Re-writing the entire Energon story. Back story? Use Armada television show. Any questions or comments, please add. They help motivate me  


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Prelude




“Do you understand the charges that have been placed upon your character?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand the punishment if these charges are proven correct?”

“Yes.”

“And what is your defense to these charges?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“You do realize that by pleading guilty you sentence yourself to destruction?”

“What kind of being would I be to plead a defense that is not accurate simply to spare my life from those who are blinded from the truth in front of them?”

“This ‘truth’ you speak of, continually, you do realize it is but one being’s perception? That others share a different perception of this knowledge you call a ‘truth’?”

“For others to believe the truth, many will have to die.”

“I would not suggest stating that in the trial.”

“Why? Is it to spare myself from a punishment that I am not deserving of anyways?”

“As much as I would love to follow in your foot steps as many have for the last few millions of years, Optimus Prime, unfortunately in the time we are in now, a time of peace, many believe your actions to be that of war-mongering, and this is why you now find yourself ready to face trial against the Cybertron Elders.”

Optimus Prime scowled at his ‘attorney.’

“I prepare for war because Unicron is still alive!” he shouted, slamming his fists on to the table. “The Cybertron Elders, the inhabitants of this planet, even you! You all believe the worst is over, that Unicron vanished and will never return! You weren’t there, you didn’t hear his last proclamation, you didn’t watch Galvatron be sucked up in to the vacuum of space Unicron created when he disappeared! We are far from over the danger, in fact, the danger is greater now than ever! We must prepare…”

The attorney, a smaller robot than Optimus Prime, slowly backed away from the former Autobot Commander. He slowly began to reach behind him for the silent alarm which would bring in a squadron of drone guards to subdue the prisoner.

“You are beyond my help,” admitted the attorney. “No one would volunteer to defend your case because you refuse to admit anything but guilt – and now I can see the impossible practice of your defense. You are on your own Optimus Prime, and may you rot in the scrap heap with the other war-mongers!”

The attorney reached out and hit the silent alarm and almost by reaction did the door slide open and three robotic sentry guards stormed in, covering Optimus Prime in null rays, disabling his circuits and causing him to fall over, stunned.

Optimus Prime’s senses went dead as he felt his body being lifted up by the guards and dragged down the hallway back to his private prison quarters. His senses returned some time later, the darkness in his quarters being quite overwhelming. He looked out the small window he had, observing the massive cityscape that was Cybertron City, the capital of the planet.

“This…this will all be lost,” he thought to himself. He stood and began to pace, slowly, across his room. “No one understands…no one was there…no one heard the final words of Unicron…nor did anyone hear the statements made by Galvatron, of his desire to control Unicron, to use him as a weapon against his enemies…”

Prime slammed his fist in to the wall, shaking the room.

“They’re all going to die because they are blind to everything that’s happening around us!” he snarled out loud. “By beginning the energon mining and refining process, we’re awakening evil across the galaxy that has been in slumber all this time! With all this energon out there, this mass abundance, it is only a matter of time before Unicron awakens and sends a new herald to achieve his goals…to take the energon and revive himself!”

“Quiet down in there!” shouted one of the prison guards. “Enjoy what time you have left before your body is melted down for spare parts, spanner!”

The glow in Prime’s optics began to fade.

“Once again I must sit by and watch that of which I love fade away to nothingness…”

The darkness came to the room once more, engulfing everything as a shadow slowly crept over the landscape of Cybertron, like an eerie foreshadow of things to come….

 

1 – Chain of Command




As dawn broke over the enormous solar scrapers of Cybertron, the sunlight from the closest star creating just enough light to make daylight no brighter than dusk, the beginnings of another busy day on Cybertron started anew. Within mere minutes, transport ships full of raw energon flew both in and out of the Cybertron space docks, with dozens of Omnicons, energon refiners and miners, swarming around each transport. There was the sound of engines firing up, of robots transforming to their vehicular modes and back again, to the sound of an occasional laser blast, which was quickly followed by the sounds of the security force – laser fire was strictly prohibited on Cybertron now that the war was over with.

Beneath the surface of the merchant alleys of Cybertron City lay a secret headquarters for a branch of Transformers unwilling to give up the battle just yet. Included in the group was an ominous sort, a grouping and pairing that many would have never thought possible when the war ended ten years ago.

“All right,” stated Hot Shot, walking in to the light. His body had changed since the battle with Unicron – he appeared older, his body more mature and sleek in design, as if his speed and power had increased. His color scheme was back to his original yellow, signaling that the power boost given to him from Jolt had dwindled down. “Let’s get this meeting started then get out of here before security decides to crack down on it.”

Hot Shot turned to his right towards a shadowed figure who slowly stepped in to the light. His body was large and still bulky, his face not changing much since the last days of the battle.

“Thank you, Hot Shot,” thanked Jetfire. He turned to the small group of Transformers gathered in front of him. “As you all know, we are gathered here today because of a similar belief – that the threat of Unicron is far from over, and that someone has to continue to be diligent in the efforts to find Unicron and to neutralize his threat once and for all. That someone would be us.”

Jetfire raised his finger and with a remote zap, flipped on a monitor to his far right, causing the small crowd to turn their heads.

“As you can see on the screen,” began Jetfire, “I was able to detect an estimated location of where we believe Unicron now lays, dormant, awaiting some sort of ‘jump’ to wake his circuits up and start that whole chaos blaster thing all over again.”

