Rian Moeru: Yeah! Finally got a new chapter done! I'm so excited for the next one to get out too. We've pretty much have the rest of the fic and it's ending planned out too! It'll still be awhile for you guys, but I think Misgel and I are nearly done. Not only that but we have so many thoughts and ideas in ours heads~
Misgel: So many ideas, so little time~ Lots of different perspectives in this update, but the next few chapters are going to be filled with action-packed drama! Hope you guys enjoyed!
Smokescreen groaned, wires and gears straining as he pulled his treasure across the ground. He had to dig his heel into the solid stone with each step, yet it offered little leverage. The Forge of the Solus Prime was heavy.
Ancient texts certainly didn't describe it as weighing this much. The Elite Guard recruit wrapped both his servos around the hilt of the sacred weapon, dragging its broad head across the ground. It filled the silent tunnels with a horrible scraping sound, echoing in his audios. Smokescreen wondered if it blasphemy to drag a holy relic of the Primes across the filthy ground, the soil ruining its golden shine, but he had no choice. Every time he attempted to lift the hefty thing, his chassis would groan with protest and he dropped it before he could be crushed by its weight. His frame had been built with speed and agility, the perfect mold of an Elite Guard, not a heavy frame to deal with great loads.
"Ugh..." Smokescreen groaned, giving the Forge another sharp tug to pull it along faster. "Could really use Bulkheads help right about now..."
Yet Smokescreen didn't even know where the Wrecker was, or if he was even still alive. Or the rest of the team. Had they even received his distress signal? Or had it been folly, and the only thing he achieved was exposing himself to the Decepticons?
The Autobot cringed at that, knowing the enemy had to be looking for him now. He could only hope they wouldn't think to look beneath their very pedes, in the tunnels that stretched below the base. Or whatever remained of it.
Smokescreen knew he should have obeyed Optimus's orders to evacuate the base. To help the others stage a counterattack. But... he couldn't. He had sworn an oath of an Elite Guard to protect his Prime and the High Council, to guard the sacred halls of Iacon from the enemy. He had failed, when the Decepticons raided the Hall of Records, and he hadn't even been given the chance to fight. He still didn't understand, why Alpha Trion had knocked him out, why the old mech had chosen him to carry a key to the restoration of Cybertron. He still didn't know when he had been stolen from the ancient being's hold and the Decepticons had him in their clutches. But he did know he couldn't let it happen again.
When it was his turn to retreat through the groundbridge, Smokescreen had used the phase shifter to slip into the bowels of the base, allowing him to avoid detection. And the blast, when the Decpeticon warship leveled the entire facility, with Optimus still inside. The recruit still remembered, spending joors and joors scouring through the wreckage, trying to avoid the Decepticon patrols at the same time.
He had barely managed to differentiate the Autobot leader's mangled frame from the piles of scrap, and drag his huge frame into the safety of the tunnels. He still remembered the look in Optimus's optics. It was a look Smokescreen thought he would never see in his Prime.
Defeat.
A look that was almost as haunting as the Primes current state. There was no other word for it—Optimus Prime had been defeated. And now he was slowly ebbing away.
That's why he had to take the Forge, as risky as it was. It was the Guardian Knight's only chance. It could build anything, so... it could rebuild a frame, right?
Activating the phase shifter, Smokescreen phased through a solid wall effortlessly. Once he was greeted with the faint light filtering through the ceiling, he dropped the Forge with an exhausted groan. He cringed at it fell to the ground with a hefty clang that would make Solus Prime roll in her tomb.
"Optimus! I have the Forge!" he announced, excitingly, desperately. He turned to face his leader, and like every time, his spark clenched when he took in the sight of the fallen Prime.
Optimus laid across the ground, limb and frighteningly still. The once bright blue and red colored armor was charred to nearly black. Scratches littered his frame, some so deep it cut straight through the armor. His glass windshields were shattered. Ragged, stuttering vents escaped his frame, a sickening, hollow noise. His once bright optics were horribly dim, sometimes so dark Smokescreen could not tell if they were online. Sometimes they flickered off into stasis—sometimes during mid-sentence—and the young rookie would fear the worst.
Optimus's response was slow, frighteningly so. His optics swivels in his direction, a horrible gash under one. Smokescreen kept a brave face in spite of how he felt.
