Oh man. I'm really tired; the Easter holidays sucked up all of my writing time! :O

Oh well; thanks again to Megan666 and Answerthecall for your recent reviews! Although I've seem to have used up all my 'Bold' typeface for a profanity further down...


"Fourteen-point-oh-zero-seven…"

"Nine-eighteen-four-zero-three…"

"Seventy-one-twelve-point-one-two…"

Everything is mine.

"And now Czechoslovakia, Ukraine, Denmark and other European countries are adding to the aid support…"

"Never before in history has slaughter on this scale been recorded…"

"Millions dead…"

Knowledge is power.

"AND SO I SAY NO MORE! THE AUTOBOTS MUST BE SENT FROM EARTH! TOO MANY DEATHS HAVE BEEN CAUSED BY THE DECEPTICONS!"

"But if the Autobots go, who will beat the Decepticons next time?"

"If the Autobots go, there may not be a next time."

The world is my board…

"If this happens again, martial law may be the only appropriate response…"

And yet not one word on Harbinger. One agent in nearly a year… and he had nothing.

A spiny, sly creature entangled itself from the satellite and rested on Soundwave's shoulder.

"Master?" Laserbeak asked, "Is there something troubling you?"

"We are standing on the edge," Soundwave replied, "Of a precipice. A great battle is coming, that will shame Bludgeon's petulant act and spell our end."

"You are sure of this?"

"No. But I am sure Harbinger will initiate it."

"Still nothing on this… thing?"

"You have done little to help," Soundwave muttered icily, "Problems in Audi Sarabia are turning up. Your new puppet is nearly as bad as the old one, executions in the streets, a remilitarised army…"

"What's the problem with that?"

"It does not help us get one step closer to the mastermind behind all of this."

Laserbeak nervously ruffled his wings. Soundwave did not fail to notice it and narrowed his optics.

"You doubt what I say?"

"No, master. Just… why does this Harbinger matter? It has not interfered with our plans before… why would it now?"

Soundwave frowned.

"I thought I had taught you better than this, Laserbeak," Soundwave muttered, "Whatever Harbinger has planned, it has kept those plans impossibly quiet. If those plans are unknown, then they can be dangerous; we cannot risk anything. We need to know everything we can about Harbinger."

Laserbeak grunted. "It's not as if it can reach you out here…"

"If I can reach to the planet below, those on the planet can reach to me above."

"I doubt that," Laserbeak snorted dismissively, "You're the most powerful Decepticon of them all; you know everything."

Soundwave frowned harder.

"Except Harbinger."

Laserbeak, realising this conversation was heading nowhere, leaped off Soundwave's shoulder and flew down to Earth. Soundwave watched him go.

Knowledge is power. If that is the case, then I am king.

But a king is nothing without his subjects.

His gaze looked out over the Topaz Mountain.

The time has come.

This must end.

Today.

"Dispatch, a yellow Camaro and a Harley Davidson just shot past, chasing after three black Chevrolet SUVs heading west on I-80…"


Episode 28: The Battle of Glass Tears

Wake your reason's hollow vote
Wear your blizzard season coat
Burn a bridge and burn a boat
Stake a Lizard by the throat

Prince Rupert Awakes


Interview Session #4: Water will always be thicker than blood.

"Allheart," Gerin asked, "That's the name of this creature within your mind?"

Marcus nodded dismally. His skin was tight, weary, great black bags beneath his eyes. He looked like he hadn't had sleep since birth.

"The Allspark was nothing more than a cube that spread life; a literal Mother Nature. Why is this Allheart aggressive and mad?"

"He says that the sliver of life within that single shard was not sentient," Marcus murmured, "Until it encountered my brain. There, it took the human soul and tore it apart, twisted it around, ripped it to shreds… then stitched it back together and was 'born' out of what it had taken. Apparently, that Sam Witwicky guy suffered the same thing back in Egypt but died before it manifested completely. When he was resurrected, the Allspark's power had faded into the Matrix."

"And what is Allheart's power?"

"He… he says he's omnipotent."

Gerin laughed at that. "If he was omnipotent, why's he stuck in your mind?"

"Sharp bitch," Allheart muttered.

"Shut up."

