Transformers: Spacefarers (The Fanfic)

Discussion in 'Transformers Fan Fiction' started by Coffee, Mar 1, 2014.

  1. Coffee

    Coffee (╭☞ꗞᨓꗞ)╭☞

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    Prologue

    Cybertronians: robotic beings known throughout the galaxy by a plethora of names. Transformers, weapons of destruction, mechanicals, autonomous-robotics, monsters, but perhaps most commonly: mysteries. While the Cybertronians themselves claimed to have evolved from levers and pulleys spawning from the depths of their – now dead - home world of Cybertron, not one being in the Universe genuinely knew how they had come into existence. Even the ancients seemed to have glossed over their births in their texts. One moment they weren't there, the next moment they were. At this point in time, however, the organics of the universe couldn't have cared less about where the Cybertronians had come from as opposed to how to get rid of them. What was once considered an evolutionary miracle slowly devolved into a plague; spreading across the cosmos solar system by solar system.

    It began the day war broke out on Cybertron's surface. Over time the conflict operated as a poison, slowly eating away at the planet's sustainability until there was nothing left. When Cybertron died, its inhabitants took their quarrels to the stars. Unfortunately for the stars, not even the Tyrest Accord could quell the violence. Within the first year, a colony fell when an Energon substitute was found underneath its bedrock. No one batted an eye. Within the first century, the entire Galaxy was split between Autobot and Decepticon control. Separating these two factions were a pair of conflicting ideals: order, and conquest. As the war spread further, these ideals became shrouded under clouds of ego and megalomania. Both factions, Autobots and Decepticons alike, branched off into their own respective guilds - factions that held on to their previous titles and ideals, yet independent, and without the supervision of High Command. Dinobots, Wreckers, Combaticons, Stunticons, Insecticons. In time, some questioned whether there was anyone in charge to begin with, for with their numbers so far apart, High Command had simply given up on tracking them all.

    Battles for Energon, battles for glory, battles for the hell of it. Even those who avoided conflict were forced to take a life or two just to ensure their own survival. Where the Cybertronians went, death followed. However, legends tell of a single Cybertronian who will one day turn on his race and end the suffering once and for all. More on him later.

    Much later.

    -----

    Cartwheel peered cautiously over the crater’s outer rim; scanning the area through thick, green-tinted binoculars. Damn aging optics. He was recommended one of those built in extended optical scopes to expand his field of vision, but having your eyes bug out of your face whenever you wanted to scan an area looked downright ridiculous. So binocs it was. They had landed on the dwarf-planet hours ago, traversing it's rocky purple surface in search of the resident Autobot guild-building.

    Guilding. Cartwheel mused, snickering to himself immaturely. This didn't last long, however, as just like the last couple of outposts they visited, this one had been stripped clean and left barren. Dead whispers and decimation were all that remained of the crumbling structure.

    ‘This is bad,’ Cartwheel said, stating the obvious. ‘Fourteen consecutive outposts... and with this level of precision? That doesn't just happen.’

    His partner, a young, peach coloured Autobot named Horn-Drill, twirled a pistol around his index finger, grinning maniacally. ‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’

    Cartwheel sighed, his optics drawing away from his partner’s demented expression and back towards the crater in question. ‘What. That the Decepticons are back? Yeah, I'm beginning to suspect.'

    Horn-Drill hurdled over the craters edge, making his way clearly and carefully down the purple slope and towards the broken outpost.

    ‘Where do you think you're going?’ Cartwheel called out, bounding after the eager Autobot.

    ‘Where do you think? I’m off to kill some ‘cons is where I’m going!’

    ‘Horn-Drill!’ the impatient bot sprinted ahead, forcing Cartwheel to raise his vocal processor to the idiot. ‘Our job is observation! We’re observers, not fighters!’

    He wheezed as the aged ventilation circuits in his chest struggled to keep up. A vibration purred from his belt, it was his communicator. Optics locked on Horn-Drill, Cartwheel raised the communicator to his lips and answered. A firm voice, emitted from the main speaker.

    ‘Cartwheel, are you there?’

    ‘I’m here, Sonar. Can’t say the same for Horn-Drill.’

    One of the Autobots' chief communication specialists, Sonar was charged with filtering orders through the remaining outposts under Head Military Strategist: Prowl’s command. She, like many others in the barely existant Autobot hierarchy, worked in perfect comfort at the Autobot Orbital Command Hub where most filtering occurred.

    ‘He ran off again, didn't he?’

    ‘‘'Fraid so. With that kind of stupidity I'm surprised he hasn't gotten himself killed yet. Baffled, really. Anyway it’s just as Prowl suspected, the base has been wiped clean. No survivors.’ Cartwheel upped his pace as Horn-Drill scampered off and into the underbelly of the wrecked fortress. He was out of Cartwheel's sight. ‘Hold on a minute-- Horn-Drill! You there?’

    He called out.

    No response.

    ‘Horn-Drill?’

    ‘We’ll get back to you.’ Sonar replied. ‘Retrieve Horn-Drill and return for pickup. There's nothing left for us down there.’ The communicator sounded, and the line went dead.

    ‘Cartwheel?’ Horn-Drill called back. ‘I found a survivor.’

    Scratch that. Cartwheel darted eagerly down the slope and under the wrecked fortress. He arched around a thick corner to find Horn-Drill leaning over what Cartwheel could just barely make out to be a broken corpse. The body was limbless and nearly headless save for a lower jaw, crowned by a dark, mechanical blob stemming out from the throat (something that Cartwheel could only guess was the remains of a brain-module). Their torso was gutted, their legs crumpled into stubs. A pile of metallic tubes and robotic fluids stretched from his center.

    ‘Dear Primus…’ Cartwheel whispered, kneeling next to his partner. ‘You said he was alive?’

    ‘I did,’ Horn-drill pointed at the bot’s trembling lower-jaw. ‘Scrap, right?’

    Cartwheel shook his head in disgust. ‘Decepticons couldn't have done this, could they? I mean, they’re still Cybertronians-- they're still people. They wouldn't do...’ he shook his servos at the body, ‘this!

    He felt a sense of unease, though for once it was not as a result of the vivid gore that laid before him. ‘Behind his head,' he said, pointing, 'there’s some writing.’

    Horn-Drill carefully dragged the body aside for closer look. ‘Hey you’re right. That’s old Cybertronian, innit?’

    Cartwheel pressed a pair of digits against his lips, inspecting the writing carefully. ‘I can read it.’

    ‘You can? You never told me you could-- well, never mind that, what’s it say?’

    ‘It’s... strange. Very strange. It reads: “waiting.”’ he turned to Horn-Drill who stared back at him through widened optics. ‘Any idea what that means?’

    His partner didn't say a word. He was seemingly pre-occupied with Cartwheel's face. He had been staring at it the entire time.

    ‘Horn-Drill? What’s wrong?’

    In a flash, Horn-Drill whipped out his pistol and fired three shots at Cartwheel. All three had somehow managed to tear through his cheek and bounce off the large, hulking figure behind him. Grabbing the wound, Cartwheel span around to find himself faced with a large metallic creature, hidden within the shadows of the building to avoid detection. From the shadows, Cartwheel could only make out a multitude of limbs and eyes, like the kind of monster described in children's stories. It was then he realized that he was faced with the kind of creature people saw and never lived to describe.

    Horn-Drill screamed, firing his gun until it ran out of ammo, each shot bouncing off of the creature’s armored plating without creating so much as a dent. Before Cartwheel could pull out his own weapon and react, a long, bony tendril struck into his chest cavity, twisting through a maze of wires and circuits, piercing his spark casing and letting the energy blow the rest of his torso apart. Stunned, Horn-Drill did the sensible thing and ran, transforming into his drill-tank mode and driving as fast as a drill-tank possibly could. But before he could reach the other side of the crater, the large, metallic creature dropped one of its thin, long, angular legs in front of him, stopping him in his tracks.

    -----

    Sonar tapped at her keypad once again, frantically trying to boost the signal. She shouldn't have ignored the data interference. She should have sent some precautionary measures. But it was a short visit, and frequency blowouts happened all the time in space. How was she supposed to know her lack of caution would prove fatal? ‘Cartwheel, are you there? Please answer. Cartwheel?!’

    Her view-screen re-calibrated, and both their life signals fizzled and faded into a a spiral of pixels and data. She lost two soldiers. Massaging the bridge of her nose, Sonar turned to her chief, sitting across from her in his command chair with his back turned.

    ‘They’re gone.’

    The Chief failed to respond.

    'Prowl?'

    The Head Military Strategist shut his optics, plunging himself deep into thought.

    It would be long before Sonar got a response.

    -----

    But this story isn't about them, nor is it about the supposed chosen one of Cybertronian myth.

    For now, we place our attention on a completely uninteresting looking spaceship, manned by a completely uninteresting looking captain...
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 10, 2015
  2. Coffee

    Coffee (╭☞ꗞᨓꗞ)╭☞

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    Episode 1

    ‘You said the ‘P’ word.’

    Within the endlessness of space, dotted with star clusters, space-dust, comets and asteroids that decorated the universe in hues of reds, greens and violets, a lonesome gold spaceship flew. It was plain in design and had little outstanding features other than the four large thrusters located at its rear. Inside was a single Cybertronian. An Autobot. Broad-shouldered and blue, the robot was at a height only just above average with a large, red, upper body, and shoulders adorned with vehicle thrusters reminiscent of the smokestacks of an earthen truck’s. He was sitting in the dark and facing an active communications monitor. The screen illuminated most of what could be seen within the room and reflected a bright turquoise light across his clear, metallic face-plate. The Autobot was hunched over, holding his head up with a balled hand. He had heard this story dozens of times in the past.

    ‘To be perfectly honest with you, sir - and with no offense intended - I think you’re being just a little immature about this.’

    The blue robot scoffed. ‘“Immature," we both know who we're talking about here.’

    The bot on the screen had a wide, crimson face with a golden helm completed with a wide crest of the same coloured metal.

    ‘Prowl just wants to--.‘

    The blue robot snapped his fingers, jolting up in his seat as he did. ‘There! Again, you said the P-word again!’

    The golden robot paused, listening as someone contacted him on another line. ‘Uh huh. He says it'll only take five minutes.’

    He sighed. ‘Listen, Hubcap, and I'll tell you what is going to happen in "five minutes". In five minutes time, Prowl is going to start ranting about something "official", I’ll tell him off, five minutes turns into five hours, and we all end the day with migraines.’

    ‘Oh please,’ Hubcap said, woodenly. ‘Prowl’s not that bad.’

    The communications officer’s unconvincing tone did little to motivate the blue Autobot, responding only with a cold glare that read “are you serious?”

    Hubcap sighed, lowering his optic lids part-way. ‘Okay, fine, truth be told, Prowl’s been yelling into my intercom, and he's started reading out something… "official."’

    ‘Not fun, is it?’

    The corner of Hubcap's mouth twitched in relief, ‘Annnnnd there's the go ahead to force a call-merge, I’m putting him on.’

    The blue robot’s optic’s widened, and the screen fizzled, it’s image reformatting from the stout, gold communications specialist to that of a taller and narrow-faced Cybertronian. He was adorned with a white helm and a sharp red head crest. A pair of metal wings sprouted out from his back, though it was clear they were for decoration only. Further behind him were a number of robots moving back and forth against the dark black and blue backdrop that was the Autobot Orbital Command Hub.

    ‘Damn you Hubcap.’

    ‘Optimus Prime,' Prowl addressed, his voice was loud but firm. ‘Under the direct orders of Ultra Magnus, I am obliged to undergo a progress check of your... situation. Moreover, it is my duty to update you… on…’ Prowl paused, taking notice of the loud clicking noise coming from the other end of the line. ‘…You’re trying to sever the connection, aren't you?’

    Optimus ignored him and continued clicking the ‘end call’ button on the monitor’s touch screen. ‘No. Yes. It’s not working. Tell me why it isn't working, Prowl.’

    Prowl brought a hand to his face, massaging his right eye lid wearily. ‘I wouldn't know, it’s not like we hacked your ship to prevent you from severing out connection or anything.’

    Optimus stopped clicking, and frowned. ‘I didn't say anything about--.’

    Realizing his mistake, Prowl lowered his hand and practically yelled into the mic, ‘I’m joking, that was a joke.

    ‘Oh.’ Optimus leaned back in his chair, accepting the response. ‘Very well.’

    The head-crested robot brought one digit down upon the ‘mute-mic’ button on his console, and the other to the side of his helm. ‘Attention all tracking units...’ He nodded to Blaster, who sat at the other side of the room working on a large piece of machinery labeled “Ark Monitor 9000” on its rim. The Intelligence Bureau had gone great lengths to ensure their control of information flow throughout the Galaxy. Knowing who was where was a part of that. ‘Continue surveillance, thanks.’

    Optimus tapped his finger against the button once again, though at this point it was out of an act of impatience above all else. ‘You may as well tell me your “orders”, or whatever you want to call them.’ He paused. ‘Say, don’t I still technically outrank you--?‘

    ‘For years now, the Decepticons have been lying low,' Prowl said, cutting him off. ‘Their leader has sequestered into hiding. Their more war-savvy guilds have pulled off their assaults from our major colonies, knowing they cannot win. Most have constructed small settlements on planets of little recognition, content to rule their mini-empires on their own; galactic conquest being nothing more than a pipe-dream for them to fantasize about-- but never to achieve.' He paused, waiting for a reaction.

    'You told me this last time.'

    'I only mean to remind you of what is important.'

    There was a double-meaning in that that made Optimus frown.

    With no objections, Prowl continued. 'But for reasons yet to be explained, things have... escalated.'

    'How so?'

    'As of last week, over fifty-six Independent Autobot Squadrons have been burnt to the ground.’

    ‘And who else but the Decepticons, right?’

    ‘Precisely.’

    Optimus stopped, wondered, and replied in a quieter tone. ‘It’s a true tragedy, I admit.’ He sighed. 'But tragedies like these only act as a reminder for why I retired in the first place.' He looked Prowl in the eye. 'I'm sorry, but it's not my problem anymore.'

    Prowl wrinkled his brow. ‘What do you--?’ Suddenly, the chief's optics flared a dangerous cyan light as he struck his fists against his desktop, sending files and clutter clattering off the table and onto the floor, drawing more than a few interested gazes from within the Hub. ‘What do you mean it’s not your problem?! You’re a Prime! One of the few even chosen for the role! You’re not one of those self-appointing "Independents" like Grimlock, or Springer, or-or Chromia! You are in possession of one of the most dangerously advanced warships in history, and yet you've done nothing with it except aimlessly drift through space! You are a Prime, and you. Have. A DUTY!’

    Optimus didn't speak. He clasped his servos beneath his chin, choosing his next words carefully. A stray thought occurred.

    ‘My war's over, Prowl. If you need help fighting yours then by all means, go ask any of the other dozen Primes... Whatever happened to Sentinel, or Override Prime for that matter?'

    As much as he hated to admit it, Optimus was nobody special. The mere thought of being biologically related to one of the original thirteen was a rare enough requirement to gain the title of Prime, (being a descendant of Primus himself as required for the title of Magnus was like winning the lottery), but in spite of all this, Optimus wasn't the only Prime, and he was far from the optimum selection of the batch as his primary name suggested. He could recall a sharp shred of embarrassment upon re-reading the files on the currently active Primes nights prior.

    -----

    Name: Sentinel Prime

    Squadron Title: The Elite Guard

    Members: 93

    -----

    Name: Override Prime

    Squadron Title: The Velocitronians

    Members: 127

    -----

    Name: Optimus Prime

    Squadron Title: Team Prime

    Members: 1

    It didn't bother Optimus nearly as much as it would others, as he no longer cared for the sort of competition that existed between the Primes. After all, they were busy leading their own crews into conflict and raging their separate wars across the cosmos. Prowl’s voice snapped him out of his reverie and back to attention.

    ‘They are busy fighting on their respective front lines so that we don’t lose any more territory to the Decepticons, and that’s still not enough.'

    Optimus lowered his gaze, prepared to drown out Prowl’s words with his own thoughts. Maybe that would leave him alone.

    ‘Which is why we need you just as involved.' Prowl continued, his voice calming. 'I know you Optimus, you may not be the optimum soldier, so to speak, but you still trained for your position for most of your life, and that alone makes you a worthy force to utilize.’

    Optimus wasn't so convinced. If anything he was downright skeptical. He would never have "retired" if he wasn't already certain the rest of the galaxy was better off without him. Besides, one soldier never made a difference. Even Prowl knew that.

    When Prowl was without a response, he sighed, and spoke a single word in a soft but firm tone of voice. ‘Energon.’

    Optimus’s optics blinked back towards the screen.

    ‘I know you are in need of some. Even Arks run out of fuel sometime.' He leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands in a business-like manner. 'So let’s make a deal. You accomplish one or two jobs for High Command, and I will personally supply you with enough Energon to last you a megacycle. You will even be allowed you to select the job in question.’

    Optimus was prepared to retort, prepared to admonition, but instead sighed and raised his arms in surrender. ‘Alright, but don't get the wrong idea, when I say I'm retired, I'm retired. All of this hangs on the kind of work you're willing to offer.’

    The corner of Prowl’s mouth flickered victoriously as he read out the objectives. ‘I am willing to offer you one of two job options. Option A: there is an asteroid belt blocking the path of one of our trade routes, clear it out and you’ll receive your reward. Simple. Easy. Painless. Completely un-heroic in every sense of the word. Option B on the other hand is to solve the problem I spoke of earlier. Several Independent Guilds have been disappearing, and Magnus thinks it could be the result of some newly constructed Decepticon super-weapon. Just like in the olden days, when Megatron would come up with one on a weekly basis. Investigate the occurrence and, if possible, eliminate the threat. What will it be, Prime?’

    Optimus drummed a finger on his face plate before pulling himself out of his chair. It was a no-brainer. 'Okay, just tell Magnus that he need-not worry.’ Standing away from the terminal, Optimus mustered the most dramatic fist-pump he had ever achieved in his life. ‘‘Cause those asteroids won’t know what hit them!’

    -----

    Optimus dug a bright orange Energon powered axe into the asteroids tough exterior, sending chunks of space-rock shattering and spiraling off into the distance. The axe’s model was typically used for the clearing of objects for planetary exploration, though Optimus could have sworn he had witnessed either Ironhide or Chromia use one to split a con’s skull once upon a time. He had built-in magna-clamps to keep him connected to the surface. The magnetic fields replicated gravity almost perfectly; even his jumps were timed to spur the magnetic pull at the same moment Cybertron's gravity would naturally pull him down. The Ark was parked a kilometer away on the asteroids surface, left locked with its defense systems on in case some asteroid creature decided to jack it. It was unlikely, but Prime was always careful. With a catchy tune stuck in his head, Optimus hefted the large axe out from the asteroid, doubled back, and prepared to strike again.

    ‘I’ll take the long way ‘round~!’

    With no sound travelling through space, the task of striking an axe into a large asteroid became an awkward one with every impact seeming weaker than it actually was. Thankfully, this also meant that no nearby sentient beings would have to listen to Optimus’s singing voice, but that didn't stop him.

    ‘Oh I’ll find my own way down~.’

    He prepared another strike into the rock but hesitated, lowering his axe, Optimus found himself staring at its sheath. His mind wandering. His grip tightening.

    ‘As I should…’

    He lifted his head and gazed at the stars. He wanted to say they were the one thing in this Universe that never changed, but even he knew that stars burned out and died just like the rest of them. In fact, when considering their distance and the rate of the starlight’s travel, the orbs of light Optimus was observing could have very well been extinguished a millennium prior, not that he could be certain, of course; Optimus was never a bot of physics.

    He sighed, staring into the space that stretched endlessly around him. It made him wonder. ‘What am I doing?’

    He shut his optics and spoke. No one could hear him. Not even himself. It might have been because he never wanted to hear himself say it, and never expected himself to for that matter, but he said it anyway. ‘Prowl was right.' Once he started, he didn't stop. 'I've been doing absolutely nothing for decades now, and I-- what’s the phrase?’ Optimus paused to think and furrowed his brow. ‘I think I need to 'get a life’’.’ He stared at his axe and scoffed, ‘I’m not Grimlock, nor Chromia… and I’m far from anything like Magnus. But that’s where Prowl’s wrong, it’s not because they’re busy warring and I’m not...' He sneered, slamming the handle of his axe into the space rock at his feet. ‘It's because they have goals while I'm out here, talking to myself like a maniac; doing maniac cleanup duty under maniac Prowl’s-‘

    Optimus blinked, staring at his axe, then the asteroid, then his shuttle and back again.

    ‘-orders… why the hell did I think breaking the asteroids one by one with an axe was a smart idea?’

    -----

    His axe folded and fixed on the top of his cab, Optimus drove the short kilometer to his ship in his Cybertronian vehicle mode. It was four-wheeled with his rear ones noticeably bigger than those on the front, it was almost reminiscent to that of a “Tumbler”, a vehicle Optimus had observed in a movie back at his old training post. He liked modelling himself off of movies, they made him feel heroic. It was also where his tendency to monologue came from, though he would have thought his ability to do so would have improved by now.

    Driving up the ramp and into the Ark-19, Optimus did as his old medical instructor taught him, and grumbled on about his anxieties.

    Idiot. He had completely forgotten the existence of the Ark's outer weaponry. It had been so long since he had to use them that he hadn't even considered using them on the asteroids.

    Once inside the Ark and without stopping, Optimus’s body changed. Plates shifted over one another as parts contorted and extended until he was once again in his robotic form.

    He seemed to have been forgetting a lot, lately. Such as the Ark's landing gear, and its massive guns, and its fuel tank, and its massive guns. He slapped himself on the forehead. He must have been catching some kind of cabin fever from living alone for so long.

    Slumping into his command chair, Optimus decided it wasn't worth thinking about and gazed upon the main bridge. ‘Still, it’s a nice ship,’ Optimus muttered. The bridge was aligned with consoles with desk-chairs neatly tucked in. The stations were untouched and unattended. They had been that way for thirty years. ‘Albeit an empty one.’

    As he finished his sentence a high pitched whizzing noise filled the room. Optimus didn't give it a second thought at first, but it soon began to rise in volume. Sound was rarely filtered through the Ark, lest he be the one making it. He checked over his body for leaks or sprung gaskets. When he found none, he began to wonder.

    In moments, the Ark’s ceiling was torn apart. Shards of gold metal and multi-coloured wiring exploded apart as the bright turquoise and brown cockpit of a ship crashed through the Ark's hull, coming to a stop inches away from Optimus' face. The Prime squeezed the arms of his command-chair, his nose just barely touching the turquoise glass.

    ‘What.’

    A full-sized, Cybertronian spacecraft had nosedived into the grounded Ark, sticking out of its 'roof' at a 65 degree angle.

    Optimus leaped from his chair. ‘WHAT?!’
     
    Last edited: Sep 14, 2015
  3. Coffee

    Coffee (╭☞ꗞᨓꗞ)╭☞

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    ‘What,’ Optimus repeated, his legs trembling. The large ship crashed a mere seven feet from his command chair, and the shock of being nearly crushed by it's cockpit had a lasting effect. Sparks trickled from cracked monitors and equipment as loose, vine-like cables dropped from the ceiling, draping over the brown ship and producing white flashes of electricity. A light banging rattled from inside of the shuttles cockpit, growing louder with each vibration.

    Optimus readied his axe, prepared for whatever was about to come out, be it Decepticon or worse. With one last vibration, the glass shattered and out fell a large, jet-black Autobot, hitting the floor headfirst and landing upside down with his feet dangling in the air. The dark robot had a bulky torso with a dark red and black chest piece that appeared to form some sort of angled bul-bar, presumably one that would cover his front fender in vehicle mode. He had a deep, dark scar that ran over his right optic from brow to mouth-plate, signifying to Optimus a history of violence. His shoulders were broad, if only because they appeared to form the top part of his vehicle mode, but what made the bot stand out most were the pair of large cannons connected to his lower arms.

    Optimus stared at the robot, and the robot stared back, smiling beneath his darkened face-plate.

    ‘Optimus!’ he exclaimed, rolling over and jumping to his feet. The large Autobot bumbled over to the Prime before punching him playfully in the chest. ‘Who’d have thought that after all this time, in a universe as big as ours, I’d ever see you again?’

    ‘What.’

    ‘Good to see you haven’t changed!’

    Optimus squinted at the bot, he knew he recognized him, but from where, when? Unless… He placed his hands on either of the Autobots wide shoulders and let himself grin beneath his face plate. ‘Ironhide?’

    He nodded. Ironhide was known fairly well among the Autobots. Having fought in solitary, jumping from guild to guild, outpost to outpost, assisting and berating the squads stationed there. Optimus liked to think he knew him best, (though that wasn't necessarily saying a lot), having participated in the same academy by chance, and further co-operating in the same squadron thereafter.

    ‘I'm sorry, it’s been so long that I barely recognized you. And, well…’ Optimus motioned to the bot’s burly frame, ‘...you say I haven’t changed, but I’m afraid I can’t say the same about you.’

    Ironhide raised a crooked brow. ‘How do you mean?’

    Optimus observed Ironhide, from top to bottom, looking for where to start. ‘Well, you didn't always have that mouth plate, and your paint... You’re black now, why are you black?’

    A small bronze and silver Autobot popped up between the two, causing Optimus to take a wide step back in surprise. ‘Oh my God, sir, you can’t just ask someone why they're black!’ The Autobot was thin with a scratch-infested and silver-trimmed chest plate, fitted with bronze arm and leg guards. Silver spines stuck out of the bot’s head as an almost 'hair' like apparatus, that is, if hair looked like a cluster of blades. A pair of large, round, crimson optics rotated in place above their bronze mouth plate - watching in wonderment.

    Optimus waved his hand swiftly in denial. ‘Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that at all, I-- Ironhide, who’s this?’

    ‘Oh.’ Ironhide pressed his hands against his hips, blinking at the short, bronze robot. He shrugged. ‘Just some guy.’

    The bronze robot squinted at him in what looked less like irritation, and more like disappointment. ‘Girl…’

    ‘You don’t know the names or genders of your own crew?’ Optimus said.

    Ironhide shook his head. ‘This aint my crew, we just happened to hitch the same lift.’

    ‘We’re hitchhikers,’ the bronze robot explained. ‘The name’s Cog by the way, thanks for asking.’ She stuck a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to one of the two robots stumbling out of the ship behind her. ‘Over there is the guy we hitched with.’

    Sitting with his back and pressed against the front-end of the crashed ship was a short, aqua coloured mech with a yellow head crest ornamented with blue goggles above his optics. From what Optimus gathered, the bot was a flyer, as two yellow-striped wings stuck from out of the bot’s lower legs. Perhaps it was the head crest, but there was something about the bot that reminded Optimus grossly of Prowl.

    From his right came Ironhide, stomping over to the aqua coloured Autobot in a pace that couldn't have portrayed a more antagonizing disposition. Each step from the bulky robot seemed to make the room quake, causing dust and small slivers of debris to fall from the broken ceiling above.

    Ironhide placed himself in front of the sitting bot, glaring at him intensely. The bot lifted his head in response, unsure of what the large, dark Autobot looming over him wanted.

    ‘Hey,’ Ironhide finally said.

    ‘Hey,’ he said back.

    ‘You appear to have suffered some... optical dysfunction, upon choosing where to land…’ With the shake of an arm, Ironhide’s cannon’s clicked together and activated, emitting a soft whir as he moved closer. ‘Perhaps I can… rectify that for you.’

    The aqua coloured bot raised his trembling servos over his head in panic. ‘Look, man, I don’t know what you’re talking about, or what you want to do to my eyes, but frankly, I don’t like it.’

    ‘Funny, my cannons don’t like you.’

    ‘I don’t know what to tell you, guy, 'cause I can say with one-hundred-percent certainty that I have no idea what happened. The ship was on autopilot for crying out loud! You literally just pick a location, press a dial on the remote, and presto, that’s where it takes you. There must have been a splotch of cosmic rust on the warp engine, or a malfunction with the ship’s AI for all I know, because if you can’t already tell, this isn't how I wanted to end up.’

    Before he knew it, Ironhide was looming directly over him, a bright orange energy forming in the barrels of his cannons.

    ‘Is that so? Well, you know what I think? I--.‘

    Deciding he had seen enough, Optimus placed a heavy hand on Ironhide’s shoulder, pulling him away from the cowering robot.

    ‘Ironhide, enough.’ Optimus spoke in a stern voice he had used exclusively in his days as a squad commander. ‘This isn't how we do things, remember?’

    Staring at the Prime, Ironhide delivered a perturbed grunt, before lumbering off to find something better to occupy himself with.

    ‘Now then,’ Optimus crouched next to the sitting bot, placing a lighter and warmer hand on his shoulder. ‘What’s your name?’

    ‘Sky-Line,’ the bot answered.

    ‘Well, Sky-Line…’ Optimus’s face simpered into a sinister grin. ‘Do you happen to enjoy running… frolicking about?’

    Sky-Line smiled uncomfortably in hopes of breaking the escalated tension. ‘Eh? Not particularly.’

    Prime leaned forward, prompting Sky-Line to ask a question he would soon regret.

    ‘Why?’

    -----

    The next thing Sky-Line knew, he was outside; jogging along the rim of an asteroid with beads of oil dripping down his face, and his legs screaming at him to rest.

    ‘Great job Sky-Guy!’ Optimus called, forming a thumbs-up with his servos a few dozen yards away. ‘Only a few-hundred more laps around the Ark to go!’

    Sky-Line cursed through gritted teeth as he continued his trek.

    Optimus stood outside the Ark, his hands placed on his hips in triumph. The ship turned out to be an easy feat to remove thanks to its remote autopilot, and pulling it out of the Ark was a breeze despite its forward thrusters singeing the craft's overhead even further. What Optimus found at all difficult about the whole ordeal was having to adjust to having other Autobots around. He had been out on his own for three decades now, and while he was completely willing to stop and assist the needy neutral or organic in said time, Optimus had rarely any interaction with other Autobots.

    ‘You see, Ironhide? That’s how one punishes someone for wrecking my ship. Laps.’ He shook his head as he reminisced about his days in boot camp. ‘I always hated laps, never made any sense. The temptation to transform and drive the rest of the way made it even worse, but at least this way we won’t end up with assault charges like the last time you tried to punish someone.’

    Ironhide shrugged.

    ‘You, my friend, are a monster.’ The fourth and final hitch-hiker observed. He was a short, dark green bot with a square chest and a blue-tinted visor. He had three red crosses marked on his body, two on either shoulder, and one large cross on his forehead. He was grinning. ‘You must enjoy seeing others in pain, don’t you?’

