Disclaimer: Hasbro owns Transformers, I own the story. Any and all additional recognizable culture references, locations, songs, et cet, belong to their rightful owners.

Chapter 4: Making Plans and Thinking

Megatron strode down the halls of his underground base. Whenever he passed by Decepticons, they saluted or bowed to him, no matter what they were doing, improving his mood. He could remember a time when he would stand among these same mechs and none of them would even glance at him, as he had just been one of them once, a long, long time ago. He had continued being one of them, even as his plans for universal domination grew, and had even been mildly surprised when people had sworn their loyalty to him, wishing for change as well. It had been difficult to maintain respect in the beginning days of his campaign, but now it was something he expected from all mechs, enemy and follower alike. Truly, it was a wonderful feeling to realize that all these mechs would declare to hail him when shouting their war cry, and knowing that other mechs would shiver at his name only made him feel better. Ah, yes, it was wonderful to be a figure of power. But he needed to ensure that this power would not slip away from him…

Stepping into an elevator lit by lights in the ceiling and floor, he turned around as the doors slid shut and the elevator lowered itself at a rapid pace. He reviewed this next project on his trek to domination in his mind one more time, ensuring that he had not missed any holes or weaknesses.

He didn't have to worry about Starscream ruining things; he was in Europe aiding in the war there, and had Decepticons like Blitzwing and Mash to keep him in line. Blitzwing was a naturally good leader and discipliner; he had to be, being leader of the Neo-Nazis. Mash was a bit of a surprise, though; the first recruit the Decepticons had gained upon reawakening after the original war, Megatron had not expected him to last a month, much less rise in the ranks. And yet, Mash had proven to be an amazing and loyal discipliner, but Megatron was more concerned about loyalty; even the dumbest soldiers were good if they were loyal (like Skywarp…).

The elevator came to a smooth stop and emitted a small hum before the doors opened. Stepping through them, Megatron found himself in an enormous dark cavern hundreds of feet below the Sahara Desert and their stolen Breaker Labs base. Lights had been welded and tied to the ceiling and walls and an almost endless array of equipment lined the walls. Decepticon mechanics, engineers, and inventors bustled here and there, working in this private world beneath the world. Here, the workers merely glanced at Megatron, a visitor in their realm, before resuming their work. Most of these mechs had not seen the sun since joining the Decepticons, and it was showing by how they moved around with their lights dim or completely off, able to maneuver in the dark with little to no assistance.

Megatron nodded to the workers then looked up at what he had set them to work on.

A spaceship; enormous even by Transformer standards and as sleek as a proper Cybertronian ship, Megatron had had this thing in the works ever since they had discovered this cavern when they were expanding the base. After all, he needed a proper intergalactic war ship to carry him and his troops to Cybertron to take it over.

"How complete is it?" he inquired to no one in particular, knowing that someone would answer him.

Sure enough, the nearest mech to hear him answered, "Eighty-seven percent, sir. We are installing major components and will need to run it through some stimulations then it will be ready for flight."

"Keep working," Megatron ordered. Raising his voice, he called out, "Decepticons Mextron, Solarflare, Flickword, and Smartmouth: Report to me!"

Of course, the aforementioned soldiers had shown up on time: he had ordered them to be here at an earlier time. Now the mechs appeared from the bustle of the spaceship developers.

Mextron still looked almost too much like Megatron for his own comfort; with an almost identical body lay out, down to the helmet and arm cannon, Mextron's Transformer form clearly showed the world who was his father. On his back were a pair of wings resembling a metallic bird's, but Mextron always held his wings in a way that the feathers pressed together, forming a pair of formidable jet wings in his alt-form. He also had a see through red visor over his optics and a different, younger, handsomer face, but after that, the differences disappeared.

Solarflare was an orange and white Seeker femme who had failed to adopt an Earthling alt mode and hence kept her tetra jet form. She had been apart of a messenger surface before… falling in with the Decepticons' care. She had a turquoise-colored turbo fox kept in a compartment in her chest, whose alt-form was a disk, and was prone to going straight for the face in combat. Solarflare had a strong sense of honor, but had proved herself loyal to Megatron thus far.

