Chapter 7 – Burn
It was strange, the way smoke tinted the sky above it. The ashen clouds rose slowly from their source, a tiny flame dancing on a makeshift fireplace at the opening of the cave. The rising sun glowed a dusty orange from the perspective of the viewer looking through the smoke, who passed his time in silence by watching how the morning breeze affected the way it climbed into the sky.
"You're going to go blind if you keep looking at the sun," A thin, purple dragon looked down at the shorter one, an annoyed frown adorning his face.
The Sweep, one of the Decepticon Scourge's identical subordinates, shrugged innocently in the face of Cyclonus. The small blue tracker had no business disrespecting a bot who was clearly far superior to him in rank, but neither the Sweep's lack of concern for social order nor the situation they all found themselves in convinced him to behave any differently.
Cyclonus stared at the Sweep for a moment in half-hearted irritation before shifting his attention to the huddled forms in the back of the cave. A red dragon broke off from the group, walking on only three legs. In his occupied paw the Decepticon Seeker clutched a blue gem. His claws were tense, desperately securing the stone in his grasp like his life depended on it (and with how his leader treated every mission, it very much did).
Starscream barely acknowledged Cyclonus. His head remained straight and level, eyes narrow, mouth pressed into a firm line. He was silent, wings pressed firmly against his back, back to the dark hole he had finally been freed from.
The cave sat in one of the only clearings in the dark forest. It was small, drafty, and unbelievably cold at night, but it did its job of providing shelter for the Decepticons after their defeat at the hands of the Autobots in the Scorched Earth. No one dared mention that incident, especially when their leader, who was burned badly by the blast of a certain femme's fury, was lumbering about. Most of the time he stayed in the cave he personally picked for his troops to recover and rest in, but on the few occasions he decided to come into the light of day, no one dared speak for fear of backlash in the form of unstable electricity that crackled in their leader's scowling jaws.
When Galvatron finally emerged from the shadows of the cave, his larger form hung over Starscream, causing the Seeker to flinch, inching himself away in discomfort. The Decepticon leader's gaze forced most of his subordinates to look away, focusing on anything other than their leader. The tiny fire suddenly became very interesting to most of the Decepticons present.
Behind Galvatron stood his equally silent, though less emotional communications officer. Soundwave had been the other Decepticon who received the brunt of Cylinder's fury attack while in dragon form. The flames severely burned his throat and face, damaging his already disembodied voice. The lack of medical resources and an actual medic did nothing to help the Decepticon, who remained trapped in literal silence since the conflict months ago. Not that he would have complained, even if he could speak.
In the tension, Starscream made the mistake of looking back at the Decepticon leader, whose blood-red eyes practically stared directly into his spark. Starscream shuddered, and without saying a word, turned and took off into the sky, the gust of wind from his large wings extinguishing the small flame. Anything to get away from Galvatron, he thought.
The plan was now in motion effect. Several months of preparing, scouting, and espionage all led up to this day, and for once since the time they came here, the Decepticons had a chance to establish themselves on this Allspark-forsaken rock. If all went well, they could finally stretch their legs in their true forms, not hide like animals in these weak reptilian bodies. Every Decepticon longed for that moment, craved the idea of returning to the forms they rightfully belonged in.
The energon Cylinder destroyed had not completely suffered, and the one remaining shard was enough to eventually get the Decepticons back to a position of supremacy, but they wanted more. They needed more. Months of careful observation had determined that there had to be more energon in Syandemel, sitting right under every dragon's filthy snouts without even realizing it. It was about time the Decepticons earned back the respect they deserved, and if all went well on Starscream's end, they would once again be in a prime position to start anew in this seemingly endless war.
Cyclonus, the only Decepticon confident enough to approach his leader without the fear of getting shot (or electrocuted in this state), eyed Starscream's disappearing form disdainfully. "I still don't understand why we're trusting him," he mused.
Galvatron casually smirked at the comment, before turning back towards the cave, eyeing something emitting a soft glow guarded carefully by Soundwave (and Scourge, who had just returned from no doubt stuffing his face with the food this planet had to offer).
"I don't really care," Galvatron replied, motioning for his subordinates to move out of the way.
For the Decepticon leader, there was one fundamental law of the universe: everything was made up of either chaos, or ordered chaos. There was nothing in the universe more satisfying to Galvatron's restless spark than the disturbance of something clam, the creation of more chaos in an already chaotic world, or the destruction of once established peace.
The Decepticon warlord had never known a peaceful world in his existence that at this point could transcend time, and for him, only chaos could make his visions become a reality, to recreate the world in his image and make it a better place. For many years he had been in conflict with himself. A battle between his spark and his mind distracted him from seeing his vision through to the end, lost in a universe where its pandemonium clashed with his own – where his struggle remained the same but his vision became clouded and nothing made any sense.
Over time Galvatron found himself trapped in the middle of that chaos, ultimately forgetting who he was, what he stood for, and his purpose, living simply for war, carrying the mantra of previous warriors who had left their mark on history through utter devastation. In a sense, he became them, losing himself in battle after battle until the lines between his understanding of controlled and uncontrolled chaos became blurred, forming a gray area the universe could not control. And that was where Galvatron floated.
Not anymore.
Galvatron briefly flashed a smile of amusement towards his second in command, the fiery light returning to his dull eyes, "Starscream can do what he wants. You know as well as I that he lives for subjugating those he believes to be weaker than him. He thrives on it. All I care about is making Syandemel anxious."
The Decepticon leader returned his gaze in front of him to the blue object sitting against the wall. It was much larger than it had been only a few months ago, and it was growing everyday. Now was the time to put it to use.
Several hours later
Embers fell to the ground like a snowstorm as exhausted dragons ran in every direction to suppress the flames consuming their city. Initial reports determined the cause to be a lightning strike, but how was it possible for plants to catch fire that easily when it was the rainy season in this region? There was just no way it could have spread that quickly either. The air was still, and the windy seasons were far off. The only way to get something to move that quickly was if it was forced.
The fire consumed everything in its path, even finding joy in moving along the stone structures of the prisons. Starscream backed against his iron bars as the embers rained through his tiny window, the smoke becoming too thick to breathe. The Seeker could feel the heat on the other side of the wall, indicating that the fire was dangerously close. Nice to know the dragons were concerned for the well being of their detainees. The Seeker almost began to accept his end when a young, raspy voice called from behind him.
"Y'know, all my better impulses are telling me to let you burn to a crisp, but I think I'd be ripped apart if I let what you know die with you." A black dragon, barely taller than the Seeker stood before his cell, relaxed as though he was unaware of what was happening outside. The entire room had become a furnace, yet the dragon pretended not to notice.
There was something familiar about the red eyes that stared back at Starscream, not because he knew the dragon before him, but because something else caused him to stare perplexedly.
"I've heard worse threats from my creators," Starscream growled, flexing his wings in an attempt to wave the heat that hung oppressively over him. "And you are…?" he looked the dragon up and down to deepen the insult.
The black dragon snorted, "I'm crushed that you don't remember an average foot soldier, Starscream."
"Getting to know cannon fodder is not very high on my list of priorities," Starscream retorted.
The dragon's lips curled at the edges, snarling. He was already having second thoughts about even being here. The chaos and scrambling of dragons gave him the privilege of basking in the fear, terror, and confusion.
"The locals have been calling me Chaar," he started, frowning when Starscream rolled his eyes at the use of the Decepticons' home planet for his alias, "But my creator named me Barricade."
"Original," Starscream replied flatly, "Now what do you want?"
"Well I want to help you out of here, but not without a price. What can you give me in return for saving your life?"
Starscream stood still for a moment to take the statement in before erupting into a fit of screechy laughter, tears filling his organic eyes as he looked at the pathetic excuse for a Decepticon before him. "You, a foot soldier, trying to strike a deal with me?" he laughed again, steadying himself with a deep breath, tone suddenly growing serious. "Do you know how I got to be where I am in the Decepticon ranks? Do you honestly think I ever received help in exchange for favors at my expense? I never make a promise I don't intend to keep. I know you all must think I'm dumb, but I would never stoop so low as to bargain with a nobody for personal benefit, no matter how dire the circumstance. You get nothing whether you let me out of here or not. But just as you said, if Galvatron finds out you had the opportunity to save the vessel of information he's been searching for and you didn't, well, I bet you could imagine what comes next."
"You bargained with the Autobot scum to save yourself from getting killed."