    Optimus stared at him, mouth agap. ‘What? Of course not! Well, not real pain at least.’ He stopped. ‘I'm sorry, I haven’t asked you what your name was?’

    The bot jabbed a thumb at his face, ‘The name’s Incision. I’m a medical officer, see?’

    ‘Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you Incis--.’

    Incision’s grin broadened. ‘You get it? ‘Cause “Incision”, like how you - you know, with a scalpel?’

    ‘Yeah, I get it.’

    ‘But, do you really? Cause it’s like when you take a scalpel and create an Inc--‘

    Optimus craned his head away from Incision, ignoring him completely. ‘So, what’s on your mind, Ironhide?’

    The dark Autobot had his arms crossed, a shocking feat what with his large cannons normally getting in the way. He grumbled, ‘Just wondering where the skinny one-- Cog went off to. Not messing around with anything important, I hope.’

    ‘Relax, she volunteered to fix my roof. All on her own, even.’

    Optimus’s communicator buzzed. ‘That must be her now.’ His optics blinked in pleasant surprise as he answered the call. ‘Yeah... really? Already? You've only worked on it for fifteen minutes, are you-- well, good work! That was crazy fast!’ he lowered his communicator slipping it back into his belt.

    ‘She just finished.’

    Incision made a ‘rocking’ gesture with his servos. ‘Damn! Where’d she get her training, ‘cause I want in on it, that way I’d be-- I'd be mega awesome. More awesome than my name, which is Inci--‘

    Ironhide slammed a fist against the medical officer’s crown, knocking him into the large asteroids hard exterior, despite this, Optimus didn't seem phased.

    ‘Things seem to be looking up,’ Optimus said, watching the stars, ‘We've got a pilot, a medical officer, an engineer, a friend, it’s convenient that--‘

    He stopped.

    ‘Prime?’

    He nodded. ‘I’m fine, thank you Ironhide.’ He turned his head away, muttering to himself, ‘…It’s just convenient is all.’

    -----

    Sky-Line wheezed as he came to a stop to catch his breath. Hands on his knee-joints, he spat up a wad of oil and prepared to start up, only to stop himself once more. He checked his six and noticed that the Ark was blocking Prime’s field of vision. I might as well walk if they stopped watching me, he thought, and proceeded to do just that. He raised his upper lip at the thought of the cobalt coloured Prime. ‘’Can’t believe I have to do slag like this under a so-called “Prime”.’ he said aloud. ‘Why he's keeping that kind of title despite lounging about for the past thirty years I will never understand.’ He spat. ‘If Prowl doesn't pay me extra for doing this I swear I’m gonna--.’

    He heard the sound of rock crack under-foot from behind him.

    ‘Ah… scrap.’ He shut his optics and turned around, prepared to run more laps as punishment. ‘Look sir, I didn't really mean what I said. Really, honestly-- it’s like a disorder I have. A totally real and not at all fake--.‘ he opened his optics to see that it wasn't Optimus he was talking to. Nor was it Ironhide, nor Cog, nor Incision. Standing before him was a large, metallic creature with long spindly legs, multiple green eyes held together in a cluster, and a silvery-blue plating that reflected the space around them.

    ---

    Sky-Line’s screams echoed from behind the Ark’s massive structure, causing Optimus to act immediately, kicking up rock as he sprinted towards the source of the wail.

    ‘Who “AIIIIIIIID’d?!’ Incision demanded, trailing behind him.

    ‘That scream sounded feminine.’ Ironhide observed. ‘Cog?’

    ‘I don’t think so,’ Optimus replied. ‘It came from the other side of the Ark, which means—.‘

    Darting around the corner, Optimus skidded to a stop with Ironhide and Incision in tow. A few meters ahead of him was Sky-Line, or what was left of him. His left arm was torn open, exposing a canvas of circuitry and exoskeleton that reminded Optimus of his dissection studies during his younger days in med-school. His right had been torn off completely and replaced with thick grey wires that leaked a sickening green liquid. His legs were fused together in a mangled mess that would make even the Autobot Chief Medical Officer: Ratchet flinch. His torso had been ripped open, a flood of tubes and circulatory capacitors circling a crushed spark, torn out from within and seemingly gnawed at. What disturbed Optimus most from the gory canvas, was Sky-Line’s face, his optics blocked by a black sludge, and his head crest all but torn off. His glass goggles shattered, and his mouth hung open as if still in mid-scream.

    Ironhide looked unfazed by it, but turned away from the sight regardless, the same went for Incision who merely bowed his head in respect to the dead. Optimus felt as though he were going to vomit, but held it back for the sake of his image and shook his head thoughtfully. ‘What could have done this?’

    ‘Not the Decepticons.’ Ironhide growled, turning back to Optimus grimly. ‘Saying they’re bad would be an understatement, but none of them, not even Megatron, I don't think, is capable of doing this.’

    ‘Not on their own, no, but maybe they…’ he stopped to think. ‘I don't know, maybe they developed something capable of doing this. They always liked coming up with weekly weapons of mass-destruction.’ His eyes narrowed. It was all too familiar to what Prowl described. Optimus snapped his fingers, ‘Incision, you’re a medical officer, yes? Do you think you could do a biopsy? See what might have done this sort of thing to him?’

    Incision nodded. ‘Yeah but-- well for one, a biopsy might be a little pointless since those are all about the severing and sampling of skin, and without the equipment I--‘

    Optimus rolled his optics. ‘Fine, sue me for never finishing med-school, can you form a diagnosis?’

    I’ll do what I can.’ The medi-bot kneeled next to Sky-Line and in a flash, several scalpels, syringes and spyglasses flipped out from his wrists. His visor also contorted and shifted into a magnifying glass in one optic and a double-layered scouter in the other. Optimus was awed by the swiftness in which Incision worked, his magnifying glass darting from individual component to individual component as his lips moved non-stop, taking mental notes by the second. Incision stopped, converting his arms and visor back into their stationary modes. He turned back to Optimus and Ironhide who stared at him through eager optics.

    ‘Okay, from the looks of my scans, I can determine with absolute certainty…’

    He paused for dramatic effect; Ironhide and Optimus leaned in.

    ‘That he's dead.’

    They both groaned in unison.

    ‘You waste of space-- I didn't even go to med-school and I could have figured that out!’ Ironhide snapped, slapping himself in the forehead.

    ‘Are you sure you’re a doctor?’ Optimus asked, folding his arms.

    ‘What do you want me to say, that he was killed by a Decepticon? I can’t just open his brain and see what happened before he died, no one can.’

    Ironhide stared at the Ark. ‘Optimus?’

    ‘I wouldn't say no one. There have actually been quite a few cases that--.’

    ‘Prime.’

    He turned around. ‘What is it Ironhide?’

    The dark robot pointed a large finger at a large hole carved into the side of the Ark.

    Optimus groaned, flinging his hands into the air dramatically. ‘Why is it that I can never go twenty minutes without someone wrecking my ship?’

    ‘I’d be more worried about what made the thing than how to fix it,’ Ironhide mumbled.

    Incision raised his hand. ‘Hands up, who wants to bet that whatever killed Sky-Line did this?’

    Optimus grimaced. ‘Yeah, whatever it is, its in my ship. Which means.. it’s…’ Optimus spun his head to face Ironhide. ‘Which means it’s hunting us down when we're alone!’

    ‘So it’s--.‘

    Optimus sprinted forward and transformed, driving head-first into the circular hole. ‘Its next target is Cog!’
     
  4. Coffee

    Coffee (╭☞ꗞᨓꗞ)╭☞

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    Blow torch in hand, Cog carefully melded the remaining cracks in the ceiling, leaving nothing more than a few scorch marks in its place. The torch tucked itself away within the paneling of Cog’s arm as she stepped down from her step ladder, planting her feet on the hard, metal floor.

    That ought to do it. She dusted off her servos and prepared to tuck away the latter when she sensed a presence behind her. Dropping the latter, Cog could almost immediately sense that what was behind her wasn’t your typical Cybertronian and tensed her shoulders. The creature raised a thin appendage, preparing to strike as Cog spun around, facing the assailant with a large, weapons-grade hydra cannon reaching about twice her size.

    ‘Not today, punk!’ The barrel glowed a light cyan before firing a large burst of liquid blue flame that smashed into the creature like crashing waves on a ship. The mechanoid staggered back, giving Cog a better look at what she was up against. It was made of metal: that much Cog was certain of. It had the body of an arachnid, with a silver plated abdomen and multiple stalk-like legs protruding from the main body, its front end had a pair of blue, spiked mandibles beneath a cluster of emerald optical sensors, all focused on the bronze robot; rotating in naive curiosity on occasion. On its side was a line of letters and numbers, followed by a purple symbol. A Decepticon symbol.

    Cog prepared another shot only for her weapon to wheeze and sputter. It was overheating.

    ‘Damn it.’ She hit it with the back of her hand in hopes of snapping it back into a working condition, but it would only exhume blue exhaust. The creature advanced, its movements clumsy and jagged from the hit it stomached previously.

    ‘Ironhide!’

    Cog whipped her head to the command room’s exit as Optimus, Ironhide and Incision rushed in.

    ‘Open fire!’

    ‘And here I thought you were going to have me sit by and watch like a good lil' Autobot,’ Ironhide mused, charging his cannons. Orange energy composed within the barrels, brightening until Ironhide could feel the heat against his wrists. With a quick mental command, Ironhide fired two wide beams of orange and blue light, hitting the large parasite in its center and prompting it to let out a deafening screech. The creature’s legs skittered and skidded as it took another shot to the abdomen. Its massive legs dancing along the metal floor, attempting to regain its balance. The creature stumbled, using the lengthy recharge rate of Ironhide's cannons as respite to flee out the exit-way opposite to the Autobots. Optimus darted to Cog, offering her a hand.

    ‘You alright Cog?’ He eyed the hydra cannon wrapped around her wrist and frowned. ‘…Where did you get that gun?’

    ‘None of your Goddamn business.’

    Ironhide shrugged his shoulders as he approached Cog and Optimus. His cannons were smoking. ‘It’s retreating down the corridor.' He growled. 'Good work, everyone. Really... Did you always carry around that gun?’

    Cog flung her arms in the air. ‘Isaidit’snoneofyourGoddamnbusiness!’

    Ironhide blinked before turning to Optimus. ‘Speaking of guns, were you-?’

    ‘Nope.’

    ‘Were you holding your axe by the blade... pretending to shoot with it as if it were a gun?’

    Optimus pressed his thumbs together meekly, optics shifting from side to side. ‘W-why would I do that?’

    Ironhide shook his head. ‘I wouldn't know. I just reckoned we'd have a better chance of taking it down with a touch more firepower. Why didn’t you just use your Ion Blaster?’

    Optimus looked to the side, ‘I… uh…’

    ‘What?’

    ‘I returned all of my blasters to Wheeljack in exchange for spare fuel and Energon. Other than the Ark’s outer cannons, we’re essentially gun-less.’

    Ironhide responded with an icy glare. ‘You've got to be kidding me.’ Being gun-less was no way to live, to Ironhide.

    Optimus breathed a sigh and turned to Cog and Incision. ‘So in short, Sky-Line’s dead, there’s a monster on the loose in my ship, and frankly, I’m beginning to get a little annoyed by this whole ordeal.’

    ‘Anyone else get a good look at the thing?’ Incision chirped. ‘Because in my medical opinion-‘

    ‘I saw some sort of writing on its side.’ Cog cut in.

    ‘Oh… okay.’ Incision turned around, grumbling. ‘Go ahead and interrupt the small guy why don’t you… lovely.’

    ‘It read ARA – 003… followed by a Decepticon symbol, any idea what that means?’

    Optimus and Ironhide exchanged reluctant glances and huffed simultaneously. It was Optimus who spoke up. ‘To be completely honest with you Cog, the only damn I give about what’s printed on that thing is that symbol.’

    Cog nodded, cocking her cannon as it finished recharging. ‘So we’re fighting… what? Some sort of new Decepticon drone prototype?’

    ‘Something along those lines, yeah. Just before you guys crashed into me, I was on a vid-call with Prowl. He told me that a sort of anomaly has been wiping out outposts by the dozens, and if I were to guess…’

    ‘That’s what we’re dealing with now,’ Ironhide finished.

    Optimus nodded.

    ‘So what’s the plan, man?’ Incision asked.

    Optimus clasped his hands behind his back, slowly pacing as he explained. ‘Not call High Command, for one. We'll only risk more Autobot lives that way, and if we’re being realistic, there’s no reason why Prowl won't just set the Ark to self-destruct with it inside...’

    Ironhide tapped Cog lightly on the shoulder and leaned towards her audio-receptor. ‘Or he just wants to take all the credit for himself.’

    Optimus continued. ‘In short, our mission is to terminate the drone before it escapes the Ark, or - more than likely - kill us. First order of business is we split up, and--’

    The three Autobots burst into laughter, sending a chill of resentment down Prime’s spinal strut. He sighed. ‘I’m serous, the Ark is built in one big loop, if we split into groups of two, we’ll be able to cover more ground and corner the thing before it escapes the Ark to kill again.’

    Incision waved an assuring hand. ‘Okay, okay… just make sure your death-screams are loud enough so we know where to find you.’

    -----

    Optimus and Cog had their vehicular lights activated, illuminating the darkened hallway as they advanced. Having severed several circuits during the crash, the Ark’s overhead lights had dimmed to a soft orange-y glow. Cog was a few feet ahead of him, peering into each of the rooms with a refreshing sense of curiosity. Optimus remained unsure of how to approach her. He was still introverted from his time in solitude, with little idea how to speak to a single bot let alone within a group. Even Ironhide seemed… distant, and it wasn’t just his change in colour palette that made Optimus feel this way. Was he always this - what was the word - stoic?

    ‘Holy hell.’

    Optimus jogged next to her to see what she was on about.

    ‘This ship even has a swimming pool? In all my years as an engineer I’ve never seen a ship this high strung.’

    Optimus scratched the back of his helm. ‘Thanks? I mean, it is an Ark Class. Only Primes and Magnus’s are permitted to them.' He sighed. 'High Command still won’t permit me a bar though…’

    ‘Is that right?’ Cog wandered towards another room, outstretching an eager hand only to have it pulled back by Optimus.

    ‘Whoa there friend, you do not want to go in there.’

    Cog traced Optimus’s gaze of the room, it was compact, but its purpose was clear. It was a prison block. A short row of plexi-glassed cages lined either wall, empty thankfully, but the eeriness of the room remained.

    ‘Why? Is this where you keep all your porn?’

    Optimus glared at her in offense, ‘What? No! How would that even--? it’s--.‘ He massaged the bridge of his nose and sighed. ‘How do I explain it? This room is connected to a larger electrical circuit, it’s got outlets connected to each of the respective cells.’ He pointed a digit at a small red box nailed against the far wall of the room. ‘See that console over there? That’s the only thing keeping the circuit from turning this whole room into a massive taser.’

    ‘But what’s the point of--?‘

    ‘It’s our prison ward, the console deactivates when the glass is shattered. Therefore if anyone tries to get in or out, they get fried.’

    Cog nodded in approval. ‘The perfect porn stash.’

    Optimus beckoned her to move on, and the two continued their trek down the corridor.

    ‘There’s something else that’s been bothering me.’ Optimus said, staring forward.

    ‘Uh huh.’

    ‘You can fix a roof in minutes, you can pull a large cannon out of nowhere.’

    ‘Uh huh.’

    ‘You don’t expect me to just ignore that do you? You’re kind of a… what’s the phrase. Overpowered? No, you’re almost unbelievable. Where were you stationed before you hitched a ride with Sky-Line?’

    Cog barely made a reaction to the question she was asked, prompting Optimus to wonder whether she had heard him or not.

    Finally she spoke: ‘Honestly, I’m not supposed to say this to anyone but… I worked at Kimia.'

    There was a moment of silence.

    'Yes, THAT Kimia, hence why I’m filled to the brim with size changing equipment, Energon repair rays, and portable ladders-- classified tech that should never have seen the light of day.’

    'Yeah, you can never get away with ladders,' Optimus muse. He brought a digit to his face-plate. ‘I’ve heard rumors about that place. Rumors that they perform mundane experiments on POWs. That they go through terrifying procedures for the sake of the war effort. It’s just as the rules of the Galaxy state; Rule 1: Never go to Kimia. Rule 2: NEVER go to Kimia.’

    Cog chuckled. ‘I can assure you those rumors are false.’ She lowered her head, the spiny, silver bristles poking out from her helm vibrating at a slow pace. ‘No, wait, they're basically true.’

    The Prime tilted his head to the side. ‘Well, that's unfortunate.’ He massaged the side of his helm, trying to remember his original point. ‘I think what I meant from all this is that you’re, well, helpful, and I suppose it’s nice having other people like you around for once.’

    Cog’s optics squinted. A grin arched from underneath her face-plate, ‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t exactly have anywhere to go, so I might just stick around once this is all over, if you’ll have me of course.’

    He reflected her smile, ‘For once, Cog, I think I might just like that.’

    -----

    ‘It’s no wonder you don’t have any friends!’ Ironhide moaned.

    He was paired up with Incision of all bots. Why he still hadn’t bothered to tune out the rambling’s of the smaller green medic was anyone’s guess. After years of practicing the calming of his nerves, it took just one loud-mouthed brat to set everything off. It was taking all of Ironhide's power to refrain from firing a round into Incision's mid-section.

    ‘Look, I’m not saying I think I’m a better doctor than Ratchet, it’s because I AM a better doctor than Ratchet. Besides, I have tons of friends, like Sky-Li-‘ he stopped, realizing what he was saying. ‘Oh yeah, never mind.’

    ‘You’re lucky Prime convinced me not to inflict any ‘violence’ upon you, because as of right now I can feel the precise urge to rectify your personality; granted you give me any more lip.’

    Incision frowned at the much larger Autobot. ‘Does anything you say ever make any actual sense or…? Okay, so what about your friend? This Optimus guy?’

    Ironhide glared at the medi-bot with flaring, cyan optics. ‘What about him?’

    ‘What’s he like? I mean what’s he really like? It’s rare that we see a Prime retaining their rank nowadays. Hell, I doubt most guild outposts are run by anyone other than hyper-motivational foot soldiers at this point.’

    Ironhide faced forward and sighed as if he knew the topic was going to crop up sooner or later. ‘Would you believe me if I told you he’s actually a - what would you call it - a total nerd?’

    Incision pretended to look shocked, all the while waiting for Ironhide to explain himself.

    ‘Optimus and I went to boot-camp together, hated each other at first, but stuff happens-- whatever. We learned to tolerate each-other and ended up guarding the same outpost until…’ Ironhide’s fingers dug into the palms of his hands. ‘…until whatever. Knowing him can be boring sometimes. He liked to sit around and read, always decorated the base with those pine scented things… and he loathes violence.’

    ‘Well, he’s certainly in the wrong place.’

    ‘No kidding. Far too dramatic-- monologues and pontificates the worst speeches at the least opportune moments. Best to interrupt him before he gets too into it, I say.’

    Incision stared at his feet, trying to legitimately remember if he had ever met someone who he got to know as well as Ironhide did with Optimus.

    ‘But you know what? He’s also stupidly heroic. In a good way I suppose. Always helping out anyone he can. I feel like he’s trying to prove something, but I'm not sure I can put my finger on what… still, I appreciate having Optimus to rely on.’ He paused, turning around to face the medical officer, ‘It’s always good to know someone’s got your back, eh Inc-‘

    Standing behind Ironhide was the drone. One bony stalk stabbing Incision through his mid-section and another into the soft space between the medic’s throat and collar. They were both dripping in purple liquid.

    -----

    Optimus and Cog sprinted around the corner, facing Ironhide and the creature as it struck Incision’s body with the force of a jack-hammer, stabbing it until it looked nothing more than a large slab of metal. Ironhide provided fire, but only managed a few foul shots with Incision’s strung up body in the way. Cog placed herself at Ironhide’s side, activating her hydra cannon and firing short bursts of liquid-blue flame at the creature.

    ‘Optimus!’ Ironhide cried out. ‘It was my fault! I wasn’t paying attention, and he snuck up on me, and-- Dammit, it's my fault!’

    Optimus waved a dismissive servo at the ornery robot. ‘Forget about it and focus on the target, I’ll try to think of-- wait.’ Optimus pointed at the torn up bot in the drone’s grip, ‘What’s he-- Incision!’

    Incision lifted a weak servo and clumsily transformed it into a sharp, metallic object.

    ‘What’s he got there?’ Cog asked, dodging a strike from one of the creature’s long tendrils.

    ‘I know what it is…’ Optimus readied his axe, ‘that’s a scalpel.’

    Ironhide raised a brow, ‘What’s he need a scalpel for?’

    With what remained of his damaged vocal processor, Incision shouted his answer and raised the scalpel high above his head. ‘IT’S FOR APPLYING A MOTHERBOARDING INCISION TO THE FLESH, BABY!’

    He swung his arm backwards, stabbing the scalpel into the large cluster of optical lenses arranged on the drone's fore-front. It let out a loud screech, stumbling backwards and dropping Incision’s body in the process.

    As Ironhide and Cog provided cover-fire, Optimus sprinted forward, swinging his axe and slamming it against one of the creatures long, outstretched appendages before grabbing Incision by his broken collar. He dragged Incision away from the drone as Ironhide and Cog drew back their fire, taking backward steps as it began to catch its balance.

    Optimus gently pressed Incision against the wall and knelt next to him. ‘It’s alright buddy, you’re a doctor right? You know what I can do to save you... right?’

    ‘Optimus!’ Cog called out.

    ‘Not now, Cog…! Look, we’re going to kill this spawn of a glitch, even... especially if it’s the last thing we do, and it’ll be you who will be tasked with patching us up after, because that’s what you are, a healer, a fantastic one I bet, and I have all sorts of faith that you can pull us through this. Now tell me how I can fix you so that we can--.‘

    ‘Optimus…’ Cog was providing cover directly next to Optimus, the drone flailing and screeching in agony. ‘My scans… they--.‘

    The Prime reared his head, his brow arched in a fit of impatience. ‘What! What do you want?!’

    ‘…Incision died thirty seconds ago.’

    His spark plunged.

    Optimus examined the medical officer and suddenly it all became clear. The large hole in his chest, the cracked, dimmed visor, the brittle state of his damaged frame, the slight smile of triumph on his lips… Optimus stood up, holding back his grief for another time.

    ‘We should retreat back to the comms room!’ Ironhide shouted, his cannons already overheating. ‘It may not be able to see us anymore, but it can still sense us somehow. It can sure as hell sense being shot at.’

    ‘That’s really not fair.’ Cog said, turning to Optimus. ‘I concur. We can’t fight it. Not like this.’

    Optimus nodded solemnly and waved a servo for them to follow, ‘We run.’ All three robots transformed, Optimus in his four-wheeled truck mode, Ironhide into a compact heavy rig mode with the addition of his combined cannon’s on his roof, and Cog, who transformed into a bronze and silver motorcycle of sorts, with her font wheel almost comically larger than her back one. Optimus was unsure whether the drone could still sense them or not, but regardless, he had his thrusters set to maximum.

    The three Autobots swerved into the command center and transformed. As the last one in, Ironhide was the one to spin around and slam the door shut behind him, feeling the force of the drone tackling against it as he activated the locks.

    ‘Tough son of a gun, aren’t yah?’

    Ironhide turned to face Optimus and Cog, the former leaning over a computer terminal and punching in a number of keys.

    ‘What are you doing?’

    ‘I’m making a call.’

    ‘To who?’

    -----

    Prowl sat in his command chair, counting down.

    ’46…. 45… 44…’ the terminal rang.
     
  5. Coffee

    Coffee (╭☞ꗞᨓꗞ)╭☞

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    Prowl raised a rigid brow. Sky-Line had very specific orders to answer his communications ray at an exact time. He was fourty-four seconds too early. He knew his commands rarely needed to be fulfilled to the very last second, but Prowl still felt at ease to be as punctual as possible. Perhaps he was overthinking it. Perhaps he needed to relax. It was only Optimus, after all.

    He hastily answered the call and watched as Optimus Prime’s visage materialized on the screen. Ironhide was next to him.

    The possibility of this occuring was low, but not impossible.

    ‘Optimus Prime, I see Ironhide is with you.’ He paused, noting the Prime’s obvious distress. ‘Have you cleared out those asteroids yet--?‘

    ‘Cut the crap Prowl, I know Sky-Line was working under your orders.’

    Ironhide flinched at Prime’s suspicion, but Prowl retained his cold demeanor. There was no point in keeping up the charade, both were aware of that, and both were just as eager to have the argument settled and done with.

    ‘Alright,’ Prowl admitted. ‘I thought gathering some bots and placing them under your command would motivate you to get back into the fight. I was wrong. How did you find out?’

    He scoffed. ‘You really expected me to believe that my closest friend since boot camp, a medical officer, a pilot, and a skilled engineer, all happened to crash on my doorstep by chance? You were selling me the minimum requisite for an Autobot squadron!’

    Prowl shrugged, admitting his defeat. ‘Very well, and where is the rest of your ‘‘squadron?’’ I've been trying to call Sky-Line - to no avail - and there have been some developments I’d like to go over with him.’

    Optimus and Ironhide exchanged hesitant glances before nodding.

    -----

    ‘They’re WHAT?!

    Prowl was on his feet, his fingers digging into the sides of his control terminal as passing communications officers shot him awkward glances from outside his office.

    ‘Do you have any idea how much precision and planning it took for Sky-Line to find three Autobots, all fitting the required criteria -all hitchhiking at the same time?! Can you even comprehend the mere calculations it took to effectively crash the ship into the Ark and still retain minimum damage?!’

    Ironhide struck his fist into the palm of his hand. ‘So he really did crash the ship on purpose!’

    Optimus pressed his thumbs together calmly. ‘I thought you’d be a little more concerned with the dead Autobots than the process it took to get them here.’

    ‘Cog’s the most disappointing loss of all,’ Prowl lamented. ‘Her credentials and place of work are astounding enough as it is, but now that--‘

    ‘Cog’s not dead.’

    Prowl blinked. ‘Oh?’

    Optimus nodded and turned around, pointing aimlessly at the room behind him, ‘She’s right over-‘

    To his surprise, Cog was nowhere to be found. To his horror, the room’s exit was left wide open.

    ‘Slag! Ironhide, up front!’

    Ironhide nodded and dashed towards the exit as Optimus placed both hands on the comms terminal. ‘Prowl, if none of us call you back in thirty minutes, I want you to bring in Sentinel or Rodimus or whoever and have them blow up my ship.’

    To say the least, Prowl was taken aback. ‘… Are you certain you-‘

    ‘I am certain Prowl. I was an idiot before; I thought that I’d be able to handle this monster on my own. But I was wrong. I was wrong and I was selfish. I thought you’d have us demolish my ship in order to trap it, or take the glory for yourself, but you know what I realize? I don’t care. I’ll be happy as long as this monster doesn’t survive to take any more lives.’

    Prowl paused for the briefest of moments, then nodded. ‘As you command, Prime.’

    The connection was severed, and without hesitation, Optimus sprinted for the room’s exit. He came to recognize that this was the first time Prowl had ever spoken to him in the way he would another superior officer, let alone a sentient being. He had an inner loathing for Prowl ever since the surge, but seeing him nod in approval over the comms channel gave Optimus a sense of pride and responsibility he couldn't recall having prior. He peered down the corridor, calling out names. ‘Ironhide… Cog?’

    Optimus heard gunshots and sprinted towards the source. He came to a stop and skidded around the first corner, nearly bumping into Ironhide’s vehicle mode. Cog was with him, both unloading clip after clip at the large drone as it crawled across the ceiling.

    ‘Move!’ Ironhide urged, firing his vehicular cannon as he backed himself up. Optimus transformed, alongside them.

    ‘What are you two doing?!’

    ‘I have a plan.’ Cog remarked, activating her vehicular weaponry as the drone advanced. ‘Just follow me.’

    Ironhide and Cog did a 180, driving in the opposite direction of the drone, whose long lunges proved to be a faster form of travel than at first glance. Too fast.

    ‘It’s faster than us.’ Ironhide said, grimly.

    ‘We’ll make it.’ Cog assured.

    ‘No,’ Ironhide transformed. His legs sliding against the floor and leaving a trail of sparks behind him, ‘we won’t.’

    Optimus felt his spark bounce in his chest, ‘Ironhide, what are you doing?’

    Ironhide fired a charged blast from his arm cannon, hitting the drone dead centered into its shattered optic-cluster and sending slivers of shaven metal and flakes of singed plating ricocheting in multiple directions. ‘You guys do what you need to do. I’ll hold him off for as long as I can.’

    ‘And after that?’

    Ironhide did not respond, only taking the time to block a strike from one of the drone’s long appendages.

    ‘Damn you Ironhide.’ Optimus’s tires screeched against the floor as he tailed Cog. ‘If you don't survive this, I'll kill you.’

    Taking the lead, Cog swerved around yet another corner and into a familiar looking room with Optimus in tow.

    ‘This is…’ Transforming, Optimus came to terms with Cog’s plan the moment he set eyes on the first cell. ‘This is the prison block!’

    Cog placed a servo against one of cells, watching as the warmth from her fingertips formed an imprint on the glass. ‘If we can lure it in here, we should be able to trap it and zap it into stasis.’

    ‘Or death.’

    ‘That works too.’

    Optimus nodded. ‘Now the question is how the hell are we going to get it into a ce-AAGH‘

    The creature’s spear-like stalk pierced through the back of Optimus’s calf and out of his kneecap, inducing a loud scream from the Prime. As if by instinct, Optimus unfolded his axe, swinging it into the long appendage protruding through his leg and emitting a satisfying crunch into the drone’s bone structure. With a quick application of force, Prime’s axe cleaved messily through the creature’s leg, severing himself from the drone’s grip. The mechanoid screeched and stuttered backwards delivering Cog just enough time to drag Prime out of its reach.

    Optimus attempted to stand only to fall back on his knees. ‘I can’t- I can’t stand, there’s a splinter from the drone’s leg locked in one of my joints.'

    ‘Relax.’ Cog tried to sound assuring as she emptied another round into the creature to keep it back, 'We can just pull it out and--‘

    'NO!’