"Smmoke… screeen… yoozz…"
His voice broke off in static, and Smokescreen gently hushed him.
"T-try not to talk too much, Optimus. You need to save your strength," the young Autobot insisted, placing a comforting servo on his leader's chest. He pulled a cube of energon from his subspace, stolen from the Decepticon stockhold. "Here. You need to refuel."
Even as he said the words, he dismissed another low fuel message. Both of the Autobots were deficient. Optimus had lost a lot of energon from his injuries—too much, and Smokescreen had used too much trying to search for more. He only had the few cubes he had saved from before the invasion, and they did not last long. He had dared to return to the surface, scouring the leveled base for a drop of energon only to find just that—a drop.
Slowly, carefully, like the brittle Prime would fall apart under his touch, the young Autobot cupped his servo underneath his leader's helm. He just as gently lifted it, just enough for Optimus's lips to reach the cube. Like every time when Smokescreen tried to share his meager rations, a shaking, black servo rose before falling limp. The Guardian Knight groaned and let out a broke huff of protest, voice filled with static.
"Yooz… needzz…"
"Shh, you need this much as me, if not more." Optimus stubbornly tried to turn his helm away, but Smokescreen had learned to anticipate his self-sacrificing leader and held him steady. "Just a little. Please?"
The Prime groaned again, but eventually relented and allowed Smokescreen to pour the precious fuel into his mouth. The former Elite Guard suspected it was more out exhaustion than compliance with Smokescreen's plea. His gaze turned to the relic now laying against the caverns walls.
"With the Forge, you can use it to repair yourself!" the Autobot went on hopefully.
"Th-that... izz not... the r-reazon... I had yooo... retrievv... the rrrelic..."
"What? I don't understand..."
"You muzzzt... rezztoooree... Omega Lockkkee..." Optimus's voice started to become hoarser, his optics flickering.
Smokescreen blinked, horribly confused. "But... you destroyed the Omega Lock! To keep from the Decepticons cyberforming Earth, conquering the universe—"
"A mizztake…"
For a full moment, the young Autobot thought he had heard his leader wrong, that he misinterpreted the sounds of the damaged vocalizer. He had to. Optimus always made the right call, he was always so collected, so sure...
To hear the Prime admit he had made the wrong decision...
"Cybertrron… rremainzz… dead. Mmegatrron… will continuue… to rrravage… Earrth. The ch-childrren… have lozzt… theirr humaanityy."
"That's… that's not your fault, Optimus. You did everything you could!" Smokescreen tried to reassure him, but the Prime denied it.
"Nnooo… I faileddd… to prrotect-t... the children. I failed to-to... protect Earth. I failed... Cybertron."
Optimus's last word came out as a desperate gasp, slumping in Smokescreen's hold. His optics darkened, and the recruit feared he had gone into stasis again. Merely talking seemed to drain the once mighty leader, and this was the most the Prime had said in weeks.
However, the Guardian Knight spoke, "The powerrr of the Forrrge… iz not... unlimited-d. Whatevverr powerrr remainzz… muzt be uzed… to rrrebuild the Omega Locckkeee…"
Smokescreen's optics widened, realizing what Optimus was insinuating. "But that would mean..."
"That fffate… of all our kiinnnd… iz moorrre vvital… than that of... any ooone of uz. Incluuding meee..."
Smokescreen only stared, not knowing if he heard the Prime right. Unable to process the words. Optimus couldn't possibly— No, he couldn't.
"But the Forge is a relic of the Primes! We can't use it restore Cybertron, not without a Prime—not without you," the recruit explained, pulling the broken chassis closer, as if he let go, the Guardian Knight would crumble into dust. "Optimus, without you, the Autobots are done for!"
The Autobot leader gave no indication that he heard, his optics dull and nearly black, vents still struggling to cycle air. Even though, he forced himself to speak, each word slow and hesitant, as if each one was painful to say.
"Therrre… willll… beee… a... nnnew… Priimmeee…"
Smokescreen fell silent, his mouth agape as he stared at his leader. No, no he couldn't be serious. Optimus wasn't going to just up and die like this!
"You can't just give up now!" Smokescreen insisted, tightening his grip around the Prime's shoulders. He didn't know if the following grunt was from exhaustion or pain. "Not when we're so close! I called the others, they'll be here soon! Maybe Ratchet can fix you up!"
