Techno-organic flowers and grass sat before Cheetor's beast head. Too many problems had happened the week before…losing a battle with Magnatron, Pax Convoy switching sides, the Omikron. Too much frustration and anger. This was the one place Cheetor could relax; a small patch of land within Maximal protection that was still techno-organic and thriving.
The cheetah stretched himself out and tried to relax, staring up at the star-speckled sky. So many memories found him when he lay here, alone, amidst organic life. Joyful memories, sad memories…memories of saving prehistoric Earth, of freeing Cybertron, or the relief of surviving his first war. Each of those memories was bittersweet, though. Saving prehistoric Earth meant watching Tigatron and Airrazor, as well as Dinobot, die. Freeing Cybertron meant the deaths of Rhinox and Optimus, and what good was surviving a war if you couldn't enjoy being alive with your friends?
This was pointless. "Transform," Cheetor murmured, seconds later standing as a tall Maximal robot. There was work to be done. He couldn't waste his time resting in a field.
***
"Magnatron's an idiot," Big Tank said after he finished reading his commander's transmission. "How are we supposed to find "artifact" and recover it? Where ever it is, its probably buried under tons of rock, dirt, or ice." Big Tank was an imposing figure; entirely black and white, treads laced up and down his blocky, fat legs; the treads white, his legs black. His torso had multiple layers of small, triangular shaped armor, almost like scales. On the center of his chest was a circle of armor that had been cut into five pieces; that is, each piece had the same origin point, at the top of the circle, but was separated. Big Tank's arms were suited in large metal plates, gyros and servos covering his elbow and shoulder joints. Big Tank, for his size and bulk, had surprisingly compact and slender arms, and thus needed modifications to correctly amplify his strength. Big Tank had no hands, only two giant cannons at the ends of his wrists. When he needed hands, he attached a separate accessory to them. He had a large chin, a minimal amount of helmeting, but had two small guns attached to either side of his head. To the right of his head was his powerful vehicle mode cannon, equal in height to Big Tank himself.
"Magnatron…" Big Tank cursed, "You'll be the downfall of us all. I would be a far better leader than you would ever be. You, Magnatron," he said, as his makeshift hand closed into a fist, "Are weak."
***
"Rawhyde here," said the hippo transformer excitedly, "we've found our bartering item."
"Where?" Cheetor anxiously asked. If this could pay Pax Convoy's cost to aid the Maximals/Autobots, then the strike could be commenced as planned.
"Not where, per-say," Rawhyde said, "as we created it from a few weapons we had lying around. We never did give Pax a weapon, you know."
Cheetor agreed. "I'll be there in a minute. Get a shuttle ready."
Literally, minutes later, Cheetor had arrived, and inspected the bartering tool. "Yes, yes, this should be to his satisfaction." He turned around, "But just in case, I want Silver Convoy thirty seconds away to back me up."
"Understood." Rawhyde signaled for a group of Maximals to begin loading the creation onto Cheetor's shuttle. "Careful! Careful! If that's damaged, I'll have your head!" The workers strength and endurance suddenly increased ten-fold, mortally afraid of Rawhyde's wrath.
"Alright, we're done," reported the workers.
"Good, we have no time to lose," Cheetor and Rawhyde climbed into the shuttle as its engines accelerated in search of Pax Convoy.
After just a week, Stronghold, the Predacon capital city, had already been infused with Omikron buildings, defense systems, and citizens. Pharaoh watched over the integration of Omikron technology into the Cybertronian city. Stronghold…he would make it worthy of that name.
"This comes along nicely, doesn't it?" Magnatron said, as he walked up to Pharaoh.
"Yes, quite." Pharaoh suddenly looked up in the sky and watched a small aircraft fly by. "Is that one of yours?"
Magnatron scanned the plane. "No, it's Maximal!" He turned around to order his minions to attack when Pharaoh put a hand on his shoulder.
"Its alright, Magnatron. I'm out of practice." Pharaoh levitated in the air as his body parts twisted and flipped around. Magnatron stood stunned as Pharaoh landed as a vehicle rectangular vehicle with a small, hemisphere dome canopy.
"You..Omikrons…you can transform?" Magnatron blurt out.
"Of course," Pharaoh said. "I did tell you, we Omikrons are Decepticon descendants." Two small planes launched from the sides of Pharaoh and pursued the Maximal ship. Momentarily, a blaze lit the dark sky, and then faded away.
