Blackarachnia spread her arms aside, blocking the advancing organics. 'Waitwaitwaitwaitwait just a moment. Hold on, alright?'

The organics stopped and stood, surrounding the two Cybertronians malevolently.

'Okay, so maybe we don't like each other, but maybe we also got off on the wrong foot.' Blackarachnia wagered, rubbing her hands together. 'Maybe we should—you know, reintroduce ourselves. See, my name is Blackarachnia, hi. And the big, crusty fella behind me is Ironhide.'

'Mmf.'

'Hidey, please, you are so crusty. You're even crustier than a—.'

'For your own sake, do not finish that sentence.' A tiger-like alien growled, fittingly.

Blackarachnia quickly bowed her head. 'My apologies. I was going to say something inappropriate.' She sighed. 'But let's not focus on the noise of this conversation. I think if we take a breather, and calmly talk this out, we can form some real, solid, relationships here.'

'You're under arrest.' Said a blue alien that resembled something of a moth-man wearing a fedora.

Blackarachnia threw her arms in the air, carelessly. 'Oh yeah? And what are you, a cop?'

'Well, yes.' The fedora alien replied, revealing his holo-badge.

Her arms dropped. 'Oh.'

'It has been Talonian law for years now that in accordance to any unregistered conflict between Cybertronians within civilian area, actions must be taken to restrain and place into custody, any and all Cybertronians until established contact with both Autobot headquarters, and the Vestial Imperium.'

Blackarachnia groaned. 'Ugh… the Vestial Imperium.' She turned to face Ironhide. 'I hate the Vestial Imperium.'

The Quintesson levitated over the bar, slithering slowly towards the group. 'Regardless, you don't have a say in this matter. We've seen it all before, the number of times you and your race have turned face in contrast to when you've actually spent facing consequences is unsettlingly high.

Blackarachnia extended an arm to the Quint, crossly. 'Oh, come on! We haven't done anything bad yet!'

The tiger-like alien raised a brow. 'Yet?'

'Well…' she let out an awkward laugh. 'Well the night is still young! I mean, anything can happen! And after midnight, woo, let me tell ya, if you see any corpses hanging from telephone poles, well, who knows who the culprit might be.' She snickered, gesturing to herself. She leaned over towards a muscular, bird-like alien and thumbed at her face. 'Hint, it's this sexy lady right here.'

The organics – as well as Ironhide - looked past and around her, confused as to who this lady was, she was talking about.

Blackarachnia slumped over in defeat, barely recovering from the burn. 'Oh…'

The Quintesson's face rotated to a light blue, calmer expression. 'You are to remain within the vicinity until proper enforcement officers have arrived to take you in for questioning.'

'But I just said—'

'That you did nothing wrong?' An ape-like alien rose among the crowd. 'You literally just robbed us.'

'What?'

'The card game, you stole from us, didn't you? I don't have the money I won from the game, so you must have…' The alien trailed off.

'Who told y—I mean, no! No, why would I… steal from you after losing the same amount of creds?'

The tiger-alien said: 'We literally heard you bragging about it right after beating us. The bar is only a foot away from the gambling table.'

'Oh.'

'Why would you steal the same amount you bet?' the ape-alien wondered.

'I don't—'

'I mean, who does that? Why not just steal from us before making a bet?'

'She was also totally just about to leave without paying for her drinks.' The Quintesson added.

Blackarachnia wrapped her clawed servos across her optics. 'Look, I—I am not always in the right mind, I've been… unwell.'

Ironhide laughed at this statement, prompting a quick jab to the rib by Blackarachnia. 'You shut your mouth, crusty crab.'

The muscular bird alien squawked: 'If you ask me, you sound like you've got egg on your face- SQUAAAAAAAWWWKK!'

The tiger-alien stared at the muscular bird nauseously. 'Dude… don't you lay eggs?'

The fedora'd alien nodded in agreement. 'Yeah, I've got to agree, that's a pretty nasty expression coming from you. Eggs are like—ovaries for you guys.'

The bird-alien shrugged, playfully. 'Well you know what to say, there's more than one way to cook an omelette. CRAAWWWW!'