The young Autobot spoke rapidly, a nervous habit he had yet to overcome. He had to divert the conversation, distract himself, from Optimus's words. He still clung to that flicker of hope-because if he didn't, then what would he have?
Suddenly he was jolted from his thoughts as a servo wrapped around his arm. It was weak, frail, but the Prime managed a firm squeeze, almost in reassurance.
"The timmme… forr a n-new... leaderrr… iz among-g uz."
"There is no one else, Optimus! Just you! We need you!"
Smokescreen's voice cracked, pleading, begging. Something an Elite Guard should never do, but he didn't bring himself to care.
"Smokescreen..." The name sounded hurtful to say, but Optimus fought through the static to say it clearly, strongly, and the young rookie found himself instinctively straightening to attention. "The choize… iz neither yourzz nor minne… to make. When it iz… timme… the Matrix of L-Leadership... will prezent itzelf.. only to one... whoze zpark… is woorthyyy."
Then Optimus eyes began to fade, until they were entirely black. His venting slowed even further, until they stopped altogether.
"Optimus!" Smokescreen called out, tightening his hold on the mech. "Optimus!"
The grating sound of transformation filled the air. Smokescreen's optics went wide with horror, a chill crawling down his spinal strut, as Optimus's chest plates parted.
The gloomy cave was illuminated by a holy, cerulean light, cool and calm, warm and welcoming. There was a deep hum, buzzing in the recruit's audios. A powerful energy filled Smokescreen's EM field. Instead of being rejuvenated, the young 'Bot could only stare at what lay before him.
The Matrix of Leadership.
The relic he had only heard of in stories, in ancient texts, in legends, was right next to his servo. It was relatively simple in design—a small, perfect sphere with two bars extending from it to attach to the seams of a spark chamber. Within the sphere was a pure white crystal—the fragment of Primus's soul.
Part of Smokescreen was in awe. The other part was in horror. His leader... his Prime... he was—
No.
Smokescreen scrambled away from the Matrix as fast as he could, barely making it to his pedes. His spark pulsed rapidly, reacting to the power of Primus. He could feel the pull of the Matrix, inviting, approving. The Autobot only stepped further away.
"This isn't how the story is supposed to end..." Smokescreen murmured, looking at the lifeless husk of Optimus Prime.
Only he could be a Prime, a Guardian Knight of Primus.
Only he could be the leader of Autobots.
There wasn't anyone else—none of them could hold a candle to Optimus. Certainly not him.
Smokescreen turned, settling his gaze on the Forge of Solus Prime. The weapon that could create anything from any raw material, as long as it was in the hands of a Prime. The power to bring life into any object.
And... he had a Prime here. Even if he were offline... Megatron had managed to use the arm of a dead Prime, hadn't he? It was a long shot, and just the idea sounded absurd. But he had to try. The Autobots, the Earth, the universe depended on it.
Before he could lose his courage, Smokescreen wrapped his servos around the Forge's hilt. He used the last of his energy to drag the massive thing to the Guardian Knight's chassis. Slowly, gently, he lowered the mighty weapon into his leader's palm.
"Come on, Optimus," Smokescreen whispered, knowing he was talking to himself now. He grabbed hold of the Prime's servo, awkwardly trying to make his fingers bend. "I'm not letting you quit now. Because we need you." The young Autobot forced the digits to wrap around the handle, keeping them there. "We... I can't do this without you."
The Forge of Solus Prime began to glow.
"Then you and Bulkhead get Miko out of here. Bumblebee and I will secure the fusion cannons' power core."
"Autobots. So predictable," Shockwave huffed.
Miko's tanks rolled and her spark fluttered. The Autobots were here. Bulkhead was here. They had come to rescue her. But little did they know, their every move was being monitored. She watched from her slaver's shadow as the interlopers easily destroyed the Seekers sent to intercept them. And the following conversation as Soundwave continued the live surveillance feed.
"What about Optimus?" Bulkhead asked.
"We destroy Darkmount, then we find him," Bumblebee decided. "Even with Megatron busy, there's no way we can get him out of here with so many 'Cons."
