Deep Space near Charr

The call had gone out. It was faint, it was far, but it was unmistakable. And so it answered the call. It moved sluggishly to turn and face it. And it began to move. Anything in its path it devoured. Anything in its way it destroyed. To feed the hunger. Because now that the call had gone out... it remembered. It remembered who it was.

"I... AM... COMING."


Decepticon Outpost, Charr

"We're all going to die!"

A servo lashed out, and the Cowardly Starscream was knocked flat on his skid plate.

"Mute it!" growled Strika, whom had just slapped him down. "We will not die. We are going to assess the situation and prepare appropriate countermeasures. Oil Slick, report."

The sleazy cyber-ninja turned to her. "Whatever it is, its getting closer by the minute. And I still can't get a good reading on its size, its off the charts. Its bigger than Cybertron's moons."

"And you are certain that scanner is functioning correctly?"

"Three complete diagnostics," repeated Oil Slick, checking his belt, making sure he had adequate weapons placed there. He had a feeling he was going to need them. "The machinery is functioning. But it doesn't matter much anymore," he added as he switched the monitor off.

"Why is that?" demanded Strika, looming over him ominously. She didn't like her authority being undermined.

To her surprise, however, it was Cyclonus who answered her.

"Because it is here," he stated, his voice cold as death.

Team Charr mobilized in minutes, flying and/or rolling out of their makeshift base and onto the open, rocky expanse that was Charr. At Strika's command, they transformed, wheels and wings retracting to reveal arms and legs. Weapons were readied. Cyclonus unsheathed the two great scimitars from his back, whirling them about in a figure-eight pattern before taking up a defensive stance. Oil Slick slid a metal rod from his side and let it slide out to reveal a longer metallic bo staff, which he twirled over his head. Strika upraised her twin cannons. The two Starscream clones hovered in the background, null rays primed and ready. Spittor cracked his multiple tongues against the ground in anticipation. And Blackout loomed behind all of them, enormous fists upraised. All in all, it was an impressive force, and even the Cybertronian Elite Guard likely would've sprang an oil leak at the sight of it.

Instead, it was Team Charr that was on the verge of an oil leak.

"What the hell is that?!"

Speeding towards the surface of Charr was an ominous orb of a dull, rust colored orange, with scattered shades of gray to compliment it. A thin, barely visible ring of lightly yellow encircled the tiny planetoid, but apart from that it was largely unremarkable in appearance. Save that it was easily big enough to dwarf the tiny planet of Charr (admittedly, smaller than most moons) and was approaching them at great speed. Already it was growing larger before their optics.

"What the hell is that?" repeated Strika. "Some sort of moon?"

"That's no moon," stated Cyclonus, scimitars upraised.

The purple Starscream, surprisingly calm, said "You know, I do hate repeating myself, but... just so everyone is... well... perfectly clear..." he paused, took in a deep breath, "WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!"

Again, a servo lashed out, and for a second time the Cowardly Starscream was knocked flat on his skid plate. He rolled a few feet before coming to a halt.

"Shut UP!" roared Strika dangerously. "If you want to be afraid of something, be afraid of me! Whatever that thing is, we're going to destroy it before it gets any closer to Charr. Got it?!"

Nods all around, including the Coward, even as Spittor helped him to his feet.

"I will lead the charge with my superior firepower!" declared the Egotistical Starscream, as he leapt up and into jet mode, and sped through the weak atmosphere of Charr and into space, speeding towards the orange object. His flying counterparts, the Cowardly Starscream, Blackout and Cyclonus, quickly transformed to follow. Three streaks of light split the sky as they sped into space and towards the sphere. Which was growing larger by the second.

Strika lifted a servo to shield her gaze and observe her troops progress.


The Stockade, Cybertron

Klaxon alarms sounded as red lights flashed throughout the Stockade. Sentinel Prime swerved around a corner hard and transformed so fast he almost slammed into the nearby wall. "What the hell is going on here?!" he demanded angrily as Warpath came stomping down to meet him.

"Power overload! Someone crashed the generators! Half the prisoners will be loose!"

"Well don't just stand there with your engine idling!" Sentinel shouted. "Get down there and pacify them! I don't want a single Con getting out of here, got that?!"

Warpath rumbled something decidedly unfriendly under his breath but took off down the corridor towards the elevator and headed down to the Second Floor. The Third Floor would keep, or anyone who got out would be rounded up again easily enough. And anything below Two had a backup generator to keep things running. But if the Decepticons cells and cuffs had gone off-line, there was no telling what sort of havoc they would cause.

