but not something he felt was accurate anyway. It didn't fit the bill.

Jetfire seemed to share his opinion. The Seeker kept a careful eye on Rewind until the moment they passed through the bridge, Rewind setting the delay for a few seconds and entering it himself a moment later. The trio found Hound, Optimus, and Nemesis glaring at a captive Dirge and Thrust, who were power bonded.

Ratchet's gaze swept the area and landed on Bumblebee, whom he immediately rushed towards. He knelt by the scout, and began checking his vitals. Servo core coupling disconnected. Stasis lock but only temporary. Six fuel line leakages in the oral cavity. "Optimus! What happened?"

The Autobot leader didn't respond immediately. "I...I killed Starscream."

"What?"

"He had power bonds on, I threw him over."

Jetfire knocked Optimus on the shoulder. "Hey. It's war. Things happen. Focus on the here and now. You've got to help Ratchet with Bumblebee. Do whatever he asks."

Optimus nodded, stumbling as if in a daze over to Ratchet and the prone form of Bumblebee. "Starscream ripped out...everything."

Ratchet didn't respond, rearranging the scout's neck junctions. He's suffered a lot more than I anticipated. I can't fix this. Nobody can. Ratchet swallowed, and leaned in. Something glinted in Bumblebee's throat. A small fragment, red. Starscream's paint flecked off. "Prime, hold this line here. Don't move."

"What did you call me?" Optimus looked at Ratchet, his optics cloudy.

"Nothing, just hold the line!" Ratchet pressed Optimus's hand to the scout's neck, and continued to solder. Why did I call him Prime? Is he worthy? Ratchet glanced at the group's leader. It seemed natural.

"Megatron's going to ensure all of Cybertron goes Tyrannicon or goes dark!" Dirge called out. Nemesis sighed, and booted Dirge in the face, sending the jet stumbling backward toward the edge of the building.

"They need peace and quiet. Another word, and I boot you over. Unlike Optimus, I'm not much of one to care about one lowly foot soldier's death."

Ratchet suppressed a shudder. The Autobots he worked with didn't seem quite so noble anymore. Optimus, with an execution he didn't want to commit? Understandable, perhaps, given the situation, and Starscream more than deserved it for this. Nemesis threatening it casually? Rewind slaughtering Treadshot with ease? Neither were trained soldiers. The world was changing, and too fast.

He finished his work, and took a deep breath. "It's done."

Jetfire nodded. "Is he going to be alright?"

"Bumblebee will live. But unless Primus himself intervenes, there's nothing more I can do. I fear he may never speak again."

Optimus trembled next to him, and then stood. "Enough. No more of this. We will stop Megatron. By any means necessary."

 

*sighs* Really sorry this is taking so long, guys. Life is just being frustratingly time-consuming right now, and coupled with having to write quite a bit for my thesis stuff, it burns me out a little bit. But we have a new chapter!

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Chapter XXVI: Veterans
Magnus scanned the battlefield. Jazz and Ironhide swept the area near him for enemies, ensuring he would not be interrupted as he worked. "There. I see one commander. He may be all that's left at this point." He pointed for the benefit of the other two, indicating a teal green Cybertronian in a ditch, shotgunning into the oncoming enemies like mad.

"Why don't we clear 'em out?" Jazz asked rhetorically. He squeezed off two shots, blasting the heads off two enemy Tyrannicons approaching the one Magnus indicated. The Cybertronian waved his arms at them, and they converted, rolling up.

"For Primus's sake, Magnus, I thought you never would arrive."

Ultra Magnus peered. "Kup. It has been some time."

"Some time? Boy, get your head on straight, we have no time for pleasantries! Been getting slammed by artillery, our own isn't coming online. Power outages."

A Vehicon lunged at Magnus from the background, and before he could do anything, Ironhide jumped in the way, piledriving an electrostatic fist into the Vehicon's gut, splitting it in two. "These guys're a little eager," Ironhide grumbled.

"Kup, give me an indication as to which locations are priority." Magnus glanced at Ironhide.

"Theta, Magus, and Viracon. Take those positions, and we'll be smashing bad guys."

Ultra Magnus nodded. One for each of us, then. "Autobots, disperse and assault the targets. Once the cannons are back online, shell the enemy fortifications at Tyger Pax!" Without another word, Magnus converted and sped towards the Viracon position, the most heavily defended.

Viracon's strategic value was obvious. It was set as an uphill battle, a staging area in a basin with a defense turret mounting on a central tower. Little else remained, making the area a dusty shooting gallery. Night had fallen, which would allow him to approach unseen for a time, so he converted to robot mode and crept along the rubble, sliding from destroyed car to toppled building as he moved toward the defense turret. Several hostiles noticed his entry and began firing full auto, one of the manning the turret. The entire district lit up, spotlights sweeping, and Magnus dove for cover. His pulse pounded as concussive blasts drove divots into the fabricated steel behind which he lay.

Focus. Remember the old training. Target the enemy bot, dead zone him, pinshot, eliminate. No room for error. No room for mistakes. A shell impacted his cover, an overturned automated grid transport, and staggered him. The turret has to be the first target. He rolled out, converting to tank mode and firing a shell of his own at the turret. He aimed true: the ordnance went into the barrel of the city defense turret and blew it open from the inside out, setting the Tyrannicon manning it on fire.

He transformed back, dodging incoming fire, and suddenly a heavy red artillery truck pulled into view, firing missiles en masse. Cackling laughter erupted in tandem with the missiles. He ran full tilt at the truck, ramming it with his shoulder and knocking into it as it converted, battling with him hand to hand.

"An Autobot with teeth! Just what I needed to whet my appetite!"

"And who might you be? Another of Megatron's disappointments?" Magnus wound up a punch, but missed and overexposed himself, letting the red bot lash out with a savage kick. He took it in the chest with a grunt. Wait, I know this one...

"I am what I do: Rampage!" The red bot hissed at him, its strange bisected mouth flaps opening up and revealing an empty interior.

Ultra Magnus slammed his head into Rampage's. "I think you've had enough Energon for one day." Expecting the Tyrannicon to reel, Magnus blinked in surprise as Rampage snickered.

"Megatron tried that same thing! Funny, everybody seems to want to be him these days." Rampage grabbed onto Magnus's shoulders, hefting the Autobot up and throwing him like so much junk into one of his own Vehicons, crushing the soldier beneath the Autobot's weight.

"Emulating Megatron is hardly my aim." Magnus stood shakily. He's strong. He might even have me beat in pure power. But he's all raw talent with no skill. Dumb luck walking.

Rampage didn't respond intelligibly, roaring and leaping into the air to pounce on Magnus. As the Autobot raised his fists to defend himself, another bot wielding a huge hammer swung it through the air, knocking Rampage off his course.

"Whoo. Ultra Magnus, Chromedome, nice meeting you, let's not die." Chromedome, a mostly dark blue Transformer with a beige and silver chrome shoulder and head, hefted the hammer. Magnus converted his hand to a blaster again, took a potshot at one of the few remaining troops, and managed to successfully eliminate him.

I would recognize that chassis anywhere. That's Straxus's body! But who is this Chromedome, and how has he done this? "I have much to ask you, but for now, we need to proceed to the Tyrannicon command outpost at the top of this point and destroy it. Can I count on your assistance?"

Chromedome didn't answer, just swung the hammer in a wide arc. Magnus ducked, and Rampage took the blow full in the head, having jumped from behind to try and snare Magnus. The red bot was sent flying backward some distance. "That a good enough answer?"

"To the point. I think I like you. Let's roll!" Magnus converted and Chromedome jumped on top of him instead of also changing form. Magnus didn't question it; he'd worked with Action Masters before, but here, Straxus's body was no doubt the problem. A roar echoed behind them, doubtless Rampage frustrated with their temporary escape.

The two came upon the command post shortly thereafter, a forest green battle tank Transformer giving orders to the other Tyrannicons. He turned and growled. "I swear, Rampage can't do anything right. He thinks with his guns first."

"Not altogether different from most of you Tyrannicons," Magnus said.

The tank laughed. "I don't think so. Guys like me? Not so dumb. Rampage is effective in the same way a gun is: point it and let it rip. I'm more like a concentrated assault in one bot."

"Arrogant, aren't you?" Chromedome twirled the mace.

"Maybe when I was a Vehicon punk. But now? Brawl's got no equal, and that's no boast!" Brawl snapped his cannons out and blasted at Chromedome first, the smaller bot blocking with the mace but getting thrown back by the sheer force of the explosives.

The heavy ordnance in those cannons is impressive. But Brawl, if he is so intelligent, will have a secondary goal. As Magnus dodged fire, he kept tabs on Brawl's position as the bot shifted; Magnus squeezed off a few rounds of his own to try and pin the tank but none got past his defenses. Magnus stopped firing, and Brawl quirked his head at the Autobot, as if daring him to take another shot.

"So, why are you trying to protect that grid tower behind you? It doesn't appear to be important," Magnus asked. Brawl's optics seemed to glow in surprise, then dull again. There's my answer. The larger Tyrannicon post in the back is nothing but a decoy. The smaller one here: that's the primary conduit they're using.

Brawl converted into his tank mode, firing rapidly at Ultra Magnus, shells exploding all around the Autotrooper commander. Magnus grimaced, knowing he was right indeed for Brawl to suddenly shift gears and go on the offensive.

Chromedome jumped on Magnus's back, light as a Mini-Con, and leaped off of him to slam the hammer downward into the top of Brawl's turret, dazing the stronger Tyrannicon. "And that's a wrap, folks! Save the applause for later, though, round two is coming up!"

Ultra Magnus stared, and then shrugged. "I suppose this is what they mean by going with the flow." He converted to vehicle mode, blasting a shell into the small tower while Brawl was stunned; it exploded in a shower of sparks. Power cut to the glowing red and purple hues of the Tyrannicon command posts, including the largest one at Viracon, and Magnus converted back. "Mission accomplished, then."

"You Autobots think you have it all. Just wait," came the grating voice beneath Chromedome's hammer. "When we're through with you, there won't be enough scrap to feed the grinders!"

Rampage thundered onto the scene, bashing Magnus into a Vehicon's dead body, and grabbed Chromedome by the head, slamming him into the ground. "Filthy Autobots! Should rip you to shreds! Tear and maul you, down to the twisted little spark!"

"Rampage, call it off! Viracon is lost, we need to retreat!"

"Scrap you, Brawl! Always running and never fighting! You want to know how to win a fight? Same way you win in the pits of Kaon: you kill!" Rampage's hand tightened around Chromedome's head, and the bot cried out as the servos in the hand began inexorably crushing the skull.

"Put down Chromedome. Now." Magnus had his vehicle mode cannon slung under his arm as a makeshift ion blaster, pointed right at Rampage. The red bot snapped his head around, fixing him with a death stare. "You drop him, you can take Brawl and walk away. You don't, I'll make sure neither of you walk ever again. Or do anything else."

Slowly, Rampage's other hand moved back, and Magnus fired, searing the metal around Rampage's backpack.

"I don't think so. No sudden moves. No twitchy fingers. Drop him."

Rampage finally did, letting Chromedome fall to the ground, and he leaped back, converting to vehicle mode. Brawl half-converted, his arms sliding out of his tank mode, and they ratcheted up to grab onto Rampage, the two speeding off into the darkness of Tyger Pax.

Magnus gave Chromedome a hand, and the smaller bot looked at it for a moment before accepting it. "I, uh, I guess I owe you one."

"You can start by explaining why Straxus's body is using you for a hat. And what you're really doing here."

Chromedome sighed. "Well, someone was bound to notice eventually. I am the great Straxus!" Magnus stared, and Chromedome shrugged. "Okay, so I'm not. I'm a Headmaster. Borrowing Straxus's body to keep it out of the hands of the Autobots, or I was before The Fallen got mashed up like so much pulp."

"To what end?" Why would Megatronus have wanted to keep the body from us? It makes no sense.

Chromedome put the mace down, leaning on it. "You guys really have no clue, do you? About what's coming to Cybertron. Megatron's little insurrection is the least of our problems."

"I think you should tell me everything."

"First things first: you bots need to help me find my girls."

* * *​

Jazz whistled to himself, having cleared Theta in what he might consider record time. There had only been a small bunch of bots guarding it, nothing special. He didn't even have to shoot to kill: just to disable. A bot without hands was as helpless as one without a spark.

He now eyed the Magus sector, where Ironhide was tidily mopping up bots left and right, and zoomed in with his scope. "I swear, these guys don't give us any time to have fun." The Vehicon on whom he sat cursed at him, and Jazz looked down quizzically. "Hey, I could have scrapped you. What're you so annoyed about? Pipe down." He kicked him with his heel spurs, and the Vehicon quieted.

Jazz lowered the rifle, and dialed in Kup's frequency.

"This is Kup, and that better be you, Magnus!"

"Sorry, brother, it's Jazz."

"Oh, for...get off the line, you wannabe soldier!"

"Hey, hey, is that any way to talk to someone who just finished Theta for you?"

"You did?"

"About five cycles ago. Ironhide's finishing Magus and Magnus just took down Viracon too. He hasn't radio'd, so he might have captured somebody, but when Ironhide blows up that tower, you've got a green light to bring out the big guns."

The resultant squeal of feedback made it difficult to tell if Kup was cheering or screaming in horror. Jazz's mouth angled down. "Kup? You all right, bud?" No response. Jazz grabbed his rifle, jumping off the Vehicon and running toward the edge of the building serving as his vantage point. He zeroed in on Kup's original position, not seeing the bot. "Kup! Give me a read or something, where are you?"

This is the nightmare. You can be the best shot in the world. But if you can't find the target, a scope doesn't mean anything. It gets in your way. You see the fine details, but you don't see what you need to. Who you need to. Jazz shuddered, focusing his visor through the scope and angling it around.

Nothing. The landscape was empty. And then, when Ironhide gave a verbal all-clear through the comlink, the Autobot guns on the friendly side of Tyger Pax lit up like Six Lasers over Cybertron, sending concussive fire capable of ending armies at the other side of the map, steadily destroying their now-inactive Tyrannicon counterparts.

