Transformers: Legion

Discussion in 'Transformers Fan Fiction' started by Prime_Directive, Aug 5, 2010.

  1. Prime_Directive

    Prime_Directive less than meets the eye

    Feb 28, 2010
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    First off, I'd like to thank you all for stopping by! If you've been keeping up with my Transformers series, you should be good to go. I you're new to my universe, go here to read the initial installment. Please, enjoy!


    The beautiful green and blue planet far below stretched on for tens of thousands of miles, shimmering in the light of its magnificent yellow sun. Mountains arched upwards in gargantuan chains, reaching up mournfully at the sky, as continents collided with each other in slow-motion. The vast sapphire oceans roared mightily, beating violently against cliffs and rocks while gently caressing tan sandy beaches. Expansive emerald jungles teeming with life spread across mountains, valleys, and plains. Volcanoes belched smoke and ash, regurgitating and recycling the planet's swallowed interior, signaling its continuing ability to sustain- and destroy- the life so prevalent on it.

    A white and maroon figure gazed longingly at the planet, staring through the forward portal. “It's finally over, Vector,” said the gold and opal being behind him.

    Vector Prime's gaze shifted around the cockpit of the Sojourner, over the flashing lights and control panels, the gauges and meters, the spacious seats upon which their kind could spend eons in, piloting these enormous starships throughout the Milky Way Galaxy.

    “At last, we've found a suitable world," Prima continued. "At last, the object of Megatronus's insane ambition will be hidden away, permanently."

    Covered in a clockwork-like design, Vector Prime nodded. "It seems that we have been searching for millions of years."

    Prima laughed heartily. "It is unknown to me how long we've been meandering aimlessly through the infinite vacuum you and I call space. After all, you are the one bestowed with the ability to travel through time."

    "Though we all may walk amongst the many billions of timelines in existence," Vector Prime countered.

    Prima grinned. "True. But none so easily as you."

    Vector Prime smiled back at his brother, and turned to view the enchanting planet ahead, which grew larger slowly as the ship approached it.

    "What data exists about this planet?" Prima inquired.

    "It is unmapped, unmarked, and undocumented in all of our star charts. It may as well not exist," Vector Prime answered promptly.

    "Perfect." Prima grinned, nearly giddy. "We can finally rest peacefully, millions of years after our brothers and sisters who preceded us into the All Spark."

    Vector Prime sighed. "I only wish that we could be visiting this planet under more peaceful circumstances, rather than hiding an incentive for war."

    "Relax, Vector Prime," Prima said. "War will not come to this planet any time soon. Whatever sentient species inhabit it will have time to prepare themselves for our descendants' coming."

    An airlock hissed, and five relatively diminutive red and blue figures entered, followed by a large, malicious green figure adorned with spiraling horns and five wicked-clawed digits twiddling from each hand. The larger figure regarded Vector Prime and Prima curtly, almost disdainfully.

    "Liege, how did the procedure progress?" Prima asked.

    The large green being answered, "It went well, considering..."

    "Considering what?" Prima asked innocently.

    "Considering the best minds out of our brothers and sisters were killed in battle," hissed the Liege Maximo.

    "Even without Megatronus's betrayal, many of us would have been lost to your own ambitions," Prima countered.

    Maximo hesitated. "I was created to be evil. It is my function. You know as well as I do that for either good or evil to exist, the opposite has to exist as well at some point in time in every universe.”

    Quickly changing the subject, he said, “Prima, present the Star Saber to Nexus so he can hide it!"

    Prima nodded, unsheathing a glowing blue sword. "Be cautious, Nexus Prime," Prima warned, addressing the five smaller beings. "Many will search for the Star Saber once word of it gets out. Few will seek it for pure intentions."

    The five sections of Nexus Prime nodded. "I understand," one said, stepping forward. "I will not let you down." Prima approached the group, and, with a mighty flick of his wrist, broke it into five pieces, distributing them amongst the pieces of Nexus Prime.

    With that, the five fully-functioning and independent pieces turned and filed back through the airlock, which hissed shut. Moments later, the five exited the ship and rocketed silently into space, in five different directions, before disappearing amongst the blackness.

    Prima turned and approached the ship's front viewport, gazing at the planet below him. “Only those who are determined, and strong of mind and body, and with pure intentions will be able to collect the pieces of the Star Saber. A weapon of such power must be guarded with the utmost attention; that is why Nexus Prime, one of our own, agreed to be split into five components.”

    “What about the Matrix of Leadership?” the Liege Maximo hissed. “Was it wise to leave it behind?”

    Prima turned to his counterpart. “Regardless of the reasoning behind it, it was necessary. The Matrix of Leadership chooses those who lead Cybertron, and will continue to do so until it is passed to the One-”

    “Yes, yes, we know. Until it is passed to the One who will light our darkest hour. The Covenant is programmed into our beings,” Maximo growled impatiently. “But was it wise to leave it with that weakling, Primon?”

    “Alpha Trion believes that it was destined to be so,” Prima countered.

    The Liege Maximo hesitated. He sighed, and turned away from his brother to stare at the blank wall. “Who would have predicted that I, the Liege Maximo, would be reduced to this? That I would enter the All Spark from such a Primus-forsaken planet?” he lamented.

    “You volunteered, Maximo Prime,” Prima reminded him.

    The Liege Maximo turned, glaring at Prima angrily. “Not a soul has dared uttered my name since the creation of Cybertron, yet you use it so easily?”

    “Do not forget that I was chosen to bear the Matrix of Leadership at the dawn of our race. Do not forget who was granted power beyond your own,” Prima scolded.

    The Liege Maximo, or Maximo Prime, fell silent. Prima turned to gaze out at the planet once more, as it grew ever larger and closer.

    The planet's surface was mostly a blue compound of what the ship's computers found was hydrogen and oxygen, about seventy percent. But the remaining thirty percent were concentrated around a single point. A juvenile sea was slowly growing year by year at that central point, slowly filling with water and aquatic life. One discernible continent pulled itself southward, toward the planet's frigid pole. Two continents pulled to the left of the ocean, slowly parting themselves. Three more continents clashed with each other, pulling apart in place and colliding in others.

    “Vector, land the ship to the right of the central ocean. If my scanners are correct, there is life there that we may prepare for our descendants' coming,” Prima commanded.

    Vector Prime nodded, and tapped a few icons on the glowing holographic monitor before him. Immediately, the nose of the ship swung to the right, and begin to rattle as the vessel entered the planet's atmosphere. A roar drowned out all other sound as the ship was engulfed in flames before shortly falling silent as the ship slowed.

    Standing, watching the planet rush up to meet them, Prima felt his body lean forward slightly as the massive Cybertronian ship decelerated. Mountains and jungles below expanded rapidly, approaching the ship as if to greet the weary travelers at the end of their millions-of-years-long journey. The details seemed to balloon to Prima's optical sensors, and then, suddenly, the nose of the ship shifted upward, and the ship evened out, parallel to the planet's surface, slowing, slowing, slowing steadily.

    Birds and other animals scattered, letting out frightened cries, as the craft maneuvered effortlessly, gliding nimbly over the terrain.

    Prima's mouth curled into a genuinely pleased grin. He pointed ahead, indicating an open field littered with stones, each bearing the evidence of work. Primitive tools lay scattered haphazardly around the.

    Vector Prime quickly entered the command, and the ship slowed to a stop in mid-air, before slowly descending to the ground. Skid-footed legs extended from the ship as it alighted, stabilizing it on the green grassy ground.

    Prima turned toward the opening airlock door, and began toward it. Vector Prime tapped at the glowing monitor a few times, shutting the ship's engines down, before standing and following his leader. The Liege Maximo quickly followed in line. The three entered a corridor brightly lit with blue light pouring from glowing sapphires, before coming to the ship's main chamber.

    Here, in this brown room lit with glowing quartz crystals, stood the unnamed Cybertronian. His massive, stoic figure gleamed gold and silver, as he stood, silent and still, awaiting his destiny.

    “Are you ready my friend?” Prima asked, almost hesitantly.

    “Since the dawn of our race, I have waited for this moment,” the being replied. “Indeed, if it is time, I am prepared.”


    The dark-skinned, dark, long-haired being grunted. His toned boy seemed hesitant at this new development, and he waited patiently for any new developments. The light, warm breeze whispered through the emerald-green jungle, tugging at the fringes of his animal-hide coverings. He gripped the wooden spear in his hand tightly, whitening his knuckles. His palms were wet. A bead of sweat dripped from his pronounced brow.

    He jumped slightly, startled, as the utterly enormous brown bird in the clearing let out an unearthly cry. Its belly erupted, skin peeling back and dangling to the ground like the ridges his kind use to climb cliff faces. Four towering animals stomped down the ridge to the ground, surveying the area.

    The proto-human grunted again, and motioned with his head. Several others of his species appeared from their hiding places in the thick foliage, stepping tentatively out of the safety and cover of the jungle.

    He held his spear at the ready, shaking in anticipation and fear of these giants. But these did not move with an air of malevolence- at least, not all of them did. One of them approached him regally, almost like a god, and he realized at once that this must be one of them. Immediately, he dropped his spear and fell face-down to the ground. He trembled.

    The others mimicked his actions, dropping to the ground on their knees.

    The green giant uttered something in an alien language and laughed. The one closest to the proto-human shot him a look, bringing him back under control. The yellow and blue behemoth knelt down before him, staring directly into his fearful eyes.

    The giant held out his hand, palm-up, low to the ground, and flexed his fingers a few times. The proto-human stood, understanding, and stepped into the giant's hand. He wavered slightly as he felt himself rise into the air, until he stood eye-to-glowing-eye with the giant.

    With the giant's other hand, he gestured to one of the others. The dark red and white giant covered in mysterious symbols complied, disappearing into the featherless bird for a moment before reappearing.


    Vector Prime reverently bowed and extended his hand to Prima, palm upward. Above his palm floated, spinning slowly, a silver object, with two long, thin cylinders that tapered toward the center before increasing in radius toward the ends. From the outside of both cylinders extended a crescent, which tapered to a sharp point on both ends. At the center of the object, a greenish-blue crystal glowed.

    The creature in Prima's hand fell to its knees in awe once more at this sight, and with his other hand, Prima took the Creation Matrix from his brother. He held it clearly in sight of the creature, which could only tremble in sheer awe-inspired fear.

    Satisfied, Prima returned the Creation Matrix to Vector Prime's hand, and the entire ship began to change, reshaping itself into a more streamlined shape against the ground. Now it stood like a dome above the field, with the only entrance now smaller than the gold and silver giant, which took its place in front of the entryway.

    Prima overturned his hand, but the proto-human found that he didn't simply fall to the ground. Instead, he descended slowly, gently to the grassy field. He again fell to his face, afraid to bring his eyes to meet the gaze of the magnificent, regal giant before him.

    Prima turned back toward the ship, leading his two brothers toward the entrance. The stoic nameless being stepped aside, allowing Prima, Vector Prime, and the Liege Maximo entrance, before retaking his position.

    In its transformed state, the chamber now possessed two lengthy cylinders; one hung down from the ceiling, the other reaching up toward its counterpart from the floor, but forever unable to join it. The lower cylinder reached twenty feet into the air before abruptly coming to an end, leaving a gap of four feet between it and the higher. Cautiously, Vector Prime lifted the Creation Matrix to its roost, gently placing it in the gap and retracting his hands.

    The Creation Matrix hovered serenely above the surface of the lower cylinder, bathing the room in its blue-green light.

    "Now..." Prima whispered, almost sadly. "It is time for the final phase. This universe is prepared as instructed; it is time to move on."

    With that, the three Cybertronians formed a triangle around the cylinders, with Prima at the head and Vector Prime and the Liege Maximo forming the legs. They joined hands solemnly, and the room slowly began to spin around them, growing ever faster, until the three seemed as one being, rotating in a massive blur around the Creation Matrix, before disappearing.


    "So you see, class," the speaker continued, "Atlantis is a very real possibility."

    Every student in the class uttered a groan. Spike Witwicky's head sank further down into his palm, and he barely mustered the energy to keep his eyes open. Next to him, Carly yawned, clapping her hand over her open mouth.