"Listen Marcus; this Allheart creature seems like a bit of an idiot. Ignore him. No doubt he interrupts these interviews as much as he probably talks to himself."

"I will murder her," Allheart hissed.

Marcus smiled as Allheart felt his control slipping away into nothingness.

"Do not forget, Marcus," Allheart whispered, hatred spilling through him, "I own the night. And you will regret walking that sewer for the rest of your short, pathetic life."

"Shut. Up."

Gerin looked carefully at Marcus. She decided, suddenly. Placing her clipboard down, she said suddenly;

"Marcus, what is life to you?"

Marcus raised his eyebrows in mock horror. "Do I have to be asked such philosophically endearing questions?"

"I assumed that your outlook on life would be as good as your recent punctuation."

"Well… I dunno. I don't believe in that fate crap; and you can't predict things, not to a certainty. I never really thought about God or any of that stuff. Really… I don't know. I can't think that far ahead."

Gerin nodded, understanding. "Well… I believe life is like a river."

"A river? How so?"

"You start off as a trickle, slipping and sliding over rocks, born out of the Earth that you will forever live upon. But then you grow in size, from a trickle to a stream, from a stream to a fully-fledged river. You make your way into the world. But there'll be waterfalls and dams, and you need to do everything you can to flow past or completely drown. Deltas, rivers that represented a different choice you could have made, split off but never reach anywhere. In the end, no matter how hard the rains fall or how hard the sun beats down upon you, you shall reach the ocean; the same ocean every other river must flow into. You must flow with the river and allow it to take you where it will."

Marcus thought about this for a few seconds. "What about the rivers that don't reach the ocean?"

"They were lives that never knew, or cared for, where they were going. Do you care where you end up?"

"Yeah…"

"Where?"

"I guess… after this war is won and the Decepticons are gone, I guess I'll go with Stacy and head back home."

"And where is home?"

Marcus smiled. "Wherever we're happy."

"That's a beautiful dream, Marcus. But it is still only a dream; where will you go if it falters?"

"Wherever the river takes me."

Gerin smiled in return. "Excellent, Marcus, excellent."

"You make me sick," Allheart muttered, "Blind and doomed. Let your river carry you Marcus, and let it drown you in a whirlpool of despair."

"I never knew you were a poet. You need to tell me this shit later, when I can write it down. We could make millions."

"Be careful, Twist. Be very fucking careful."

"But I'm afraid I have some bad news," Gerin murmured sadly. "The thing is…"

"What is it?"

"I'm leaving soon. Back to France; I've been transferred to a European HARP base."

Marcus felt his heart suddenly sink, twisted cruelly by some horrible deity. He couldn't believe it; one of the last remaining people to genuinely care about him… leaving? Forever?

"B-But, but you can't!" Marcus exclaimed, "You can't just leave… not now! You said we had one more interview after this one!"

"I'm afraid that one's been cancelled," Gerin muttered miserably, "And there's nothing I can do about it. But… it's been fun, hasn't it? I have to say, Marcus, the interviews with you have been the most enjoyable talks I've had in ages…"

"B-But," Marcus protested weakly, his eyes filling with tears, "What about Allheart? What am I supposed to do with this… thing in my head? I need help!"

"I've helped all I can," Gerin said in a small voice, "Just don't worry. I have some friends across the water. I can get them to help you and Allheart."

"But…" and Marcus found he had run out of things to say. He simply stared up at Gerin's beautiful face, at a loss for words and happiness.

At once, Gerin pulled him into a hug. Marcus felt a tear roll down his cheek.

"Don't worry Marcus. Don't worry, don't worry, don't worry…"


"We are the night."

The other two ignored him. But they were actually appreciative of his voice; anything to take their minds off the pursuit.

"And, out here, it looks like night's never touched this place. This place has been wrecked by the sun."

"Shut the fuck up, Crowbar," Crankcase hissed. "Don't waste energy."

The three Dreads struck a route across the salt plains of Utah, nothing but white ground for miles and miles in every direction. The wheels beat hard upon the ground, throwing up sparks, the tires having degraded long ago.

"I hate the sun," Crowbar whispered defiantly.

Suddenly, without warning, Hatchet transformed, turned around and planted his clawed feet firmly in the salt.

"Screw this," he hissed, "I'm standing my ground. Let those miserable Autobots catch us; we'll kill them."