Jazz pulled away from his scope, the glare overwhelming his optics, and he watched, horrified, as the position Kup originally defended was bombarded alongside everything else. 'Bots and 'Cons alike killed in the crossfire. A Pyrrhic victory. The field erupted in fire, melting metal burning into pools of refuse which would forever stain the city of Tyger Pax and leave it a smoldering ruin.

"By Primus. This is a lot heavier than I expected." Jazz swallowed, and raised a hand to his visor to block out the images of the Cybertronians burning below.

This shouldn't affect me. Cybertron had much worse during the Great War. Nobody could forget things like crashing capital ships into the surface, or Unicron himself. But it's just so wrong. So wrong. Jazz heard footsteps, and about-faced, his rifle at the ready.

Ironhide stood behind him, spilled Energon staining his electrostatic fists. "Not very pretty, huh, Jazz?"

"It's a bit bright for me." Jazz didn't look at Ironhide directly.

"It's war. We have to do it. They've done worse. They'll continue to do worse."

"So we can do whatever we want, as long as we pretend it's in Cybertron's best interests? Look at this pile of junk I made. These guys can get replacement parts but they won't ever be the same again. Better disabled than dead, though, right?" Jazz swept a hand across the reddish vista still burning. "But you can't fix what's gone. You can't undo this. It's still burning, Ironhide. They used heavy chemicals as well as ordnance."

"I didn't say I liked it." Ironhide came closer, resting a hand on Jazz's shoulder. "But the Tyrannicons are retreating. Their Seekers are bailing out. We've captured two of theirs, according to a transmission Optimus sent, and one of their commanders, Treadshot, was killed."

"So? They've got a thousand more who'll replace him."

"Not quite. Anyway, where's Kup? I thought you'd have called to him by now. Didn't he give the signal for all this?"

"I don't know. I tried to find him, but they lit up the district before I could. And trying to find someone in this charnel house isn't going to be easy." Jazz averted his eyes from the blazing wreckage of the district. "Not to mention it'll be hard to breathe."

"There's not that much smoke."

"I know."

Ironhide paused, grasping Jazz's meaning. "There's nothing we can do."

"I know."

The two stared out into the smoky haze, tinted a bronzed color from the flame. Neither looked away this time, intent on watching the final moments of both the Autobots and Tyrannicons who were suffering below before death finally claimed them.

"Prime and the others got clear?" Jazz muttered.

"Prime?"

"Uh, Optimus." I called him Prime? I must be more sentimental than I thought. "Us three are fine, but he had a lot of bots with him. Good people."

"Yeah, they called me, remember? Kup's the only one we haven't accounted for yet."

The sound of a conversion came from the rear, and they turned to see Magnus stepping forward, gingerly avoiding the fallen Vehicons Jazz left behind. "I see we're observing the fireworks."

"Fireworks? I can't believe you said that." Jazz shook his head.

"Soldier, the world is not as pleasantly gray as people like to believe. You either kill or are killed. You are good or bad. The Autobots sacrificed this day will not be forgotten. And neither will the Tyrannicons." Magnus clasped his hands behind his back, and Jazz spotted someone behind the Autotrooper commander.

"Who's that?"

"Chromedome's the name." The bot trudged forward, using Straxus's mace as a cane. "I was helping Magnus earlier."

"We can't find Kup, boss," Ironhide interjected.

"Noted. Unfortunately, we have larger issues to worry about. I have agreed to assist Chromedome in a rescue of two Cybertronians dear to him in exchange for the full details of a potential extinction-level event."

Both Jazz and Ironhide stared at Chromedome. The bot shrugged. "Hey, don't look at me like I'm crazy. I'm jacked into Straxus for a reason."

"What's this so-called extinction level event?"

"There is a transwarp wave of unparalleled power approaching Cybertron."

Jazz wanted to scream in frustration. Magnus never just said anything. "So what?"

"The transwarp wave is Unicron himself."

 

Welp, I read the first chapter today (finally; I found this over a month ago  ). Very good stuff. The prose works brilliantly, although I can't help but feel the first chapter moves too fast. Maybe I'm missing a part of the Cybertronian life cycle you're portraying here, but it feels like D-16 has just been born, and he's already plotting a Decepticon uprising at about five minutes old.

Still, it's a very promising story and I'll definitely be reading more.

 

Thanks! Sadly, some of it has suffered in production due to me changing little tidbits to accommodate things here and there... A lot of the early stuff moves a little fast by sheer virtue of the fact I didn't want to spend eons on the simple stuff. In a future revision (when I finish, I plan on editing the entire piece, streamlining it, and going beyond the 10 page limit per chapter for extra descriptions and the like) it'll be a little more filled out.

Anyhow, next chapter? Next chapter! We haven't had a Tyrannicon-themed one in a while, so here we go. Plot advancement!

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Chapter XXVII: Tirades
"So, Starscream, you failed, and managed to get three of your Seekers captured or killed. Fantastic job!" Megatron railed. The group of Tyrannicons sat in the heart of Megatron's Kaonian hideout. He stormed around the room, pacing incessantly. "Normally, I wouldn't care much, but Seekers are more valuable assets. And what did you do? Paint a brutal, bloody picture of us as conquerors and genocidal lunatics, what with the scout stunt."

The Seeker sat on the floor in a pile, the power bonds still wrapped around his hands. Starscream tried to look remorseful. "I didn't mean to hurt our cause, Megatron." I was fighting for my life, you arrogant tyrant. Where were you? Dawdling as you had an entire armada's worth of firepower concentrated on a Prime. And such a public dressing-down. Shockwave, Thundercracker, Ramjet, Brawl, Rampage...I might as well be dead already.

"Excuses!" Megatron stomped forward, pulling a hand up to backhand Starscream across his already battered faceplate, and he caught himself, coughing. The other Tyrannicons shifted uncomfortably, excepting Shockwave Primal, who merely quirked his head.

"There's not much I can say to excuse my behavior, Lord Megatron. But consider the positive upsides. We've lost Tyger Pax, but so have the Autobots, and we have a prize of our own to bargain for our captured Seekers."

Swindle, evidently having hidden behind Brawl for part of the conversation, now chimed in. "Bargaining chips are always good, Megs, he's right. And after all, when the chip is so sweet? I think you ought to let me off the hook for once. It gets boring being a glorified accountant all day."

Megatron crossed to a seat, resting and rubbing his faceplate. "First things first. Recap. What have we won, and what have we lost? Ramjet, you will speak for Starscream."

You insolent fool! You dare let a subordinate speak for his commander!? Starscream tried to keep his expression neutral, but the rage boiled in his servos. Megatron looked at him without expression, and the feeling turned to ice. This may be my last day as that commander, though. Megatron is the only authority who can still declare the Defense Force hierarchy at this point, other than Sentinel.

Ramjet scratched his conehead, sparing a glance for Starscream and shrugging. "Uh, well, I think Thundercracker should do this, but I guess he was with you? Anyway. Didn't kill Sentinel. Wiped Sky Shadow and Skyhammer's divisions without much effort, thanks to some of our subcommanders like Slipstream. Tyger Pax you, er, already heard about."

Megatron nodded, and the room grew darker as the day passed. Only one day had followed since the loss of Tyger Pax, and as the night fell, Starscream wondered why anyone cared about the city's destruction in the first place. It was made an example of, and if anything, it showed the Autobots were just as ruthless as the Tyrannicons.

"Brawl, Rampage?" Megatron asked.

"This buckethead doesn't know how to fight properly," Rampage grumbled, crossing his arms. Megatron raised an eyebrow.

"I swear, Rampage, you're a loose cannon." Brawl shook his head.

"Scrap you! We'll go a few rounds, see who's better in a fight, then you can start talking smack!"

"Enough!" Megatron stood, his imposing figure standing at the same level as Brawl and shorter than Rampage, somehow at least managing to cow the once-Vehicon into place. Rampage just snorted. "Rampage, your insolence wears on my gears. Keep it up and you and I will go a few rounds. You remember I beat you once, forfeit or not. I'm only stronger now."

Starscream blinked in surprise as Rampage, contrary to his usual confrontational manner, actually backed down, muttering something under his breath as he walked off, shouldering past Shockwave. He can keep them in line admirably. Why have I never been able to master such a skill?

Brawl cleared his throat. "We failed to prevent Ultra Magnus and his teams from destroying our command posts in Tyger Pax, which led to the loss of the district. As you already know, we did recover an Autobot prize before the shelling began."

"Where is our little trophy?" Megatron purred.

Shockwave stepped forward. "I have been...safeguarding him. My Insecticons make most eager playmates. They have not harmed him, per your instruction."

Shockwave. Logical. The first place to start if I was to...but no, Megatron's rule is absolute here, at least. If I am to grow my own power, I will need to start with the disillusioned, the downtrodden. Rampage may be the best option, and Shockwave will prove the excellent lieutenant. Starscream's schemes flew wildly through his head before he remembered how easily Skywarp and Treadshot had been killed, and he swallowed involuntarily.

Swindle edged in again. "I'm telling you, the time to act is now. We send the 'Bots an ultimatum. Not Sentinel. Hostages won't work on him." Swindle tapped his nose. "We send the word to Optimus. That Nemesis kid will play into our hands in the process, I'd think."

"Speaking of. Brawl, do you still possess the Energon cage?" Megatron held out his hand, and Brawl rummaged in his storage compartments before handing the peculiar cube to his master. Megatron examined it for a moment. "Shockwave, remind me of how much force I can exert on this without killing Nemesis."

"The refinement process of the Dark Energon infecting his core has given the shard you hold and his spark a symbiotic nature. While he rejects his Terrorcon nature, he cannot reject the pain and damages ensuing from such a connection." Shockwave paused, his eye whirring. "There is no risk of degradation of spark until ninety percent damage capacity has been reached. A gradual increasing of force will lessen the sustained time as it prevents the spark from recovering, but may be more effective in coercing obedience."

A smile crossed Megatron's face. "I have a two-fold plan, then. Thrust the captive into Optimus's face, force him to bring forward my Seekers..."

Starscream bristled at the possessive. His Seekers. What next, his Cybertron? His arrogance knows no bounds now. And tampering with sparks, Dark Energon, and working with this foul beast more? It does not bode well.

"But we will also obtain Nemesis at the same time. And then I will have him kill Optimus. That will solve two problems at once. Those Autobots are annoyingly persistent."

Thundercracker, silent in the corner the entire time, finally entered the conversation. "One problem. Not to spoil your little party, but we need a new base."

"What?"

"The Autobots probably know about this place from research alone. This is one of Cryotek's old places, remember? But I saw something else on the way back. They have Chromedome working with them."

Megatron sighed. "Who is that, and why do I care?"

"Nothing special, just a special ops Autobot from the Great War who routinely bodyjacks dead Transformers."

The room, already quiet, went dead as the rest of the Tyrannicons stared at Thundercracker. The silence was broken only by Shockwave's eyepiece whirring.

"Hey, I've been around for a while. Anyway, Chromedome jacked into Straxus to boot. So whatever he knew? So do the Autobots. That's a lot of secrets, and a lot of your backstory, boss."

"Ugh. Another problem enters the fray. Speaking of stories...where is Wheeljack? I expected his analysis of Megatronus's data tracks some time ago."

And that is the key right now, Starscream thought. The longer I stay quiet, the more time I have to learn what I can. If I am to be punished, perhaps I can bargain my way out of it, as Swindle would.

As if on cue, Wheeljack staggered in from the lab. He'd been working to repair the damage to the Tyrannicons and his own team as well as fulfill his assignments. "Somebody call for a Wrecker?"

"Soundwave's condition?" Megatron seemed concerned about the last Tyrannicon to be repaired, Starscream noted.

"She's stable. In stasis for a while, though. She got hit pretty hard by the Prime, I wouldn't be surprised if she had some trauma as a result of it."

"So long as she survives. And Megatronus's corpse?"

Wheeljack wiped the condensation from his forehead, fanning himself. "You're gonna love this."

* * *​

The room with the Prime's corpse was filled to the brim with all manner of strange medical and electronic gear. Megatron could not begin to guess at half of it, assuming Wheeljack had converted this laboratory in haste; it was only upon questioning the Wrecker he learned some of it came also from Shockwave. The corpse of Megatronus Prime was laid out on an examining table, cracked open with wires feeding through, a projector exuding an almost putrid shade of green as it displayed the contents of the data tracks.

Megatron sat stunned in his chair. Unicron. His return, imminent and impending in the form of a massive transwarp wave. The data tracks of the dead Prime could no longer lie. This was what he referred to during our battle, then, before I murdered him.

"What is this Ark?"

"A capital ship of some kind, biggest in its class."

"Of course! That was where they failed to kill Sentinel. No wonder the Prime was there. Doubtless he has it reinforced now." Megatron put a finger to his chin. "But we may attack it nonetheless."

Wheeljack paused the feed. "Come again?"

"Attacking the Ark may be the best way to handle things."

"So, when do I sign you up for that mental health exam?"

"Knock it off." Megatron waved a hand at the Wrecker, who shrugged. "Attacking the Ark is a move the Autobots will never expect, and following the hostage trade it will throw them off even more. Simultaneously performing it may be better."

"Whatever floats your boat. So long as I still have a place to tinker, and my guys can mash it up, we're good. Not too concerned about the whole war thing."

"You Wreckers are something else. Did you do any research on Shockwave, in the meantime?"

"He's been telling you the truth about everything. Glossing over or selectively editing some stuff. He outright killed most of his staff and the few who went with him became Terrorcons too. Apparently they got exiled to a backwater planet."

"That he's hinted at but it's nice to get confirmation. Any idea where the Ark is going?" It's obviously to flee from Unicron, but such a mighty ship should be used to combat him instead. There is no reason to turn tail and flee when we can end the threat of domination once and for all, ushering in a reign of peace and prosperity by my hand.

"Actually, it's set to go to the same planet. Probably hasn't had coordinates updated, or Megatronus didn't know. It is Sentinel's pet project."