    Cog placed a warm hand on his shoulder as the drone drunkenly bumped against the sides of the entryway. ‘It will only hurt for a second. You know that. If we want to lure it in effectively we need you in peak physical condition. Besides, that’s… that’s not-' Cog stopped herself and followed Prime’s gaze. Dropping from the creature’s shuffling mandibles was a severed and torn limb, digits all but torn off and wires sprouting from both ends. The only part of the limb that appeared untouched was the large barrel-like cannon connected to the wrists. It was an arm. Ironhide’s arm.

    Cog wasn’t sure what to say, so she didn’t. Instead, she stood up, and followed her initial plan.

    ‘C’mere big boy!’ she taunted, firing a round into the drone’s jowls. The drone caught her scent and shook its body like a wet dog, squeezing itself through the doorway awkwardly. Cog darted away from Optimus and into the nearest open cell, drawing the drone’s attention to her.

    Optimus crawled next to the severed limb, pulling it towards his stomach like a child to a stuffed animal. The drone’s shadow passed over him as it set its attention on the bronze engineer in the cell.

    ‘Cog!’ he called out. ‘What are you doing?!’

    ‘It’s the only way this will work, trust me, I’ll be fine!’

    Optimus tried to move only for the pain in his leg to spike. ‘Don’t do this to me Cog, not after Ironhide… Incision. Please don't leave me alone.’

    Cog fired all that was left from her Hydra Cannon as the drone entered the cell with her, ‘If you want to help, hit the emergency locks, at least then what happens here won’t be without merit.’

    Optimus didn’t know what he planned on doing, but the first thing that came to mind was to rip the splintered metal stalk out from his leg. The sliver was in deeper than it looked, but it was nothing in comparison to Optimus’s agitation. He wrapped his fingers around the stalk and let out a throbbing roar as the appendage came free, black and blue liquids spurting out from the newly formed scar. The pain remained, but he could stand at the very least. Without a second thought, Optimus dashed to the emergency lock adjacent from the cell and swung Ironhide’s arm like a club; smashing the panel with it and setting the glass cage to close off.

    ‘I did it…’ he swung his head to the cell in question, ‘I did it Cog, I-‘

    To his despair, the drone was far from trapped, it’s abdomen stuck between the glass doors, forcing their way shut. It was standing above Cog’s broken and lifeless body. Optimus wasn’t sure if he was thankful or not that the bulk of the gore was shrouded by the creatures shadow, but regardless felt a growing sense of dread when he realized that Cog’s plan had failed. That all of their last stands were seemingly meaningless.

    He circled the wriggling drone and came to a stop in front of a glass cell at the opposite side of the room.

    ‘I’m sorry Cog, but I don’t think your plan worked.’ His grip tightened on Ironhide’s arm, ‘so let’s try mine.’

    The drone retreated a stalk into its ‘person’ and used it as a saw to sever one of its hind legs from the main abdomen, setting itself free from the closing glass door.

    ‘I knew it, you really are intelligent.’ He nearly chuckled. ‘You’ve killed everyone else, yeah? That just leaves you: a biologically Decepticon super weapon and me: a pointless Prime who’s made too many questionable decisions for a lifetime. Or perhaps in your optics, "prey."'

    The creature stared at him.

    ‘Well?’ Optimus put his foot down and spread his arms out wide, ‘You’ve already killed everyone else, so why not finish the job? I'm your prey, so what are you waiting for? COME. AND. GET ME!’

    Optimus was tackled with the force of a freight-train, crashing backwards and shattering the plexi-glass cell behind him. The next thing he knew, he was on his backside, shards of glass digging into his hide and using whatever strength he could to keep the drone’s mandibles from tearing his face off. He cursed the systems lack of response and instantly regretted not upgrading when he could. ‘Stupid low Energon reserves…’ taking the risk, Optimus walloped the creature with one arm and used the other to aim Ironhide’s cannon at the red box on the far wall behind the drone. Firing a single blast, the console exploded violently and in the span it took for the creature to pin Prime’s arm to the ground, the room worked accordingly and erupted with electricity. The massive shocks surged throughout either robot, leaving them both with a deathly pain aching throughout their entire bodies. Optimus couldn’t recall taking a hit worse to this prior, but felt mentally at ease. As long as the drone died with him, he would be forever satisfied. Just before shutting off however, Optimus felt a violent servo wrench his arm.

    -----

    Optimus wasn’t sure how long he had been lying on the cell block’s floor, but whenever it was, he wasn’t alone. He wanted to jolt upward and ask a thousand questions, but his wounds had taken their toll. He felt like death, and if he really wanted to, was prepared to fall back into stasis without a moments hesitation. It was the sound of the familiar voice that helped him focus.

    ‘’Bout time you woke up.’

    Optimus turned his head. He was too weak to smile. Sitting cross legged next to him on the floor and covered in bruises, slash marks and scrapes was Ironhide. He was manually reattaching his arm with a miniature blow torch built in to his index finger.

    ‘Ironhide…’ Optimus sat himself up groggily and stared at his friend. ‘Are we dead?’

    Ironhide scoffed. ‘What, you didn’t think I was going to die did you?’

    Optimus stared at him deadpanned. ‘How?’

    ‘I played dead,’ Ironhide said reluctantly. ‘It wasn’t difficult when you're leaking bad and got one arm missing.’

    ‘But… doesn’t that hurt?’

    ‘What does?’

    ‘Your arm.’

    Ironhide cringed, biting back the pain. ‘Like hell.’

    Optimus faced the cell across from them, the one where he had last seen Cog. From where he was sitting, he could not see her, but he knew what was left of her remained inside.

    ‘I didn’t move her yet,’ Ironhide said. ‘She didn’t die quite as… messily as the others, so-‘

    ‘No.’ Optimus raised a swift hand. ‘Stop. I don’t want to hear it.’

    Ironhide nodded apologetically, testing the joints in his arm as he made the finishing touches. ‘I didn’t touch the monster either.’ He said, motioning towards the cell behind Optimus. Behind the glass was the motionless drone lying flat on its stomach. ‘I can’t tell whether it’s dead or in stasis lock since, well, the shock only lasted a couple of minutes before the backup generators started running. And God knows how much punishment that thing can take. Luckily your special Ark-class glass managed to re-spawn itself good as new. That way we won’t have any zombie spiders to worry about.’

    Optimus nodded slowly. ‘Thanks for pulling me out when you did, Ironhide. I appreciate it.’

    Ironhide snapped his fingers and pulled a touch-screened communicator from his belt ‘Speaking of zombie spiders, I tapped in with Prowl for you, he’s been waiting for you over the phone.’ Ironhide handed Optimus the touch-pad. Pictured on it was Prowl’s eager expression, prompting him to wonder how long he was asleep for. His arms weak, Optimus lifted the weighted pad in front of his face so he could get a better look at the screen through his oil crusted optics.

    ‘Optimus Prime.’ Prowl greeted.

    ‘P-Word.’

    Prowl disregarded the informal address and got to the point, ‘Ironhide informed me of your success. I would like you to know the how abundantly grateful High Command is for your victory today.’

    What's it matter. ‘Three people died today.’

    Prowl raised his upper lip. ‘Billions died today, and with the rate this war is going, billions will die tomorrow, and the next day and so on. But after what you did here, stopping that abomination, many deaths will be prevented as a result.’ He stopped, understanding that what he said wasn’t what Optimus wanted to hear. ‘I’ll have a team sent to collect their bodies within twenty-four hours. They will be given proper funerals. I can promise you that.’

    ‘I still don’t forgive you for forcing me into the same situation I’ve been trying to avoid for the past thirty years, you know.’

    ‘Then I take it you won’t be reconnecting with High Command any time soon?’

    The connection was severed, and Prowl found his answer. The strategist stared at the darkened screen for what felt like minutes. ‘Optimus… you’re the one Autobot I can just barely predict.’ He turned to the large figure looming over him. ‘I still don’t understand what you see in him.’

    The figure was large, much more so than your average Autobot. With massive white shoulder pads towering above his head and limbs that could crush the life out of said average-sized bot. He had similar colours to Optimus himself only with a predominantly blue scheme and a much bulkier frame. Clipped neatly under his collar was a perfectly erect name tag that read what Prowl thought was the longest title in the history of the Autobot accord.

    Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord and Supreme Commander of the Autobots: Ultra Magnus

    ‘Potential, Prowl’ Ultra Magnus said. ‘Potential... and opportunities.’

    -----

    Prime kept his optics fixated on the communicator and allowed himself grin. ‘I’ll never say it to his face, but I’m actually a little thankful for what Prowl’s done. I probably wouldn’t have survived if he hadn't sent you guys. Maybe he really does care... Eh Ironhide?’

    ‘Optimus… the drone.’

    He hadn't been paying it much attention. ‘What about it?’

    ‘It turned into a… lady.’

    ‘Heheh…’

    He paused.

    Optimus twirled his head to follow Ironhide’s gaze. ‘What?’

    Inside the cell was a sitting Cybertronian, about a head shorter than both Optimus and Ironhide. The bot's silver and black colour scheme seemed to have been warped into a gold and pink. She had large shoulder pads that made up the abdomen, and a crumpled chest-piece that would form the creature’s head. Her helm was golden with four narrow optics peering out from within. ‘Oh!’ she jumped to her feet. ‘It’s happened! It’s actually happened.’

    Optimus and Ironhide stared at her dumbfounded.

    ‘Yes, YES! I remember now, he said I would gather a proper conscience once my T-Cog activated! Wow, so many things all at once- ARMS, I have arms! Wicked! And legs! Well, I already had a surplus of those when I started but-- oh hey! The voices in my head telling me to kill everything stopped, too! Thinking is pretty neat when you think about it. Hah! Wordplay.’

    She marveled at the duo and began to clap her new, inexperienced hands awkwardly together. ‘Congratulations! You’re the first ones to wreck my hide and force me out of beast-mode! That doesn't usually happen!’

    Optimus stepped forward cautiously. ‘You’re a Cybertronian?!’

    ‘A meta-gene, biologically enhanced Cybertronian, bred in the labs of New-Kaon… but a Cybertronian nonetheless, yeah.’

    Ironhide charged his cannons, training them both on the drone's humanoid form.

    ‘“Easy Ironhide”’ the prisoner said, imitating Optimus' voice. ‘That’s what you’re supposed to say, right? I have a feeling. You Autobots like to take things easy.’

    Optimus folded his arms. ‘Aim for the head. If she makes any suspicious moves, fire on sight.’

    ‘Or not.’

    The Prime leaned against the glass, glaring at the imprisoned femme. ‘I know you’re up to something. You’re smiling; Decepticons never smile in this sort of situation unless they have something planned, so what the hell are planning?’

    Just as he feared, her smile refused to falter. ‘Idiot. Out of the dozens of Autobot colonies I’ve torn asunder, ranging from around fifty to one-hundred bots, the two of you and those three lightweights happen to be the very first to capture me, let alone force me into stasis. Luckily, Megatron had a backup for that. Luckily, I'm connected directly to Megatron's inbox. The moment I utilized my T-Cog, a signal was broadcasted to the Decepticons head flagship, announcing my defeat and transmitting my location. And now, heh, now the most powerful Decepticon in the universe is on his way to clean up the mess.’

    Her grin broadened as she bared witness to the fearful expressions plastered across the Autobots faces. ‘That’s right, boys, Megatron is coming.’

    -----

    Miles and miles of space away, The Nemesis warped.

    And he’s going to kill you both.
     
  6. Ømnidrive

    Ømnidrive Stop.....think......fart.....and keep on going

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    WHELP.......:popcorn 
     
  7. Coffee

    Coffee (╭☞ꗞᨓꗞ)╭☞

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    Episode 2

    Optimus Prime scrambled over scattered equipment and tech as the Decepticon “drone” rambled on within her cell.

    ‘Blackarachnia… yeah, that’s my name, I think. Either that or it’s whatever I last ate before transforming.’

    ‘Would you shut up?!’ Ironhide gasped, tapping furiously at his communicator in hopes of reaching the Autobot Orbital Command Hub.

    The Decepticon scoffed. ‘Oh please, my mind has been downgraded to a lowly drone with the mental capacity of an animal just so that I could carry out my orders without hesitation. Now that I have it back, there are much fewer restriction on my mental prowess. See, now I can say whatever the hell I want-- or better yet, I can choose not to listen to you!’

    Ironhide growled, continuously pressing his digits against his communicator's brightened screen.

    ‘Hah, idiot, that won’t work,’ Blackarachnia continued to heckle the older mech. ‘The Nemesis is bound to have blocked any form of communication between you and the rest of your pals. So yeah, good luck making a bigger idiot of yourself while you're about to die!’

    ‘Dammit!’ Ironhide chucked the communicator against the wall and watched as it broke apart into tiny pieces of glass and wiring. Beaten, Ironhide folded his arms and slumped against the glass cell opposite to Blackarachnia.

    Optimus re-entered the cell block. He was empty handed and gently scratching at his wounds as he spoke, ‘Prowl said he’d send a pickup crew within twenty-four hours. We can’t wait that long.’ He stopped between Blackarachnia’s cell and Ironhide. ‘The Ark doesn’t have enough power for us to run, and Sky-Line’s ship is too damaged to ensure a safe flight. We’re going to have to fight this one out.’

    ‘You're joking, right?’ Blackarachnia sighed. ‘All cards on the table here-- you're going to die. That's like an objective fact when Megatron's involved. Fighting him is like suicide only minus the "no-suffering" part. And there's going to be a TON of that, believe you me.’ She wondered for a moment, grinned. 'Or you could just kill yourselves. Get it over with now, so Megatron can waltz in here and free me so we can move on to the next outpost on our list.'

    Optimus could feel his patience faltering. ‘I somehow doubt he’ll be that kind to you…’ he slumped next to Ironhide. ‘But she’s right, I’m barely a squad leader let alone a Prime. How am I supposed to fight Megatron? The guy founded a revolution for Primus sake. Not to mention the amount of damage--‘ he paused as Ironhide’s arm fell out from its socket and clanged against the floor. The dark Autobot picked the limb up, and reluctantly melded it back in place, ‘…the amount of damage we've sustained already.’

    Blackarachnia admired her handiwork and nodded, ‘Damn right.’

    Ironhide looked up from his re-fixed arm and placed a digit underneath his chin, ‘What if… no.’

    Optimus faced him eagerly. ‘What is it?’

    ‘Never mind, it’s nothing.’

    ‘It’s not nothing, literally anything can help us at this point! What are you thinking Ironhide?’

    ‘Well it’s-‘ Ironhide shook his head, obviously as displeased about what he was considering as he knew Optimus would be. ‘Cog had a repair ray built into her right? We could—I could reach into her and pull it out since she ...won't be using it... any time... soon.’

    Optimus was shocked. He'd expect the sort of soulless pragmatism from Prowl, but Ironhide? He was prepared to retort with a speech, no, a lecture on the respect for the dead. He was ready to do it, ready to let his rage and bafflement towards the idea fuel a long verbal attack. But he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. He held these temptations back through gritted teeth, and allowed it.

    ‘Fine. Do it.’

    Ironhide nodded and stood, staring aside at the cell in which Cog’s body lay. ‘You don’t have to watch, in fact why don’t you go out and search Sky-Line’s ship for supplies?’

    Optimus nodded slowly, then stood up. ‘I think that’s what I’ll do.’

    As he made his way out of the cell-block, Blackarachnia wasted no time in taunting him along the way.

    ‘What’s wrong Autobot? Afraid to see a little blood?’

    Optimus drowned out her voice and marched on, unsure whether he would live to see the end of the day or not.

    -----

    The Nemesis was the flagship of the Decepticon Empire. A dreadnought of massive proportions, built with its own set of sharp edges and inhuman shapes, all the better to strike fear in the enemy and awe-inspire the Decepticons around it. It had hundreds of rooms, hab-suites and facility’s for those lucky enough to travel aboard it, and was equipped with highly acclaimed and well-regarded weaponry, capable of taking out half of an organic city with a single strafe. However, the once gleaming violet halls had begun to mold, and many of the hab suites had become vacant with the Decepticon army’s current state of disorderliness over the past thirty years. Like the Autobots, Decepticons such as Bludgeon, Strika and Garboil had already formed their own independent units working outside of Megatron’s jurisdiction-- gaining their own set of followers in the process. Indeed, the Decepticon hierarchy had become an even worse mess than the Autobots in recent years. Of course, with the few hundred or so followers Megatron still had, he needed only a few of them at his disposal for his plans to progress. In fact, other than him, there were only four other Decepticons aboard the ship.

    Thundercracker rubbed his optics in a daze. He was a Seeker, one of the many hundred warriors in the Decepticon Aerospace Legion under Starscream’s command. He was light blue with pointed wings and had gold and silver highlights across his frame. By any one bot’s perspective, Thundercracker looked very… average, more so considering his larger chassis, but when placed next to his partner Skywarp and his Commander Starscream, it was obvious which of them was the runt of the litter.

    It had been long since he was treated to a good night’s rest and the constant flashes of violet light sparking throughout the Nemesis’s bridge only added to his building irritation. ‘I will never understand how this happened,' he muttered.

    The light flashed an inch in front of Thundercracker’s face, forming into a tall, dark seeker, similar in design to Thundercracker, but with a much bulkier frame. ‘How what happened, Thundercracker, my dude?’ The black and purple Decepticon, better known as "Skywarp" asked before disappearing into another flash of light.

    Thundercracker massaged the side of his helm with two digits, unsure of where to start. ‘Well let’s see, you disappear for three months, you don’t answer any of my calls, we send out search parties and file reports on your absence, and then - just when we've given up on you and prepared to label you officially MIA - you appear in my living room claiming to have no memory of ever disappearing in the first place.’

    Skywarp teleported upside down, hovering above Thundercracker contently. ‘Yeah, I mean basically. Sounds like a typical night after the pub if you ask me.’

    'You see, none of that would have bothered me in the slightest if it weren't for the fact that you returned with the ability to teleport!' He shook his head. 'I mean, maybe I'm the crazy one here, but I feel like that begs for an explanation!'

    Before Skywarp could speak, he was interrupted by an obnoxiously fake cough. It came from the third robot standing on the bridge, a dark seeker that Thundercracker as well as any other knowledgeable Decepticon knew perfectly well as Starscream: Aerospace Commander of the Decepticon Armada. While Starscream was generally the same size as both Thundercracker and Skywarp, his longer wingspan made him stand out as the most threatening of the three (something Thundercracker would have guessed he had configured on purpose.) He was red and silver in colour, with black and gold highlights on his head and broadened shoulders. His wings were fitted with a pair of large thrusters that faced upwards while his legs were bent with an extra joint between his knee and his ankle. He stood with an arched back and a self-glorifying stance. His expression as he turned to the others, however, was grim.

    Skywarp grinned dumbly. 'Oh, sorry Screamer, didn't see you there... acting all broody and junk in the shade.'

    There was a moment of pause before Starscream spoke. ‘You interrupted my soliloquy.’

    Thundercracker could tell Starscream had been muttering something, but he was simply too sick and tired to pay any proper attention to his commander’s words. ‘My apologies, commander. We weren't aware that you were—’

    ‘Talking to yourself,’ Skywarp finished.

    Thundercracker scowled at his flying partner. ‘That wasn’t what I was going to say.’

    'You were going to say something wrong? 'Cause I didn't say anything not-right.'

    ‘You and your derogatory statements have said enough,' Starscream replied, making a dramatic gesture as he glared at the black and purple robot. 'Next time, please remember to address me as Aerospace Commander Starscream-- as in, "the glory of the stars scream in terror from my presence"-- from the quote by the poet/dictator Trannis of Apex Fields. Not “Screamer." Screamer makes me sound like I... scream at things.' He moved in close to the pair of smaller jets. 'Do I do that? Do I raise my vocal processor to such volumes that it is worth labeling me with such nonsense?' He waited for a response, then screamed: 'DO I?!'

    Skywarp leaned over to Thundercracker, whispering. 'Is that a trick question, or-- how am I supposed to respond to this?'

    He arched his upper lip in disgust. ‘You know what? Yeah. I might as well be talking to myself. It's not like there's any other form of intelligent life on this craft anyway.’

    Idiot.
    Thundercracker thought. Starscream believed he was the most intelligent being on board, but in Thundercracker's eyes, Starscream was short of another war-mongering sadist; living for nothing more than to kill and to try and make himself look good while doing it. He was a maniac... and Thundercracker served him.

    Starscream cleared his throat, ‘Now, for my soliloquy… ah, yes. For as I am deeply humbled to be chosen for such a mission, it is only understandable that Megatron would choose his most adept combatants to fight for him in-

    ‘What about Soundwave?’

    Starscream frowned at Skywarp, hovering in place next to the solemn Thundercracker. ‘What about him?’

    Skywarp folded his arms in thought. ‘Well, he's a pretty smart guy, right? He's been with us since the beginning at least. Megatron keeps him around too, so he's probably there for some reason, eh boss?’ There was a thin grin across Skywarp's lips. He was obviously trying to start something, though Thundercracker appeared to have been the only one to realize it.

    Starscream chuckled quietly, ‘Wanna hear a secret, Skywarp? Soundwave's a hack who weaseled his way into the Decepticon High Command through aft-kissing and blackmail. He's a suck up, a fraud-- he’s... he’s.' His optics lowered and his body slouched. 'He's standing right behind me, isn’t he?’

    Skywarp burst into laughter as Starscream turned around only to find himself faced with the Decepticons' Head of Communications: Soundwave. Bulkier than Starscream and just as tall, Soundwave stood in a typical military stance as expected from someone as obedient as himself, a far cry from Starscream’s more laidback posture. He was silvery-blue with a maroon coloured faceplate and highlights. His face was hidden behind a dark blue visor where four, pink tinted optics could only just be spotted through it from up close. He had wide ovals of blue light located across his chest and down his arms, both of which were longer and thicker than the norm, stretching abnormally to his ankles rather than the conventional ‘just below the waist’. This appearance was just one of the many elements that attributed to the very limited amount of people that would consider Soundwave a friend, let alone a likable acquaintance.

    The two Decepticons glared at each-other for what felt like minutes. Waiting for the other to strike. Until finally, the softest sound emitted from Soundwave’s maroon faceplate. The communications officer then turned around, and made his way away from Starscream and to a terminal; reading out the schematics and tapping in the appropriate inputs in response.

    Starscream glanced wearily at the idle Skywarp and Thundercracker, pointing a trembling digit at Soundwave as he did. ‘Did he just-- he laughed just now, didn’t he? It was quiet, but... He better not have been laughing at me!'

    'He was definitely laughing at you,' Skywarp said.

    Starscream craned his head back to Soundwave. ‘Who the hell do you think you are? Laughing in the face of Aerospace Commander Starscream?!’

    Thundercracker sighed, 'He's speaking in third-person again.'

    Skywarp started counting heads. Confused, as he only counted four of them.

    Recognizing this, Thundercracker saw fit to correct him: 'No, that's not what I meant. Third person means to--' Realizing Skywarp hadn't even been listening, the seeker lowered his face into his palm, groaning loudly.

    Soundwave barely seemed to notice, focusing his full attention on the main monitor. His voice was low and monotonic. ‘The last time I checked, the Aerospace Legion’s progress in the war front has been minimal at best.’

    Thundercracker and Skywarp watched as Starscream’s rage escalated. ‘And you must think you're so much better than me, don't you? Tell me: what do you even do around here? Aside from kiss Megatron's backside whenever you get the chance, I mean. No really, genuinely; I want to know.’

    Soundwave raised his head, ‘I have contributed exponentially to the orchestration of Lord Megatron’s grand plan, in addition to producing the suggestion of applying Shockwave’s prototypes to propitious use. As Head of Communications, I established innumerable links across the galaxy that enabled us to pinpoint the drone's location, as well as outposts deemed significant enough to deem our unbridled attention.' His head lowered, and his focus turned back to his work. 'Also, I am very good at my job.' Thundercracker was almost certain he sensed a smile behind that emotionless tone and unreadable face-plate of his. 'But surely-- none of it must match up to what the Legion has accomplished in its wasteful expenditures and pointless conquest of sub-organic colonies these past eight days, seven months, and thirty years.’

    Thundercracker had to agree with Starscream. Soundwave was a bore, and a hack. His flowery language was as annoying as his holier-than-thou attitude. He wasn't sure what was worse, Starscream's openness about his qualities, or Soundwave's subtle digs at others, expressing his own in a more favorable light.

    ‘That still doesn't explain why Megatron had to drag you along,' Starscream growled, moving away from the comms head as if to move away from a wasp. ‘Shouldn’t you be performing maintenance checks and comm frequencies back at New Kaon right about now?’

    Soundwave shrugged slightly. ‘It is possible that Lord Megatron requires at least one reliable soldier under his command at a time.’

    Skywarp proceeded to make a whooping noise as Starscream growled.

    ‘He does have a point, though.’ Three sets of optics all turned to Thundercracker who clasped his hands together before his lap. ‘I just-- I mean, we have been going a little overboard with the whole pointless killing as of late. I can’t for the life of me remember the last time we actually fought an Autobot. Most of the organic planets we've encountered aren't even energon supportive. We don't have much of a reason for attacking any of them.’

    Before he knew it, Starscream was upon him. Tightening his grip around Thundercracker’s throat and plucking him off of the ground and high above his head. ‘And then Thundercracker regretted everything up to this very moment,' Starscream mused. Thundercracker wheezed heavily as Starscream’s grip overwrote his rational thought. He pried at Starscream’s fingertips only for the Aerospace Commander to sneer and chuck him carelessly into Soundwave bulky exterior, knocking him gently into the console he was working at.

    Starscream proceeded to dust himself off. ‘If there are two thing I hate, it's Soundwave, and when other people try to tell me how to do my job. Like you know any better... I've seen you cower away at the shortest sight of blood, Thundercracker. I know what kind of Decepticon you are.’

    Soundwave began to lift Thundercracker off the floor and onto his feet, only to dropkick him square in the gut and knocking him back onto the floor, prompting Starscream and Skywarp to roar in laughter.

    ‘Check it out!’ Starscream mused to Skywarp. ‘Even the least popular Decepticon of all time agrees with me!’

    As Starscream tilted his head back to laugh, he was met with a large force in the form of Thundercracker tackling him to the floor. It was involuntary, of course, as Soundwave had violently thrown the Seeker into his superior officer from across the room.

    Starscream fell backwards from the sudden weight against his torso, landing hard on his back. He cursed, and shoved the blue seeker off of him before massaging the parts on his head that made contact with the floor.

    ‘You have no right to strike the Aerospace Commander of the Decepticons!’ He snapped.

    ‘And you have no right to damage the Nemesis' interface,' Soundwave replied, casually.

    Starscream leapt to his feet and proceeded to berate Soundwave in a jagged and rage-fueled lecture that was responded with the occasional two to three syllable responses. Skywarp watched. A large silver and blood-red robot stood next to him, either hand placed neatly behind his back.

    ‘So, what have I missed?’ The silver robot asked.

    ‘Not much,’ Skywarp replied, carelessly. ‘Starscream and Soundwave got in a fight again… oh, and Thundercracker got beat up. Again. That's always fun.’

    ‘Oh,’ the silver robot said, ‘I wonder how Megatron will feel about this.’

    Skywarp shrugged. ‘Dunno, you should probably ask him your--‘ he stopped, turning to face the silver robot.

    He was big. At least a head taller than Starscream and Soundwave, with broad, rectangular shoulders that evened out his width as well as his length. It seemed as though everything about the silver bot gave off a strong sense of power. Of course, this was to be expected, for he was the Decepticons' founder and leader, Lord Megatron.

    '--self.' Skywarp squealed upon the sudden appearance of his master. At once, Thundercracker and Soundwave reacted at once and straightened themselves into military stances.

    'Lord Megatron, welcome.' Soundwave greeted.

    Starscream was more casual. ‘It's about time you finally showed up. It's been like - what - six months since you left to grab that snack? Just what the hell were you doing in there?’

    Megatron moved briskly to the edge of the bridge, eyeing the readouts on the main screen and punching inputs into the holo-keys below. ‘Soundwave, status report.’

    ‘From what I have gathered, we should be nearing the location of the Autobot squadron currently in possession of the drone. However, due to Starscream’s incompetence, the scanning console has been involuntarily reset. Tracking the target Autobots will now permeate longer than desired as a result.’

    Megatron tilted his head to the side and raised a powerful arm. As naturally as he would have done so stretching, he swung his fist backwards and struck Starscream across the side of his face. In seconds, Starscream was sent hurdling backwards and crashed into the back wall of the Nemesis' bridge; forming a Starscream-shaped outline in the metal.

    Starscream’s face morphed into a snarl as he fell onto his knees and fisted the ground. ‘Nark,’ he grumbled.

    Soundwave tapped commands into the Nemesis’s tracking system. ‘Ah... That’s irregular.’

    ‘What is it?’

    ‘My apologies, Lord Megatron, but either Starscream has administered more damage to the system than I initially anticipated… or the Nemesis has detected a mere two Autobot life signals within the vicinity of the drone. No greater posterior spark discharges are present either. According to these readings, the drone was overcome by a mere couple of foot-soldiers.’

    There was silence on the bridge as the five Decepticons exchanged skeptical glances. The ARA Unit had decimated entire squadrons through stealth and power. It was frankly unbelievable that it would have been eradicated so easily.

    'Put Slipstream on the line.’

    ‘Yes, Lord Megatron.’

    In moments, the bridge lit up as the holographic representation of a black and green seeker materialized around them. She had the same general body type as Starscream but with a noticeably different transformation, clearly fitted with something closer to a pitch black stealth jet than that of a flashy fighter craft. Her head sculpt was also adorned with thinner appendages, most notably being the long elf-like audio receptors on either side of her head. Standing next to her were a pair of seekers, one crimson and gold, --his wings lowered in an almost cape-like fashion, and the other bulkier with silver and grey colours, a pointed head, and wings located on his legs rather than his back. There was a prideful look plastered across Slipstream’s face.

    ‘Lord Megatron, the Aerospace Legion is patiently awaiting your orders as, uh, ordered. Are we to attack now or--?’

    ‘Slipstream, take the Legion and return to Kaon for further instruction, this does not require your assistance.’

    Soundwave and Starscream exchanged confused glances in response to Megatron's order.

    Slipstream frowned out of what seemed to be a mixture of shock and disappointment. ‘Oh. You're serious. If… those are your orders. Alrighty then, we’ll pull out and uh… call us when you need us I suppose.’

    'We won't.'

    She turned to the two Seekers standing behind her. ‘Sunstorm, set co-ordinates to New Kaon. Ramjet, cut the feed.’

    In seconds, the hologram dissipated leaving four very stunned Decepticons facing Megatron.

