She awoke to darkness and suffocation.
Nothing but darkness. Nothing but emptiness. She felt as if she was flying, or blind, or a combination of the two, her mind buzzed, no air NO AIR NO AIR BLIND BLIND—
"I'd advise you to calm down," a monster snarled.
Panic gripped her. She couldn't feel her arm… nor feel the beat of her own heart.
"Here's a little something, my poor little creature," the monster continued in a nasal voice and she felt her entire body relax, her mind as well, as if a light had been turned off.
She tried to scream, but found she had no mouth.
"You can't talk unless I allow you to," the same voice chuckled. "Which I won't."
A light flickered on.
"I haven't touched this in ages," the hulking beast muttered. "You see, we have perfect vision in the dark… but I believe you already knew that."
Her eyes, although bleary, managed to focus on the light.
And the creature that stood over it.
"I don't see what Crashdive saw in you," Flatline muttered with a savage grin. "All I see is a defenceless little insect…"
Kaminari realised she was strapped down to a table. Whatever Flatline had injected her with, it seemed to dull both her shock and her fear. Almost content, she turned to look at the right arm which had been horribly removed…
It was there. But not as it should have been.
"He may be silent, but that 'con has plans. So I made some… modifications to your mutilated form."
Her arm had been replaced by one made of metal. It wasn't yet finished, with bits of circuitry and wires visible from the outside. The fingers were cruel and jagged, more claw-like than anything found on a human, while hot titanium muscles pumped with what she hoped was blood.
"Although I was reluctant at first to acquiesce to Crashdive's demands, changing that arm to fit your biological needs has proved most challenging," Flatline continued, his single optic gazing on her limp form. "Entertainingly challenging… a refresher from the amount of injured I get in here." He indicated to her left.
Kaminari turned her head and saw another Decepticon lying on an operating table. This one was unconscious and, from her distant, drugged memory, was named Fracture.
"She went up against Barricade again," Flatline sighed. "She's been in cahoots with Mindwipe for a while, for whatever reason…"
"W-What's going on?" Kaminari finally managed, wondering why she could breathe in space.
Flatline turned his menacing eye on her. She shivered as he inspected her flesh, before bending over and raising her chin with the end of a claw. He stared into her face, a twisted grin appearing.
"Oh, my poor, pathetic little insect," Flatline chuckled. "You don't realise it yet, do you? Don't worry, you will in time. You'll learn, up here, that when you enter the dark side of the moon, you'll never escape.
"Welcome to our side."
Episode 33: The Mother of All Monsters (Part 2)
Now there's a cloud over Heaven
And a pain out of Paradise
In your corner of the world
Turn your back on the children
Does it feel like it's colder?
In your corner of the world…
—Lock Up The Wolves
Arcee fell back into the mud, crying out as the scythe slashed down. She raised her small blade, which barely managed to deflect the blow, but sent the blade spinning out into the dark. Skyrender grinned as she scrambled through the mud, trying to get away. The young and fresh Seeker chased after her, whooping, swinging his scythe like a madman. Arcee kept backing away, using her smaller size and quick legs to keep out of reach of his weapon. Meanwhile, Crashdive and Overcast began inspecting the wreckage.
Bastards… Prowl…
"What a stupid weapon," she managed to hiss as the scythe missed her again.
Skyrender scowled. "Little sheep should shut the fuck up."
"A sickle would be much more suited to your type of fighting style," Arcee stalled, her arm changing into a gun. "Not that lumbering piece of shit."
Skyrender brought the scythe down, stabbing nothing but ground. Arcee saw her chance.
"However, you'd be able to beat anyone at range with that thing," she shouted, before charging him. "But up close…!"
She shot him in the chest as she closed in, dodging over a clumsy swipe, and punching him in the gut.
"BITCH!" the Seeker roared as he tried to turn his weapon on her. But thanks to the dimensions of the scythe, he couldn't hit her due to how close she was.
"First, the legs," she muttered. Although outsized and outgunned, Arcee had years of combat experience at taking down larger Decepticons. She shot him in the back of both legs, forcing him to his knees.
"Next, the head," she whispered, leaping onto his shoulders and pointing her weapon downwards at his head—
A missile exploded against her and she was thrown off Skyrender into the mud. She cried out, pain and fire flaring through her.
"You in trouble, kid?" Overcast asked.
Skyrender muttered a curse and lifted himself out of the mud on wobbly legs. He gripped his scythe firmly and fixed murderous eyes on Arcee's defenceless form.
"Little whore thinks she can beat a Seeker?" he grumbled as he descended on her. "Let's see you beat me without a face."