The surrounding aliens made a variety of "eww" noises.

'Oh God.' Blackarachnia sighed. 'Its things like these that keep me convinced that the Decepticons are meant to conquer the galaxy.'

Ironhide let out a shocked grunt through the mints still packed in his cheeks.

Blackarachnia raised a brow. 'What? I know I'm not a Decepticon anymore, but you can't look me in the eye and tell me these life-forms are well off.'

'The only reason we're not all "well off" is because of your war!' The Quintesson said. 'Do you think we want to be ruled by your group of death-machines?

'Well, why do you think we're fighting?' Blackarachnia was losing her temper, how Ironhide was staying quiet, she couldn't figure out. 'The point is for one of us to win and end the conflict. If not the Decepticons, then the Autobots, they may not do anything to help, but if you want to stay in rubble then why not accept the people we're allied with? You organics are always grouping the entire Cybertronian race together like we've not been split into all these factions for a reason.'

'Because none of your factions are any better, and what's worse is you think they are.' The Quintesson's face rotated to a darker red. 'The Autobots fight in the name of freedom, but what they want is order. No matter how often Magnus says the Autobots have moved on from the days of functionism, those practises and lessons still remain tucked beneath the skin of the Autobot taxonomy. Decepticons threaten us to bow to them, and if we don't, they try and destroy us. Okay. And the Autobots work on protecting us, alright, I can respect that. But how many times do you pack up and leave once the threat is over? You rarely pick up after yourselves, leaving the so-called "lesser beings" of the galaxy to clean the up after you. And when you do stay, you tear up massive pieces of land without our permission, disobey dozens of trust-policy, and privacy laws with your disguises, use up our resources for your own benefit, and build massive cities, outposts, and space-stations looming over civilian populaces with a laser pointing down. Again, without the permission of anyone.'

'Look, I absolutely agree that the Autobot manifesto is darker and far more pretentious than anyone lets on—but even I can understand that they do it for the sake of your safety—to control sectors of the galaxy before the Decepticons do. I don't agree with it, but what do you expect them to do? Not defend you?'

'I expect them not to draw targets on our backs.' The Quintesson's face rotated into a new form. 'It is your war. By using our worlds, you have only created more problems for us. Both of you are destroying the galaxy, both physically, and structurally. You act like defending us is noble, but if not all, most of you wouldn't even flinch if you stepped on one of us during a conflict. You don't care about the rest of the galaxy, you just can't accept the fact that what you've been doing for the past millions of years is wrong. You can't accept that your race is no longer the shining-evolutionary-miracle you used to be. Your races' propaganda has – literally – been programmed so well into your overly-complicated neuro-circuits for you to even notice. The Transformers are machines, pure and simple.'

Blackarachnia was silent. And the rest of the organics were forced to nod in unison, generally agreeing.

'Can I just ask a question?' Blackarachnia said, hoarsely.

'You may.'

'What's a Transformer?'

The organics couldn't wrap their heads around it. 'What do you mean?'

Ironhide muffled something to Blackarachnia.

'Oh.'

'What'd he say?'

Ironhide spat out the mints and cleared his throat. 'I said it was a pet-name you lot gave us. Because of how we, you know.'

Ironhide transformed into his heavy-artillery mode, aiming his cannons upward and firing a massive burst of energy into the sky, creating a display that was not unlike a fire-work performance, drops of fire rained down, and while it wasn't lethal, or even all that painful, it caused the organics to scatter into a frenzy of panic. Organics of all sizes freaked out, scurrying around in panic, activating their smaller weaponry, or even just standing paralyzed in the face of Cybertronian fire-power.

The Quintesson's tentacles waved in the air, trying to calm them down. 'Stay strong, friends, we will not falter to two Transformers. United we stand!' His face flipped around once again, changing back to a crimson scowl. 'Besides, we have full authority to dismantle them now!'

Ironhide transformed, pressing his back against Blackarachnia's.

The former Decepticon grinned chillingly as her stalks emerged from her spine and curved over their heads. 'I'm glad you came to your senses.' She mused in morbid excitement. 'I had a feeling those covers wouldn't be able to muffle your cannons for long. Let's kill them. Let's—we're going to paint these walls red with these bastard's visceral fluids, and sweet—sweet muscle tissues. Oh God, we are going to tear through their soft bodies so easily.'

