Beast Wars Zero

Part I:

The Best Laid Plans

Megatron sullenly stood there as the elevator began its long decent through the Predacon Citadel. The overbearing general leaned back against the heavy glass wall which gave a spectacular view of Crystalline Macross, the center hub for the mostly Predacon populated city known as Kobalt Chromina. His highly polished broad frame glistened in the single overhead light that was provided by the ceiling's lighting fixture in the elevator. Megatron was religiously fanatical about keeping his appearance superb; the nano-cleansing made his battle scars more visible to those around him, especially those who questioned his devotion to the Predacons. To the proud Predacon general, these scars were his medals; they were symbols of the respect that he has fought for and earned from his subordinates and the Tripredacus itself. Megatron's underlings and inner circle completely understood his reasoning for proudly displaying the scars of war; to be a Predacon meant that you must earn respect through survival, and Megatron believed that he was, above all else, a survivor.

Megatron glanced over at the other figure standing opposite of him in the elevator. The tall black Predacon stood there with his arms crossed and silently stared at the door, refusing to acknowledge Megatron's presence at all. The figure, completely colored in black with deep red stripes along the length of his arms and legs, could feel Megatron's optics scanning over his frame throughout the entire ride.

A smirk came over Megatron's face as he began to recognize the Predacon standing next to him. He rubbed his chin as he leisurely leaned there and spoke in a cold, yet calculated, tone. "You're Atrocity, yes?"

The black figure gave no response to Megatron's inquiry. The tall Predacon stood perfectly still as Megatron approached the figure.

"Yes," Megatron said deeply. "You are Atrocity. A Predacon of your . . . caliber is easily recognizable indeed." Megatron walked around the hulking figure and intently glared at the Predacon. "I assure you that you are truly a steadfast figure of power."

Completely disgusted with the sniveling comments from Megatron, the Predacon turned to face him. Unlike most other Transformers, this Predacon had no color to his optics; they were completely black. "Do not think that I am blind to your treachery and ulterior motives, Megatron," the Predacon said in a bitter and deliberate manner. "A Predacon of your fashion does not go unnoticed either." The Predacon stepped back and looked directly down into Megatron's optics. "The illustrious 'Megatron,' as you have so eloquently dubbed yourself. According to your tech-files at Iacon, you consider it to be a 'tribute' to the father of the ancient Decepticon faction, am I correct?"

Megatron nodded at the brooding figure and smiled. "Yes," he replied. Megatron placed his hands over his chest. "I'm truly flattered that a Predacon of your stature took the time to scan my files. Yes. You are a true master of the art of warfare." Megatron took another step closer to his fellow Predacon and looked up into his optics. "And it is Atrocity, correct?"

"Correct," he replied.

"The Tripredacus thinks highly of you," Megatron added. "Yes. There are even rumors amongst the 'lowly' masses of you joining the council." Megatron's smile broadened. "Tell me, is there any truth to that?" he asked. "It's highly unlikely that the members of the Tripredacus are seeking applicants to replace themselves."

Atrocity faced the door again and waited for the elevator to stop. "You babble on like an idiot, Megatron," Atrocity stated sharply in an effort to squish Megatron's conspiracy theory. "And here I am, thinking that you were far above such petty games and childish gossip." He looked up and saw that the elevator was reaching the bottom of the Citadel. "I'm truly touched by our conversation today, Megatron," Atrocity said sarcastically. "Unfortunately, this is my stop."

"Ironic," Megatron replied. "This is where I get off as well."

The door slid open and revealed the base of the Predacon Citadel. The floor to the level was dismal and gray; the polish had been worn off by the many footsteps of Predacons who went about their cyclical routines. The lights were dim and continuously flickered as technicians became frustrated with fixing the machinery yet again; Cybertron was still experiencing energy routing difficulties even after the Autobots reformatted the routing tubes throughout the planet.

Such was the dreary and mundane life of those who called themselves Predacons; each one was secretly resentful of the lifestyle that both the Autobots and Maximals had enjoyed. This was the reasoning behind the rise and reformation of the Predacons, mainly composed of the surviving members of the Predacon faction that managed to adapt to life after the war with the Dread. Many Predacons who were created after the Autobot/ Decepticon Alliance (the signing of the Cybertronia Pax Covenant) and took their heritage seriously, such as Megatron did, considered themselves to directly be descendants of the Decepticons and that it was their right to rule Cybertron.