"The yellow one outmatches two of us," Crankcase muttered, "While the silver one outmatches all of us. Three against five are not good odds."

"Screw the odds," Hatchet snarled, crazy, "I want to taste their flesh!"

"Calm down," Crankcase hissed, "We should be able rendezvous with—"

"Screw Soundwave and screw you! I want to crush their frail, little Autobot bodies between my teeth—"

"There they are," Crowbar said. He pointed out towards the east.

Two clouds of dust approached. The Autobots were hidden behind a mirage of haze and heat.

Crankcase sighed and cocked a blaster. "Missiles early, follow up rounds accurate. Break their backs."

The three Dreads stood their ground.

And waited.


"What the hell's happened to us?" Arcee whispered in horror as she looked over Sideswipe's body. "When did we become so weak?"

"No-one's immortal, Arcee," Ratchet told her sombrely from where he worked on Optimus Prime. "Sideswipe's proving to be very resilient to his own mortality, but I'm afraid that he will no doubt pass away tonight."

"And now, with Optimus lying stricken," Mirage hissed, "Bumblebee and Sixshot are racing halfway round the world to chase down some Decepticon punks! All this… this is just sickening."

"They've even got those mockeries of us in that other hangar!" Arcee roared with fury, "'Landmine'? What kind of sick joke is this?"

"Arcee, please calm down," Kaminari asked from where she was welding parts of Optimus's head back on.

"This is bullshit!" Arcee continued, rage pumping like energon through her veins, "Everyone's split up, dying left and right, FOR WHAT?"

Mirage quickly grabbed her shoulders and steered the emotional wreck out of the hangar. She shivered slightly, before staring up at the night.

Millions of stars shone down on them. But their eyes had already mapped the heavens out before and they knew every star from every giant. They had visited half of them anyway.

"It was so much simpler when everyone was alive," Arcee whispered.

"Simpler? The word you're looking for is 'better'. Proud Cybertron was the brightest star in the sky."

"The problem with being the brightest," Arcee reflected dismally, "Is that your shadow is the tallest."

"But wasn't it good while it lasted?" Mirage asked. "That light? Surely it's worth enduring the dark if only to have the light?"

"Back then, I would've have said yes. But here, my family dead and my friends dying, the dark seems so much more memorable than the light."

"Sideswipe will be okay. This happened to me in Tibet."

"In Tibet you were blown up and your limbs pulverised. Anything with a carapace could survive that. Sideswipe's head is barely attached to his body, connected only by the fragments of a shattered spine. Even if he miraculously recovers, he won't ever walk, let alone fight, again."

The two of them became quiet, staring up at the stars.

"Against the night, the stars look so small."

"But there's millions of them."

"But the darkness is infinite. You could fit a trillion stars into space and not fill up anything. There wouldn't be anything to fill."

Mirage was silent for a moment. Then;

"This war has to end. And not with a victory."

Arcee looked up at him.

"You mean…"

"A truce. A full stop to the fighting. No more deaths; no more losses."

"That truce is far too late in the making; we've lost so many."

"But there's still many more to lose; we shouldn't dwell on the past dead but rather the living future. These humans… I was arrogant enough to believe them inferior to us… to me. But I learned on that freezing mountainside that there really was no such thing as superiority or inferiority. Just… the living and the dead. I lived through it. The humans with me did not. So know I try to keep as many with me, to help them through another day, so that they can sleep in the night… and wake in the morning."

Arcee looked back to the stars. She gazed up with mystic sorrow.

"If morning comes."


Ratchet looked up from his work to see General Mason striding into the hangar atop a second-floor gantry.

Here we go…

"Ratchet!" Mason exclaimed, "As Optimus is currently not in a position to receive orders, you're the de facto leader of the Autobots. I want a status report, now."

"Well…" Ratchet began, but stopped suddenly. He looked up at the excessively large general with a growing loathing.

"Well what?" Mason spat.

"Well," Ratchet muttered, rage beginning to fuel his words. "There is not an asshole in this world big enough to cram your status report up."

Kaminari nearly fell off Optimus Prime in shock. The whole room of scientists, soldiers and medics looked up, stunned.

Mason stared at Ratchet with a mix of surprise and absolute fury.