Jetfire flipped to a new screen which had the crowd gasping in awe and fear. A cloud of green mist was visible and, through it, the shape of a badly damaged robotic planet, complete with horns and a robotic ring.

“That was as close as I dared get,” Jetfire concluded, turning back to the audience. “I’d say more than ever ‘bots that we got ourselves a planet eater just waiting to wake up and start his late night munchies.”

“So what course of action do you suggest?” asked Wheeljack from the crowd. He was unchanged since the battle with Unicron, save for the lack of any faction symbol on his chest. He preferred to be considered a mercenary, ready and able to work for whatever side was willing to give him the most benefits. More times than not he worked with Hot Shot’s new group of warriors, though from time to time it was rumored he had been hired by the security force to search for renegade war-mongers.

He never found any, of course.

“I say we just go in guns blazing and finish him off before he gets the chance to wake up!” shouted a rather obnoxious voice. It belonged to the former Decepticon known as Cyclonus. He too no longer wore the Decepticon emblem, mostly so he could walk the streets of Cybertron City without garnering dirty looks or the suspicious eye of the sentry drones. “If he’s half-dead then he’s got half the power to use on us, so some of us should be able to cause enough damage!”

Hot Shot did a face palm with his spare hand, shaking his head.

“Sadly, Cyclonus,” Hot Shot began, “even if we do go in there guns blazing, with the most powerful weapons possible, the small lot of us wouldn’t be able to do anything significant enough. We need something bigger, something to match his size and strength.”

“Like what?” asked Demolisher, sitting contently in the front row. Since the end of the Unicron Battles, Demolisher had become quite the loyal Autobot partner, constantly teaming up with Hot Shot to accomplish missions that required a bit more brute strength. “There’s nothing else out there the size of Unicron.”

“Actually,” Jetfire began, “rumor has it that Cybertron itself is a Transformer, simply in slumber.”

A murmur broke out amongst the crowd as Hot Shot raised his voice to get everyone back on track.

“Excuse me!” he shouted, though quietly. The crowd quieted down. “Thank you,” he continued. “If this rumor turns out to be true, we can reactivate Cybertron and have it battle it out against Unicron. With something that size, that powerful on our side, along with our combined firepower and some help from our Mini-Con friends, Unicron should be toast in no time!”

“Good luck explaining that to Rodimus,” blurted out Scavenger, standing at the far back entrance of the lair. As usual, he was quiet until he couldn’t be any longer, but always enjoyed staying out of sight in the shadows. “If you thought Prime was dense when he was set in his ways, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Good to see you again Scavenger,” Hot Shot greeted his old teammate. “Fortunately, I plan to present most of this evidence to him later this evening. With the overwhelming evidence, it should be enough to get him to see our stance on things and hopefully postpone any kind of arraignment on Optimus Prime.”

“You might want to speed that up,” Scavenger suggested. “News on the wire has Prime set for trial this afternoon due to his lack of will to pursue a plea of innocent.”

Another murmur broke out amongst the crowd while Hot Shot and Jetfire exchanged concerned glances towards each other.

“Rodimus is an honorable Autobot,” Hot Shot repeated out loud. “He will see the logic in these things. He will lead the assembly to release Optimus Prime. I am certain of it.”

Hot Shot thought back to the day that Optimus Prime lost his command of the Autobots, and when Rodimus took it over…

Optimus Prime was lost in space after the disappearance of Unicron, presumed dead by almost everyone. It wasn’t until a routine security sweep of the outlying solar system was Optimus Prime’s nearly lifeless body found drifting aimlessly amongst the space debris. His body damaged, his spark barely online, he was in intensive care for weeks until his body had healed enough for his spark to begin pulsating brightly once more.

Following his awakening, Prime quickly re-familiarized himself with his surroundings, with the events since his near-deactivation. Over seven years had passed at that point, and the Cybertron Elders had come back to power and ruled over the planet in Prime’s absence. To say they were reluctant to give back control would be an understatement – they found every excuse not to do so, even claiming things as trivial that Optimus Prime himself was most likely an imposter as the Matrix he once held no longer resided in him, though Prime had told the story thoroughly as to what happened with it inside Unicron.

Finally it was decided that Optimus Prime would hold the position of Chancellor to the five Cybertron Elders. He would answer to them, and they would answer to each other. Optimus Prime was put in charge of most of the daily affairs on Cybertron, though ultimate decision making came from the Elders themselves. Prime, though not happy with this arrangement, managed to make the best of it. It wasn’t until a confirmed sighting of Unicron’s damaged planet mode came back from one of the relay scouts, which prompted Optimus to begin planning a massive strike on the dormant planet eater.

His proposal was not only over-ruled by the Cybertron Elders, they chose to ban any type of military aggression of any sort. Laser weapons became part of this ban, as well as any attempts, plans, or open thoughts of using any type of physical force for any reason whatsoever. In a sense, war itself was banned.

Optimus Prime declined to agree to this and challenged the Elders. They were quick with their iron fists, so to speak, as Prime was imprisoned for war-mongering. Almost immediately, Rodimus, one of the highest ranking warriors in the Autobot-Decepticon war was appointed to Prime’s position, and he quickly became a pawn to the Cybertron Elders’ control. With Rodimus came his head of security, an upstart rebel named Prowl who took to his position poorly, abusing its rights and privileges, becoming rather corrupt in the matter of it all.