"No, I found away to get inside. When I realized I couldn't beat them, I made them think I was a valuable asset, and gave them a reason to keep me alive. There was no bargaining there, only persuading." It was true that Starscream had gotten into a dangerous situation, losing nearly a quarter of his energon in the process, but his intentions had still been planned down to the last detail – surrender to the aggressive Syandemel armies he had studied for months and then decimate the city from the inside. He admitted he had been surprised when the Autobots showed up, but at least it made his act all the more convincing. The change back to his dragon form was the only bump in his plan.
Barricade snarled once more, "Your scheming got you killed last time, and you want to risk your life again?"
"If I die, I'll come back," Starscream responded coolly, causing the Decepticon to break his threatening stare ever so slightly. "My spark is destined for it. If I had truly died the first time, I wouldn't be here. And if I die again, I'll just keep coming back, and you can be sure the next person on my hit list will be you, Barricade."
Taking a few steps back, Barricade realized he had played right into Starscream's scheming hand. Starscream had always been a master at playing from every angle, making his opponent think they had the upper hand when in reality they always walked right into an irrevocable game of words. Now there was no scenario where the Decepticon scout could come out of this with some sort of advantage, and that thought disturbed him greatly as he watched the smirk on the face across from him grow.
Grumbling in frustration but knowing the situation he faced, Barricade pictured his leader's terrifying gaze in his mind. Only an hour before the attack the Decepticon scout had snuck out of the city to rendezvous with Galvatron, returning with the task of locating Starscream. Fortunately he had watched the whole spectacle with the Autobots unfold from a safe watchtower no one occupied. Watching Cylinder take out her frustration from earlier on a different Decepticon was satisfying, to say the least.
Producing a key, Barricade shoved it in the iron lock, releasing Starscream as the smoke began to darken the room, obscuring any light that had found its way in.
Without missing a beat, Barricade handed Starscream another blue shard from the crystal in the cave, muttering something about "looking pretty for the boss."
Minutes later, a disheveled guard came into the room to move the prisoner from the building now almost entirely engulfed in flames, but the cell was empty. Starscream was nowhere to be found.
Red. Cylinder hated that color. Minus the red Autobot crest she wore on her wings, the femme absolutely refused to wear the color anywhere else. It was an ugly color, not so much because it looked bad on other 'bots, but because it represented all the bad things in her life – blood, fire, Rodimus becoming the Autobot leader … the eyes of a warlord who lost his conscience to the void eons ago.
Even in his dragon form, Galvatron's piercing blood red eyes reached across the span of Syandemel, through the flames that demolished the already decimated landscape, staring directly into the femme's optics. Cylinder could feel her circuits crawl the moment their eyes met, knowing full well he saw her just as well as she could see him. Without even realizing it, she began to walk forward, never once averting her gaze, though scowling when the Decepticon leader's stoic face broke into a wide grin.
Let her come, a voice, much darker than the one she was used to, seemed to ring throughout Cylinder's audios. But this felt outside her body, floating in the air as if luring her rather than pushing her onwards. Maybe the heat was getting to her, and no one else seemed to stop what they were doing to figure out where the sound came from. It was barely even audible in her ears. Whatever it was, it appeared to be working, as the Aerialbot continued to move forward, stepping over burning rubble and recently deceased dragons.
Suddenly she was running, moving as fast as her frame could allow through the congested piles of scrap and flames. Behind her, another voice called out, though this one was much more familiar.
"Cyl!" Silver called, doing her best to maneuver around the burning buildings and smoke to catch up to the Autobot femme. This particular sector had taken a heavy amount of damage from the fire that practically started from nothing, but there was something else about it that caused the city's destruction almost instantly. As she flew by, the dragoness noticed large, concentrated black scorch marks on the ground and against some of the buildings, like ricochets from high-heat projectiles. Other walls had burning holes in them, while some buildings had already collapsed before the fire even got to them. Two things became clear in Silver's mind: the Decepticons were here, turning Syandemel into a warzone, and the Autobots, even with the dragons, were hopelessly outnumbered. That probably explained why Cylinder was running so fast.
The blue femme had no idea why she was running, or why her body refused to slow down for the struggling gray dragoness, who was probably having a hell of a time breathing down here. Eventually Silver caught up, wheezing and blinking furiously to get the ash and smoke out of her eyes.
"Silver, don't follow me," Cylinder said, "You can't fight them. Go help the other guardians."
Silver shot an incredulous glare at the femme, "And leave you alone? They sent me to help you. Don't just charge! We need a plan!"
The dragoness watched as Cylinder kept her head trained on a purple object standing on one of the plateaus jutting out from the city's central mountain, directly above the Grand Temple. The heat waves rising from the ground distorted the landscape, but Silver was certain a dragon was staring back at them. Was that who Cylinder was after? Was it another metal behemoth disguised as her own kind?
Cylinder eventually slowed her pace a little and lowered her head, briefly switching off her optics in thought. Both she and Silver finally cleared the burning area by the prisons, though the flames still engulfed nearly half the city and the surrounding mountainous forest. That did not bode well for some of the city's mountain dragons, Silver thought.
Cylinder knew Silver was right about her recklessness. This was completely rash, something very uncharacteristic of the femme even when she was younger and itching to fight. But something that always drove her to battle was protecting those she cared about. Standing by to watch Syandemel burn to ashes was nowhere in her programming, so on that logic she kept running.
With a sigh, Cylinder finally broke her focus on Galvatron, and looked back at Silver. The dragoness was panting heavily, pushing her wings to keep up. The thin, smoky air was probably doing nothing to help her fly any better, weakening her already tiny body. "I have to do something," the femme finally said, optics glowing a little brighter than before. "Like I told you before, I can't just sit by and watch this world burn, knowing I had the chance to stop it. If I have to buy you time, then so be it."
Silver didn't respond, a sense of terror filling her normally bright eyes.
Cylinder replied with a sad smile, "I know what you're thinking." It was true. Though she could not read an organic mind, the gray dragoness eyes gave it away.
"You're gonna get hurt, or worse –"
"What other choices do we have?" the femme snapped, though it was not so harsh as to scare the dragoness next to her.
"Tons!" Silver shouted, coughing as the smoke filled her lungs. "Wait for help, just don't go it alone! If you Autobots are so obsessed with honor in battle you need to get over it here. Dragons work in teams. Look, Cyl, there's something off about you, the way you're running towards that dragon like a being possessed. It's not right!"
Cylinder made a noise that sounded like an agreement, though she kept running. "I know," she said, "But waiting won't stop any of this. Looks like you're going to see my alt-mode after all. Stay safe, and stand back."
Before she could comprehend just what the femme was saying, Silver was violently knocked to the ground by the blast of two jet engines. She rolled for a bit, trying to steady herself with her wings, but whatever the blast was it carried with it a powerful shockwave that kept her pinned to the ground. When she finally skidded to a stop, she noticed she was covered in enough bruises and cuts to look like she had just rolled all the way down Syandemel's rocky peaks. Looking up, a blue and gold jet thundered overhead, moving much faster than the femme that vehicle was made of.
Her low fuel levels from the lack of energon since she left Cybertron made Cylinder drowsy, clouding her vision and leaving a weird ringing noise in her audios. Transforming only made the sluggishness worse, and lighting her afterburners to go to full speed almost instantly felt like a kick to the spinal strut. She knew she was running dangerously low. It was only a matter of time before both she and Rodimus went into stasis if they kept fighting like this.
I'd give it a few hours, she muttered to herself, though she was sure the Voice was listening somewhere.
As the hornet shot across the charcoal-black sky, Cylinder kept Galvatron in her heads up display, locking onto his energy signature despite having no bullets to fire.
If she had not been flying so fast, maybe the blast that came from the left would not have affected her as badly as it did. The perfectly timed, hauntingly accurate blast merely deflected off of her body, but it was enough to throw everything off. Her momentum was the real enemy here, re-routing the direction of her thrusters when disrupted by the slightest bit of outside force, knocking her entire body off course. Before she was able to regain her senses, the jet spiraled out of control and crashed into the forest just beyond the city walls.
The fire was spreading too damn quickly. In less than a half hour, nearly half the city was engulfed. Dragons tried to flee, only to be stopped before they could break Syandemel's heavily besieged borders and either shot on sight by Soundwave and his train of mini-cons, or ripped apart by Scourge and his subordinates. Slowly realizing they were trapped, dragons started moving underground or simply gave up when approached by robotic forms that looked even more menacing than the red one that attacked the city yesterday. Very few chose to fight. Scourge seemed to take a liking to executing the ones who did decide to resist. Among those courageous enough were the guardians, fighting alongside Rodimus to clear an escape route into the forest he, Cylinder, and Silver had come from the day before. The Decepticons seemed to ignore Rodimus, which disturbed him greatly. On the other hand, being left alone meant he could help more civilians escape.