    "When we consider the fact that almost every known ancient civilization has a story similar to the legend of Atlantis, along with the fact that each version of these stories can be cross-checked and verified to be nearly-identical, it is amazing that anybody could possibly doubt the plausibility of the story," the speaker concluded. "Any questions?"

    "Why did I sign up for this class?" Spike muttered sarcastically.

    "Why did we stay in it?" Carly responded quietly.

    They glanced at each other and smiled, before returning their gazes to the speaker at the front of the darkened classroom, silhouetted by the reflection of underwater ruins on the overhead projector screen.

    A girl's hand meandered into the air near the far wall. "Yes, you there," the speaker said, pointing to her.

    "Umm... what about that... power source or whatever?" she asked groggily.

    "Simple really. The same reason for the cataclysm that sank Atlantis." The speaker grinned goofily. "Aliens."

    An audible sigh echoed throughout the classroom.

    "Any more questions?"

    Not a single hand was raised this time. The speaker shifted his eyes, scanning over the classroom repeatedly. "No? Okay, then, I'll turn it over to Ali- I mean, Ms. Baker." The speaker lifted a remote control and clicked a button, deactivating the projector.

    Ms. Baker, a young woman who couldn't have been older than twenty-five, stood, just as the bell rang. The students stood sleepily and began shuffling out of the classroom.

    "Okay, remember, students, Mrs. Goodwin will be back tomorrow! And the test is still on!" The students within earshot groaned.

    Spike's hand fell lazily to his side, and he squinted as he exited the room, half-blinded by the bright morning sunlight. He felt a hand dropped and curl around his own; he looked to his side, waiting for his eyes to adjust, and found Carly staring back at him.

    She giggled. "You make me feel so pretty when you look at me like that," she said, half-jokingly.

    Spike smiled back at her. Suddenly, heavy arms draped around the both of them. Their eyes shifted to see the speaker's face inches from their own. "Pretty cool, eh?"

    "Oh, that was painful," Spike answered.

    The speaker's arms fell to his side, thick leather jacket waving with the impact. "I know, Spike, I know."

    The three continued on down the hall for a moment. "By the way, you signed up for and stayed in this class because Optimus asked. He really wants to know if anything in Earth legend could possibly be the Creation Matrix."

    "We know, Roller," Carly said. "It was sarcasm."

    Roller hesitated in his disguise. "Right. Right."

    "Besides, it's not like anybody actually knows where the Creation Matrix is, right?" Spike said.

    "You're right, Spike. You're right," Roller admitted.

    Spike and Carly turned into the main second-floor lobby, situated around the ornate main stairway, toward the next hall over, which ran parallel to the previous one. Roller patted them both on the back.

    "Well, gotta go, kids. The Boss-bot wants everybody on our dodgeball team for a training session, if you know what I mean," he said. He waved, and turned toward the stairs, and soon disappeared amongst the migrating students.

    "So Opti- err, Boss-bot really thinks the Creation Matrix could be, like, the Baghdad Battery or something?" Spike said aloud as they passed a row of lockers.

    "Guess so," Carly said. They turned down the next hall. "I'll see you at lunch, okay?"

    Spike nodded and smiled. Carly turned and slipped quietly down a side stairwell, and also disappeared amongst the ocean of students.

    "Eighteen months," he beamed. "A year and a half."
  2. Prime_Directive

    Prime_Directive less than meets the eye

    Feb 28, 2010
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    Chapter 1
    The dark room hid his yellow form from view of anyone, even himself. Bumblebee held his head in one hand, the other draped across his knees. Everything was silent aside from the low humming of his own systems, which was his only comfort, the only thing telling him he was still alive.

    Images of Prowl flashed by in his mind: Prowl scolding him, Prowl fighting off Frenzy, Rumble, and Ratbat. Prowl fighting Megatron. Prowl getting blasted, grimacing in pain as pieces of his body were torn from his being and scattered. Prowl being torn apart. Dying.

    Bumblebee's knuckles tightened around his concealed face, and contorted his free hand into a fist.

    There was a knock at the door, which promptly slid to the side, spilling light from the corridor into the room. “Bee? You okay?”

    Bumblebee's eyes opened, and his view drifted to the silhouetted figure in the doorway. It was Ironhide. The older Autobot stepped into Bumblebee's quarters. A short, stout Autobot with a dome-like head followed.

    “You still upset over that mole?” the short one grunted in a deep, almost shocking, voice.

    The back of Ironhide's hand clanged against the round side of the small tan Autobot's face. "Brawn, Prowl was a hero."

    "Once a Decepticon, always a Decepticon," Brawn retorted coldly.

    "He died stopping Megatron from killing Bumblebee, and possibly Optimus Prime himself," Ironhide said.

    Brawn grunted, annoyed, and shrugged his shoulders, looking away.

    "Bumblebee," Ironhide said again. The yellow Autobot gazed upward, staring Ironhide optic-to-optic. "It's time."


    Much of the darkened city was fast asleep. Silently, a large, magenta bus rolled down an alley, splashing through a puddle of assorted swirling liquids that reflected the dim streetlights in varying degrees, waved forward by a soldier in urban camouflage. The Autobot sigil gazed out blankly yet heroically at the blank backs of tall buildings. A large, blue truck adorned with the Autobot symbol on its hood pulled up beside the bus.

    A teal motorcycle weaved between them, and a small, pink and white compact sports car veered around the blue truck, followed by two muscle cars: one red and black that prowled sleekly through the dark alley, one yellow and black with a large black spoiler. Both possessed silver engine blocks in the centers of their hoods.

    Ironhide cautiously edged around the blue truck in his rugged, mud-spattered vehicular form, coming to rest amidst a group of soldiers setting up a blockade. He transformed, rising above the humans surrounding him, spat oil from his mouth, and grunted, giving the impression of clearing one's throat.

    Immediately, the magenta bus began to shift its own form, millions of peace working together in perfect harmony, rotating, swiveling, spinning, folding, and extending into the tall, slender form of Elita One. The rounded-rectangular helmet on her head cast her face in silhouette, as the blue truck also transformed, revealing its identity as Chromia, who winked an eye at Ironhide.

    The four other Autobots remained in their disguised forms.

    A human in uniform trudged up beside Ironhide, patting him on the leg. The somewhat oval-shaped and colorful Neo-Knight logo adorned his uniform on the left side of Major Bradley J. White's chest as he let his hand fall to his side from Ironhide's calf.

    "All right, Neo-Knights, we have multiple sightings within the past month. Apparently, workers at a nearby car dealership have been reporting hearing sound similar to snarls or growls, then finding nothing but dismantled car parts and the cars themselves drained of any fluids. According to Teletraan-1's database, this behavior is consistent with the Decepticon Dead End, so this may mean that Wildrider, Dragstrip, Breakdown, and Motormaster may be in the vicinity as well, which is why we have called in the big guns. We also have intel from our spy, Sideways, that a black European sports car, very high-end, I might add, with red racing stripes, has been avoiding main roads and mostly sticking to secluded alleys, further supporting the Decepticon theory," White explained, pacing back and forth in front of the group of Autobots, hands folded behind his back. His tone turned grim. "And remember, this is the real thing."

    Suddenly, a trash can behind Ironhide and White clattered to the ground, drawing attention to itself. Immediately, a black form fell to the ground, and shot forward, its engine roaring.

    Ironhide turned back to the group of Autobots, but the four new arrivals were already in pursuit. The teal motorcycle, Moonracer, raced after her quarry on a single wheel, before being passed by the red and yellow cars, who seemed to dance as they transformed, spinning around in unison, flying on wheeled feet, blades extending from their lower arms.

    Together, the Autobot twins bore down on their prey, intent on ending it... until it made an abrupt turn onto an intersecting alley. The two curved sharply, focusing on the fleeing Dead End, and the red one, Sideswipe's foot crossed into his brother, Sunstreaker's path, sending both Autobot tumbling to the ground, and crashing into a brick wall and scattering trash cans and their contents.

    Moonracer sped agilely past, lining up the scope on her rifle. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker glared angrily at each other, snorted, and stood, speeding off after Moonracer and Dead End.


    Moonracer shut one eye, letting the world fly past her in one dark gray blur, and she stared intently through the scope of her black rifle. The city, the buildings, the alley, the light all faded away, and only two things existed: her and her prey.

    Dead End's engine revved as he accelerated, faster, with the small Autobot directly on his rear bumper. A white sports car with orange rally stripes smashed out of a garage, joining its comrade. The two Decepticons screeched to a sudden halt, forcing Moonracer to swerve directly into a brick wall. She slid slowly to the ground.

    She groaned, holding her forehead with her free hand, as the two Decepticons sped past her and curved around onto another side alley.

    She coughed, clearing her vocal processors. “Arcee, Dead End and Breakdown are headed your way!”

    The response over the com-link was clearly feminine, similar to Moonracer, but with more purpose to it. “I'm on it, Moonracer.”


    The two Stunticons revved their engines irreverently in the dimly-lit alley. Bricks shattered, the debris dispersed across the poorly-paved pathway as a large black semi-truck with dark, almost invisible purple marking crashed through the wall, immediately followed by a yellow F-1 racer and a solid black sports car with red-tinted windows, each marked with the Decepticon logo.

    Sideswipe and Sunstreaker charged forward, blades at-the-ready.

    "I hope this doesn't scratch my paint," said one of the Decepticons, in a stuffy voice.

    Ahead, the alley intersected a main road. A blob of light from an approaching vehicle spread like butter across the black tar.

    "We gotta get to them before they get to that intersection!" Sideswipe shouted.

    "You think I don't know that?" Sunstreaker retorted, shooting his brother a dirty look.

    Sideswipe responded with a glare of his own. "I'm the leader of this outfit, and you better respect me!"

    "Ironhide's the leader here, and when he's not around, Bumblebee is! 'Sides, I'm the oldest!" Sunstreaker declared.

    "We're twins, you stupid idiot! Neither one of us is the-" Sideswipe was cut off as the two crashed head-first into a dumpster that the Stunticons had easily glided around just moments before.

    Collapsing back onto their backsides, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker groaned and shook their heads. They glared at each other. Sunstreaker pulled his arm back and slammed his fist hard into Sideswipe's face. Sideswipe responded by standing and shooting forward, sending trash from the dumpster into his brother's own face. Sunstreaker spat, disgusted, and took off after his brother.

    "Oh great, moron, now we'll never catch them in time!" Sunstreaker berated, as the Stunticons crossed into the intersection.

    Suddenly, a pink and white figure vaulted elegantly over the five Stunticons, angling her dual-wield pistols and firing directly into them. Arcee landed gracefully on her feet in front of the twins, who screeched to a stop. "Tag," she said.

    Immediately, the five Decepticons began to slow, crashing lifelessly into brick walls.

    The female Autobot brought the mouth of one pistol to her face, and blew away a puff of smoke emanating from inside the black barrel without a second thought. "That's how it's done, boys," she said, turning lightly away.

    The twin's jaws dropped to their chests. Sideswipe's clanged to the pavement, bouncing once, twice, and then settling. He stupidly dropped to his knees, grabbed it, and reattached it.

    Arcee's hips swung rhythmically as she walked through the fading illusory buildings. The holograms around the Decepticons faded, revealing the Autobots Sideways, Tracks, Jazz, Mirage, and Optimus Prime.

    "Yo, you got style girl!" Jazz called out, transforming along with his comrades.

    "I think you scratched my paintjob," Tracks complained, evidently the same stuffy voice from before.

    "Relax, Tracks. We were just tagged. No real shots were fired," Sideways assured his comrade. He was a mostly purple Autobot, with a thin blue visor that angled slightly upward in the middle, and a mask that covered most of his face, allowing verbal communication through six vents positioned in columns of three. Antler-like protrusions extended to the sides from either side of his head, and the top corners of his sleek alternate form hung over his shoulder almost like wings. The headlights on his chest illuminated the now streetlight-less hangar.

    Tracks stood warily. "Oh-okay." His red face seemed almost out of place against the rest of his head, which was white, and the humans sometimes jokingly referred to him as "Judge Uptight," due both to the resemblance of his head to a Victorian-era judge's wig and his unwillingness to put himself- or his paintjob- in danger. The rest of his body was an unscratched dark blue, which reflected little light from Sideways's headlights. A white missile launcher hung over his right shoulder, the other down over his back.