Flickword was the most Autobot-looking Transformer in Megatron's ranks. He had armor like Earth's Medieval knights with the antennae and wings of a moth and large optics. His color was lavender with lemon yellow accents, wings, and antennae. At Megatron's request drawn from embarrassment, Flickword had adopted an alternate digital paintjob that made his lavender colors black and his lemon yellow accents a dark orchid color; a more Decepticon-y paint job. Flickword had argued this point and had won the right to wear his actual paint job when not in public. Flickword was named thus because before he had come to Decepticons, he had had a stuttering problem that had caused him to runaway from his home and its bullies in Japan and had gladly fallen in with the Decepticons when he found them. Megatron thought of him as an annoyance, but his strength was useful and both it and Flickword's Autobot-appearance would do well in this next mission.

Smartmouth was the only one Megatron was worried about. As the daughter Effort of Starscream, she had all the snide remarks of her father without the cowardice and frequently argued with Mextron. She, too, held the Seekers' generic body form and jet alt-form and had a paintjob similar to her father's, but was maroon where Starscream was red and dark grey where he was white. She even had the shoulder-mounted null cannons of her father.

If Mextron is still a good leader among the Decepticon Efforts and is anything like me, Megatron thought. Then it should be no problem for him to crush any rebellion in Smartmouth.

"I have called you here," he spoke announced, "Because I have a special mission for you. This army has grown enough in strength to begin reaching back into space. I know just the way to do this, and it requires creating a jail break in the Asteroid Belt Prison, where most of my old colleagues are serving time…"

- - - -

Swindle was in his enormous warehouse store in the mountains somewhere in America, sitting in a large computer chair and leaning back in it with his feet on a table as he read the latest issue of a car magazine, sipping on energon in one hand while the other flipped through the magazine. The reason why he was not dead or in the Asteroid Belt Prison was that during the Final Battle of the original Autobot-Deception War, he had managed to bargain his way to safety and freedom with a less-than-honorable Autobot foot soldier. That, on top of the fact that he had been reduced to a human size by an accidental shrink ray, had helped Swindle hide on Earth and establish his own personal trading empire under the false identity of Gadgetmaker.

The bell of the warehouse door rang. Swindle looked up then set the magazine and energon down, standing as he tapped at a spot on his chest.

"Sam, can you get that?" he called as a color change came over him, turning his golden yellow to a vibrant orange and his purple into a dark blue.

Quickly, he drew a pair of optic lenses from a compartment in his wrist and installed them, making it appear as if his purple optics were navy blue. Over at the door, a young human with vibrant red hair wearing a dark blue visor over his eyes put one hand on the lever that would order the door open. He glanced one last time at Swindle and tapped his chest. Swindle looked down and saw that his Decepticon insignia was still showing. Flashing the thumbs up sign to Sam, Swindle tapped the insignia and it faded into his armor. Finally, Sam pulled the lever.

The garage doors slid open to reveal a pony-sized robot cat. With slim limbs, dainty paws, and large sky-blue optics, she was a graceful creature, but her armor, red on top with a white underside, was badly burnt and dented. Sam and Swindle exchanged surprised looks, but looked at the Transformer cat when she spoke.

"Please, help!" she panted, "I-I was with a police band b-busting a Breaker Labs base, but the place was cleaned out and-and we must have tripped a booby trap because the building exploded on us! There are a lot of people that are badly hurt and our communications are out, please! We need help!"

Swindle and Sam exchanged looks again. Swindle leaned over and whispered something to Sam. Smiling, Sam nodded then ran over to a large dark grey SUV, tossing things out of its back and putting medical supplies in it. Swindle knelt and petted the feline in a friendly manner.

"Don't worry, little pretty thing," he said, flashing his most friendly grin and polishing his hansom voice to its best tone. "We'll help you. What's your name?"

"Anne," the cat panted, shaking her head away from Swindle's hand, "Autobot Effort Anne."

Behind them, Sam tried to start the SUV, but only got a quiet buzz. Scowling, Sam got out of the SUV and popped the hood. He fiddled with the engine, tried starting the vehicle up again, and failed once more.

"Miss Anne!" Swindle gasped, as if he were surprised, "My goodness, madam, it is an honor to meet you!" He clasped his hands together and said sympathetically, "It's such a tragedy about what happened to Transport City, just a tragedy!"

Sam silently cussed and shook his fists as he came back to the SUV front. He glanced quickly at Swindle and Anne to make sure no one was looking. Turning back to the SUV, he shook a finger at the SUV, as if scolding it. A small string of red-purple lightening zapped from his finger to the SUV and the vehicle responded by revving its engine to life.