The Matrix inside Rodimus stirred aggressively, begging him to be used, but the Autobot leader knew that even the Matrix was aware it could only do so much in this state. And even if the Decepticon attack were halted, that would not change the wildfire that barreled through the city streets he had walked through only an hour ago.
Behind him Rodimus heard a scream. A light blue dragoness, from what he could tell was a water dragon because he had seen her fighting the fires earlier, had her wing caught under a fallen support beam, helplessly trying to drag herself out of a collapsing building. As the stones came tumbling down, she closed her eyes, waiting to be crushed, but even though she heard the sounds and felt the embers kick up into her face, she felt no change in the weight on her back. It was then she noticed the large presence standing over her.
Opening her eyes, the dragoness looked up into Rodimus' bright blue optics. The Autobot leader could not stop the collapse, but at least he could bear the brunt of it. His back whined in protest from the weight. Somewhere a warning popped up in his vision, indicating damage in his left shoulder. Thankfully it was only a minor injury.
"Are you alright?" he asked, panting from the stress on his weakening body.
The dragoness could only nod in reply.
Rodimus lifted the beam off of her, signaling to a medic that it was safe to come over. Apparently the doctors in this city all possessed the Godly element, the element of healing. It was the same as Silver, who used her own power to heal Cylinder's concussion now two days ago.
Was it two days ago? The sky was black from smoke and his internal chronometer read in Cybertronian time. As he freed himself from the collapsed building, the flames now subsiding because they had run out of materials to burn, Rodimus looked out beyond the city gates in the western forest they had come from yesterday, where the sun should have been rising for this planet. Only a tiny bit of pink sky poked through the dark clouds and falling ash, but at least he had a grasp on what time of day it was.
"Rodimus!" A familiar voice shouted over the chaos. The Autobot leader turned to see Aesir rushing towards him. The Fire Guardian had abandoned his cloak and all symbols of power so he could move faster. It almost looked weird seeing him without them.
Immediately Rodimus saw the terror in Aesir's eyes. Something bad must have happened. "What's wrong?" he asked, thinking of all the possible things that could make this situation even worse.
Panting, Aesir lowered his head to catch his breath, before replying, "Starscream's gone."
Rodimus started to speak but stopped himself. This was not a time for jokes, but he could tell by the look in Aesir's face that the guardian was being dead serious. "What do you mean he's gone? Where'd he go?"
The sound of thrusters caused Rodimus to look across the city to the East. A blue jet thundered overhead, heading straight for the only Decepticon who had not changed back to his robot form yet. Galvatron stood still. That did not look good at all. The Autobot leader immediately activated his radio, syncing to Cylinder's frequency out of panic.
Cyl, don't! It's a trap! Starscream's –
The femme never received the message. Starscream's null ray made sure of that, knocking her systems offline and her body out of the sky. The blast looked like nothing on the surface, but inside, Rodimus could picture the electrical current wrapping around Cylinder's circuits and squeezing the life out of them.
It was over in seconds, but Rodimus and half the population of Syandemel watched helplessly for what felt like hours as the strongest warrior they had fighting for them was savagely shot out of the sky.
Cursing in Cybertronian, Rodimus started to run, but judging by how quickly the forest beyond the walls was being swarmed by Decepticons, he knew he would be too late. Coming to terms with that, Rodimus slowed, realizing it was over for the femme. There was nothing he could do to change her situation, and rather then running over to maybe help a little, he would soon be overwhelmed by the other Decepticons who rushed to watch the spectacle. Of course they would not mind taking out the Autobot leader (and the Matrix) should they desire an encore.
But two Decepticons, Galvatron and Soundwave, remained stationary. And they might as well have been the most important ringleaders in all of this. He realized another thing: with everyone attacking his fallen comrade, the walls were suddenly left without heavy security.
Touching the Matrix, Rodimus accepted the loss of his friend; the femme who gave him hell but also saved him from hell many times was gone. May she find eternal rest in the Well of Allsparks … if she could with her artificial spark, that was.
Rodimus turned, shouting to Aesir, "Go! Take advantage of the opening, and don't look back!"
Aesir wanted to protest, but he knew as well as anyone that this one window might have been the only one the dragons got to escape the city, once thought impenetrable, as it burned to the ground.
Satisfied that Aesir was obeying, Rodimus hoped Silver was with them, then charged forward. He was not sure what he could do – he was outnumbered, low on fuel, and unbelievably tired. Could he die today? Maybe. Maybe today was it. But he shoved that thought behind him, readying the Matrix just in case. He knew the Decepticons would not hesitate to go after it, so if he could empty it and use its force against them, he knew he would save a lot of lives in the long run. If he could at least buy the dragons some extra time, like Cylinder no doubt had planned to do, the fight would still be worth it.
Silver groaned as she finally stood up, head ringing with the noise of Cylinder's thrusters still echoing in her mind. She hoped the femme was okay.
The gray dragoness looked at her surroundings. She was in an oval-shaped courtyard with buildings surrounding its perimeter. One look at the overturned carts and scattered goods, food, and other small items made it apparent that her body had been flung into a marketplace. Silver could feel the heat on her back. The fire was getting close here. At that same moment, long forgotten memories took this opportunity to resurface.
Fire. Overwhelming heat. Sickness. Unquenchable thirst. Pain. Agony.
The images tortured their victim, leaving Silver unable to move.
When she finally gathered her bearings and pushed the thoughts out of her head, Silver tried to move, but winced when she put weight on her back right paw. Inspecting it closer, Silver noticed the slightly burned scales, but what caused the pain was her inability to flex it beyond a standing position. It was then that she remembered she had landed on it awkwardly when she was thrown out of the way.
Clenching her teeth, Silver tried not to blame Cylinder. The blue femme was just doing her job. She was in a hurry. She didn't know any better. Though Silver was not so sure she was convinced on that last point.
Angrily Silver shot her glare to the blackened sky, but even the cloudy barrier would not change what she saw ahead of her, miles away, tucked safely in the night sky. Somewhere beyond this planet's atmosphere, the moon sat patiently, watching over the Dragon Realms in silence. And if it truly saw all, it sure as hell saw Syandemel going up in smoke.
"Where the hell are you?" Silver screamed to the sky, though the response she got was not the one she was expecting to hear.
"Were you talking to us, little one?" a deep voice called out. In front of her two robots, one light purple and one light blue, both with dark red eyes, touched down in the large courtyard. Silver suddenly realized this place was the perfect size for a makeshift combat ring, and something inside her told her the Decepticons thought the same; though they probably saw it as being more along the lines of an arena for a gallows. They were the lions, and she, the helpless martyr.
Cyclonus and Scourge had left the scene of Cylinder's crash, confident Starscream could handle it on his own, and were heading to help Galvatron, now in robot mode, engaging Rodimus with Soundwave, when they heard the little gray dragoness' helpless shrieks. Poor thing must have been having a mental breakdown.
Galvatron and Soundwave were doing fine against Rodimus anyway, Scourge mused to himself. Why not take a quick break? What was one more dragon to this dying city?
"Scourge," Cyclonus grumbled, "Stop wasting your time with these insects. We've done enough."
Scourge frowned, but approached towards the dragon anyway.
Cyclonus leaned against one of the buildings and waved Scourge on, clearly not impressed with neither his listening skills nor his lust for killing unarmed innocents. "Just make it quick," he muttered disapprovingly.
"Why? The fighters make it interesting," Scourge protested, already readying his blaster. Cyclonus rolled is optics, making a noise that signaled to Scourge to do whatever the hell he wanted. Not like the Decepticon second in command was going to stop his comrade anyway.
Scourge smirked at the gray dragoness who backed away slowly, head and wings low, trying her best to work through the pain that shot through her leg.
Neither Decepticon noticed it, but the temperature in the makeshift arena suddenly dropped significantly. They did notice the wind, but paid no attention to it. It was the ground, slowly frosting over at his feet, that finally forced Cyclonus' to say something.
"Um, Scourge," the Decepticon warrior muttered.
"Oh what, now you want to participate?" Scourge grumbled, looking over his shoulder. He raised an optic ridge when Cyclonus pointed to the ground, and after looking down and noticing the ice he turned back to Silver.
"What are you going to do? Freeze us to death? I use the Ice element too, kid. Not gonna work on us."
The dragoness muttered something incoherent.