Megatron mused over this. "I want a private chat with Starscream."

A moment later, he and the Seeker were alone in the lab, the latter's battered body and wounds still not repaired or tended to. Megatron knelt down next to him, and Starscream flinched. "Just get it over with."

"What? Your punishment?"

"Yes. It's what you're going to do, isn't it? Because I failed. Because I didn't do a perfect job that no Cybertronian would have been able to pull off short of being a Prime himself."

"I'm not going to punish you, Starscream." Megatron unlocked the power bonds, and the Seeker stood up in tandem with him. "I am going to explain how things work. First: we have an image to maintain. If we are in a public scene such as that battle, or over wide channels, we can't indiscriminately maim and kill. I don't care that you broke some tenet. It's meaningless, a holdover from the old world order."

Starscream narrowed his eyes, still suspecting a trick.

"Second: don't play at being a king unless you have the spark to back it up. You haven't done anything truly noteworthy yet other than help me eliminate Thunderwing, attempt to assassinate Sentinel, and try to take Tyger Pax. I have done far more, including, well..." He gestured to the corpse of Megatronus on the table. "Actions speak louder than words. They command the authority you desire."

Megatron watched the cogs turn in Starscream's head as the Seeker processed everything. He's finally figuring out I don't intend to hurt him. And better yet, this will make him a more competent leader. He'll start treating his own warriors with more respect, and pulling more of his own weight. In short, I'll soon have a more reliable air lieutenant.

"I understand." Starscream seemed to struggle with the next words. "Thank you."

"It's nothing. You and I are going to be together some time, Air Commander. It is only fitting you finally take a stand."

"Yes, Lord Megatron. By your leave." Starscream bowed.

"Before you handle your own business, be sure and have Wheeljack or Shockwave perform maintenance on you. I'd rather not lose you because I was making a point about repairs."

"Noted." The Seeker left the room, and Megatron stood alone with the corpse of Megatronus Prime.

"And to think, there was so much promise for the world before you revealed it all to be a false hope. You could have been a force of good and change in this accursed bureaucratic world. Instead you foist the role on me." Megatron stalked back and forth along the length of the Prime's body, scraping his pointed fingers along the darkened metal chassis.

Accursed Prime. One of the Thirteen. You were the one I was most curious about. Few care of the stranger ones, Onyx or Nexus. But you are the first chapter of the war for Cybertron's future, even more so than Prima, or Liege Maximo. And you soiled your own name. I shall not do the same. I shall redeem you in name only.

"Uh, Megatron?" Brawl peeked his head through the door.

"What is it?"

"Shockwave and Wheeljack are getting into it."

* * *​

"It's my lab, I'll do what I please!" Wheeljack stabbed a finger into Shockwave's chest plate, the two bots standing toe to toe.

"It was my laboratory before yours, and by such I retain the rights to the corpse lying within." Shockwave split his mouthpiece and hissed at Wheeljack.

"What in Primus's name is all of this about?" Megatron roared.

"He thinks he gets to have dibs on the corpse because I'm done archiving the data tracks!"

"To what end, Shockwave?" Megatron stared at the Terrorcon. Not the first time he's tried to go for corpses, and when he did the last time, he ended up with the Insecticons. That isn't counting how he's got troops exiled before. He may be playing dumb.

He shifted on his feet. "I wish to dissect the Prime and learn of any advanced technologies we can glean and reverse engineer from the body."

"Is that the only reason?" Megatron fixed him with a hard stare. A mild test of loyalty, then.

"No. I also considered reanimating the Prime as part of a Terrorcon task force. Unfortunately, logic dictates such an endeavor may be extremely dangerous, given the Prime's ability to withstand outside influences."

"You refer to Unicron."

"Yes." Shockwave's expression did not change.

"So why the issue with Wheeljack?"

"He is...usurping my position as chief scientific officer of the Tyrannicons."

"I wasn't aware such a position existed. No, hold on," Megatron said. He held up a hand as Shockwave moved to speak again. "Whatever these minor quibbles are, handle them on your own. I should not need to be dragged into them. If they truly warrant my attention, as the Prime's body does, then that is justified. And no, you can't do anything to the body."

Shockwave turned and stalked off without saying another word, while Wheeljack smiled and went to high five Megatron. The leader glared at him till the Wrecker put down his hand. "Let me make something clear to you as well, Wheeljack. I do not intend to provide a divided front to the Autobots. If you have a problem, solve it, don't worsen it. Clear?"

"Crystal, boss."

"Good. Now then. I wish to see our prisoner. Swindle? Take me to him."

The merchant shrugged, and motioned Megatron into a side alcove. The hall extended in the darkness for some way, lights only installed at odd intervals. They reached a nondescript door, and Swindle unlocked it. "He's power bound. Enjoy."

Megatron pushed in the door, revealing a dank and decrepit room with strange organic moss growing in one corner. A Cybertronian whose type he wasn't familiar with sat in the center of the floor, trying in vain to light a cy-gar.

He looked up at Megatron. "So you're the boss. Got a light?"

"Business before pleasure. Your name?"

"Kup."

The war hero! Well, a washed up one, anyway. No prize like Magnus or another such warrior would have been, but enough that even Sentinel may get sentimental. Optimus will surely trade my Seekers for this scrap heap. "I am Megatron." The Tyrannicon leader flicked open an internal lighting mechanism on his finger, lighting the cy-gar for the Autobot.

"Not as bad as you seem on the propaganda channels."

Megatron smiled. "Things are rarely what they seem."

 

Ah, I absolutely understand this. I myself am actually in the midst of retooling my old Transformers universe and I find myself hardly recognizing it as being the same at its core.

Anyways, if I go silent for a while, it's not necessarily because I've stopped reading. I'll be more likely to give you a review once I've caught up, however long that takes.

 

Onwards! And Prime Directive, any responses will be welcomed. I love feedback, as it helps me gain a little more information and see if people like / hate some of the stuff I'm doing. As we get further it'll get much crazier... just wait till we get to Book II and III.  

Also, Needlenose, because I love that stupid guy.

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Chapter XXVIII: Stormcloud
Arcee explored the bottom of the Ark's holding cells, Sentinel Prime and Shokaract next to her. The halls were dimly lit, despite being in close proximity to the engine block. Lights were spread far apart in the top of the high ceiling, giving the cells an abandoned, eerie look.

"Why does the Ark even have prison cells?" she asked.

Shokaract murmured to himself before answering. "There are many reasons, but chief among them is that the Ark is meant to transport as many Cybertronians as possible offworld. In some cases, they must be forcibly brought along. In others, like the Blitzwings, their use is obvious in military or scientific endeavors, but they are too dangerous to be allowed to roam free with the other bots."

"So why let them loose?"

Sentinel spoke up this time. "There is a growing danger that the Ark itself will be attacked. The more this war continues, the more likely an outcome it is. More importantly, we must cease Megatron's charge at any cost. He would see the planet united under his cult of personality."

"Tyrannicons." The word sounded dirty to Arcee. Origin: tyranny. And it made sense to name a new faction centered around a single bot as such. It simply felt wrong.

The trio came to a massive blast door in the back end of the prison, which featured countless pitted scars. Arcee gulped. They told me how resilient the Ark was, and how new. What could have done this? The Blitzwings? But they're bots like us!

Sentinel waved a hand, and the door opened, a window into total darkness. Rustling of metal echoed out of the chamber. "My Blitzwings. We must call upon you again for your services. I am afraid war has broken out once more."

Shokaract looked at Sentinel. "They are still in stasis lock, right?"

"I removed the stasis before we came. It would not do for them to attack us on sight simply assuming they had been captured by the enemy."

"Go away, false Prime. We did your dirty work once. We'll not be toys or tools any longer." The voice was gruff but not with age; it sounded as if the bot's vocoder was heated to higher temperatures than normal.

"There is no opportunity for refusal. This concerns the fate of Cybertron itself."

"So we're all going to die? C'mon, guys, that's a solid one for me," another voice echoed, this one higher pitched and strangely lilting.

"Sentinel, why aren't we going inside to talk to them?" Arcee focused her photoreceptors on the darkness, but couldn't penetrate it.

"They would take none too kindly to encroachment on their territory, even if they have been imprisoned here. We must be invited in."

The first voice came again. "All right, Sentinel. We'll talk."

Arcee took her first steps forward into the darkness.

* * *​

Hound stumbled up the burning metal piles, his paint job scuffed from the heat alone. He panted, exhaustion setting in. Avoiding fire was a difficult endeavor when the entire battlefield was almost nothing but. He wasn't the only one: both Autobots and Tyrannicons alike lurked in the flames of what was once Tyger Pax, trying feebly to survive.

A Tyrannicon lay helplessly trapped under debris as he began moving again, on the other side of the pile. It looked up at him with a greenish-tinged faceplate, a knightly head crest finishing out the look. "Hey, give me a hand here?"

Hound turned, and the Tyrannicon noticed the Autobot logo emblazoned on his body.

"Aw, scrap. Forget I said anything. Just let me rust here." He averted his eyes, purple arms resting on the ground.

Hound debated internally. Save him? Leave him? What's the difference? Is there one at all? After a moment's hesitation, he knelt down and got a grip on the debris pinning the Tyrannicon.

He looked up sharply. "Hey, you're going to help me? That's awesome! My legs are trapped, there's a girder pinning them."

"Shut up while I work, okay?"

"Uh, sure." The bot went quiet, and Hound strained his servos, hefting the largest panel and the junk on top of it upward, allowing the Tyrannicon to scrabble out. Hound dropped it when he was clear, wiping his brow.

"Wow. That's pretty nice of you, guy. My own troops sort of left me here."

"Yeah, well, I'm in the mood to escape this barbecue, so pardon me if I don't stick around."

"Hey, wait! What's your name?"

He paused. "Hound. You?"

Now that the Tyrannicon was free of the debris, he could see him in better detail. Strangely fashionable, but out of date for the time period. Perhaps a jet type, the bot had purple detailing on his arms and legs, with a silver body type and the same greenish hue on his face elsewhere filling out the color scheme. "I'm Needlenose. You've probably heard of me."

Who is this guy? "Can't say I have."

"I'm going to fire my agent."

"It might be a little late for that, what with the war." Hound tried to avoid snarking. The guy clearly wasn't all bad. Perhaps addled, but not bad.

"I was a famous fashion designer before all of this. But once the Vehicons started up strong, well, all the propaganda got people buying into rival designs. And, of course, it didn't help matters that the Autobots practically encouraged that sort of thing, trying to keep order or something by streamlining the popular opinion of fashion..."

Hound tuned him out. Where am I going to go? The main troops have all left. There's nothing left to do here. I can't even organize a rescue effort, not with me and this guy alone. He turned his optics to the skies, scanning. Nothing was flying, no lights, no banners, nothing. Tyger Pax was, in its entirety, dead. Nothing but hollow skyscrapers remained.

"...and so after I couldn't even sell one more order of Nebulan paint jobs, I decided I had enough and wanted to make a difference, so I joined up with the Tyrannicons. At least they're trying to make a difference." Needlenose shrugged.

"You do realize they're a bunch of warmongering nutjobs, right?"

"Well, yeah, but the pay's good, and let's face it, things will never be the same." Needlenose hung his head. "I don't exactly relish the killing."

"You know, I kind of like you." Hound clapped a hand on Needlenose's shoulder, and the bot looked up, blinking.

"You do? Slipstream always got annoyed with me. Worse, she kept partnering me with Misfire." Needlenose shuddered.

"Misfire?"

"Exactly as it sounds. Nobody remembers whatever his original designation was. His accuracy is into the negatives. He's even gotten me once or twice, but never anything that penetrated the armor."

"Sounds like someone we'd never want to be on our side."

"Tell me about it. We've tried to show him how horrible some of the Tyrannicons are and the guy thinks it's awesome. He's a total idiot." Needlenose stretched out. "I think I can still transform. Do you need to get out of here? I can give you a lift. Only fair, you helped me out."

"That, uh, that would be helpful." He really is a nice guy. After Ramjet's spiel about trying to stamp us out, maybe there is hope for peace after all.

Needlenose converted into a forward-wing fighter, and Hound clambered on top of him. "Right then, you've boarded Needlenose Air, thanks for riding with us. Hold on to your skidplate, and enjoy the ride!"

"Wait!"

The whine of his afterburners cooled down. "Huh?"

"Where are we going?"

"Excellent point. I have absolutely no idea."

* * *​

Chromedome sighed. "Okay, let's go over this one more time. Unicron is a transwarp wave now. He's coming to Cybertron. You don't have time to do much but escape and warn as many people as you can." The Autobots were currently stationed at the Autotrooper headquarters once more, with Ratchet and the Constructicons tending to wounded while the rest discussed the situation.

"That doesn't compute. Unicron was destroyed at the end of the Great War." Rewind's fan intakes whirred in confusion.

Magnus stepped forward. "I saw the planetkiller fall."

Chromedome rubbed his faceplate. "Okay. So. Here's this being, so powerful we call him a god. He has almost limitless energy, and is insanely strong. With me so far? Explode him. What happens? Nothing, not immediately. But the energy is eventually going to overload. And now he's a transwarp wave." It's like dealing with protoforms, they're so skeptical of everything.

"So he's not sentient?" Jazz chimed in.

"What, now I'm the expert? Decepticon sensors might have picked the thing up, and Straxus might have known about it, but it's not like they sent out probes waving recruitment signs. The thing destroyed Omicron when they got wind of it." Chromedome shook his head. "No wonder you Autobots are losing, some of you are too dense for your own good."

"Hey, now! Don't get all high-falutin' because you think we're dumb!" Ironhide snarled. Optimus put a hand on the Autotrooper's shoulder, and he coughed, taking a step back. "Sorry, Optimus."

The leader bot put a hand to his chin. "It's fine. Now, if Unicron is composed primarily of transwarp energy, we have a difficult problem to face. Energy cannot be destroyed, only redirected, dispersed. Transferred. But how shall we do such a thing on a planetary scale?"