"Disgusting" Megatron exclaimed as he walked past the struggling technicians. "We strive to better the existence of our people and what do we get in the end?" He paused for a moment as he shook his head in aggravation. "Nothing Yes, nothing at all!" Megatron rubbed the temple of his head and looked down the hallway. "I did not sacrifice my existence only to be treated like downtrodden vermin! Insecticons were treaded better than we are!"

Atrocity walked over to Megatron and looked at the technicians working on the power grid. "This is our existence," he said. "And you are correct; we should not settle for a life such as this." The black Predacon walked over to the workers and knelt down to help them. "We should not struggle for the same accommodations that the Maximals enjoy." He fixed the circuitry grid with his laser scalpel in his right index finger and the hall lights instantly came on with a few sparks from each bulb. "The Maximal Elders have stifled us with their hollow words and promises of equality, and we get nothing."

A Predacon walked over to both Atrocity and Megatron. "So what are we gonna do about that?" he asked. "It's not like the Tripredacus is doin' much about it."

Megatron squinted and glared at the wall. "Yes," he remarked. "They do nothing at all." He turned and looked down the hallway where the Tripredacus Chamber of Council was. "It is time that we address our situation with our 'wise' statesmen."


Tarantulas cracked his knuckles as the Tripredacus Council paused for a moment to consider the long-term ramifications of the actions that they were about to take. The Predacon scientist finally saw the opportunity that he had been waiting for since his awakening from the void of his long slumber. Deep within his spark, Tarantulas feared that they would not reach an agreement about his proposition, but he drooled over the possibilities that loomed in the foreseeable future.

Finally, after all this waiting, I can begin anew he thought to himself. I've kept this pitiful charade going for far too long, but that has finally paid off. Tarantulas smiled realizing that he had now fed the council enough information into manipulating them into the position that he had long desired. Just one more thing left to do.

The first member of the Tripredacus turned to face Tarantulas. "And so you believe that he should be dealt with?" he asked the Predacon.

A look of deep concern came over Tarantulas's face. "Indeed, exalted one." Arrogant bastards he thought. The other two members of the Tripredacus leaned on their table and looked down at Tarantulas. "If he is to continue with the direction that he is heading, then we, as a Predacon race, will severely be hampered in our efforts to complete our ultimate goal. What we need is subterfuge and deception, and he jeopardizes that with his idiotic ramblings of a civil war."

"And how are we to ensure that he will no longer pose a threat to our objectives?" the second member asked. "We do not possess the ability to deal with a situation like this."

"I agree," the last member said in a strong tone. "Many Predacons buy into his theories of 'divine right' to inherit Cybertron; they think that it somehow gives them a sense of purpose." He paused for a moment and looked at the other two members. "Should we deal with him, then there would surely be an outcry from many of the lower cast of our breed thereby creating suspicion from the Maximal Council of Elders."

Tarantulas smiled again. "Why, let the Maximals handle it of course." Tarantulas stepped toward the elevated podium where the Tripredacus was seated. "They do nothing but go on about how meddlesome some of the renegade generals are. This truce will provide us with the opportunity to be rid of that overbearing buffoon." The Predacon scientist smiled behind his mandibles and rubbed his hands together. "In exchange for our own ability to govern ourselves, all we have to do is provide them with the Predacon who's decided to make this 'difference in governing philosophy' his own personal war."

"His actions are detrimental to our goals," the center placed member of the council said to the other two. "Perhaps it is time that we dealt with him for the ability to proceed with our own schedule of events."

Indeed Tarantulas thought. Soon father. Soon enough.


Megatron reached the thick bulkhead door that led into the Tripredacus chamber. The Predacon symbol was deeply engraved on the door and painted a very light green. Megatron looked at the door just beyond the Ultra-con guard who was there to provide protection for the Tripredacus Council during their assemblies. Megatron looked up at the towering guard and put on his best smile.

"So Thug," Megatron said slyly. "I assume that the Tripredacus is busy at the moment."

The tall, green Predacon nodded in agreement with Megatron. "I'm aware of your scheduled conference with the members, Megatron." He pointed to a bench on the side of the wall. "Now take a seat. They'll be done soon enough."

Megatron walked over to the bench and brushed off the dust before he sat down. He did not like the fact that he was being ordered around by a lowly security guard, especially by one of the throwback Ultra-cons who were employed by the Tripredacus in an effort to scare the rest of the Predacons into following their orders.

As he sat there on the bench, Megatron leaned over, glanced at the floor, and kicked the ground.

Damn.