Arcee looked up to see the young Decepticon standing over her, scythe raised.
No… I'm… sorry…
Skyrender grinned.
A guttural cry sounded through the night. Skyrender turned to see the commotion. Arcee looked as well.
Optimus Prime had smashed into Overcast in his truck form, sending the Seeker veteran sprawling. Transforming, the leader of the Autobots bore down on the Decepticon, an axe and a sword at the ready.
"Help me, guys!" Overcast cried out in panic as he raised a mace to block Optimus's attack.
Skyrender obviously thought discretion was the better part of valour. Knowing he didn't stand a chance against the Prime, he shot into the air and transformed, heading straight for the nearest atmosphere. Although Crashdive wasn't as cowardly as his Decepticon acquaintance, he stepped back a bit, dragging an unconscious Prowl with him.
Overcast looked up at the vengeful Prime.
"Oh shit."
Optimus snapped the mace in half with an axe-blow, before driving the point of his sword through Overcast's arms, which had been moved to protect himself, before piercing the Seeker's chest and stabbing straight through his spark.
Overcast gave a little gasp of pain, before his optics blacked out and he slumped to his knees.
Optimus drew his sword out, allowing the Decepticon's corpse to fall into the mud.
From three-against-one, it had become one-against-two.
Crashdive stared at Optimus, unflinching in the wake of his most recent kill.
"Optimus!" Arcee called as she got shakily to her feet. "He has Prowl!"
Optimus stared at the unconscious cybertronian in confusion. His optics suddenly lit up in shock and realisation.
"I… I see," he uttered. He pointed his axe at Crashdive. "Let him go!" Optimus ordered.
Crashdive cocked a curious head to one side. He then slowly turned to look at his captive. He grinned.
Slowly, meticulously, he withdrew the huge scimitar from his back.
"Don't do anything stupid," Optimus commanded, his voice carrying through the dusk. "Leave him and we'll let you escape—"
Crashdive pushed Prowl in front of him, the Autobot dropping to his knees, still unaware of his surroundings.
Taking a step back, Crashdive then stabbed Prowl straight through the chest. The Autobot's corpse collapsed.
"NO!" Optimus roared, charging in, swinging his weapons. Arcee followed, limping, but enraged.
Crashdive stepped a few paces back, allowing Optimus to get closer.
"Be careful!" Arcee cried. "He's Dangerous!"
With a move as quick as lightning, Crashdive swiped his scimitar up and knocked the axe out of Optimus's grasp, sending it flying into the distance. The Prime responded by meeting sword with sword as the two titanic creatures fought a lethal duel.
Arcee realised she'd only be in the way if she got closer, so she kept her eyes on the treeline—
"Oh scrap," she whispered in horror.
Great beasts descended from the trees as a full moon shone down upon them all. Savage teeth and animal eyes bore down on the remaining Autobots.
"No…"
Rumble bellowed and charged her as Ravage and Buzzsaw slunk towards Optimus.
From the trees, Ratbat waited and watched.
"I-Is… is everyone okay?"
The voice was the only sound Marcus heard. It penetrated into the depths of his racked subconscious, tearing through the utter darkness to make sense within his tortured brain.
He opened bleary eyes, pain rippling through him.
People were moaning and shuffling throughout the crashed plane. The co-pilot was the one who had spoken, having appeared from the front of the plane. Marcus looked at his hands and saw they were covered in blood.
"We've crash-landed a few miles from Washington," the co-pilot announced. "Emergency services are no doubt on their way, but until then is there anyone with medical experience here?"
The HARP medics raised shaky hands, while Ryder picked himself up and stretched.
"Well, that was an unforeseeable detour," he muttered. "At least the pilot knew what he was doing."
Marcus checked his body for the wounds that bloodied his hands, but didn't find them.
Then he saw Stacy.
Her eyes were closed and blood was leaking from her head.
"STACY!"
"Quiet down," Ryder sighed. "Just wrap a couple of bandages around that noggin of hers. It's tougher than lead."
Marcus found himself getting angry as he did as instructed.
"And what about you?" he spat. "What are you going to do to help? Absolutely fucking nothing! Mr Cool Guy, smoking his way through every situation, never giving a rat's arse to help anyone but himself! You're just like Sixshot! Nothing more than your common jerk of an ASSHOLE!"
Behind the shades, Ryder narrowed his eyes.