The elevator started to descend, and then came to an abrupt halt. Frowning, Warpath saw he'd arrived, and realized the prisoners must've been trying to keep him out. He grabbed the door and heaved, prying it open with his bare optics, but before he could get out, someone got in, and a pale form slammed into him.

"So nice to see you again, Autobot friend!"

A servo slammed into his jaw, but the red Autobot had felt worse from his master Yoketron, and responded in kind, slamming both of his servos against the Starscream Clones back, knocking him to the ground.

"Ow! That didn't hurt, you rather pleasant fellow!"

Warpath lifted up his foot and slammed it down, but the clone rolled out of the way and took aim... but not at him. Much higher up. At first thinking his optics had malfunctioned, Warpath glanced up, and then his blue optics widened in horrific realization.

Decepticons could fly. Autobots couldn't.

The Starscream Clone fired, and the wide null-beam tore through the roof and the cables supporting the elevator. Without them, the compartment and Warpath went plummeting down, while the pale clone merely hovered in midair, giving an unsympathetic wave farewell. His copper-colored twin joined him, and together they flew down to the First Level, blowing open the doors with concentrated null-blasts. Once inside, they zipped off in opposite directions. It would take that hothead Sentinel and the other Autobots hours to get down here. But the Decepticons would be able to fly out in minutes once they were free.

Reaching the stasis cells, the cloned brothers proceeded to blast at doors randomly, freeing the prisoners within. The Bootlicker Starscream found one chamber in particular, and tore the door off its hinges. Within, the icy orb of Blitzwing flicked up, having evidently been waiting for him.

"Excellent vork," he intoned, lifting up his arm with the stasis bracelet.

"Your brilliant plan has been a most astounded success, oh mighty Blitzwing," praised the Starscream Clone. A null-ray blast later, and Blitzwing was free, his stasis bracelet lying on the ground in a pile of metallic shards.

The icy face smirked, and then switched to the hothead as he slammed fist into servo. "Let's kick some skid plate!"


Chamber of the All-Spark, Cybertron

During the Golden Age of Cybertron, before the Great War, the All-Spark had been housed in the grand Citadel in the center of Iacon, for all to see. When Megatron made his bid for power and the Decepticons rose up, Ultra Magnus and Alpha Trion took the All-Spark and hurled it into the Space Bridge network on a random trajectory. That took place millions of stellar cycles ago, and it had all but passed into legend... until a Elite Guard washout and his crew of repair-bots had located it, and hostilities had renewed.

But now there was peace. And the All-Spark, though perhaps a touch incomplete (several fragments were unaccounted for), had been restored to its former place of glory. Alpha Trion had resumed his position as guardian.

Autobots came from far and wide to see it. None were permitted to touch it, but all of them basked in its silent glow, marveled at its beauty. It was a shining light in the darkness, a crystallized hope that the Great War was finally over and peace and prosperity could return to Cybertron in full.

As the night cycle settled over Iacon and Cybertron, the chamber emptied as Autobots returned to their stasis-sleep. Leaving behind only a single bot to gaze up at the majesty of the All-Spark. Normally such was not permitted, but Alpha Trion knew and respected this warrior. He was, after all, one of the heroes of the recent war on Earth, as well as Cybertron.

Jazz.

"Still can't believe it," he stated aloud, though no one was there to hear him. "Finally over. You did it, Prowl," he added with a smile. "Yoketron would be proud."

Flicker.

Jazz frowned, reaching up a hand to wipe at his optical visor. Had he really seen that? For a second, he could have sworn...

Whisper.

Had he really heard that? It almost sounded like. No, that was beyond crazy. And yet... he could not deny there were some things in this 'verse that /were/ just plain crazy.

Hesitantly he took a step forward, turning up the volume on his audio receptors.

Danger.

Okay that he heard. And he realized it was coming directly from the All-Spark itself. It was the source. Hesitantly, he stretched out a servo, and lightly placed the tips of his fingers against the cool, crystalline surface of the All-Spark.

Again his vision flickered, but this time he could see it clearly. A faint image, like a hologram, flickered into view. White engulfed his sensors, and all seemed to fade away. The Chamber, the All-Spark, everything but himself... no... there was someone else here in the White. Someone he recognized instantly. A warrior in dark armor with a visor not unlike his own, though angled instead of straight. And a horned helmet he would know anywhere.

"No way... Prowl?"

The dark warrior nodded.

"We have a problem," he stated.


Highways of Iacon, Cybertron

Rush hour traffic, regardless of whether you were on Earth or Cybertron, was rarely a pleasant thing to deal with.