"We don't." Nemesis stalked forward. "They want to evacuate, don't they?"

Chromedome tapped his forehead, pointing at Nemesis. "Bright spark, there. Yes, that's why they built the Ark. Now, is that enough information? Will you help me already?"

Optimus glanced at the smaller Transformer. "Separate yourself from Straxus, and tell me of whom you wish to rescue."

Chromedome shrugged, and unplugged from the body, converting to a larger robot mode. "Always feels weird with that. Anyway, looking for my creations, Arcee and Elita-1."

"Elita-1?!" Nemesis exclaimed. All present turned to look at him. "I mean, er...go on."

Chromedome narrowed his visor. "Okay, so evidently my girls have one fan. Wonderful. Arcee's signal is back online, at the Ark. So I'm not worried about her."

"You can track them?" Magnus asked.

"Uh, yeah. What, is that creepy?"

"Perhaps only cautious." Magnus shifted on his feet, looking at Optimus.

"Elita-1's signal has been offline since this whole thing began. She's a good girl but I've no idea where she went. In fact, it's strange, but I believe she worked for you," he said, wheeling around to face Rewind. "What a coincidence that is."

"I do not know the whereabouts of all my former employees. I was taken into custody by the Autotroopers shortly before the war began."

"Uh huh. I'm sure that's what happened." Chromedome kept his eyes trained on Rewind.

"That is what happened. We handled it ourselves. Nemesis and I were once Orion Pax and Dion, your creation's coworkers. If she still continues to function, we seek only to return her to safety." Optimus knelt down, resting a hand on Chromedome's shoulder.

He shrugged it off. "Look, you guys can get buddy buddy all you want. I'm not interested in any of that. What I want is to get my girls and get off planet as fast as possible. If the Primes think the whole place is going to pot, I'm not keen on sticking around."

"Something else to think about too, Optimus." Nemesis crossed his arms, the truck grille on his chest glinting in the light.

"Yes?"

"Megatron probably knows everything too, including the Ark's importance. Remember, he killed Megatronus, and now he's working with Shockwave Primal. Ten to one says he's got the Prime's data tracks on a spool like a home movie."

"Then there is only one option. We seek to investigate one of the former Vehicon-aligned warehouses owned by Cryotek. Our plan was to investigate this warehouse well ahead of time, before the assaults on the HQ and Tyger Pax began. I say we storm the place." Optimus glanced around and saw only supporters of the plan.

"What are we going to do with the Seekers?" Ironhide said.

"They'll be fine here," Ratchet replied, entering the room. "They're power bonded, so I can handle them. I feel someone such as Rewind should remain behind to act as my assistant as I continue what repairs I can on the survivors."

Optimus nodded. "Rewind will remain at base. However, the Constructicons will come with us. There may be a need for..." he paused, thinking of the right words, "...devastation."

Nemesis smacked his fists together. "Now you're talking, Optimus."

"Autobots, I do not seek to prolong this war. Ours is a dangerous and perhaps futile charge: to halt the charge of a ideological leader, and the borderline fanatics who follow him. I understand if any of you wish to remain at base, but the more of you come with me, the more chance we have to stop Megatron, and end this before the arrival of the Chaosbringer." Optimus looked to each of them in turn, as the Constructicons filed in behind Ratchet. "Are you with me?"

Each of those present stepped forward, Magnus even going so far as to salute Optimus. Chromedome was the only one who did not. "You know, I don't think I need to go."

"And why is that?" Ironhide sneered. "Ain't got the spark for it?"

"As Magnus can testify, I'm a veteran warrior, bud. I'm a tinkerer, not warmaker. It's something more along the lines of you guys not having helped me with Elita-1 yet, despite getting a lot out of me."

Nemesis came up to Chromedome. "We will find her. You have my word. I'll scour every inch of Cybertron right until Unicron arrives than let her fall into the hands of either the Tyrannicons or the planetkiller."

Chromedome watched Nemesis carefully for several prolonged moments. This one has a bright spark for Elita, for sure. But he's nothing like that Dion kid she used to hang with back in the day. So much darker. "Alright, I'll come along. But you better not go back on your word. Dead bodies are easier to jack into, but that doesn't mean the living are off limits." He made a smacking sound.

"Ugh. Try not to overload my sensors, little guy." Ironhide blanched.

Optimus ignored them. "Constructicons. I know we have asked for your help in the past, and I would do so again. Will you help us storm Megatron's fortress, and defeat the tyrant?"

Scrapper shrugged. "Fine by me. I get paid by the hour, right?"

Optimus blinked. "I suppose."

"Then we're in."

Magnus leaned in and whispered to Optimus. "We don't really have the funds for that, you know."

"I'll figure out what to do about it later. For now, this needs to end. It can come out of Megatron's coffers."

Satisfied, the Autotrooper leader smiled.

Chromedome watched them all. This motley crew is going to take down a trained military force? They don't even act in concert. But it doesn't matter much. There's no real opportunity for us to win this anyway. Megatron won't be so stupid as to put all his sparks in one chamber. He'll have backup bases, secondary troops, reinforcements at the ready. The best we can hope for is catching them off-guard.

"Optimus, I do get to hop back into Straxus, right? That thing might be dead as a doornail right now, but it's useful in a fight. That hammer is impressively big."

The leader bot looked down at him, and Chromedome felt a strange kind of awe. There was no reason to, of course, but something about Optimus's construction hearkened back to the old days, back to when every bot was a titanic powerhouse, could take on a dozen others, even if they were peace lovers. He looked like a Great War unit, or even a descendant of a Prime.

"While I do not relish the desecration of corpses, here it is a valid tactic and one which must unfortunately take place. If you can displace enemies in lieu of Straxus during the battle, such an option is recommended. Being able to remove, say, Megatron's head and gain control of his body would allow us to defeat him all the quicker."

"You do realize he probably would lose function if I did that?"

"Hm." Optimus didn't say anything else.

How strange. He didn't seem to think much of that. Maybe the whole debacle with Starscream that he told us about is part of it. Whether he's interested or not in taking prisoners is soemthing I am curious about, though. It'll be a good way to see if he's as good as he says, or if he's another Megatron in disguise.

"I cannot abide a cancer in the web. Megatron must be stopped. No matter the cost."

Nemesis stepped forward. "For Elita."

Magnus put his fist out, and the group began coalescing. "For order."

Jazz nodded. "For everyone lost."

Ratchet chimed in too. "For the wounded."

The Constructicons shrugged. "You're all a bunch of stark raving nutjobs."

 

Quick update:

Next story chapter will be posted soon, and we're finally gearing up for the finale of the Cybertron arc. It's been a long journey, and I'm very pleased this story has been getting the reads it has.

I would like to once again let people know: this is going to be a story which is fairly grim, and people will die in it. If I kill your favorite or someone you like, I'm sorry, but it must happen for the purposes of the narrative. I really liked Skywarp, and, well, off he went. It has to happen.

Some mild setup for Books II and III has already been done over the course of the book, namely with exiles, some of the Ark's tech, and certain characters like Needlenose and Hound.

So here I pose a question: would you folks like to see Books II and III (which are set in different locations, saying anything else would spoil it) run concurrently, or run one after another? Either is easily produceable, and they do cross over into one another with Book III being the finisher.

Please let me know.  

 

Well, no one responded, so I guess I'll sort of play it by ear... I hope everyone's okay with the story and all.  

Oh, and since we're giving tidbits here and there before chapters: some interesting revelations in this chapter... namely about the Primes and the first full reveal of a certain hinted group.

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Chapter XXIX: Inexorable
Sentinel hesitated. To unleash the Blitzwings was his greatest fear. They were the ultimate weapon, short of planetary defense units. Unstoppable, potent, rage-filled and sociopathic. But what other option had he now? The Ark was going to be at risk. And no matter how powerful a defense he could mount, he feared Unicron might still arrive before the ship would launch.

Arcee was a problem too. The girl was young, but headstrong. The Blitzwings using her as a liaison between him and their team served well, but he worried for her safety. In the past, more than one ally had fallen to the rage of those bots.

And there is still the matter of the missing bots. Hound is still out there somewhere, possibly a casualty. Jhiaxus, the final counselor, fate unknown, possible betrayer. Sentinel rested on his throne in Vector Sigma's chamber, and rested his head in his hand. We were so close to continuing the peace, to escaping Unicron. And now we risk falling back into the darkness.

Vector Sigma whirled on its pedestal, making a strange whirring sound, and Sentinel looked up, furrowing his brow. "Vector Sigma, identify what your problem is," he said, not without a little annoyance.

"The computer has no problems, Sentinel," came a voice, speaking softly out of the globe.

Sentinel stood abruptly. "You!"

The golden globe reformed its holographic appearance, molding itself into a larger Cybertronian, one Sentinel knew well and had not seen for generations. Thick armor plates, purple with burgundy and cream highlight. Long, exaggerated facial plates. A central orb in the chest, with its own subtle glow.

Alpha Trion.

"Yes, Sentinel, I've returned. In a sense."

"Why did you not come in person? Have you grown afraid of the coming dark? Or is it fear for yourself that prevents your return? Megatronus is dead, after all. All of us are vulnerable." Sentinel crushed his hands into fists, the anger boiling in him. Another of the Thirteen to mock the false Prime. The irony is too sweet. Go on. Tell me how I have failed. How you must return to solve every problem, like you always thought you had to.

"Unfortunately, things are not what they seem." Alpha Trion hesitated. "My corporeal body is worse for wear."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Effectively, I'm dead."

Sentinel stared at him. "I don't understand."

"What you see before you is a construct. One which was programmed to ensure you received a bonus for the future, something to help you light your darkest hour."

"You refer to the Matrix of Leadership?"

The construct of Alpha Trion smiled. "No. The Matrix is not mine to give. Once the Star Saber has been found once more, the Matrix in its hilt shall choose the next warrior of light. A decision that belongs to Primus, and Primus alone."

"So what, then? And how have you died?"

The hologram looked at him sadly, and Sentinel felt a pang of regret. It seemed so real. So much like Alpha Trion, his once-brother. Burning shame coursed through him as he regretted doubting the other Prime.

"I was destroyed only a short time ago. The Covenant of Primus, the construct itself you see before you, is always written and shall continue being written. I merely here use Vector Sigma as a conduit."

"But how did a Prime fall when you were not even on Cybertron?"

Alpha Trion's face darkened. "Quintus Prime knows. I will not speak of it. As for the item of which I spoke, it lies beneath your precious Ark itself."

"You left before the Ark was planned. How could you know of it?"

The construct laughed. "There is nothing of which the Covenant cannot know. The universe is written into it by the pen of Primus. Nothing can destroy it, save the Chaosbringer."

"Then you know he comes."

"I do. I also know of the successors to the Primes."

"Successors?"

Alpha Trion didn't say anything. Sentinel's mind whirled as he sat back in his seat. Successors! Reformatted bots? Something different? No! He must mean Optimus and Megatron! Built and forged by Primes, to be powerful but just. One dark, one light. They are like Prima and Megatronus themselves.

"I will give you what you need. Here." Alpha Trion scrolled a hand through the air, and Cybertronix appeared hovering there, strange characters spelling out a stranger name. It seemed more akin to the name of a city than anything else. "This is your final bulwark of defense. The last bastion."

"I have many more questions, Covenant."

"Speak, and be heard."

"What happened to the other Primes? Can they be called upon?"

The Covenant of Primus swept a hand across the chamber, sending forth a splash of vibrant, iridescent colors against the wall. Each coalesced into an image of the Thirteen, with a fourteenth slot for Sentinel himself.

"Prima, the Warrior of Light: dead. Alpha Trion, the Quillkeeper: dead. Solus Prime, the Smith: unknown."

"Unknown?"

"The Covenant is not infallible. What Primus hides cannot be seen. Solus may yet play a role in the future, but the Quill has not recorded it."

"I understand. Please, continue."

"Alchemist Prime, the Citybuilder: dead. Amalgamous Prime, the Shifter: dead. Liege Maximo, the Silver-tongued: unknown. Micronus, the Swift: dead. Nexus Prime, the Combined: dead. Onyx, the Primal Prime: dead, though he may yet rise."

Sentinel opened his mouth to ask, but thought better of it. May yet rise? Why would Onyx be different from the other Primes? His beast mode? No matter. Let the Covenant splay out the deaths of my legacy.

"Quintus Prime, the Thinker: unknown. Vector Prime, the Singularity: a logical impossibility as he has always been. Thirteen, the Nameless: functional, and unknown. You, Sentinel, are also dead."

"What?"

"This is the reasoning behind the gift the Covenant offers you. Your death is inevitable. You cannot escape it, and you will die trying to save the Cybertron you love so dear. But your time is over. Thus, to usher out your chapter, we offer you the ultimate protector. We offer you the chance to redeem the dynasty of Primes, to give birth to a new hope of the age. Your Ark, to save our children."

Sentinel closed his eyes. A grim fate. Predicted to die by an all-seeing record of history. "Then I must call upon your weapon even at the expense of my own spark."

The Covenant waved its hand again, the ancient Cybertronix forming a more readable version of the same word. Something he could pronounce.

"Speak aloud the code, and know its name."

"I shall call upon the Metroplex."

* * *​

Elita-1 shook her head, optics fuzzing into consciousness. Something was happening, something big, she knew. She stared out into the haze and dust, and then her vision sharpened as she saw where she was. A corpse fell in front of her, and she shrieked, shoving herself backward away from it. The sound of metal bending and groaning, of bubbling melted pools, came to her aural sensors.

A smelting pool. A conveyer dragged her inexorably toward the first of the largest pools, a sequence. Above her, cranes dumped body after body, refuse of the new war, onto the belt. They would be melted down, reforged. None were functional save her. She tugged her legs out from underneath another fembot, shuddering as she did so. She jumped off the conveyer before it dropped her into the pool, grabbing onto a nearby hanging hook and landing on the ground with a clank. She inspected herself: no, still all intact. Her slim build hadn't been altered. Not even a scratch on her pale pink colors. Strange, but not something she would complain about.