Landmine, a chief engineer and bodyguard to Rodimus, also joined the ranks of security, and the three of them cracked down and stopped most gatherings dedicated to the release of Optimus Prime, or the hunting down of any active Decepticon forces. Most were arrested, many disappeared, but none spoke of what happened once they were arrested.

Fear spread throughout the populace, and now Optimus Prime is about to stand trial for his war-mongering, and will be put to death if found guilty by the Elders. And, sadly, it stands that most believe Prime will be sentenced to death unless force is used to free him, which could mean a second Civil War between factions, something neither side would like to see happen.

“I’d ready a back-up plan if I were you,” Scavenger suggested again, his arms crossed and his head down. “If you really believe the Elders and their pawn Rodimus to be true of spark, then don’t do it. But if any doubt rests in your mind, always have a back-up, because if Rodimus behaves like Rodimus, you’ll be joining Prime in his deathbed the second you mention Unicron.”

“All right then,” Hot Shot concluded, looking back to the crowd. “We reason with them. If that fails, we bust out Prime old-school style. Hope you all managed to keep some manner of weapons around after the war, because chances are we might need them tonight.”

A cheer rose from the crowd as weapon after weapon was raised in to the air. Hot Shot smiled and looked to Jetfire who nodded in response, then to Scavenger who also nodded with his response.

“All right Autobots, former Decepticons!” Hot Shot shouted. “Jetfire will have your assignments later, be back before the trial and ready yourself for one lot of fireworks tonight, because we’re changing the way things are run around here!”

 

2 – The Human Factor




He sat, his legs crossed while his head rest in his hands behind his head. He had no care in the world – Autobot, Decepticon, Cybertron, they were all nothing more than names to something that he could honestly give a damn for. Gigantic brutes they were, weapon wielding creations designed to destroy and nothing more.

To say Kicker had a low opinion of the Transformers would be far from an understatement.

Due to the dealings of his rather psychotic father, Kicker and his younger sister Sally found themselves in the human quarters of Cybertron alongside the longtime Transformers loving humans of Rad, Carlos, and on rare occasion, Alexis. The three of them made first contact with the Transformers and were the first three to jump at the chance of assisting them in refueling their long dead planet and their goal to protect peace around the cosmos.

A goal Kicker felt was premature and shaky at best – you don’t have robots turn in to weapons and then expect a majority of the populace believe that your best interest is peace.

When Kicker had first arrived on the planet, he found himself brought before a chamber deep within Cybertron. Apparently he had some ‘gift’ as the chamber guardian noted, a gift of detecting the Transformers energy source, energon, in its purely raw form. It was a form that the Omnicons, a bunch of mindless drones, could go in and mine and refine to create energon cubes or, as the Cybertron Elders had created, energon stars that attach to the Transformer and re-energize them and act as energy shields.

Again, another creation that was pointless if your goal was peace. At least, it was pointless in Kicker’s eyes.

“Kicker!” shouted the voice of a young girl from down the hallway. Kicker opened his left eye and turned his head just enough to see his red headed sister Sally come rushing in to the room. “Kicker!” she shouted again.

“Whaaaat?” Kicker groaned, laying his head back against the chair. “Can’t you see I’m hard at work?”

Sally scuffed.

“Yeah, hard at work doing absolutely nothing,” she complained. “A job that you’re more than qualified for, I might add!” Sally wasted no time adding insult to injury. Kicker simply turned away from her.

Sally knocked over Kicker’s chair, thus sending Kicker face first in to the metal floor.

“You brat!” he shouted, rising to his feet. “What’d you do that for?!”

Sally smiled.

“Dad wants you down at the entrance to the mine shaft,” Sally informed her 16 year old brother. “I guess they’re having troubles locating the energon you sensed earlier in the week and they want to bring you down even closer to find the exact location.”

Kicker sighed.

“I wish dad would want to spend some time with us for something other than manufacturing energon,” he groaned, rubbing the back of his head and walking out of the room. He stopped and turned to Sally. “You should really look in to going back to Earth,” he added with concern. “I’ve had a bad feeling about things lately, and I really don’t think this place is too safe.”

Sally stuck her tongue out at her brother.

“You worry about yourself big brother,” she said with a wink and a smile.

Kicker groaned and continued on his way to the platform.

He opened the sliding door and stepped out. He breathed in – something that was impossible ten years ago. But with the help of the scientists on Earth, the Autobots were able to help create an atmosphere generator that fills Cybertron with the same layers of ozone that the planet Earth has, allowing humans to walk around and breathe naturally on the planet’s surface. It was an ingenious creation, and most of it was thanks to Kicker’s father.

Kicker walked down the steps and looked towards his left. As expected, the Mini-Con known as Highwire, a motorcycle with top speed, sat in vehicle mode waiting for Kicker to arrive. Kicker hadn’t quite figured out why Highwire had taken such a liking to him – it wasn’t like he had much experience with Mini-Cons, but for whatever reason Highwire stuck to Kicker like glue. In fact, the other two Mini-Cons in the group, Sureshock and Grindor, both stayed near Kicker and his little sister Sally. Misha, one of Kicker’s father’s assistants, was the favorite of Grindor, who was now an ATV unit.