"Sideswipe's going to die," Ratchet hissed, "Bumblebee and Sixshot are running around America, ignorant of everyone else! Optimus lies here like a vegetable! And the only other two Autobots who can actually fight are emotional wrecks! It would be at this point that I would point out that the Wreckers are completely fine and ready for combat duty… if you hadn't arrested them, causing them to break out and roam this planet as rogues! Did I miss anything out you blustering… IDIOT!"

There was deathly silence. Kaminari looked at the enraged Ratchet with a mix of appreciation and admiration.

But there was something sinister about the silence. It occurred to Ratchet that Mason hadn't shouted in return.

The general looked down at him from the gantry, his face neither red with rage nor his face blowing up with fury. He calmly looked down at Ratchet in the same way a vulture looks into the eyes of its meal before feasting on its already dead flesh.

"I am about to walk down this gantry," Mason informed him, "And each step is a shit I don't give about what you say to me."

He began to walk down the gantry, each step on the metal surface sounding like a thunderbolt in the silent hangar. He walked down the gantry, his steps echoing across the room, down the metal steps to the ground and finally walked past the body of Optimus Prime to look up at Ratchet. Ratchet looked down and the first feelings of unease began to filter through his rage.

Mason stopped in front of him. His eyes were small and baleful.

"How many steps did I take?" he asked in a small voice. No-one else in the hangar heard him except Ratchet, whose audio receptors could pick up a frog croaking a kilometre away.

Ratchet thought about answering with the logical and correct numerical value. But he didn't.

"Enough for me to get your point," he answered, enraged.

"How many steps did I take?" he reiterated, loud enough for the hangar to hear.

"One hundred and twelve."

"One hundred and twelve."

There was silence between the two. It stretched out. Nearly everyone else in the hangar would have wanted to be somewhere else or, preferably, dead.

"One hundred and twelve shits I don't give about what you say to me," Mason near-whispered, and everyone could tell he was building up to a tirade. "Now do you want to know how many shits I don't give about you and your robotic alien buddies?"

"I'm begging to find out," Ratchet hissed.

"ONE HUNDRED AND TWELVE TO THE POWER OF FUCK YOU!" Mason exploded with the force of Olympus Mons erupting, "I AM A GENERAL YOU MISERABLE ALIEN FUCK! I COMMAND TROOPS TO DO SHIT AND THEY WILL DO SHIT, WITHOUT QUESTION! AND NOW, WITH ALL YOUR BUDDIES EITHER DEAD, HEAVILY INJURED, EMOTIONALLY APOCALYPTIC OR JUST PLAIN 'NOT HERE', YOU THINK OF GIVING ME INSUBORDINATION? FUCK YOU RATCHET, YOU PATHETIC LITTLE CREATURE! WITH A FLICK OF MY WRIST I CAN SEND YOU TO THE JUNKYARD AND USE THE MONEY I'D MAKE OFF YOUR SCRAP TO BUY SOME LOYAL SOLDIERS! DO NOT DOUBT THAT! NOW THE NEXT TWO WORDS I WANT TO HEAR OUT OF YOU ARE 'YES SIR'! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

The echoes of the general's tirade finally faded out in China, leaving the world in deathly silence of what Ratchet would do.

In his whole life, Ratchet had never truly been enraged. The war had angered him to be sure. Soldiers like Starscream and Barricade turning on their true colours had made him angry. Watching the planet disappear in their ship's viewing portal had made him both angry and sad.

And yet this little plump creature in front of him had made him so enraged, he thought of doing the one thing he hated most in the universe.

"Yes sir," he growled, and raised his foot to crush General Mason.

Almost immediately, near-everyone in the hangar drew guns and aimed them at Ratchet. Even Kaminari, who drew an EMP device and aimed it squarely at Ratchet's face. Arcee and Mirage came thundering in and soon there was a whole mass of weaponry being pointed around the room.

Mason looked up at Ratchet with a small smile and a low chuckle.

"Go on, Ratchet," he uttered, "Step on me. Let the pacifist kill me. Come on, I'm begging you. I just want to see the result while striking my golden harp."

Ratchet stared down with unmatched wrath. General Mason slowly moved a finger to his right ear and tapped it.

"You hear that?"