Elita-1 crept from smelting pool to pool, trying to orient herself and figure out where the exit was. Naturally, minimal safety and lighting existed. This was an automated facility. No need for anything but the bare minimum. She stopped short as she went to move, patting her storage compartments. No pistol. Her only method of self-defense, absent. So her being dropped in this hole was someone's deliberate act.

A floodlight flared on her without warning, and she held up her hands in front of her optics. "Warning: unit remains responsive. Eject body from facility, or accept smelting procedure." It may have been the voice of Primus for all she cared. It never occurred to her it might be a hostile voice.

"Can you help me get out of here?" she called to the echoing darkness, the light preventing her from seeing beyond the small pillar of luminescence.

No answer came.

Then a thud in the darkness. Then two. Three. Ten. The floodlight shut off, and she winced, her optics still adjusting.

A group of Vehicons stood before her, with a yellow transport she couldn't identify in the front. One of the Vehicons knocked him on the shoulder. "What do you think she'll fetch on open market, Swindle?"

"A pretty penny. We found a nice score. Not to mention she doesn't have faction symbols. See? Fresh for sale to either side." Swindle's genial face turned harsh. "Pack her up. Megatron gave me just a few cycles before we begin negotiations, I don't have time to observe all my ops."

"You got it, boss. Any fun or roll it quick?"

"I said pack her up," Swindle snapped. He converted to vehicle mode, darting off into the recesses of the facility.

"Wait, I don't understand." She rubbed her faceplate. "You're taking me out of here, right?"

The Vehicons looked at one another, shrugged. "Sure, toots. Come with us, and we'll get you out of here."

They aren't lying, that much I can tell, but selling me on open market? Slavery is illegal on Cybertron. What's going on here? These don't seem too interested in that, not like the other one. Swindle? What a name. The urge to run never occurred to her either. After all, slavery was illegal. She must have misunderstood them.

The Vehicons approached her, and collected her. No roughness. No bothandling. Just casual contact. She followed them meekly, knowing that regardless of intention, they would at least lead her out of the smelting facility. She could figure out what she wanted to do from there.

Then an impact at the back of her head. Optics fuzzy, then black. Silence.

* * *​

Swindle wanted to scream. How could he run a business like this? Megatron was running things thin. The budget existed, it overwhelmed everything. Cryotek's Vehicon treasury was obscenely huge, massive, dwarfed anything in his wildest dreams. He could run an entire universe off the stuff, practically. But he was somewhat loyal, at least insofar to the guy who could have him killed in a heartbeat. So it wasn't like he was going to run off with the fortune, leave Megatron flailing in the dark. But still!

Why does he have to be so incredibly stupid? I am a businessman. I have things I need to do in order to keep the money flowing. At the rate we're going, no matter how infinite that treasury is, things might be a problem. I can't pack everything up and leave. That's not how it works. You also can't transfer all funds magically off planet in the event of a cataclysm. Swindle converted back to robot mode in the middle of the deserted streets of wherever he was (he was pretty sure it was the outskirts of Kaon, but who knew anymore? War blurred boundaries) and stared into the night sky. No buildings surrounded him, only empty wrecks of metal, once-war grounds and now nothing but fields of broken dreams.

Commodities. Commodities controlled everything. In a world of constant inflation, economic backstabbing and backbiting, the only consistent thing was product. If you had it, you could supply it. If you didn't, you couldn't. Thus, no money. Swindle had been trained very early to understand precisely how the relationship worked. The only product anyone cared about right now was weaponry. Whether it be the Transformers themselves, or weapons and ammunition, the war ensured there was only one market economy, only one product worth supplying. And unfortunately, Swindle couldn't keep things going indefinitely.

Megatron's coffers had been bolstered considerably by the Autobots, though he'd had no idea. Plenty of faulty weapons, ludicrous map data that had been outdated for stellar cycles, troop formations. But he had to keep things real, occasionally betray something of value, give them a real weapon, and that ensured a lucrative outcome.

Swindle neared the primary warehouse district in which the Tyrannicons currently organized the majority of operations. Kaon now still held its dim purple glow, looking like a cheap Energon bar in its entirety, and he converted back, feeling comforted by the glow on the Decepticon logo still emblazoned on his chest armor.

He paused, waiting to come closer to the warehouse. Something seemed off. Too few Decepticons around, even given the war's sucking away so much of the populace. He crept through the street, a whistling sound echoing down the street. He squinted, seeing something chrome glinting in the distance, but it slid into a side alley. Swindle suppressed a shiver. He was one of the Tyrannicons now. To attack him would be to declare war on the toughest faction on the planet, bar none. So why am I freaked out right now?

The whistle continued, not quite something an organic could produce but neither something he'd expect to hear in Kaon from any Cybertronian. He rested a hand against a metallic pole supporting a second upper strut on a building, then paused and took a closer look. The metallic pole had a ton of paint on it, glossed sheen, but scarred and pitted from fights. Unusual, given this part of Kaon didn't have a lot of brawls. Even more unusual, the paint was a deep reddish color.

Then it moved.

The pillar shifted back and Swindle was pummeled by a thick fist, sending him flying backward and smashing through a residential door and into the adjoining hall. His head lolled as he stumbled, getting to his feet carefully. What in the name of the Pit?

Then he saw it: the face. A flashed battle mask with grilles for venting on either side, two golden eyes staring balefully at him. A large Cybertronian stood before him, an Autobot symbol emblazoned on its shoulder. No: not Autobot, something stranger. A fanged mouth, more of a curved and rounded head. The design evoked fear in him. Some kind of shock trooper, perhaps. He pulled out his rifle and the thing simply reached a hand in, grabbing him by the leg and sending his first shot wild as it pulled him through part of the wall and sent him flying again, this time into one of the main vidscreens in the center of the square.

He collapsed on the ground, coughing up Energon. Think. Quick. How to escape. Can you escape? No, it's too fast. And it's not alone, it can't be. There was another, a chromed one. You have one option. Try and stay alive. Make an offer and negotiate if you can.

The strange hulk turned to face him and he stared. The thing was huge, but not that much bigger than Swindle himself. Thick arms with reinforced support. A cannon built into the chest. Folded up blades through its legs, probably from an aerial vehicle mode.

"What are you?"

Contrary to what he expected, it stopped coming closer and tipped its head back...and laughed. Booming, thunderous, crazy. "I only have one name, and it's what I'm always on: THE WARPATH!" Its voice was guttural, harsh, a cacophony in one vocoder. He slammed a fist down, the pavement cracking easily underneath the force of the blow, sending a rippled wave up that flipped Swindle backward.

This time, something caught him, and as he turned his head, a glint of chrome shone in his face. He turned around as another bot dropped him on the ground. This one looked colder. Black chest and arms, red detail. A thick chrome grille around the chest, calculating face, unemotional eyes. A cannon was slung on its back, two wings folded up underneath it. "Warpath, you need to settle down. We've been out of stasis for only a short while, and you can't keep it down for even five minutes?" Accented strangely, Swindle noted, the new one's voice seemed just as cold and scientific as he suspected.

"Blast yourself to scrap, Perceptor. Might as well have some fun!" Warpath started a lunge at Swindle when a third bot screamed down from the sky, converting from some form of vertical takeoff and landing craft into bot mode, landing uncomfortably close to Swindle.

This new one seemed more off than the others. A head, twitching to the side as if spasming. Thick faceplate, visor, almost a Cyberjet upgraded to the modern age, a classic jet Transformer in almost every way. "Warpath, Warpath, let me try talking to him, hey, yeah, Swindle, right? Got a gun? Shoot me, right here, come on, come on, don't hesitate, SHOOT ME!" the bot screamed, grabbing Swindle's rifle and putting it to his forehead.

A fourth and (Swindle prayed) final Transformer's fist smashed the suicidal Cybertronian aside, sending him into a crumpled pile. The voice was throaty, angered, but somehow strangely lilting. Heated. "Air Raid, settle down. You can die later. I don't expect you to be giving out free shots. You're not Fireflight, after all."

Swindle opened his mouth to speak. "I think the best thing here is to negotiate. All I want is to get back to my home base, and you guys want to find it too, right? I can help you!" His next words were cut off as the newcomer's sword plunged deep into his chest, nearly severing him in half. His optics dimmed, but he saw his killer, at least, burned into his optics: a barrel-chested, bulky, beefy Transformer, massive and imposing, with a kingly visor and faceplate.

"Shut up, Tyrannicon. Grimlock's no bozo." The last Swindle heard was the echoing laughter of the Blitzwings.

 

Beautifully done! Like the ground-bridge projector minicon. And the light-piping. And The Fallen not killing everyone in sight. And the two Primes tearing Cryotek limb from limb. *shudder*.Certainly can't wait to read more!

 

Grimlock + Warpath in the same squad = AWESOME!!

and are we going to learn what turned Brawl from the smart warrior he is now into the
raging beast we know him as

 

I wondered when Grimlock was gonna show, though I definitely didn't expect this!

 

Update bump:

Okay, so my thesis is finally nearing completion, but I need to focus on it for a while. Unfortunately, this means that while I've got the next chunk of Warhead all planned out and have been working on the next chapter, there will be a delay before I can post it. I do greatly appreciate the recent influx of comments -- I love hearing what people think, and I'm glad the Blitzwings seem to have been positively received; just wait till you see what comes next. The climax of Book I is gonna be wild. For light teasers of what to expect for next chapter:

-Shockwave schemes with his Minicon Blackarachnia...and a corpse.
-Soundwave and Thundercracker in candid moments.
-The Wreckers and a talk of loyalty.

And direct responses:

Nektann: Bridgeback is one of a few original characters, but due to my personal opinion that original characters tend to be a little cheesy or overplayed in TF fiction like this (especially given the sheer volume of characters in the mythos), mine don't appear much at all. Notably, if I opted to continue into a Book IV, I would introduce a significant amount of them. Glad you're enjoying it.

Gonefishin: They always seemed like they'd get along. Natural to put them together. As for Brawl, well, not everybody will be like their original selves -- Warhead isn't a retelling of the G1 backstory to lead into G1, but a new story entirely which will lead into another new story. Will Brawl become more like his G1 self, or something different? I won't spoil it.  

 

well skywarp is dead so no original self for him   as for brawl i really cant wait to see what you do with him. I just don't want him dead. and well since swindle is gone does that mean no other combaticons and no Bruticus?

the   is ment for a joke, i like skywarp. i just dont want for it to be mistaken as hatred

 

I'd love for this fanfic to reach a book four!

 

Skywarp is indeed dead. Poor Skywarp.

Swindle's dead too.

Does that count out Bruticus? I dunno. After all, history in Warhead has shown some strange combinations -- Wreckers as the Stunticons with Wheeljack as their leader, the three original Insecticons becoming Tripredacus, a three-man Constructicon team... so yeah. Doesn't necessarily count out Bruticus. Do I plan him...?

Hmmm...maybe, maybe not.  

Praise like this is lovely to read.

 

So my apologies for the exceptionally long wait, but there is some good news -- my thesis is finally done! There's still some more work before graduation proper but the bulk of the heavy lifting is over, so delays shouldn't be an issue anymore.

Here's yet another setup chapter. I realize we're having a lot of these before the final conclusion, but I promise you guys will enjoy the finale quite a bit. And we're very, very close. In fact, the following chapter will be the first of the finale chapters.

----------------------------------------------------------

Chapter XXX: Loyalty
Shockwave Primal examined the corpse on the table in front of him. No permission to examine The Fallen. Megatron did not trust him to examine the corpse: it was the only logical conclusion he could draw from the argument with Wheeljack. Or there was a suspicion he aimed to gain some form of power from the body, much as he did with the Insecticon. He peeled open the partially repaired chest of Airachnid, soldering a connection and leaning down, peering at it.

"Blackarachnia." The voice of Shockwave echoed into the laboratory, sending the sound bouncing off the walls. This, of course, was his private one, in the Rust Sea. He had bridged himself out of the Kaon headquarters after Megatron's rebuke. The lab's glow was dull here, no shining beacons or light. He could not attract attention. He was trapped here, a rat in a trap, rock on rock.

He is being fair to me. I have gained immense power from the acquisition of the Insecticons. I cannot perceive why he should trust me to deal with the body of The Fallen. Nonetheless, I hold myself to a higher standard. To be judged otherwise is unsettling. And illogical. "Blackarachnia, where are you?" He turned, and the spider Minicon scuttled forward.

"You will attach to this body, and keep it dormant in the event of activation."

The spider clambered up the table, sliding its legs into connection ports inside of Airachnid's chest. He strode over to one of the consoles nearby, reeling out a long hose, and attached it to Blackarachnia. Shockwave flung a switch, and the telltale glow of Dark Energon seethed through the hose, sliding into Blackarachnia and through her, into the corpse of Airachnid.

It began spasming. The Minicon kept the body from jittering too much and flopping off the table, or reanimating properly into a drone Terrorcon. He stared at the body for a time, and then hesitated.

Is this something I should continue? Megatron instructed me to feed on the corpse and acquire the Insecticons, but he did not give me instruction beyond that. Shockwave stiffened as he realized what he was thinking, how submissive he had become. He whipped around, looking at the control lever for the Dark Energon infusion.

He grabbed it, and shoved it forward to maximum. The glow intensified and the body began jolting itself, Blackarachnia burrowing deeper into it. He zeroed in on himself, ignoring it for now, and focused on the Insecticon elites, the trio.

"Kick Back. Shrapnel. Bombshell. Come to me. We have much to discuss."

* * *​

Soundwave opened her optic channel, scanning her surroundings. Bed. Ceiling. Restorative gear. Laboratory. Med bay? She shook her head, then paused, regretting the action as a wave of dizziness hit her. She reached a spindly hand up to her visor, feeling it, and noting it was repaired.

"You were out for a long time, kiddo."

She turned her head, and saw Thundercracker sitting there. She sat up. "How long have I been inactive?"

"A couple cycles, not long." The Seeker checked a readout by her bed. "We've been missing your talkative self."