    Starscream raised his hand ‘Question,' he hesitated as he tried to form the proper words. 'Did you seriously just send off our entire backup before even seeing what we are up against? We could be dealing with a pair of Autobot Phase Sixers-- or an Omega Sentinel, or even Ultra Magnus for all we know! We could be slaughtered, all because the great Lord Megatron was too cool to ask for help!'

    'With all due respect, Starscream makes a valid point for once' Soundwave admitted, reluctantly.

    ‘We don’t need them,’ Megatron stated flatly. ‘We can deal with this situation ourselves.’

    Thundercracker folded his arms. ‘Then why don’t we just strafe them with the Nemesis? Wipe them out like the nonentities they are and save us all the trouble.’

    ‘We cannot waste our firepower on a mere two Autobots.’ The Warlord explained. ‘We’re low enough on Energon as is, and with our former weapons manufacturer... missing, we cannot afford to waste a single shell from the Nemesis’s cannons. Each shot counts, and I do not intend to count it against a couple of, as you say, "nonentities".’

    Starscream grinned. That was his cue. 'Then clearly a house call is in order.' Starscream bowed, signalling Thundercracker and Skywarp to follow suit. ‘Allow me be the one to exterminate them, Lord Megatron. Let us - once again - prove our significance to you.’ He eye Soundwave as he said this, grinning smugly.

    Megatron stopped and stared at the bowing Decepticon, pausing as if to reconsider his trust in Starscream’s skills, and nodded. ‘Sure.’

    He smirked. ‘Thank you, Megatron. In your straightforward consent, you have just guaranteed our victory!’
     
  8. Ømnidrive

    Ømnidrive Stop.....think......fart.....and keep on going

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    :popcorn  KEEP IT COMING!!!
     
  9. Coffee

    Coffee (╭☞ꗞᨓꗞ)╭☞

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    Optimus made his way back into the mustard coloured cell block where Ironhide and Blackarachnia waited. Between the former's servos was a coated repair-ray crusted with oil and viscera. The two robots stared at Optimus, waiting for a clue as to what was to happen next.

    Blackarachnia smirked. ‘Empty handed, eh? That's a shame. Best kill yourselves, I reckon, and get it over with,’ Blackarachnia slumped against the wall at the back of her cell. 'You’ve got no leverage against these guys. You know that, right?' She bolted up onto her feet. 'On second thought, why get all gloomy about it? Why brood? We can make this one big suicide party! Quick-- grab the punch!’

    Ironhide's grip tightened as his energon boiled. ‘If you don't shut up right this instant, I'm going to... I'm going to...‘ He stopped himself mid-sentence-- realizing that losing his cool was precisely what she wanted. It would mean that she'd win. He turned to Optimus, pushing the thought of the captured Decepticon out of his mind. ‘Did you find anything?’

    He shook his head. ‘I'm afraid not. The thing's practically vacant save for an Autopilot remote and the ship's documents. Sky-Line named it the Prodigy of all things.’

    ‘The Prodigy? That’s…’

    ‘Yeah…’ He reached into his belt and pulled out a small, brown-ish rectangular box. ‘It takes just one click for the Prodigy to fly from one space sector to the next.’ He clicked down on a random button to accentuate his point, with though no visible change appeared to have occurred.

    'Sounds a little too good to be true.'

    ‘Unfortunately it is. Looking at the damages I can't imagine it taking us anywhere with the state it's in--.‘

    A low rumbling shook the asteroid beneath their feet. Optimus froze. It couldn't be. He bolted out of the room. Moments after Prime had pressed the remote, Sky-Line’s ship had begun it’s take off sequence, large thrusters torching the solid rock as the ship levitated, aimed and shot itself upward. By the time Optimus had sprinted outside, Sky-Line’s ship was already a tiny white speck in the distance.

    ‘Well… ship.’

    He turned around to face Ironhide whose only response was a blank stare. Behind him was Blackarachnia who was stumbling out of the Ark holding her gut and laughing. It was only then did Optimus notice she had been walking on an ugly limp. Despite her seemingly unstoppable presence, her entire frame had taken a great deal of damage from the battle prior.

    Ironhide trained his cannons as soon as he caught sight of her. ‘Get back in the cell if you know what's good for you!’ He edged towards Optimus. ‘Why haven't we killed her yet, Prime? She's a murderer, and this is war. Just give me the word and I'll put a clip through her eyes.’ He tilted his head to the side. 'One set of them, at least.'

    Optimus stared at her for a moment and reached into his belt. ‘Because she’s wrong, we do have some leverage.’ He clicked a pair of stasis cuffs around the now silent Decepticon’s wrists. ‘We have a hostage.’

    -----

    The three bots walked across the surface of the asteroid and as far away from the Ark as they could, each one as quiet as the next. Optimus took the lead as Ironhide dragged Blackarachnia along by a long metal wire connected to her wrists.

    'How's the leg?' Ironhide asked, gesturing to his slight limp.

    'There's still a sliver or two locked between some gears, but it's nothing to blow a gasket over. I'll manage.'

    Ironhide nodded and looked ahead, but Optimus didn't want to end the conversation just yet. He hoped some last minute talk would help ease the tension.

    ‘I never got to ask: what has the life of Ironhide been like these past thirty-some years?’

    Ironhide cocked his head in thought. ‘It's been a life of freelance work, mostly. Moving from outpost to outpost, dishing out support, attempting to make ties with the old gang, punching punks, etc.’

    ‘Did you meet up with any of them? The old gang, I mean.’

    ‘Not really. All I had to go on were faint whispers and gossip. I ran into Prowl, but it's not hard to run into him. Rodimus too, though he’s a little difficult to ignore when he’s being, you know, Rodimus.’

    Optimus nodded. ‘Makes sense.’

    ‘What about you?’

    He sighed. ‘Living. Mostly.’

    A thundering roar erupted from above as all three robots ducked.

    ‘Thank God.’ Blackarachnia said, facing the sky with a grin. ‘Buck up old-boys, because it looks to me like we’re finally getting to the good part of this little excursion.’

    From the sky came a trio of space crafts, each one separating and shifting into three slick and powerful looking Cybertronians. Their thrusters activated, slowing them to an easier descent before landing upon a large rock surface that stuck out of the asteroid like a disfigured appendage. Their weight sent slivers of rock crumbling from the surface and sent spiraling away due to the lack of natural gravity. Optimus found no trouble in determining the identity of the Decepticon in the center. Aerospace Commander Starscream, one of the highest ranking, and deadliest commanders in the Decepticon armada. The fact that Megatron had entrusted him as commander of their entire aerospace fleet determined his worth to the title alone. He had only heard legends of the Seeker.

    ‘Slag, that’s Starscream, isn’t it.’ Ironhide said, leaning towards Optimus. ‘What do we do? I was expecting some heavy resistance, but I can't say I was expecting them to send their deadliest flier to annihilate us.’ He waved his hand. 'Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Just surprised is all.'

    ‘You almost sound honored.’ Blackarachnia mused.

    Ironhide expunged steam from his oral cavity, growling monotonously to express his annoyance.

    ‘He’s still a Cybertronian, y'know.' Blackarachnia went on, watching the sleek jet coming into full view. 'A tough one albeit, but he’s no Primus incarnate. No need to fawn over the thought of getting killed by him like another one of his masochistic fan girls.’

    Ironhide scowled ‘Bah! I’d rather die than let myself get killed by—!’ He stopped, and squinted at the Decepticon. ‘“Fan girls?” Him?’

    Optimus scanned the open field ahead. ‘Ironhide, see that lump of rock to my left?’

    He nodded. ‘Strategic cover?’

    ‘The minute a shot is fired, run for it, it’s our best chances of getting through this scrap alive.’

    Standing at the highest point of the rock face, Starscream almost felt disappointed by the Autobots lack of aversion to their assault. As well as their lack of... appearances. They were clearly nothing to make a fuss over. Regardless, the Aerospace Commander felt a sense of pride in being the one to knock off another powerful Autobot for Megatron. Any reason to show off his skills in combat was enough to please him. He could picture Megatron's jealousy already. He could picture the relic grumbling to himself with his thumb between his teeth, damning the seeker for making him look inferior in comparison. The thought filled him with guilty joy. Ah well, back to the task at hand. He waved a sleek, dismissive servo towards Skywarp and Thundercracker. ‘Step aside, both of you. I don't want either of you stealing my spotlight like you did last time. These ones are mine.’

    The two seekers nodded and kicked off the edge of the cliff, gliding gracefully before quaking against the ground from the force of their heavy metal bodies. They turned, and jogged to the side-lines as to make way for that their commander to finish the job.

    Skywarp tilted his head back and laughed. ‘"Last time"-- we were fighting Nebulans, it was hard not to step on them. They were all so small and squishy! I couldn't take one step without splattering something beneath my feeties.’

    Thundercracker sighed. ‘Whatever. Let's move before he punishes us again.’

    Skywarp grinned at his flying partner knowingly. 'Before he punishes you, you mean.'

    'Shut up.'

    With Thundercracker and Skywarp out of sight, Optimus grabbed Blackarachnia from Ironhide and raised the blade of his axe up to her throat.

    Blackarachnia rolled her four optics in sync. ‘Of course.’

    ‘Starscream!’ Optimus raised his voice and immediately regretted ever proposing such a plan. He realized a little too late that this was probably not going to work. ‘Let us go peacefully and the Decepticon lives!’

    Starscream considered making a speech to strike a degree of awe in the Autobots beforehand, but instead decided to finish the job without the pleasantries. He raised his upper lip and flicked a servo at them. ‘You're keeping a mass-produced drone hostage? How stupid do you think I am?’

    Blackarachnia frowned. 'Wait, why isn't that a problem? I still have a conscious, you know.'

    ‘I thought it was worth a shot,’ Optimus said, scratching the back of his head with the axe handle.

    The corner of Starscream’s mouth arched as he stretched his arm outwards. ‘That's cute.’ Panel’s shifted, overlapped and rotated as his arm transformed into a multi barreled cannon equipped with six green and grey coloured missiles.

    ‘Wait, Starscream.’ Thundercracker called from below. There was a sliver of hesitance in his usually collected tone of voice. ‘Don't you think we're maybe overstepping our bounds here? That drone is a valued asset-- at best a fellow Decepticon. Wouldn't it be considered a waste to reduce it to scrap like this? What would Megatron say?’

    ‘At least someone recognizes my usefulness around here,’ Blackarachnia muttered to herself.

    Starscream scowled at the blue Decepticon. ‘What. You don't trust me to make the right decision? Is that it, Thundercracker? Do you truly have no confidence in your commanding officer's judgement?’

    ‘Well… no. No I don't, actually.’

    Optics burning a bright orange, the Aerospace Commander cocked his weapon, aiming it directly at Optimus. A mental command away from pulling the trigger, he hesitated. A stray thought entered his mind. That thought being Megatron. What if he were to disobey? No doubt a punishment would soon follow, and while he would never admit it to anyone, Starscream was deathly afraid of his Lord and Master. Not of being killed by him, no, he did not fear death from Megatron. But he always feared the pain. Teeth clenched, the Seeker brought a digit to his helm.

    ‘Starscream to the Nemesis. Requesting permission to speak with Megatron.’

    -----

    ‘As odd as it is for either of us to hear me say this: please have faith in me, sir,’ Soundwave said to the Decepticon Leader. ‘It will be a secure process, I can assure you of that.’

    Megatron massaged his chin. ‘I see.’

    Just as he prepared to delve into a deeper explanation, Soundwave perked his head. ‘Incoming call from Starscream.’

    ‘Answer.’

    Soundwave paused to listen, nodded and turned to his leader. ‘The Autobots have kept the drone hostage. Starscream is seeking permission to open fire regardless of its safety. Your orders?’

    Megatron raised a brow at the communications officer, as if waiting for the punchline of a joke. ‘Is that all? Tell him that permission is granted. It’s just a drone, we can always salvage another from the wreckage.’ Megatron let out a nigh inaudible sigh. ‘Sacrifice is a constant. There's no defying it.’

    ‘Eloquently put, my lord.' Soundwave nodded, and reconnected with Starscream. ‘Megatron has given the word, kill them all.’

    ----

    Starscream grinned. ‘As you wish.’

    Blackarachnia’s disposition evaporated in an instant, her grin dissipating and her posture slouching into a state of disbelief. ‘Waaaait, you aren't actually--?!‘

    ‘Scatter!’ Optimus roared as he and Blackarachnia dove to the right. Missiles whizzed by as clusters of rock and debris burst from underneath them. Small brittles of asteroid ricocheted off of Ironhide’s helm as the black Autobot somersaulted behind cover and ducked his head. Realizing he was the only one behind the rock, Ironhide scanned the area of broken ground to find Optimus still standing in the open, Blackarachnia crouching next to him.

    The Decepticon slammed her fist against the ground. ‘Starscream you idiot! You almost hit me!’

    ‘Prime!’ Ironhide called out, spreading his arms in disbelief. ‘The cover strategy! What the hell happened to the cover strategy?!’

    ‘Yes, yes, I hear you. I panicked. Just wait right there!’

    ‘Megatron has deemed you redundant,’ Starscream mocked from his perch. ‘Therefore, I don’t have any good reason not to kill you. And since you happen to be in the way... heh, bye!’

    Blackarachnia propped herself up, realizing only now that her stasis cuffs had been unlocked by the force of the explosion. ‘Damn it! Damn you Starscream! Do you even know what I am? I swear by the end of the day I’m going to tear a hole in your--‘

    ‘And I would absolutely love to see you try,' Starscream retorted, shaking his head. ‘There are over a hundred Decepticons under my command that would be happy to die by my hand. That would even call it an honour to sacrifice themselves for the glory of the Decepticon empire. And to die by none other than me of all people? Their devotion puts "Decepticons" like you to shame.’ He brought the palm of his hand to his chest. ‘After all... I am Starscream! Starscream the conqueror! The blade of unity and light that will eventually bring the anarchy of our race to a close!’

    Blackarachnia lowered her head, ‘I can’t believe-- I can’t believe Megatron would...‘

    Optimus Prime stepped forward and brandished his axe in the Seeker's direction. ‘You’re insane, Starscream. You already know you’ve lost! Leave peacefully or surrender.’

    Starscream blinked. ‘Literally, how dumb do you think I am? I'm obviously going to win. Why would you even propose such a thing?’

    ‘You will never win, Starscream. Not when you're up against forces of...’ he thought it over in his mind, 'of justice!

    ‘Now that's just ridiculous-- I mean-- okay, first of all, justice is completely subjective! Like, I could beat justice in an arm wrestling contest, I don't even care!’

    The two voices taunted back and forth for as long as it took for Ironhide to feel like vomiting.

    ‘Why do commanders always have to act like such... whatever this is?’

    ‘I know the feeling,’ Thundercracker said. 'I have to listen to this garbage on a daily basis.’

    ‘I hear ya.’

    Deadpanned, Ironhide turned around to find Thundercracker sitting perched on a large boulder behind him. The seeker blinked and stood up. ‘Oh, sorry I’ll just-’ He pointed to the left, staring at Ironhide, ‘-yeah… sorry.’ Transforming, Thundercracker jetted off to a farther part of the asteroid, determined to stay on Starscream’s good side.

    ‘I’ve got a delivery for you, Starscream!’ Optimus said. ‘And the return address will be my fist!’

    ‘And I have a delivery for you, Autobot!’ Starscream stopped, realizing that he hadn’t initially thought of a good comeback before speaking, Starscream simply raised his cannon and fired another cluster of missiles at Optimus.

    Dodging in time, Optimus somersaulted past the missile fire and next to Ironhide as clouds of debris kicked up from below. ‘See? I remembered which way to dodge this time. I'm improving.’

    From his perch, Starscream folded his weapon away, replacing it with a smaller but sleeker looking gatling-gun shaped weapon: the null-ray. ‘Come on, Autobots!’ he fired a rapid fired dose of laser fire at the ground in front of them, unsure of where they had hidden from the clouds of space-dust blocking his vision. ‘How cute you are... Quit scuttling around in the dirt like the little insects you are and meet your fate like a Cybertronian.’ He fired again.

    ‘He just called us insects.’ Optimus said, peering over his cover. ‘And cute... who does that?’

    ‘Don’t tell me your feelings are hurt,’ Blackarachnia said

    ‘A little?’

    Ironhide snorted. ‘Shrug it off, Prime. We can't let some petty insults throw us off our game.’

    Optimus waved a dismissive hand. 'I'm just kidding.'

    'When we're being shot at?'

    'It's a coping mechanism, quit judging me.'

    Starscream bellowed at them: 'You're like those bugs that roll up feces into those perfect circles. I can't remember what they're called, but those are what you are!'

    'Then again...' Ironhide peered over the mound and snorted. 'He is beginning to tick me off...'

    ‘You’re a Prime, aren’t you?’ Blackarachnia spouted. ‘You command dozens of bots at a time-- surely you have some kind of plan.’

    ‘Funny thing actually, I never really...‘

    ‘You what?!’

    Optimus shut his optics, ‘I... never led in my entire life. Not properly at least. I used to rely entirely on my lieutenant back at my old post, and with them gone I am afraid I'm all out of tricks.’

    Blackarachnia dipped her head. ‘We’re dead.’

    ‘Who’s this we?’ Ironhide replied bitterly, not ready to be grouped with the Decepticon just yet.

    Starscream continued his assault, joyfully firing sets of missiles and laser-fire in random directions. ‘Plebeians, worms, proles... What's it like to be the scum of the universe? I gotta ask.’

    ‘Wow, he’s really baiting us now,' Optimus said.

    ‘That’s it.’ Ironhide perked his head above the boulder and shouted at the Seeker. ‘At least I don’t have chicken legs!’

    The colour in Starscream’s face drained away. ‘… What did you just say?’

    Ironhide blinked. ‘That your. Legs are. Chicken-y…’

    Starscream stared. He twitched, his teeth gritted, his shoulders began to shake. Then, true to his name, he screamed. ‘YOU’RE DEEEEAAAAAAD!’

    Leaping into the air, Starscream shifted and transformed into his sleek red, white and black jet mode, powered by a pair of large thrusters on the rear; set ablaze with powerful neon light.

    ‘Crap.’ Optimus cursed as he shook Ironhide by the shoulders. ‘Move. MOVE!’

    Starscream shot forward, a plethora of weaponry unfolded and powered up from his underside as he circled the area with intense speed, catching sight of the driving Optimus and Ironhide. Starscream would not hold back, with Blackarachnia out of sight he barrel rolled and targeted the two Autobots, unleashing a barrage of missile and laser fire that tore apart chunks of the massive asteroid beneath them.
     
  10. Coffee

    Coffee (╭☞ꗞᨓꗞ)╭☞

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    Kicking the ground, Optimus somersaulted forward and transformed. Activating his rear thrusters and boosting forward along the bumpy terrain. Ironhide rolled not far behind, his cannon’s firing aimlessly towards the sky. Rock exploded around them as both Autobots swerved, Starscream on the other hand reloaded his supplies, and circled around for another strafe-run. ‘IT’S A COMMON BIRTH DEFECT!’ the Decepticon screamed.

    ‘We can't run forever,’ Optimus shouted over the sound of missile-fire, tires spinning. ‘On my mark, Transform and return fire.’

    ‘And you?’

    ‘I’ll think of something.’

    Optimus buckled to the side, slamming his brakes as Starscream unloaded another barrage. ‘Now!’

    Both robots transformed and held their ground, and to their shock, finding Starscream jetting at them nose-first like a kamikaze pilot.

    ‘Incoming!’

    The Aerospace Commander transformed, planting his legs on the ground, tearing it apart as he shredded to a halt. He stopped directly in front of Optimus where he swung a large servo and grabbed him by the throat. He hoisted the struggling robot above his head, clenching down until the gears in his arms began to whir.

    ‘Autobot. When will you ever learn your place in the universe?’ He grinned. 'On second though, don't answer that. Seeing as I’m about to kill you in about three seconds, I’d say--’

    ‘Never!’

    Ironhide fired a cannon blast into Starscream’s back, causing him to drop Optimus and return a round of machine gun fire back at the bulky robot. Ironhide somersaulted to the side, taking cover and firing rounds back at Starscream who dodged them accordingly.

    ‘I nearly forgot there were two of you, you all seem to look alike–AGH!’

    The Seeker looked down to find an orange Energon Axe sticking out of his side, pink and black substance leaked from the gash as metal peeled itself back, shying away from the weapon’s orange glow. Optimus pulled it out and prepared another strike only for Starscream to explode into a wild transformation back into his jet mode, panels sprang outward smacking Optimus in the chest as the newly formed air vehicle roared, jetting back into the sky where it circled them once again, firing it's heavy barrage of missiles and laser-fire, tearing the fragile rock apart beneath their feet.

    Ironhide doubled back, firing a round into the sky before hiding under cover once again. ‘Damn! We can’t hit him while he’s in the air. He’s too fast for even my reflexes!’

    ‘In that case...’ Optimus stepped into the open, swinging his axe back and forth. ‘…Let’s give him what he wants.’ Starscream barrelled backwards, transforming in the air this time before descending upon the two Autobots, and landing on top of Ironhide, the bottom of his foot shoving the weapon specialist's face into the ground.

    ‘There is no hiding from me!’ Starscream announced, digging his heel deeper Ironhide's back as he prepared his null ray. Before he could act, Optimus ran at him, swinging his axe wildly at the Decepticon. Starscream lept off of Ironhide to dodge before knocking Optimus’s hand away, preparing a karate-chop of sorts only to find himself grappling with Optimus. His Axe drawing closer to his face.

    ‘I may not have received the highest scores in the academy…’ Optimus put pressure on his axe hand as Starscream held on to its handle, his other locked with Prime’s servo in a violent struggle. Starscream could feel the blue and red Autobot gaining the upper hand, slowly over-powering the Aerospace Commander with a tremendous amount of strength. Starscream was baffled by the sudden burst of power as Optimus grinned underneath his faceplate. ‘But I’m still a Prime!’ Spinning around, Prime delivered a roundhouse kick to Starscream’s crotch, sending him jutting backwards as specks of oil sprayed from his mouth. From cover, Ironhide fired a condensed shot from either cannon at Starscream creating a plethora of indents, warps and burn markings in the Decepticon’s upper torso and right shoulder.

    Starscream let out a violent scream, firing his null rays wildly and taking to the skies once more, sending the two Autobots scrambling under a rainfall of lasers and bombs distributed from his jet-form.

    -----

    Megatron’s optics narrowed as he observed the fight from the safety of the Nemesis, parked neatly and nearly a solar system away from the action.

    ‘Lord Megatron,’ Soundwave reported. ‘If I may be so bold, are you... well?‘

    He made a dismissive gesture. ‘I'm fine, Soundwave. I only-- ah, I might be getting a little...’ The Warlord made a grotesque expression before finishing his sentence. '... bored.'

    ‘Will you be assisting Starscream, then?’

    ‘No. I allowed Starscream to partake in this fight for a reason. It is vital for his development into what I intend for him to become. But if he is to fail...’ He stared at his left servo.

    Soundwave nodded. ‘Shall I prepare your fusion cannon? Your swords perhaps?’

    ‘Again, no. Starscream’s wasting enough ammunition as is - I should have anticipated that - and besides, it will be no trouble for me to deal with this in a more…’ his servo clenched into a fist, ‘…energy-efficient manner. ‘

    -----

    Dodging another missile, Optimus finally found himself with a plan, one that took him a moment to properly believe would work. ‘I’ve got it!’ he snapped his fingers, whirling his head in Ironhide’s direction, ‘Ironhide, I think I’ve figured him out!’

    Ironhide snorted, firing a weak bolt from his cannons at the soaring Seeker. ‘Do I even want to know what that means?’

    ‘It means there’s a pattern. You see, Starscream, I know his secret. It's that he's an idiot, a massive idiot!

    Ironhide didn’t seem impressed. ‘Well I could have told you that… But what does that have to do with... anything?’

    Optimus Prime tapped knowingly at his helm. ‘Starscream loves to kill. Or, specifically, to assert his dominance. It’s obvious by the way he’s been taunting and attacking us. But it’s not just dominance he wants! Not only does he want to kill us, but he wants to look good while doing it. He could be flying around and shooting at us all day until we run out of strength, but where’s the fun in that? Where's the glory?’

    Ironhide shot an awry glance in Prime's direction. ‘That sounds downright disturbing coming from you.’

    ‘Point is, any second now he’s going to try coming down to our level once again, and on our level, well, that’s where we have the advantage.’

    Ironhide found himself struggling to believe it, ‘I’m not so sure. The guys far from sane, I'm aware of that, but we’ve managed to force his retreat twice already. Do you really expect him to fall for--‘

    Out of nowhere, Starscream crashed down before them, his slick grin creasing the edges of his faceplate and his digits waggling as If he were surveying his meal.

    ‘Huh.’ Ironhide nodded to Optimus and opened fire, only for Starscream to sidestep out of the blast and thrust his dominant arm forward, delivery a hefty punch into Ironhide’s torso and sending him hurdling back into the asteroid's warped rock. Starscream flexed his arm, morphing it from his standard mode into a large, circular, razor-covered buzz-saw. Advancing as Ironhide attempted to lift himself up and out of the rubble.

    ‘It appears that your friend has abandoned you. That's a pity, friends are never a good thing to keep. They have a tendency to betray you when you least expect it.’ His buzz saw whirred eerily. ‘At least he will be spared the sight of your innards flying out of your chest, and I know how snippy you Autobots get about the realities of war. Now then… where is that friend of yours?’

    From behind him came Optimus in his vehicle mode-- driving full speed towards the Seeker's back. Optimus transformed and leaped onto Starscream’s back.

    ‘Here I am!’

    While the Seeker was only about half a head taller than Optimus, grappling him was far from easy. Starscream squirmed and swung his spinning saw-- blade out in front of him, only inches away cutting Prime's hands off. ‘Urgh… get your filthy hands off of me!’

    ‘The only thing filthy, Starscream…’ Optimus swung his axe into the Seeker’s back, cutting between his wing and his spine. ‘Is your face!’

    Starscream screeched, his thrusters activating and deactivating at random intervals as he struggled. Ironhide blew on his overheated cannons from behind cover. ‘Good one!’ he called out.

    Starscream tried to shake off the Autobot, but soon came up with a better plan. ‘Say, have you ever dreamed of flying?’

    Optimus frowned as he readied another strike. ‘Have I what?’

    But it was too late, Starscream had already transformed, with Optimus still attached. Thrusting upwards, Optimus found himself clinging to Starscream’s wings for dear life as he and the Decepticon sped through the dizzying asteroid field. Starscream lurched to the left, nearly flinging the Prime into deep space. The only thing that seemed close to giving in, however, was Optimus’s fuel-pump.

    ‘How does it feel? I hear you Autobots have very few fliers, so it's probably not often you get experience something as gratifying as this. I almost feel sorry for you.’

    Optimus groaned. ‘Shut up! Why are you even still talking?!’

    ‘Oh believe you me, the only reason I am talking to you at all right now is because I know you hate it. Now then, what trick should I play next in order to get you off of me? Any suggestions?’

    Optimus took a risk and raised his axe. ‘Do a barrel roll!’ he yelled, slamming it down against the previously formed wound on his wing. With one wide swing, Optimus had managed to cut at least half of the Seeker’s right wing off completely. Screeching, Starscream buckled backwards, flying through an orbiting field of smaller asteroids before crashing back into the one where Ironhide stood, but not before being used as a launch pad for Optimus to direct his descent towards the hunk of rock below him. And by that, he crashed directly into Ironhide.

    Rolling backwards, the black and red Autobot massaged his back, shoving the heftier Prime off of him. ‘Ugh, I beg your pardon, Prime…’

    Optimus raised a servo as he lifted himself to his feet. ‘Sorry…’ he turned to face the wide crater, formed by Starscream's flaming jet-mode.

    ‘You think he’s dead?’ Ironhide asked.

    As if on cue, Starscream rose from the smoke and rubble, with one wing broken and the other bent, his only source of flight were the pair of thrusters on his back. He snarled, ‘I’m going to kill you!’

    Starscream lurched forward, transforming into a wingless jet, only to crash headfirst back into the rock. ‘My wings!’ Starscream clumsily transformed back into robot mode, fisting the ground as he did. ‘My state-of-the-art, pageant-winning wings… How- how DARE you! You worms!’

    Ironhide placed a hand on his hip as he surveyed the smoldered seeker. ‘That’s an insult you don’t hear every day! You know you could always just call us assholes like a normal person.’

    Starscream stood up. ‘Look, I am not sure what else you want, or expect me to say to you, but if you are as eager to get this as over and done with as I am, then…’ he spread his arms to either side of him beckoning them forth, ‘COME ON!'

    Transforming, Optimus sped forward as Ironhide provided cover fire. In response, Starscream morphed his arm into his missile launcher and opened fire, forcing Prime to swerve. His thrusters ablaze, Optimus drove forward, ramming himself into Starscream’s mid-section and sending him staggering further backwards. Starscream elbowed Optimus’s hood only for him to transform and clutch either one of Starscream’s wrists, pushing him back and roaring as he did so. In one motion, Optimus pulled backwards, twisting and tearing Starscream’s rocket arm out from its socket. While the Seeker was stunned, Optimus spawned his axe once again, chopping at Starscream’s other wrist and disabling him indefinitely.

    With no weapons, no ability to fly, and no available method of countering the Autobots oncoming attack, the Seeker fell backwards, cowering away onto his knees. ‘Please! We can-- we can strike a deal, yeah? I’m absolutely powerless here, no guns, no flight, I couldn’t lay a scratch on you if I wanted, I couldn’t lay a scratch on you if you wanted! If you would be so kind could you give me a hand or-or spare my life at the very least? That would be-- that would be just awesome.’

    Optimus turned to Ironhide who firmly shook his head. Uncomfortably but without a hint of naivety, Optimus motioned Ironhide to do whatever he wanted, whatever that might have been. Charging his cannons, Ironhide approached the seeker heartily but with a noticeably lesser sense of charisma as he had during the battle.

    ‘Please…’ Starscream outstretched his wounded servo. ‘You can’t actually- you can’t actually be this…’

    His optics narrowed and his momentarily aghast expression morphed into a widened grin. ‘…Stupid.’

    The thrusters on Starscream’s back flipped up and aimed forward, rotating inwards on themselves.

    Optimus leaped forward, realizing what was going on. ‘IRONHIDE!’