Megatron stood there next to the other two Predacon generals that were summoned to the Tripredacus chamber. He stepped forward and walked toward the levitating podium where the three members of the Tripredacus Council sat. All three members of the Council looked at the three gathered Predacons who stood there silently.

"We're pleased with the fact that each of you took the time to put your 'personal agendas' aside and make it to this meeting," the first members said sarcastically as he clasped his hands together. His frame was red and glistened in the lighting. His elbows, knees, and other joints had white coloring on them. His face had white markings as well which colored underneath his eyes and on the bridge of his nose. "Although it has taken us quite a significant amount of time, we've finally reached a tentative settlement which ensures that the Maximals will allow us the ability to finally govern ourselves."

Megatron sneered as the words came out of the council member; he could tell that his tone was belittling him and his two Predacon comrades. The mere thought of Maximal acceptance for him and his peers disgusted him completely. "Repulsive," he remarked letting the Tripredacus know that he did not care for their politics.

All three members of the Tripredacus Council immediately looked directly at Megatron. "And what exactly does that mean, Megatron?" the green council member asked. He was slim and had a single yellow visor that covered his optics. There were two transparent wings that he had folded behind his back to be able to sit down. "We had hoped that with the new 'arrangement' the animosity that we hold against the Maximals would be brushed aside; you no longer need to put yourself and your troops into harm's way."

Megatron smiled and looked up at the members of the Council. He saw this as the opportunity that he needed to plead his case for a full-on revolution against the Maximals for Predacon equality. He rubbed his hands together and carefully began to orchestrate the speech that he had been preparing for over half of his existence.

"For too long we have been oppressed by our 'better-half' Maximal siblings. Our Predacon brothers and sisters squander their lives vainly attempting to make our accommodations better while the Maximals sit back and enjoy the splendors of their existence." He turned to face his peers standing behind him. "We've fought and leaked orn after orn to make our lives better, and constantly our efforts are always hampered by the 'righteous' Maximals and their hypocritical belief of superiority; they preach equality on one orn and practice subjugation on the other. How dare they think that they have the right to dictate the future! Our future!" He turned and faced the Tripredacus Council. "This is outrageous! We bow to their wishes afraid of what consequences we may have to endure. You pass empty legislation that allows us to cower in the depths of the city and hide in the lowest parts of Cybertron. We should not have to scour the dismal parts of Cybertron in order to survive. This must change, and it must do so now!" He walked behind the two Predacons who were standing on the floor with him. "Our race needs a voice of power, of understanding, and of revolution!"

The three members looked at each other and smiled. "Please continue, Megatron," the green member said as he waived his hands in front of him. "I'm sure that we all want to hear your historical point of view on how 'incompetent' we are and have been."

"Yes," Megatron replied. He pointed to the council members who sat back in their chairs. He made it clear that he was addressing them as a complete group, addressing nobody in particular. "You should want to hear this because you have done absolutely nothing but continuously stagnate our growth as a species! While we do naught, we suffer! There is no possible excuse for why we need to cower like uneducated protoforms. This administration needs to be dissolved! And it needs to be done so now!" Megatron turned to face his two peers again. "Both of you know how it is. We command troops that fear political punishment from a government that we have not elected! We lead soldiers and citizens who know that the voice of change is the voice of treason." He looked at each of the Predacon generals with a glare that could cut through any metal in existence. "Deep down in your sparks you know that I am right when I say that this must stop here and now!" Megatron slammed his fist onto his opened palm and quickly turned to face the Tripredacus.

All three members of the Tripredacus Council clapped in a sarcastic acceptance of Megatron's speech. "Brilliant," replied the red Predacon who stood up and looked at Megatron. "You've finally surpassed the excellence of you predecessor."

Megatron took two steps forward and glared at all of the members of the Tripredacus Council. "And just what exactly does that mean?" he yelled toward the three members.

The first member looked down from the floating podium and squinted at Megatron. "It means, 'omnipotent' Megatron, that we've finally had enough of your petty nonsense. This slag of 'revolution' and 'superiority' has run its course with us." The other two members of the Tripredacus stood up and looked down upon the Predacon general. "And now, 'almighty' Megatron, you have officially run out of the slack that we have graciously given you." He stood there and continued to look at Megatron.

The middle member rubbed his hands together. He was a deep purple and had black on his wrists where they were surrounded by silver claws. "It is time that we reign in your reckless abandon."