In spite of herself, Soundwave smiled, the side panels of her visor shifting upward. The events of the previous battle came rushing back to her, and she sat upright. "What of The Fallen? And Megatron?"

"Megs is fine. He killed the Prime." Thundercracker pursed his lips, as if thinking intently. "Not exactly subtle, but a great way to announce the whole 'my way or the highway' thing."

Soundwave rose from the bed, and flexed her hands. Still functional, after being beaten by one of the Thirteen. A small comfort, given the war. "Then what is next?"

Thundercracker crossed his arms. "That's the thing. Megs doesn't seem to have any plan going forward. I mean, he's plenty smart, but we're all sitting around. Swindle's gathering up tons of resources. There's finding and taking down the Autobot leaders, and seeing about the Ark, but..."

"The Ark?"

"Oh, come off it, you know about it. A Spychanger like you?"

Soundwave said nothing.

"Suit yourself. Anyway, the Ark's probably the next target, but Megatron has us sitting here for nothing, and I don't know why. He's probably waiting for Swindle to get back before he gives us the go-ahead to shift to a new base, probably."

"A new base?"

"Wouldn't surprise me." Thundercracker shrugged.

Soundwave considered the situation. No action by the Tyrannicons. A battle must have been lost, one great enough to stagger the forces such that Megatron needed to bolster them. She reviewed the battle plans she'd been privy to, zeroed in on the most likely one. "We lost Tyger Pax."

Thundercracker nodded. "Thrust and Dirge were captured. Starscream nearly got scrapped if not for Ramjet saving his skidplate. Treadshot's dead. Who knows who else died. They firebombed the place. Incendiary rounds so heavy it's probably still burning."

"The Autobots do not exercise...tact." What an understatement: she had known Autobots far worse than some of the Decepticons, when she had spied upon them for Straxus.

Thundercracker glanced around, as if unsure who was listening, and came closer. "Hey, look. I've got a few questions for you."

She did not respond.

"Megatron's the big boss, but he's teetering a fine line right now with a lot of the troops. He only kept the Insecticons because of Shockwave. And knowing Starscream, he's already planning some kind of betrayal or takeover. What's to stop Shockwave from switching sides?"

Soundwave was silent.

"Oh, come on, 'Waves. It's me."

She hesitated. "There is nothing which would keep Shockwave with the Tyrannicons provided someone could offer him incentive and asylum. That his experiments and ingestion habits are unethical remain the sole reason by which Megatron can control him, as the Autobots would not tolerate such."

"But Starscream has no such moral fiber."

The pair sat in silence, the unusual lieutenants. Soundwave estimated Thundercracker. Much like herself, he was dedicated and loyal, but where she had a focused and clear motivation for it, he did not. Logically he should be aligned with Starscream, or have been with Megatronus instead of Megatron. Yet here the Seeker was candid. She detected no falsehoods. So why don't I trust him?

Thundercracker's eyes flicked to her faceplate, focusing on different parts of it, as if trying to get a read on her. Maybe that's why. He's too analytical for his own good. There's something about him that's too smart.

"Alright, I'll stop asking you stuff. It's obvious you don't want to talk. Shame." Thundercracker's lips turned up in a wan smile. "If you need anything, let me know. I think we're going to have some rough days ahead."

She nodded, and he left the room. She hummed a subsonic frequency, and slinking into the room came her three Minicons, Ravage, Bridgeback, and Laserbeak. She stroked Ravage's head as Bridgeback whirred and beeped at her. Laserbeak clambered onto her shoulder and rubbed its head against her.

"What should I do?"

Bridgeback beeped. Ravage said nothing. Laserbeak, in a rare moment of higher function, spoke with a lilting, guttural voice. "That's your decision. Whatever you decide, we will do it. With pleasure," it purred, nipping at her faceplate.

"Then we need to get the brothers."

Ravage let out a low moan of frustration. Laserbeak tilted its head. "When I said whatever, I was hoping you didn't mean them."

Soundwave intentionally modulated her voice once more, and set up a private comms frequency to Polyhex. "Rumble, Frenzy: EJECT."

* * *​

Barricade grimaced. It wasn't anything unusual, just his natural facial expression. But he felt a certain understanding now for the emotion most people expressed with it. There was so much going on and they were sitting around doing nothing. Nothing at all. That's what drove him nuts. He was a 'Con car. His job was busting people, whether it was for breaking the law (not that he worked for the Autotroopers anymore) or busting faces.

The five Wreckers sat in the middle of a lounge, unusually bare and with every window and TV shattered. One of the stranger rooms of the Kaon base. Drag Strip, sitting next to him, was detailing his hand. Ridiculous, that bot. But he had his moments of glory. Dead End, sitting on the other side, had his head buried in his hands. Paranoia. Cripplingly so, sometimes. About the only Cybertronians he could trust were his fellow Wreckers. Wheeljack paced the room with Inferno standing at attention.

"Can't we go scrap something?" Barricade grumbled. He shifted in his seat.

"No. We've got bigger things to think about," Wheeljack muttered.

"Bigger things?"

"The royalty shall instruct you when it is time!" Inferno snapped up straighter, saluting. Wheeljack rolled his eyes and smacked him upside the head, and Inferno shook it as if to dislodge something rattling around.

Barricade leaned back. "Out with it, Wheels."

"Look, are you guys happy where we are? As Tyrannicons?"

The question surprised him. Am I happy? Nobody's ever really asked that before. I've never been happy that I remember. Happiness is more about seeing a bot destined for the scrap heap finally bite it.

Drag Strip, in his usual vain mode of speech, chimed in: "It's all relative. As long as my glorious luster is intact, I'm all about being a Wrecker."

Dead End looked up, a gloomy expression on his face. Barricade noted his light piping was exceptional here, though why he couldn't say. "I want to stay with the team. I don't care about anything else. Don't make me stay out there." He shuddered, casting a glance over his shoulder at some unseen phantom.

"That leaves you, Barricade. Inferno we all know isn't much for disobedience. What do you think?"

Wheeljack looked at him intently. Something's going on with the big guy. This isn't because of the war, or because of Tyger Pax. Not even because of the Prime, all of us thought it was a thrill ride to help kill him. No, he's having doubts. But about what?

Barricade cleared his throat. "I can't say I'd trust the rest of the Tyrannicons that much, especially Starscream, but I'd be hard pressed to say I don't like it on their side. Autobots have never been my best friends."

Wheeljack rubbed a hand over the scratched out emblem on his chest, and murmured agreement. "Yeah. There's some interesting stuff in the works. I just don't know where we're going to go from here."

"What do you mean?"

"The Ark. Unicron. Megatron wants to attack the Ark, which might be the only hope of survival we have if Unicron comes to the planet after all. If we destroy it, we'll have possibly ended any chance of escape from Cybertron."

"Escape?" Drag Strip laughed, and the group turned as one to look at him. "There's no escaping from Unicron. We've all heard the stories. One of the Thirteen Primes was corrupted by him, that same one we barely managed to take down with the Insecticons (ghastly brutes, really) and Megatron. And now he's pure energy. How do you intend to escape from that?"

"The Ark will find a neutral zone." Wheeljack didn't seem convinced by his own words.

"There is nothing neutral. The universe as we know it isn't infinite. Even if it was, what's to say Unicron isn't going to come knocking somewhere else? There has to be a more permanent solution." Drag Strip coughed, and noticing everyone kept staring at him, went back to detailing his hand.

"I don't want him to find me," Dead End whispered, rocking back and forth.

Barricade slapped him on the back. "Relax, bud. You'll probably be dead before that happens."

"Barricade..." Wheeljack sighed. "Look, we're going to have to make do with what we have and play things by ear. I know it's not how we usually operate. We go in with a plan, we roll hard and fast, and we crush everybody. But this time there's not a chance we can prepare for something like this." He took a deep breath.

Here: this is what he's really been trying to say. Come on, Wheeljack. Out with it. Tell us what you're up to.

"I'm not saying we swap sides, but if there's a chance to save our hides, I say we take it." Wheeljack crossed his arms, waiting for what he doubtless thought would be an outburst of negativity.

Drag Strip shrugged. Dead End nodded rapidly, comically so. Inferno saluted again. So, as usual, it came down to Barricade. "Save our hides, huh?"

"Yeah. Problem?"

Barricade stood up, flipping one of his door wings forward to showcase what was written in Cybertronian there. "You see this? 'To punish and enslave'. Not to run like a coward. Not to betray what we stand for."

"What do we stand for, Barricade?"

The question caught his next words in his throat, strangled them. What did the Wreckers stand for? To wreck and rule? To punish and enslave? There was no real answer to the question. Wheeljack formed the bones of the team, and everyone else filled it out. "I don't know," was all Barricade could manage.

"Then what objection do you have?"

"I think it's cowardly. I think we should stay and fight. We always fight. We're the Wreckers."

"And how do you propose we fight a god?"

Barricade stood up, shoving Inferno aside and pacing the room, his feet stamping down on the ground. "I don't know, okay?! Maybe I'm a little annoyed because you're talking like you want to sign up with the Autobots. The Autobots! The same monsters who—" he bit back the rest of the sentence, rubbing his chest.

"Who tried to scrap you, and succeeded in scrapping your binary bonded partner. I know." Wheeljack put a hand on his shoulder, and Barricade shrugged it off as he turned around.

"You know, and then you talk about it anyway. So what sort of game are you playing here?"

Wheeljack looked guilty, his faceplate glinting in the light. "I'm trying to keep us all from dying. I'm not sure I trust some of our allies."

Dead End stood up now, clinging to Wheeljack. "Who?"

Wheeljack frowned and pushed him off. "Shockwave Primal, for one. He's an oddball, but he's also a cannibal. Not pleasant, but now he works with the Insecticons, controls them, whatever."

"Anyone else?" Drag Strip tried to seem uninterested, examining his hand, but Barricade could tell he felt it juicy enough information he wanted more.

"Honestly? I trust about all of them as far as I can throw them. Megatron's cut and dry. Same with Brawl and Rampage. It's Shockwave and the Seekers that bother me most, though. It's like they all have their own agenda."

"Don't we?" Barricade found himself saying. What a strange way to put it, but I guess we do have an agenda. Self-preservation, and crushing anything that stands before us. But without a leader to guide us to a battle, what good are we? What do the Wreckers fight for, really? Ideology? What a load of junk Energon.

Wheeljack put a hand out into the center of the group, and one by one, they each put a hand in. Barricade hesitated, then put his hand in as well. "Wreckers now and forever, boys." Wheeljack grinned, and then the room seemed to explode.

Loud. Cacophony. Fire. Four voices laughing. A gout of fire erupted from a doorway and Barricade dropped on instinct. Inferno got hit by it, but the bot was naturally resistant to flame. Find the target.

Four Cybertronians none of them had ever seen stepped through the hole in the Kaon base. A massive tanklike beast. A modified Cyberjet model. A scientist, chromed chest. And the largest and undoubtedly the leader, a barrel chested behemoth wielding a huge sword, already stained deep purple with spilled Energon.

The two groups stared at one another for a time.

Wheeljack spoke first. "Who are you?"

The leader of the other group snorted. "King. Grimlock, commander of the Blitzwings. You?"

The Wrecker leader hesitated. "Wheeljack, of the Wreckers."

Warpath slammed his fists together. "Grim, these are the guys. We can cut loose!" He stopped and looked down, seeing Arcee slide between him and Air Raid.

"And I'm Arcee, liaison for the Autobots. Shall we talk?"

 

Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving...giving thanks for slaughter!

Also, get ready for mass kills.  

In all seriousness, there's already murder happening in these chapters, and we're gearing up for our next major plot revelations. As these chapters continue, expect more killing, because I am not kidding when I say virtually no one is safe.

----------------------------------------------------------

Chapter XXXI: Flight
Megatron felt the concussion of the explosion from his meeting room, where he still awaited Swindle. "Tyrannicons, assemble!" The command was short lived, as the radio bleeped and fed him nothing but static. Jamming? An invasion!

The fist came out of nowhere, ramming him through a suddenly appearing groundbridge, and sending him reeling back off his command chair, skidding along the floor.

Ultra Magnus stepped through the groundbridge, with Optimus and Nemesis trailing behind. Magnus shook his fist. "I hope I didn't scratch your paint too badly, Megatron."

Megatron wiped his jaw, noting with distaste Energon stained his fist. "Hardly, Ultra Magnus. I should have known you and the Autobots would be trying to storm the front door. I imagine you brought backup."

Optimus strode forward. "No. We brought an army. Today, it ends. Today, your tyranny goes no further." Magnus stepped back as Optimus raised a rifle to point at Megatron's face, charging it up. "There is no justice to be served here. There is only restoring what was once the status quo."

"Think of what you just said, Orion!" Megatron hissed. "Restore the status quo? The oppression? Decepticons as wandering idiots with no purpose? The caste system?"

Optimus did not respond, simply pulling a tab back on the rifle to overcharge it. Megatron's glare darkened. This will not be how it ends. I refuse such a meaningless exit.

As if on cue, Nemesis fell to his knees, clutching his chest. He collapsed fully, thudding onto the ground with a metallic squeak, as Brawl came into the room, squeezing the Energon cage of Shockwave's design.

Magnus did not turn; Optimus whirled around and Megatron took advantage, tackling Magnus to the ground and shoving a punch into the other bot's face. Stunned, he lay on the ground, and Megatron rolled off him as Optimus nearly blasted a hole through him, the shot missing wildly.

"This is where it ends, Orion? Oh, yes, indeed. This is where I dismantle you, scrap all your Autobots. Then Sentinel, then the Ark, and then Unicron himself!" Megatron thundered, stamping a foot on the ground as he fired his fusion cannon at Optimus. The red and blue Autobot rolled to the side, and the pair exchanged fire, ignoring the others in the room. Megatron rolled behind the table while Optimus took refuge behind his commander's chair.

Brawl ducked for cover, but true to his obedient nature, he didn't interrupt the fight; he merely was content to keep Nemesis pinned.