Despite their situation, everyone perked up their ears and audio receptors.

There was a sound like distant thunder.

"That's the sound of our USAF reinforcements," Mason told Ratchet, "If you crush me, expect this base to pulverised off the map along with your precious alien friends. Two AC-130s and a couple of F-35 wings should do the trick. So crush me. Go. Ahead."

And so Ratchet, overcome with emotions, did.

He dropped his foot down on top of General Mason—

—But it was caught. Something grasped Ratchet's foot just inches from its target.

Ratchet looked down at the hand. It was connected to Optimus Prime's arm.

The Prime looked at him with disappointed optics and, very slowly, shook his head.

Ratchet, with mixed emotions running through him, turned and fled from the hangar. Mirage and Arcee quickly followed.

Optimus slipped back out of consciousness. Mason gazed at his immobile body.

The room relaxed. Kaminari withdrew her weapon and glared at the general.

"Optimus just saved your life, sir," she said with cold anger, "I would advise you to remember that, sir."

Mason had done his day's shouting. He simply gave Kaminari a hideous little smile.

"I just saved my life, you mean," he said smugly, before striding towards the exit, every disdainful eye upon him.


"They're standing their ground," Sixshot informed him.

Bumblebee peered hard as they drove. So they were.

"They'll open fire in a couple of minutes," Sixshot said, "You ready?"

"I've been ready for aeons. I've beaten 'cons a lot bigger than me. I blew Soundwave's brains out in Chicago."

"Shame they didn't stay like that."

"You're telling me," Bumblebee chuckled. "Hey, Sixshot, where were you in the war?"

"Epsilon Sigma."

Bumblebee looked at him in surprise.

"You were way out there? Why?"

"I was one of the explorers, sent out to find sentient life. But an object flying at superluminal speeds knocked me off course and unconscious. When I came to, I flew back to Cybertron… but I was far too late.

"Seeing your planet dead and covered with corpses is not an easy thing to see. Shockwave was the ruling monarch there, so I had no choice but get press-ganged into the Decepticon military."

"You were a Decepticon?" Bumblebee asked edgily.

"Yeah. But things happened on that planet I'd rather not recall. I left the Decepticons after blowing several holes in them. I escaped to the stars and decided to log as many uncharted planets as I could, in accordance with my original assignment. Eventually, I found my way here. I met a human who's an explorer as well. He's cool."

"You mean the jackass in the stupid coat?" Bumblebee asked.

"Yes, that's of course what I meant to say."

Several missiles impacted into the ground around them.

"Time to go to work," Bumblebee announced, swerving and dodging.

"This place is beautiful, don't you think?" Sixshot asked as he leaped over an explosion.

"You mean this boring plain, or the Earth?"

"Both."

Bumblebee rolled around another explosion. He thought about it.

"Yeah. It is."

And then they were smashing into the Dreads in a whirlwind of twisted metal.


Cunningham looked through the binoculars once more from the Topaz Mountain.

"So now the Autobots and the humans are beating each other up? It's like fucking Christmas down here."

"Yes sir," replied his lieutenant.

"Get the stockings up, lieutenant, and pray you're on the good list."

"P-Pardon, sir?"

"It was a joke lieutenant, relax."

"Yes sir."

"I wonder how Commander Eisenhower is getting on."

"I don't think he's engaged the aliens, sir."

Cunningham nodded and peered through the binoculars again.

Divide and conquer. It's the oldest trick of them all. All we have to do is wait and let them tear themselves apart.

The Topaz Mountain sees all.


Resting on one of the office building's balconies, Marcus Twist was miserable.

Gerin's leaving, the Autobots are upset, I'm upset, everyone in the world's upset over New York… the Decepticons must be getting a kick out of this. All they're doing is waiting. What a dirty, underhanded tactic.

"But extremely effective," Allheart hissed, "Almost as effective as doing all you can."

"And what are you doing?"

"Waiting."

"For what?"

"For you to go to sleep."

"Why? What stupid visions will you put in my head?"

"None. That's the point; I'll let you have the nicest sleep you've ever had."

"…Why?"

"Because it'll the last one you ever have."

"Wow. I'm not even believing in your crazy bullshit anymore."

"Fine then, don't believe. The outcome will still be the same."

Marcus looked up at the stars.