'We're not killing them.' Ironhide said, quietly.

Blackarachnia looked at him; her mouth semi agape. Truthfully, she wasn't all that surprised. 'You heard what they said. I know you're as trigger-happy as I am, Hidey. So admit it, you want to tear these animals apart for what they said just as much as I do.'

Ironhide cocked a brow. 'This isn't a matter of admitting the truth, Decepticon. If you want the truth, I am fuming mad, and when that happens, I am fully content with - and capable of – killing whoever I deem necessary.' He shut off his cannons. 'But I respect Optimus too much for that.' He pointed to the exit, which was in fact, still guarded by the two bouncers, trying to calm the outrage. 'We need to get out of here and get to Optimus as soon as possible, and if we need to fight our way out—'

'Then we have an excuse to hit these guys.' Blackarachnia finished.

Ironhide lifted a strict servo to the Decepticon. 'Yes, but only hitting. Just enough to knock them out.' The organics began to come together, surrounding the two like a ring of fire. 'If you kill anyone, and if I see anyone die, Optimus will know, and we will leave this place without you.'

Blackarachnia sighed. 'I know. And I know you will.' She prepared her stance as the bird-alien dashed at her for the attack. She threw a punch, cracking the organic's head to the side and sending cracks through its beak.

'Glad that's settled.' Ironhide readied his fists. 'Now as for the rest of you. We are both feeling very violent right now, not because we've been drinking for the past hour, not because our planet is a barren husk, not because we're two of the three most wanted Cybertronians in the galaxy, and not because we have to learn to work together without Optimus keeping us in check for once, but because of one, pure and simple reason.' He slammed his fists together, and a loud "wham" noise echoed through the room as metal collided with metal in the palm of his hand. 'You pissed us off.'


'I'm sorry. So, so, sorry.' Ramjet droned on, he was broken in both mind and spirit and running on fumes as he carried Starscream through the sky. 'I just—I sided with Sunstorm because he told me I would get to fight. He didn't say they wouldn't be Autobots.'

'Shut up.' Starscream said, hands clasped together tightly.

But Ramjet wouldn't. His mind was lost in transmission. He kept talking, because as far as he knew, that was what would keep him alive. Oh wait, he thought: 'I'm not going to be alive for much longer, y'know.'

'I don't care. Fly.'

'I mean I'm dying. I have only so much time left to live.'

'If you don't keep flying, I'll kill you.'

'The reason I joined Sunstorm was because of something Hotlink told me. He said I only had about a day to live.'

'He was lying.'

'It's sad, I know, but apparently I brought it upon myself. I'd regret it, but nothing is going to keep me from—.' Ramjet stopped. Starscream didn't take note of this, but Ramjet had to be certain. 'What did you say?'

'I said he was lying.'

Ramjet's voice turned to panic. 'I—um, do you want to clarify?'

'No.'

'I'm not asking—please, Starscream, tell me what you mean.'

'I mean Hotlink lied about your illness. He was one of Sunstorm's supporters before you, wasn't he?'

'I thought—.'

'Well, I guess it doesn't matter what you think. To clarify, Sunstorm had Hotlink give you a due-date so he could manipulate you into doing something drastic. In this case, joining with him so that Slipstream had no big-named support. Believe me, I know a manipulator when I see one.'

'So I'm not going to…' Ramjet felt somehow relieved. 'I'm not going to die…?' Ramjet laughed, his cracked vocal processor fizzing and bubbling as he did so. 'It all makes sense! I'm not going to die!'

'Oh, you're still going to die.'

'Hah! That's why you're keeping me alive! You've only got three soldiers under your command. It's why you're getting to know me, too! You're going to let me join your brigade and everything! Right?'

'No.'

Ramjet kept laughing. He kept laughing all the way to the Nemesis.


Obsidian was bleeding and broken. Energon pouring from his pours, and his body mangled to the point of only barely holding together.

'Damn you, Starscream.' He muttered quietly.