"Nemesis!" Megatron bellowed. "What do you owe these Autobots? It is I who saved you from your life of pointlessness. I who kept you alive when the Terrorcon could have devoured you. And yet you still offer resistance? You still do not aid me against these traitors to our race, to the noblest cause of independence!?" The gambit was an ambitious one, but not one Megatron counted upon.

Nemesis stood, wavering, and Brawl let up on the spark cage to allow him to speak. "Megatron. I don't disagree with your methods. I don't disagree with your ideals. Independence? Sure." He paused, staggering as he clutched at his spark chamber. "But you don't want any of that. You want to win. You're driven." He took a step forward, trudging slowly, and then the teal of his optics lit up brighter. "You want to be Prime."

Brawl shook his head, but as he moved to crush the spark cage again, he found himself pinned; Megatron glanced over and did a double take as he saw Magnus wrest the spark cage from Brawl's hands. This won't end well.

Nemesis vaulted over the table, kicking Megatron in the head as he did so. "You want to know how it feels to have your spark tortured?"

"Nemesis, no!" Optimus said.

"Shut up! He's mine!" Nemesis picked up Megatron by the chest and waist plate, throwing him into the wall and denting it inward. Megatron shut his eyes, trying to recalibrate his now-fuzzy optics. They're so much stronger than they should be. They're Autobots. Weaklings. Why can't I kill them all?

Magnus pinned Brawl, and Megatron felt a hand at his throat; after a moment of focusing, he realized Nemesis had him by the throat.

Optimus walked forward, and the faceplate of the red and blue commander seemed forlorn somehow. "It could have been different, Megatron."

"And how would you have wanted it to play out, peacekeeper?" Megatron spat. "You're no better than me."

Optimus looked away.

* * *​

Kup kept a careful eye on Ramjet. This one served as his current jailer. The conehead stood on edge, unable to disobey his orders and go help wherever the explosions were going off, but he clearly hated being here.

"You don't have to stay, you know. I'm tied up, kid," Kup offered.

"Shut up" was all he got in return, with Ramjet pointing a gun at him.

"What's got you so spooked, huh?" Kup rolled his cy-gar around in his mouth. He smiled. "Oh. You think it's the Autobots. That this is a waste of time. Well, you'd be right there. They'd rather come for your boss than me."

"I said shut up!" Ramjet grabbed Kup by the neck and pinned him, pointing one of his arm-mounted guns in the old Autobot's face. "I put up with enough garbage out of Starscream's mouth to worry about you making it worse. You sit there and be quiet, or I will be removing your spark, orders or no!"

"You don't have the gut for it," Kup said. He blew a smoke cloud into Ramjet's face.

The Seeker paused, hesitated. Then he dropped Kup and roared in annoyance, stamping his feet up and down. "Why do all of you have to make my life so accursed miserable!?" He composed himself somewhat, started pacing. "First Treadshot has to die, now I get stuck on guard duty, what's next, Thundercracker comes in and tells me now I'm an Air Commander?"

"You're an Air Commander now," Thundercracker said breezily as he walked into the cell.

"What?!"

"Just kidding." Thundercracker analyzed both Kup and Ramjet for a moment, then smiled a second too late for it to appear anything but calculated. "The Autobots are here. They don't want him. They're coming for us."

"Can I go help?" Ramjet swallowed.

"Yeah. Scoot. I'll cover."

Kup tried to look uninterested as he sized up Thundercracker. One of the enigmas of the Tyrannicon army: sophisticated, but mysterious. Loyal, but with loyalty to whom? He'd worked for so many different Decepticons now. Even Overlord, during the first war, when Kup had met him so long ago. He was older now. Less naive.

"Been a while, sergeant."

"Don't call me that." Kup rolled the cy-gar around again.

"Sorry. You know I have to do some unpleasant stuff in my line of work."

"Your line of work? What are you now, a Spychanger?"

Thundercracker didn't respond, checked his hand armatures. When Kup opened his mouth again, Thundercracker raised his gun toward Kup. The Autobot grimaced, and braced himself, but when the Tyrannicon fired, only his power bonds were destroyed.

Kup looked at his hands. "I don't understand."

"You don't have to." Thundercracker crossed his arms. "I'm not a traitor, for the record. I'm working on something just a bit bigger than all of us."

"Thundercracker, I...why is he loose?" Ramjet said as he reentered the room. He snapped up both guns and Thundercracker drove a knee into Ramjet's cockpit chest, sending the other Seeker wheezing to the floor.

"Kup, go. I don't have time to explain."

"Thanks."

Thundercracker looked livid. "Don't ever thank me again, you filthy Autobot." With that, he dropped an elbow onto Ramjet's neck, and fired several blasts point blank into the back of his chassis, straight through the heart cavity. Ramjet spasmed, and died on the floor.

Kup paused at the door. "You've gotten cold, I see." The old Thundercracker would never have killed so callously.

Thundercracker's furious expression turned toward him, and was filled with anguish now. "Just go. Please. I...go."

Something akin to sympathy washed over Kup, and he wanted to go over and comfort the Seeker, but there was a truth in his words: going would be the best thing for both of them now, especially with the murder of Ramjet. "Thundercracker." Kup let the last words sound like a whisper. "Good luck."

Kup left the room, running. He had no idea where he would go. No idea where he even was. But if the Autobots were here, like Thundercracker had said, they would offer him asylum. The kind of dissension in the ranks both the Seekers had hinted at would be useful information indeed.

The halls wound and wove interchangeably, and Kup lost track of any sense of where he was. He began heading toward the loudest noises and explosions, stumbling through rooms. At an intersection, Chromedome strode in front of him, spotting him instantly as he visually swept the corridors.

"Headmaster?" Kup blinked.

"Hey, Sarge!" Chromedome's faceplate turned up in a smile. "Guess you managed to get out. We were looking for you."

"We?"

Chromedome motioned around the corner, and behind him came Jazz and Ironhide. Ironhide saluted, while Jazz shot him a quick two-finger point.

"Well, the gang's all here." Kup grinned, the cy-gar burning bright. "What's next?"

"Next?" A guttural voice purred its way into their aural receptors. The quartet went back to back, each of them covering one of the four hallways.

"Where is it?" Jazz muttered.

"I don't know. Close, though," Ironhide said.

"Wait, what's that noise?" Chromedome strained his head forward, and then cupped a hand to it as he leaned toward his hall.

Starscream in alt mode screeched through the halls and in a split second mashed into Chromedome, bashing him through the group of Autobots and down the hallway opposite, out of sight as he rounded a corner.

Oh scrap. This is bad. Kup tried to get up. "We've got to get to cover!"

"Too late," came Rampage's voice as the larger Tyrannicon dropped to the ground from the ceiling. A single backhand sent Ironhide reeling into the wall, dazed, while Jazz rolled into his vehicle mode and backpedaled to gain some distance.

Kup, unarmed, stood in front of the bold red lieutenant. "I don't believe we've met."

Rampage's mouth pieces shivered. And then he roared, ramming a fist into Kup's chest and sending the older bot skittering across the floor, his paint peeling as he squeaked along it, metal on metal. Jazz fired a shot at Rampage's shoulder, but the Tyrannicon ducked and fired a missile from his turret carriage mounted on his back.

"You! Jazz! The sniper. Always so coy, so casual. I'm going to rip you limb from limb! Nothing but pain!" Rampage screamed, grabbing Kup. He pulled the Autobot up as a shield, and Jazz hesitated, unable to fire accurately around the other bot.

Ironhide tried to leap onto Rampage, but the Tyrannicon jumped in the air and smashed him aside using Kup, sending both of them into a crumpled heap. Rampage covered the rest of the distance in a second, stamping right up to Jazz and booting him clear in the face, cracking his visor and crashing him against the next intersection wall.

"No more getting to blow up my missiles before they hit. No more shooting. No more living," Rampage hissed.

Kup groaned, looking up to see a rocket aimed right at Jazz's face as Rampage kept him pinned. No! I won't lose another Autobot! He grabbed Ironhide's gun, firing several shots into Rampage's back. Some swung wide, but most hit the mark.

Rampage roared in pain again, but grabbed Jazz and spun. Kup's steady stream of shots now intersected with Jazz's body, and he stopped firing, horrified. Jazz groaned again, his body pockmarked with holes; unlike Rampage, his chassis wasn't designed for sustained combat.

"Ha! Looks like you can dish it out but can't take it. How like an Autobot!" Rampage spat. "But we're done playing around. No more letting any of you live. I will hunt you all. I will slaughter you. I will massacre you all!" Rampage screamed. He grabbed at Jazz's chest with his other hand, and began pulling.

"No. You wouldn't!" Ironhide grabbed his rifle back, and took aim at Rampage's face.

"You can't stop me! You're too afraid you'll hit him."

"I'll take that chance!" Ironhide said, shooting a full barrage. Rampage raised up Jazz and the shots hit the Autobot again, and Kup slapped the gun out of Ironhide's hands.

"Don't be an idiot! He's got us for now."

"Not for long." Rampage's tone was quieter now, and they both paid attention. "You see, I don't keep hostages. I end them."

Kup stared, not registering what he said. Wait, does he mean...? No! No no no no! "Stop, please!"

Rampage cackled and ripped Jazz's chest in two as the Autobot screamed, his spark now visible and shattering from the strain, and Rampage dropped him like so much scrap on the ground, kicking him aside. "One down." He smacked his strange, flaplike lips. "Two to go."

* * *​

Starscream crushed a foot into Chromedome's stolen chest. "Straxus, or what's left of him. How the mighty have fallen." He ground the heel in. "And how the Autobots are so dishonest and immoral. Stealing corpses? Really."

"Coming from a traitorous Air Commander, that's big talk," Chromedome muttered.

"Eh? I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of how you're about to die!"

"That doesn't even make sense, Starscream!"

Starscream shrugged. "Which reminds me. Where are Dirge and Thrust?"

Chromedome sneered. "Like I'll tell you."

As Starscream sighed, Chromedome brought up the hammer and whacked Starscream off him, and the Seeker made a squeak of surprise and shock.

"Oh, come on, you're an Air Commander! Enough of the cowardice farce, you've never been that scared!"

Starscream straightened and smiled. "Well, I suppose. Theatrics are part of the job description too. I want my troops ready to be violent, and if they think I'm weak, I know who I can trust and who I can't."

"I don't care about your poor leadership skills," Chromedome snorted. He swung the hammer around, and this time Starscream caught it in one hand, pushing back against it and sending Chromedome off balance.

"Fine then. Let's talk about you." Starscream spun and kicked Chromedome in the stomach; it staggered him but caused no pain. I know he's just a Headmaster, the body has no feeling. Straxus, much as he looks partly alive here, is dead. Oh, my former master. How it pains me to see you so wounded. So weak.

"Me?" Chromedome recovered, spinning the hammer.

"The once scholar, once builder, once warrior, and now what? You work for the modern Autobots? It seems too convenient. Especially when I sense you had darker dealings."

Chromedome didn't respond.

"Touched a nerve? No matter. I've evidence. Megatronus's data logs proved you worked for him too. So who are you, Chromedome? What's your play, your angle? Who are you trying to fool?" Starscream pressed, pulling out a sword and matching the Autobot's next hammer strike.

"I don't have to answer to someone whose allegiance changes on a daily basis!" Chromedome wound up a heavier strike, and Starscream ducked, laughing as the Headmaster lost control and stumbled to the ground.

"Allegiance. You of all people swapping sides left and right shouldn't be talking down to me about it. I don't care if it's out of necessity, or a desire. You do the same I do, you hypocrite. But I intend to be on top. You are always nothing more than a follower," Starscream said. He raised both null rays on his arms and charged them.

The wall erupted in an explosion of fire and metal, knocking them both backward and away from it. Inferno's body lay in a heap, his optics dimmed. There was a gaping hole in his chest. Dead. Both Starscream and Chromedome shared a look, then moved as one to look through the hole and see what was going on.

Inside, the remaining four Wreckers stood and faced off with the Blitzwings, Warpath's cannons still smoking from the explosive power they held. A smaller blue Cybertronian motorcycle type stood in the center, yelling for them to stop.

How intriguing. And unfortunate. If these newcomers possess enough power to fell a Wrecker that easily, I imagine we won't stand much of a chance. Starscream glanced over to his right, seeing Chromedome still taking in the scene. In a split second, he decided: he shoved the other Cybertronian aside, converted to jet mode, and fled as fast as he could from the Kaon base.

 

Sorry for the delay, folks. I'm working hard at my job, and I've got some stuff that's come up real life wise + with school before my Master's graduation that is slowing things down considerably, unfortunately. But I am working to get it done! I apologize if things don't seem as tidy in story, too: it's hard working with so many characters in scenes.

I am trying to keep things good, though. Also, we're nearing the grand finale. Not much longer now, and then we're going to have the madness begin. I hope nobody's mad about Jazz!

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Chapter XXXII: Fire
Soundwave stood in front of Ratchet, Rewind, and the three Constructicons. The group sat in the midst of the deserted hangar of the Tyrannicon base, and she sat in silence watching them. She would not respond until they made a move. Better to put them ill at ease. She knew how frightening her appearance could be. The sky outside darkened, though whether due to storm or night she didn't care. The hangar's dilapidated and ill used, rusted bays would serve as an excellent arena.

The quintet of Autobots stood in silence as well, not even daring to discuss anything amongst themselves should it result in her attacking. Understandable. There was a kind of logical progression to that. In reality, she was merely buying time. Rumble and Frenzy would arrive soon, and that would tip the scales in her favor considerably. The Devastator she had seen slaughter so many Tyrannicons in the first sortie would be too much for her alone, undoubtedly.

"Enough of this scrap," muttered one of the Constructicons, the one she guessed to be Scrapper. He tapped his brethren, and shifted to get into a position to convert.

She held up a hand, and the Constructicons stopped. She darkened her faceplate, and lit the sigil of the Tyrannicons across it, blazing it brighter until the light consumed the room.

"Should you proceed, know you will fall," she said, her modulated voice echoing through the hangar.

"You know somethin' we don't?" Mixmaster sneered.