Fortunately, Bumblebee knew a way around that.

Autobots in vehicle modes blissfully travelled back and forth on the Iacon highways, going to their various destinations. The housing districts, the energon farms, the Autobot High Council, the Iacon Hospital, the dockyards, the Space Bridges. But one little yellow mech was cheerfully revving up his engine and, with a wild whoop of joy, shot forward towards his destination... a ramp at the end of the road.

"Yeeeeeeha!"

Bumblebee had an idea of what it was like to fly at that moment, as he soared over the heads of the other Autobots and landed with a thud in the middle of the Iacon highway, narrowly avoiding smashing into a red vehicle not unlike his own. He took off, wheels blazing, along the highway, while older mechs would watch and simply shake their heads at the foolish antics of youth.

The yellow mech sped along merrily, simply enjoying the feel of the wind rushing across his windshield, until he turned a sharp corner and came to a screeching halt, almost colliding with a camouflage green wall that stood in his way, or so it seemed to him. Rolling backwards and switching to robot mode, Bumblebee started off without pausing for breath.

"Bulkhead, what the hell! I nearly ran you clean over!"

The green wall, in actuality a green SWAT vehicle, also assumed robotic form. "Then you should watch where you're going more often."

"Rrr," muttered Bee. "What do you want?"

Bulkhead rolled his optics, exasperated with his younger buddy-bot. "You should check your comm. messages every once in a while if you're going to shut it off. We're being called to the Autobot High Council building. All of us."

"All?"

"I think so. I heard Sari is supposed be there too. Somethin' bigs goin' on."

"Well, last one there is a rotten engine block!" declared Bumblebee, all but leaping past Bulkhead and transforming into vehicle mode, tearing off down the nearest street.

Bulkhead stretched out a servo to stop him. "Bee! Wait! It's...! Dwaaaargh," he grumbled, assuming his own vehicle mode and taking off after his little buddy. He was going the wrong way.


Detroit Waste Disposal Center, Earth

Naturally, there was some explanations and introductions.

"I am Soundwave. I am Decepticon."

The Femme grimaced. "Real winning personality this one. One of yours?"

The original frowned, peering closely at the slightly shorter but much stockier Decepticon warrior. "No," he muttered thoughtfully. "Definitely not one of mine. But not one of Megatron's either. Well, Soundwave, I am Air Commander Starscream, of the Decepticon Battlefleet. And this is..."

"Slipstream," supplied the Femme. At his astonished look, she deadpanned "You didn't expect me to go for the rest of my existence called 'The Female Starscream Clone' did you?"

He grunted. "I suppose not." Then, under his breath, added "Didn't expect any of you worthless clones to survive the battle anyway..." then, more loudly "What is the status of the war?!" he demanded suddenly, angrily poking his faceplate right in front of Soundwaves.

The sturdy Soundwave didn't so much as twitch. "Unknown. There has been no contact with the other Decepticons."

"Then you will pledge your allegiance to me!" declared Starscream. "I am the true, rightful leader of the Decepticons!"

The femme rolled her eyes but didn't bother to counter her creators (as usual) wild claims of grandeur. She needed someone to ally herself with. Her arrogant father and the emotionless boombox would have to do for now.

"Acceptable." Soundwave might as well have been pointing out how he felt about the weather for all the enthusiasm displayed of joining Team Starscream. "We must begin the Robot Revolution. The two of you will assist. With no Autobots left on Earth, its people will be helpless."

"Who cares about this wretched planet?!" shrieked Starscream. "There's nothing of value here anymore! Megatron is gone! The All-Spark is gone! Omega Supreme is gone! Our best bet at this point is to rally the other Decepticons and make a new plan! With my genius finally guiding the Decepticons, we will claim Cybertron!"

"Cybertron?"

"Our home, idiot!" spat the newly christened Slipstream.

"Illogical. Soundwave was created on Earth. Earth is my home," he stated.

That reminded her of something. "Speaking of which, how does that work? And how did you resurrect daddy dearest here?" she asked.

"I was created with blueprints designed by Megatron," Soundwave explained, eliciting near identical grimaces of disgust from both of his new colleagues. "Upgraded and empowered by the All-Spark infused Key. The one in the possession of the techno-organic Sari Sumdac. Its energies are contained within," he added, tapping the place over his chestplate, where a normal Cybertronian contained a spark. "Bestowing a fraction of them gave life to my minions, albeit crude life. When I discovered the body of Starscream, I concluded he could be resurrected. I was correct."