The moment his commander had left, everything had gone out of control. Sunstorm and his squad had decimated him. Their combined firepower shot him out of the sky, and once grounded, the group piled on him— assaulting and flaying him like their own personal sandbag. The fact he was alive was a miracle. Sunstorm was apparently willing to let his men have their fun with blitzing and torturing him for their own amusement, as he was sure they could have killed him by now had they focused a shot to his head, but then, he could never tell how smart the average Decepticon soldier was. He managed to get away, scathed, but not dead. Firing a missile into one of their pig-nosed faces gave him the time he needed to activate his rotors and drag himself off the side of the Nemesis. He was hiding now— latched onto the tip of the Nemesis' upper canopy with his drenched stomach cavity facing the city below. The Seekers were still circling the Nemesis, scouring the skies for him, none apparently smart enough to look literally under the ship's nose. Obsidian panted as Sunstorm walked overhead, his footsteps varying in volume.

'I gave you one order— kill a single defector, and you're telling me you "lost him"?!' Sunstorm was clutching a soldier by the throat. His screams elevating as his throat melted in the Seeker's grip. 'He is a helicopter for Primacron's sake! I don't care how great a strategist he is, he cannot just disappear in thin air.' The screaming Seeker's voice curdled and died as the connecting tissue between his head and his torso gave-way, causing his skull to roll off Sunstorm's fist and drop against the ground. The Nemesis' commander marched over to the tip of the Nemesis, standing directly above Obsidian. 'He can't be hiding far. Find him.'

As the other soldiers quickly got back to work, Obsidian felt his grip against the Nemesis weaken. To his horror, a loud scratching noise sounded in his periphery, he could hear it, and Sunstorm could hear it too. It was his rotor, it had been scraping against the ship's hull and creating a grating noise.

Goddammit.

Sunstorm paused, and turned his head towards the sound, prompting an inquiry from Bitstream.

'Is everything alright, my lord?

'Yes I… hm.' Sunstorm took a step towards the tip of the ship, then another, advancing on the noise. Obsidian cursed to himself and his spark burned. It was as if time was slowing all around him.

Sunstorm looked lost, almost concerned by the sound as he approached it. He knelt on one knee, running a digit across the ship's hull and carving a small trail in the shape of a winding worm. He hummed and lowered himself closer, pressing his audio receptor against the ship's cold exterior, listening to the quiet buzz of Obsidian's rotor right beneath him.

Obsidian shut his optics, breathing heavily. This was it, he'd have to make his stand.

'Sunstorm!' Bitstream suddenly blurted. 'I just got a call from Braketaker in the lower levels, well, I got a scream. He's dead now. It seems Strika has infiltrated the ship somehow. She and Acid Storm's group have been on the warpath through the ships interior—they'll be here any minute!'

Sunstorm rose to his feet. 'As I expected. We still have over two-dozen Seeker's left, here.' He stepped away from the sound and moved towards his lieutenant. 'Rally them, and tell them to prepare for battle.' He clasped his hands behind his back. 'We outnumber them two to one—this battle will be over before long.'

Obsidian let out a quiet sigh as Sunstorm's footsteps grew softer. Thank God he had Strika.

'Oh.' Sunstorm said to himself, stopping mid-way. 'I almost forgot.' The golden Seeker turned around and sprinted back towards the tip of the ship, kneeling above the sound once again. He raised his fist above his head, gathering energy, until a ball of flames formed around his wrist. He struck the ship, punching through the canopy's metal and cleaving away to the noise beneath. In one motion, Sunstorm clenched Obsidian's throat and wrenched him out through the burning platform, hanging him high above his head.

Obsidian let out a pained scream as Sunstorm's pyro-kinetic touch burned through his outer armour.

'You didn't think you could hide from me, did you?' Sunstorm exchanged hands, grabbing the strategist by forehead; singing his face and stinging his optics. Obsidian tried to wrestle the Seeker by the wrists, but all it did was burn the skin off his fingers. 'You thought I wouldn't notice you from a foot away? Pathetic.' He held him up high so the others could see. 'Look! I found him, now that didn't take long at all, did it?' He pulled the suffering wreck to his face so he could see him eye-to-eye. 'Poor Obsidian… I had such high hopes for you. You were such a loyal follower of Megatron. He trusted you. And yet here you stand… so to speak. Why, Obsidian? Before I crush the brain-module responsible for so many decisive victories, entertain me—why did you side with Starscream?'