    Mirage remained silent. He himself was white and blue in color, with thin, scowling eyes, and prominent cheek guards that shrouded most of his face in shadow. The spoiler from his formula one alternate form rose behind his head, partially visible between the sides of his head and the large hind wheels that formed most of his shoulders.

    "Tracks," Prime said, bringing the younger soldier's attention to himself. "You have to stop worrying so much about your appearance. Remember, our War must not come to this planet."

    Through the gloom, the red and blue Autobot Smokescreen came running, followed by Bumblebee, and the military-green Hound.

    "Great shot, Arcee!" Smokescreen said enthusiastically. The female Autobot simply shrugged the compliment off, and started toward the open door.

    “Arcee,” Prime said, catching her in her tracks. Immediately, she turned to face her commander. “You know I ordered Ultra Magnus and his troops to stay on Cybertron. You should still be there with him-”

    “I know, I know. Court-martial,” Arcee interrupted.

    “Naw, girl. Me and Prime been talkin', and we think it was best that you came,” Jazz explained.

    “Jazz is correct,” Optimus affirmed. “The Decepticons could be anywhere, and we need all the help we can get. You are a Wrecker, an elite, and Elita One is fond of you. You may remain on Earth, until the Exodus is ordered.”

    Arcee smiled, relieved. “Thanks, Optimus.”

    Optimus lifted one fist into the air. “As Ultra Magnus would say, wreck 'n rule.”

    Arcee let out a silent chuckle. "Hot Rod made that one up, sir. And wreck 'n rule."


    The massive dark violet craft floated malevolently, high above the bright white expanse of Antarctica. It resembled two pairs of pyramids joined at the base, the pairs then joined at one corner, although the edges sunk in toward the interior of the ship. The entire craft was coated in thousands upon thousands of panels that could retract, revealing multitudes of cannons of all different types. An enormous black cylindrical cannon extended forward from the forward bottom pyramid. This was the Nemesis, the flagship of the Decepticon fleet, and the only Cybertronian craft equipped with space bridge technology, allowing it to warp around the galaxy at it's commanders' will.

    The bridge was a long, gray room, located on the front top pyramid. A lengthy, rectangular walkway spanned its length, lined on both sides by cubicles on a level lower than the walkway itself. Each cubicle was manned by a pair of Decepticons, working intently at glowing holographic blue consoles on maintaining the massive ship's systems. At the front of the room, one could see through a thick, clear viewing portal, and the stars twinkling, fading, and flaring light-years away.

    At the back, the airlock door hissed open, and Megatron stepped impatiently through, hands clasped together behind his back. He paced silently up the length of the walkway, regarding each pair of Decepticons coldly as they entered data systematically.

    Step by step, he approached the view-port, and gazed fittingly coldly down at the frigid continent far below him. He grunted, slowly losing his temper.

    Suddenly, a bulky purple Decepticon with dark green markings and a single, red optic in the center of his stupid face, stood and saluted grandly. "All hail Megatron, glorious leader of the Decepticon Empire!"

    Megatron closed his eyes, annoyed, and, with thumb and index finger, blades retracted, rubbed the bridge of his metallic olfactory sensor, otherwise known as nose. He let out a sigh, trying to calm himself. He opened his eyes again, and, finally calm, returned his attention to the icy landmass below.

    "Lord Megatron-" the Decepticon began again.

    Megatron angrily grabbed the Decepticon's bulbous chin, hauling him out of his cubicle and onto the walkway. "Lugnut... you'd better... have something important... to say!" the Decepticon commander seethed.

    The larger Decepticon simply lifted his bulging arm, and pointed out the portal with one thick finger. "Starscream returns, my almighty."

    Megatron craned his neck, gazing around his trapezoidal upward-thrusting shoulder guards, into the monochrome view. He dropped Lugnut's chin, and the Decepticon shook the ground when he fell, before climbing back down obediently into his cubicle.

    Sure enough, Megatron spied a light-gray and red speck, joined by a blue speck ascending through Earth's atmosphere toward the Decepticon flagship. "So, Starscream and Thundercracker have a guest?" Megatron chuckled to himself. "Just as I suspected." Soon, Starscream and Thundercracker disappeared from view beneath the ship.

    Moments later, the door hissed, and Megatron spun to see Starscream slink in, followed by Thundercracker, who rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. They were followed by a large being, obviously Cybertronian to Megatron's optics, but it bore no faction symbol to speak of. What could possibly become wings in its alternate mode sprouted up over its shoulders, each marked by a red stripe. What seemed to be the alternate form's cockpit shone a bluish color, centered in the being's chest. A blue stripe began at the very front of the round helmet and circled back to the being's neck. Behind the head rose a rounded rectangular structure, possibly a container for scientific tools. Other than a few more red marks, the being was entirely white, matching the color-bleached continent below the ship. Its blue optics scanned the bridge nervously.

    Megatron smiled kindly. "Welcome to my ship. What is your name?"

    The large being, who towered over both Starscream and Thundercracker, themselves identical aside from coloration, had to hunch to avoid hitting its head on the ceiling. It hesitated at Megatron's question. "I... I am Jetfire, of the Cybertronian Science Division."

    Megatron looked pleased. Starscream disdainfully turned his gaze away. "Jetfire?" the Decepticon leader repeated. "Why, we've been searching for you for millennia!"

    Jetfire's head lowered slightly, then rose back to its former height in his confusion. "Millennia? For how long was I lost?"

    "Your convoy reported you lost over fifty thousand years ago," Megatron said, feigning regret, gesturing sympathetically. Starscream rolled his eyes, and turned the rest of his body away.

    "Fifty thousand years?" Jetfire said weakly.

    Megatron's face contorted with fake sadness. "Yes, I'm afraid."

    He turned to look out through the view-port once again. "In that long time, many things have changed. We are at war."

    "War?" Jetfire flared up, unbelieving.

    "Yes, I'm afraid so. My valiant army, these Decepticons, all you see inside this craft, fight the Autobots under the corrupt Optimus Prime. The Autobots have demonstrated that they will stand in the way of Cybertron advancing itself."

    "Absurd!" Jetfire declared.

    Megatron turned back to the new arrival. "I agree, with all of my spark. My Decepticons and I have battled them for the last thirty thousand years, and Cybertron has been devastated as a result. But you... You can lead us to the key to defeating them and bringing Cybertron into a new golden age. Lead us to the Creation Matrix, and we may end this war yet."

    "Creation Matrix? I don't know what you're talking about," Jetfire refused.

    "Don't play dumb, my friend. You know as well as I that it is somewhere on that planet," Megatron said, extending one arm and pointing emphatically at Earth. "Please, I implore you."

    Jetfire's elegant hand raised to his face, thumb and index finger clamped around his chin. Finally, he let out a sigh, lowered his hand, and said, "Who are you?"

    Megatron, puzzled, answered. "Why, I am Megatron." He smiled again.

    Jetfire immediately fell to his back, and pulled himself backward on his elbows. Thundercracker turned, seemingly intrigued.

    "M- Megatron?" Jetfire stuttered. "Y- you are in the Covenant!"

    Megatron's face twisted with confusion, and a loud buzzing filled the air in the bridge. Jetfire shook his head back and forth hysterically. "No... no..." he repeated, over and over, as his body gave off a light blue glow, and disappeared before Megatron's very eyes.

    Immediately, Megatron boiled over with rage. "Starscream, I thought I told you to deactivate any teleportation abilities!"

    Starscream, offended, pointed his finger directly at Thundercracker. "I told HIM to do it!"

    Thundercracker replied calmly, coldly. "No you didn't. You told me you'd do it yourself." He smirked. "Besides, teleportation isn't my area of expertise. You told me, 'don't worry about it, I'll do it.'"


    "Shut up, Starscream," Megatron growled.

    Starscream looked at Megatron in disbelief. "That's not fair! I told Mr. Scientist here to do it!"

    "I told you, I don't know anything about teleportation, even the old style. That's Bugbite's area. Just look at Skywarp," Thundercracker countered.

    "But I-" Starscream began.

    "Starscream, you've failed. Don't try to shrug this off on competent Decepticons," Megatron said.


    "BUT NOTHING!" Megatron bellowed. "I grow impatient with you, Starscream."

    "Why do you treat Thundercracker with such undeserved esteem?"

    "Because you, Starscream, are an idiot!" Megatron declared. He turned back to the view-port waved his hand dismissively. "Now leave me."

    Starscream scoffed, and turned and left the bridge in a huff. "Thundercracker," Megatron said, without looking up, "tell Bugbite, Bludgeon, and Mindwipe to prepare the portal."

    Thundercracker nodded, almost absently, and turned and left the room.

    Megatron thought to himself for a moment, and then turned and followed the path of Starscream and Thundercracker, leaving the room.


    Megatron's quarters were spacious, filled with canisters of Energon collected from planets across the galaxy. Empty translucent piping webbed its way from the Energon containers, toward what the entire room was centered around: an ornate throne, made mostly of pure gold.

    Megatron grumbled lowly, tapping a few buttons on the small control panel next to the airlock door, locking it to prevent any unwanted intrusions.

    He walked slowly, almost tentatively, to the throne, and sat carefully. He glanced in every direction, ascertaining that the room was empty. Satisfied, he turned his attention to his left wrist, the pieces of which shifted, converting into a communication device. He tapped a button on the end of the arm of his throne, and the network of pipelines began filling with the glowing yellow liquid.

    Megatron could feel the surge of energy throughout his circuits as the throne transferred the flow of Energon directly into his body.

    The communication device on his wrist instantly projected a blurry, blue image, which slowly focused as Megatron's body was energized. Almost there, Megatron thought. I just have to increase the signal's power...

    Megatron groaned with the strain, feeling the Energon now leave his systems for the device. The image focused slowly, revealing a demonic but heavily-built body. Megatron could feel the fire in this being's eyes, as if it were actually burning away at his arm.

    "Megatron? Why have you contacted me?" the being demanded.

    Megatron gazed, hiding his animosity, at the holographic being hovering above his arm. "We have lost the scientist Jetfire, but our agent within the Autobots is still functional."

    "Good, good," the being rasped. "You are proving yourself worthy."

    "Worthy of what, if I may ask... master?" Megatron said, almost disdainfully.

    "Of the power you will soon be given. The Creation Matrix, and my army."

    Megatron wanted to roll his eyes. "And Cybertron will be brought back to its golden age, as you promised, Lord Megatronus?"

    "Do not speak my name," the being hissed. "You may have been designated after my own name, but you must not speak my name."

    "But Cybertron will become as promised?"

    "Yes..." the being answered.

    Megatron hesitated. "You will be freed soon," he said.

    "Excellent. But-"

    Megatron terminated the connection before the being could speak any further. Megatron finally rolled his eyes. "What have I gotten myself into?" he said aloud.


    Jetfire materialized in a blast of blue light high above a mountainous region. He gazed down, horrified at what he'd encountered. Megatron's name was from the Covenant of Primus itself! Something few Cybertronians knew about!

    "I've got to find this Optimus Prime. If he's been chosen by the Matrix of Leadership... he may be our last hope," he said to himself.
  3. Prime_Directive

    Prime_Directive less than meets the eye

    Feb 28, 2010
    News Credits:
    Trophy Points:
    Chapter 2
    The glass doors parted, mirroring the boy who strutted arrogantly through them. He wore a tight, skin-hugging blue shirt, spattered with dark drops, concentrated more in the shoulders and less down the chest and back, and dark denim shorts much too large that hung loosely from his waist, the bottoms swinging around his lower calves with each step. A burst of cool air erupted into Archer High School as the doors swung open and then shut, alerting the students inside to the new arrival.

    From her vantage point on a bench in the main lobby, Carly grimaced. “What is he doing?” she groaned, her hand over her mouth.

    “Who?” Spike asked obliviously, glancing around.

    Raoul,” Carly uttered, mocking the flamboyant way the younger student carried himself.

    Chip shook his head, and then rested in it his hand, elbow firmly planted just above his knee. “What is he doing now?” he asked, refusing to look for himself.

    “He looks like he's trying to join a gang,” Carly said, disgustedly.

    “Last month, it was punk rock,” Spike said. “Now this.”

    Raoul Lopez approached casually, bobbing his head like a bird with each step. “Yo, Bumble-girl!” he shouted, addressing Carly.