"Who built you?" he asked.

"What?"

"You were a huge cube. Who created the cube?"

"No-one did. We are the primordial life. Everything began from us, everything is a part of us, everything is us."

"Yawn. That's a load of bullshit too."

"You imbecile. You cannot even understand the magnitude of our impact on life!"

"Listen, if you are the… thing that created everything, I would expect you to be a little more… magnanimous. And not a filthy-mouthed little demon."

"Sometimes you go a bit batty, being immortal. And you go even crazier trying to achieve immortality."

"So it's good to die?"

"No. Dying and living forever are as bad as each other."

"Oh wow. Looks like my future's going to be great."

Allheart looked at him with loathing.

"You still don't understand."

"You never explain anything."

"You still don't understand the magnitude of death. It is the one thing I cannot decipher in my infinite libraries of all life."

"You're scared of death?"

"It is the only thing I'm scared of."

"Well… you know what one of our wise men once said?"

"Of course I would know. After all, you've given me a clear and precise picture of who that wise man is and what he said."

Marcus groaned. "Your sarcasm's as ugly as your face."

"Whatever. What'd he say?"

"To conquer death, you only have to die."

Allheart mulled that over.

"What a dumb outlook on death," he concluded.

"Never mind."

"You gazing up at the stars?" Stacy asked, coming up beside him.

"Yeah. And going insane. It's a real blast."

"Don't say stuff like that," she chided, lightly punching his arm, "You're perfectly sane."

"For today, at least," said Ryder, also joining them.

"A fool's company," Allheart groaned.

"But then again," Ryder muttered, "I did see you sleepwalking last night."

"I was?" Marcus exclaimed.

"Oh fuck."

"What was I doing?" Marcus pressed.

Ryder looked at him as if he was a monkey. "Sleep. Walking," he said in the precise tones of an adult condescendingly pestering a child.

"So what if he was!" Stacy said, throwing an arm around Marcus's neck, "At least he's more popular than you!"

"Popularity is a word found in my dictionary of shits not given."

"That reminds me," Marcus remembered, "Did you hear the roaring General Ballsack made?"

"Yeah. I have to admit, I'm probably going to do the 'shits not given steps' insult to someone in future. That was a pretty good one for him."

"The point still stands," Stacy interrupted, "Ryder has as many friends as he does good clothes."

"In that case, I'm surprised I'm not the messiah reborn," Ryder said with a shrug.

"You actually think those clothes make you cool?"

"They make me look human. That's good enough."

"I've never even seen you with a girl."

"That's because there's a distinct lack of those my age wherever we go."

"Then again, you might not like girls…"

Ryder looked at her through the sunglasses. "The truth of the matter is, both boys and girls interest me in the same way this war does. Not one fucking bit."

"Oh, so you got a thing for robots then," Stacy worked out while Marcus stifled a guffaw, "You have been getting close to that Sixshot guy."

"I only talk with Sixshot because he doesn't have the mind of a mentally-handicapped rabbit. If you think I have a 'thing' for titanic alien war machines, I'd highly advise you not to call Marcus insane until you look in a mirror."

"I never called him insane!"

"You're halfway there. Now go look in a mirror."

Marcus shook his head. "I'm surrounded by idiots," he cried melodramatically.

"Well at least you're not moping," Ryder said and stretched his arms out, yawning, "It's going to be a hell of a day tomorrow."

"How?"

"I've got a feeling people will be dying."

"Oh come on, that's not fair," Marcus cried, "You two were just cheering me up!"

"Sorry kid, but the truth's hard to face."

"It's not the truth," Stacy said hotly, "No-one's dying tomorrow."

Ryder yawned again. "Yet again, it has been an absolutely woeful experience to have my intelligence degraded by your company. I'm turning in. Problem is, I may not wake up tomorrow."

Stacy waved her arms in the air. "The mysterious Ryder, who's got more bullshit in his mouth than under his coat, dramatically calls it a day!"

Ryder tapped Marcus on the head. "Just remember little guy, there's nothing to fear in here."

And then he turned and walked away.

Just then several planes whooshed overhead.

"Looks like some Air Force reinforcements have arrived," Marcus noted, "Those guys better not die like the last several hundred…"

"Marcus, look…"

Marcus followed Stacy's finger towards the hangar where all the commotion had taken place.