“I figured you’d be waiting for me,” Kicker mocked Highwire. A murmur of beeps came as response. Kicker rolled his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re saying, but I bet it has something to the effect of how immature I am and how much I shouldn’t resent my father like I do already. And if that’s the case, save your energon pal, I have no time for it.”

Kicker got on Highwire and revved the engine. Within moments he was speeding down the passageways of Cybertron towards the mining facilities where his father and the Omnicons were waiting. A few turns and a few near-misses from random Transformers traveling down the same streets and Kicker found himself at the entrance to the mine. Two Strongarm Omnicons were waiting out front and they saluted Kicker.

“Greetings sir!” saluted one.

“Nice to have you with us today,” saluted the other.

“Yeah yeah,” Kicker groaned, waving them off. He took off his helmet and tossed it on the ground as Highwire transformed to robot mode. “So where’s my father at?”

“Please,” started one Strongarm, transforming in to its jeep vehicular mode. “Climb in and I’ll take you there!”

Kicker climbed in the front while Highwire climbed in the back of the jeep, and Strongarm quickly drove down the mineshaft. For a planet made of metal, Kicker was rather shocked to find the core of Cybertron was made more of rock than anything. He passed by many Strongarm units and a few Skyblast units, which came as a surprise as Kicker thought most would be out patrolling the solar system in search of both energon and rogue Decepticon forces.

A group of Strongarm units, one of the Cybertron Elders, and Kicker’s father awaited Kicker around the next turn, where it looked to have caved in somewhat. Kicker and Highwire both hopped out of the Strongarm unit and walked towards his father.

“Hey son!” smiled Kicker’s father, his bright white teeth shining too brightly below the surface to make any real sense. “I’m glad you could make it, this is really exciting!”

“Yeah I bet,” Kicker groaned. He looked around, and at the Cybertron Elder. “So why am I here? What ‘use’ do you have for me now?”

“Er,” was the initial response from the Cybertron Elder. His name was Xaaron, and he fancied the energon mines as his own private domain it seemed. “Your father has assisted Cybertron greatly in finding amounts of previously undetected energon fields,” he explained. “But unfortunately a cave in has destroyed our equipment, and your rare ability is the only thing we can count on at this point to detect the energon.”

“You can’t get more detection equipment in?” asked Kicker, trying to be a wiseass.

“We can,” replied his father. “But that would take at least two weeks to finish constructing, perfecting, and then setting the systems properly so we can start up again. The cost of time would be too great, so I figured asking you wouldn’t be too much of a hassle.”

“Well it was,” snapped Kicker, walking towards the rubble. “I was busy, and you know how much I hate being interrupted so I can do your handiwork.”

The doctor sighed as he turned away from his son.

“I can’t force you to do this Kicker,” he said, giving in to Kicker’s adolescence. “But I would hope that you would see past your own selfish desires and realize that this is not just for the greater good of my science, the Transformers, or their planet – but for the greater good of possibly the entire Universe!”

Kicker began to feel guilty as his father continued on.

“Energon is an energy source that is more potent than anything we have on Earth,” Kicker’s father continued. “Imagine if a small crystal piece could light an entire city for months! You could be part of that Kicker, you could be part of an effort to change the way the entire Universe works!”

Kicker pushed his father out of the way and placed his hand against the cold stone wall. He walked left, slowly dragging his hand across the stone until his hair suddenly began to sway as if wind was blowing through it, and if by magic, it began to glow gold, indicating that an energon crystal was directly on the other side of his hand. He looked to his father and scowled.

“There’s your precious energon old man,” Kicker grumbled as he walked past his father back towards the entrance to the inner mine. He stopped, turning to face the doctor. “I sense troubling times on the horizon father,” Kicker admitted. His gaze narrowed. “I’d hate to think your work is a cause of it.”

With that, Kicker snapped his fingers as Highwire transformed back to its motorcycle mode. Kicker hopped on and, as quickly as he came, he left, leaving behind a small cloud of dust as the sound of Highwire’s engine echoed throughout the cavern walls….

 

3 – Inner Demons…





Cyclonus stood atop the tallest building in Cybertron City, looking down upon the thousands of cruiser ships that were circling the various interstellar ports. Some were trader ships, exchanging various goods for spare parts, while others were simple transport ships with various Transformers exploring parts of the galaxy in hopes of finding some sort of treasure or bounty to reap the riches.

Next to Cyclonus sat Demolisher. The fact he was sitting atop the highest building on the planet of Cybertron itself was rather frightening to the land-based Decepticon – if he fell, that was it, no more Demolisher. He tried not to look down, but looking out to see the very planet itself in the horizon curve at the edges made the former Decepticon more than a little queasy.

“Oohhh,” whined Demolisher, closing his optic sensors. “Why do we have to be all the way up here Cyclonus?” he grunted. “Hot Shot and the others get to storm the actual building but we have to play back-up!”

“It’s so slagging irritating!” shouted Cyclonus, raising his fists up in the air in frustration. “We’re Decepticons for crying out loud, we need to see ACTION and DESTRUCTION!” he continued to shout, taking aim with his blasters at targets that did not exist. “Those Autobots just want to keep us Decepticons down, as always!”