Megatron sneered and clenched his teeth. "Reckless abandon?" He paused for a moment to look at the members of the Tripredacus Council. "I've done nothing but attempt to regain what is left of our pride! If you want to talk of abandonment, I think that you should take a look at yourselves!" Megatron turned to look at the other two Predacon generals who were standing on the floor. "Each one of us knows fully that if there was a true leader in control of the Predacons we would not be struggling for our own survival."

"And that is not for you to judge," the green council member said abruptly. "We do what is best for our race, not what will give us immediate gratification. Our long terms objectives. . ."

"Spare us your political banter of justification!" Megatron interrupted. "We do not want to be second class citizens to the Maximals. As inhabitants of Cybertron we are their equals, not their lessers!"

All three members of the Tripredacus Council looked at each other and nodded. Megatron could not hear exactly what they were saying, although he desperately tried to hear them. "I think that we've finally had enough out of you, Megatron," the purple member said. He glanced over at the two Predacon generals behind Megatron and nodded.

Suddenly, Megatron knew why the two Predacons standing with him where there. Megatron turned around and saw the two Predacons rushing toward him. Megatron reacted quickly and ducked out of the way on the two Predacons. He then unleashed his retractable blade from his wrist. The highly polished metal glistened in the lighting of the room. He glared at the two Predacons in disgust. "I see that the Tripredacus has a choke-collar with their underlings," he began. "I would have thought that at least someone in this wreck of a race had the bearings to stand up with me, but I was hopelessly wrong."

The first Predacon charged at Megatron and was met with a quick slash from his blade. The painfully sharp weapon sliced right through the abdomen of the attacking Predacon and sent a spray of pink energon across the room. The Predacon general doubled over, grabbed his wound, and split into two separate pieces. Energon and other vital components spilled onto the room from the openings of the two pieces. Megatron smiled at the sight of the energon that graced his blade and then looked at the other Predacon.

"Do you think that you'll fair any better?" he asked the second Predacon general who crouched down preparing to pounce on Megatron. "It seems foolish to just throw your life away on these spineless leaders who treat you like a mindless buffoon!"

Then, his audio receptors picked up something from over his shoulders. Megatron realized that he had heard something from behind approach him, but it was too late. He felt a slight twinge as the neural-net disk magnetized to his back and sent a reverse flow of energon streaking throughout his entire body. The blade immediately retracted and he let out a scream that could be heard throughout the bottom level of the Predacon Citadel. Megatron fell to his knees and grabbed his head as the pain intensified. Blue electricity filled the air around Megatron and smoke began to rise from his body and out of his mouth as the reverse flow began to forcibly shut down all of the systems within him.

Megatron fell onto his hands as well and attempted to prop himself up in an effort to not succumb to being captured. His internal diagnostic system frantically began attempting to re-route the remaining power within his body to the vital systems that he needed to remain conscious.


SYSTEM FAILURE SYSTEM FAILURE SYSTEM FAILURE SYSTEM FAILURE

SYSTEM FAILURE SYSTEM FAILURE SYSTEM FAILURE SYSTEM FAILURE

SYSTEM FAILURE SYSTEM FAILURE SYSTEM FAILURE SYSTEM FAILURE

SYSTEM FAILURE SYSTEM FAILURE SYSTEM FAILURE SYSTEM FAILURE

ENERGON SOURCE: RE-ROUTING

RE-CALIBRATION SEQUENCE: ZERO-ZERO-SEVEN-TWO-ONE-ONE

RE-CALIBRATION: ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR

SAFETY PROGRAM: INITIATED

STASIS-LOCK PROCEDURES:ACTIVATING

STASIS LOCK: IMMINENT

EQUALIBRIUM COORDINATION: OFF-LINE

WEAPONS NETWORK: OFF-LINE

ENERGON RECYCLING UNIT: OFF-LINE

ANTI-GRAVITY PROCEDURE: OFF-LINE

GPS NAVIGATIONAL MAPPING WEB:OFF-LINE

DEFENSE GRID ALIGNMENT:OFF-LINE

NEURAL-NETWORK ARRAY:BACKING FILES


Megatron's frame began to freeze as his internal safeguards began to force him into stasis lock. Megatron clawed at the floor in a hollow attempt to grasp something to throw at his attacker, if not the Tripredacus Council for their betrayal. Megatron lost all vision in his optics, going from black and white snow to complete darkness. His arms buckled and they could no longer support his weight. Megatron fell face first into the ground creating a loud thud as his forehead clanged against the metal floor.