"What?" Scourge demanded, moving closer.
"It's not Ice!" Silver shouted through the pain, tasting blood in her mouth for the first time in years. She must have cracked a rib somewhere. She breathed steadily, her icy breath evaporating into the air. "It's Frost."
"What's that supposed to –" before Cyclonus could finish, both he and Scourge suddenly found themselves unable to move. They were frozen to the ground, energon cooling rapidly. The lifeblood of all transformers had an extremely low freezing point that made it the ideal fuel for even the worst conditions, especially the cold void of space. Their physics may not have made much sense to her, but Silver was grateful she asked Cylinder about it anyway. The Decepticons noticed the dragoness had some understanding of the energon as well, and if the energon in their heated bodies barely moved through their circuits, whatever this little dragon summoned had to be colder than space itself, way beyond the point of sub-zero temperatures.
But Silver knew this would not last forever. It was only a matter of time before their warm energon would melt the frost in their wires. Taking advantage of her slowed opponents, in her weakened state the dragoness raised her paw, claws flexed like a chokehold.
They waited, but nothing happened. She did it again, this time with more force, but just as before, everything remained as it was. Realizing the dragoness was losing her strength, both Cyclonus and Scourge could feel her grip on their bodies relaxing. The energon was flowing again. Scourge was the first to break free, immediately rushing the dragoness and wrapping his free hand around her tightly. So much for a quick death, he thought.
Silver could feel another rib crack as she struggled to break free, but the Decepticon was not having it. His grip only tightened.
"That was it?" Scourge hissed, barely noticing when Cyclonus broke free of the ice. "Now you've asked for it. Come on, you have to be better than that to stop us."
All it took was one meteor to prove that Silver was, indeed, better than that. The flaming rock shot from the sky, through the smoke, barreling straight for the light blue Decepticon. In an instant, Scourge was hit with a force many times stronger than Galvatron's backhand and was sent flying into the building at the back of the marketplace arena. He immediately let go off Silver, dropping her to the ground, but she did not care.
It finally worked. All these years of being unable to muster Galactic, and now, when she needed it most, it worked.
Cyclonus gaped at Scourge's mangled frame as he lay dazed in the rubble of the building that had been there only minutes ago. The light blue Decepticon groaned. There was no way he was getting up from that for a while. Returning his attention to Silver, the purple Decepticon second in command barely had enough time to draw his own blaster when another meteor slammed into his side, sending him flying through the air and into another cluster of burning buildings.
Breathing heavily, Silver collapsed, trying desperately to get air back into her lungs, but all she swallowed was ash. Her fight was not over then. If she wanted to live, she needed to get out of the city, to a place where she could breathe. Slowly, the dragoness pushed herself to her feet, gritting her teeth in pain. She flexed her wings and carefully pushed herself off the ground, ignoring the burning in her chest. She could have used Godly on herself, but right now, she lacked the will to care.
Cylinder was not a stranger to being shot out of the sky. Part of being a flying Cybertronian was that you were also a wide-open target, and all it took was one expertly guided shot to bring you down. Before she crashed into the trees, though she had lost her systems and her engines disobeyed her will, Cylinder still had enough strength to steer herself, tilting the control surfaces on her wings ever so slightly to level herself and pitch up. This way she would not completely mangle her wings on impact, but land belly-first in the thick ravine. Nothing was worse to a flyer than severely damaged wings.
The sky was bright and blue, outside the walls. Wow, did time move quickly here. That, or the days here really were just extremely short. The smoke, making everything appear dull and lifeless, obstructed the sunlight. Come to think of it, this was not the first time Cylinder had seen a desolate landscape in combat. There were many days on both Earth and Cybertron when the world around her stood still, and the light was hidden by darkness. There were also many times where she, in that moment, felt as though she had been sitting on death's doorstep, waiting patiently for the end that never came.
Untangling herself from the splintered wood, Cylinder immediately noticed something was off about her processor. She transformed, realizing the left side of her face felt sluggish, unable to keep up with what the right side was able to perceive. She touched her optic, frowning when she noticed the large crack running through the center. The lens behind the cracked screen flickered but could not regain focus. Wonderful.
Guiding her undamaged optic, Cylinder had to recheck her systems to make sure she was not imagining things. Before her stood a familiar black dragon with purple accents. Why did it look so familiar? She knew she had seen it before, but her memory core offered nothing to supplement the thought.
It was not until the dragon crushed a blue stone at his feet and changed shape did Cylinder remember who it was.
"You – the –"
"Barricade," the Decepticon interrupted her, body relaxed, as he looked the injured femme up and down. He knew she was in bad shape, but he also knew most Autobots had a nasty habit of fighting long past their limits. "I have to say," he continued, moving a little closer, "It was hard hiding from you. You were right all along, so props to you for figuring me out. It's too bad no one believed you."
So she was right. The black dragon was a Decepticon. Cylinder's vocalizer, struggling to produce words, emitted a low growl instead at the scout. Her systems were still foggy, desperately trying to readjust to whatever hit her. The only thing she could think of was a shot from a null ray, an electromagnetic pulse weapon created specifically for shutting-down electronic systems. But the only 'bot she could think of who had a null ray was Starscream, and wasn't he in prison right now?
Apparently he wasn't.
As Cylinder instinctively reached for her swords, driven forward by a new surge of anger at the Decepticon despite her lethargic systems, she was puzzled to find that her swords were gone. When she looked over her shoulder to see if she had lost them when she transformed back to robot mode, the femme was knocked back against a tree, the biting sensation of a sharp blade in her wing and abdomen causing the little remaining energon in her body to lurch. When she looked down, one of her swords had been driven through her body and the tree against her back; the other pierced her left wing.
In his robot mode, Starscream's face hovered just inches from Cylinder's, beaming at his accomplishment. Energon seeped from both wounds and dribbled from the femme's chin. Multiple energon loss warnings slowly popped up in her processor, alerting her just how low on energy she actually was.
Gripping the swords tighter, Starscream used his weight to sink them deeper into their rightful owner, laughing at the twisted expression of agony on her face.
"Sorry, did that hurt?" he asked, titling his head to the side enough to show Cylinder the medical tape she had used to patch up his bleeding neck yesterday. "Now you know how I feel –"
He was cut off when Cylinder spat warm, pink energon on his face. Growling, Starscream ripped the blade in her wing out and threw it to the ground before using that hand to punch her in the face. More of the energon splattered on the ground and the tree trunk behind her. What a disgusting femme, he thought.
By this point Cylinder had noticed a few Sweeps, along with Cyclonus and Scourge, were spectating, encouraging Starscream to finish what they had started in the cave in the Scorched Earth. In the distance her foggy vision could just barely pick up Rodimus engaging Galvatron and Soundwave. Good. Buy the dragons the time they needed to escape.
This had been the second (third?) time Cylinder had accepted her death in the last few days. It was a morbid thought, but being outnumbered and outmatched did that to a bot who was raised during a time of war. Cylinder hated thinking this was it, but strangely welcomed it all the same. She was ready to die. No more suffering, she thought. Even if her spark could not join the Well, at least she would be free from the pain and burden of war.
It was a bad time to be reminded that the Voice was still a very powerful, ever-present part of her processor.
It doesn't end this way, it spoke, causing Cylinder to tremble.
Starscream raised an optic ridge at the femme who's expression had gone completely blank. Cylinder's one functioning optic glowed a little brighter, and her mouth hung open with her helm titled back as if trapped in a state of shock. Was she dying? No, because her spark was still pulsing normally, if not a little fast. She was not convulsing like bots normally do when they're stabbed. Maybe he missed her spinal strut? The Seeker was always so deliberate when it came to hand-to-hand (albeit very one-sided) combat, but there was always a little room for error, especially with an unconventional design like hers.
Suddenly, the femme raised the only weapon she had – the thrusters in her feet. The force from the blast knocked Starscream back several feet and pulled the blade in her abdomen partially out of the tree it was wedged in. Using the rest of this newfound strength, Cylinder yanked the blade out in one tug, commanding her self-sealing systems to patch up the wound as best they could. Grabbing the other sword on the ground, she wiped her own energon off the blades before charging Starscream. As she raised her blades to strike with all the weight she could put behind them, the femme paused when Starscream was no longer there.
A meteor the size of a dragon slammed into the red Decepticon, knocking him a good hundred yards away form where he was sitting. Another flaming rock hit Barricade in the chest, sending him flying into the Sweep behind him.