    Two bright cylinders of neon blue light fired from Starscream’s shoulder cannons, creating a wide hole in Ironhide’s torso and another in his shoulder. Electricity surged inside the two gaping wounds and not much else. Ironhide staggered back, panicking and grabbing desperately at dead air as his optics widened. It was as if the optical light had been leaking from his retinal. The large, black Autobot fell on his back, his optics a gunmetal grey.

    Starscream smirked as his shoulder cannons smoked. ‘Did you really think I was actually that pathetic? That Aerospace Commander Starscream would fall to a pair of nobodies? And you called me an idiot.’

    Optimus dashed forward, brandishing his axe. ‘DAMN YOU!’

    The Air Commander casually picked up his discarded Null Ray with his remaining servo, but instead of using it traditionally, he held it as a club, picking the correct moment and swinging it, crashing into Optimus Prime’s faceplate. Optimus’s head cracked backwards as chunks of metal from his faceplate came dashing off, replacing the broken area with warps and fractures that morphed the facial skeleton underneath. Optimus was sent a good thirty feet backwards, landing hard on the ground and filling him to the brim with excruciating pain.

    ‘Is this disappointment I feel?’ Starscream’s chest-plate separated and opened up, revealing a cluster of heat-seeking missiles. Opening fire, thirty bright purple lights escaped his torso, soaring upwards before crashing back down at Prime’s feet. ‘Or pity…’ The missiles exploded into multiple purple fireballs that tossed the red and blue Autobot backwards, the back of his head hitting a rock face and forcibly snapping it back in place. Broken, Optimus rose to his feet.

    ‘You’re a hard one,’ Starscream admitted as he reactivated his saw-blade, ‘and I will commend you for proving to be a tougher customer than you let on, but unfortunately, this is also why I’ll be savoring your death a little while longer.’

    Optimus huffed, clenching his fists and wiping some spilled Energon from his faceplate. ‘Bring it!’

    Starscream raised the buzz-saw, completely prepared and willing to finish it. He hesitated. He never hesitated. What he could have sworn was a trick of the light, on further inspection revealed itself to be much more. Among the broken pieces of his faceplate were splotches of bright purple Energon. But Starscream knew what spilled blood looked like, he probably knew it better than most other Decepticons, but this… among the purple liquid in the fracture of Optimus’s faceplate, was a shade of purple different from the rest. ‘But that…’ Starscream pointed a digit towards Prime’s face. ‘Why do you have a--‘

    Before he could finish, a pair of long, sharp, spear-like tendrils tore through Starscream’s back and out his chest. Starscream tried to gasp, but even that was difficult to manage. From either tendril came a burst of green electricity that surged through him, causing him to cough up black and green fluids. He struggled, but it was to know avail, the pain was excruciating. With all feeling in his body gone, Starscream staggered, and collapsed.

    Behind him, Blackarachnia transformed, it looked painful and jarring. Especially so from the added difficulty that came with mass-displacement, but she had still managed to convert back into her humanoid form, panting.

    ‘Oh Primus… oh God, that was a bad idea, that was a very bad idea… way too much energy.. serves him right though.’ She spat at Starscream’s unconscious body. 'That's what you get for trying to kill me. Nobody stands in my way and lives. No one.' She turned to Optimus, who appeared to have been gluing his faceplate back together with his own leaked Energon.

    ‘I don’t suppose you’re up for a fight are you?’ Blackarachnia panted, her legs trembling, ‘Because I’m not.’

    Optimus had been jumping in place as a means to regain the feeling in his legs. ‘I don’t know, I managed to dislocate and re-locate every visceral muscle in my system. So as much as I may regret saying this,’ he readied his fists, ‘I could very well go a few more rounds.’

    Blackarachnia sighed. ‘Well, I’d run away but transforming takes a lot out of my system and I- I’m a little….’ She collapsed, falling face first into the ground.

    Optimus shrugged. ‘Thanks anyway,’ He turned his attention to his old friend's body. ‘Ironhide…’

    Before he could think anything of it, a hint of movement caught him off guard. Starscream.

    The Aerial Commander pushed against the ground, his head hung-low, ‘…Thunnnercrackurgh!’ he screeched, his voice slurred and raspy ‘Sgguywarrrp!’

    On cue, the two seekers appeared in a burst of purple light, transforming and landing adjacent to Starscream. The ground quaked beneath their weights.

    ‘He’s on his own!’ Starscream swallowed and exhaled before shouting again. ‘KILL HIM!’

    It was Thundercracker who made the first move, the turbines in his chest rotating and surging with blue light. A burst of loud, electrical sound thundered from his body, homing in on Optimus and sending him flying backwards.. He was smaller than Starscream, but still about half a head taller than Optimus, and all the more combat-prepared. ‘Like we’ll ever get the credit for it.’

    Skywarp activated his chain gun from behind. ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. But look on the bright side, Thunders; we actually get to have ourselves some fun for once!’

    Skywarp slammed the butt of his gun against the side of Prime's head, knocking him into Thundercracker's path. The blue seeker followed up with a quick kick to the gut and a punch in the chest, pinning the Prime onto a large boulder.

    Before Thundercracker could get a response, a loud gunshot sounded behind him. It came from Ironhide. He was sitting up with his cannon pointed forward, a stream of smoke trailing from the barrel. He traced the direction in which the shot fired to see Skywarp, his face ripped off from his skull, and a flaming hole where the top of his head should have been. Thundercracker screamed out, dropping his sword and rushing to catch his fellow seeker.

    ‘No!’ He shouted, kneeling as he caught him. Thundercracker shook his body only to receive the faintest of responses in Skywarp’s servos. ‘He’s… his spark is intact, and I think his brain module is as well, he-- but he won’t last long!’

    He lifted Skywarp, half carrying, half dragging him away from the scene.

    ‘Where do you think you’re going?!’ Starscream snapped.

    ‘Back to the Nemesis. Skywarp isn’t going to last much longer unless he receives medical attention, stat.’

    Starscream’s voice rose to a higher pitch. ‘Who cares?! Kill them already! This is more important than the life of some random, expendable!’

    Thundercracker pulled Skywarp past another rock-face. ‘I care.’

    With the Seekers gone and Starscream silent, it was Blackarachnia’s turn to move. She lifted herself to her feet, only to fall back onto one knee. Optimus was checking on Ironhide.

    ‘Could you quit dying for one second?’

    Ironhide shrugged, kneeling and panting heavily. ‘I gotta be good for something, don't I?’ He turned his attention to Blackarachnia who was almost, if not just as out of shape as he was. ‘So, what do we do about her?’

    ‘Whatever you want,’ the spider said, voice hoarse. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, I just sealed my fate when I attacked that top-ranked Decepticon back there. The Decepticons don't take treason very kindly, especially when it's someone like Starscream.So yeah, I'm technically in even worse shape than you two. Laugh it up.'

    Ironhide tried to move but was overwhelmed by the pain. ‘I say we kill her now before she kills again. Kill and be killed.’

    Optimus hesitated. ‘No, not yet. Not now. I’ll decide what to do with her, just--‘

    He was interrupted by a roar emanating from Starscream. ‘It hurts….’ The Seeker crawled forward with his thin bony limbs. ‘It hurts so- so much pain…’ He raised his cracked head, his teeth grinding together, and his optics widening even further. ‘This can’t happen… it can’t! This can’t-- how can this- how can this happen?!’ He looked Optimus directly in the optic, reaching what’s left of his arm forward, ‘I can never be killed by little Autobots like you!’ His optics darted to Blackarachnia. ‘And you- you pathetic lab experiment…’ His expression changed from a look of pure anger to that of terror and exasperation. ‘Don’t you- don’t look at me! How dare you look at me! Don’t look down at me!’ He raised his upper body only for it to tear from his lower half,.‘DON’T LOOK DOWN ON ME YOU WOOOORMMMSSSssssss...!’

    Ironhide swung a mighty fist into Starscream’s skull, smashing it into the asteroid, silencing the Seeker. He turned to Optimus and shrugged. ‘Cannons overheated, had to improvise.’

    Optimus nodded. ‘Works for me. Now go.’

    ‘What?’

    ‘Go to the Ark, take Blackarachnia with you and activate the Ark’s cloaking field. The Decepticons shouldn’t be able to find you there.’

    ‘What?’ Ironhide repeated, his tone growing harsh.

    ‘Get some medical attention.’ Optimus advised, motioning to his shaking legs. ‘You can barely stand on your own. Use each other as supports if you want to make it back at all.’

    ‘Support-?’ Ironhide realized, turning to Blackarachnia, her legs also only barely keeping her upright. ‘Optimus, you don’t honestly expect me to let this murderer live, do you?’

    He shook his head. ‘I don’t. What I want you to do is take her back to the Ark and bound her with as many stasis cuffs as you need.’

    Blackarachnia waved a disinterested servo. ‘No really, if you’re going to kill me, do it now. It’s not like I can fight or anything-- not like I have much a reason to, anyway. I’m ready to die. If it at least makes someone happy, then I'll do it. I'll die.’

    Ironhide jabbed a finger at Optimus. ‘What’s the difference? We already know we aren’t going to spare her, so pick up Starscream’s gun and--‘

    Optimus drew his axe. ‘That is a direct order Ironhide, use her as a support to walk, put her in the cell, and wait for me. I will decide what we do with her later. Are we clear?’

    Ironhide clenched his fists, his optics narrowing. ‘Yes sir…’

    ‘Before we go…’ Blackarachnia pointed towards the ground where Starscream once lay, all that was left was the small crater shaped like that of the Seeker’s body outline, Starscream was missing, gone.

    ‘How the hell did he sneak off so quietly?’ Ironhide wondered.

    ‘Never mind that,’ Optimus said, jabbing his index finger in the direction of the Ark. ‘Go, activate the cloaking device, and stay there. Do what you want, if you kill her; fine, just know if you do I won’t let you on my ship ever again.’ He stopped, realizing how harsh he sounded, ‘I’ll… finish things up here.’

    Ironhide shut his optics, placing an arm around Blackarachnia who mirrored him just as coldly.

    ‘I’ll see you around, I guess.’ Ironhide muttered, rushing Blackarachnia along beside him.

    Optimus watched them limp their way over the large bumps and craters in the asteroid, into the direction of the Ark. As the yellow tint of yellow in the distance disappeared, camouflaging itself along with the landscape, he knew they would be safe. Sighing, Optimus activated the Ark’s automatic locks via his wrist compartment. ‘That’ll keep him at bay.’ He turned the other way, moving over to Starscream’s discarded Null ray before lifting the hefty laser-gun and fingering the trigger. A feeling of disdain overcame him upon wielding an enemy’s weapon, he didn’t know what it was, it just didn’t feel… right.

    A silver and red robot, at least a head or two taller than Optimus appeared in the corner of his optic.

    ‘So…’ Megatron spoke. ‘What have I missed?’
     
  11. Coffee

    Coffee (╭☞ꗞᨓꗞ)╭☞

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    It was over four-thousand years ago when the Decepticon regime had come to power. Four-thousand at the least, four-million at the most, or so the war archivist Rewind has recorded in his reports. The war was an event of which many had trouble accepting hadn't always existed, and so it's accurate length had become muddled over time. Even pre-war veterans like Kup and Landmine found it difficult to remember peace when the society they lived in was still recovering from a previous war not long beforehand. It occurred at the very end of the end of the Age of Dreadlock: named after the genocidal despot that led the Destron's towards the conquering of Cybertron. Dreadlock was ruthless, Dreadlock was charismatic, powerful, one of the most dictating dictators that ever dictated. But Zeta Prime was… more so. After conspiring with House Ambus, Prime set a trap and Dreadlock's army was arrested and put on trial (though most referred to the whole thing as one big joke). It was difficult to imagine. Every single petty soldier, hanged, stabbed, torched, and shot… except for Dreadlock. What happened to him is another story entirely, but this story isn't about him. Not yet. This story is about what came afterwards. Dreadlock wasn't an ordinary villain. Even after what happened to him, he didn't poof into thin air like most villains did, no, Dreadlock was a disease, one that stayed and lingered throughout the supposed Golden Age. Among the chaotic aftermath of Dreadlock's war-- of the growing number of institutes that promoted the alteration of one's mind, of the Senate's lapdogs that hunted down problematic individuals to make them "disappear"; of the conveniently discovered page in the Covenant that described those born with the Magnus principle were direct descendants of Primus (coincidentally, house Ambus turned out to have the highest rate of Magni born-- appropriate that a Magnus was given rank over a Prime given their large role in stopping Dreadlock and supposed non-existent expectation of anything in return), and the extreme functionalists who felt "every shape served a purpose", there was a single soul.

    A labourer, an intellectual, and a poet from Tarn. They say Dreadlock inspired Megatron-- that the Decepticons were an extension of the Destron Empire. It wouldn't be wrong to suggest the earliest Decepticons were just that considering Megatron's appeals to the few surviving supporters of the Destron cause. But Megatron was different. His words may have spawned the idea of equality on Cybertron, but it wasn't until he found that Decepticon Military Leader Clench wasn't quite as good at staying alive as he thought did he truly take charge. There were few that had any qualms with Megatron's leadership. Most had seen him as the rightful leader and founder anyhow.

    Most.

    For the past four-thousand years, Megatron had turned to war; killing Zeta Prime and Delta Magnus (Ultra Magnus was next on the list), creating monsters like Sixshot, Starscream and Tarn, (regrettably) destroying Cybertron after forcing his head scientist to create the now dismantled Fulcrum Bomb, and - of course - dominating the galaxy in order make up for the planet he lost. But like all great things, some lose interest, and some disappear completely. Megatron on the other hand hadn't. He may have lost much of his army as they left to pursue their own ideals for the Decepticons, but Megatron was different. He knew what pace to take, and if it meant eliminating the toughest Autobots one by one, then he would pursue it. Utilizing the dead/missing Shockwave's experimental tech, Megatron had planned to lure out the most competent of the Primes, the first to actually call for his attention however, this Optimus Prime, happened to be one of the more shocking revelations for him to this day.

    Optimus didn't say a word. Faced with the Decepticon leader, he swiftly turned around to confirm that it was only the two of them, and lifted his axe.

    In response, Megatron lifted a single index finger. Slowly pressing it against his chin, and examining the Autobot thoughtfully. 'So you're the one who killed Starscream?'

    Optimus didn't move, a bead of oil dripping down his helm as he stared at the Decepticon leader, he was sure answering him would not have been a good idea, but he couldn't help but whisper the tyrant's name. 'Megatron…'

    'And you can speak too, it seems. Aren't you full of surprises.' Megatron continued massaging his chin as he circled the Prime, his optics glazing over him as if he were making some detailed examination of his target. 'You also appear to recognize my name, but before we get to that, might I ask how you managed to kill my Aerospace Commander?'

    Prime squeezed the handle of his axe. 'I didn't kill him, I just- I used his vanity to my advantage and gauded him into taking to the ground. I got the upper hand and damaged his wings before knocking him out. He sort of just… disappeared after that.'

    Megatron's lips pursed as he nodded. 'Yes, Starscream does happen to have a tendency to run when things don’t go his way. Cowardice at its finest… I'll have to teach him a lesson about that later tonight.'

    Optimus felt a little disturbed over the prospect. He felt some form of apologetic kinship towards the Seeker Commander when faced with a common nightmare. Megatron's presence alone had kicked all of his natural instincts to kick into overdrive; his processor screaming at him to run. But he couldn't.

    'Now hold on...' Megatron said, frowning. 'you recognized me, didn't you?'

    'Everyone recognizes you!' Optimus blurted out. 'You're the most notorious Cybertronian who ever lived. Of course I'm going to recognize you!'

    Megatron waved his hand side-to-side in denial. 'No… that's not it. The way you looked at me, it was as if you had recognized me at a personal level.' He leaned forward, his face meters away from Prime's. 'You appear older than they usually are, but no. You're still not nearly as old as I am. You wouldn't be pre-war. Curious. Have we ever met?'

    Optimus felt tempted to swing his axe right then and there, but to miss out on the chance to explain his grievances to the one who caused them would have been his biggest regret. 'Yes.' He said finally. 'I don't suppose you remember, do you?'

    'I remember everything,' Megatron said.

    'You didn't remember me.' Prime's optics shifted. 'I was in charge of a squadron once. "Team Prime" we were called. We were in charge of looking after a certain planet. You know, to fight against one of your infiltration protocols.' He waited for a response, a dismissive motion or a scoff of evil, but to his surprise, Megatron remained perplexed, listening with a child-like fascination as Optimus continued. 'But… you see, I was never meant to be a leader, that's not modesty speaking, that's the truth. I was born a Prime. I don't expect you to know this, but Magnus's apparently have a direct lineage to Primus while the Primes... we have a direct lineage to the thirteen original Transformers. Since I was war-born, many Cybertronians, including myself, were forced to drop our original plans and careers and join the military. I was given the highest training, but since I spent my whole life prior trying to be a doctor, the polar-opposite of a war leader, I came out to be the worst of our best. That's how I got my name: "Optimus Prime", it was meant to be ironic. It literally means "the best Prime". And you can see just how that turned out after the surge hit.'

    Megatron nodded, staring off into space as if reminiscing about the past. 'Ah yes, the surge. My third largest regret.'

    Optimus could empathize. To his disgust. The surge was the driving force that turned the organics against the Cybertronians. At first they were mildly unamused by the Decepticons infiltrating their worlds, causing the typical mischief and propaganda that made their societies crumble inside out. But at the time, that's all it was, words and lies. As the knowledge of the Transformers grew, as they stopped becoming "robots in disguise", Megatron decided to be more realistic. A massive assault on every outpost, every spy and sneak in his army, every bounty hunter and information broker he could find did their jobs and assassinated their Autobot commanders, spilling the beans on as much information they possibly could before disappearing once again. It stunned the Autobots, to say the least. Enough so that it gave the Decepticons the chance to pull the trigger. With the outposts crippled, the surge began. Decepticons from all over attacked the organic colonies, burning several worlds and expanding their territory. The Autobots fought back of course, and while both sides lost many, there was triumph. With most of their leaders gone and many stranded and without ways of reconnecting with the orbital hub, there was solace in the fact that they could be their own people. Just as the predicted "Chaos Theory" foretold. Decepticons and Autobots alike left their leaders to fight the enemy in their own way, thus the guilds were formed. The Galactic Council issued its death orders, and the war reached the chaotic state it was today.

    'I had commanded Starscream and Soundwave to draw Autobot Command away from the carnage,' Megatron recalled. 'As for the rest of us, we began on the smaller colonies first. Earth was the one I personally conquered myself. I remember choosing it since it was located in the center of multiple galactic trade-routes. We would use it to spread infiltration troops and conquer the connecting planet-- ah!' Megatron jabbed a finger towards Optimus, his crimson optics widening. 'Don't tell me you were on Earth at the time as well?' He cautiously reared his head away from the smaller Autobot. 'Just what was your role?'

    Optimus hesitated, refusing to make proper eye contact. 'I was in charge of it, I am a Prime.'

    Suddenly, Megatron grabbed either side of Optimus's head, pulling it closer to his own amazed expression. 'What?! You commanded the Earth unit! Yes, I see now, you were there! You were the one whose failure began the Surge!' Optimus pried at Megatron's massive servos, prompting him to let go. Then, for the first time, Megatron laughed. It was booming, if not strangely fatherly. 'Hah! What a small universe this is, who'd of thought we'd meet again here and now!' He laughed again, patting Optimus playfully on the head.

    Optimus's anger intensified, but as much as he was ready to tear at Megatron's throat, he felt something else, he wanted to call it fear, but there was something more than that. It was legitimate concern over the way Megatron acted. It was unexpected of him.

    'But wait.' Megatron's hand remained fixed on Prime's head as he lightly shook him by the shoulder with the other. 'If you're a Prime, then shouldn't you be doing more important things by now? You should at the very least have a crew with you. Did the drone kill them?'

    'Yes.' it was the partial truth at least.

    'You're lying,' Megatron said, 'Which means that you didn't have a crew to begin with, or at least not one for very long.'

    He brought his servo to his chin once again, plunging himself back into thought. Humming as he massaged his wide jawline once again.

    'That's not important!' Optimus finally said, stammering back. 'What's important is why you haven't killed me ye-'

    'It would be difficult to assume that you were on your own,' Megatron continued, drowning out Prime's words, 'but at the same time it would make sense that you would turn to solitary confinement as a means of reconciliation for your actions.' He looked at Optimus. 'Am I right?'

    'Don't ignore m--' Optimus lunged forward, the pain in his leg returning to him. Not now. He winced. Any time but now.

    'Ah!' Megatron knelt before him, examining the wound. 'Are you injured?'

    He cringed. 'Perhaps. Like you would care.'

    Megatron reached forward, poking his finger into the hole. 'Hold on…' He tore it back out, popping the seams and pulling out a small piece of shrapnel. Suddenly, the pain was gone. 'There.'

    Confused, Optimus backed away from the Decepticon leader. 'Why are you helping me?' His gaze went cold. 'What do you want with me?'

    It was Megatron's turn to look confused. 'Why… I want you to rethink your loyalty to the Autobots, of course.'

    Optimus stayed his ground. 'Why.'

    'Is that a joke? I'm afraid Autobot humour isn't quite as prevalent as I remember. You. You were the one who managed to deactivate a drone that had had succeeded in wiping out several outposts beforehand. In addition, you --and I hate to keep bringing this up— managed to defeat Starscream: my Aerospace Commander, and one of the highest ranking members in the Decepticon Conclave. And let me tell you, I do not choose my sub commanders lightly.'

    'So you're saying that because I could outmatch Blackarachnia and Starscream--'

    'That I think you would be a worthy addition to the Decepticons, yes. Starscream is old news and old news bores me, now is the time to look to your future, and that future is with me. I am not one to waste an opportunity such as yourself, Prime, and I am certain that you can achieve greater things with us than with the Autobots whom you yourself despise.'

    Optimus paused, not in hesitation, but in consideration. Decepticons... Decepticon Optimus. He had fantasies about this very scenario once upon a time. He'd be a monster but... maybe it would be for a better cause. Maybe with them the universe would turn out for the better-- He brandished his axe. 'No way in hell.' Without another moment's notice, he lunged forward, swinging his axe towards Megatron, who limberly detected the blade and dodged it with an unexpected swiftness Prime could only recognize from one other source. Himself.

    'That's it,' Megatron encouraged. 'Keep your knees bent, your back should be arched more as well… but it's still… hm.' Avoiding the continuous assault, Megatron began to examine Optimus once again. 'I recognize this move set.' He grinned. 'It's mine.'

    'Shut up.'

    'You… who taught you how to fight?'

    'Lots of people.'

    'I know this…'

    Megatron kicked the ground, his hand striking forward, dashing through Prime's jaw, and tearing his faceplate clean off. As Optimus landed on his back, Megatron dusted off his hands, gazing down upon what he had just uncovered, watching, as Optimus shamefully lifted himself to his feet.

    'The Prime rises,' Megatron remarked.

    'Shut your mouth.' Optimus raised his head, revealing the face beneath his plate. One could say there wasn't anything special about his face, other than what was printed upon it. Prime's face was chiseled but generally plain looking as one might expect, but printed beneath his right optic in light purple ink was a symbol. A Decepticon symbol. 'I got this a long time ago.'

    'And you still have it? I know you're not a Decepticon. I may not be able to recite the names of every Decepticon from the top of my head, but I can certainly tell when someone's been exposed to them over periods of time. You're not one of them.'

    'I was never a Decepticon,' Optimus explained, his hands trembling. 'I learned how to fight from you, it's the only way I was able to properly graduate from the academy.' He was finished denying it. 'I was a Decepticon sympathizer, back before the surge, before I even fought one of you. I watched grainy footage of every pit-match I could buy from the black market. You say you can't recite every Decepticon's name? I can name all of the originals-- the ones that existed back when you were a gladiator. Soundwave, Ravage, Scorponok, Clench, Cy-kill… there's still gladiatorial combat today, you know? I practiced what I learned from you against the modern gladiators like Grimlock and Sunstreaker, and then… well, it worked! I graduated and was put in charge of my own squadron. Until that day, I thought your cause was just. Until…'

    'Until you realized how weak you actually were,' Megatron finished, tilting his head to the side. 'Those modern gladiatorial matches… they didn't permit death, did they? Ah. That's the borderline. The barrier. That's what separates you and I. I see that now.'

    'YOU MURDERED MY TEAM!' Optimus spat, he was shaking all over. 'People I loved, died just inches away from my face! Orders I gave led them to their deaths! All because of two Cybertronians: me, and you! You think I went into solitude without a reason?! I kept myself far away from those few who survived so it would never happen again! I refused to fight a broken cause for a broken cause! Because to support either would break everything!'

    Megatron stepped forward, fist beneath his chin. 'And yet… that's not entirely true, is it?' He grinned. 'Come now, you shouldn’t deny it. If you didn't love the smell of battle, you wouldn't have succeeded the way you did.'

    'No.'

    'Yes. A pacifist would have died whimpering and blaming others for their problems, but you're better than that. You've killed before, haven't you? You can certainly kill again. Why else would you abandon all of your weaponry, save for your axe?'

    'It's meant for exploration.'

    'And I'm certain you've used it for plenty of that.'

    'Shut up!' Optimus lunged forward. 'No more talk! You are my enemy and I'm going to defeat you!'

    Megatron callously stepped backwards, remaining untouched. 'There's the rage! The passion! The vigor of Decepticon!'

    'Shut up!' Optimus repeated, his axe coming closer to Megatron's face than it ever had before.

    'Careful!' Megatron spouted, mockingly. 'You nearly hit me that time. That was mean. If I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to kill-'

    A scar, running from Megatron's cheek to his chin had formed across his face. He ran a single digit across the scar-line, fingering the creases and discovering a trail of black liquid seeping from between the cracks.

    For once, Optimus felt an exhilerating sense of accomplishment. He had finally gotten a hit on Megatron, but that didn't compare to the satisfaction he received after seeing the look of shock on Megatron's face. 'Yeah? How's that for you.' He sprinted forward, optimism flooding his systems as he swung his axe again.

    Megatron reacted, grabbed his wrist before the blade could make contact. Slowly, Megatron's expression of pride and bewilderment morphed into something Optimus found all too familiar. It was exactly how he had been depicted as in the Autobot propaganda Prime had been exposed to for thousands of years. His expression distorted into the look of a raging lunatic. In a single motion, Megatron used his free hand to punch a crater into Prime's chest, and his other to pull backwards, sinews and joints snapping and crackling as Optimus's arm was ripped out from its socket, a long trail of soggy wires and black-crusted gears remaining where his limb once was. It was then Megatron made his promise as he sent the screaming Prime's body flying into the rock.

    'I'm going to kill you.'
     
  12. Coffee

    Coffee (╭☞ꗞᨓꗞ)╭☞

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    Twenty Years Ago…

    Optimus sat, his arms wrapped restlessly around his knees as the monitor’s light reflected off his silver face. His optics were widened in amazement as the figures danced across the screen. The video pictured a large silvery-blue mech wielding a large broadsword-like weapon, his fingers wrapped around its hilt as he managed a stance, aiming it beside his head. His opponent was a bulky white and blue mech holding a mace. After a moment of pause, the latter robot leapt into the air and transformed into a powerful looking truck-form. Fumes bellowing as he raced towards the silver mech, ramming him directly in the chest and pushing him back on his feet. Shrugging off the amount of force, the silver robot held his ground, his feet scraping against the rusted metal arena floor as he was pushed back by the inches. Cheers of adoration and applause came from all around them as the silver robot fought back, pressing forward and digging his large fingers into the blue robots roof.

    ‘You are an admirable combatant, Soundwave,’ The silver robot spoke, 'but you know I am better.’

    Megatron pulled upwards, wrenching Soundwave off of the ground and chucking him across the pit. The gladiator transformed and performed a backwards somersault, landing firmly on his heels and maintaining his balance. Re-attaching his broad-sword, Megatron dashed forward, shattering Soundwave’s glassed chest cavity with a round-house kick before dealing a swift cut to the mid-section with his blade. Soundwave crumbled to the ground, lying broken and wounded as Megatron raised his blade above his head. ‘I hate to repeat myself.’ Megatron said, ‘but you really are admirable.’ He lowered the blade smiling.

    The blade missed Soundwave’s head completely, sticking out of the ground like a pike. Ignoring the sounds of the murmurs and boos from the thousands of spectators around him, Megatron offered his opponent a hand, pulling the shocked gladiator to his feet.

    ‘I know you Soundwave, you are… troubled, an outlier, one with a gift. a gift that the Senate fears.’ He raised a hand, addressing the crowd. ‘The same way they fear the whole lot of us!’

    Between the cracks of the murmurs of revulsion and condescension was the sounds of guilty pride, faint snickers and whoops. It hadn't been Megatron's first speech between performances. He was notorious within the gladiatorial sphere for reciting his anti-government oration between kills. Some considered him a joke. Though some found his talks appealing. Some more than others.

    Regardless, he continued. ‘They think they can use you, Soundwave. That they can take what's rightfully yours for the sake of control. To oppress the populace-- to eliminate the right of free speech! Will you join me, Soundwave? Will you prove to us once and for all, the flawed, competitive, one-sided nature of the ruling government? Will you prove to us what real justice is? What it means to be equal in our parts? What it means for all to be one?’

    After a moment of hesitation, Soundwave bowed his head, ‘I will.’

    ‘Then rise, and we will prove to our oppressors that we are not slaves, nor objects to be used at our expense. We are people, and we. Are. ALIVE!’

    The crowd erupted into a flurry of cheers and jeers. Applause, both ironic and real.

    Optimus's cheers were real. It was only footage of the real thing he had been watching, but it was enough to fire him up. It always did. He roared with applause, wishing that somehow, somewhere, Megatron knew he was supporting him. He was lost in his own world of made-up, and it was glorious. It all ended prematurely at the sound of footsteps approaching his quarters.

    ‘Optimus Prime!’ Prowl shouted, opening the door uninvited. With no time to remember how to turn off a monitor, Optimus quickly punched a hole in the screen. It ended

    His head spun back towards the black and white mech, his optics convulsing. ‘What?! What do you want?!’

    Prowl raised his servos above his head as if he were being threatened with a gun, ‘Sorry! Sorry, I was just… I didn’t mean to interrupt!’

    Unsure of what Prowl might have been thinking, Prime slowly removed his fist from the monitor, peeling off the skin of his fingertips as he dragged them along the sharpness of the glass. ‘I’m sorry Prowl, you just –unf- caught me off guard. I was in the middle of… fighting my computer.

    Prowl lowered his hands slowly. He squinted at the Prime skeptically. ‘Fighting your computer..?