Decepticon Air Commander Starscream did have to admit, he had been at that. Idly his own fingertips traced along his chestplate, and he could feel a real, proper spark pulsating inside of him again. "You function like an All-Spark fragment," he said. "You have the same energy. This is invaluable! One piece remains in Decepticon hands!"

"We must begin the Robot Revolution," Soundwave repeated, for all the word sounding like a broken recording. "This planet will fall."

"To the Pit with this backwards, infested little planet!" spat Slipstream. Then, she switched tactics. Why threaten with the stick when she had a nice carrot instead? "Come on, Soundwave. You want to fight for a world of machines? Come to Cybertron. It's a planet wholly devoid of filthy organic life. Where machines already rule."

Soundwave considered this, then nodded. "Acceptable. Ravage, Ratbat, Laserbeak, return. Operation: Mobilization," he intoned monotone, his chestplate splitting in two and sliding open, revealing an inner compartment. As the two flyers watched, a number of metallic animals slipped out of the various scrap piles and heaps of trash, and swooped or scampered across the ground, transforming in mid air until they became three thin CDs, one red and black, another silver and purple, and one black and silver. Each fitted perfectly inside of Soundwaves chest compartment, which slid closed. Then, he himself transformed, arms and legs sliding easily into his sides as he took the form of a stereo-modified terrain vehicle. He then sat there, waiting.

Starscream glanced over at Slipstream, who rolled her eyes at him. "Well I'm not carrying him," she said dismissively. "He's too heavy! Carry him yourself... Air Commander," she added with a sarcastic salute.

Grumbling something rude about ungrateful sparklings, the elder Starscream lifted up and let his body slide easily into the form of a harrier jet. He then attached Soundwave to his underbelly, and the three of them climbed up into the sky and, with a boom, through the thick cloud cover and into the atmosphere. Speeding towards outer space.


Historical Archives, Cybertron

"Arcee Teaching Unit?"

The pink femmes head lifted, setting down the disc she'd been studying. "That's me."

"Ah, and you must be Ratchet," said the unknown mech as he made his way over to the two of them. "The Autobot Council is summoning you both."

The older medic bot nodded, sliding the discs he and Arcee had been studying back into their spot in the Archives. "Best we be going then. We'll have to cover the Third Reformat another day," he said, as he and Arcee stepped out of the building. Ratchet slid easily into vehicle mode, door swinging open for Arcee to climb inside. Her own vehicle mode had been lost while she'd been in stasis-lock for the past millennia or so, and she hadn't had the time to scan for a fresh one. Hopefully they'd find time to do that soon, but until then, she always had Ratchet to transport her around.

She rested easily in her seat as he took off down the streets of Cybertron, idly caressing her servo against his dashboard. Yes, she always had Ratchet looking out for her.


Iacon Housing District Seven, Cybertron

A newcomer to Cybertron, Sari Sumdac had been brought on-line with no identification and no preparation. The authorities were at a complete loss of where to put her or what to do with her. However, Bumblebee had an apartment on Cybertron rented out in his name for off-missions (Bulkhead hinted that he'd received it from his parents when he'd enlisted in Autobot Boot Camp). He rarely used it much, so in a generous gesture, offered it to Sari until she got herself situated. And hey, if he wanted to drop by from time to time to play video games with her, who was she to complain.

She was just waking up when the terminal started beeping.

"Lights, windows," she commanded aloud. The room, designed to interact with voice-activated orders, immediately illuminated, and the windows folded open to reveal a breathtaking view of the nighttime Cybertron sky. Or at least, the Cybertron sky. The planet was, she was told, too far away from their moon to provide much illumination, though it did support a breathable atmosphere and enough warmth from its core to sustain organic life-forms. Or partially organic ones.

Sari slid off of her bed (something she'd brought from Sumdac Towers) and to the terminal, having to jump up to hit the button given her diminutive height. The screen flashed to reveal the face of Bumblebee.

"Hey 'Bee!" she said, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "What're you up to this morning?"

"We got a call from Autobot High Command," replied the yellow mech. "I'm actually downstairs. I was gonna give you a lift."

"Did they say what for?" she asked, as she grabbed her jetpack and slid it over her shoulders.

He shook his head. "But the name on the order is Ultra Magnus."

She whistled. "Top of the line."

Bumblebee nodded. "So shake a stabilizing servo, girl! The yellow taxi is taking off in two cycles, whether you're here or not!" he exclaimed, assuming vehicle mode.

She ran for the door, laughing. "I'm coming! I'm coming!"


Authors Notes

Seems I misspoke earlier when I said this story contained only one original character. I forgot Ravage. I tossed him in as well. So I guess that's two.