    “Ugh,” Carly muttered. “For the last time, Raoul, my name's Carly!”

    “Whatever,” he said, placing a hand on Chip's shoulder. Chip's eyes shifted uncomfortably toward the hand. “Listen, you, uh, wanna go for a little ride in Tracks later today?”

    Spike glared at him. “Raoul, you know Spike is my boyfriend,” Carly said, rubbing her temples exasperatedly with the tips of her fingers. “Besides, I wouldn't want to go on a ride in such a tight-ass like Tracks anyway.”

    “Have it your way,” he said, failing to hide the damage to his ego. He whipped out a short comb and smoothed his long black hair with it, before returning it to his pocket, and turning and walked, flustered, away.

    “Wouldn't want to go with such an egotistical jerk like that anyway,” Carly said. Spike beamed at her, and she returned the expression.

    The rain drummed dully on the roof, at the windows, and the doors. Thunder rumbled lightly high above in the gray clouds that hung limply from the sky. The two pairs of eyes stared into each other deeply, each lost in the other, before Spike heard Chip mumble something, breaking his concentration.

    “What was that, Chip?” he said.

    “Oh, nothing,” Chip said. “I was just wondering if the Decepticons really are going to launch a full-scale invasion, like Iron- err, Eastwood and Boss-bot think.”

    Spike sighed. “I don't think so,” he said, deep in thought. “Even if the did, I don't think they'd be able to defeat all of us. I mean, you've got all the armies on Earth backing up the Autobots, and we haven't even seen all of them. The 'Metroplex' or whatever- it's somewhere around here, and most of it's crew is already at the base in Africa, where they're building the space cruiser.”

    Carly added, “And then there's Omega Sup-”

    “Tsk tsk tsk. Now you've lost all respect I ever had for you, Carly,” a girl interrupted. She wore a short-sleeved, low-necked green shirt with a white “W” on the torso, tied in a knot below her ribcage on her back, revealing her bare mid-drift, and a skimpy white undershirt beneath, barely rising above the “V” of her shirt's neck. Her dark denim shorts only covered half of her thighs and hugged her skin tightly. Her skin was tanned but not burnt, and her chocolate-brown hair hung past her shoulders. Her brown leather flip-flops clapped against the ground as she walked toward them, swinging her hips condescendingly. “I mean, first you start dating this loser,” she pointed at Spike, “then you start talking with him and his no-legs friend about their sci-fi. I'm very disappointed.”

    “Go to Hell, Astoria,” Carly grumbled. Spike and Chip glared at the girl.

    Astoria frowned, feigning hurt. “Now, Carly, is that any way to talk to your old cheer-mate? You know, it's not too late to turn back. After all, I'm Astoria Carlton-Ritz. You're Carly-”

    “Yeah, yeah. I know. 'Hill girls' gotta stick together.' But the plain fact is, Astoria, I'm finally getting to be who I've always been, underneath all the makeup and expensive clothing,” Carly interrupted.

    “Or lack thereof,” Chip added, under his breath.

    Astoria's head jerked back on her long neck. “Excuse me, do you think I'm loose, no-legs? Let me ask you something. Can you even get it up? Can you even feel attraction to a woman?”

    Chip gaped at her in disbelief. Spike decided he'd had enough. “Astoria,” he said firmly, “it's time you go on to class.”

    “Who are you to tell me-” she began, when the principal rounded the corner from the office and smiled.

    “Oh, here's trouble,” he joked, smiling stupidly. “You kids behaving?”

    “Yes,” all four answered in bored unison.

    “All right, then,” he said unknowingly, before continuing on toward a door on the opposite side of the lobby, where the teacher's lounge was located.

    Astoria sneered at Carly and Spike, and turned on her heel and walked red-faced away.

    “God, she's annoying,” Spike said.

    Carly nodded in agreement. “She always was trying to replace me when I was captain of the squad.”

    Spike shifted his glance to his wheelchair-bound friend. “Chip, listen,” he said. Chip gazed up at him with cynical eyes. “She doesn't know what she's talking about. Handi-capable, remember?”

    Chip looked away, and crossed his arms. “Yeah.”


    The stoic warrior Bludgeon stood side-by-side with his comrade Mindwipe. The Decepticon's dark green exterior was highlighted by orange in a few places, and armor resembling a battle skirt hung from his waist. His foot tapped impatiently, heel spur knocking against the guard on his calf. He fingered the hilt of his katana-like blade, currently hidden in its sheath. The dark brownish-red samurai helmet obscured most of his head, revealing only the skeletal face inside. His optics seemed like small but intensely hot flames burning inside his eye sockets, and Bugbite couldn't stand to look into them for long.

    Mindwipe was equally creepy to the small, gray Decepticon scientist's eyes; long, thin bat-ear-like protrusions reached upward from the sides of his head, and much of the armor that converted into the exterior of his alternate mode hung down from his shoulders like a cloak, terminating just above the floor of the darkened hangar. His digitigrade feet only enhanced his eerie aura, and his hands- when they left the obscurity of the inside of his cloak- sprouted five clawed digits. Two piercing optics shone from behind a visor-like structure, with a third positioned in a triangle with the others. It was difficult to detect much detail on the Decepticon's body, as he was entirely black, aside from his optics.

    What further annoyed Bugbite was that the two so insisted upon their sorcery's superiority over science. It was idiotic! Their moronic mumbling incantations weren't about to just bring the damned Fallen into their universe! Either way, Bugbite felt that he was forced to work alongside them. After all, they were working for something far greater than that clueless Megatron could comprehend.

    At last, all of Bugbite's hard work- and just a little bit of manipulation- was coming to fruition. The portal had been moved into the main hangar of the Nemesis, the airlock blast doors protecting the interior from the outside were locked and sealed tight, and the entire ship's crew now watched anxiously as Bugbite worked, gathered in a lopsided circle around the ancient metal ring.

    Despite his appearance- he resembled the Autobots Bumblebee and Cliffjumper- Bugbite harbored such animosity toward most of the other beings in this universe that it made no difference to him whether or not Megatronus Prime's plan truly exceeded what even he'd suspected. Now, he smiled maliciously, eyes intently focused on the console before him.

    He tapped coldly, calculatedly, sparing no time as his fingers worked agilely.

    “How much longer must we endure this?” Megatron demanded from nearby.

    Without looking up, Bugbite said, “Just a few moments longer. I have to reroute most of the ship's Energon reserves to the portal for it to have enough power to breach the dimensional barrier, and that's not the easiest thing in the universe to do.” No hint of his hatred toward Megatron poisoned his voice.

    Megatron nodded. “Then proceed.”

    Bugbite rolled his eyes.

    Finally, the metal ring began to give off light from its several-million-years-old circuitry. A small black circle formed at the center of the portal as white bolts of electricity arced from the outer ring to the dimensional breach, sustaining it. Slowly, the breach grew, clawing its way through the air toward the boundaries of the ancient ring. Neon green and dark purple colors swirled inside the portal, joining the black center.

    “At last,” Megatron said, awe-struck, “it begins!” He shuddered excitedly.

    A rumbling drowned out any more words from the Decepticon leader or his army as the hangar began to vibrate, and soon, the entire ship trembled under this massive force.

    The lights throughout the hangar flickered off, then on, then off again, as if under their own will.

    And then, to Bugbite's pleasure, two blood-red lights appeared in the portal. Megatron roared triumphantly at the sight of his mysterious otherworldly benefactor's optics glowing amongst the void.

    “C-can you hear me, master?” Megatron bellowed above the rumbling of the ship's tremors. “We are here!”

    Then, abruptly, the twin lights disappeared, the hangar's lights shut off, and the portal dissipated. A massive discharge of electricity entered Bugbite's circuits through the console, shorting out the holographic monitor and sending Bugbite tumbling backwards.

    Megatron stamped his feet angrily. “WHAT?” he growled, enraged. “BUGBITE, WHAT DID YOU DO?”

    Bugbite groaned, and rolled weakly over to his stomach, and pushed himself up. “We don't have enough power to maintain the bridge for long enough for him to cross through,” he explained, feeling himself lifting off the ground. He craned his neck to see Bludgeon's hand clamped around his shoulder and raising him from the ground.

    “Megatron, Bugbite is the only one who can open the bridge,” the warrior insisted. “Only he can lead your master through to our world. And only your master can show us the way of the ultimate warrior.”

    Bugbite sighed, exasperated with Bludgeon, but Megatron relented.

    “Very well,” the Decepticon leader growled. He turned to Starscream, who stood next to him, as usual.

    “Starscream, take the Seekers out. Find the nearest viable source of energy, and remove any resistance. Once we control enough energy, I will send Soundwave to convert it to Energon, and we will bring it back here.”

    Starscream bowed melodramatically. “As you command, my Lord.”

    Megatron turned to exit the hangar. “Take Tidal Wave, too,” he instructed before disappearing through the arched doorway.

    “Let it be done.”

    “Starscream, you are such a suck-up,” another Decepticon identical in form to Starscream said. This Seeker's black exterior rendered most of his body barely visible in the gloom, aside from his gray face and purple highlights.

    “Silence yourself, Skywarp, or I'll make sure Tidal Wave has a little... accident, shall we say, with you,” Starscream threatened.

    “You'll do no such thing,” Thundercracker retorted. “Skywarp's too important. The teleportation technology that Bugbite placed inside him isn't something to merely destroy.”

    Skywarp scoffed. “You're as boring as ever, Thundercracker.” The blue Seeker shot him a glare. Skywarp shrugged in response. “I'd rather take Starscream's challenge than listen to your techno-babble anyway.”

    “Last I remember, Skywarp,” Thundercracker spat, jabbing a finger into the Raptor cockpit on his chest, “you were so cowardly, you couldn't face down a lone Quintesson.”

    Bugbite slapped himself in the face, and drug his palm down heavily over his chin.


    Thundercracker gazed down upon the large black irregular pentagon below him from his vantage point in a cloud. His audio sensors detected the roar of Starscream and the others' vehicular forms hiding in the cloud as well. He watched stoically, coldly, as the sirens wound up from a soft whine to a full wail, alerting all of the sailors to imminent danger.

    The pentagon was really the deck of an aircraft carrier, the USS Harry S. Truman, according to Soundwave. Multiple human aerial fighters lined the bow on both starboard and port sides, their glassy cockpits gleaming in the sunlight. The orderly way that the sailors had been surveying each fighter with was quickly abandoned in favor of a chaotic rush toward the tower that served as the ship's bridge, perhaps down below deck, or perhaps to hear what danger was approaching.

    Before long, any questions about what was coming were answered as the water swelled and a massive Decepticon burst through the bubble of water, gazing down at the aquatic ship with child-like interest.

    From deeper in the clouds, Starscream said, “Tidal Wave, destroy it!”

    The massive, mostly gray Decepticon grunted, wrapping his thick fingers over the opposite edge, one hand on the bow and one on the stern. Tidal Wave grunted with the strain, pulling as hard as his arms would allow, before the middle of the ship began to distort as it was held forward by his thick torso.

    Several rockets launched, smashing into Tidal Wave's armor, but he responded with his own barrage of ordnance, firing several volleys from four turrets on his chest. Several explosions erupted as the guns firing on the mammoth Decepticon exploded, rocking the ship violently and scattering shrapnel into the sea. At last, the ship split into two pieces, bursting at the middle, sending frightened sailors catapulting out of the now-exposed corridors and quarters, and loosing several jets from their resting places into the ocean.

    The two halves of the ship began to tilt, open ends filling with water, spilling the rest of the fighters into the ocean, crashing against each other.

    “Starscream, tell Tidal Wave to smash the ship's bridge. I detect radio signals emanating from within it,” a voice hissed over the communication link. It was Thrust, a red Decepticon who had taken the form of a human F-35.

    “Tidal Wave, destroy it!” Starscream ordered immediately.

    Obeying Starscream's command, Tidal Wave's thick, rectangular arm swiped awkwardly but powerfully at the bridge, rending it from its foundations and shattering it. Balls of fire rolled upward into the sky as tanks of oil and other chemicals exploded. Tidal Wave grunted, unaffected, as the spheres of glowing orange plasma caressed his mechanical form.