Megatron's body lay there smoldering from the extreme overload that it had taken from the neural-net reverse energon flow. His left leg twitched for a moment and then went completely stiff as the stasis-lock protocols finalized their programs. The Predacon general who was prepared to face off against Megatron went over to his body and knelt down next to Megatron's head to examine it.

"Well?" a voice called from in the shadow of the pillar. "Is he in stasis-lock or what?"

The Predacon general knocked on Megatron's head and smiled at the sound that it made. He looked at the Tripredacus Council and stood. "Completely," he replied. "The reverse flow of energon seems to have thrown the fool into stasis-lock."

All three members of the Tripredacus Council smiled and looked toward the shadow of the pillar where their agent hid. "Nicely done," the red member said. "I assume that the next step is to inform the Maximals that our end of the agreement has been met."

Yellow optics grew brighter in the darkness and revealed where the attacker was hiding. There was a scuffle on the floor as the assailant approached the light. "I suppose so," a voice said as he entered the light. The purple frame of Tarantulas glistened as he looked at the downed Megatron. "The Maximals have been informed that he will be dropped off at the specified quadrant. They'll have a security team there ready to transfer him to Iacon immediately."

The Tripredacus Council smiled as they looked at Megatron's body that was still smoldering. "Excellent," the red and white Predacon leader said. "I believe that the time is now right to initiate phase two of our plan." He glanced over at Tarantulas and the other Predacon general, both kneeling on the floor. "It is finally time for the Harbingers of Chaos to make their presence known."


Primal gazed out of the front windshield of the Arbutus 8 as it skimmed the surface of the Cybertronian wastelands. He sat there wondering if he actually should put all of his faith into the success of this mission. Primal, after all of the years through the Reformation Wars with the Predacons, understood that something of this magnitude was far too good to be true. Deep within his spark, he wanted the endeavors of the Predacons to be genuine, but he could not convince himself otherwise.

Damn he thought as he sat there constantly trying to persuade his reasoning to be optimistic, but he still found himself questioning the Predacons' objectives.

Still uneasy, Primal shifted his balance in his seat and turned to look at the pilot of the shuttle. The pilot was a hulking green and brown figure who was deeply meticulous in his detailing; he sat there intently reading the navigational output of the topographical mapping system. His massive hands gracefully navigated the delicate controls of the ship over the rugged terrain that has yet to be reformatted. He could tell that the mission leader was watching him, so he turned around to face him as he set the navigational computer on autopilot.

"So what's got you all torqued out, Primal?" he asked in a deep voice that still suggested both care and concern for his friend. "I haven't seen you this frazzled since the last time we transferred Starscream's spark from Ark Haven."

Primal gave a small smile in the corner of his mouth and shook his head. "You know something Rhinox, as often as we run these missions I don't think that I'll ever be relaxed." He leaned back in his chair and rubbed the tip of his chin. "Dealing with the Predacons is a lot like dealing with Unicron himself."

Rhinox raised the top of his optics in confusion. "And how's that?' he asked.

Primal shook his head and looked outside of the windshield again. "They always have some type of alternate agenda that they want to initiate, and I'm not sure that this time's any different than before." Primal stood up and walked to the back of the cockpit. A wave of concern came over his spark as he wondered how this orn's mission would play itself out in the end. He grabbed on to the frame of the door and turned to face Rhinox. "I'm going down to check on the containment pod and the rest of the crew." He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "Patch it through the intercom when we arrive at our rendezvous location."

As Primal exited the doorway, the door to the cockpit closed and he began walking down the hallway toward the hanger. He lifted his hand up and grazed the right side of the hallway wall. The walk from the cockpit to the hanger was painfully long for Primal who still relentlessly questioned the validity of the motives behind the Tripredacus Council surrendering one of their prized generals. Over and over in his mind, Primal kept trying to figure out just what the Tripredacus had in mind for Megatron, if not for themselves.

Primal finally reached the hanger door where the stasis pod and the crew were. He placed his right hand on the scanning consol and let the security computer scan him to see if he was allowed to enter. The red bar of light scanned over the top of his hand and it gave off a glow that could be seen off of the highly polished walls. Once the scanner ran positive, the door began to slide open to its right, giving off a low hiss.

Primal saw the stasis pod laying on the floor of the shuttle; it was hooked up to various coolant tubes and exhaust vents in an effort to prepare it for its cargo. Primal saw one of his technicians working on the pod making sure that it was fully charged for the trip back to Iacon. Primal walked over to the Maximal and placed his hand on the technician's right shoulder.