Cylinder stared for a moment before turning her attention to a thin, gray dragoness rushing to her side. Silver looked like she had been injured badly, but that did not seem to stop the dragoness from throwing every sort of elemental attack she could think of at the even angrier Decepticons to keep them back.
"You need help!" the dragoness managed to shout, "Go! I've got this!" Silver raised her paw and made a clawing motion in the air. A meteor followed the movement, knocking over Starscream as he tried to regain his balance. Was that Galactic?
Cylinder did not have enough time to ask because suddenly she was running again, this time completely against her will, as if her instinctive programming was taking over for her damaged processor. But there was nothing instinctive about it at all.
Silver was shocked when Cylinder actually left, but sighed a bit in relief that the femme had actually listened to her.
Where on this planet could Cylinder possibly find help? The Voice's messages from the past few days played back over her jumbled processor – Ratchet's commands to calm down, Wheeljack's advice, and Ironhide's motivational speech about self-sacrifice for the greater good – none of that was going to stop Galvatron, quell the fire, or protect Silver from being ripped apart. There was no blue energon that either Autobot had possession of, and no way to contact Cybertron, so reinforcements were out of the question. The was nothing she could do to change the outcome, and the realization only drove Cylinder to run faster in desperation for some sort of answer.
Then again, maybe there was something.
It was a quick thought, flowing in and out of her processor as quickly as her stride. It was tangled in the mess that was Cylinder's memory core, shuffling its way through the many other thoughts and images that clouded it. It was just as any other thought – small, insignificant, another actor in the drama that had become her head. But for some reason it lingered, held onto purely out of the Voice's interest.
The Voice had done much to bombard Cylinder with images and random thoughts over the last few days, but it also was a master at picking out what it believed mattered most to the given moment and held onto it tightly, refusing to oust it even when Cylinder tried to fight it off. But this time, she did not fight, only obeyed. Despite all her impulses telling her to ignore the thought and keep looking for help around Syandemel, there was that small part of her, the tiny, but powerful Voice in her head, that convinced her to let it stay. Though she wanted to fight it, her curiosity got the better of her, letting the idea circulate front and center inside her.
Curiosity…
No.
No did not even begin to describe the reaction she felt once the thought became clearer in her mind, and in the one moment the Voice relaxed its grip, Cylinder was able to allow her rationality to peak through and regain control. But that negative reaction, despite coming from somewhere else in her body, was not the blue Aerialbot at all. And it certainly was not the Voice's doing. It had to be something else entirely. And because she never resisted, but entertained the voices with conflicting views, her body kept moving independent of will. Like a vessel possessed, Cylinder never even bothered to lend the weakened Silver a hand, or toss Rodimus one of her swords for an extra boost, or offered to escort fleeing dragons out of Syandemel, but instead ran in a different direction entirely, away from the city, away from the place that had become a battleground, and away from every good thing this world had going for it.
Cylinder's battered metal frame ached in protest as she once again shifted into her jet mode, even though the lack of energon probably would have prevented that from happening under normal circumstances. At this point, she was running on energy completely outside herself and showing no signs of fatigue. Her afterburners flattened the surrounding foliage in the shockwave, quickly propelling her into the sky. With her throttle all the way open, her thrusters roared across the wooded landscape, leaving Syandemel only a faint speck in the distance. Even with the battle raging inside her head for control, the original thought still commanded her. That single objective was the only thing on her mind, even though she had never put it there in the first place.
Slowly Cylinder's navigation systems began to work again, mapping the terrain she crossed and reading back weather reports to a processor that would not listen. Her radar came next, highlighting key points and warning of high-altitude mountains like it had known this land all along.
Finally the battle inside her head had ceased, the Voice coming out victorious. Any subsequent attempt to regain Cylinder's attention was crushed. When a dark, ashen sky appeared on the horizon, the femme gained some sense of awareness and pulled her throttle back, slowing down.
At first it appeared that she had made a round trip around the planet, as her navigation clearly picked out a walled city giving off an extreme amount of heat with black smoke rising high into the sky. These only became similarities to Syandemel when Cylinder noticed the barren, grassless landscape around it and three placid lakes off to the city's right.
A second protest managed to wriggle its way through the traps the Voice had set inside Cylinder's processor, and this time, she heard it loud and clear. The words echoed inside her to make sure she heard them. Turn around, it seemed to say. Stop. Don't do this.
Transforming, Cylinder set down just before the now-abandoned temple that led to the gate to the Scorched Earth. She looked blankly at the carvings that indicated she was visiting a forbidden city, the place where the Commander of Darkness had spent thousands of years sealed away for his crimes against the Dragon Realms. Nothing registered in her own thoughts even though she heard the voices calling to her loud and clear.
The last few minutes were lost on Cylinder. Everything had been a blur. The last thing she remembered was flying towards Galvatron, and now she was here. Where was here? And for that matter, why here? Where was Rodimus and Silver? What happened to the Decepticons? What happened to her processor, and why did she have two gaping holes in her body?
The heat left an uneasy vibe in the back of her head, causing Cylinder to re-examine the area she was in. Looking at the lakes again finally sparked her memory. She knew why she was brought here.
Instinctively, Cylinder tried to turn and run, but felt as though she had been grabbed around the neck and forced to stay, even though there was no one with her but the voices in her head. That one voice, the Voice, came out the strongest once more, like it grew stronger and stronger the closer she got to the dark energy beyond the walls of this barren wasteland.
He was here. She could feel him, calling out to her. It did not matter how many times the good voices called out because the darker one, the one that had been feeding off of her for years now knew her better than she knew herself, playing on every emotion and enslaving every impulse in her body until she was nothing to it but a vessel to do its bidding.
Why? Why was her mind, her processor, disobeying her? Cylinder tried so pull away, but only felt her body being drawn closer to what lied beyond the gate. The only thing that mattered was getting away from it all, but the Voice stubbornly resisted her. Still the echoes of reason stubbornly remained, desperately clinging onto the femme against the will of the force that placed her into total submission. The Aerialbot's body became the vessel of a tug-of-war, two different impulses the teams and her actions the rope. Somehow she felt that those actions would evolve into a noose no matter who won. A noose obviously could not kill her, but it would certainly make her suffer.
Somewhere in the back of her head, above the shouting and fighting, a much softer, more familiar voice called out to Cylinder. It was calm, kind, yet vested with an authoritative tone. At the moment, it spoke more out of desperation than admonishment. A small touch on her shoulder gave Cylinder enough energy to turn around against the Voice, putting her face-to-face with a shorter, black and white mech.
His face was serious, to the point of scolding, but his body reflected more concern than anything. He stood at his full height, just beneath Cylinder's chin. Sapphire optics watched her struggling movements closer, but one look allowed the femme for a moment to tune-out the Voice. This bot had always been a calming presence in her life, guiding her when she was unsure what to do. And against all logic, something he was known for, his physical form stood before her. He was here, and not just a figment in her mind. But more importantly, he was one of her own kind, and that knowledge let Cylinder calm herself for a second, wings lowering slightly.
But when nothing crossed Prowl's face, Cylinder grew irritated from the silence. The sudden thought crossed her mind – what if this was just another vision trying to convince her not to run?
At that moment, Cylinder's vocalizer regained its strength enough for her to talk to this "Prowl" she knew to be long dead. "I don't have time for your stupid visions right now," she grumbled to the Voice, though it was directed at the Prowl before her. "Why am I here?" she demanded.
Naturally, as in every scenario involving her dead comrades, the Voice was silent. The only thing that was different was that she felt the tug at her processor somewhere behind her.
"I'm not the Voice," the Prowl stated, optics never leaving Cylinder's. The femme paused before speaking. No one called it the Voice but her. Not even the Voice gave itself that title, but maybe it had just adopted the namesake to mess with her.
"Stop, I'm not going to listen to a word game, especially not from someone who died a long time ago," Cylinder growled, trying to swat Prowl away like he was nothing but a manifestation in her mind. But instead of disappearing, the former Autobot second in command caught the femme's wrist, sending a jolt of energy through her circuits.
"Cylinder, I need you to listen to me," the Autobot before her stated. "Would I ever have any reason lie to you?"
Cylinder considered the words. Prowl might have lied in the past to keep others from worrying, or to get something done without causing a big fuss, but as the mech before her stated, he never had a solid reason to lie to the blue femme. It became clear to her then that the Voice would never say something like that. That was when she began to understand the gravity in Prowl's tone. This was not some fabrication by the Voice. This was the real thing.
Cylinder nodded slightly and Prowl continued, letting go of the femme's wrist, "I can't allow you to move forward with this. You need to control your own impulses."
