WITNESS TO A FUNERAL
The dead planet turned slowly in the dark skies, illuminated only by the occasional flare of eruption upon its barren steel surface. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, the colossal planet had once burnt across the skies of the smaller, older worlds about it, instilling fear and blotting life out wherever it travelled. The heart that had fuelled it had burnt brighter than any sun and the trenches that traversed its now solemn surface had been alive with mechanical activity.
Standing on that chill surface now Darklore could feel nothing for the history of the iconic world, his heart hardened and his mind indifferent to the dreams the world had crushed with its single eye. There was no concept in the Destron's understanding that could appreciate the extent of the horror that had sprung up in the wake of the monster planet, so disinterested was he in carbon-based life. All he cared for was the simple fact that, like any other world, the cold surface of the dead planet still betrayed signs of a weakly beating Energon heart.
At his feet the pack of Command Jaguars continued to tear into the surface of the planet, peeling open the skin to reveal the darker workings within. Deftly, Darklore entered, passing into the guts of the planet and past rows of Dinobots, both normal and magma incarnations and tireless Chromehorns, all burrowing deep into the planet, eyes shimmering with eager anticipation at the reclamation of its burning heart as Shadowhawks circled high above.
Whilst not entirely pure Destrons, the Terrocons were as useful a tool as any and their skills were evenly matched enough to allow Darklore and his fringe Destrons to continue their gatherings undetected upon the fringe of planet Seibertron's original universe and the universe shaped by the rogue Quintesson, Alpha Q.
The year was 2005, one year after the destruction of Unicron and Galvatron-sama's translation into the central star of the new universe. One year in which Darklore and his fellow Destrons had shied from the probes and sensors of the Cybertron armada, struggling to preserve their way of life and the dignity that kept the dark purple badge of their political and moral affiliation burnt upon their armour.
His fists clenched when he reflected on the year of bitterness they had endured. True it was a remarkably small amount of time to bear a grudge, at least in respect to Destron traditions but Darklore was not one to wait patiently. Having been ignored in both the Unicron Battles and Galvatron's siege upon Siebertron he was eager to prove that, in the absence of any real central Destron power, his faction was powerful and significant enough to take centre stage as the prime representatives of Destron ascendancy.
His black heart quickened as he descended further into the depths of the planet, gliding deeper into its structure and passing increasingly complex structures obviously designed to facilitate smaller carbon-based lifeforms. If his indifference had not been so all encompassing then the Destron warrior might have paused to consider what sort of empire, carbon-based or non, could be powerful enough to construct such a world but, as it was, he passed by all the achievements of that forgotten imperial glory without interest.
From within the aged world he felt the stirrings of that weak heart, its fading power calling out to him. In an instant he shifted his limbs, transforming into his secondary jet mode and diving further towards the centre and the call of that weak heart.
Miles of labyrinthine structure passed him without comment, as did the scurrilously working Terrorcons, each one hastening to or retreating from the heart of the planet. The voice of the heart and of his destiny became louder and more urgent. The boosters in his rear flared blue and erupted in shimmering light as he tore deeper into the mechanism of the planet, approaching a sacred central chamber at the very heart. Rising up through the whole planet was a central tower connected to the outer levels by myriad walkways designed for smaller feet.
Darklore crashed through the walkways and dived directly down, the flaring, liquid heart of the planet from which the central tower rose now visible. Gathered about it were stuttering Terrorcons of all four families, their backs adorned with shimmering green Energon stars.
The Destron transformed, his giant feet landing upon the shore of the shining liquid light that comprised the world's heart.
"Energon..." He whispered softly.
And yet the Energon that swirled within the core of the dead world was foreign to him. He recognised and acknowledged its calling, as did the Terrorcons, yet the substance and aura of the shimmering oceans of light were thoroughly alien to him. His heart began to beat faster, his limbs trembling as he reached out a shaking hand towards the churning surface of the planet heart. The Energon stirred as he drew closer, growing ever more violent as slowly his fingers reached out and brushed the surface of the heart.
The Energon erupted, spraying across his armour in specks of burning light. Desperately he tried to recoil only to find his hand held in an iron grip. The pounding of his heart fell deathly silent and he turned his dark red eyes down towards the surface of the heart and his own outstretched arm.