“Yeah!” agreed Demolisher, slowly rising to his feet. “Those good for nothing peace loving Autoboobs just like to knock us around because of the past,” he concluded. “I say we get down there and bust out Optimus Prime ourselves, show Hot Shot and Jetfire how it’s really done!”

“That would be…unwise,” said a deep, thunderous voice from above them. The two Decepticons looked up to see a large warship hovering over them, slowly lowering itself to their level. “It would be…more resourceful…to follow orders…for now,” bellowed the behemoth warship.

“Well I’ll be a scraplets uncle,” laughed Cyclonus. “I’m surprised you’re not locked up in some cell by now, Tidal Wave!”

“No cell big enough…for Tidal Wave,” bellowed Tidal Wave in response, still hovering. “Must go now…Tidal Wave has job to do…”

“Job?” asked Demolisher. “Oh yeah, I forgot that you became a merc.”

Following the end of the Unicron Battles, the Decepticon forces disbanded, leaving many of the former followers of evil without a purpose. Many took to their own accords and ended up imprisoned, others left the planet entirely to seek out a new beginning elsewhere, and a select few became mercenaries, such as Tidal Wave, working for whomever would pay the largest sum of energon.

“So who hired you?” asked Cyclonus. “And for what job?”

“I did,” replied a voice from the far end of Tidal Wave’s warship mode. The figure stepped out of the shadows and in to the light. The figure was black and purple in color, sporting two wings and a faceplate to match.

“Starscream!” shouted Demolisher, taking a step back. “But you’re dead!”

Cyclonus smacked Demolisher on the back of the head and took a knee on the ground, bowing to the mysterious figure.

“Forgive him great one,” Cyclonus pleaded. “His stupidity is only matched by the lack of censorship of his vocalizer,” Cyclonus concluded with a chuckle.

“It is forgiven, this time,” replied the mysterious figure, teleporting from Tidal Wave to the very tower on which Cyclonus and Demolisher stood. Demolisher fell on to his rear as the shadowy figure hovered over him, his power reading right off the scales. “Learn this well, fellow Decepticon. I am Skywarp, accompanied by the Mini-Con known as Thunderclash.”

Skywarp turned, his back facing the two Decepticons.

“I was away during the Unicron Battles. When I returned recently, I find a faction that is neither Autobot nor Decepticon running our home planet, a faction that cannot even be swayed by the mighty Optimus Prime.”

Skywarp turned to face the two Decepticons again.

“These…Council of Elders… Where did they originate from? Were they once Autobots? Decepticons? What is their history? Why do they run this planet, attempting to change the only thing that the Decepticon race has ever known – war! Why, Demolisher?”

Demolisher stood dumbfounded, unsure of how to answer.

“Uh…,” he stalled. “Because they’re peace loving Autoboobs?”

Skywarp grimaced at Demolisher’s response.

“No,” he replied quietly, looking towards Cyclonus. “And that is the mystery we must solve. We must discover who each Council of Elders member is, what the history behind them is, and how they have managed to single-handedly take over a planet where the great Galvatron could not.”

“Then we blow them out of the blasted planet and take it for ourselves!” squealed Cyclonus in glee, rubbing his hands together. “Oh Skywarp, where were you when we needed you ten years ago!?”

“You two are currently working with the Autobot Underground, correct?” asked Skywarp, crossing his arms.

The two Decepticons nodded.

“Continue your mission as planned,” Skywarp commanded. “Tidal Wave and I shall assist if it becomes necessary, though I doubt we’ll have to worry about that. Hot Shot and Jetfire are brilliant tacticians, and the release of Optimus Prime will booster the morale not just of those Autofools, but also the Decepticons who have sided with the Autobots since the Elders took over. We can use that to our advantage, when the time is right…”

“And after we free Optimus?” asked Demolisher.

Skywarp smiled under his faceplate.

“I shall be in touch,” he concluded, teleporting back to the command center of Tidal Wave. “Tidal Wave! We’re off!”

“Yes…master,” replied Tidal Wave, slowly increasing his altitude over the Decepticons. In a few mere moments, Tidal Wave drifted away in to the clouds above Cybertron, its self-contained atmosphere for the human populace. Cyclonus and Demolisher looked at each other.

“Skywarp reminds me so much of Megatron,” Cyclonus thought out loud. “Well, er, back in the old days,” he added.

“Yeah,” Demolisher agreed. He looked up in to the sky above, admiring the millions of stars that could be seen from the top of the tower. “But he’s still not Megatron.”

“Megatron is gone, face it!” groaned Cyclonus, turning away from his comrade. “These are new times Demolisher, and we need someone like Skywarp to lead us back to the glory days!”

“I’ll never give up hope that Megatron is still alive!” shouted Demolisher in response, scowling at Cyclonus. “Nothing ever could destroy him and Unicron himself isn’t powerful enough to take down Megatron! You’ll see, I know he’s out there!”

“Whatever,” Cyclonus laughed, looking down below again at the scenery on the surface of the planet.

At that point Demolisher’s communications link began to blip, meaning an incoming transmission was detected. Demolisher quickly flipped open the panel on his wrist revealing the face of Hot Shot.

“We’re ready,” he said quietly. “Get ready to move on my signal. We’re going to need some major distractions, so I hope you boys remember how to shoot sporadically.”

“You got it!” replied Demolisher, shutting down the link. He looked to Cyclonus. “Let’s do it Cyclonus!”