"I don't understand," she muttered. Around Prowl other forms began to take shape, one red, one gray and white, and one white and red. Ironhide, Wheeljack, and Ratchet all fixed their optics on Cylinder, but there was no malice behind them, only kindness, warmth, and heartfelt concern. Cylinder's spark pulsed a little faster, feeling a sensation different from what she had felt whenever the Voice spoke to her through them.
"The Voice has been feeding you lies," Prowl continued, "forcing you to do exactly what it wants by attacking your emotions, using us as motivators. It expects you to respond. You can't let that happen anymore."
"You're smarter than that," the image of Ratchet stated with as kind a smile as he could muster.
"Tougher," Ironhide spoke in his gruff drawl.
"The Voice doesn't own you, Cyl," Wheeljack remarked, stepping forward to assert his point. "Only you control your destiny. We all taught you to be better than that, to not surrender to something that uses you to do harm, and we all know you can overcome that. We believe in you."
It was Prowl's turn to speak again, placing a hand on Cylinder's shoulder. She winced from the initial contact since the blast from Starscream's null ray had entered through her at that point, leaving a burn mark, but the pain subsided with Prowl's touch, and she was overcome with a warmer, calmer feeling.
"Don't do this. If you do, you will regret it for as long as you live."
"Autobots don't betray friends," Ironhide added.
"Why does the Voice get to decide what you choose?" Prowl said. And with that, the vision was gone as quickly as it came. Cylinder was alone once more.
The Scorched Earth's barren landscape stretched out beyond her line of sight again, the only sound registering in her audios was the eruption of one of the land's many volcanoes and the flow of magma across the dry, hot surface of the valley beneath them. Most importantly, the Voice was silent.
Prowl did have a point. Maybe Cylinder had surrendered a part of herself to the Voice because she had nothing else to go on and no one to talk to. It just showed up one day and never left, making it the perfect thing to keep her occupied during the days she spent in isolation beneath Cybertron. It was letting it in that put her in a position to obey its will, but there was nothing saying she had to listen. She was able to control the impulses all along, but elected to ignore them when she felt lost.
That meant there was no point in listening to the Voice. Cylinder knew in her spark that walking into the Scorched Earth and freeing Marchosias, just like her dream had wanted her to, would cause nothing but even more pain and turmoil. Cylinder turned away from the temple, readying herself to fly back to Syandemel and hope it was not too late to make a difference, the energy from the encounter beyond the Well leaving her refreshed and ready to fight.
Cylinder was too focused on leaving the Voice alone that she had not realized her hand had reached for the Dragon Stone in her subspace. When she finally noticed the object in her hand, she stopped to examine its rough and cracked surface as it glowed brightly in the dim orange light that reflected off the ashen clouds. Everything in her mind slowed to a halt as she ran a digit over its sharpened surface.
Looking up, Cylinder effortlessly spotted the mountain that contained the vast network of caverns ultimately leading to Marchosias' prison, so carefully hidden that not even the dragons that once occupied this area were entirely sure of its location. There were no voices in her processor, only her own thoughts.
Of course she was in charge of her own destiny. There was no denying that. She controlled every action she took, chose what impulses to obey and what to leave behind. So nothing, not even the Voice stopped her when she ran for the foot of the mountain, bursting through the gate and sprinting over the warm, rocky plain. In one jump she effortlessly cleared the pathway leading up to the mountain itself and barreled through the entrance, turning this way and that through a route she had no recollection of but for some reason knew the right way to go like it was a morning commute.
There were no words when she finally made it to the place she was searching for, only movement. There were no words when the femme deliberately approached a Yellow crystalline wall and a very confused yet delighted basilisk behind it. And there were no words when she swung the Dragon Stone across the wall's surface.
Smoke continued to rise from Syandemel's war-torn streets. By this point, most of the city had been evacuated save for the disabled dragons unable to cross that much terrain as quickly as their more able-bodied brethren. Since Serina limped everywhere she went, the Sludge Guardian took it upon herself to stay with those unable to leave, enlisting the aid of Wind Dragons to keep the smoky air pure enough to breathe.
Nearby Rodimus continued his slugfest with Galvatron, doing his best to draw attention away from the dragons and keep both the Decepticon leader and his silent communications officer moving. By the time Rodimus had reached them, Galvatron had already returned to his robot form, unleashing a volley of cannon fire towards the smaller red mech. He stayed as close as he could to Galvatron, making blasters difficult to use and forcing the Decepticon leader to engage in hand-to-hand combat.
Rodimus made sure to keep Galvatron between himself and Soundwave at all times so the cold, methodical Decepticon would have a difficult time firing off an accurate shot against him. The Autobot leader ducked once to avoid a haywire blast from Cyclonus, who seemed to look extremely angry based on the way his battered side appeared. Did Cyl do that? There was no way she had the strength to cause that much damage.
When Starscream and the Sweeps approached, Rodimus resigned himself to the fact that he was now fighting on borrowed time, waiting for the next blow, but the rage in Starscream's voice was not directed at him at all, but to Galvatron. The Seeker's canopy had been shattered yesterday by Cylinder, but similar to Cyclonus' wound, a fresh dent ripped up the metal surrounding the broken glass, rendering the cockpit a mangled heap of what it once was. The Sweeps, and another black and purple Decepticon bore similar injures. Without saying a word, Galvatron shot Rodimus in the shoulder and left the platform they had been battling on, probably to recuperate. Wincing at his damaged shoulder, the red Autobot swore he heard them arguing about a tiny gray dragon. He tried to deny who he thought it could have been, praying she was okay.
Sliding down the face of the mountain, he approached Serina, noticing her struggle to remain standing through her exhaustion. It had been a few hours since the fire started, even though for Rodimus it felt like minutes.
"Have you seen Silver?" he asked her, hoping for a good answer.
Serina shook her head, looking to both sides as if to make a point, "I thought she was with Cylinder."
Rodimus' worried face lowered a little at the mention of the femme's name, "I doubt it," he muttered.
Serina seemed to understand what the Autobot leader was implying, but before she could offer some form of comfort, someone behind her called out her name. A gray dragoness, color similar to Silver's scales, approached the Sludge Guardian and Rodimus. She was also wearing a guardian's cloak (one of the few still wearing theirs), but this one was longer, off-white accented with a gray trim. Soot and ash marked it in numerous places, and a spot near the tail was torn, but the Wind Elemental Seal on her shoulder was unmistakable to Serina.
"What's wrong, Aeros?" Serina asked, detecting the alarm in the older dragoness' voice.
Without missing a beat, Aeros replied in a wispy voice, "Something's happening in the Western Woods."
"Is it on fire?"
"No. The fire's not even touching it."
Rodimus turned his head in that direction and activated his long-distance vision. The height advantage from the plateau they stood on allowed him to see clearly over the wall. The forest in question was surrounded by flames, yet while embers tried to take hold of the thick green foliage, it never did, like something was redirecting the fire altogether. It was then he noticed a wall of water holding the flames at bay, pushing them back against the stone walls of the city. At the front of the charge stood Aesir, using his own element to will the fire away, but behind him stood a jumbled group of creatures commanded by a green, wingless dragon.
"What are those things?" Serina asked, seeing the creatures as well.
"I'll be damned," Rodimus muttered. "Aesir found the basilisks."
Before he could elaborate, an exhausted Silver landed rather ungracefully nearby, wheezing and trembling but holding herself up in case she needed to strike again.
"I saw them and Aesir arguing," the dragoness coughed, though this time no blood came up with it. "Told them we needed their help, and convinced the guardians that these guys were a good crowd. They saw the smoke and assumed we needed their help."
"And they can suppress flames?" Serina asked, bewildered from heat exhaustion.
"They control the natural environment, so I'd assume so," replied Silver.
The sound of jet engines gained everyone's attention in time for Rodimus to order everyone to scatter. A foot, he was not sure who's, collided with his face and sent him flying off the plateau and into a collection of burning buildings. As they collapsed, debris fell on him, trapping his leg. Assessing his situation, Rodimus groaned in frustration when he realized his leg was wedged under heavy pieces of wall and wooden beams. The flames inched closer, causing the Autobot leader to shift uncomfortably in the stifling heat. The flames would not kill him, but Galvatron certainly would.
The Decepticon leader landed in the center of the cluster of burning buildings, carefully aiming his cannon at Rodimus' head, knowing the mech was trapped and unable to move. Rodimus readied his own arm-mounted blasters, powering them up despite his body's warnings that he was dangerously low on energon.