"Hurry!" Anne yipped, "There were a lot of people hurt when I left!"

Dropping the hood before getting in the vehicle again, Sam drove it around to park beside the merchant and feline. Swindle opened the passenger door and motioned inside quickly.

"Well then, get in! Get in! We must hurry!" Swindle said excitedly.

Anne jumped into the SUV, moving to the back, and Swindle jumped into the passenger seat. Sam set the SUV off almost before Swindle had got into it and followed Anne's directions through the woods around the mountain.

"My, Miss Anne, you ran all the way here?" Swindle asked.

"Yeah," Anne panted. "Are we there yet?"

"I believe so!" Swindle exclaimed as they exited the woods.

The woods had been cleared by a large expanse for a parking lot and a series of buildings on the edge of the mountain, over looking a valley below. However, the buildings, or rather their remains, were on fire and crumbling in on themselves. Police cars had been completely blown up by the initial explosion and sat on their melting tires as they slowly burned from the inside out. Other police cars and vans had been shoved over onto their sides and even on their backs by the shockwave of the initial explosion. Humans were everywhere, lightly singed, badly injured, or simply dead. The moans of the dying and badly injured intermingled with the crackling flames and the stench of burning flesh and clothes made the smoke of the fire smell like perfume. Swindle and Sam's eyes were instantly attracted to a police car Transformer in the corner of the parking lot and carnage. In his arms he held a smaller black and white femme, appearing to almost be a younger female version of Prowl himself.

"Help me get these supplies to the medics," Anne ordered, crawling right over Swindle and jumping out of the car window. "Do you have a radio we can use to contact help? Ours got messed up in the wake of the blast. They're recovering, but not fast enough…"

"Sam, help Miss Anne help her friends here," Swindle ordered the human as he placed a finger to the side of his head. "I'll contact help."

"Right, Mr. Gadgetmaker, sir!" Sam agreed in his Brooklyn accent, nodding.

Swindle-alias-Gadgetmaker watched Anne and Sam move the supplies out to the injured police men, making sure that no one was watching him before he finally accessed a communication link code.

"Hello?" he said quietly as a small, clever smile crossed his metal face, "Yeah, it's your old swindler here; interested in picking off some Autobot Efforts, easy-like? No? Are you sure? These kids can become something of an awful pain in the skid plate if you don't deal with them now. Question you? No, of course not! Why would I ever do that? Well, that's your choice, but I have something else to tell you. I don't think he'll mind me telling you, but… I know what you're looking for, and I just want to tell you that it's right here with me."

Swindle looked over at Sam as he set a chest of medical supplies down near by.

"How long? Oh, I'd say ever since I picked him up when he was running around Italy… He's just been hanging with me, waiting for destiny to come and, shall we say, take his hand? Oh, yeah, we've been planning this a long time. Just letting you know; he'll be with the Autobot Efforts when ever you want him. Talk about a great spy, eh? Why am I telling you this? Well, let's just say that I know a good potential customer when I see one. Yeap, you too. Until next time, my friend."

Swindle cut off the communications link as Sam passed by the SUV. They exchanged looks and Swindle nodded, flashing the thumbs up sign to Sam. Sam smirked then continued on with his work.

- - - -

Autobot Effort Max, son of Bumblebee, was not known for his intelligence. Hence, if one were to find him on the floor on his stomach in a recreational room of the mountain-embedded intergalactic Autobot ship, the Ark, with a large sheet of paper in front of him, a pencil in one hand, and a doughnut in the other, they would assume he was doodling and move on. They would do a double take if they realized that he was actually making an effort to think.

Go ahead, do that double take…

"Okay," he muttered, drawing a line across the center of the paper. "If the rest of the Autobot Efforts and me were born eighteen years ago…"

He jotted down a simple "us" over the center of the line and drew a dash on the line to mark the point.

"Then, let's see, according to the reports, Shockwave's son, the hot chick, and Megatron Junior from Hell were older than us, so that would put them before us; okay, not bad, it's to be expected. They are, after all, our prototypes. Wow, saying it like that sounds weird…"

He jotted down the simple initials of FF, SM, and Mex on a random bit of line to the left of the first dash, adding a dash for emphasis again.

"But the cutie little brats that totally owned Benjamin's butt were born after us."