"How's it all look, Rockbuster?" the captain of the shuttle asked.

The brown and black Maximal turned his head and looked at Primal. He smirked and nodded toward the stasis pod that was venting coolant through an exhaust port at the bottom of it. "All diagnostics report that she's green and prepped for storage, boss," Rockbuster said. "I tweaked the stasis alignment a bit to ensure that old Megatron doesn't try anything stupid while en route to Iacon." Rockbuster stood and slapped the stasis pod twice. "I highly doubt that we're gonna have problems from Megatron."

Primal smiled and looked at the pod. "Great," he replied. "The last thing that we want is to have a Predacon like that running loose on us in the ship." Primal looked around as if he was missing something. "Where's the rest of the crew?" he asked with concern.

Rockbuster turned to face Primal. "Oh you know," he replied with sarcasm. "They're around here somewhere I bet."

Suddenly, there was a loud crash from the back of the hanger. The probe-drone fell onto its side and the excavating scaffolding fell off of the wall. Primal and Rockbuster turned to look at each other and realized where the rest of the crew was.

"As if on cue," Primal said. He took two steps forward and cupped his hands around his mouthplate in an attempt to make his voice louder. "CHEETOR! RATTRAP! SQUALL!" he yelled to the back of the hanger. "Get up here right now!"


Rattrap looked concerned as he locked Megatron's limp body into the stasis pod in preparation for transport back to Iacon. He had heard rumors of the renegade Predacon and how he enjoyed taking Maximals off-line just for the pleasure of it. The Maximal rubbed the bridge of his nose as he calculated the final formula to be entered into the stasis computer.

Damn, he thought to himself. Why do I always get stuck checking in the goons while Rhinox and Rockbuster lolly-gag?

Rattrap slid his data-card along the numerical padlock and punched in the seven-digit codex that magnetically locked Megatron into place. There was a low hum as the superconductors activated and grabbed Megatron's frame. Rattrap placed the data-card into his side compartment and stood up. He looked at Megatron lying in the stasis pod and wondered if this was the end of the civil unrest that has been growing at a fever pitch over the last few mega-cycles.

"BOO!" a voice yelled from behind Rattrap's left shoulder.

Startled by the voice, Rattrap jumped into the air and went to his side holster to grab his EMP caster. He quickly got the gun and pointed it directly at the head of the mech behind him. "Sheesh," Rattrap said with aggravation. "Just what the slag do ya think that yer doin', Cheetor?"

The young Maximal smiled at the sight of Rattrap nervously holding the gun. "Hey now," he said as he put his hands up in front of the barrel of Rattrap's sidearm. "Don't shoot, don't shoot. I'm just pulling your chain, that's all."

Rattrap brought his weapon down and shook his head at Cheetor. "Geez, kid. Ya don't go doin' somethin' like that when a Maximal is puttin' the likes of old goon-face here into stasis lock." He rubbed the bridge of his nose and turned to look at Megatron's body inside of the stasis pod. "Do ya know what would have happened if I shot ya?"

Cheetor shrugged his shoulders. "It's not like that pea-shooter of yours is lethal anyway." There was a large amount of sarcasm in Cheetor's voice as he attempted to blow off the situation. "I'd just. . ."

"Ya don't get it do ya?" Rattrap said. "You'd wake up with a neural-ach, but the stasis pod controls that keep Megs all nice and off-line would probably have shorted out and set him loose." He pointed to the silent figure of Megatron who was dormant in the pod. "Do ya know what kinda slag we would have been in if that went down?"

Cheetor smirked and rubbed his face. "I know," he sighed. Cheetor became disappointed and embarrassed that he was being reprimanded while on duty. "I just thought that I would try and ease the tension that's going around."

Rattrap smiled and placed his hand on Cheetor's shoulder. "I know kid, I know." He looked at Cheetor's optics which told Rattrap that he was truly sorry for his actions. "Kids your age are all full of hot energon and are eager to prove somethin'; it's natural, kiddo." He looked at Megatron again. "I just hope that with Megs here in our possession it means that the Reformation War is finally over for both the Maximals and the Preds."

Both Cheetor and Rattrap looked out of the window and watched as the Wastelands slowly disappeared into the growing distance of the horizon. They watched as two Maximal escort shuttles nestled against the hull of the Arbutus 8. Cheetor looked at Rattrap with curiosity. "Do you really think it is?" he asked.

Rattrap sighed and placed his hand on his young friend's shoulder. "I hope so kid. I hope so."