    “How is the reactor, Thundercracker?” Starscream asked, bursting through the edge of the cloud bank in his alternate form.

    “My readings show no meltdown threat. The water is proceeding to cool the reactor as expected,” Thundercracker replied. “I must wonder why we destroyed the ship when Tidal Wave could simply mimic its form.”

    “You think the humans wouldn't notice two identical aircraft carriers? Of course we had to destroy the original! If there were two...” Starscream growled in frustration.

    “But don't you think they already know we've destroyed the first? Those radio signals Thrust detected couldn't have simply been casual chat, Starscream,” Thundercracker retorted, emerging from his hiding place.

    “I'll gut you yet, Thundercracker!” Starscream roared.

    “Guys, guys!” Skywarp called from within the vapor. “Let's all just relax and watch the aftermath. Who wants to argue over something like this?”

    “I agree,” yet another Seeker cackled, still hidden. “Let's go collect their corpses!”

    “No, Dirge,” Starscream said. “We Cybertronians are above this. Collecting human corpses is as undignified as-”

    “As getting shoved around by Megatron like a little doll!” Skywarp said. He laughed derogatorily.

    “I'll show you! I'll show Megatron!” Starscream cawed. Below, Tidal Wave's body was shifting into the form of the destroyed aircraft carrier. Pistons churned and gears spun and cogs meshed as the gargantuan Decepticon transformed, perfectly mimicking the very thing he'd just obliterated, aside from a few purple accents in places, including a vast Decepticon logo on the bow of the deck. Starscream dove toward the logo, transformed, and landed lightly on the gunmetal-colored runway. The others followed suit.

    “So, where to, oh mighty leader?” Skywarp inquired sarcastically.

    Starscream shot the purple Seeker a vicious glance, before shifting his gaze to the horizon. “Soundwave, this is Starscream. Do you copy?”

    “Soundwave acknowledges. State mission,” came the cold reply over the communications frequency.

    “Direct us to the closest major source of energy. And where are we?”

    “Present location: designated 'Gulf of Mexico'. Data indicates large amount of oil-drilling platforms north of your location.”

    “Perfect...” Starscream trailed off. “Starscream out.”

    “Oil? This is my kind of planet,” Skywarp commented, gesturing as if he were downing a canister of the black liquid.

    “Quiet, you fool,” Starscream scolded. “We need that oil to produce Energon, not for your consumption.” He jabbed a finger at the air emphatically.

    “Bo-ring,” Skywarp replied. He opened his mouth wide and waved his hand in front of it, pretending to yawn.

    “We need oil because Megatron said so, Starscream. Where's your brilliant and infinitely better plan this time?” Thundercracker taunted.

    Starscream froze, apparently caught off-guard. Thundercracker smirked. “Maybe I want to see if this 'Megatronus' really knows what he's talking about,” Starscream offered weakly.

    “Or maybe it's because you're really not as better a leader as you claim?”

    “Thundercracker, do you really think Megatron would simply leave this planet and end the War if we were to obtain the Creation Matrix? Megatron's become so absorbed and obsessed with the War that it would continue until every last Autobot is eradicated,” Starscream declared. “That is why I will overthrow him. Once we have achieved our goal, our purpose, I will seek a peaceful ending to this conflict.”

    “You know that's not true,” Thundercracker countered. “You know as well as I do that you wouldn't be able to hold yourself back. You would use the Creation Matrix's power just as Megatron would: to destroy the Autobots, and then make yourself into the ultimate being. Cybertron and everyone who lives there is just as secondary to you as it is to Megatron.”

    “That's not true!” Starscream raged indignantly. He clenched his jaw, curled his hands into fists, took a stiff step forward.

    Thundercracker took a step back. Maybe he'd prodded too far this time. Maybe he'd pressed the wrong button. Maybe- maybe he was actually going to have to fight Starscream.

    His body relaxed, his thoughts proven wrong when Starscream turned away and stalked back off toward Tidal Wave's bow. “Tidal Wave, head north! Take us to the nearest platform!” he screamed.
  4. jetfire4321

    jetfire4321 Banned

    Jan 30, 2010
    Trophy Points:
  5. Prime_Directive

    Prime_Directive less than meets the eye

    Feb 28, 2010
    News Credits:
    Trophy Points:
    Chapter 3
    At about thirty feet tall, Optimus Prime was exceeded in height only by Inferno, Firestar, and the giant Autobots, such as Omega Supreme. He exuded a regal aura that all who met him immediately noticed. He was slender with an athletic build, broad shoulders and powerful arms and legs, the very appearance of a leader. On either side of him stood his immediate subordinates in the chain of command: Jazz and Elita One. The three stood on a balcony high above the training hangar, which was twice the size of a football field in either dimension. Seventy feet below, several Autobots worked through a maze full of dummy Decepticons, obliterating each with minimal damage to their surroundings to proceed. Ratchet and Ironhide stood outside the entrance to the maze, ready to respond to any accidents.

    Suddenly, Prime heard a voice over his communication link. “Blaster to Optimus Prime. Blaster to Optimus Prime, do you read me, O-P?”

    “I hear you loud and clear, Blaster. Proceed,” Prime said. Blaster was somewhere outside of the Earth's atmosphere in the Metroplex, along with Perceptor.

    “Incoming urgent transmission from Cybertron. I'm tossing it down to the hologram room now,” Blaster replied.

    “I'll be there momentarily, Blaster. Thank you.”

    “Anytime. Blaster out.”

    Prime turned, nodding to Jazz. Elita One smiled serenely at him as he walked through the arched doorway behind them.

    Optimus walked down the empty hallway, which echoed with the muffled sounds of battle in the hangar. He could think of only one thing that could be urgent enough for Ultra Magnus or Alpha Trion to contact him.

    He continued down the hall for a few moments, before coming to the sealed holo-com room. He tapped in the access code, and the airlock door slid up, he stepped in, and the door slid back down, hissing like a hidden cobra waiting to strike.

    A hologram buzzed, filled with static and noise as the transmission locked, and slowly, the image stabilized, revealing the grim form of Alpha Trion.

    Prime knelt on one knee. “Alpha Trion, my friend. What brings you to contact me?” Prime inquired, afraid of the answer he knew was coming.

    “Unfortunately, the War,” Trion answered.

    Prime let his head hang for a moment, before he pulled himself together and stood. “I see.”

    “Perceptor's laboratory has been broken into recently, and all of his notes on the Space Bridge project were stolen. The Decepticons left Cybertron soon after in a massive warship,” Alpha Trion explained.

    “So they've equipped the ship with transwarp technology. I was afraid of this,” Prime said.

    “But the situation's worse than I feared originally. They also took the spark detector Starscream used to locate Megatron on Earth. Everything that has happened recently was written in the Covenant of Primus. Next...” Alpha Trion froze, seemingly out of fear.

    “Alpha Trion, what happens next?” Prime asked sternly.

    “The return of the demon,” Trion stated grimly.

    Prime stood silent for a moment. Finally, he said, “Then we will change the future. This demon will not be unleashed on this planet.”

    Trion nodded. “All the pieces are in place. Armageddon may very well be on its way.”

    “And we will prevent it,” Prime insisted.

    “Fare ye well, Optimus Prime. But first, Emirate Xaaron wishes to speak to you.”

    Prime nodded, and Alpha Trion disappeared from the hologram, and was quickly replaced with the quivering vision of Emirate Xaaron.

    “Op- Optimusssss...” Xaaron hissed weakly.

    “What is it, Xaaron?”


    Prime waited patiently for Xaaron to continue, before asking, “What do you need to say?”

    “Your time is ending, Optimus Prime,” Xaaron stated.

    Prime blinked, somewhat shocked. “Ending?”

    Xaaron nodded, and then began to rock back and forth, gazing out into space. “He is coming, eating away at the dimensions. Eating...”

    “Who? Who is coming, Xaaron?”

    Xaaron's reply was simple and grave: “The dark.”

    “What is the dark?”

    “He is coming. Your time is ending, Optimus Prime.” It was clear to Optimus that Xaaron had been deeply shaken by whatever vision he had experienced.

    “But what is the dark, Emirate Xaaron?” Prime pushed. It seemed that Xaaron had seen the demon Alpha Trion had spoken of. But what, exactly, was the demon?



    Men raced, shouting and panting, slamming against steel railings and each other, scrambling out of the way of a missile, which exploded against the underside of a catwalk, spilling several men into the ocean below. Their horrified screams as they broke the surface of the water dug into Thundercracker's spark like burrowing ants, but this was his mission; he would not give Starscream reason to call him “traitor”.

    Thundercracker watched as Starscream transformed in the air and landed on the oil-drilling platform like a skilled bird of prey, sending two more missiles smashing into the rig.

    Skywarp bore down on the rig from the other side, inciting more, louder screams from the workers, and disappeared, only to reappear in his true form beneath a catwalk they had concentrated on and swipe at it, tearing it away from the main platform and sending it, along with the men, into the churning water.

    Dirge dove beneath the surface, and burst out, carrying a man in one hand. “Starscream! Look! Can I keep it?” he cackled, shaking the man in his hand. The man's screams quickly died, and his limbs flailed wildly.

    “Aw, it's dead!” Dirge whined, stopping the shaking. He shrugged, and casually tossed the body aside, before alighting gently on the rig.

    Ramjet shot forward and rammed into the platform, throwing off the remaining workers, and Thrust dove out of the sky, dropping a bomb into the flailing men. The resulting explosion silenced their screams.

    Thundercracker alighted on the roof of the rig's main office, and gazed silently down at the churning ocean. It struck him as wrong somehow, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. But he wouldn't let Starscream see it. If he did, he'd make sure Megatron had Thundercracker's head on a titanium platter.

    “Something wrong, Thundercracker?” Starscream said aloud, as the other seekers landed.

    Thundercracker thought to himself for a moment. “Nothing,” he said, finally. “This planet's oceanic currents are interesting. Nothing more.”

    “Well, then, let's get to work,” Starscream said. He turned, activating his communicator.

    “Soundwave, we are ready for Energon conversion,” Starscream said.

    “Request: acknowledged. Estimated time to arrival: four hours,” Soundwave replied.

    “Good. Megatron will be pleased.”

    “Megatron this, Megatron that! Don't you ever shut up about the guy, Starscream? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had a crush on him!” Skywarp taunted, hovering just out of Starscream's reach. Starscream ripped a large chunk of machinery from the platform and hurled it at Skywarp in reply. It bounced off Skywarp's head and plunged into the ocean with a crash. “Hey, that hurt!”

    “I'll show you hurt!” Starscream said, raising his fist.

    Thundercracker sighed. “You had both better desist before you tear the entire platform apart. Megatron won't be pleased when he hears that you bungled a simple mission to capture a single oil platform. By now, I'm betting Bludgeon, Mindwipe, and Bugbite have already captured their nuclear power plant in the north-eastern sector of this planet.”

    “Aw, c'mon, Thundercracker. We were just havin' a little fun,” Skywarp whined.

    “No, he's right,” Starscream said, venomously.

    Thundercracker turned from his usual comrades, and watched the ocean roll by, undulating gently in spite of the slaughter that had just ended. This planet was nothing like Cybertron, but at the same time, it was exactly like Cybertron. At least, it was exactly like what Cybertron used to be. He remembered it well, serving under Orion Pax in the archeological division.

    He'd been young then. Naïve, too. But, of course, maybe he still was naïve.

    They were camped for many days in the Valley of the Primes, legendary launching point of Prima and the other Original Thirteen who had survived the first war. He remembered a lot of sand. Every now and then, he felt like it was still stuck inside his every joint.

    “Exciting, isn't it, Thundercracker?” Perceptor said, flashing a rare grin.

    “Oh, definitely,” Thundercracker replied, as Perceptor continued to brush away at the sand the obscured a mysterious tablet.

    “Ariel,” Perceptor called, excitement penetrating his voice, “come here, I think I've found something!”

    A slender, curvy magenta Cybertronian with a young, pink and white infant on her hip appeared from one of the many tents that had been set up nearby.

    “What is it, Perceptor?” she asked.

    “A slab! There appears to be writing on it, as well!”

    Thundercracker watched as Ariel approached, followed by the blue intern, Glyph, with the young Arcee in her arms. She looked the slab over as Perceptor finished removing the sand, thrust Arcee into Glyph's arms, and hurried back to one of the tents. Moments later, she returned, followed by Orion Pax, the leader of the expedition.