Obsidian managed to voice his thoughts. 'I… need him.'

'Oh!' Sunstorm pressed his servo to his chest. 'Well isn't that sweet.'

'You… idiot.' Obsidian coughed up a wad of oil, which was almost immediately set aflame as the wires connecting his throat began to curl into singed metal like peeling wallpaper. 'I… need him… for… my own…' he coughed again.

'For your own plans. Your machinations. Your ideas. Yes, that is why you're going to die here, Obsidian. We aren't meant to think for ourselves. All of you, coming up with your own ideas—you are treading ground we were never meant to. Our sole purpose isn't to come up with ideas, it is to serve God.' He pressed a digit against the center of his forehead in frustration. Burning a small hole in the process. 'All of you… why can't you understand… I just—why can you never…'

'Obsidian!'

Strika stood outside the elevator—a dozen allied seeker's standing behind her. Sunstorm's own men dropped from the sky, standing alongside him with their guns cocked and glowing.

'Ah, I'm glad you're here, Strika. Surely you will understand.'

Strika's shoulder cannons were trained on Sunstorm, her optics searing red. 'You put him down.'

'Hah, nice one. That's a very funny "joke", Strika. But no, I'm pretty sure I'm going to kill Obsidian for what he's done.'

He chuckled, switching hands, and digging his fingers deeper into his skull.

Strika clenched her fists, her breath turning violent at she glared at the Nemesis' commander. 'I'm going to kill you.'

'I don't think so, but how about this: let's not kill each-other! As in: neither of us dies here.' He gestured to Obsidian. 'Look, I am killing Obsidian right in front of you— I've already started, if you can't already tell. I am currently melting his skull until my pyro-kinetic servo finally reaches his brain module. I'm giving him a slow-death so that he can pay for his sins. But it doesn't have to be this way. I know you two are close, join me, and I'll let you kill him. You can end his suffering right now before the real pain starts, all you need to do is succeed where he has failed, and join my guiding hand.'

Strika didn't react. Sunstorm expected a look of sadness, pain or fear from the giant upon watching her consort die before her—regret, or even love. But all he saw from Strika was a look of unadulterated rage. She was going to kill him, even if it resulted in Obsidian dying in the process.

Sunstorm sighed. 'Very well, in this case you could at least admit your loss, Ramjet has no doubt disposed of Starscream by now, and Obsidian is already too far gone. If you won't give up, then I guess I have no choice but to—.' He dropped Obsidian against the ground, staring forward at the approaching object that dotted the sky. 'What the hell is that?'


Ramjet jetted towards the Nemesis, his crumpled body in full view to Sunstorm and his followers. 'Starscream! You know how you said I didn't need arms to become a jet? Well—um, I do. My landing gear is actually connected to my elbow… which you left back at the— you know.'

'Oh.'

'Well—I can't land!'

'Land.'

'I can't!'

'Ramjet.'

'Yes…?'

'You can fly at the Nemesis, yes?'

'Yeah, but—!'

'You can fly onto the hull with the others, yes?'

'I can but—I'd crash!'

'So?'

'—and there's no room! The hull is covered in other Cybertronians!'

'It doesn't matter. Land.'

'But I'll crash into them! Some of them are on your side!'

'So?'

Ramjet understood. He activated his boosters and jetted at the Nemesis, nose-cone first. Ramjet lived up to his name for one last time...