“Right!” agreed Cyclonus, jumping in to the air. “Transform!” he shouted, transforming to his helicopter mode. He hovered above Demolisher who quickly grabbed on to the bottom of Cyclonus’s helicopter mode and the two Decepticons slowly made their descent towards the center of Cybertron City, ready to create a distraction to rival any distraction before it.

“First we free Optimus Prime,” laughed Cyclonus as the two Decepticons picked up speed. “Then we free our namesake once again – the Decepticons!!”

The two laughed as they continued their descent from the heavens…

 

4 – Of Hot Shots and Hot Rods







Hot Shot stood next to Wheeljack, the two warriors had their weapons behind their backs as they slowly approached the entrance to the holding chambers in Cybertron City. Inside, under deep security, lurked Optimus Prime, former commander of the Autobots and the target of this rescue mission.

Hot Shot looked to Wheeljack.

“All right bro,” he whispered. “Once Cyclonus and Demolisher create the distraction, it’s just you and me until we reach Optimus. Think you can handle holding off the goons while I secure Optimus?”

Wheeljack gave Hot Shot a blank look.

“This coming from the guy who wanted to talk things out first?” he laughed.

Hot Shot smiled.

“Consider this my ‘hello’ to Rodimus,” he said slyly, pulling his weapon out. His radar picked up Cyclonus and Demolisher not far from their location. A few brief moments passed when a large explosion was both felt and seen in the distance, immediately drawing out a number of sentry drones towards the location of the explosion. Hot Shot was quick to note that Prowl and Landmine, two of the ‘henchmen’ of Rodimus, were dispatched towards the explosion as well.

“Looks like they’ll have their hands busy,” Wheeljack smiled, pulling out his twin blasters. He took a step forward. “Let’s do it Hot Shot!”

“Right!” Hot Shot shouted, pulling out his blaster and taking aim. “For Cybertron!” he shouted, firing off a single shot. It smashed in to the face of the guard, sending him to the ground clutching his face as pieces of metallic flesh burned away at the extreme heat of the plasma burst. Hot Shot and Wheeljack ran by the guard and quickly took note of their new surroundings.

Hot Shot dove in to a somersault, rolling to a corner while Wheeljack walked in, guns over his shoulders, glancing around the room. Neither of the two warriors were able to spot anything other than the echoing of sentries storming down the other hallways towards the explosions outside. The two soldiers exchanged a glance and then rushed down through the main entrance way, leading them towards a rather large, spacious room with a large, sealed chamber in the far back.

“Optimus must be in there,” Hot Shot concluded to Wheeljack. The Autobot took his blaster and aimed it at the main lock on the chamber door. “This is for the betterment of Cybertron!”

“Halt!” shouted a voice. Both Wheeljack and Hot Shot turned to see a red robot with flames decorating his chest. His optics were a deep blue, showing both experience and wisdom. The figure took a step forward. “What is the meaning of this? Is that you, Hot Shot?”

“Rodimus,” replied Hot Shot, taking a step towards the Autobot that had replaced Optimus Prime’s position in the Cybertron hierarchy. “You have to believe me Rodimus,” Hot Shot began, “Optimus Prime is innocent, he shouldn’t be put to death for war mongering when he’s simply trying to secure a permanent peaceful future for Cybertron!”

Rodimus’s face turned to a scowl.

“So that’s what this is about,” he said, putting his hand on his chin. He turned away from Hot Shot and Wheeljack. “I am rather saddened by your actions, Hot Shot. At a time you would have been offered my own position when I became too ancient to hold it…”

“Rodimus…” Hot Shot whispered.

Rodimus turned, his weapon drawn.

“But these actions by your little militia have proven nothing more than that all of you belong in the same holding cell as Optimus Prime,” Rodimus growled. He took a step forward. “And you can all share his fate as well!”

Before Rodimus could take his shot, a large robot slammed through the wall nearest to the Autobot Commander, sending Rodimus flying towards the ground as an unknown assailant covered him completely. Hot Shot and Wheeljack looked to see the familiar body with green and purple colors on it.

“Don’t just sit there acting pretty,” Scavenger shouted, holding Rodimus to the ground. “Get Optimus out of here! I can’t hold this ‘bot for much longer!”

“True that,” snarled a deep, low voice. Scavenger found himself being lifted off the ground. He gazed over to see the Autobot known as Landmine, though he was bulkier than Scavenger remembered. He had combined with part of his vehicle mode and now had shovels as arms and a large weapon battery on his back. Scavenger felt himself become helpless as his body was thrown across the room, slamming in to the far wall. Scavenger felt his body tear open, fluids leak, pipes bend, circuits sever, and programs shut down.

“Scavenger!” shouted Hot Shot, taking a step towards his friend. He met with the resistance of Wheeljack’s hand on his shoulder. Hot Shot spun around.

“No time!” Wheeljack shouted to Hot Shot, pushing him towards the chamber door. He handed Hot Shot an energon grenade and smiled. “You go! You have to get Optimus out of here, bring back some sanity to this place, and defeat Unicron once and for all!”

“But Wheeljack,” Hot Shot stuttered. “You…I mean you’re….you can’t…!”