    “Well, Perceptor?” he said.

    “It appears to be ancient Cybertronix. If I'm correct, it gives the exact coordinates of the launching point, the exact trajectory, and the exact date!”

    “Wonderful!” Pax said, taking Arcee into his arms. “With this find, we might be able to finance new expeditions, even into the Great Rift!”

    “Lord Megatron will be overjoyed to hear this!” Thundercracker burst out. “I'm sure you all know how interested he is in this time period.”

    These words seemed to strike a chord with the others. Even little Arcee seemed to gape at him in shock.

    “Thundercracker,” Pax began, awkwardly, “I know that Megatron is a great leader. He's doing well with the war effort against the Quintessons. I'm sure... you admire him for that. But the truth is, Megatron can not be alerted to this find. He's a very rational being, but I'm afraid his hobby might turn to obsession.”

    Looking back now, Thundercracker thought that Pax- Prime was right. Maybe Megatron wasn't the great leader he'd known of in his younger days. The careless slaughter of the sentient beings on this planet seemed to say so.

    But still, Megatron had an ability to move others into action with his words like no other. He had charisma, that much was unquestionable. After all, he'd managed to maintain support for the Quintesson War back then, and he'd managed to convince much of Cybertron's population that Sentinel Prime and Alpha Trion were secretly working to undermine the government. That had been with this new War started. Thundercracker remembered the passion burning in his spark during those days. He'd felt so betrayed by Orion, who, not long after, had been chosen by the Matrix of Leadership as the next Prime.

    But even so, these were living, breathing, sentient creatures they were ruthlessly killing- no, murdering. They didn't seem to have any idea about Cybertron or the War, or even the Cybertronians themselves. So how were they supposed to be trying to frustrate the Decepticons' efforts?

    A vision of Optimus Prime appeared to Thundercracker. He found it impossible to meet his eyes.


    Spike panted breathlessly. “It's so hot,” he said, waving a sheet of paper in front of himself to bat away the heat.

    “I bet you wouldn't say that on Cybertron! I've been learning Earth's temperature measurements, and the average temperature back home is negative twenty degrees farenheight,” Bumblebee said, giving a chuckle.

    “Well, we're on earth, and we have an atmosphere to keep in the heat, motorbrain,” Spike replied.

    “Hey, my engine goes inside my chest when I transform, thank you.”

    “Well, could you at least crank up the a/c?”

    There was a low whisper, and cool air began to issue from the many vents in Bumblebee's dashboard.

    “Thank you.”

    There was a moment of silence before both car and driver burst into laughter, which subsided quickly when Carly came strolling from her front door in a T-shirt and jeans.

    “Hey, gorgeous!” Spike called out the window.

    Carly smiled as she stepped to the passenger door, and got in. “It is so hot today,” she said, positioning the vents so that the cold air blew across her skin.

    Bumblebee and Spike burst into laughter again.

    “What?” Carly asked.

    “Nothing,” Spike said, as Bumblebee rumbled to life and lurched forward.


    “My Lord,” came a voice from somewhere in the room.

    Megatron grumbled, irritated, as he awoke from his slumber. “What is it, Shockwave?”

    “A plan, if you will,” Shockwave replied, staring blankly back at his commander.

    Megatron was silent for a moment, considering. “Go ahead.”

    The bulky violet Decepticon seemed to smirk despite his lack of facial structure. “As you wish. Lord Megatron, we are here to obtain the Creation Matrix, are we not?”

    Megatron said nothing in reply.

    “And the one called Jetfire was aware of its location, correct?”

    “Supposedly, yes.”

    “Then why aren't we searching for him? We are we wasting time gathering energy to open the portal? The Creation Matrix possesses the energy to do that all on its own. We can search his memory banks; I do have the technology.”

    Megatron gave a verbal pause.

    “It's obvious where he's gone, isn't it? If you're mentioned in the Covenant, he must have gone to look for Optimus Prime. The Matrix of Leadership and the Covenant are both inherently linked to Primus, are they not? And if Jetfire has gone to seek help from the Autobots, we need only to find them. And Jetfire will be ours.”

    Megatron nodded, smirking. “Yes, you are quite right, Shockwave.” He tapped a button on this arm, bringing up a hologram of Soundwave.

    “Lord Megatron, how may I be of assistance?” Soundwave asked.

    “Tell me, Soundwave, have you managed to locate the Autobots' base yet? And have you made contact with our agent?”

    “Negative. Scans indicate jamming present over a confined area of a region known locally as California,” Soundwave answered.

    Megatron frowned. “And how is the progress with the Energon collection?”

    “Current status: 74%.”

    “Excellent. Continue.” With that, Megatron severed the link.

    He turned his attention back to Shockwave. “How do you propose we find the Autobots?”

    “We don't. They will come to us. We still possess the coordinates of the Autobots' human allies' dwellings, do we not?”

    Megatron smiled. “You're proposing we flush them out?”


    “Excellent work, Shockwave. It's time to end this war.”


    Optimus Prime stood tall, in front of the rest of his Autobots. Arcee and Elita One stood to one side, Jazz to the other. Next to Bumblebee, in the front row, stood Spike, Carly, and Chip. Raoul Lopez was standing nearby, next to Tracks. A platoon of Neo-Knights stood in grid formation beside the Autobots, with .

    “Autobots,” Prime began, “as your commander, I am placing us on high alert. I have intelligence from both Cybertron and the Neo-Knight command in Washington, D.C., that the Decepticons have returned to Earth. Starscream and his troops have taken over several oil platforms in the Gulf of Mexico, and a small group of Decepticons has occupied the nuclear power plant at Tokai, Japan.”

    The crowd murmured for a few moments. “Already?” Spike said aloud. Bumblebee's face turned grim.

    Optimus held up a hand, and the crowd immediately quieted. “I have placed Omega Supreme on stand-by. Perceptor and the crew of the Metroplex have been alerted. I am, however, not anticipating a full-scale invasion.”

    “We'll train twice as hard!” called out one of the Autobots, to which the rest cried out enthusiastically, the the crowd erupted into applause.

    “I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Optimus said, and crowd once again immediately fell silent, “but this is very serious. If the War comes to this planet, as I fear, it is my duty to protect its inhabitants.”

    Our duty!” Ironhide cried out, inciting more applause.

    “Thank you, old friend,” Optimus said, smiling gravely. “But any humans who wish to withdraw now may do so. Those who wish to fight may stay. It is almost time to reveal ourselves to the Earth anyway.”

    After another quarter of an hour, the crowd dissipated, leaving Bumblebee, Spike, and Carly, who waved at Chip as he went off with Ratchet to work on preparing defenses.

    Bumblebee approached Optimus tentatively. “Optimus...”

    “Yes, Bumblebee?”

    “Are they really coming back?”

    Optimus paused for a moment, his gaze traveling up and down the small yellow and black Autobot, and the two humans at his side. He shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, before finally answering: “Yes. Alpha Trion contacted me and informed me that Megatron had departed Cybertron in a transwarp cruiser with the bulk of the Decepticon forces. I may have to call in the rest of the Wreckers.”

    Bumblebee frowned. “Then I can't let Prowl's sacrifice be in vain. I will fight to the very end.”

    “I admire your courage, Bumblebee,” Prime replied.

    “Thank you, sir,” Bumblebee said, saluting, before turning and leaving with Spike and Carly in tow.

    Optimus's face turned grim. Bumblebee and the others could not bear the strain of everything Alpha Trion had said. Even as Prime, he had not had access to the Covenant of Primus. He'd been chosen at the dawn of the war, after all, but this demon sounded ominous.

    “Something wrong, Optimus?” Elita asked, placing her hand on Optimus's shoulder.

    Optimus sighed. “No.”


    The President of the United States sat in his office, reading over reports of the recent Decepticon activity.

    “Agent Korosky,” he said darkly, “how long do you think we have?”

    The agent, sitting across the room, with a briefcase on his lap, looked up. His eyes seemed to flash red as he opened his mouth to answer. “Not long.”
  6. Prime_Directive

    Prime_Directive less than meets the eye

    Feb 28, 2010
    News Credits:
    Trophy Points:
    Chapter 4
    “What do you think, Chromia?”

    “I don't know,” Chromia whispered. She lowered herself closer to the grassy ground.

    “I don't like it. Not one bit,” Ironhide grunted, staring, as of yet undetected, at the Decepticon moving far below, at the bottom of the valley. “It's awfully bold.”

    They were not far from Archer, much too close in Ironhide's opinion. Apparently, Optimus agreed, as he'd sent out a small reconnaissance team to monitor the Decepticon, who had been detected by Roller and Teletraan-1.

    “Ironhide to Jazz. Ironhide to Jazz. Do you copy?”

    “Jazz here,” came the reply over the communications frequency.

    “Any I.D. Yet?”

    “Sorry to say it, but no. Net yet.” Jazz sounded unusually cool.

    The mass of white and red below seemed to be scanning its surroundings, but apparently not for spark signatures.

    “Twins, what about you?”

    “Uh, no sir,” Sideswipe said.

    “Nada,” Sunstreaker added.

    “Well, he didn't respond to any Autobot frequencies. There shouldn't be any neutrals on this dirt pile.”

    Chromia shifted closer. “He doesn't seem hostile.”

    “How can we tell from here?” Ironhide said.

    “Look, he's taking care not to hurt anything.”

    Ironhide squinted, zooming in on the being. Sure enough, it seemed to be stepping around trees and over stumps. Every few seconds, it looked down at its feet as if making sure it wasn't squishing anything.

    “Weird. You'd think a 'con wouldn't give so much as a thought to the environment,” Jazz said. Ironhide glanced up, across the valley, at the hills on the other side, and was just able to make out Jazz's location because of the sun reflecting on his armor.

    “Hey, Ironhide?” Sunstreaker asked.


    “I don't think he's a Decepticon.”

    “What?!” Ironhide's eyes narrowed.

    “Look. There's no Decepticon symbol on his body,” Sunstreaker said.

    “Yeah. He's just white and red. No purple anywhere,” Sideswipe said.

    Chromia nodded where she laid sprawled against the ground. “The twins are right, Ironhide. Megatron would never let a Decepticon go without the brand.”

    “There's no sign of an Autobot brand on 'im, either,” Jazz said. “And just like you said, he ain't respondin' on any of the Autobot frequencies.”

    “Hmm... maybe he is a neutral, after all,” Ironhide wondered aloud.

    “We're about to find out,” Chromia said, vaulting into the air, transforming, and dropping into the valley. She stopped just short of the Cybertronian, and transformed back into her true form.

    “Chromia, wait!” Ironhide called, following after Chromia. Jazz, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker did the same, and all five Autobots came to rest in a semi-circle around the Cybertronian's front.

    Ironhide, and indeed the others, had to look up into his face. He was very bulky, and it seemed like he could easily take all five of them in a fist fight, but he seemed to lack any sort of long-ranged weaponry, and made no aggressive advances. In fact, he seemed to shrink slightly in front of them all.

    “A- are you the Autobots?” he asked.

    Ironhide took a firm step forward. “Yes. Who are you, and what are you doing on this planet? Optimus Prime has declared this planet off-limits to unauthorized personnel.”

    “I beg your forgiveness, but my name is Jetfire, and I was lost on this planet a long time ago. Megatron tells me-” At the name, all five Autobots recoiled slightly- “that I've been missing for thousands of years.” Jetfire's voice was quite grim.

    “What were you doing with Megatron, huh!?” Sideswipe and Sunstreaker shouted in unison, brandishing their swords threateningly.

    “Hey, hey, simmer down, simmer down!” Jazz said, gesturing for the twins to lower their weapons, to which they complied.

    “I apologize. It was Megatron, or rather the Decepticons, that recovered my body and reactivated me. I don't remember much at all, but I do know that I must speak with Optimus Prime.”

    “I dunno,” Ironhide grumbled, eyeing Jetfire suspiciously. “It's an awful tall tale...”

    “I must be allowed to speak with Optimus Prime, because Megatron is here searching for the Creation Matrix-”

    “We know,” Chromia said.

    “-And he may know where it is.”