"The Autobots are without their leader," Shockwave surmised as he continued to examine the feed. "Now is an opportune time to remove them from the equation." The scientist turned to his slave. "Warpdrive, you are to take position at the fusion core. Prevent the Autobots from seizing it."
"N-no," Miko retorted.
Shockwave's optic glowed bright red.
"You will secure the fusion core, or else face punishment," he said darkly, and Miko already felt her insides tingling at the very real threat.
The femme kept her ground. "You won't make me fight my friends. I don't care what you say or what you do—"
Then raw heat coursed through her frame, burning her fuel lines from the inside out. Miko screamed and fell to her knees. Her vision automatically splintered and her thoughts were severed. She bit her glossa, trying to kept herself from making another sound, only for energon to fill her mouth. But she didn't want to give Shockwave the satisfaction to hear her cries of pain.
Instead, she forced out through gritted denta, "G-G-Get fr-fragged!"
There was a savage growl above her and a blob of a cannon raised into the air. Miko braced for the blunt object to come down on her. Only for thin fingers to grip Shockwave's broad shoulder, stopping him. The scientist quickly jerked out of Soundwave's grip, but he did not swing for Miko again.
"I have been far too lenient with this subject." His voice lowered an octave, optic narrowed in a glare at the femme.
"Punish: later time," Soundwave argued. "Autobots: greater threat."
Miko ex-vented heavily, her frame rattling as the pain steadily ebbed away along with Shockwave's fury. She looked up with blurred vision, seeing the third-in-command looking down at her.
"Subject: too undisciplined. Will not engage Autobots."
"And what do you suggest?" Shockwave retorted.
"Ravage, Lazerbeak: eject."
Miko's optics widened a fraction as Soundwave's chest and dorsal armor dislodged from his frame, making the mech look a little smaller than his already thin frame would suggest.
It was then two, odd little creatures appeared before her. One was a flyer, with broad wings and a sharp beak. That one she recognized as Soundwave's surveillance drone, Laserbeak. The other one looked like a deformed, oversized cat. Ravage?
"Mission: intercept Autobots," their master ordered.
Miko wanted to shout at them to stop, to transform her arm to finish them herself. But she could barely get her vocalizer to work, let along will herself to move. With their own inhuman cries, the symbiotes raced out of the communications hub, off to reek havoc in their master's name. Miko could only tremble underneath that eyeless gaze.
"Subject: oversee fusion canon," Soundwave decided. "Drones: will aid in protecting."
"Very well. I will handle the other two Autobots," Shockwave proclaimed, glaring once more at Miko, who did her best to muster one back.
"Soundwave: monitor Autobot movements."
"Understood," the Decepticon said simply, and Miko was at a loss at what to do. Neither Soundwave nor Shockwave were pleasant options.
She could only watch helplessly as Shockwave left, in the slow, confident pace, as if he didn't have any concern to face his enemy. To destroy her friends. The femme grinded her denta.
"I won't fight my friends! You won't make me!" she forced out, refusing to give in to these heartless monsters.
Soundwave didn't even turn towards her, fingers rapidly flying across keys and data-cables flashing as they attached to the system. Instead, he waved a hand over his shoulder, and suddenly a bright light filled Miko's vision. Her yelp was swallowed up by a louder hum.
"Oof!" she grunted as suddenly she landed on a floor in a heap of tangled limbs.
Flickering her optics, she scanned her surroundings only to see terminals all around her, filling the entire wall. A giant, wicked-looking generator in the center of the room. Lights flashed across it as energon coursed through it, thrumming with power. Miko realized what it was.
The power core. The twisted heart of Darkmount.
She glanced up, only to see the groundbridge snap close. She huffed, realizing the Decepticons had practically tossed her out of the way rather than deal with her.
Rude.
"I think we're almost there, Bulk," Wheeljack said as the pair ran through the halls of Darkmount.
After they separated from their comrades, the Wreckers did not hesitate to tear through the citadel, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. They cut down any Vehicon or Eradicon that dared to stand in their way and blew down any locked door down. Nothing would stop them from reaching Shockwave's lab.
There was nothing that would stop them from saving Miko.
"I can't wait to wreck that waste of metal into scrap!" Bulkhead seethed, clanging his twin maces together as he bared his denta in fury.