The blast was huge. Ramjet's body exploded as he "rammed" into the battlefield, engulfing soldiers from both sides and plunging the Nemesis into a warzone once again. He had indeed, succeeded in killing a great number of people as he hoped. Starscream had long since detached himself from the Seeker and landed firmly in the middle of the battle. Strika supplied fire from behind him at Sunstorm and his crew as Obsidian crawled to the side-lines, free of danger. Starscream walked forward, one of Sunstorm's men jumped at him, only to be carelessly grabbed by the throat, and throttled mercilessly by the Aerospace Commander's bloodied fists. He continued this until his arm had pierced clean through the soldier's skull. A second seeker jumped at him, and Starscream grabbed them by the head, jerking his elbow backwards and ripping it clean off his shoulders before chucking it at another Seeker that charged him. He activated chest compartment and fired a barrage of missiles that would seek-out several of Sunstorm's—and even his own – soldiers and explode on impact. Those that attempted to fire on Starscream afar were met with the bulk of Strika, who proceeded to karate-chop one grunt in half from head to crotch with one arm and strike her fist through a seeker's torso with the other— ripping their chest out in a trail of multi-coloured wires.

Sunstorm remained steadfast, unloading a barrage of flames; feeding the explosion and turning the sky orange. 'This is where you die, Starscream. You will not threaten my ascension!'

His flames flowered until a whirlpool of red and yellow circled around him—blinding everything it touched. Strika was sent tumbling backwards as Obsidian transformed with what energy he had and evaded the attack. From the flames, the figure of Starscream stood, stomaching the burns and stepping through, his optics burning with a deeper intensity than Sunstorm's flames ever could. The fire reflected off the red seeker's plating, cascading with shades of crimson and gold. It looked as though he were bathing in the flames. He stepped forward and raised his servos. Before Sunstorm knew it, the two seekers clashed—their hands intertwined in combat. Despite this, Starscream felt no burns. Sunstorm escalated his power, only for Starscream to kick the golden seeker in the shin, turning him vulnerable and off-balance. Starscream proceeded to use his fists, beating down the "chosen one" with a blazing ferocity combined with a somber disposition Sunstorm had never seen from him before. Sunstorm coughed and drooled as Starscream kicked him in the gut. The gold seeker transformed, searing through the sky and returning to deal a volley of missile-fire that torched Starscream's torso. Starscream responded with another barrage of missile-fire that blew Sunstorm out of the sky, forcing him to transform once again, and land on his pedes. The "chosen-one" slashed and clawed at Starscream, only to feel a sharp pain in his back. It was Obsidian, he was hovering in helicopter mode with laser's smoking; still in the fight. Sunstorm growled as he threw a punch that was promptly blocked by Starscream's arm. The Aerospace commander proceeded to return the favour and smashed his fist against Sunstorm's face, sending him flying to the tip of the Nemesis. Sunstorm lifted himself up; his face a train of emotion from confusion, to fear, and ultimately, to understanding. He leapt off the side of the ship, transforming once again and unleashed his flames at the Nemesis' outer shell, forming a small hole that melted before him. Before Starscream could supply any firepower, Sunstorm had already accelerated into the ship.

'What the hell is he doing?!' Starscream demanded. The battlefield was strewn with bodies, and very few Seekers remained. All that appeared to be left were Obsidian, Strika, Acid Storm and under half of his initial group. The Nemesis began to quake as vibrations ran through the ship and up the Decepticons legs.

'He's trying to escape!' Obsidian roared, hovering next to Starscream. 'These vibrations—he's set the Nemesis to warp!'

'Dammit.' Starscream pointed to his back. 'Obsidian, fix my thrusters—quickly.' As Obsidian got to work recharging his thruster's, Starscream gave out his orders. 'If we stay here as it warps—we're going to die. Strika, go and find Thundercracker and tell him to get his aft here immediately. Acid Storm I… don't really care about you, so just go away if you don't want to die.'

Obsidian finished and hovered away from the Nemesis as the vibrations increased. Strika merely jumped off the edge of the ship and landed on a roof-top below while Starscream and the others transformed. With no-one left on top of the ship, the Nemesis's quantum engines activated, and the ship was slingshot into the sky.

Starscream and Obsidian hovered side-by-side in the empty air as they watched the Nemesis leave the atmosphere.

'We failed.' Obsidian said, turning to face Starscream. 'I don't suppose you have a backup plan.'

But Starscream didn't reply. He activated his newly-repaired thrusters and shot himself into the opposite direction of the Nemesis, flying out into the Talonian wilderness, and away from the city's center.

Obsidian sighed, slowly descending as his internal repairs activated.