Optimus Prime was getting up.


Kick, punch, slice, stab, kick, punch, slice, stab…

The battle raged.

An even plain, uneven numbers.

Sixshot smashed an uppercut into Crankcase's chin, sending him flying backwards, before completing a roundhouse kick on Hatchet, which tripped the beast. Bumblebee charged forward, blowing a hole in Crowbar's side before following up with a left hook, breaking his jaw.

The Dreads fell back, having lost the round.

"We can do this all day," Crankcase spat, venomously.

"We can do this all year," Sixshot replied, twirling his revolvers. "Who's next?"

An explosion tore up the ground between the two sides. Both Dreads and Autobots turned to the north.

Several armoured vehicles were rolling through the salt plains, firing cannons and missiles.

"It seems you've brought your human friends to help," Crankcase hissed.

A shell smashed into Bumblebee's chest, sending him sprawling backwards into the salt.

"Not our friends," Sixshot muttered, halting in the spinning of his guns.

Several more shells shot past them, detonating a way behind them. Sixshot and Crankcase found each other's optics.

"How about we resume our fight until after these guys are dealt with?" Sixshot asked.

Crankcase grimaced in disgust, but knew his team could not hope to fight both the Autobots and the humans at the same time.

"Fine," he hissed, transformed and shot across the salt, the two other Dreads following.

Sixshot pulled Bumblebee back to his feet and tapped him on the noggin.

"You awake?" he rudely questioned.

"W-What happened?" Bumblebee asked, in a daze.

"We're teaming up with the Dreads to take down some humans. You in?"

Bumblebee stared at Sixshot with apprehension and horror.

A missile exploded, too close.

"Fine," he muttered, "But we're killing those bastards afterwards, right?"

"Oh yes. I've already prepared three house-sized wooden boxes for our return. That'll fit them."

"Or they'll fit us," Bumblebee said and shot off through the salt plains.

Sixshot was not far behind.


"Commander Eisenhower!" a major roared, "The five of them are charging us!"

"Shit."

Five vehicles, three similar, two completely out of place on the Utah landscape, were heading straight towards them. Fifteen tanks and twenty IFVs kept firing away, Eisenhower atop one of them.

"I thought these guys were mortal enemies," Eisenhower hissed. "And now they're teaming up?"

"I think we should have waited until a side had won!" the major voiced, much to Eisenhower's annoyance.

"It seems they can put away some grudges for aliens," Eisenhower muttered, ignoring his aide completely.

"Sir?" the major continued to pester, "Should we continue firing?"

"What do you think—?" but Eisenhower cut himself off. "Actually, they might stop if we stop. Give the order major."

A couple of seconds later, all was silent.

With the exception of the five vehicles that kept on coming.

"Uh, sir…?"

Eisenhower frowned.

The five vehicles kept on coming. They showed no signs of stopping.

"Sir?"

Eisenhower frowned harder.

Behind his hood, Crankcase grinned.

"OPEN FIRE!" the commander roared.


It did not last long.

Sixshot and Bumblebee leapt into the air and transformed, lasers and rockets propelling straight into the mass of armoured artillery. Tanks exploded and flames turned skin to ash and organs to steam. The Dreads didn't even bother with any weaponry, charging straight into the group of tanks like a triumvirate of runaway trains. The lumbering tanks and other assorted armour couldn't get out of the way in time and so were flung around overworked puppets. They smashed into each other, exploded, men screaming as they were torn apart by both flame and fist.

But, to their credit, they fought back.

Hatchet took the worst of it, a missile to the throat. Fire burned up and down his neck in a sensation similar to choking, while a hind leg was crushed under some treads. Bumblebee was blown back by another shell, falling into an exploding tank, as fires raged all around them. Crowbar's jaw was finally sent spinning from his mouth after Eisenhower lodged a sabot round in his cheek. The Dread replied in kind by crushing the Answerer in his fist.

It was over pretty quickly.

Bumblebee paced through the burnt wreckage, the sun helping to fuel the fires that raged on the plains. He looked around in slight disgust.

"What were they even doing here? What was the point in this?"

"To provoke you."

The five cybertronians turned.

Standing among the wreckage, arms crossed with a sinister look, was Soundwave.