"Call me what you want, but don't compare me to Sixshot. Don't. Trust is a delicate thing, Marcus; you show too much of it, you'll lose it. You show too little, you'll never get any. I won't help people because that would teach people to trust me; you really shouldn't. I'm the wild card. So, Marcus, I think I'll take leave of you two for now. Until we meet again."
He then turned and left the crashed plane. Marcus, dumbfounded, stared after him.
And Ryder left.
"Sherpa?"
"Yes, sir."
"If your child was in danger, how far would you go to try and save her?"
"…Honestly, sir?"
"Honestly."
"As far as possible. There's nothing more precious in this world than a child of one's own."
Callahan nodded, although he felt destroyed inside. He knew what he had to do.
"Sherpa?"
The Secret Service bodyguard repeated; "Yes, sir."
Callahan scrawled something on a note. With Mason and Cole gone, there was no need to sugar-coat it.
He tore the note from a pad and held it up. It read;
I BELIEVE THE ROOM IS BUGGED. THE DECEPTICONS HAVE MY DAUGHTER AND THEY'RE BLACKMAILING ME TO DESTROY THE AUTOBOTS.
If Sherpa was surprised, he hid it well behind his shades.
Another quickly scribbled note read;
THEY'RE NOT GETTING SHIT. THE VICE-PRESIDENT'S IN THEIR POCKET AND WHO KNOWS ELSE; YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE I CAN TRUST. FIND MY DAUGHTER AND KILL WHOEVER'S HOLDING HER.
Sherpa nodded and, without a hint of hesitation, headed for the door to complete his mission.
But Callahan wasn't just going to let others do the work for him. He knew there was one thing he could do in his own home.
Clear out the squatters.
He contacted his secretary through his phone.
"Barbara? Bring in the Vice-President. And make sure that there are some Secret Service outside the office."
Optimus roared as lasers tore through his arm. He faced off against three opponents and was beginning to realise that he couldn't win.
Meanwhile, Arcee fled from Rumble. She twisted through the wreckage, leaping through destroyed decks, dodging past devastated trees. Rumble smashed through them all, uncaring in what he destroyed, intent on chasing down Arcee and crushing her to pieces beneath his pounding feet.
Arcee realised that she would never outrun the rhino; he was just too quick and too strong.
"Primus, watch over me," she whispered, before turning to meet her fate.
Seeing her halt, Rumble picked up speed. He bent his head down, sharp horns ready to skewer her like dead meat.
At the last second before impact, Arcee leapt into the air, allowing Rumble to charge beneath her, before dropping to land on his back. Rumble roared and bucked, trying to throw the clingy Autobot from his back, but Arcee held on, resolute, her blaster at the ready.
Realising her plan, Ratbat dropped from his tree and glided towards them, letting out a deafening shriek. Arcee cried out as her audio receptors were fried, before turning painfully to the job at hand. Pointing the blaster down at the top of Rumble's head, Arcee fired two shots, splitting apart the armour but failing to penetrate.
"DIE DAMN YOU!" Arcee cried as Ratbat bore down on her and Rumble bucked as hard as he could.
At the last second before Ratbat's talons could rend her, Arcee leapt from Rumble's back to smack into the mud for the umpteenth time that day.
Rumble continued to buck blindly, oblivious in his rage, but Ratbat turned and shot straight for Arcee, screeching as he did so.
"Come on then, you flying shit," Arcee hissed, readying her blaster.
Ratbat descended upon her, but at the last moment flew upwards, straight over the Autobot. Arcee turned, furious.
"COME BACK HERE!" she roared after the beast.
But she heard a low grumble behind her. Realisation gripped her.
Rumble charged.
Arcee ran, scanning the ground as she did so. She was running out of energy and knew the killing blow would arrive soon for one of them. As Rumble came in close, she saw what she was looking for.
Her serrated blade stuck out of the mud, gleaming in the moonlight.
She ran towards it, crying out in pain for her injuries, Rumble almost breathing down her neck.
She grasped the blade in one hand just as Rumble smashed into her.
His horns penetrated her back, spearing her into the air. She screamed as she was lifted up, up into air. She twisted as she began to fall, looking down at what awaited her.
Rumble looked up, his horns glistening with pure malice.
Her pain-wracked screams turning into fury-filled roars, she fell like a lightning bolt, her blade carving through the wind itself. Rumble saw it coming, far too late.
The sword pierced the weakened armour of Rumble's head, the blade cutting straight through his brain and mouth, out the other side. Arcee smashed into the ground, spent and broken.
Slowly, almost mournfully, Rumble keeled over onto his side, dead.
Arcee tried to sit up, knowing that Ratbat's finishing move would be next, and she wouldn't go down without a fight.