“GO!” shouted Wheeljack, drawing his two blasters and looking towards Rodimus and Landmine. Wheeljack let out a battle cry as he charged forward, his guns aimed forward and firing random shots towards the two oppressors.

Hot Shot pulled open the chamber door and rushed in, quickly closing it behind him. The sound of air escaping was the sound of the chamber sealing itself up to prevent anyone inside getting out. The room was completely dark and it took a few moments for Hot Shot’s optics to readjust. When they did, Hot Shot found the slouched over body of Optimus Prime in the corner.

“Optimus!” Hot Shot shouted, rushing towards Prime. He placed his hand on his shoulder and shook him. No response. “I’m too late, Primus help me…!”

A groan escaped the faceplate of Optimus as his optics flickered on. He turned his head and saw the familiar face of one of his most trusted soldiers and friends.

“Hot Shot…?” he asked. “What are you doing here? Is my trial starting?”

Hot Shot grinned.

“Consider the trial permanently post-poned,” Hot Shot chuckled, helping his commander up to his feet. He walked him towards the door and placed his arm across Prime’s chest. Prime gave him a puzzled look as Hot Shot pulled out the energon grenade.

“What’s going on, Hot Shot?” asked Optimus Prime.

“Your trial was a death sentence Optimus,” Hot Shot explained. “And a group of us decided to take a chance and bust you out.”

Optimus didn’t look happy at Hot Shot’s explanation.

“Look,” Hot Shot said, turning to face his commander. “If Unicron is still alive, if Galvatron is still out there, we’re going to need YOU to be the one to lead us.”

“Hot Shot…” Prime whispered, slightly embarrassed and humbled at Hot Shot’s words.

“Now,” Hot Shot started again, activating the grenade. “It’s show time! FIRE IN THE HOLE!” he shouted as he tossed the grenade at the back wall. Another beep was heard right before the energon grenade went off, blowing a hole through the thick steel walls. When the dust cleared, the skyline of Cybertron City was visible.

Optimus Prime took a step forward towards the light. He looked up at the orange sky, the blue and purple dust clouds, and listened to the slight hum of the machinery that made up the planet. He turned and looked at Hot Shot.

“Let’s roll for it!” shouted Prime, leaping out of the hole and sliding down the side of the detention center, sparks flying from his feet as they grinded against the steel. Hot Shot was right behind him, the two warriors sliding their way down to freedom. At the bottom was Jetfire and Red Alert along with a bunch of nameless soldiers.

Optimus Prime greeted his warriors, his friends, with a nod.

“Let’s save the pleasantries for later,” he suggested, running towards a sewer entrance. “We’ll go underground until we’re a safe distance away! Autobots, roll out!”

As the Autobots entered the sewer, a pair of deep blue optics watched them from the hole in the wall. His arms were crossed and a low groan escaped his lips.

“Rodimus?” asked Landmine from the door to the chamber.

“Get your gear together,” Rodimus ordered. “We’re going after them.”

 

Just when you thought I had forgotten about this guy! Merry Christmas!!!

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



5 – The Heroes of Tomorrow





His fingers tensed.

In his right hand a blaster, much like any blaster, though this was set to stun as opposed to causing actual damage.

In his left hand a shield, much like any shield, though this was an energon projected force shield, which unlike normal shields could be pierced with enough force.

When the door opens, he knew what his job was – to rush out, take out the opposing ‘players’ and retreat back to safety before he himself wound up defeated. He knew the troops in the cell next to his were just as powerful if not more so than he was. He knew that the odds were against him. But his weakness did not come in the physical form of an opposing ‘player’ …

No, it came from the doubt in his mind.

For all sakes and purposes, Ironhide did not believe in himself. He had joined the Cybertronian Military Academy many mega-cycles ago and had grown accustomed to the ordeals and training that he was put through to become the next great protectors of peace on Cybertron. But the Cybertronian Council had elected that the training become a form of sport, as to entertain the citizens and keep their possible thirst for tension and violence at an absolute minimum by giving them what they wanted to see.

Ironhide’s training had become more of a game, and he knew it.

The chamber quickly opened and the pit, the center of this gladiator-styled stadium became visible to him. In the center of the pit stood the actual remains of Unicron – a fragment of his shoulder that broke off during the massive planetary battle ten years ago. It served as a symbol of victory, a symbol that even the most impossible odds do not mean defeat. At the direct other side from Ironhide stood another robot who just exited his chamber. Ironhide quickly put a name to the face – Slugslinger, one of the premiere aerial combatants in the Cybertronian Military Academy. The two were more than acquaintances, Ironhide called Slugslinger a friend.

But training took over and in a flash Ironhide was dashing out of his chamber, blaster and shield in hand, rushing towards the center of the pit. Quickly he turned to his right, firing off a shot and hitting an unknown ‘player,’ knocking him to the ground thus ‘defeating’ him from the ‘training simulation.’

The crowd cheered.

“Yeah!” Ironhide shouted, raising his fist in the air. As if it were planned, a shot rang out from the distance and just nearly missed his outstretched arm. Ironhide turned to see an unknown Transformer taking aim for a second shot. Instinct took over, causing Ironhide to jump up in to the air, flip, and transform to his vehicle mode, slamming to the ground and revving his engine.

The other robot froze.