Before either mech could fire their weapon, in a great gust of wind, the flames surrounding the buildings extinguished, leaving only smoking wood in their wake. The suppression of the fire did not stop there, but extended a good two-mile radius throughout the city. Lowering their weapons, Rodimus and Galvatron both looked in the direction the heavy gusts of wind seemed to be coming from. Both fell silent at the sight before them.
The rest of Syandemel did, too.
Gripped in a frightened sense of awe, not a single being dared to speak next, watching feebly as the creature of their nightmares walked free in their city, positioned in a place where even the evacuees could see him clearly.
Marchosias stood before his audience on the crushed remains of the entrance gate to Syandemel. The dark gray basilisk proudly admired his work with a slight smile. It had been so long since he let loose, appreciating the chance to use his abilities once again. He looked around at the thousands of eyes on him, carefully observing the mixture of reactions – fear, anger, disgust, and confusion, to name a few. His gray eyes glowed in the orange glimmer from the remaining fires nearby and the embers that continued to rain down on top of him from the cloudy, charcoal-colored sky.
As he looked on silently, Cylinder also returned, setting down near the Grand Temple. Her spark ached and her processor hurt from a volley of different emotions, but on the outside her face remained expressionless. She was able to find Silver not too far away with Serina and some other guardian and approached them cautiously, clutching her side now that the pain there had finally begun to register. When she got closer, she noticed the apprehension in Silver's face, body completely still with eyes widened in terror.
The Autobot femme had no idea what to say. The expression on Silver's face, one of reliving traumatic memories and a genuine sense of fear, made her spark sink. Primus … what in the world did she just do? Only a few hours ago she vowed to ignore the dream about Marchosias because of Silver's story, and yet, here she was. The Voice only laughed at the slight pangs of regret, pushing them aside in Cylinder's already morally conflicted mind.
Murmurs began to spread throughout the various groups of dragons. "Is that Marchosias? – How did he get here? – Did those basilisk freaks let him out? – I knew they wanted nothing but trouble."
The basilisks amongst the crowds began to shrink away from the dragons, some shifting into their dragon forms to appear innocent. The only basilisk who stood still was Roenel. The green, wingless creature appearing as a dragon had no doubt caught Marchosias' eyes. Instead of shock or fear, the older basilisk only felt pain and sadness, like he was seeing the ghost of an old and beloved friend.
Cylinder tried to place a hand on Silver's shoulder only for the gray dragoness to jump in terror. Her eyes read a message loud and clear, but the femme was afraid to answer it: Where have you been?
After being satisfied with the silence, Marchosias moved from his perch and climbed up to a tower in the center of the city, careful to make sure no one was dumb enough to strike. "I expected a slightly warner welcome. You all act like you've never seen me before," his voice boomed, carried by his ability to control the air and make himself sound louder than he actually was. Every dragon and Cybertronian could hear the basilisk loud and clear, as if he were standing right next to each individual.
It was Galvatron's turn to speak, brandishing his cannon like it was a trophy, now completely ignoring Rodimus, who at this point had managed to break free of the debris. The Decepticon leader was beyond angry at the creature stealing his moment of power. "This is the so-called Commander of Darkness?" he growled, "I'm not impressed at all. Barricade," the Decepticon leader motioned to his scout to ready his gun.
Marchosias stared into Barricade's optics before throwing an oddly familiar blue stone in the Decepticon's direction. No one had noticed it in his paw before. Where did he even find it? The energon only cracked when it hit the Decepticon scout, but it was enough to produce the smoke that changed his circuitry into organs.
"It's interesting," Marchosias mused as he watched Barricade change shape back into a dragon. Aesir's eyes widened in guilt when he realized that this creature was the dragon Cylinder had attacked yesterday. "This stone changes your very genetic makeup and rearranges even the smallest particles to re-format your bodies. Ironic that we could not be more different species, and yet, this stone proves we are just the same."
Barricade once again stood as a dragon, but brushed off the words, growling, "We will never be the same you organic, reptilian freak!" Though smaller that Marchosias, the Decepticon scout charged at full speed, producing a black, fiery substance from his mouth. Marchosias laughed at the weak attempt to create the Shadow Element, and retaliated by raising his claws before the Decepticon ever got close to him.
Barricade immediately stopped, frozen in place as his body visibly stiffened. Overcome with the sensation of being compressed, he slowly realized his chest was pulsing slower than he had ever felt before. Any dragon could have warned the Decepticon to stay away, to not challenge Marchosias' one most deadly ability, but as far as they were concerned, watching the Decepticon's chest visibly contract and seeing him violently cough up blood was the one good thing they could celebrate today. One less Decepticon was fine, but what amazed everyone was that even a transformer was subject to Marchosias' heart-crushing ability. Roe looked away in grief.
In a great finale, Marchosias closed his fist, watching as Barricade collapsed to the ground, lifeless reptilian body leaking all manners of organic fluid. Both the Autobots and Decepticons were mortified.
Gracefully placing his paw down, Marchosias spoke to address the metal beings that stood nearby, undeterred by the horrified murmurs around him. "Let this be a lesson to all of you. No one, not even you robots are safe if you so much as try to challenge me."
Angry at the loss of a soldier, Cyclonus used his one good arm to raise his gun, but Galvatron waived him off, suddenly interested in what Marchosias had to say.
"Let's see what he does," the Decepticon leader whispered, tone completely changed from only a few seconds ago, indicating his curiosity despite just losing one of his soldiers. Just as Starscream had said, all the scout was, though valuable, was fodder. Galvatron took the opportunity to see how other bots reacted, noticing how Cylinder's mouth was pressed into a firm line, optics reflecting more guilt than fear. Interesting.
Marchosias scanned his terrified audience once again, deliberately overlooking the basilisks. They had betrayed him, and he was no doubt furious at them, but he decided to leave them for later. Instead, his gray eyes fell on a young, gray dragoness. The glow of smoldering buildings reflected in her terrified blue eyes as she stared back at him. By now, Aesir had joined the group on the plateau and ordered Silver the stay behind him, but how could she? She had never seen the creature that kept her captive in person before. This morbid curiosity, despite all that had happened in the past, got the better of her. Her scars carefully hidden under her collar ached in protest, but she ignored them, continuing to watch the basilisk's every move.
The Commander of Darkness smiled, instantly recognizing the older form of the hatchling that contributed so much to his growing power while imprisoned. Before he could do anything, a shot rang out, nearly missing the basilisk's head. Irritated, Marchosias turned to see a regretful Sweep backing away.
That was when the chaos broke out.
Marchosias surrounded himself in a black, smoky cloud, the Darkness Element taking on its true form, just like in Cylinder's dream. Everyone ducked when it was released, sending a dusty shockwave at anything that stood at the basilisk's height. Cylinder ducked out of the way and slid down the mountainside, running directly for Rodimus as volleys of haywire elemental attacks from furious Syandemel residents, guardians, and basilisks rained down.
Rodimus saw her first, unable to articulate his joy that the femme was still moving. Before he could say anything, Cylinder stopped him.
"There's something I have to tell you," she spoke gravely.
Rodimus did not like that tone at all. "Cyl," he muttered, "It can wait."
"It can't."
Rodimus tried to respond but became distracted by the brief shadow that overtook both of them. Turning to follow the source, both Autobots watched in terror as Marchosias left his perch, spreading his massive wings to take flight. Both could see his intended target, panicking as they tried to scramble up the hill in time.
Aesir lowered himself into a fighting stance, wings spread and ready to engage, but the dragoness he was protecting knew he did not stand a chance. Another gust of wind shoved Aesir back, leaving Silver wide open, but before Marchosias could slash the frozen dragoness' throat with his tail blade, he was knocked aside by a large, red metal body. Moving quickly, Cylinder scooped up Silver in her arms and carried the dragoness to the roof of a building before drawing her swords on the basilisk.
Knocking Rodimus aside, Marchosias let a small, ironic smile pass his lips as he stared back at the femme. He could not tell what she was thinking under that blank metal face, but he could imagine a lot.
"Cyl," Silver muttered, "He wants me. Don't let yourself get killed for my sake."
Cylinder ignored the request, but that did not stop Silver from raising her paw again, practically begging for a meteor to give her any sort of edge against her opponent. Judging by how Marchosias suddenly stood still, it was safe to say he was well aware of what she was doing. But when nothing came to harm him, he laughed at the pathetic display, using his strength to throw Cylinder down with her leader.