Magnatron stood still, still amazed at what he had just seen. "If you'd care to know," Pharaoh began, "this mode, my alternative mode, is that of a carrier of small battle drones."
Magnatron grinned insanely. "The Autobots and Maximals will die before my hand," he said to himself. "Cheetor, Silver Convoy...they will all die."
Elsewhere, the Maximals were making their own arrangements…
"No! I want to talk to Pax Convoy myself!" Cheetor bellowed. The leader of Cybertron's mercenary corps. had been giving Cheetor a difficult time, refusing to let anyone talk to his employees.
"Man, he's my employee. I pay him and direct his missions. Now, back off, guys. If you're potential clients, then you've gotta go through me. Are we all clear, guys?" Cheetor didn't remember this robot ever being in the Maximal ranks…he must've been a Predacon. That'd explain his fine behavior towards Cheetor, too.
"I don't care. This is urgent." Cheetor reached the boiling point as the director kept shaking his head. "We have a reward that we need to deliver to him alone, it can't be disassembled."
"Look, man, I can't do that. It'd totally throw off the moral roots and stuff that this organization was-" he was cut off as Cheetor grabbed him by the throat.
"Last chance," he snarled, "Last chance to let us talk to your employee, or I start slicing body parts off." From behind his back a sword emerged in his left hand.
The director had started to panic. "Well, I guess I can make an exception…but don't go trying to sway him back to your side! He's a mercenary forever, whether he likes it or not!" A disgusted Cheetor threw the director off to the opposite wall.
"Thank you."
Cheetor heard the booming of steps in front of him. "What's going on here?" Pax Convoy demanded. "Cheetor…why are you here? I told you to go away."
"Nice to see you, too," Rawhyde said, coming from behind Cheetor, with his group of workers behind him.
"We have a proposition to make," the Maximal commander said. "We need your help…"
"Money?"
"Something better," the cheetah grinned as the workers unveiled their cargo.
Pax stood speechless. When he had regained himself, he commented, "That rifle… it custom made?" Cheetor nodded. Pax lifted the tremendous rifle, weighed it, and practiced aiming with it.
"I named it the Blitz Cannon," Rawhyde pitched in enthusiastically. Giddy as a schoolboy, "I dare you to find a more powerful hand held rifle."
Pax had been bought. "What do I need to do to earn this rifle?"
Cheetor smirked, and told Pax of his plan…
The Autobots and Maximals would attack in waves, each wave being equally balanced. The last wave, however, would consist of the strongest of the faction. That wave would make the final push through the defenses, and clear the way for the other waves to return. Upon entering the Predacon capital Stronghold, the primary targets of concern would be the power stations and the industrial centers. No prisoners would be taken, and as many Omikron constructs would be destroyed as possible. When the mission was complete, all waves would scramble out of any exit in the city, destroying as much as possible on their escape route.
Pax held out his hand in a handshake, "I wouldn't miss it for the world, commander."
Cheetor accepted the handshake placidly, but inside was bouncing with joy. His underlying plans would now come to light, and his ulterior motive achieved. "Tomorrow we strike. Be at our capital at 0600 hours."
"But of course. My drones shall accompany me."
"Excellent," said Cheetor.
***
Far from planet Cybertron, a group of Predacons combed planets looking for what their leader called "the artifact". Planet after planet was intensely scanned for disruptions in the geological landscape. Searches had been useless until of late…
Maw Jaw's two colossal drills broke the surface in a crescendo of shattered rock. He and Locust transformed and landed in the new hole.
Locust pointed out that, "because of the fragile nature of the cavern, this may be the site."
"We must keep drilling, it here," Maw Jaw said, transforming back to drill mode. The twin spiral drills began spinning as he moved towards a wall.
"Stop!" shrilled Locust. Maw Jaw obeyed his master. Locust walked in front of the driller and towards the wall. His insect hands started brushing the wall frantically while he remained serene. After a minute of brushing and scrubbing, Locust blew a puff of air against the wall, scattering dust immediately. Backing away, he shot a wide, low powered beam at the wall, turning stone to dust.
As the dust and debris cleared, a large and blackened silver hull stood before the two. Locust stepped up to the wall and read the writing on it:
"Flagship Lunar".
Locust stepped away, tapping his com-link. "Lord Magnatron, I do believe that we've found "the artifact".
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