Soundwave ejected Laserbeak from her chest, having the Mini-Con perch on her arm, Ravage slinking around to crouch in front of her. She lowered her face. "Autobots inferior. Tyrannicons superior."

"Scrap 'em!" Bonecrusher roared, and converted into a bulldozer. He smashed forward from the group amidst Ratchet's pleas for him to wait. Soundwave did nothing, watching him churn the floor as he moved closer. When his bulldozer scoop came close enough, she converted to jet mode and blasted into the air of the hangar, converting back as she grabbed hold of one of the rafters. Ravage simply bounded out of the way.

Laserbeak twirled off her arm and swirled its wings through Bonecrusher's canopy as it slid into the driver's seat, sweeping the wings through the controls and sending the bulldozer crashing into a wall. Bonecrusher groaned as he tried to convert and temporarily failed.

Soundwave dropped to the ground heavily, and then glanced up at the remaining four Autobots. She beckoned them forward.

"Wait!" Ratchet said, slapping a hand against Mixmaster's body as he moved to attack Soundwave.

"Wait for what? Look at that bot, he's taunting us!" Mix shouted in Ratchet's face.

Soundwave resisted the urge to smile. Dissension in the ranks. Easy to sow when dealing with such appreciably volatile individuals.

Ratchet cast a look at her, and something in it gave her pause. She beckoned again.

"And what if we don't play your game, Tyrannicon? What if we just walk away? We don't have to fight you and your Mini-Cons," Ratchet said. "I don't know if you realized it, but we're not a large group here. We've still managed to cut to the quick and take out most of your troops. Even Megatron is downed."

Soundwave's face sculpt narrowed around the visor. "Megatron has fallen?"

"According to the information I received? Yes."

Soundwave processed this. Possibility Ratchet was lying? Yes, but unlikely, the medic was a straight shooter based on his biographical information. In addition, he would not risk the outcome of the fight based on this. She realized her mistake a moment later as she wheeled around, ignoring Ratchet: Bonecrusher's fist met her faceplate and dazed her as she was sent reeling backwards.

She recovered quickly, dodging the Constructicon's next blow, and swept a leg out from underneath him, vaulting over his body as he dropped. Keep them all in your field of view. You're outnumbered even with Laserbeak and Ravage. Focus on delaying until the brothers are here.

"Not so tough, huh, Spychanger?"

Her reaction must have shown because the Constructicons laughed as a group, while Rewind spoke. "Spychangers: a subgroup of Transformers known for exceptional reconnaissance and scouting abilities who additionally are involved in espionage and subterfuge tasking. Founded by the Decepticon Overlord and the Autobot Dai Atlas during the Knight Age of Cybertron."

All turned to Rewind and stared at him. "It's all publicly available information," he muttered.

"Whatever, trivia bot. Boys, let's mash it up." The Constructicons began converting to merge, and Ravage opened fire with his cannons, blasting them in their vulnerable connection joints. The group fell to the ground stunned while Ratchet cursed in Old Cybertronian, rolling to the side to avoid the fire.

Rewind instead rolled forward, under the fire, and tried to stab Ravage point blank; the turbofox leaped aside in time, letting Soundwave mash her foot into Rewind's back. Laserbeak harassed the Constructicons, and as she moved to rip out Rewind's optics, Ratchet tackled her in turn and pinned her to the floor.

This is taking too long. "Rumble, Frenzy: status!" she called out, before Ratchet punched her in the face. The medic's punch was nothing like that of the Constructicon Bonecrusher, and she shifted her jaw and kicked him off of her. No response from the brothers. They were either unresponsive, or imminent. She hoped to Primus it was the latter, or she would be scrap.

As if on cue, Laserbeak was swatted out of the hangar's small sky by a massive fist, the combined Constructicons looming as their Devastator form. So tall it almost scraped the ceiling, the Devastator looked down at them all and laughed. "So puny. So weak. You thought you could stop a Constructicon?"

Soundwave stepped backward, and when the Devastator laughed, thinking she was running, she planted her feet solidly and deployed her high force speakers and EM pulse guns.

"Get down!" Ratchet cried, toppling on top of Rewind and turning off his facial sensors just in time. She let loose the cacophony, sending a rippling wave of sound so powerful as to be visible, screeching through the air and smashing into the Devastator full-on, staggering it.

Soundwave stared in horror as it shook its head, black on silver, ignoring the blow. No Energon leaking from its skull as she'd hoped. No nothing. And then it laughed again.

"Nobody devastates the Devastator!"

"Says who?" came an urban accented voice, high pitched and almost tinny. Soundwave resisted the urge to cringe as she realized who it was: Rumble. The brothers were here, at the door. As Devastator turned to look at them, Ravage laid down fire upon the titan, doing little but scoring its armor.

"Who is that?" Ratchet questioned Soundwave. She said nothing. You'll know soon enough, Autobot.

A crunching noise was heard as a red and black blur rolled around Devastator's leg. The combiner crumpled to one knee, planting a hand down for support even as the ground trembled beneath its sheer weight. Part of the knee was impacted to the side, Frenzy casually leaning against the wall with one pile driver still extended.

"Like we always say: first you crack the shell, then you crack the bots inside," Rumble snarked, meandering over to sit by his brother. She had always tried to figure out what had drawn the brothers to her. Rejected protoforms, recycled protoforms. Turned into Mini-Cons for lack of any other purpose in the caste system. Viciously anti-authority, and only staying with her because of how she had comforted them so long ago. Identical body types too: short and stocky with barrel chests, capable of converting into smaller data disk modes to store in her chest.

Rumble, distinguished only by his blue and purple deco, snickered as Devastator tried and failed to get up on its wounded knee. Frenzy just grinned, red on black. "Yo, Rumble, think I overdid it?"

"Nope. Remember the whole gig is to help the big lady. She doesn't like this guy, I bet."

"Cassetticons: Operation: Devastation," she said coldly. Now the real fight begins. The Spychanger and four Mini-Cons versus your Autobots. Who will win? Answer: Megatron. Megatron will always win. I will never allow anything else.

* * *​

"Stop! We don't need to fight!" Arcee cried. She held up a hand in front of both Warpath and Barricade, the two bots ready to tear one another's heads off. Inferno's body lay nearby, blasted clear through the wall. Killed unceremoniously by Warpath, and for no real reason. Arcee regretted accepting Sentinel's offer of trying to tame the Blitzwings. They're nothing but monsters. No sparks at all.

"Sure we do, fembot. We're a bunch of ace killers, and they're a bunch of ace soldiers. We have different, opposing motives. What's not to get?" Drag Strip spat, his tone going from genial to snarling in seconds. He examined his nails for a moment, as if uninterested in combat...but hesitated raising his concealed pistol as Wheeljack put a hand on his shoulder.

"Drag Strip's got a point, girl. Besides, while this bunch of freaks are Autobots, and we've had more than one person on that side before..." Wheeljack paused, touching his emblem, the scored gash through it making him wince, "We still had one of our own killed. No amount of nice makes up for that."

Grimlock snorted. "Less talk. More death."

"Oh, I hope I get scrapped this time..."

"Shut up, Air Raid."

Arcee took a deep breath. "No, it's not right that the Blitzwings killed him. But there's been enough bloodshed. The war's going to end one way or another. We're not going to survive much longer if we don't cooperate."

"What do you mean?" Grimlock glanced down at her.

"She means Unicron. He's coming back." Barricade sneered. "Or do they not tell the big bad murderbots everything they need to know?"

"The Prime is more resourceful than we realized, sir," Perceptor commented idly, flicking some dust off his chromed chest.

"You're tellin' me! I say we go back and slag him!" Warpath pounded two fists together.

"Ease off, Warpath." Grimlock turned his attention to Arcee. "Is it true?"

She hesitated. If I tell them, they could go berserk. They might even switch sides. But if they find out I hid anything, the Tyrannicons will tell them anyway. I don't have a choice. "Yes."

Grimlock nodded. "Blitzwings: kill them and mop up. We've got bigger fish to fry."

"What?! No!" Arcee cried, but she was knocked aside as Air Raid leaped into the air, converting to a VTOL mode. He laid down fire on the Wreckers, who scattered in multiple directions, and followed Drag Strip even as the latter converted to speed out of harm's way faster.

Barricade dove between Grimlock's legs and came up in a punch that intersected with Perceptor's gut, the science bot wheezing as he grimaced, and he kicked the former Autotrooper away. Grimlock in turn was met with Wheeljack, the two going blow for blow, punching one another with abandon and forgetting any sense of higher combat or function.

Warpath was left to look for Dead End...and could not find him. He roared in anger, but even as he did so, a heavy hammer intersected with his head and knocked him dizzy; a smaller bot Arcee didn't recognize at first was there.

After a moment, it hit her. "Chromedome!" As one, the Blitzwings stopped, Grimlock taking Wheeljack's fist full in the face and not even noticing; even as the fist ground into his faceplate, Grimlock now ignored the other leader.

"Hey, sweetheart." Chromedome patted Arcee as she hugged him, and the Blitzwings literally dropped what they were doing and walked over to the hole in the wall Chromedome had emerged from. The Wreckers stared.

"You're back." Grimlock's tone was dead, tuneless.

Chromedome seemed unnerved by the presence of the Blitzwings. "I take it Sentinel put you in charge of the boys?"

"You know them?" Arcee blinked. To think his influences stretch this far. But he even knows Primes, so I suppose it's not unheard of. Not to mention he fought in the last war.

He coughed. "I, uh, built them."

"What!? I thought Elita-1 and I..."

"Were my only creations, but no. I've built a lot. Not all of it was as nice as living, talking bots." Chromedome looked down.

Warpath knelt down and pushed a finger into Chromedome's borrowed chest. "Bossbot, you shouldn't hit me. I know I'm a focused guy, but come on," he whined. Arcee tried to disguise her surprise at how servile the Blitzwings were being. It seemed unnatural for such hardened killers. And then Warpath shoved Chromedome back. "In fact, touch me like that again and I'll slaughter you."

"We're going to kill everyone at this point, Chromedome. Good job programming us," Air Raid muttered. "How am I supposed to die if nobody can kill us?"

"Hey! Focus on us!" Barricade roared, firing a missile into Warpath's back. It did nothing, and the Blitzwing about-faced, snarling. Grimlock caught him by the shoulder as he moved to kill Barricade.

"Wait." Grimlock turned back to Chromedome. "What's the goal?"

"The goal?"

"Target. Objective. Talk to me."

Chromedome's optics dimmed. "Escape before the world ends. With or without the Tyrannicons."

Grimlock nodded. "You take Arcee. We'll finish things here."

Chromedome hesitated, then nodded. He grabbed Arcee by the hand, dragging her outside.

"Wait, why aren't we staying? Chromedome!"

"Be quiet, Arcee!"

"No!" She tugged her hand loose, looking back before he grabbed her.

"Arcee! We have no time! None! Optimus has subdued Megatron and has him in custody. Do you realize what that means? If we finish things here and now, the war's over! We can start evacuating! Leave the Blitzwings. You don't have to monitor them like children!"

"So why are you treating me like one?" She pushed him away. "I can make my own decisions. I'm a member, however low ranking, of Cybertron's Defense Force. I will not stand down when my planet needs me." Her voice grew quiet. "Not even if you tell me to."

A loud explosion erupted from behind them, a gout of fire flashing through the hole and scorching Inferno's corpse. Chromedome flinched. "Look. They can handle things. They aren't going to go postal and kill everything in sight. And like I said, we have bigger things to worry about. Like Elita-1."

A voice inside her popped up. He's right. Can you be so foolish and selfish as to stay with the hardened soldiers over the bot who built you? You can't help them. You can't stop the fighting any more than he can. But if you help keep Megatron in custody, stop the reinforcements, you help stop the war. And what about Elita-1? You haven't seen her in so long, don't have a clue where she is. Her transponder was never reactivated, assuming she wasn't scrapped. She hesitated. "Alright. I'll go."

As Chromedome turned, she turned around and ran back to the hole, rolling through the still-burning fire. "Arcee, no!" Chromedome's cry sounded behind her, along with a loud curse. Perversely, she hoped it infuriated him, though she knew she'd feel guilty about the impulse later.

Inside, the Blitzwings clearly had the upper hand: Grimlock held Wheeljack in a chokehold, keeping the leader from moving. Warpath was hunting Dead End in cat and mouse games, keeping the bot from staying in one place for too long. Drag Strip and Air Raid were dueling with swords, Air Raid gleefully throwing himself in the path of every sword strike and blocking at the last second despite it; Drag Strip seemed to be enjoying himself despite the sheer effort involved. And lastly, Barricade was managing to keep Perceptor on his toes, dodging each shotgun blast and getting smaller shots in left and right, though they didn't do much to the least armored Blitzwing.

"Did none of you hear what I said before? Stop fighting!" Arcee yelled, stamping her foot. She felt childish, in spite of herself and her own thoughts prior, and tried to resist the urge to vent water through her optics.

Wheeljack broke loose of the chokehold, mashing an elbow into Grimlock's abdomen several times before the Blitzwing finally let go with a grunt. Wheeljack converted to vehicle mode, a heavy armored transport, and as he rolled forward one of his doors untabbed, the arm reaching out to grab Arcee; he stuffed her into his vehicle compartment and locked her in, bursting through the wall.

"Hostages! Only one way to get her back, Grimlock: let my boys be!"

Grimlock hesitated, looking to Chromedome, who had reentered the room only a moment prior. Chromedome nodded.

"Blitzwings: disengage," Grimlock snarled, flames erupting from his faceplate.

Warpath looked up in shock. "Boss! You're kidding!"

Air Raid casually kicked Drag Strip aside, jumping away and bouncing off of Warpath's back before landing in front of the pair. "No, he's not, and what else can we do?"

Perceptor finally managed to blast Barricade, sending the 'Con flying backward from the concussive force of the shotgun. He blew the smoke off the top of the barrel, and glanced at the rest of the group. "Oh, relax. He had it coming anyway."

Wheeljack revved his engine. Inside him, Arcee buried her face in her hands. I've ruined everything.