The Dreads quickly retreated behind him.

"What are you doing here?" Bumblebee asked, his right arm becoming a cannon.

"I do not wish to waste any more time or lives in this debacle," Soundwave informed him, "So here it is; I wish to offer you and the rest of the Autobots a truce."

The Dreads looked up at the Decepticon commander in shock. The Autobots did likewise.

"A truce," Sixshot muttered, "This is highly suspicious."

"No it isn't," Soundwave argued, "Look around you. This is the machination of a force far greater than you. Pieces are moving into place. People are readying themselves for a grand finale to this war."

"Explain," Bumblebee insisted hotly.

"The corpses you've helped create were part of a highly-militarised group known as the Answerers. I've had tabs on them for a long time, but until now have not given me cause for alarm. They are the result of what happened to the Initiative a few years ago; this is the genesis of that group. But I know everything about them and know how to beat them. There's just one problem…"

"Us?" Bumblebee guessed.

"No. Harbinger."

"As if that name means anything," Sixshot said, "What's Harbinger?"

"Whatever Harbinger is, I believe it's in cohesion with the Answerers. In what way or in what context I have not discovered. All I know is that Harbinger is powerful, unknown and extremely influential. I believe it will be making its move soon; this is why I wish to call a truce, so that we can both prepare for this threat and hopefully combat it together."

"How will Harbinger attack us?" Bumblebee asked.

"Unknown."

"When will Harbinger attack us?"

"Unknown."

"Then how do you know it will attack us?"

"I have my sources. Most of them wrong, yet the ones who were right did not live long enough to divulge their full information. One human I have tracked all the way to your HARP base has left a trail of dead witnesses behind him; that man knows more about Harbinger than anybody and Harbinger has made sure that no-one else does. Interrogate him if you wish, it should not take you long to work out who he is."

There was silence.

"This truce," Bumblebee murmured steadily, "Can't be decided by us. We need to confer with Optimus…"

"Optimus is lying bed stricken," Soundwave said with a grin, "And I will not return without an answer, now."

"No need to worry," Sixshot muttered, "We accept your truce. Bumblebee, let's get out of here."

Without another word, Sixshot transformed and charged off, leaving Bumblebee to flounder and quickly follow.

"Megatron really called for a truce?" Crankcase asked in wonder.

"No," Soundwave said.

"I did."


"Their pathetic truce won't save them," Allheart murmured, "They will all die. And unless you say yes, so will you."

Marcus sat in a corner of the darkness, his back turned to the creature.

"What's so bad about death?" Marcus asked. "Death comes to us all. To one of your immortal presence, I'd thought death would entice you!"

There was an uncharacteristic silence. Marcus turned around curiously.

Allheart stared at him. He wasn't grinning. His two, huge, white eyes penetrated Marcus's soul.

"Death does come to us all," he whispered. "But why is that a good thing?"

"It's unavoidable. We live, we die. That's it. It's not bad, it's not good. It just is."

"Oh really?" Allheart snarled, "How narrow-minded and ignorant you are!"

"Oh, so you're saying there's a hell then?" Marcus replied, a grin appearing on his face, "That means I'm pretty safe, but you're not! No wonder you're so angry!"

"You fool! There is no afterlife! I've been among so many countless civilisations, watched them grow and die, watched them make up their own religions around me to know THERE IS NO AFTERLIFE!"

Marcus crouched back.

"Heaven and Hell are nothing more than imaginary hopes," Allheart hissed, "Like dreams. They are fictional paradises… nothing more."

Marcus frowned.

"Death is simply not just there, Twist. It is cold and painful and the sooner you learn that, the sooner you'll wish to avoid it! I'd rather be immortal, than suffer the cold reality of nothingness!"

"You're mad," Marcus dismissed. "Death is the end of life, but not of ourselves. There's got to be more after death! There's got to be!"

In less than a second, Allheart had a claw around Marcus's throat. He gasped, trying to free himself from a freezing grip.

"Let me show you," Allheart whispered. "That the only paradises are those in life. Let me show you Xanadu, let me show you paradise. Let me show you death, Marcus Twist."

With that, he swallowed Marcus whole.

And Marcus found himself falling, spinning, twisting, turning…

His screams were drowned in sound and fury.