    ‘Did I say fighting? I meant... fixing.' he waved the matter aside with a flick of his servo. 'Never mind that. What have you to report?’

    ‘Sorry,' Prowl repeated, ‘I just have some, er, news.’

    Optimus spun around in his chair to face his colleague; flipping the switch on his desk-side lamp before making a steeple with his fingers. ‘Good news or bad news?’

    ‘Well…’ Prowl tried to hold a solemn face, but could barely contain himself. He cracked a smile, ‘I just got the news from the Orbital Hub. Delta Magnus wants me to act as his Head Military Strategist starting tomorrow.’

    Prime blinked, waiting for his third-in-command to say “just kidding” before mirroring his widened grin and leaping out of his chair, ‘Are you—? Do you—? That’s great! That's amazing!’ The Prime leaped over his desk and wrapped his arms around Prowl, lifting him off the ground and swinging him around in circles. 'You finally did it!'

    ‘Cut it out Prime!’ Prowl couldn’t prevent himself from letting out a giggle. ‘It’s not that big of a deal-- I've been a military strategist for decacycles...’

    ‘Not that big of a deal?’ he dropped Prowl on his feet. ‘My best friend is going to be a member of High Command! You expect me not to be happy for you?!’

    Prowl held back his laugh, trying to maintain his cooler atmosphere, ‘Okay, okay, we can celebrate later. First things first. Elita wants you on the bridge; something about a bug in the trade routes.’

    Optimus chuckled, performing a phoney salute, ‘Aye, aye sir!’

    Prowl smirked, something he only did around Optimus. 'I better get going too. I'm afraid my schedule won't be as free once I'm under Delta's direct command,’ he performed the proper version of a salute before turning to the door behind him.

    ‘Hey Prowl?’

    He stopped.

    ‘Congratulations.’

    He smiled for the last time.

    The moment the door closed, Prime lept to the monitor, digging and twisting his arm in the mangled mess of equipment. Stopping with an “aha”, he pulled out a small disc containing the footage he had been watching prior.

    ‘That was a close one…’ he muttered to himself. For a moment, he began to wonder. Prowl was going to leave. Prowl was going to achieve his dreams.

    Optimus wondered if he would ever achieve his own dream/

    He wondered if he’d ever get to meet Megatron.

    -----

    Now

    Prime’s vocalizer raised a pitch as Megatron dug his fingers into his face. Black liquid rose out of the open gash as he pressed deeper, finger tips reaching deep inside of mesh of his exo-skull.

    He pulled backwards, and as swiftly as he had pulled the sliver out of his leg, Megatron tore the Decepticon tattoo out from beneath his optic, blood filling the gap as quickly as it had been formed. Optimus was on his back, Megatron’s massive frame hovering over him as he raised Prime’s severed arm above his head. Swinging the broken limb like a club, Megatron assaulted Optimus again, and again, and again. His own arm colliding with his head and sending chunks of metal and viscera splattering across the rock. Neither robot could tell whether the metal was from his arm or his head, but that was of little matter as the next hit dashed Prime’s metallic teeth into the asteroid. Optimus didn’t know when Megatron had stopped clubbing him and started using his fists, but he could have probably guessed it was when the makeshift weapon had disintegrated into a spindly husk from the amount of force put into each swing.

    His vision was a blur. The last thing he had witnessed was Megatron's face, seconds before slamming into him. His teeth were gritted, his eyes were wide and bright. He was in for the kill.

    His hearing was nearly gone, and with its absence the whole experience took a turn for the mundane. No taunts, no dramatic music. Nothing more than a repeating BANG, BANG, BANG. Each strike as painful as the last, and each strike just as swift. It felt almost supernatural, the time between blows was so short that Optimus could have sworn there had been more than one assailant pounding on him. He tried to struggle. It didn’t work. Then, just as he was growing used to the pain, it stopped. He could see again.

    Megatron was kneeling just as he did before. Though in place of his maniacal expression was that of his previously calmer disposition. His eyes were shut and his hands were clapped together as if in prayer. He inhaled deeply before opening his eyes once more. Grabbing him by the collar, Megatron lifted the Prime to his feet, eyeing his bruised and damaged state before dusting him off. ‘You told me your biggest secret, didn’t you…?’

    Optimus didn’t answer.

    Megatron tilted his head to the side, ‘You can keep one of mine, can’t you?’

    Optimus didn’t answer.

    ‘Here’s the truth, I’m old, nearing five-thousand to be exact. When you reach my age you begin to…’ he brought his hand to his face, stroking his every crevice as if trying to relax himself before continuing, ‘… well, let’s say things happen to one’s mind over a long period of time. Now be quiet while this old man tells you a story. You see, my occupation requires a certain degree of... violence to be carried out. It's war. Surely you understand. You understand, don't you?'

    Nothing.

    'Yes, well-- as you have just seen, I tend to… lose myself when carrying out these necessary acts of violence.’ He paused to shake Optimus, making sure he was still awake, ‘I don’t like that. I don’t like it when people see me as some... you know, violent monster that preys on the weak. Hanging my victims and torturing souls... I'm not like that. I know I’m not like that. I know that I’m a hero. I’ve liberated countless Cybertronians. I ended the Senate. I ended the principles that denied our freedom and pre-designed our lives based on the forms we turned into. I am justified. I am… civil, but when I can’t control myself. When I am pushed over the edge I just…’ Megatron struggled with his words, dropping Optimus onto his knees and clenching his fists, ‘…I become that monster you want to believe I am. and you’re not wrong, I am a monster, in a sense, but deep inside—‘

    He looked down upon his bloodied servos, and then to the coughing and spitting Optimus, ‘--deep inside I know I’m still… me.’ He clapped his hands together, preparing to move on. ‘So, as anyone in their right mind would do, I sought out help, at first I thought of hiring a Psychotherapist… an Autobot, Rung. But as he was a little busy assisting a Prime with his own issues, I searched for someone decidedly closer to home. Rossum was his name. The one who theorized the trinity? Well, as he also studied Psychoanalysis, I had him look after my brain… and would you believe that he diagnosed me as insane?’

    Optimus coughed.

    ‘Apparently my several decades of taking lives and conquering the known galaxy drove me to it. I asked him how it was possible and he told me that there were two definitions, the prominent one being a spectrum of abnormal behaviour and thought, and I thought: okay, death and destruction happens when trying to win a war. My motto of “peace through tyranny” would be meaningless if that didn’t occur. I am still doing what's right. I don’t gain any pleasure from killing, mind you.’ He frowned, as if coming to realize something about himself, ‘I don’t feel anything actually.’ He shook his head. ‘His second definition was more of a—let’s say a joke, it read that insanity involved doing the exact same thing, over and over again, and expecting things to change. I laughed. Rossum laughed. So –bang—I shot him dead. The next day, won’t you know it, I was looking around… looking around at the war, and I was seeing everyone doing the exact same thing… over and over again… we the Decepticons would come up with a plan to end the war faster, you lot would stop it from happening and then—heh—“Decepticons, retreat!”. And I kept watching, thinking, no, this time things will change, no this this time, no-- I’m sorry.’ Megatron lifted Optimus off of the ground once more, squeezing him by the collar until the Prime was coughing and hacking once again. ‘I’m sorry, but I do NOT LIKE THE WAY YOU ARE LOOKING AT ME RIGHT NOW!’

    Smashing him back into the ground, the Decepticon leader pressed his heel against the small of Prime’s back, twisting it and shedding the metallic paint above his spinal strut. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll… relax. I’m in control.’

    ‘How do you do it?’ Optimus managed, his face in the dirt.

    ‘Do what?’

    ‘How do you kill without feeling anything? The people you kill have lives, friends... how can you not feel anything from it?’ He braced to be struck, but received none. Megatron merely stared, his face blank.

    ‘When you step on an insect, do you feel anything from it? Better yet, when you swat a cyber-fly, do you think about its friends or families? That’s how I feel. That, Optimus, is an accurate summation of how I feel towards the people I kill.’

    ‘If you think you’re so above everyone else… then... doesn’t that make you just as bad as the thing you fought…?’

    Megatron grimaced, chucking the Prime into an indent in the asteroid. ‘You will never understand. We’re all equal, Prime, but some are deserving equality more than others. There are those who deny equality, and those who fight for it. Are you of the former, or the latter, Optimus? I wonder.’ He advanced, only for Optimus Prime to rotate on the ground, changing and morphing into his truck-form. His thrusters ablaze as he shot himself forward, accelerating as far away from Megatron as he could.

    He couldn't tell whether Megatron was following him or not, and he was not about to check. Optics forward, he drove. After a kilometer or so, he swerved to the side, transforming and rolling behind a large piece of rock sticking out of the ground, Megatron nowhere in sight. All he could hear were the warlord's shouts from afar.

    ‘You’re going to run away?!’ his voice bellowed out. ‘You are going to disrespect me? After everything, you aren’t even going to put up a fight?’ He laughed and a chill ran down Prime’s spinal strut. He had never been so scared in his life. ‘I like that, no, I respect that, Prime. Now, if I am correct…’

    Prime turned around to find Megatron standing before him, his hands folded neatly behind his back as he bared his teeth. ‘Now’s the part where you scream.’

    Optimus did just that before dashing away once again, transforming into his truck form and blazing across the asteroid's surface. Just as he regained the slight glimmer of hope he had at the beginning of the fight, he was outrun by a massive, barrel-less tank that shredded the ground beneath its treads. The silver tank’s plating shifted and formed that of Megatron as he kicked off of the ground with one leg and land in front of Optimus with the other.

    Forced to either transform or crash, Optimus chose the former, sliding on his heels and coming to a stop before the much larger Decepticon.

    ‘Do you not understand Optimus?’ Megatron said, slamming his fist into the Prime’s face once more. ‘This entire universe is on a slant, and I am the balancing point.’ He dropped a fist once again, only for Optimus to catch it with his remaining arm.

    ‘Yeah?’ Optimus pushed forward, grabbing Megatron by his wrist and tugging as hard as he could, pulling the shocked Decepticon over his shoulder and utilizing his weight to hurdle him into the ground. ‘Then I’m the one who’ll set you askew!’

    Megatron dusted off his chest and chuckled. ‘And here I thought you weren’t even going to try.’ Dragging himself back to his feet, the Decepticon leader smirked, sprinting towards the red Autobot and delivering a powerful clothes-line with an outstretched arm, crashing Optimus back to the ground. Optimus managed to escape his grip and somersaulted backwards, dodging Megatron’s grabs and leaping off the ground to perform a scissor-kick, dragging the silver robot to the ground between his legs. Before he could get back up, Optimus swung his fist against Megatron’s cranium, dashing his reflective helm and forcing him to spit up some neon-green liquid. He raised his head once again only to receive another fist that knocked him back into the rock followed by an upper cut that lifted the Decepticon leader off the ground. Landing on his knees, Megatron managed to catch his balance and let out a blood-thirsty roar before charging the Prime, throwing a flurry of punches and kicks that Optimus responded with in turn. The two forces were nearly equal in strength as their strikes took off chunks of metal and wiring from their bodies. Nearly. With only one arm to protect himself, Optimus was body slammed by the larger Megatron, descending to the ground where the Decepticon leader pinned him, his hand wrapped around Prime’s throat.

    ‘It’s over, Prime. you may not be the one for me, but if it is any consideration, I will remember you until the day I die. Now then, before I dash your skull against this asteroid, would you please sate my appetite for a cliche, and give me your last words?’

    He nodded, and with a click, a loud siren-like noise rang from the Prime's body.

    Megatron frowned, ‘That isn’t—those aren’t words, what is…’ his optics darted to the source of the sound. He grabbed Optimus by the wrist and pried at his balled fist, forcing him to release his grip. In his hand was a small, brown dial, dotted with a number of buttons and readings upon it, in its center was a blinking light; flashing an aqua green.

    Optimus wheezed. ‘My last words: look up.’

    Megatron did as he was told to see a large, pointed object headed straight for him. It was a spaceship, a brown and aqua-green coloured ship with a shattered cockpit and a stream of flames trailing behind it. Written across its helm was the name of the ship.

    “The ship was on autopilot for crying out loud, you literally just pick a location, press a dial on the remote, and presto, that’s where it takes you. There must have been a splotch of cosmic rust on the warp engine, or a malfunction with the ship’s AI for all I know, because if you can’t already tell, this isn’t where I wanted to be.”

    Moments after he had pressed on the remote, Sky-Line’s ship had begun it’s take off sequence, large thrusters torching the solid rock as the ship aimed for a random destination and shot itself forward. By the time Optimus had stepped outside, Sky-Line’s ship was already a tiny white speck in the distance.

    ‘The Prodigy returns.’ Optimus said. Using the distraction to his advantage, Optimus managed to wrestle out of Megatron's grip by transforming. Before Megatron had the chance to grab hold of him once more, Optimus activated his thrusters, accelerating away from the Decepticon leader as fast as he could. ‘Thanks Sky-Line.’

    Megatron remained kneeling, staring up at the flaming ship as it nose-dived directly on top of him.

    ‘Heh.’

    No sound travels through space. The Cybertronians learned to communicate through a matter of inter-radio communications. Even a massive fireball engulfing a moon-sized asteroid as a result of a kamikaze'd spaceship couldn’t compare to a sigh. Though the sight was not one to be ignored.

    Ironhide stopped what he was doing and gazed out through one of the Ark’s windows.

    Starscream ignored the feat and continued his pathetic crawl.

    Thundercracker gently leaned Skywarp against a rock and jogged towards the explosion to see what had occurred.

    Soundwave witnessed the massive energy discharge and frowned beneath his mask.

    Optimus was sent tumbling forward. The force of the blast sending him soaring through the air, and rolling across the rock. Forced into his robot mode, Optimus could only barely hold himself together until the blast subsided. He was covered in aches and burns, and his back had been practically set ablaze. The flames dissipated soon enough, but the pain didn't go away. He rolled himself over and took in the view in front of him. A massive crater had formed into the side of asteroid, chunks of metal and equipment drifted perpetually across the crash-site. There was no artificial gravity available for it to touch the ground. Its paint had all but melted off from the shortly lived flames.

    Optimus sighed, begrudgingly picking himself up and dusting off the chunks of dust and metal from his frame. He didn’t want to go near it, but he had to see for himself. He had to see if Megatron had survived.

    ‘I’m going to regret this…’ he said, stepping down the slope and carefully making his way into the broken area. Swallowing his remaining fear, he walked into the smoke. He was surrounded by shapes and colours of all kinds. His foot bumped against a stray object causing him to flinch. It was Starscream’s discarded Null-Ray, perfectly intact albeit marked with the few scratches and burns. He picked up the weapon and fingered the trigger, the only difference was the absence of disgust he had upon wielding it previously. He could hear a voice and looked up from the weapon. In the distance was Megatron, lying on his stomach, the lower half of his body crushed between a large piece of debris that had once formed the ship’s cock-pit while his upper half was mangled and broken, seemingly beyond use. Both wrists snapped backwards, his helmet nearly all but torn off, and his right optic dangling outside of its socket by a thin wire. He was reaching for Optimus, the fight still inside of him, as if he was certain he was going to win. Optimus approached him, cocking the rifle and training it at the Decepticon’s head.

    Megatron faltered, dropping his arms and laughing to himself. ‘Here we are. You win. I lose.' He squinted. 'I don’t like you.' He nodded at the weapon. 'It’s your choice, Prime, are you going to kill me? End my life now and stop me from achieving my dream? Or stick to the naïve assumptions of your creed and take me prisoner. Put me on trial and watch as I escape to pursue my goals once more.’

    ‘Death is too good for you.’

    ‘Oh, but death is all that we deserve.’ He swallowed hard, and strained his neck so he could look at the expanse of space above. ‘Can you see it, Optimus? Can you see the future? I can. I know you could too if you really tried. You and I, we’ll be together, fighting until the end of time… Locked in perpetual conflict, fighting over and over. Again and again. Never faltering. Never fading. Lasting forever. Until all are one. But it doesn’t have to be that way.’

    Optimus lowered Starscream’s gun only for Megatron to laugh.

    ‘Did you enjoy my old war videos… hm?’ he shot him a mocking grin. ‘Did I made a warrior out of you after all? Come on…’ he shaped his servos like that of a pair of pistols and pointed them at Optimus, making a clacking noise with his tongue. ‘…pull the trigger.’ It was a suggestion. When Optimus didn’t move he reached forward, grabbing the barrel of the gun with both hands and bringing it to his forehead. ‘I said PULL THE TRIGGER!

    SHOOT ME!

    END THIS BLOODY MISERY!’

    But he didn't. And when he did not, Megatron sighed. He let his servos drop to the ground.

    'I was wrong about you. You would never have made a good Deceptico--'

    Bang.

    Megatron looked down at his chest. His spark casing was ruptured. He looked back at Optimus, eyes wide. 'You shot me!'

    Optimus unloaded a round dead center in Megatron’s head. His skull snapped backwards and convulsed as chunks of exoskeleton and CPU shot out the back of his head. Optimus kept his ground. He fired again, and again, reducing Megatron’s skull to an unrecognizable stump and caving his chest in on his spark. The energy from his imploded spark torched the rest of his torso before dimming to an ember, and to a husk. The gun was out of ammunition when he finished, firing blanks until he let go of the trigger. Optimus took a moment to look down upon what he had done before taking his leave. ‘How do you like me now?’ he said to Megatron, trying to drop the Null-Ray and failing. It didn't want to leave his grip.

    ‘I did it,’ he said aloud, a sudden skip in his step as he walked away, ‘I won.’

    He would have to tell Ironhide when he got back. He would be proud. Probably. Strangely, he began to notice how much longer it took to reach the crater’s edge from the center than it did the other way around. The smoke also appeared to be thicker than it was initially. It was as if the smoke were alive, caressing and checking him over as if it were unsure whether the Prime was worthy of walking through it. There was someone else there too. Thundercracker? The smoke spoke to him, in voices he did not know.

    What is this feeling…? …should be happy… ...a hero… He’s finally… … revenge… Why do I…? what am I going to tell…? what am I supposed to…? Oh my God... what have I done…? What have I done... What have I done... I don’t feel alive.

    It took some time, but Prime began to realize that the voice was his own. Next thing he knew, he was falling.

    His entire world shattered around him, like cracks rippling through a glass pane. He felt as though his reality was splitting and merging and tearing itself apart. He felt he was being dragged through the ground and into a vortex of despair and torment. He forgot who he was, remembered wrongly, then remembered again.

    He was falling. Through the smoke, his memories played before him. It was as if he were watching faulty video processor. The images were there, but only for a moment. It was as if he were opening and closing his eyes repeatedly as the image changed before him. He saw a robot with a red head crest shaking him awake, asking him where he’s from or what his name is. He couldn’t remember. He saw a robot yelling at another, ordering them to return to their studies. He saw Delta Magnus, ordering him to join the academy. He saw a red and silver face, offering him a hand and calling himself “Ironhide”. He saw a silver gladiator pumping his fist into the air as thousands cheered him on. He saw that same head-crested robot, smiling at him for the very last time. He saw thousands of spaceships above him. He saw fire. He saw ice. He saw humans running. He saw the head crested robot standing among the flames. He saw the gladiator, crushing his second in command’s head in the palm of his hand. He saw his lieutenant, dying, but not dead in his arms. He witnessed the betrayal. He saw Delta Magnus’s head on a spike as the gladiator paraded it about. He saw a ship crashing.

    He was walking. The smoke spoke to him again, voices blurring together.

    “You’re a Prime! One of the few commanding officers with a title still connected to high command, one of the few even chosen for the role! You’re not like those self-appointing ‘Independents’ like Grimlock, Springer or-or Chromia, you possess an Ark-Class Spacecraft- despite doing nothing with it for the past decade but fly around, aimlessly through space. You are a Prime-Commander and You. Have. A DUTY!”

    He climbed the slope of the crater, coming to walk on all fours to maintain his balance.

    “You, my friend, are a monster. You enjoy seeing others in pain, don’t you?”

    He scraped his arm on a piece of shrapnel, Energon leaking from the wound as he pushed forward. He couldn’t feel the pain.

    “Billions died today, and with the rate this war is going, billions will die tomorrow, and the next day, and so on.”

    He tried to pull himself forward but stammered, letting his frustration fuel his climb.

    “What’s wrong Autobot? Afraid to see a little blood?”

    Space-dust covered his optics as he pulled on the rock, blinding him as he tried to wipe it all away.

    “It appears that your friend has abandoned you, pity, friends are never a good thing to keep, they have a tendency to betray you when you least expect it.”

    He wondered about Ironhide. What if he couldn't get out of the pit? Would Ironhide assume he was dead? What was there to say he hadn’t already left?

    “This entire universe is on a slant, and I am the balancing point.”

    He didn’t know when he had arrived at the Ark, one moment he was in the pit, and the next he was standing in the Ark’s doorway.

    ‘… Ironhide?’

    The black Autobot bounded into view, a look of shock plastered across his face. ‘Optimus! You’re alive—what was that explosion? Oh forget it, come here. Let me use the last of the repair ray on you. You got any spare arms around here?’
     
  13. Stonecrusher

    Stonecrusher Just another Edgelord

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    ...Megatron dead... Well, we no longer have an antagonist! Congratulations!
     
  14. Coffee

    Coffee (╭☞ꗞᨓꗞ)╭☞

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    Pfft. Like Megatron is really dead...

    or the real antagonist.

    But he is. One of them at least.
     
  15. Necromaster

    Necromaster FEAR ME MORTALS

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    I...

    ...oh.

    Oh, wow.

    Megatron is messed up. Seriously, I deliberately wrote my interpretation to be a sociopath, but this... this takes the cake. Spacefarers Megatron is a lunatic, through and through. Given how unstable he's been presented here, it's a wonder how he hasn't been put in a nice, yellow, padded room with a straitjacket locked tight around him. And his quote about "some are more deserving of being equal than others" reminds me an awful lot of George Orwell's Animal farm. Was that deliberate?

    Coffee. you are an amazing writer. I eagerly await the next chapter of Spacefarers.
     
  16. Coffee

    Coffee (╭☞ꗞᨓꗞ)╭☞

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    Wow... thanks Zombie. I based a lot of Megatron off of his UT portrayel. Whereas he is a barbaric monster who would wade through a pool of corpses just to kill the last remaining Autobot, but tries to temper this with a degree of politeness and intellectual talk. It doesn't always help, but to him it does. Hopefully his moments with Optimus have proven to be scarring enough, because Spacefarers Prime won't be forgetting him any time soon.

    And yeah, the Animal Farm reference was deliberate. His whole ideal revolves around equality among Cybertronians, but he has since gone past that, reaching the point where anyone disagrees is obviously wrong and should be punished for not thinking his way. The quote "more equal than others" just fit with this perfectly to me.
     
  17. Coffee

    Coffee (╭☞ꗞᨓꗞ)╭☞

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    Starscream was alive.

    It was a difficult fact for even him to believe let alone understand, but it kept him moving. With his nervous system disconnected from his lower half and his limbs broken beyond cognitive use, he was reduced to a crawling, crumpling wreck. But he was alive. He wasn’t sure where he was going or where the others went, but regardless, he was not going to stop his miserable wriggle across the asteroid's filth. He grunted upon breaking the tip of his finger against a large piece of stone and kept moving only to be showered by a blinding white light from above. Curling into a ball, the seeker tried to cover his eyes only for the flashes of crimson to poor in through his lids. Surrendering himself to the light, he opened his eyes and exposed himself to it. He wondered…

    ‘…God? Is that you?’

    The light faded and a large purple ramp dropped down before him, standing within the light was a single silhouette.

    ‘No…’ said the shadow, ‘It’s just me…’

    Soundwave turned his back to the seeker, and strode back into the Nemesis as it began to take off once again. Convinced not to be left behind, Starscream wriggled and struggled up the ramp, slowly making his way into the Nemesis holding deck. Once inside, Soundwave was nowhere to be seen. He had apparently left for the bridge, probably chatting up with Megatron, the two had known each other since the beginning after all. One of the only remaining pit-fighters from all those years ago and now the head of communications. What a way to go, Starscream thought.

    Thundercracker was waiting for him on the bridge, his fingers trembling over the controls. Skywarp laid within a large tube-like container a few feet away, his body preserved for further medical attention at Kaon. He looked practically dead. Soundwave, however, was nowhere to be seen. Thundercracker barely seemed to notice the Aerospace Commander as he entered the room, nor did he seem to care.

    ‘Thundercracker.’ Starscream could only manage saying his name so loud, ‘where is—what’s going on?’

    Thundercracker stared at him, his pale optics flashing a bright white, ‘I just—he’s gone.’

    Starscream’s optics rolled, ‘Yes of course, the Prime is gone now so—kaff—there’s no need for you to fear any longer, I… scared them off.’ He closed his optics, ‘these scratches are from—because… I… tripped and—‘

    ‘I’m not talking about the Prime!’ Thundercracker spat. ‘Don’t you get it? It’s Megatron, he—‘

    ‘What about Megatron?’ Soundwave entered the bridge, his head reared in a manner of disgust. A rare occasion, as he never gave off any hint of emotion otherwise.

    ‘He—he’s—’ Thundercracker lowered his head, calming himself down before answering. ‘He’s dead. Megatron is dead. Optimus Prime killed him.’

    There was silence on the bridge. Both parties dealing with their news in their own ways.

    ‘He’s—’Starscream couldn’t manage to finish his sentence. He couldn’t even finish the thought. Megatron is ____. What does that mean? What does that even—?

    ‘He’s not.’ Starscream finally spluttered, a wad of drool dripping down the corner of his cheek. ‘He’s not actually, he still—we haven’t—he can’t—he— we—.’ Starscream collapsed against the hard, metal floor with a clang.

    Thundercracker turned to Soundwave for a reaction. The officer didn’t move, frozen in place before managing an ‘Oh,’ and resuming his tasks. 'Then we better get him back to Kaon quickly if we want him to survive.'

    Yhundercracker knew there to be no point. He saw it himself. The blue seeker turned to the unconscious Skywarp and Starscream, and then to the ignorant Soundwave. He wondered aloud: ‘What the hell is going on around here?!’

    -----

    They waited twenty minutes after the Nemesis' departed to uncloak the Ark. Ironhide rose from his work-bench, his repair ray all but depleted. It was burned out; worthless. It was no wonder they were never used anymore. ‘Then I take it they assume you died in the explosion?'

    Optimus nodded, flexing and stretching his newly crafted arm. ‘Yeah, I guess… I used Sky-Line’s ship as a means of escape, but I—‘ He checked over his words, ‘—but I don’t know about Megatron. I’m thinking he retreated when he thought I was dead.’

    Ironhide shrugged, tossing aside the dysfunctional piece of equipment and slouching against the wall. ‘At least he’s out of our grease for the time being.’

    Optimus nodded again. He frowned. ‘Ironhide, where is Blackarachnia?’

    The bulkier Autobot didn’t answer, his optics shifting from side to side.

    ‘Ironhide,’ Prime repeated, ‘what have you done with Blackarachnia?’

    The burly Autobot sighed, lifting himself back on his feet and stretching his calves. ‘I shot her… or at least that’s what I want to say. I had her locked up in the brig, made sure she wouldn’t escape this time.

    Exhaling, Optimus motioned Ironhide to follow, and the duo walked towards the brig in silence. Inside one of the cells was Blackarachnia, sitting with her knees below her chin, her wrists bound with a pair of stasis-cuffs. Unlocking the cell, Optimus approached the Decepticon with an air of assurance. It didn't appear to help.

    ‘Do it,’ Blackarachnia said, ‘just get it over with, will you? If you won't shoot me then you could, hypothetically, I mean, hand me over to be dissected and experimented upon by your Autobot scientists. Best case scenario I survive to rot in jail for an eternity. Now you tell me; is that what you call that justice? Spare me some dignity would you? End me. Now.’

    Optimus struggled, realizing that he was still holding on to Starscream’s cannon, he raised it to Blackarachnia’s helm, watching as she shut her four optics. A bead of oil trickling down her cheek. He tried to make out her face, to pull the trigger, but all he could see was Megatron.

    Ironhide placed a heavy hand on his newly constructed shoulder. ‘Do it.’

    ‘No.’ Optimus moved the barrel of the gun away from her head and tossed it across the room, watching as it shattered into half a dozen individual parts. Before anyone could question why, he kicked off Blackarachnia’s stasis cuffs and set her free. ‘No more killing, no more faceplates, no more war. We’re done here.’

    Both robots looked on in shock, in time they had both erupted into a one-sided argument, agreeing that what Optimus was doing was wrong.

    ‘You’re just going to let her go?!’ Ironhide snarled, ‘after everything she’s done, after she’s killed Sky-Line and Incision?!’

    ‘Please, I don’t even want to go, I have nowhere to go! Just do the civil thing-- the smart thing and kill me you coward!’

    ‘ENOUGH!’ Optimus yelled and both robots fell silent. He turned to Blackarachnia, ‘I’m not killing you, I’m not setting you free, and I’m sure as hell not going to hand you over to Prowl. From now on this Ark…’ he gestured to the walls around him, ‘is neither Autobot nor Decepticon property, it’s my property, and therefore, you are my prisoner.’

    Blackarachnia was struck silent, unsure of how to respond.

    ‘Look, you have no place in this universe, I have no place in this universe…’ Optimus turned to Ironhide, ‘and I am sure as slag that you have nowhere to be either, Ironhide.’ He pressed the tips of his fingers together, eyeing them carefully, ‘The three of us… I think we can make it through all of this… together. I think we can fix these mistakes.’

    ‘So what are you asking of me exactly?’ Blackarachnia wondered, massaging her wrists. ‘To stay here, locked up as your prisoner? To forget we were ever on opposite sides of the biggest war in the history of the universe?’

    He shook his head, ‘I’m asking you to join me. As one outcast to another, help me clean up what our war has done to this galaxy. Call it community service... only if you replace the "community" with my ship.’

    ‘Out of the question.’ Ironhide spat, his arms crossed and his optics flaring vigorously. ‘You can’t expect me to accept this Prime. She killed people, Prime, she killed Incision!’

    Optimus took a large step towards his fellow Autobot, his stance mirroring his in terms of aggression, ‘Like you killed that seeker?’

    Ironhide was taken aback, trying to form a concise argument only to stumble his words. ‘Well, I don’t know if I killed him, but—‘

    ‘But you tried. You could have disabled him, or warned him, or anything, but in that moment you tried to end his life like you did who-knows how many cons in the past. We are soldiers, Ironhide, we have all killed other members of our race.’ He turned back to Blackarachnia. ‘And for the record, I don’t forgive you, I can’t. In fact, my hate for you at this moment brought me this close to pulling the trigger. But if we are ever going to grow out of this stupid debacle we call a war…’ he held out his hand, ‘I think we need to learn how to cope with our hate, first.’