    Looks of shock and horror spread across the Autobots' faces. Ironhide nodded gravely. “We'll take you to Optimus.”


    Megatron stared at a live view-screen of the stars outside from in his quarters. He stood completely still, hands locked behind his back. His optics reflected on the window, two red glares in the void.

    The War would be ending soon; was it all worth it? He could see clearly, as if it had happened only yesterday, the darkened interior of the entrance hall to the Palace of Primes, saw the red, black, and gold figure of Sentinel Prime himself enter, before turning gray as the doors shut behind him. Megatron concealed himself in the darkness just inside a doorway, and pounced the moment Sentinel was within range, extending his claws and shredding Prime's armor.

    “Megatron!” Sentinel gasped, trying to push Megatron away, but Megatron's resolve was too great.

    “Give me the Matrix of Leadership, Sentinel Prime!” Megatron screamed.

    Oil poured from Sentinel Prime's body like blood, and electricity crackled between torn wiring. But Sentinel Prime smiled, almost laughed, and coughed. “It's not here.”

    “WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?” Megatron bellowed, punching a hole through Sentinel's weakened armor.

    Sentinel coughed violently, and oil landed on Megatron's face. “I don't have it anymore.” Sentinel smiled, and, with that, the light in his optics faded along with the sparks, and Sentinel Prime died.

    Megatron hesitated before tearing open Sentinel's chest. Just as he'd said, the Matrix of Leadership was absent. The words seemed to well up in his throat but were trapped there. “No...” he finally managed.

    “No...” he repeated. And Megatron clamped his mouth shut tight as remorse poured from his spark. “No... DAMN YOU, WHERE IS IT!?”

    Megatron sat back and placed his face in his hands. “You wouldn't've had to die if you weren't hiding it from me,” he whispered. “Cybertron must be restored to its former glory.”

    Suddenly, Megatron was pulled back to the present by a knock at his door. He turned, commanding, “Enter!”

    The airlock door hissed open and Soundwave appeared there, bowing low, before rising and proceeding into the chamber, the door shutting behind him.

    “Ah, Soundwave. Have the energy preparations been completed?” Megatron asked.

    “Status: 95%,” Soundwave replied coldly.

    “And the virus?”

    “76% of human artificial satellites infected. Proposal: acquire more Energon for invasion plans.”

    “But of course. When the time comes. But for now, Soundwave, you've done a good job. Now prepare the Seekers, the Stunticons, and the Combaticons. I want them battle-ready in fifteen minutes. You and Shockwave are to stay on-board. And tell the pilots to set course for Archer, California,” Megatron commanded.

    “As you command, Lord Megatron.” Soundwave turned and exited.

    Megatron turned to stare again at the cosmos beyond the confines of the Nemesis. “Cybertron must be restored to its former glory, no matter the cost.”


    Optimus stared at the screen of Teletraan-1, as Roller tapped in a series of coordinates. “The echo came from here,” he explained, “the sky above Antarctica. I believe that this is where the Decepticon ship is. Or, at least, was.”

    “Very good, Roller. See if you can keep an eye on them while we make our preparations,” Optimus said.

    “Yes, sir,” Roller replied.

    Optimus stepped from the platform that was his disguise's trailer, to see the hangar door open and Ironhide's team hurry through with another Cybertronian with them.

    “Ironhide? Your patrol isn't over yet. What brings you here?” Optimus said.

    “Forgive me, Optimus, but this- uh, Jetfire, has an urgent message for-” Ironhide began.

    “I'm in a bad spot, here, Optimus!” G. B. Blackrock interrupted as he came through the door to the Neo-Knights' quarters. “Between funding this whole operation and the attacks on my assets, I'm going to go broke within the month!” He looked up from a sheet of paper and abruptly stopped.

    “Uh, hello...” he said.

    Jetfire smiled and nodded in return. “Greetings. You are the first modern native inhabitant of this planet I have encountered in person. It is a pleasure, despite the circumstances.”

    “Circ- circumstances?” Blackrock stuttered.

    “Yes.” Jetfire's manner turned grim again: he straightened himself to his impressive full height and looked Optimus straight in the eyes. “Are you Optimus Prime?”

    “What's wrong with him?” Sunstreaker whispered to Sideswipe, who shrugged.

    “He's just got the jitters. Not many giants around base, after all,” Jazz replied.

    Optimus nodded, looking up at Jetfire's face. “I am.”

    “My name is Jetfire, and I was lost on a scientific expedition thousands of year ago,” Jetfire explained, for what Optimus could tell was not the first time.

    Optimus couldn't hide the fact that this news surprised him. “Jetfire? Our searches were called off millenia ago. We thought you lost.”

    “I was, Optimus Prime, I was,” and Jetfire began to explain the entire situation to the Autobot leader.

    A few minutes later, when Jetfire had finished, Optimus nodded. “I see. The situation is even graver than I thought, then. Ironhide, Jazz, contact the Metroplex and the shipyard in Africa. Tell the Technobots that we'll need to be leaving as soon as possible. I want Metroplex off the West Coast in twenty-four hours. There's no doubt Megatron will be bringing Trypticon along for the ride.”

    “Yes, sir!” Jazz and Ironhide called out, before heading deeper into the base, toward the communications rooms.


    “Man, can you believe all this? Decepticons coming here?!” Raoul Lopez cried, clutching the straps of his backpack.

    “Dude, shut up,” Spike warned him. “Top-secret, remember?” he added through gritted teeth.

    Carly let out an irritated sigh. Chip looked away uncomfortably.

    But it didn't seem that anybody had paid any attention to what Raoul had said. Everybody was too busy shuffling out of the hallways and out of the school. The bell had rung only moments earlier, and Raoul had come hurrying up to the three of them, attaching himself to them.

    “Sorry, sorry,” Raoul said. “You know, this could be the end of the world, Carly-”

    “Don't even think about it,” Carly said.

    “Don't even think about it!” came a mocking voice.

    Spike could hear Carly growl as she looked up. Astoria Carlton-Ritz stood there, her hands on her hips, tapping her foot, a smirk on her face.

    “Like you'd even think first!” Astoria hissed.

    “Get your oversized snout out of other peoples' business, Astoria!” Carly shot back.

    “Snout?” Astoria said, taken aback. “My nose isn't that big!”

    “Move along, kids,” a teacher warned, standing in her doorway.

    “Yes, ma'am,” the all replied. Astoria cast a vicious glare at them before storming away.

    A few minutes later, Spike, Chip, Carly, and Raoul had left the building to find Jazz parked in the space Bumblebee usually occupied.

    “Jazz? What's going on?” Spike said, lowering himself to the open driver's-side window.

    “Bumblebee and Tracks are out on patrol. Optimus told me to get all of you guys home,” Jazz answered. “Hop in.”

    Jazz popped his trunk open, and Spike helped Chip into the back seat before folding his wheelchair up and storing it in the trunk and climbing into the driver's seat. Carly climbed in next to him, and Raoul next to Chip.

    The windows all rolled up, and Jazz backed out of his parking spot.

    “Optimus wanted me to tell you that we're leaving. All of us,” Jazz said.

    “WHAT!?” all four cried out at once.

    “See, we met up with this old-school dude that knows where the Creation Matrix is. The Neo-Knights are gearing up to go with us to get it, and then we're goin' to the launch port in Africa. Old Blackrock said he's happy that he doesn't have to keep up with that park of his now. You know how much money he spent on animatronics so he could keep the Ark secret?”

    “But what about the Decepticons? Surely they won't just give up when you leave the planet!” Chip said.

    “That's right. But Boss-bot doesn't want to risk any more human lives, dig? Too many people died in Los Angeles.”

    “Oh, man, you're all leaving? Even Tracks!?” Raoul said, his voice cracking.

    “Yeah. All of us.”


    Starscream stood in the hangar of the Nemesis, pacing back and forth. Thundercracker watched with mild interest. What was Starscream planning now?

    Soundwave appeared from a corridor and strode toward Starscream, and apparently said something that Thundercracker couldn't overhear.

    Then: “WHAT!? We're headed to Archer now!?” Starscream seemed like he'd nearly just exploded.

    “No, no, no, no, no!” Starscream shouted, rushing over to the airlock hangar door controls. Before anyone could stop him, the massive doors were sliding open, and wind was whipping through the hangar, startling many of the Decepticons inside.

    Starscream leapt into the air, transformed, and shot through the doors into the night.

    “Starscream!” Thundercracker shouted. What was he thinking?

    But before Thundercracker could take off in pursuit, the doors were shut again.


    “He WHAT!?” Megatron screamed.

    Thundercracker flinched a little, but neither Soundwave nor Shockwave seemed to have the slightest fear in them.

    “That fool is going to ruin everything!” Megatron said. He paced back and forth, hands behind his back. “He must really have a deathwish tonight!”

    “Lord Megatron, might I suggest we send the Seekers after him? It's only logical to assume that Starscream is on a direct heading for Archer, California. After all, he's spoken of usurping you since the beginning of the movement, and what better way to do that than by retrieving the Creation Matrix himself?” Shockwave said.

    “Yes, Shockwave, you're right,” Megatron said, stopping and turning to look at the three Decepticons standing before him.

    “Thundercracker,” Megatron said.

    “Yes, my Lord?” Thundercracker said.

    “I want you to lead the Seekers to Starscream. Just keep an eye on him. If he tries to make any trouble, I want him back here alive,” Megatron instructed.

    “Yes, sir,” Thundercracker answered.

    “Now, return to your posts!” Megatron ordered.

    The three Decepticons turned to leave Megatron's quarters. Something in Shockwave's single eye looked wrong to Thundercracker, but he simply shrugged it off. He had orders to carry out, after all.
  7. doworkson123

    doworkson123 Well-Known Member

    Feb 12, 2011
    Trophy Points:
    this is cools stuff man
  8. Prime_Directive

    Prime_Directive less than meets the eye

    Feb 28, 2010
    News Credits:
    Trophy Points:
    Sorry for the late reply, but thank you very much! It's taken forever, but here's the next chapter!

    Chapter 5
    The low rumble of a jet's engines in the distance was the first thing Spike Witwicky heard as his eyes fluttered open. He yawned, stretching and rubbing his eyes, before looking over at the green LED display of his alarm clock. 6:57.

    “What the heck,” he muttered to himself, climbing out of bed. He had three minutes left anyway.

    He showered, dressed himself, and went down to breakfast.


    “Brawn, get that stuff out of the way! If it's still there when Wheeljack tries to bridge in, we'll all be blown halfway to Cybertron!” Ironhide bellowed. Brawn gave him a dirty look and simply knocked down one of the metal walls that made up the Autobots' training maze. “Don't you take that attitude with me! Pick it up and do it right!”

    “Ease up, Ironhide. We're all a little anxious,” Jazz said, patting Ironhide on the shoulder. “Brawn's just been yankin' at his chain and lickin' his chops, ready to get at some Decepticreeps, is all.”

    “I know, but whatever Wheeljack's bringing is very important, according to Optimus. And a potential planet-busting explosion isn't my idea of a good time,” Ironhide said, shrugging.

    “Ironhide,” came Ratchet's voice. Ironhide spun on his heel to see the medic walking toward him from the corridor leading off to the medical bay.

    “What do you need?” Ironhide replied.

    “I've been conferring with Roller, and he says that Teletraan-1's sensors indicate a Decepticon presence near Archer. Optimus says he needs you to alert Bumblebee and his team. And Jazz, he said you should go into the city and monitor the children again. He has some very important business to attend to, and cannot be disturbed at the moment,” Ratchet explained.

    “Right on,” Jazz said, transforming and roaring out the hangar door, which opened and closed automatically.

    “What about you, Ratchet?” Ironhide asked.

    “I'm to stay here and monitor the preparations,” Ratchet answered.

    “All right,” Ironhide said, turning and heading toward the communications room.



    The gleaming expanse of the metal planet went on seemingly to infinity below. The rivers of Energon flowed powerfully to the Great Chasm, where they reached the core of the planet and were thrust up to the planet's surface again in a never-ending cycle.

    Optimus Prime swooped down to the planet's surface with greater speed than the physical realm would have allowed.

    He found himself at the Palace of Primes, which was completely empty. It seemed as if war had not touched this version of Cybertron, but, for whatever reason, all life on the planet had vanished. He entered cautiously.