Ironhide sped off as fast as he could, charging the robot, and in an instant slammed his grill in to the robots chest, sending him flying back against one of the walls of the arena, physically damaging the robot. Ironhide’s pivoted gun turned, took aim, and fired. The robot was hit square in the chest, eliminating him from the round.

“All right!” Ironhide gloated, spinning himself around in a circle in vehicle mode. He screeched his tires and fired a few shots up in to the air in celebration.

“You best watch your back, Ironhide,” cackled a voice from behind Ironhide. The young ‘bot turned himself around to see Slugslinger hovering above the ground in his robot mode. His wings were outstretched like an angel, and his shoulder mounted blaster was locked on Ironhide. “If not for your constant hang-ups when you achieve victory, you’d be an honorable fighter. Pity this match has to end without a real struggle.”

And with that, Slugslinger fired his shot, hitting Ironhide right on his hood, temporarily stunning him and automatically sending him transforming back to his robot mode. Ironhide sat, head down, defeated, while the crowd cheered and roared for its winner, Slugslinger. As if on a victory lap, Slugslinger hovered up in to the sky and flew in circles around the crowd before landing atop the podium in the center of the arena.

Ironhide sulked back to his quarters as the crowd continued to cheer its victor.

As he walked back in to his quarters he was greeted by his trainer – a noble Autobot who had fought with the others in the Unicron Battles but chose to keep himself hidden from the spotlight. He led a crucial aerial attack against Unicron and managed to keep his attention while Optimus Prime and Galvatron landed and entered Unicron to finish things once and for all.

“Bulkhead!” yelped a startled Ironhide, losing his balance and stumbling backwards for a moment. He placed his hand on his head and grinned a dopy grin. “Uhm…what are you doing here?”

Bulkhead, an older veteran Autobot from the days of the war, stood tall in the light of the room. He was mostly green, but his face was orange and his mustache red. He was a rather jolly old fellow, and he had been working in the Cybertronian Military Academy since its conception to help train the future protectors of Cybertron.

His greeting to Ironhide was a smack to the back of the head.

“You miserable little whelp!” shouted Bulkhead, turning away from the startled Ironhide. “Has my training meant nothing to you!? When in battle you focus on the battle, when out of battle you can do whatever it is that you youths want to do!”

“Yeah but--”

“No buts!” interrupted Bulkhead, turning to face Ironhide again. “If that were a real battle out there kid, you’d be toast. I’d be picking up your slagging innards and hauling them to the morgue! There is no time for gloating in war!”

“But we’re not in a war!” protested Ironhide, stepping forward to face Bulkhead. “I’m tired of your rules and your regulations! I’m tired of all this training for a battle that’s never going to happen! The war is OVER! Unicron is GONE! The Decepticons are DEFUNCT! We’re at peace and all this place has ever been is a way to entertain the cheap-a-zoids that come to see us train!”

Bulkhead was silent as his stare fell upon Ironhide’s optics.

“So if you want to slagging rip in to someone, rip in to someone who might give a damn about this fabled war you speak of!”

Ironhide turned away from Bulkhead but was met with Bulkhead’s hand pulling Ironhide back around to face him. Before Ironhide could adjust, he found himself slammed against the back wall, his feet off the ground, and a very angered Bulkhead staring him right down in the face.

“If you’re foolish enough to think that this war is really over then I pity those who look to you for protection!” Bulkhead snapped. “If you want out so bad, Ironhide, then fine! Consider yourself discharged from this academy! Gather your things and leave!”

“What…?” Ironhide replied, shocked.

“You heard me – GET OUT!!!” screamed Bulkhead, tossing Ironhide towards his pile of things. “Get your things, say your goodbyes, then get the slag out of my academy. NOW!”

Bulkhead stormed off down the hallway away from Ironhide’s quarters just as a victorious Slugslinger walked in to the room, bearing witness to the incident that had just occurred. The look on Slugslinger’s face was one of concern for his friend.

“Ironhide…what was that about?” Slugslinger asked.

Ironhide sighed.

“I challenged his authority, his training,” Ironhide explained. “And now I’m without all of it, I’ve been discharged.”

“Yeah, I caught that much,” Slugslinger said with a slight chuckle. He walked up to Ironhide and placed a hand on his shoulder. “But don’t worry about things bro, I’m finishing up the last of my training and then I’m headed straight to Team Rodimus! I’m going to be one of the top dogs, and I’ll get you in somehow, I promise.”

Ironhide smiled.

“Thanks Slugslinger,” he replied, nodding to his friend. “And hey, since I’m the only real challenge you ever had, the rest should be easy, huh?” he laughed, jokingly punching Slugslinger in the shoulder.

Slugslinger smiled.

“I have a bad feeling about things Ironhide,” he said, looking out Ironhide’s window to the horizon. “Like something bad is happening, or about to happen and we’re going to end up being the last chance Cybertron has.”

Ironhide laughed.

“No way man,” Ironhide said, gathering up his gear. “With a ‘bot like Rodimus in charge, we have nothing to fear. The future is in good hands, we’ll be fine!”

Slugslinger looked out the window some more, staring off to the horizon. The sun was beginning to set on Cybertron, the sky a hue of orange that covered the entire cityscape. But at the edge of the horizon came the night, a sheet of darkness to cover Cybertron. Slugslinger, inside his spark, knew that there was another darkness coming, one that would blanket Cybertron as well.

Only this one would be much more terrifying than the darkness of night….