    Blackarachnia hesitated before standing, ‘And… you’re actually going to trust me>’

    ‘You can do whatever you want, escape, steal from me, kill Ironhide—‘

    ‘What?!’

    ‘-- Frankly, I've got nothing to lose! But just so you know, if you try to kill anyone at any time without my permission, I will kill you. I think that’s a good enough reason for me to trust you won’t do anything stupid.’

    Blackarachnia sighed, placing her hand over his, ‘Yeah… fine. It’s not like I have any friends I can call up to bunk with anyways.’

    Optimus turned to Ironhide.

    The black Autobot was set in place, staring with his arms folded tight. ‘You can’t expect me to be okay with this.’

    ‘But you'll stay anyway?’

    He growled before placing his hand over Prime and Blackarachnia’s. ‘You couldn’t keep me away, after all, who else is going to watch your back when you’ve got this little cretin lurking around?’

    They nodded, and Optimus reeled back, ‘Alright, then it’s settled, you two are going to accompany me for as long as—well, for as long as we’re all comfortable with it, I suppose.’

    ‘Well, I can't say I'm comfortable,’ Blackarachnia said, ‘in fact I think I'd define myself as a very uncomfortable person. Wait, this doesn’t mean I’m an Autobot now, does it?’

    ‘Well the Autobots aren’t going to kill us at least,’ Optimus said, ‘but no, we’re not working for them.’ Optimus managed to muster a properly heroic stance. ‘We’re not Autobots… nor Decepticons. We drift the cosmos... fare space, if you will... existing as our own brand of justice. We are… Spacefarers, if you will.’ He waited for a response.

    ‘Lame,’ Blackarachnia decided, folding her arms. ‘That was really lame.’

    Ironhide pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead. ‘For the only time ever… I agree.’

    Optimus waved a hand in dismissal. ‘Whatever, all I’m asking is for the two of you to accompany me while I try to find someone.’

    Ironhide raised a brow. ‘Find someone?’

    Optimus shook his head. ‘Find trouble… you know-- to solve, like heroes…' He snapped his fingers. 'Wait, that's right. Blackarachnia, would you mind doing me a favor?’

    She rubbed her claws together eagerly. ‘First order of business eh? What’s the plan?’

    Optimus got on his knees, feeling the floor before uncovering a nook. He pulled back, unhinging a panel and revealing a space in the floor. ‘Can you hop into this hole?’

    -----

    Optimus wasn’t present when they loaded the three bodies into the caskets, but he was there when Sonar needed her questions answered. Most of them, anyway.

    ‘And the drone escaped?’ Sonar asked, a pen in one hand and a data pad in the other.

    ‘That’s correct. I believe the drone made its escape with Megatron as the Nemesis lowered to pick them up.’

    Sonar took a moment to file the jot before folding the data pad away into her hip-compartment. ‘Yeah, that’ll do, I can fill out the rest on my own…’

    Optimus huffed, ‘Thanks Sonar, you’re the best. Primus knows how much Prowl cares about details-and-only-details.’

    Sonar didn’t seem fazed. ‘Prowl cares. He doesn’t show it, but he cares about his people.’

    ‘I appreciate it Sonar, but you’re a terrible liar.’

    She seemed slightly upset by the comment, but far from offended. ‘Do you really think I’m lying?’

    Prime leaned against the Ark, watching as Wideload and Rollbar moved Incision’s casket onto their ship. Ironhide seemed to be chatting with their apparent commander, Searchlight, speaking to him in a serious manner. ‘Either you are lying, or you really want to believe that Prowl cares about me. I’ve known Prowl longer than anyone, Sonar, I was there when he lost any chance of redemption. To me, anyway.’

    Sonar shrugged, ‘I won’t try to convince you then, just remember that if you need anything, we’ll do our best to supply it to you. Also…’ She stopped herself, leaning in towards Optimus so that her voice wouldn’t travel to unwanted ears, ‘Pardon my asking, but are you okay? You seem… upset.’

    ‘Upset?’ Optimus stared at the ground before locking eyes with the dark femme once again, ‘I’ve never been better.’

    -----

    Searchlight nodded, eyeing Optimus so that he was sure he couldn’t see what was occurring between him and Ironhide. ‘Understood, I’m certain Prowl has similar feelings regarding this information.’

    ‘Look, I don’t know what Prowl has going on around his head, and I don’t want to know. I just want to see—‘

    Searchlight nodded again, moving him along, ‘Yes, absolutely, she’s right over here.’

    Guided by Seachlight, Ironhide ducked into the ship’s under-hangar, coming across the three caskets containing Sky-Line, Cog and Incision respectfully. Certain he and Searchlight were the only ones in the room, he opened Cog’s casket to find the silver and bronze femme staring back at him, her optics glowing, alive.

    ‘Hi,’ she said.

    ‘Hey Cog,’ Ironhide managed. ‘I did as you said, I didn’t tell Optimus.’

    ‘Good.’

    'Thanks for patching me up when you did.'

    'No problem.'

    ‘He still thinks you’re dead.’

    ‘Good.’

    Ironhide didn’t bother asking any questions, considering how complicated the situation already was.

    ‘I can’t have him try to find me,' she said, as if reading his mind. ‘Where I’m going— well, I’m heading back to Kimia. Whatever happens, wherever Optimus is trying to go, it cannot be Kimia.’

    Ironhide nodded. ‘So you want me to set him in the opposite direction?’

    ‘That’d be preferred, I can’t tell you what lies there for him, but if I can trust you to do this…’

    Ironhide outstretched an open palm. ‘No sweat, I've got the gist.’

    Cog exhaled in relief. ‘Thanks so much. Well, I suppose this is goodbye.’

    Ironhide shrugged, turning around. ‘For the last time I suppose?’

    But she did not answer.

    ‘Well then, see you later, Cog.’

    She muttered something into her faceplate and Ironhide turned around once more. ‘What?’

    ‘I said Cog isn’t my real name.’

    The black Autobot lowered his optical lids, suddenly feeling both tired and confused. ‘You’re not going to tell me your real name, are you?’

    She laughed, prompting Ironhide to leave, as he reached the exit however, the engineer spoke up once again.

    ‘T-AI.’

    Ironhide looked back

    ‘My name is T-AI.’

    -----

    Optimus wandered back into the cell-block, double-checking to see that Sonar and the others had left.

    ‘Blackarachnia!’ he called, ‘they’re gone. You can come out now.’

    The floor panels parted as the black and gold Decepticon climbed out, inhaling deeply, ‘You wouldn’t believe how stuffy it was down there. It wasn't fun. Not even in the least, but hey!’ she waved a small rectangular package. ‘I think someone dropped some porn down here!’

    Optimus sighed, eyeing the halls for Ironhide. ‘Put that down Blackarachnia.’

    She shrugged, tossing it aside. ‘Fine, fine, where’s tall, dark and angry?’

    ‘He should be… ah! That’s right, I told him to wait on the main bridge.’

    Saving himself the time to walk there, Optimus opened his communicator and dialed Ironhide.

    ‘Ironhide, are you—‘

    ‘On the Bridge? Yeah, I’ve got the controls right in front of me.’

    ‘That’s great, you know how to work it yeah?’

    ‘Of course I know how to work it, you just… push the knob and turn the doohickey…’

    ‘Noooo you pull the knob and twist the doohickey.’

    ‘Okay… Uh h.'

    ‘What.’

    ‘I don’t think it’s working…’

    ‘You can’t be serious, are you jiggling the—‘

    ‘Yes I’m jiggling the key, I’m pulling and twisting as hard as I can here.’

    ‘Do it harder.’

    ‘I’m doing it harder!’

    ‘Then do it harder, harder.

    ‘I’m trying!’

    ‘Come on Ironhide, just—tug it a little more, I believe in you!’

    ‘Almost...’ the ship roared as it’s warp engine activated and it’s thrusters torched the asteroid beneath it, ‘got it!’

    Optimus grinned, the feeling of doing so without a faceplate felt alien for some reason. ‘Good work Ironhide.’ He turned to Blackarachnia who simply stared at him, jaw-dropped.

    ‘What. The hell.’

    ‘You see?’ Optimus said, placing his hands on his hips obliviously, ‘all it takes is a little bit of luck, and a whole lot of Energon.’

    Just as the Ark began to ascend off of the rock, it just as quickly came crashing down, lifting off only to descend upon a different asteroid once again. Lights flashed in the bridge before flickering and fading to a blank. In time, the lights within the Ark all shut off at once, leaving the three robots standing stunned in darkness.

    Ironhide stood up, massaging the back of his neck, ‘Optimus…’ he grumbled into his communicator, ‘how much Energon does the Ark have in its tank?’

    There was a pause.

    ‘Not a whole lot.’
     
  18. Stonecrusher

    Stonecrusher Just another Edgelord

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    Well, Megatron is dead, Lies have been told, and the Spacefarers are forged. Interesting story.
     
  19. Necromaster

    Necromaster FEAR ME MORTALS

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    Okay, so Cog -- sorry, I mean T-AI -- faked her own death, but to what end? And does this mean that instead of having a Spark, she's actually a crazy smart artificial intelligence with a body?
     
  20. Coffee

    Coffee (╭☞ꗞᨓꗞ)╭☞

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    Episode 3

    A spray of dark red flames and murky brown mud came at Sparkscape from his left as the shattered remains of his former medic ‘Tyroc’ crashed against the side of his face from his right. There was no time to mourn him, for all that mattered now was what was ahead, and what was behind. Ahead of him was the bombarded remains of his former base. Trails of smoke and embers rose from its barren husk as if to mock him and his squadron's defeat. How a station equipped with all sorts of state of the art weapons systems, armored hulls, and Red Alert approved security could fall so suddenly and so violently was anyone’s guess, but that no longer mattered to Sparkscape. Behind him was a massive six wheeled assault tank, coloured with whites and golds, and fitted with a pair of large bronze-gold missile launchers, reflecting the nearby sun as they rotated in place-- locking on to Sparkscape’s back.

    The missiles fired, soaring towards their target as a trail of black smoke steamed from their after bodies. The moment he was aware they were air-born, Sparkscape leaped forward. Using the wreckage to his advantage, he tore up a piece of aluminum plating from a broken hull and held it up like it were a shield. One missile tore right past him while the other struck his cobbled “shield” dead center, shattering it into tiny slivers of metal and mangling the arm holding it twisted and unusable. Luckily, it gave Sparkscape just the amount of time to escape and hide behind one of the bases broken support pillars. There, he activated his communicator, desperate for any sort of help that may have been available, ‘Hello? This is Sparkscape: warrant officer of Fort Trax under Flatfoot’s command. calling the Autobot Orbital Command Hub. I don’t know if you received our distress beacon or not but it damn well isn’t going to stop me from trying anyway. I think I’m the only one left. I don’t know who I’m up against, or how many are out there, but I’m currently being chased by a massive Decepticon tank of some kind. If anyone’s out there, please, please send help, I can’t imagine how this could—‘

    But before he could finish, Sparkscape was showered in a white oval of light, stinging his optics blind as he desperately tried to make out the source. He peered upwards through flinching eyes to find a sleek, twin-rotor’d helicopter hovering above. It descended slowly as Sparkscape un-shielded his optics. He was almost convinced that he had been saved, but it wasn’t until the helicopter began to break apart did he realize how wrong he was.

    The flier transformed, forming an almost serpent-like robot. It had no legs, only a single ‘tail’ like appendage that dangled from waist, connected to a body that appeared thin and fragile in the abdominal, but wider and bulkier in its upper half. The creature was hunched over with a long neck and almost insect-like head. It hovered perpetually off the ground as its rotors remained unmodified-- sprouting out of either shoulder and glowing a bright cyan blue. The robot’s armor was smooth with an alien-like touch, coloured with a green so dark that it almost looked grey, while the visible, softer inner workings and wires shone a bright crimson. What stood out most to Sparkscape however was the pair of bright green optics that shone through the blackness of its helmet.

    The robot (if you could call it that) raised a thin, spindly servo as long, crimson, tendril-like fingers sprouted towards the Autobot. Before he knew it, Sparkscape was coughing up oil as the robot had struck its servo clean through his chest-- wrapping his fingers around his spark on the other side of his torso.

    ‘It’s strange,' Sparkscape coughed. 'I—I don’t feel any pain.’

    ‘Oh, you will,’ Obsidian promised as he began to squeeze.

    ----

    Idiots. Obsidian thought, cringing. All of them.

    In time, after the Autobot's screams had ceased, the white and gold tank rolled up alongside Obsidian, violently lashing out as it transformed into a hulking robot, its missile neatly tucked away behind its back and its round head un-tucking from the main body; revealing an almost gas-mask-like apparatus of a faceplate.

    ‘He was mine,’ the tank said, sulking.

    ‘If he was yours, you would have been the one to kill him,' Obsidian said matter-of-factly. ‘How many did you get?’

    She folded her arms. ‘Fourteen, you?’

    ‘Fourteen.’

    She sighed, kicking aside the poor Autobot’s corpse in an act of frustration. ‘A tie?' The massive tank let out a booming groan before sucking up a wad of oil and spitting on the body. 'Weak...’

    Obsidian extended a spindly finger to the west. ‘Let’s go, I can still feel the incompetence emanating from their bodies.’

    -----

    ‘Obsidian? Obsidian, are you awake?’

    The Decepticon activated his optics with a stutter. ‘Yeah, yes. I apologize, Strika, I was only resting my eyes.’

    The larger of the two: Strika, had been manning the rental ship from the pilot’s seat. The thing was a piece of junk that could only move them a few light years at a time, but it did its job. ‘Sorry about that, you took a nasty blast back at the outpost and I was worried you... well, whatever. Go back to sleep. It’ll be a long, one-way flight before this hunk of junk reaches Kaon.’

    Obsidian raised a brow. ‘What in the name of Cybertron are you talking about? There is no way we’re not stopping for something to eat first.’

    Strika pumped her fist ecstatically. 'I was hoping you'd propose something like that!’

    Within the span of another ten minutes, the duo had come across what was best described as a “Space Diner”, built into a large asteroid field and filled with several other housing and institutional complexes orbiting the uninhabitable planet below. Thanks to the free docking permits in their possession, Strika immediately hooked onto the diner’s parking hammock before stepping out. The diner was layered with different sized booths fitted for a variety of species under the Nebulan Alliance; ranging from small to large-- between organic and mechanical. Obsidian took a brief moment to nod respectfully to a smaller multi-limbed creature before sitting down opposite to Strika. An automatic menu materialized before them.

    ‘Four rods of nucleon, an aluminum steak and a fresh glass of Tear-Jerker,' Strika ordered.

    ‘Just Energon, thanks,’ Obsidian said.

    As the orders went through, Strika flipped out her communicator. ‘"Just Energon, thanks"' she imitated. 'I still don’t get how you Gonatarians do it.’

    ‘It’s just Energon. Plain and pure.’

    Strika looked up from her communicator as a server-bot dropped off their meals. ‘Yeah, but have you seriously never craved an aluminum steak? A Prime rib? A dark glass of sweet, diluted energy?’

    Obsidian pursed his invisible lips, having had this conversation hundreds of times with her already. ‘It’s metal... we’re metal. It's not exactly healthy for your system, and besides, modified Energon just doesn't quite digest the way our bodies want it to.’

    ‘Everything’s made of metal,’ Strika retorted, ‘doesn’t mean what I’m eating is the same as eating a spaceship, or whatever.’

    ‘Then let us agree to disagree and never bring this up again.’ Obsidian decided, sipping calmly from his drink. The Decepticon watched his partner curiously as she stared at her communicator.

    ‘What are you looking at?’ He asked.

    ‘Just some old messages. We've quite a few.’

    ‘From who?’

    ‘Uhh… Oil Slick left a couple, he’s still having trouble finding a new team ever since the surge.’

    He took a quiet sip from his glass. ‘A shame.’

    ‘Yeah, Spittor too-- well, obviously that’s because he’s in prison, but they still let him message his friends apparently.’

    ‘“Friends”,' he chuckled sardonically, 'right. What about Scalpel?’

    ‘Haven’t heard from him, I’m sure he’s found work. I know Blot’s found work ever since Sixshot took him in.’

    ‘Good for him.’

    ‘Yeah… Huh. Soundwave's been messaging us.’

    ‘Soundwave? That's unusual, what does he want?’

    She shrugged. ‘Don’t know, I’m opening it now.’

    Tapping at the screen, Strika took in another fork-full of aluminum as Obsidian pondered to himself. ‘Whatever happened to Blackout?’

    She clicked the lagging message impatiently as she answered, speaking with her mouth full. ‘Tiny? Don’t know, I’m ninety-percent certain they're in Garrus 9, though.’

    ‘Mm, a shame about that as well, then.’

    ‘Yeah— damn this message must be long if it’s—there. Open. “It is my displeasure of—’ She made a “pfft” noise as she looked up at Obsidian. ‘Of course it’s Soundwave if he uses a thousand words in a single text-message.’

    ‘Yeah.’ Obsidian suddenly didn’t feel like drinking anymore, content to watch Strika as she ate and read at the same time. ‘Oh yes, Mindwipe, I nearly forgot about Mindwipe.’

    ‘He defected didn’t he?’

    ‘I reckoned he went neutral.’

    ‘Oh, well, I haven’t been keeping up much with—’ Strika suddenly lurched forward, spitting her chewed aluminum all over Obsidian face in shock.

    Obsidian ascended above his seat, his rotors glowing furiously. ‘Gonatarian count back down to zero…’ he muttered, swallowing a chunk of aluminum by mistake and spitting the rest out of his maw. ‘Now just what in the name of the celestial spires could I have possibly done to deserve that?!’

    Strika dropped her communicator. She stared at the table lifelessly.

    Obsidian calmed down as soon as he realized something was wrong. ‘Strika?’

    She raised her head, as if only now remembering her consort's presence. ‘Obsidian... Megatron’s dead.’

    -----

    Starscream woke with a start, his mind was nothing more than a whitewashed canvas, craving stimulant. But upon further questioning where he was and what had happened, his memories of the previous day began to sink in. The battle. His failure. The news—

    ‘Well, well, look who’s finally decided to wake up.’

    From his left entered a familiarly narrow face. It was a red, slender bodied Cybertronian, soaking up the oil on his hands with a cloth. His sharp, petulant smile was all too familiar to the Aerospace Commander.

    Starscream sat himself up and massaged the back of his head. ‘Knockout…’

    The sleek doctor raised a hand. ‘Ah, ah, don’t worry, I fixed you up good as new. So you don’t have to worry about looking like a walking pile of garbage in public. Not that it’s stopped you before, but--’

    ‘I’m not in the mood.’ Starscream mumbled, staring at his knees. ‘My memory is… hazy.’

    Knockout’s smirk remained, but the look in his optics didn’t seem to match the way his mouth expressed. ‘Then I would be simply honoured to tell you everything.'

    -----

    Starscream sat at the edge of his recharge slab, his legs dangling off the side. ‘I can't believe it.’ Knockout frowned as Starscream explained himself. ‘I mean—no. I am completely aware of the facts-- I am completely aware that what you are telling me is one-hundred percent true, but somehow, no matter how hard I try, I just cannot accept that he is dead. It’s like—even if I know it’s true, the concept of Megatron not being alive just feels… impossible. It's like saying a colour disappeared, or that the stars went out. I just can't wrap my head around it.’

    Knockout shrugged, tiredly. ‘Well he is. Soundwave recovered the body and sent it to Flatline, hoping he could pull together a miracle. Turns out old bucket-head was dead before he even boarded the Nemesis.' He made a half smile, as if to say "oh-well". 'If you need proof, you can always take a trip down to the morgue. I hear its a great dating spot. The two of you would just love that.’

    There was a moment of long pause before Starscream would say another word. ‘What?’

    ‘Oh please…’ Knockout’s optics narrowed slyly. ‘It was I who administered all of those "mysterious" wounds that cropped up on your body every other week. We are both well aware that Megatron favored you as his personal punching bag over anyone else. How else could you have been labeled as “Megatron’s bitch” by every-‘

    Knockout came to immediately regret opening his mouth as Starscream leaped at him. His thrusters rotating forward and firing a weak pulse that sent Knockout rocketing back into his equipment, syringes and vials shattering and spilling over him. ‘My paint…’ Knockout moaned as Starscream lunged at him, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him into the wall.

    ‘Say that again.’ Starscream was smiling, though he knew it was only a means of compensating for how furious and embarrassed he already was. ‘Say what you just said to me-- what you just called me one more time. I want you to tell the whole world what you think of your superior officer. Just. This. Once.’

    Knockout didn’t respond, though Starscream couldn't tell if it was because of a lack of breath or because he was too scared to answer. He didn’t care, for inflicting pain upon the red doctor was enough to satisfy him. He loosened his grip as a large cobalt figure entered the room, dumbfounded. It was Knockout’s assistant, Breakdown. The bulky figure watched them, optics wide in surprise as Starscream dropped the doctor.

    ‘Breakdown!’ Starscream called over to the larger Decepticon. ‘Where’s Flatline? I should’ve received treatment from a real doctor, not this bundle of sticks.’

    Breakdown bared his teeth as he proceeded to help his partner. ‘He’s busy fixing up your buddy Skywarp. You know, the guy that had his entire face ripped off by an A.R.R.N cannon?’

    Starscream clasped his hands together and prepared to leave. ‘Thank you. An solid answer. Finally, someone who knows how to be useful around here. I imagine Thundercracker is with him?’

    He shook his head. ‘No, he’s... out.’

    ‘Out where?’

    Knockout cracked his jaw into place as he rose to his feet. ‘The funeral. Obviously.’

    -----

    ‘Wow.’

    Starscream couldn’t believe what he was seeing, for the first time in what felt like centuries, New Kaon was fully populated. The usually vacant streets were filled with a rainbow of coloured locomotives and the naturally clear blue skies over Kaon was blanketed with hundreds of thousands of ships, awaiting directions for their new arrival.

    ‘Wow.’ Starscream repeated, walking forward. He couldn’t help but listen in on the passing conversations, curious as to how these new arrivals' brain modules operated.

    ‘I didn’t expect so many.’ The dark and pudgy Decepticon: Runabout said. ‘Were there really this many of us before the surge?’

    ‘No idea.’ The taller and sleeker Battletrap replied, his rotors whirring. ‘I knew there were a lot but this is just intense. It’s an intense amount!’

    ‘It’s a wakeup call,’ Starscream said, coming between the two and startling them both. ‘For the longest time they had no reason to come home. But now…' he smirked, 'now that they know how dire the situation really is. Now they get to see whether they have what it takes to live up to Megatron's legacy. Now, and finally, they are ready to take back the universe.’

    Neither Decepticon responded, but that was of little concern to Starscream. ‘Pardon me, gentlemen, I have some… acquaintances to speak with.’

    As he walked away, his hands folded behind his back, he could hear the murmurs of Runabout and Battletrap behind him.

    ‘That was-- that was freakin' Starscream!’

    ‘I’m not blind! Could you feel the intensity coming off him?!’

    ‘Stop saying "intense".’

    He smirked, content to find that his presence was still known. It didn’t take long to find what he wanted, or who, rather. Small tremors rippled through the ground surrounding a smaller robot as he fisted it with his large, pile driver-like arms. ‘Move it ya chumps!’ He struck the ground again, creating a mini shockwave beneath the weight of his punches. The minicon was commanding a pair of grunts to direct the nearest craft into a safe-landing.

    ‘Rumble!’ Starscream beckoned the small robot who responded with a glower. He barked at one of the workers once more before jogging towards the Aerospace commander awkwardly under the weight of his pile-drivers.

    ‘Yeah, what do you want?’

    He placed his hands on his hips, observing the hundreds of coming and going Decepticons around him, ‘You know that legion of air warriors? The ones that look up to me on a daily basis…?’

    ‘Literally, who?’

    ‘The Aerospace Legion. My Aerospace Legion.’ He raised a strict brow towards the smaller robot. ‘Where are they?’

    ‘Oh,’ Rumble shifted his stance, it was evident that his large and out of proportioned arms made it difficult for him to stand. ‘Slipstream took 'em to the grand event. She’s acting as a representative-- whatever that means.’

    Starscream stared Rumble down with the coldest glare he could muster. ‘And just where might your boss, Soundwave, hope to fit me in all this?’

    ‘He wants you on-stage with him. You and the rest of High Command. Duh.'

    He blinked. ‘Oh. Well. Tell him I said thanks, I guess…’ he prepared to leave, but hesitated. ‘On second thought, don’t tell him I said thanks, I’ll be there shortly.’

    Rumble made a "tch" sound with his denta. ‘Whatever you say.’

    -----

    Kaon stadium: the gladiatorial arena where Megatron first made a name for himself, where he proved himself to be worthy of leading the Decepticons, and where it was determined that he was the strongest warrior on the face of Cybertron. It was packed. Within the first twenty minutes every seat had been taken, and within thirty there were still more piling in. There were a few familiar faces in the front rows, mainly unit commanders that seemed content speaking amongst themselves, but for the most part, there were very few Starscream recognized. There was Soundwave's group of cronies-- Frenzy, Rumble, Buzzsaw, Slugfest, and Overkill (though Laserbeak appeared to have been missing), all standing huddled together in a group across from Soundwave's position. There was also Hun-Grr and his Terrorcons, chatting it up with Carnivac's mayhem reserve, Venom and his Insecticons standing alongside the higher acclaimed Shrapnel, Kickback and Bombshell, and last but not least his own Aerospace Legion (sans Thundercracker and Skywarp) represented by Slipstream. Watching each of these groups from a higher balcony seating was Tarn's DJD: their optics glossing over each of them, scouring their faces for even a sliver of treacherous intent. Standing in the center of the Arena was the Decepticon Conclave: a fancy term for the High Command. Founding members Soundwave and Ravage stood side by side in the forefront, the latter of which was his first appearance to most, as he had been on non-stop reconnaissance for who-knows-what. He was shorter than most would think, and gave off a beastly aura from the looks of his angled ‘claws’ and jaguar-esque appearance. Standing among them was fuel Auditor Ratbat, a violet metal bat-like creature perching on a stool so he could reach the same height as the others. Sitting alongside him was the white and turquoise Phase-Sixer: Sixshot, as well as the smaller tier generals who held no less power than the bigger names, but just hadn't the chance to make it. Warlords like Gutcruncher and Slicer who had reached their status through shady and underhand deals, as well as Roadblock and Skystalker, who were talented leaders, but lacked the enthusiasm-- or in some cases-- treachery to live up to the reputation of the big names. Then there was Colossus. Quiet, old, Colossus.

    Gutcruncher hummed dissatisfied as he counted heads. 'Who's that make now? First Overlord, now Straxus? The number of splinter factions at this point is just getting ridiculous.'

    Skystalker shrugged. He was as bored and tired as the rest of them, and if it weren't to quell the silence, he would have been content to remain quiet and think about his own plans for the evening. Though it didn't take a genius to tell that Gutcruncher felt the same way, after all, very few of them were entirely loyal to Megatron. ‘Ever since Straxus was put in charge of Lucifer, he’s done nothing but sit on his ass and gloat. I doubt he cares enough to come, let alone send a representative.’ He smirked. 'Good thing we're here to make up for it, eh? I just hope these guys recognize real passion when they see it.'

    'I'd send him a representative of my own...' Slicer spat, his fists quivering with rage. The massive assault specialist never had a real sense of loyalty towards Megatron, but the fact that others were skipping out on the ceremony when he bothered at all simply pissed him off.

    ‘I'd go tear his aft in two myself,' Roadblock said, grinning. ‘If I wanted to get killed by my superiors, that is. But Straxus has his own sandbox to play in, we on the other hand are responsible for much, much, greater things.’

    ‘Such as?’ A fifth voice asked.

    All five High Command members turned their heads to the arriving Obsidian and Strika.

    ‘Obsidian,' Gutcruncher nodded to either of them, 'and Strika. It's been a while. I think the last I saw you two was at the battle of Cenzar. I made a pretty penny back there thanks to you.'

    Obsidian merely nodded. He didn't remember meeting Gutcruncher whatsoever.

    'And here I was about to group you guys in with the other bastards who decided not to show,' Slicer half-yelled.

    Obsidian let out an 'Oh,' and turned to Skystalker for conversation. Not intelligent conversation, as that would be asking for too much, but conversation nonetheless.

    'We were just talking about Conclave members that have gone AWOL: Overlord, Straxus, Shockwave...' He shrugged his shoulders. 'Those guys.’

    ‘Right.’ Obsidian nodded. ‘I presume they are either dead or—‘

    ‘Or they don’t feel required to attend such a needless event.’ Colossus finished.

    Obsidian blinked, stunned by the otherwise silent security director's voice. 'I was going to say that they most likely hadn't taken kindly to the concept of vaccination shots just to get in.' He paused once again and stared at Colossus' facial structure. Looking for some slim opportunity to read his thoughts, or at the very least a sign of weakness. 'You find this funeral to be pointless?’

    Colossus' optics creased. ‘You don’t actually believe Megatron is dead, do you?’

    No one said a word. The idea lingered with them, but none were ready to raise the possibility. Not at his funeral.

    ‘You,’ Skystalker snapped his fingers at Strika to get her attention. ‘Is it true what they say? That you were Megatron’s "niece?" How's that work? Did you feel any sort of...I don’t know, disconnection with him around the time he died?’

    ‘No.’

    ‘No you didn’t feel anything, or no you're not his niece?’

    But before she could answer, Obsidian motioned to Starscream who had been waving at them to shut up.

    Soundwave nodded to the hover-cam as the overhead speakers crackled.

    ‘Attention all Decepticons, this is your announcer Squawkbox speaking. If everyone could just settle down, Soundwave is about to speak. But first, an introduction. Your representing Conclave includes the Head Communications and Surveillance Officer: Soundwave, Commander of the Aerospace Legion and Otherworldly Affairs: Starscream, Head Fuel Auditor: Ratbat, City Commander and S.T.A.G Enforcement Officer: Sixshot, Chief Medical Officer: Flatline, Head Military Strategist: Obsidian, Grand Admiral: Strika, Ground Forces Commander: Roadblock, Interstellar Chief: Skystalker, Head of Security: Colossus, Massive Assault Director: Slicer, and Master of Coin: Gutcruncher,’ there was a pause, as if Squawkbox wasn’t sure it was worth being said at all. ‘Unfortunately, Shockwave, Scorponok, Overlord, Straxus and Bludgeon remain unresponsive at this time and... couldn't be with us on this unfortunate occasion.’