"Easy, big guy. We're not out of the scrapheap yet," Wheeljack said with narrow optics, holding his blades out. Ready to slice the next drone in half, or whatever ambush that lay ahead.
The Wrecker didn't even finish his sentence when a loud, high-pitched hum filled the air. He skidded to a halt, only for his vision to be assaulted by bright hues. Followed by dull, dry dirt.
Wheeljack grunted as he fell onto the earth, a heavy thud beside him as Bulkhead landed beside him. His processor swam with disorientation, quickly trying to make sense of the grey, overcast sky far above. And the dark tower of Darmount looming over them.
"Again?! You gotta be kidding me..." the white mech frowned as the groundbridge vanished from existence.
After he wrecked Shockwave, Soundwave was next.
"Decepticon cowards can't fight us face-to-face," Bulkhead growled out, his fists clenching as they had failed to reach their objective. Unless they could get back inside, Arcee and Bumblebee would be on the their own for now.
Groaning, the pair of Wreckers forced themselves to their pedes. Only for the green Humvee to freeze.
"Erm..." the larger Wrecker groaned, hesitantly pointing to the high up on the fortress.
"What?" Wheeljack mumbled, turning around and peering up.
Only to see a broad figure, standing cockily on a tower's spire, single optic glaring down at them. The Wreckers immediately readied their weapons at the sight of Shockwave.
Without another moment's hesitation, the Decepticon leaped off his perch. He bounded from one spire to the next, with surprising agility considering his heavy frame. Then he fell to the Earth in a streak of purple, landing square on his pedes with such momentum that a cloud of debris flew into the air. The very ground around Shockwave was cracked from the brutal impact.
"Your plan of attack was most… illogical," the scientist stated coldly as he strode forward calmly, unafraid of his enemies.
"Oh, yeah?" Wheeljack retorted as he readjusted his hold on his swords. "Let's see how smart you are when I slice that big head of yours in two."
With that, the Wreckers charged forward with ferocious battle cries.
Shockwave easily met Wheeljack's blade with the barrel of his cannon-arm, shoving the Wrecker aside as Bulkhead charged forward at him, spiked mace raised high over his head. The Decepticon easily sidestepped the attack with surprising speed and grace. Caught in his momentum, Bulkhead stumbled forward, giving the scientist the opportunity to land a savage fist to the Wrecker's helm. There was a clang of metal on metal as the Autobot was sent back with a grunt of pain. Shockwave raised his cannon, but before he could train it on Bulkhead, Wheeljack lunged forward.
He latched onto the Decepticon's back, locking his legs around the larger mech's middle. He landed blows to the scientist's helm, all the while trying to use his weight and momentum to send Shockwave to the ground. However, the Decepticon quickly retaliated, reaching behind him and snatching the scruff of Wheeljack's neck. Claws digging into fuel lines, drawing energon, Shockwave pulled him off and over the scientist's helm, throwing him down with destructive force.
Wheeljack skidded several times, bouncing off the ground before striking his swords into the earth to bring his momentum to a jarring halt. Bulkhead had recovered enough to get back to his own feet, now popping off shots of energon as he attempted to close the distance between himself and Shockwave.
"Give us back the girl, Shockwave!" Bulkhead boomed, tossing his mace in the Decepticon's direction.
"The femme is an invaluable tool for my research," the scientist merely replied in a matter-of-factly tone, even as he dodged the Autobot's fury-filled strikes.
The mere words spoken in that dull drawl made the guardian shudder in rage. "What could you possibly want from Miko?"
"She will be the primary subject for my experiment."
"She's not going to your lab rat!" Bulkhead shouted, violently swinging his weapon at Shockwave.
The Decepticon blocked the attack with his cannon, sparks flying from the brutal impact. His body lurched at the force behind the attack, but the mech dug his heels into the dry earth to keep himself grounded in place.
"An illogical assumption. She is my slave," Shockwave corrected, his tone almost condescending. "And so will the rest of the indigenous population, when we seize control over this planet."
"You're going have to do it over my sparkless husk!" Bulkhead bellowed, shoving Shockwave away.
The Decepticon quickly regained his balance, skidding to a halt and straightening to his full height. His voice was devoid of emotion. "So be it."