He only got that far though when a meteor, much larger than the ones Silver could ever conjure, came barreling from the sky, aiming straight for the gray basilisk. Marchosias quickly ducked out of the way, only to be grabbed and pinned down by two large, dark blue dragons. He knew from the start it would only be a matter of time until this happened. To bad he did not have more time. The meteor collided with a large building, and when the dust from its collapse settled, his face was forcibly turned upwards to look into the eyes of a large dragon darker than the night sky itself.
If Silver had not been cowering before, she was now, slowly backing away from the dragon of an almost regal appearance. His royal blue body stood firmly on the roof the building for all to see, dark eyes gazing into the basilisk's gray ones. His nearly black wings were specked with white dots, resembling a starry sky. Several black horns protruded from his body, like a crown signifying a king. And by the way other dragons reacted with reverent bows and the presence of a long Guardian's cloak draped over his shoulders, he probably was.
Without a word, the dragon who appeared out of nowhere gave a signal to the two blue dragons holding Marchosias down. Silently, they scattered dust around the struggling basilisk, and with a snap of one's claws the dust ignited into a golden flame, yet nothing on the ground but the dust burned. The dragons let go of Marchosias and backed away. Though he sat up, he stayed where he was, eyes glowing with hatred.
"I've seen enough suffering today," the dragon spoke, not caring to let his voice echo like Marchosias'. His eyes shifted to Aesir. The Fire Guardian lowered his head out of respect, though Cylinder suspected it was also carried with an unspoken apology. While the other dragons bowed to this dragon, Silver continued to cower behind him. The way he stared at his audience made them feel as though he were staring through them, beyond them, into their very beings. He paid special attention to the Cybertronians who watched with utter confusion. They responded by shifting uncomfortably, except Galvatron, who continued to stare in awe between the dragon and the supposedly detained Marchosias.
Silver finally gathered her bearings and attempted to approach the much larger dragon, but he held his paw up, and she backed away once more.
Galvatron finally broke the tense silence, irritated at so many newcomers thwarting all his plans, "Would you mind telling me just who the hell you are?"
Dark blue eyes met blood red optics with a cold, unfeeling stare, "My name is Coldfang, Galactic Guardian and ruler of the Dragon Realms." A short response was all that was needed to set Galvatron into a rage once more, optics glowing in irritation.
"Silver's father," Cylinder muttered quietly to Rodimus, not believing what she was seeing.
"Alright, Coldfang," Galvatron snarled purposely so his subordinates could hear him, "Please tell me: what gives you, an insignificant, otherworldly figurehead, the right to interfere with everything going on here?"
The dragons stared in shock at the Decepticon leader's disrespectful tone, almost praying for another meteor to shoot out of the sky.
As Coldfang prepared a response, the Decepticon leader fired a shot from his cannon, but before the Galactic Guardian could even back away, a large, metal frame stepped in front of him, taking the shot directly to her back.
The electric pulse that followed would have surely killed Coldfang if the blast did not, but Cylinder reacted fast enough, letting the shot further damage her wings and once again shock her circuits instead. Transforming, much less flying, was no longer an option. But even with her sacrifice, when Cylinder took the opportunity to look directly into Coldfang's eyes, she only saw hatred. Those blue eyes seemed to harbor pure disgust at the femme, as if he knew what she had done. Optics flickering, the blast was enough to put Cylinder offline, and the femme collapsed to the ground, back smoking from the shot, wondering why this dragon hated her.
"Cyl," Silver muttered in terror, not noticing her father's confusion when the gray dragoness limped over to the femme's body.
Enraged, Galvatron, along with his subordinates, fired more shots, and in the ensuing chaos, a red Seeker landed before Marchosias, smacking the guards out of his way.
"Want to live?" he asked, red eyes glowing in disgust at the thought of working with an organic.
"Yes?" Marchosias murmured suspiciously, unsure of what the Decepticon meant.
"Good," Starscream continued, "Because Galvatron sees the strategic value in you. And as long as you remain useful to us, we wont kill you the way you killed one of our soldiers. And, if you cooperate, we can give you what you want in return."
Marchosias considered this for a moment. He did not trust the Decepticons, or the Autobots for that matter, at all. Nothing good for his home could come from them, and yet, if he refused, he would either be imprisoned again for good, or executed. Nodding, he spoke, "Fine. But you can't release me from these flames. They serve as an elemental shield and if I'm forcibly removed, I will be severely injured and lose my abilities for a while."
"Oh really?" Starscream's voice was low, a slight smirk appearing on his face, before thrusting his large hand through the flames and ripping Marchosias from them. The basilisk roared in pain as the Seeker took off into the clearing sky, the smoke dissipating now that the majority of the fire was out.
Rodimus tried to chase after the Seeker, but knew there was nothing he could do. Instead, he could at least revel in the fact that he had survived the Decepticon onslaught and the majority of the city was still standing despite being ravaged by flames. The same could not be said for Cylinder, who's battered body still lay smoking on the ground.
It had been raining all day. After the basilisks suppressed the rest of the flames in the city, and the water dragons flooded the burned sectors to clear debris into the valley, and the earth dragons leveled collapsing buildings to make way for new ones, and everyone else who was able helped pull survivors and cadavers alike from the rubble, the Guardians were finally able to re-establish some level of order, finding temporary homes for those that had lost them and doing what they could to heal their devastated city. Thanks to the basilisks, the sky was overcast and cold, allowing rain to fall so as to clear the burning smell from all of Syandemel. No one trusted the basilisks, but still thanked them for their help.
Though it was just past midday, everyone could tell that beyond the clouds the sky had grown darker, as if a shadow had fallen over the world. And why not? Marchosias was free, the Decepticons remained at large, and half their city was in ashes.
Sure, the city was left standing despite the blaze, and not everyone was killed over the last few days of slaughter, but for what? A war the Dragon Realms had nothing to do with caused all of this, and it did not matter how many times Rodimus tried to apologize, the dragons refused to hear it. Not like they had a choice on whether the Autobots were permitted to stay here, though – with the Decepticons still here, hiding somewhere in the world, they knew they could not survive without the Autobots. The only thing they could do now was warn other tribes and prepare to fight.
Rodimus used his limited medical knowledge to at least get Cylinder back online, but there was nothing Silver's healing powers could do to fix her or re-energize the Autobots' weary metal bodies. Using their size to their advantage, both Autobots helped by slowly sifting through the rubble, helping lift beams and walls if someone found a trapped survivor.
As Rodimus was moving stones aside for the Earth Dragons, Cylinder approached him, fixing a frayed wire in her shoulder that dislodged itself from Starscream's null ray attack. "Rodimus," she muttered, weaker than she had ever been before, "There really is something I need to tell you."
The Autobot leader grumbled, "Can it wait?"
"It's about Marchosias."
Rodimus looked up and immediately looked at a dull, burned diamond in Cylinder's hand. It took a moment to register what exactly it was, but the fear and guilt strewn across the femme's face gave him his answer. At first, he refused to accept it. Never would he imagine her stooping so low. But the expression on her face told him whatever she did, it was something beyond horrible.
"Cyl –"
I did it.
The words spoke loud and clear over his processor. He was silent, optics wide in denial. The air around them was completely still.
Cylinder continued, "I … I don't know why … I just …" she lowered her head, her one working optic switching off for a moment, "The opportunity was there. I thought it was me – I was aware – At least, I think I was –" she grabbed her helm in frustration, emitting a sound of anger that caused a few dragons to momentarily look up. "I can't process it. Not anymore. The thought's gone."
Rodimus continued to stare at her, letting the words brush by him in a wave of confusion, "You let him out?" he whispered so as not to arouse suspicion, "After everything we heard about him, you thought he'd be willing to help us?"
It was Cylinder's turn to stay quiet. Trying to argue that it did would not save her justification for it.
Rodimus groaned in disgust before returning to his work. What was he going to do about it? He needed Cylinder to fight.
"Please don't tell Silver," she muttered desperately, avoiding her leader's gaze when he turned back around.
That was it? No apology? He was beginning to wonder if she actually regretted doing what she did.
Sighing, Rodimus decided to change the subject, pushing the information out of his mind. "We need help. We have to find a way to reach out to Cybertron. If we keep going like this we'll both go offline soon." At this point, without any energon, Rodimus was just barely able to move normally, and with Cylinder unable to transform, there was nothing they would be able to do if another attack came.
"How are we going to contact them?" Cylinder asked, relieved with the subject change.
Rodimus thought for a minute before turning his head upwards. Even in the rain, a small patch of clouds had cleared, revealing the sky beyond. Truthfully, he had no idea what to do, but one could at least hope. He never replied, optics fixed on the darkening sky.