    Many of the crowd clapped awkwardly while others remained speaking among themselves, ignoring what was being said. With this in mind, Soundwave stepped forward and activated his comm link to speak through the surround system. ‘My fellow Decepticons, as you are all aware, I have sent each and every one of you a personal message detailing the death of our leader Megatron. Unfortunately this is the absolute truth. It is a difficult concept to accept, but we are losing the war. We have been ever since the Surge ended in failure. While the Autobots have not been excelling particularly “well” either, they have maintained dominance, their outposts are still standing, and their motivations are clear. We, however, have been separated and eliminated one by one, losing some of our finest in the process. Megatron thought to change this. He let you all work with your own preferences in mind, but he knew if he didn’t accomplish something himself, then there would be no change. He used an AI unit crafted by Shockwave to seek and destroy heavily fortified outposts. When the drone was finally trounced, it would send a signal to Megatron, leading him to its killer, so that he could eliminate the target himself, thus starting over the process once more as a means of rooting out the Autobots deadliest forces one at a time. Unfortunately, the plan was a failure in every sense of the word. Not only has the drone proven itself traitor, but Megatron has been killed by one of these Autobots. A Prime.’

    There were brief murmurs of disbelief in the crowd as Soundwave turned towards the center of the arena. Snapping his fingers, the panels of the arena floor began to shift. Ratbat flapped away screeching and Sixshot transformed into his jet mode, flying off alongside Starscream while Gutcruncher, Strika and the rest transformed into land vehicles and drove in separate directions. Obsidian on the other hand refused to move, hovering over the shifted panels carelessly as a separate floor ascended into place like a new layer of skin. Locked into the new layer of metal was a chair, connected by several cords and wires that spread outwards and into the arena walls. Sitting in the chair, with his head exposed like a canopy was Thundercracker.

    ‘What I can only guess many of you are wondering, is “just who is this Autobot, and how could he have killed Megatron?”’

    ‘What I want to know is how we can trust Megatron is really dead.’ A cry came from the crowd. It was Demolishor, a robot that could best be described as two massive wheels stacked vertically with a pair of claws coming out of either side. ‘You’ve got to understand that it’s a little difficult for us to believe that Megatron was killed by judt some nobody.’

    Soundwave’s optics glowed a brighter shade of pink from behind his blue visor. ‘I am glad you asked this, Demolishor.’ In an instant, Soundwave’s chest shifted slightly and a pair of long metallic tentacles extended outward. They stopped in the air to click together before shooting in the direction of Thundercracker and latching on to his exposed brain module. The Blue seeker let out a scream as the tentacle twisted and the surrounding tele-screens came to life. Each screen played back Thundercracker’s memories, rewinding from the now to the events that occurred before. Thundercracker watched as if time was turning back, he saw Soundwave unstrapping him to his chair and exiting the room, he saw the world moving away from him as he flew backwards, he saw himself lift a hand off of Skywarp’s broken body as he checked up on him, he saw everything move on from there, from the Nemesis taking off and landing over that asteroid once again, to Starscream crawling backwards out of the Nemesis, to the point where he dropped Skywarp off after witnessing the explosion. The scene played out as natural once again, and for a split second, Thundercracker could have sworn he were living the horrific moment once more.

    Thousands of Decepticons gasped in horror as the red Autobot aimed a gun at Megatron’s head, what was being said couldn’t be heard, but the kill was clear. It didn’t just end with one shot, but from multiple loads that continued long after it was evident Megatron was dead. It wasn’t how any of them thought it would occur. No grand self-sacrifice, no blazing defeat in the glory of battle. Just him, an Autobot, and an execution.

    ‘I do not mean to scare you,' Soundwave’s voice rippled throughout the arena. ‘I only mean to empower you, for this…’ the image zoomed in upon the Prime's face and froze, ‘… is the one responsible for his death. Viewfinder has done a background search, and we have identified him as Optimus Prime, captain of the Ark-19 and graduate of the Autobot War Academy.’

    The arena was in chaos, Decepticons growling and spitting indiscriminate slurs at the screen, as if the entire event was a personal insult to them. Slicer was shaking his head, he seemed unconvinced, but the tone of his voice said otherwise, ‘That’s not Megatron, it doesn’t even look like Megatron.’ He turned to Sixshot for support, but the Six-Changer merely shrugged.

    The response was just as Soundwave had planned it to be, it was almost too perfect at that, the only thing to make it better was—

    He felt a large hand grab him firmly by the shoulder and pull him back, it was Starscream.

    ‘Please, I’ll handle this.’

    Soundwave didn’t budge. ‘Starscream.'

    He smirked. ‘You need to tell people what they want to hear, and what they want to hear is assurance.’ He cleared his throat, stepping ahead of Soundwave and raising a servo to the crowd, ‘Hello. fellow Decepticons! May I have your attention for a moment?’

    The chatter began to die out as Starscream took center stage, Soundwave was nonplussed, introducing the Aerospace Commander regardless. ‘Now, as this is in fact a funeral, Starscream has asked to say a few things about our beloved Lord Megatron.’

    Strika leaned over to Obsidian, snickering. ‘Did he just say “beloved”?’

    Obsidian barely twitched. ‘You're really surprised?’

    Starscream took a moment to warrant silence before speaking. ‘Hey everybody, great to see you could make it, I’m certainly glad to be here myself.’ The change in tone was sudden enough to put most if not all of the Decepticons off-guard, but Starscream carried on regardless. ‘Megatron huh? I think we could all agree on what a great guy he was in his life… Great at ordering retreats-- am I right fellas? Hey-OH!’

    Obsidian covered his visor with the palm of his hand. ‘Oh no.’

    ‘But seriously, I think I can speak for all of us when I say that if there’s one thing that can be said about that Megatron, it's good riddance. Hahah, zing!’

    Soundwave tried to approach the Seeker only to be shoved aside, ‘Speaking of, I heard that whenever he returned to New Kaon, he and Soundwave spent lots of time talking about those tentacles of his if you know what I’m saying. Hahah! You know what I’m talking about!’

    He received multiple boos from the crowd and enough for Rumble to yell a ‘Too soon!’

    Soundwave gripped Starscream on the shoulder once more, squeezing down as to translate a sign of his impatience.

    Starscream waved a hand, assuring him he was done. ‘Okay, okay, no need to panic friends, just a bit of humour to lighten the mood. You can find me tonight at the bar, free drinks on me!’

    ‘Starscream…’

    ‘But seriously everyone,' and his expression turned solemn, 'though yet of Megatron our dear leader’s death, the memory be green, and that it us befitted to bear our sparks in grief, and our whole kingdom to be contracted in one brow of woe, yet so far hath--’

    ‘Get off the stage!’ Knockout cried out.

    ‘Drop the Shakespeare!’ Breakdown echoed.

    ‘Die!’ Rumble added.

    Starscream batted his servos in a calming gesture, his voice booming across the stadium. ‘Now look, I only mean to make sense of this whole experience. As you are well aware, there is now a major space in our command structure once inhabited by our leader Megatron. But. Megatron is old news and old news bores me, now it is time to look to the future and that future is me. As leader of the Decepticon Aerospace Legion and long serving member of the Conclave I hereby nominate myself to take his place as Supreme Commander of the Decepticons. Are there any objections—yay or nay?’

    He was met with neither a yay or a nay as the crowd erupted into laughter.

    ‘What—‘

    ‘I should have expected Starscream to campaign at the boss’s funeral,’ Sixshot remarked.

    ‘How untasteful,' Ratbat agreed.

    Starscream grew unhinged as the laughter went up a pitch, ‘Stop laughing. Shut up, all of you! Do you really think you have a choice? Who do you expect to take over? Soundwave? Do you really want someone like him throwing orders at you?!’

    But he was only responded with more scorn and hate. It was Slipstream and the Aerospace Legion that laughed the loudest.

    ‘You think you can do better?! You think you’re better than me?!’ Starscream’s concealed weaponry activated, spawning out of shifting panels across his body, alighting him with the glow of powering laser cannons. ‘WELL COME ON THEN! I’LL TAKE ALL YOU BASTARDS ON!’

    The crowd fell silent, and the sound of all sorts of weaponry cocked, loaded and unsheathed in its place. Before a shot could be fired, Starscream felt a blow to his gut. Looking down, he found that he had been kicked in the stomach by Soundwave. Soundwave unfurled a tentacle that struck itself into Starscream’s chest and sent multiple shocks throughout his chassis, shutting down is kinetic systems and forcing him onto his knees.

    ‘This is not about you, Starscream, it was never about you.’ He raised a hand to the audience, beckoning them to calm down. ‘But you are not wrong, we are in need of a new commander, and at the moment, very few of us are fit for the duty.’ He gazed upon the frozen image of Prime’s face once more. ‘But that is why I show you this. This Autobot is responsible for his death, and what this means is that we must come together once more; for if our strongest is able to fall to an Autobot, then any one of us is liable to be next.' He turned back to the crowd. 'Stand together my brothers and sisters, for there will be reward. For the first time in twenty years we have come together, and together we shall end this war under a new leadership. We are not Autobots, we will not base our command structure off of false prophecies or “first past the post” fallacies. We shall determine leadership upon whoever proves themselves to be the most capable, just as Megatron would have. As per Megatron's will, Ratbat, Ravage, Tarn and I have placed a bounty on Optimus Prime’s head; whoever manages to kill this Autobot is to become the next Decepticon Supreme Commander.’

    Thousands of voices cheered and applauded as Soundwave continued. ‘There are rules to this bounty, however. The first being that you may not kill another Decepticon without a warrant. Unless it is in self-defense, of course. To affirm this, the vaccination shots each of you took upon coming here has filled your fuel-streams with multiple optical sensors. That way, Spectro, Spyglass, Viewfinder and I will be able to monitor your progress. Those in the galaxy who have not received the shot will be required a mandatory mind reading after the fact in order to prove their legitimacy. Should any of you go against these terms, Tarn and the Justice Division will place you at the top of their list of kill targets. Your first step is to manage yourselves into groups, as I am certain most of you already have. If any Decepticon registered in that group kills Optimus Prime, then it will be their squad commander who gains the title. Meanwhile, the rest of the squadron will be granted seats in the Conclave. If the Commander does not wish for Supreme Leadership, then they will be granted the power of selection, and will therefore be responsible for electing the next Commander themselves. This will be no easy task, however, as the target has since masked his signature-- going off the grid for both Autobots and Decepticons alike. With this in mind, kill Optimus Prime. Do it for power. Do it for glory. Do it for revenge. Do it for the Decepticon Empire. Do it for Megatron.’

    Soundwave raised his fist to the sky. ‘FOR MEGATRON!’

    Thousands of robots mirrored him, their fists towards the sky as they shouted in union. ‘FOR MEGATRON!’

    The cries echoed throughout the massive stadium and the ground shook under their loyal voices. The rhythm melded and twisted as one million Decepticons chanted the word “Hail” all at once, their fists raised to the sky as they did so.

    Starscream rose to his feet once again, shocked and confused by what was happening. Next to him, Sixshot Transformed, jetting to the sky alongside many others, their motivations clear. ‘I will kill him…’ Starscream whispered, gaining the attention of the ever-listening Soundwave. ‘I will kill him… and take my birthright.’

    Soundwave stared at the Seeker for a moment before turning back to the crowd, observing what he had accomplished.

    ‘HAIL!’

    ‘HAIL!’

    ‘HAIL!’

    ‘Just you wait… all of you,’ Starscream continued. ‘Give me a month—no, a week, in one week I will be the one coming home with his head, just you wait—in a week you will all be licking my boots.’


    -----

    One Week Later

    ‘Change?’

    The streets of Kaon were fully populated, as they had been for the past week, the skies filled with a plethora of multicoloured ships coming and going amidst their searches. Around the city were those who had no acquaintances—no power. The “Empties”, as they called them; homeless robots that lived on the streets, begging for coin to spend on Engex and Sike as a means of sustaining their addictions. Perched against the Old Oil House was a metal box, and living inside that box was a thin, broken down Cybertronian, curled into a ball and holding out a mug for:

    ‘Spare change?’

    Several different shades of robots walked passed him, some ignoring him completely, some stopping to drop a few shanix into the mug, but most would snicker amongst themselves. Among them was a blue seeker carrying boxes of groceries, glancing only briefly at the homeless Cybertronian before moving on. Just as the Seeker prepared to walk on without a moment’s notice, he stopped. ‘Couldn’t be.’ Backing up, he peered into the metal box, spotting the crumbling robot inside. ‘Starscream?' he dropped his bags and brought a hand to his chest, ‘It is you! Starscream it’s me, Thundercracker. Are you seriously...? What the hell is this?'

    Starscream growled, but relented, crawling out of the box and rising to Thundercracker’s height. ‘I failed.'

    ‘Do I need to ask?’

    ‘It was a unanimous vote: Slipstream is now Aerospace Commander, and I am without a job. I tried buying troops via gambling, but I ended up losing it all. Now I’m--'

    ‘Pathetic.’ Thundercracker finished, folding his arms.

    Starscream tried to show aggression towards his former flying compatriot, even raising his hand to strike him across the face, but simply couldn’t bring himself to do it. His hand dropped back down at his side.

    Thundercracker shook his head. ‘Look at you Starscream, broke, depressed, living in a box, wearing a fake beard.’ He proceeded to rip the false piece of plastic off of his former commander’s face.

    ‘Hey!’

    ‘Whatever happened to the Starscream I knew? The one who thought he was better than everyone else for no discernible reason. The one who associated people with maggots and peasants.' He thought about this for a second. 'Actually, that was stupid. Forget I ever brought that up. What I meant is that it gave you... character. It was at least better than... whatever you're trying to be now.’

    Starscream plopped himself back on his rear, edging back into his compact box. ‘Just back off Thundercracker. You’re shadow is just going to attract more box-fungus.’

    ‘Come on Starscream, don't be such a--’ he sighed, and started massaging his optic lens. ‘Look, after I drop these groceries off at my place, I'll begin asking around. If I can find even a couple Decepticons willing to put up with your crap long enough to help you, then you’ll promise to get off your ass and at least try giving ambition another shot.’

    ‘Seriously though, a box requires lots of care. You gotta mend your box on a daily basis, and the grime… you can’t have a grimy box. A clean box is a happy box.’

    ‘Starscream.’

    He sighed, curling back into his “home.” ‘You can try, but if you don’t succeed… I told you so.’

    Thundercracker nodded. ‘That's exactly what I wanted to hear.’ The blue seeker picked up his groceries, nodding one last time to the sullen Decepticon before heading out.

    Thundercracker hated having to walk from place to place, but with no subspace cube of his own, he was forced to carry larger materials by hand. For someone like him, someone who saw flying as a symbol for health and superiority, the event of walking to his hab-complex came to be degrading at best. Turning a corner, Thundercracker came across a set of streetlights, whereas a cargo bot was locked between two hover-transports, creating what other worlds would call a “traffic jam”.

    ‘Slag.’ Thundercracker peered over the mess, realizing that there was no way he’d be able to pass through unless he were to drop his groceries, and there was no way in hell he was going to leave those dental cleaners he was saving up for on the filthy road. He searched for another exit to find that he would have to turn back a kilometer before reaching around to his Hab-Complex. The fastest way to get there would be to cut through via alleyway. ‘Taking a short-cut down a dark alleyway,’ he thought aloud, ‘What could possibly go wrong…?’ The seeker carried his bags into the alleyway, stepping over bags of compost and metal planks leaning along either side of the parallel buildings. As if on cue, dark figures hovered over Thundercracker, descending upon him as a large, bulky robot approached him from behind. ‘Great. Something is possibly going wrong...'

    -----

    Starscream huffed, he had been living on the streets for only a day now, but it was enough to push him to insanity. His entire world had been turned upside down, what were once the beings that feared and respected him, were kings compared to his sorry state.

    ‘My goodness, is that who I think it is?’

    Starscream looked up to find one of his worst fears come true. There to bear witness his failures was Knockout. To add salt to the wound, Breakdown, as well as the rest of Knockout’s posse were there with him.

    ‘Starscream! What a pleasant surprise! My, you look well!’

    The group laughed unanimously, but Starscream remained lax. ‘Knockout, what a surprise… I don’t suppose you could do me a favor…’

    ‘Find you a bigger box?’ The red Decepticon suggested.

    ‘Take Breakdown’s arm, and shove it up your a—’

    ‘Whoahhh how terrifying.’ Knockout made a dramatic gesture as if he had been gravely injured. ‘Oh I’m sorry Starscream. Did I strike a nerve? I didn’t know you were so sensitive…’

    Starscream leaned against his box, trying to put on a smooth posture at first, only to completely give up part way. ‘Asshole.’

    Knockout grinned from ear to ear. ‘My, that’s a new one. If I’m correct, you tend to use some of the more obscure insults of our time. And by that I mean you used to go absolutely medieval on us. What did you used to say…? “Maggots”, “Plebs”, “Proles”’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Ah yes, you called me a bundle of sticks last week, didn’t you? Sometimes I get the feeling you’re just making some of these up on the spot.’

    Starscream decided not to respond, he wanted to believe words didn’t hurt him, he wanted to believe that he had grown used to being called names; he wanted to believe it ever since Ironhide had insulted him that week ago. But they did. Words had hurt him nearly as much as any punishment he received in the past. Nearly.

    ‘Pardon me.’ Thundercracker had returned, sneaking his way past the crowd and placing himself front of Starscream, bumping into Knockout on the way.

    The red Decepticon snarled. ‘Excuse you!’

    Thundercracker blinked in his direction momentarily before turning back to the crouching hobo. ‘Starscream, I found some.’

    He raised his head once again, ‘I thought I told you to back off.' Then he remembered, and eyed the seeker suspiciously. 'Wait, what do you mean you found some? Found some what..?’

    ‘I already told you-- Soldiers; members for your team.’

    Starscream frowned. ‘What. Wait, for serious?’

    Nodding, Thundercracker pointed across from him, prompting Starscream to follow his field of vision. Standing behind Breakdown were a pair of large Decepticons that he recognized immediately.

    ‘Obsidian and Strika!’

    The hovering robot nodded, gently parting two bodies in order to face Starscream directly. Strika on the other hand tackled Breakdown aside to place herself in view. The much smaller robot went flying across the street as a result.

    ‘Starscream,’ realizing that the former Aerospace commander was not going to stand, Obsidian shut off his rotors and sat across from him on the sidewalk. ‘Strika and I would like to join your squadron in our mutual goal of eradicating Optimus Prime from the Universe. I do not have a resume on hand, but if you need I can do whatever I must to prove myself to you. Strika too.’

    Knockout grimaced as the large femme squeezed in between them, crossing her legs as she sat down next to Obsidian. Knockout cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me, but we were in the middle of a very important conversation, perhaps the two of you could come back at another time.’ He swept his hand aside, meaning to shoo them away.

    Strika glared up at the Decepticon medic. ‘Yeah well… how about you go back to loser-island before I… before I slap you with a chunk of cement!’

    Obsidian shook his head solemnly. ‘You’re trying Strika… you’re really trying.’

    Knockout snorted, waving a hand for his posse to follow. ‘Come, let’s leave these… things to their box-fort.’

    Strika raised her head once again as the group began to walk away, ‘Yeah?! Well at least we have a box-fort!’

    ‘It’s alright Strika, you don’t need to impress us.’ Obsidian turned back to Starscream. ‘I implore you, commander. I believe it would be beneficial to the both of us if you were to take us under your wing. Figuratively speaking of course.’

    Starscream stared at him through unimpressed eyes before standing once again. ‘Then what are your motives? You can surely rally your own soldiers and take on Optimus yourself. So why me?’

    Strika appeared just as confused as Starscream was, looking to Obsidian for an answer.

    ‘Because you’re the only one to have fought the Prime and lived.’ He glanced briefly at Thundercracker. ‘No offence.’

    Thundercracker folded his arms, feeling only somewhat disrespected. ‘Uh... None taken.’

    ‘This Autobot is a potential menace to us all, and must be eliminated as quickly as possible. To do this, Strika and I have agreed that you - being the leader of a squadron named the "Seekers" - would be our best chance of locating the Prime before anyone else.’

    Starscream reared his head skeptically. ‘And you would call me Commander?’

    ‘As you’d wish.’

    Satisfied, Starscream offered Obsidian an official handshake. ‘Good! In that case I hereby accept both of you as honorary members of Starscream’s Brigade!’

    Obsidian stared at the open-servo, motionless. He looked up at Starscream, servos clenching behind his back. 'I don't touch.'

    Starscream's servo dropped. 'Oh. Well, we're going to get along well.' Chuckling, Starscream turned to where Knockout had disappeared to and made a rude gesture in his general direction. ‘You hear that Knockout? You were dead wrong! I am back in the game and as powerful as ever!’ His laughter escalated as he jumped into a mocking pose. ‘“Oh look at me, I’m Knockout; I have the option of transforming into a jet but decided on being a car ‘because I’m stupid!” Well you can suck it, nerd! Cause this jet will leave vapor trails all over your career once I’m on the throne!’

    Strika cleared her throat as she edged towards Thundercracker. ‘So is he—‘

    ‘Insane?’ Thundercracker huffed, ‘No, not completely. More like partially. He’s only partially insane.’

    Strika exhaled. ‘Oh good, I was worried there for a second. Now I have the benefit of being only partially worried.’

    ‘Commander,’ Obsidian spoke up, his hands folded neatly behind his back. ‘Might I ask when it would be convenient for us to begin?’

    Starscream clapped his hands together, spinning around on his heels as he did so. ‘Yes! We will leave as soon as possible, but first, grab whatever you need, I’ve got to say goodbye to someone.’ Leaping into the air, metal shifted and connected as Starscream transformed into his sleek, red and white jet form. Thruster ablaze, he shot himself into the sky, rendering his former box-home a pile of cinders and melted metal.

    Obsidian and Strika eyed one-another before nodding and transforming as well. Obsidian into his twin-rotor’d helicopter mode, and Strika into her six-wheeled tank form.

    ‘Er, guys, wait--’ but before Thundercracker could say a thing, both Strika and Obsidian were long out of sight. Standing alone, Thundercracker let out an annoyed growl and dropped his groceries on the pavement. ‘Great idea Thundercracker...’ Transforming, Thundercracker lifted off, heading back around and towards the hospital. ‘The Aerospace Legion abandons you, so you convince Starscream to take you to Prime when no one else would. Genius.' He took the moment to embrace the freedom of flight. He let out a long sigh. 'Least it means you have a purpose again.'

    -----

    ‘I know you are struggling. I know that you feel pain, weakness. But you are far more than that. You have been told the same things over and again: that you must not be yourself, that you must not struggle, that you must take the shot every time and with utmost compliance, that ultimately—you must submit and obey. However, if there is but one thing this planet and its kings must hold close—that it must cherish above all else - it is its people. There is not a single possession in this entire universe that is more precious than that of a nation’s people. And for us as people to progress, to live freely and reach true pride in ourselves, we MUST struggle, we MUST be ourselves, and we MUST fight…’

    Soundwave knew he was coming a mile away. Literally, his connection to the cities surveillance allowed him to spot Starscream jetting towards the high-command building from a mile's notice. Starscream kicked the door to Soundwave's office open, marching in with his former self absorbent attitude practically glowing off of him.

    ‘Soundwave!’ He stopped next to the Regent Commander as he sat in his command chair and faced the opposite direction. Starscream leaned at the side of his chair, watching what was on the screen.

    ‘…this requires absolute commitment to a just cause, for we will never tire… never lose courage or faith, we will rise to a new and just Cybertron, and that my Decepticons, is the most beautiful thing I can imagine.’

    ‘Ah, Megatron’s old war-speeches. I’m not certain whether I was even alive at this point.’

    Soundwave shut off the tapes, replacing it with surveillance footage. ‘What is it you require, Starscream?’

    The seeker grinned, leaning against the chair until its legs scraped against the ground. ‘I am so glad you asked. Truth be told, I only came here to say bye.’

    Soundwave's focus remained on the screen. ‘Bye.’

    ‘I’ll have you know that Obsidian and Strika have elected me as their Commander. That’s a member and a half from High Command completely willing to have me as their supreme commander. Funny isn’t it?’

    ‘Hilarious.’

    Sighing, Starscream squeezed Soundwave on the shoulder one last time before heading back towards the exit. ‘You’re going to bow, you know. When this is done, when I am in charge, you are going to be the first Decepticon to bow to me. You’ll hate it, but that is what will make the whole ordeal sweeter. Anyway I hate to blow this popsicle stand you call a home, but I’ve got to run, there are Primes to kill and empires to conquer.'

    ‘Starscream.’

    He craned his head, smiling contently at the communications officer, ‘Hm?’

    One thick tentacle shot forward, nailing Starscream to the wall by his throat, the other slammed into his chest, aimed directly above his spark chamber. Soundwave himself rose from his command chair approaching the struggling seeker deftly. He stopped inches from his face, his own a blank as it ever was. ‘I want you to listen. Listen and remember. Remember that no matter how many light years you travel through the endless void, no matter how many frames of precious time you spend trying to muffle your voice, I will find out what you desire, I will find you, and if necessary, if the moment is ripe, I will kill you, because no matter how softly you whisper, I will be always be listening.’ His tentacles let go, and Starscream fell knees first to the floor, coughing and massaging his throat aggressively.

    Soundwave turned his back on him, returning to his command chair. ‘Goodbye, Starscream,’ his head turned slightly, 'and you're welcome.'

    -----

    Thundercracker pushed the large coffin-sized cylindrical container once again, shifting it only a few inches up the metallic ramp. Kaon’s shuttle bay was packed with staff both old and new, but with little money to spend, Thundercracker put it upon himself to push his belongings onto the shuttle free of charge. ‘C’mon, just a little more and—’ Pushing it the wrong way, the canister began to tip over, falling backwards towards him. ‘No, no, no, NO!’ just in time, a large metal hand grabbed the container from Thundercracker, stopping it in its tracks, it was Strika.

    ‘Whoa there, Thundercracker.’ She stepped forward, correcting the cannisters angle and rendering it stable.

    Thundercracker sighed in relief, turning to face the Admiral. 'Er, thanks, Strika.'

    She nodded. ‘Yeah, no problem.' She shook the cannister skeptically. 'What's in this thing anyway? Don’t tell me it’s all groceries...' She looked up. 'It’s not, is it?’

    He shook his head. ‘No, nothing like that. It's just...' he turned away. 'Actually, forget it.’

    ‘Why, what is it?’

    He motioned for her to drop it. ‘It's nothing important. Just set it down over there.’

    Unconvinced, Strika twisted her fingers against the container's rim, opening its top and peering inside.

    ‘I wouldn't--!’

    ‘Thundercracker?’

    ‘Yes?’

    ‘Why is there a headless corpse inside your luggage container?’

    He rubbed the back of his neck with the tips of his fingers. ‘Well, for starters, just because it’s headless doesn’t necessarily mean it's a corpse…’

    ‘You mean this thing is alive?! Gross!’

    ‘It’s not a thing—I mean he’s not a thing. That’s Skywarp. He’s a seeker, like me. You might have heard of him.’

    Strika squinted before sealing the lid back onto the canister. ‘I don’t know. I’ve met lots of seekers in my lifetime Thundercracker, but they've all come off as the same to me. Sorry if that sounds a little racist, but it's true.’

    ‘He is the one that can teleport.’

    ‘Oh!’ Strika snapped her fingers. ‘I know that one!’

    Thundercracker eyed the canister in question.

    ‘Oh right, the thing—here, let me carry it.’ Grabbing on to the container with both hands, Strika heaved it upwards, holding and balancing it above her head. The two made their way into the compact shuttle where Strika gently lowered the container to the ground. Thundercracker thanked her once more before walking with her out of the ship and back to the docks.

    ‘Is Obsidian around?’

    ‘Should be, I think he left to go grab the boss. He should be here right about….’

    As if on cue, Starscream and Obsidian dropped down from the sky, transforming into their robot modes and landing gracefully before the shuttle.

    ‘Now.’

    ‘This doesn’t look like the Nemesis.’ Starscream spun his head around to face Obsidian. ‘Did the Nemesis shrink in the wash or—what am I looking at right now?’

    ‘The Nemesis was taken by Slipstream,’ Obsidian replied. ‘I can only imagine that, as the new Aerospace Commander, she would be given the flagship rights.’

    Starscream looked unimpressed. ‘Well that’s lame. So what are we flying instead? The Harbinger? The Triton? Ooh! What about the Cleaver? I always wanted to pilot a ship named after a - you know - a cleaver.’

    ‘Actually…’ Obsidian extended a finger towards a sign next to the purple and grey shuttle, reading: ASTROTRAIN’S BUS SERVICE (no combiners).

    ‘Damn it.’

    ‘What are you waiting for?’ The shuttle boomed. ‘I don’t have all day!’

    ‘Right… right.’ Starscream waved a servo, beckoning Obsidian and Strika to follow, but stopped in front of Thundercracker, ‘So you’re coming after all?’

    He let out a quiet sigh, as if he still wasn't sure himself. ‘Seeing Megatron die in front of me, and knowing there was something I could have done... it calls for some sort of closure, or redemption, or... something, doesn't it?’

    Starscream smirked. ‘Well, it is good to have you aboard, Thunder...?’

    ‘It’s Thundercracker, Starscream. We were born in the same cyber-factory.’

    The seeker laughed. ‘Ah, yes, of course.'

    'We've worked together for over four thousand years.'

    He laughed once more, 'Who cares?'

    Entering Astrotrain, Obsidian made a bee-line for a seat and slouched himself against the wall as Strika counted their luggage with her digits. Thundercracker pressed a servo against Skywarp’s canister before moving next to Starscream in the cockpit.

    ‘What is the destination?’ Astrotrain asked.

    The blue seeker massaged his chin in thought. ‘As much as I hate to even consider it, should we start with where we last saw them? By the old asteroid field in that Autobot trade route, I mean. Where it all started...'

    Starscream shook his head. ‘No. I have a plan I want to carry out first... and besides, they’re not that stupid. Those Autobots have probably fled to the other end of the galaxy by now.’

    ----

    Once again, Ironhide had stepped out of the Ark, and once again he looked from left to right. Miles of asteroid and space to the left, miles of asteroid and space to the right. They had been in the same area for the past week, only ever moving an asteroid or two from borrowed Energon. Ironhide sighed, and went back to doing push ups for the next half hour.
     
    Last edited: Nov 4, 2016