Again, he initialed and dashed SL and CW on the time line, this time to the right of the Autobot Efforts' dash.

"So, wait, if they were born after us, when prototypes weren't needed, then why did Breaker Labs make them?" he asked aloud. "And that last dude, the blue-haired creep, Mr. Strong and Silent, when was he born? Wait, he was older than anyone else, right? No, no, he was younger. Maybe he was our age, but looked younger, or older? Or—"

Max growled in frustration and stuffed a doughnut in his mouth before rolling over on his back, holding the paper and pencil over him. He failed to recognize the distant hiss of a landing spacecraft outside.

"Man, I'm confused," he grunted through a mouthful of white powdered sugar doughnut.

"Man, I'm exhausted," Josh groaned, entering the recreational room and falling down into a chair. "Flying takes a lot out of you!"

"Well, you gotta admit, kid," Ironhide said, entering the room. "Flying in a Portuguese hurricane isn't exactly a cake walk. Nice work, kid."

"Yeah," Jazz agreed, following Ironhide into the room and flopping onto the couch beside Josh. "Nice work, kid, especially for your first major mission!"

To add emphasis to his compliment, Jazz wrapped an arm around Josh's neck and rubbed his knuckles playfully on Josh's helmet. The silver visor of Josh's helmet flicked up, revealing extremely pale blue optics beneath.

"Hey!" he laughed, "I get it! I get it! Now knock it off! So, do I get my own Transformer name now?"

"Sure," Jazz agreed. "I was thinking Neophyte, or Bitmap."

"Neophyte means 'new guy' and Bitmap makes me sound like a computer genius or geek or something," Josh complained.

"Okay, how about Silverhawk?"

"Nah, 'hawk's' been done in so many names it's not even funny."

"Shank?"

"Do I look like I've been to prison?"

"Silverstreak!"

"Been done before."

"Archangel Josh!"

"Too dramatic."

"The Josh!"

"How's this for you: The wrestling looser."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Yes!"

Ironhide knelt beside Max curiously as Josh and Jazz tackled each other and began to wrestle playfully.

"What're you working on there, kiddo?" he asked.

"Something—"Max began.

"Hey, Josh!" a new voice piped up.

A white, red, and green Autobot with a face mask and enormous side ear fins, Wheeljack, entered the room with Jack Turbine, his human apprentice, on his shoulder. Jack Turbine wore his favorite stained and burnt lab coat with a pair of goggles on his forehead, pushing up his spiked light brown hair. Following them was Michelangelo. Skyfire remained outside, where he was more comfortable in the open space.

"Hey, Jacks," Max greeted.

"Woha, hey!" Ironhide exclaimed, jumping up and backing away from them exaggeratedly. "I like my body in one piece, thank you!"

"Relax, we're off duty," Wheeljack assured as he set Jack down on the recreation room's table. Michelangelo went over to Max while Jack slid down a table leg and joined them.

"Hey, what's that?" Michelangelo, informally known as MJ (Because MA was too awkward), asked.

"Something about the ages of all the Efforts is really confusing me," Max said, sitting up and showing his friends his timeline. "So I took some rarely used advice from good-old school and drew a time line of the Efforts' births—"

"Woha, hold up!" Jazz exclaimed, breaking from his wrestling match. "You actually put your processor to use??"

"Yes," Max sighed, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, I was right: There are two really little Decepticon Efforts, the ones Benjamin saw in the garden way back in Transport City, and the kids of Skywarp and Thundercracker, right? So they're younger than us, which means they were created after us. My bone to pick is this: If we had already been created, thus ending the use of Project Smelting—or Abominations, as Breaker Labs called it—then why did they even make the little kids?"

"Who knows who cares?" Ironhide snorted, getting a cube of energon from the dispensing machine in the corner. "Those dirty, no-good, double-crossing liars played on the worlds' desire for a better peace bond and offered to make us kids, only to twist that promise by making those abominations of off spring for the Decepticons. Then they let the Decepticons live long enough for them to get out, on top of that! For all we know, they made the little Seeker squats because they just wanted a full set. Damn freaks, I can't wait until Prowl's team and the other Efforts haul some Breaker Lab employee aft in to kick around for answers…"

As if summoned by his name, the Ark's communications systems crackled to life and Prowl spoke, his voice muffled and quiet from distance.