Bulkhead gritted his denta and scowled hatefully at the Decepticon. He braced to charge again, to shatter that stupid optic into pieces. Only for a deafening hum to fill the air. The Wreckers froze, and for a moment, Bulkhead feared the fusion cannons were firing up. No, not yet! Fowler hadn't even arrived with reinforcements!
The Autobots craned their helms up. However, both widened their optics in confusion and horror. The gigantic barrels of the superweapon were dark and dormant. Rather, the sky was alight with blinding light, hues of green, blue and pure white mixing together to form a—
Oh, no.
Bulkhead watched as a single, sharp point emerged from the groundbridge, which steadily grew larger and larger, accompanied by more and more menacing spikes. Until a gigantic, dark shadow fell over the quarreling mechs due to the colossal shape that almost took up the entire sky.
The Nemesis had arrived.
"Scrap!" Arcee hissed as she viewed the Nemesis from the tower. "Ratchet, we have a problem—"
"I'm aware," the medic replied grimly. "Ultra Magnus has already informed that the Decepticons left the vicinity of Las Vegas. What's your status with the power core?"
Just as he finished his sentence, a bolt of superheated energon struck the wall beside her helm. She immediately flinched back behind the corridor's bulkhead. She eyed the squadron of Vehicons that had filled the hallway between the Autobots and their target.
"Security is tighter than anticipated," she grounded out.
"Understood. Are you anywhere near the fusion cannons' reactor?" Ratchet persisted.
"Just a few 'Cons between us." Another bolt. "A few aggressive 'Cons."
"Can you handle them on your own?"
"Shouldn't be too much of a problem."
She glanced to the other side of the hallway to see Bumblebee peppering their enemies with his own cannon from his cover. Arcee lowered her hand from her comm to fire her own shots, dropping the call.
She wheeled back around, providing covering fire for her comrade. The Vehicons ducked back behind their own cover, out of Bumblebee's field of range. Taking a risk, the scout sprinted across the width of the hallway, sending a volley of energon. His gamble was successful, taking down several drones. Taking advantage of the decreased numbers, Arcee stepped out, taking out the remaining few.
The high-pitched whirrs of energon was replaced with silence. The two-wheeler ex-vented heavily, but didn't hesitate to charge down the corridor, Bumblebee hot on her heels. Even as she raced for the generator, she eyed her surroundings, looking for a familiar figure.
Megatron had left behind more security than she expected, meaning there was something still valuable in Darkmount. However, she had not seen a trace of any Autobot. Not Optimus or Smokescreen. Not Miko. Not Jack.
Where was he? Where was Megatron keeping him?
It was her duty to protect the boy. She promised Optimus, June, and herself that she would keep him safe. That he would never be hurt by war again.
She broke her promise. Jack was a prisoner, all because of her failure. Arcee would find him. She would save him, and protect him. And she would end the tyranny of Megatron. Even if it cost her very spark to do so. She would avenge everyone that had ever been hurt by this pit-forsaken war, all those that had died from it.
Like Tailgate and Cliffjumper.
She charged forward on rapid pedes. It was just around the corner. They were almost there—
Only for a metallic, high-pitched scream to assault her audios. Both she and Bumblebee skidded to a halt, just as a streak of blue appeared before them, plating bristling and tail raised high. Arcee widened her optics.
"Ravage," she hissed underneath her breath, ejecting her arm-blades.
Apparently Ravage remembered her, too, because the mech-animal let out a savage hiss of his own. He wasn't a large Cybertronian, his height the half of hers, but she knew his length from tail to snout matched it. He made up for his small size for unnatural deadly speed and precision.
"Bring it on, cat," she challenged, before charging forward to slice at the creature with deadly precision.
Only to be greeted with a whirlwind of fangs and claws, another deafening caterwaul assaulting her senses.
"Agh!" the femme screamed as the beast tore at her plating, before swiftly shoving him away with a sharp kick of her leg.
Ravage flipped mid-air, landing on his paws. Before he even fully settled, he lunged again, this time at Bumblebee. The scout whirred in pain as claws scratched at his faceplates. He instinctively reached up to pry the Decepticon off, only for the beast to scamper over his shoulders and leap back onto the floor.
Then blaster fire shot at them from the air. The pair glanced up, seeing Laserbeak joining the fray. Arcee scowled, shifting her arms into her twin blasters. This was going to be an irritating battle.