Wrapped about his wrist was a glistening black hand, powerful and immaculate. He struggled to pull away, desperate to free himself from the thing that had slumbered within the heart of the planet. Without thinking he tore the blaster from his side and began to fire mindlessly, its muzzle igniting in blurs of translucent light that crashed against the surface of the Energon with no effect.
From deep beneath the waves a solemn figure rose; head smoothed and eyes colossal and hollow. Darklore screamed out in horror as the figure stretched out, Energon running down the deep lines of the masque and pouring from his vast structure as his wings unfolded behind him.
From beneath the masque issued forth harsh, rasping breath, a machine desirous once more of the memory of a very different life. He pulled Darklore close to him, dragging the whimpering Destron into the flowing seas of Energon that burning brighter than the heart of any planet before it.
"Who wakes me from my sleep?" The solemn figure whispered, drawing the trembling warrior ever closer to him.
Darklore's eyes widened in horror, the ghost of almost breath upon his cold metal face. In disgust and awe, the Destron realised that there was something horrifically human about the proud warrior he had awoken beneath the waves of Energon.
"Your servant's name is...Darklore...my lord." He gasped.
"Darklore..." The warrior answered softly, his heard turning and surveying the scurrying Terrorcons. "I don't know you, do I?"
"No, my lord, in truth you do not." The Destron answered, only too pleased to be free of the taint of the other's ghost breath.
"What of the Emperor, Darklore? Where is my master?" The warrior mused, his voice so soft that the other struggled to hear his words.
"G-Galvatron-sama has perished, my lord!" Darklore cried out, his sorrow more for his own current situation than the fate of Galvatron.
The warrior tightened his grip upon Darklore's arm and the Destron yelped in pain, falling to his knees in the seas of burning Energon.
"I know no Galvatron, Darklore; you will do well not to test my patience further." He grumbled.
"My lord!" Darklore gasped. "My lord, I swear I do not wish to deceive you! Of this Emperor of who you speak I know nothing. Only of Galvatron-sama, lord and master of the Destron Empire."
"Empire..." The warrior hissed with sudden delight. "Yes, Darklore, Empire." He lifted his head and looked up towards the towering insides of the lost planet. "There is but one Empire, Darklore and the Empire had but one master."
He turned his head down towards the struggling Destron once more, his masque expressionless.
"Go now, Darklore, let me grant you peace and tranquillity, the sparks of your presence have burnt brighter in these moments in which you have served me than at any other time in your pitiful existence. Go now and be reborn."
Darklore screamed out in horror as the unknown warrior forced him deep within the churning oceans of Energon. His mouth filled with the alien light and it flowed within him, overriding the mechanics of his life and swamping his spark with its ancient power.
His limbs went numb and his eyes flickered once and then faded, metal flesh turning momentarily black before reconfiguring itself beneath the influence of that aged light. From beneath the waters he rose once more, the memory and spirit of his former life washed away in the ebbs and tides of the Energon about him.
He bowed, his own masqued face as expressionless as that of his ancient mentor.
"What is thy bidding, my master?" The former Destron warrior whispered softly, eyes of an almost human quality moving within his reconfigured skull.
"Empire." The older warrior announced, striding from the Energon heart. "I have but one desire, Grievous; the desire for Empire"
The other bowed once more.
"As you wish, Vader-sama."
The elder machine glanced once more at the lofty heights of the planet and its detailed pathways leading to the outside. Without a second word he transformed, his metal flesh reconstructed as the most advanced starcraft of its time. Tearing ever upwards the ancient warrior broke through the surface and sliced his way across the stars once more, reborn and rejuvenated.
Grievous turned towards his Terrorcons and they howled their support, Shadowhawks swooping down and gathering the Jaguars up in their claws as they ascended after their new leader. Silently he lifted himself into the air, joining amongst the rapturous Terrocons in pursuit of their new master and his dreams of empire.
In the silent skies the dead world grumbled once more with life and from it the Terrorcons and their masters spread amongst the stars and towards the distant world of Siebertron.