"Autobot Prowl to base; the Breaker Labs headquarters we raided was empty and booby trapped, killing almost half our squad and injuring the rest. Requesting emergency transportation as quickly as possible…"

Everyone froze in shock, even the cheery Josh and Jazz. As one, everyone looked at Ironhide. Ironhide's optics were wide open in shock and his jaw had dropped open. One of his optics twitched as his energon cube slowly slipped from his fingers. It had not even hit the ground before he had transformed and, with an enraged engine roar not usual of his van alt mode, sped out of the room, leaving rubber burn marks on the tiled floor.

"Skyfire!!" he roared at the top of his metallic, metaphorical lungs, "Charge up NOW!!!"

- - - - -

Her home was near an enormous scrap yard where the rust of the scrap created a fine dust that

covered everything like it was an American Dust Bowl. Around the scrap yard, quite a few Transformers had started a living by fixing up things to save them from the scarp yard, scavenging out useful bits, or processing metal for a better price than the yard. Her own father worked at creating and repairing vehicles that way a mech's beloved, age-old, memory-worn space cruiser or hover bike wouldn't have to be thrown away simply because it was old.

Outside, her home looked somewhat run down, with large tin sheets making up a fence and numerous bits and pieces of metal strewn all about the rust dust-filled yard and along its sides. The home itself was small, but the perfect size for a family of two. Inside, though, the home was clean and pristine with the usual polished metal and hard surfaces and everything outfitted as it should be.

Entering the yard through a gap in the fencing, she saw that her father was currently in the yard, repairing a part for another mech. The teal green and pale blue Transformer looked up and smiled as he waved a greeting hand.

"Hey, Alias! How was school?" he called.

Alias flashed a thumbs-up sign, looking at her father's customer before bolting into the home.

"Don't mind her, she's just shy," the father told his customer.

"Ah, I know how that feels, Dudbud," the customer chuckled. "My own kids can still hardly talk to strangers without hiding behind me. By the way, did you hear? They say that the Autobots are getting complains from the Cybertronian Counsel!"

"Really, now?" Dudbud asked. "For what?"

"Eh, military and political jargon is beyond me, but basically I think it has to do with them and their Efforts."

"Huh, hope they'll be okay," Dudbud said, handing the completed part to his customer.

"Me too," the customer agreed.

Alias, over hearing inside the house, mutely agreed.

- - - - -

Light! Light! Juggernaut no like light! Juggernaut know that light bad! With light came pain! With light came sharp, pointy needles poking into Juggernaut's hard skin, making Juggernaut experience pain like no other! Oh no, not light! Not light! Light burn Juggernaut's eyes, light make Juggernaut's feet burn when floor spit painful sparks, light mean pain. No! Juggernaut no like this! What did Juggernaut do wrong! Juggernaut want out! Juggernaut want out of room to kill pain maker! Kill the pain maker!

Face on wall: What does face on wall mean, Juggernaut wonder? Maybe funny red face is pain maker, attack pain maker, attack red face! Wait; pain lessen now. Yes, red face pain maker! But Juggernaut not dumb; Juggernaut know that red face on wall is not actual pain maker. Yes, Juggernaut would find actual red face pain maker and kill the pain maker!

- - - -

Moriguchi nodded in approval when he saw Juggernaut rip apart the Autobot insignia on the wall.

"With a little discipline," he muttered. "It's easy to train a beast. Which reminds me of preparation, which I must add…"

He turned to the messenger standing near him.

"Did the Governor of California transfer the funds yet?" he asked, "We need to guy a fresh load of chemicals soon or we are going to find ourselves in a sore spot indeed."

"Yes, sir, he has, but he is insisting that he gets the central States as well as the western coast for 'bleeding him dry' so much, and the fact that funding us is putting him at huge risk for a scandal."

"Pfft. You tell that fat dolt that if he wanted to stay away from scandals, then he shouldn't have become a member of the BLOOD. Also remind him that without his participation, he, his family and friends, and his precious west coast will all burn when the revolution day comes. Take that to him, and tell him to make sure that our stations in California aren't investigated by the Autobots."

The messenger saluted and left. Behind Moriguchi, a bestial roar ripped out of his pet monster and a panel of wall bearing the Autobot insignia crashed into the viewing room's window, sending a spider web of cracks across its surface. Moriguchi merely strode out of the room, moving on to more important business.