    “Is anyone there?” Optimus called out, hearing nothing in reply but his own echo.

    Optimus continued from the entrance hall, into the Hall of the Matrix, where the likenesses of every Cybertronian to be named Prime was recorded upon their deaths.

    It was dimly lit, the only light coming from the miniscule overhead lights that illuminated the portraits of the Primes.

    And then something spoke.

    “Optimus,” it called simply.

    Optimus whirled to the source of the sound, finding his own predecessor's portrait speaking to him.

    “Sentinel...” Optimus said.

    “Why have you come here, Optimus Prime?” Sentinel's likeness asked. Optimus could now hear light murmuring amongst the other Primes.

    “I need your guidance, Sentinel,” Optimus replied.

    “You require no such thing,” Sentinel responded. “But, if it is my counsel you seek, I will grant it.” Sentinel Prime stepped from his portrait, taking form as if he'd simply been standing behind the wall. “Now tell me, what concerns you?”

    “Megatron's war,” Optimus said. “It has moved from Cybertron to another world, populated by small organic beings, and now threatens them just as much as it threatens us.”

    “You have said it yourself many times, Optimus. Freedom is the right of all sentient beings. It is your duty as Prime to protect them just as much as it is your duty to protect your brothers and the Matrix of Leadership,” Sentinel said.

    “But that is not all,” Optimus said. “Emirate Xaaron has had a vision. He told me that, 'the Dark is coming', and that my time, 'is ending'.”

    “The Dark...” Sentinel repeated. “I do not know. Unicron is not moving.”

    “But if my time is ending...” Optimus said. “I'm not sure I can combat whatever is threatening Earth.”

    “Optimus, the time of all Primes ends eventually. You have held the Matrix for over fifty thousand solar cycles, quite the long reign,” Sentinel said. “But I do know this: some day, an Autobot will rise from your ranks and use the power of the Matrix to light Cybertron's darkest hour. That day is much closer now than it ever was when I held the Matrix.”

    Optimus considered Sentinel's words. If that were true, what could this darkness be, if not Unicron?

    “Thank you, Sentinel. From here, I must investigate further on my own,” Optimus said.

    Sentinel nodded, stepping back into his portrait. “You are welcome, friend. And do not forget that we are all here, should you ever need our assistance.”


    "Bumblebee, this is Ironhide. Do you copy?" Bumblebee's radio crackled.

    "I hear you loud and clear, Ironhide," Bumblebee answered. Ahead of him was nothing but trees, and the road splitting them down the middle.

    "Be advised: we have evidence of Decepticon activity near Archer. But whoever it is is cloaking his energy signature, so we can't tell who, or pinpoint his location. Be on the lookout. I've already warned Arcee, Tracks, and the Twins."

    "Thanks, Ironhide," Bumblebee said. "I'll keep an eye out. Bumblebee out."


    “Starscream...” Thundercracker spat as he raced across the skies with his teammates in tow. What was he thinking, running off like that? Did he really think he could hope to overpower the Autobots alone?


    Optimus did not like what he was seeing.

    All around him, rust blew through the air, kicked up by the wind. The sky above him was reddened by it, and the sun was nowhere to be found in it.

    He felt like he was being watched, but every time he scanned the desert around him, he found nothing. Yet he still felt a very sinister presence.

    He could recall that it had been written, “And they will arise from eternal desolation, stirred into life by their treacherous master, the servant of their creator.”

    Whatever this place was, eternal desolation described it perfectly in Prime's mind.

    There was a crackling behind him. He spun around, finding a creature so horrifying Optimus found himself barely able to look at it directly. The creature rose from the rust, as pieces of some ruddy material cracked away from its joints.

    It resembled what the humans called demons. It had sharp claws hanging from long, slender hands, and its legs had inverted knees that bent backwards. Broad wings hung from both shoulders. It was shorter than he was, but it stood with a hunch. The face glared at him with glowing red eyes.

    He immediately knew what it was. Or at least, had once been.

    Wherever it was the Matrix had brought him after he had left the Palace of Primes, he did not wish to stay any longer. He understood that this monster was a threat, whatever it was now.

    He turned suddenly, to find more of the monsters standing behind him. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. More than he could possibly fight off alone.

    But they didn't seem to be interested in him. They obviously knew he was there, but they didn't attack.

    And then light came pouring down onto the land, and Optimus looked up to see a hole in the sky. The ground beneath his feet began to shake violently, and his audio sensors were overpowered by the excited screeching of the creatures as they took to the air, disappearing through the hole.

    And then Optimus Prime was thrust back into his chamber in the Autobots' base. He was on his hands and knees.

    The airlock door hissed open, and Elita One entered, visibly concerned. “Optimus? What happened? What's wrong?”

    “Elita... We have doomed this planet... And my time is running out,” Optimus said.


    The distant rumble of jet engines was all that broke the silence in the classroom. Spike was boredly gazing at the words in his history text book, turning the page every few minutes so it looked like he was actually reading. But he was too tired to give any effort, and had decided he'd do it once he got home that afternoon.

    The morning had been fairly uneventful, aside from Jazz once again appearing in Bumblebee's place. Despite the threat of the Decepticons, Optimus had wanted Spike, Carly, Chip, and Raoul to go to school that day. Jazz said that the reason for this was the element of surprise. Optimus wanted the Decepticons to think that the Autobots weren't onto them, because if they knew, the Decepticons would have no reason to not simply destroy the entire city. And then, once they'd arrive, the Autobots would lure them away from the city, and stage an ambush.

    It seemed sound in Spike's mind. After all, there was no doubt Megatron would want to recapture Jetfire in order to extract the location of the Creation Matrix.

    He noticed one of his classmates staring out the window at something. Several more left their seats to join him. His curiosity getting the better of him, Spike joined them as well.

    “Oh no...” he said, his eyes going wide.

    Barreling out of the clouds directly toward the school was a light gray Raptor with red and blue markings. Starscream.

    Spike had to draw attention to the situation. He had to alert the Autobots, the Neo-Knights, everybody! He turned and dodged around desks, hurrying out of the room. The teacher stood up to protest, but the door shut on her words.

    Spike could hear Starscream roar by just overhead, evidently only feet from the school's roof. He looked up and down the hallway for a tiny red box mounted on the wall. Finding one about twenty feet away, he ran to it. It read, in large white letters at the top, “Fire Alarm”, and beneath that, in smaller letters, “Pull to activate.” Next to it, a paper warning of the consequences of pulling the alarm when there was no fire. He ignored it, flipped up the plastic cover, and pulled the tiny lever down as hard as he could.

    Immediately, a shrill, buzzing alarm began to sound all over the school. Students and teachers began to leave their classrooms in confusion, meandering painfully slowly along pre-designated escape routes.

    Spike's head jerked back and forth as he scanned the crowd for Carly. After what felt like half an hour, he spotted her, one of the last to leave her classroom. He pushed through the crowds to her, grabbed her by the hand, and began to pull her in the opposite direction of everybody else.

    “How long has it been since we've had a fire drill?” he shouted over the alarm and the crowd

    “What's going on?” Carly asked.

    Spike was about to answer, when Chip rolled up beside them. “Spike, it's Starscream!”

    “I know!” Spike said. His heart was racing, his earlier tiredness now replaced with adrenaline and a sense of urgency.

    Starscream made another pass above, and Spike could hear students screaming as they rushed to get out of the school.

    “We have to get to Jazz!” Spike said.

    There were stairs at the end of the hall behind them, leading to a set of doors at the end of the hall below, which was where most of the students and teachers on this hall would be heading, but that was out of the question. If Starscream recognized them, he'd surely try to stop them from reaching any Autobot help, and that was too long a stretch to run to the parking lot.

    Spike dug his phone from his pocket. No signal. He replaced it and began heading toward the second-floor lobby.

    The lobby was completely clear of people. They heard the tell-tale sound of Starscream transforming, and then the crash of him landing somewhere nearby, on top of the school.

    “WITWICKY!” Starscream cried. “WITWICKY, COME OUT OF THERE!”

    “He knows we're here,” Carly said.

    Spike said nothing, only grabbing Chip and lifting him onto his back, and carrying him down the main staircase. Carly dragged his wheelchair behind her.

    “I'm sorry I slow you guys down so much,” Chip said. “It really sucks having no working legs.”

    “Are you worried about what Astoria said?” Carly said. “Don't listen to her!”

    “Come on! We don't have the time, Chip!” Spike said, placing Chip back in his chair at the bottom of the stairs.

    “Just let me hide! I'll be fine!” Chip said, wheeling off toward the main office.

    “Be careful!” Carly called after him.

    “Let's go,” Spike said, dashing toward the front doors. Jazz was nowhere to be seen, however, but Spike could now hear the sounds of weaponfire.

    And then Starscream crashed to the ground outside the doors, grinning as he looked up and saw them. “There you are!” he said, smashing through the glass doors with his arm, reaching into the building.

    Spike and Carly turned and ran deeper into the school. Starscream swiped at them from behind, trying to grab them, to no avail.

    They found themselves in the lunchroom. Outside the cafeteria doors, they saw Jazz, who immediately began gesturing at them to run toward him. Just before they reached the glass doors, Starscream swooped down and swatted Jazz away before smashing through the glass and climbing into the cafeteria. He hunched over, his head banging against the twenty-foot ceiling.

    He smirked. “Well, at last, we meet again,” Starscream said, taking a step forward.

    Spike looked up into Starscream's face, feeling his heart pounding in his throat. Carly was clutching his hand so hard it hurt.

    “Now, you're going to come along with me, and I'm going to be trading you to the Autobots,” Starscream said. “And I will rule Cybertron!” Starscream cackled.

    Spike didn't see any other possibility, so he turned and began to run again, with Carly right behind him.

    “Oh no you don't!” Starscream shouted, tossing a table in front of them, which they both tripped over. Starscream pulled himself further inside.

    “No!” Spike yelled.

    And then a yellow and black blur raced across the cafeteria, firing off several shots at Starscream, who recoiled in pain.

    “Get away from them!” Bumblebee shouted.

    “Who's going to make me?” Starscream hissed, batting Bumblebee away with his arm. Bumblebee crashed through the wall and collapsed to the ground out of sight.

    “BUMBLEBEE!” Spike screamed.

    “Come with me if you want to live!” someone said. Spike looked up, and saw Arcee standing just behind them, reaching down for them.

    There was another crash, and Spike looked over to see the Twins shoot into the cafeteria, transform, and wield their blades in perfectly-synchronized combat against Starscream, but he swatted them aside, too.

    “Come on!” Arcee demanded, transforming into her vehicular form. Spike and Carly leapt inside, and barely had time to sit down before Arcee gunned her engine and zoomed off, out of the cafeteria and through the smashed glass front doors.

    Spike twisted around in the passenger seat to see Sideswipe and Sunstreaker just behind them, followed by Bumblebee. Jazz quickly joined them.

    The entire area around the school had erupted into chaos: several cars in the parking lot had been destroyed, and people were rushing for cover everywhere.

    “I've contacted headquarters. The big guns oughtta be here soon,” Jazz said over the radio.

    Starscream rocketed over the school in his jet form, and transformed, smashing into the ground just in front of Arcee, who skidded to a halt, spilling Spike and Carly from her interior, and transformed.

    The five Autobots facing Starscream didn't seem to stand much of a chance, but Spike wanted to believe they could fight him off.

    Arcee leapt nimbly over Starscream, firing shots into his armor with her dual pistols. Bumblebee charged, his plasma blaster firing bolts of white-hot matter. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker danced around Starscream's attacks. Jazz sped around him and climbed onto his back, delivering several punches to the back of his head.

    But Starscream grabbed Jazz and hurled him into the Twins, and fired a missile directly in front of Bumblebee, sending him flying backwards. Finally, he managed to kick Arcee away as well, sending her crashing into the defeated pile of Autobots.

    A fire had apparently sparked inside one of the cars and had quickly spread to several others.

    “Now,” Starscream said, turning his attention to Spike and Carly, “how many more Autobots do you have stashed up your sleeves?”

    “All of them!” came the answer. Spike turned to see Ironhide burst through the flames, firing a seemingly endless stream of missiles at Starscream from one cannon, and pulses of plasma from the other.