But the resultant blow never came. Arcee looked around, looking for the winged fiend, but not seeing it.
She turned her head to Optimus's battle.
Ravage, the cat-like beast of Soundwave's retinue, was dead. Optimus had crushed him with a well-planned footfall, his shattered corpse all over the place. Although he had been brought back to life before, he wouldn't again.
But the fight was not going Optimus's way. Buzzsaw was nailing hit-and-run attacks on Optimus's head while Crashdive beat him back with his huge sword. Along the way, Optimus had reclaimed his axe, but it was proving useless against Crashdive's relentless assault.
But there was nothing left she could do.
Optimus… please… finish him…
She slipped into stasis lock, hoping she wouldn't end up like Prowl.
"Skywarp was here," Thundercracker uttered. "He always leaves that stinking trail of bluorescent vapours. That idiot really needs to clear out his vents."
Starscream studied the Martian rocks. His cunning optics appraised the situation and the wreckage of days long ago.
Skywarp wasn't the only one here… he and the hatchlings weren't alone…
"Contact Overcast," Starscream ordered. "I want him and that little runt he goes around with to comb this area. I've had enough nostalgia for one day."
As Thundercracker made the call, Starscream inspected some of the wreckage and rubble of the long ago past.
Times were simpler then. Back when traitors acted out of nothing but ideals.
Now? Now the very face of war has changed. No more grand battles on global scales… instead it's nothing more than a game in the shadows and everyone's a mere player in this game…
"I can't raise him," Thundercracker called. "Wherever he is, he's not on the moon."
I told him to wait there! Starscream fumed inwardly. "Pathetic! What about Crashdive?"
Thundercracker looked at his boss with a rather uncertain look; in-between a glance that asked his commander how he expected to talk to a mute and a glance that wouldn't have him executed for insubordination.
"Oh yeah…" Starscream muttered, making a mental note to hit himself later.
The two oldest Seekers stared up at the sun.
"This is getting old…" the commander said. "Skywarp and the hatchlings are gone for good, probably with Soundwave unless he's dead. Our own soldiers are disappearing left and right… and you."
"Me sir?" Thundercracker asked, surprised.
"Yes, you. The only Decepticon who's actually loyal. Any of the grunts would flee if they felt like it, Shockwave I wouldn't trust with a spoon and Megatron is the biggest hypocrite in the galaxy."
Thundercracker pondered for a second. "Barricade, sir."
"What?"
"Barricade is loyal too. Just not to you."
Starscream roared and fired a missile into the Martian horizon. It spun wildly through the air for a few seconds, the Decepticons watching it go, before it smashed into the ground with a trembling explosion.
"TWO DECEPTICONS!" Starscream roared at no-one in particular. "JUST TWO IN THE ENTIRE GALAXY! DO THE AUTOBOTS HAVE THIS KIND OF FOOLISHNESS? DO THE HUMANS? WHY US? WHY IS IT US THAT ARE SADDLED WITH THE BLIND, PSYCHOTIC, FOOLISH, STUPID AND TREACHEROUS? WHY?"
He sat down in the dust, utterly demoralised.
"I believed in something once," he muttered. "Something great and unified. I was foolish and arrogant back then, but I saw a Cybertron united under that Allspark. I guess… I guess I was greedy like all the rest, hungry for power and control… now? Now I just wish to see my home again. To see Cybertron and its sun…
"I think that might have been what Dreadwing was going for all along. He wanted a real Cybertron with a real Allspark. Not some cheap imitation. In the end, deep down, I think he did what he did for others, not himself. And I… I should have seen that…"
Thundercracker grunted. Starscream looked up.
"Sir, with all due respect," the lieutenant said. "You're an idiot."
Starscream narrowed his optics.
"Dreadwing tried to grasp power when he was nothing more than a soldier. He failed due to one thing; himself. You can doubt yourself or your actions, but what's done is done. He did what he had to do… and you did what you had to do. You might believe in struggle, or in unity, or in Cybertron or whatever you wish, but one thing remains constant; the strongest, the smartest and, above all, the most loyal will always succeed. I have succeeded so far under you, succeeded in surviving the early stages of the war, succeeded in surviving Dreadwing's rebellion, succeeded in avoiding death where everyone else failed, succeeded in resurrecting you all and have succeeded in making it this far. You can have ambition, you can have power, you can have vision; but I've said it before and I'll say it again; even the common soldier can succeed.
"And, to prove it to you once and for all, I will be the one to kill Optimus Prime. And I will succeed."
Vice-President of the United States Thomas Chaplow pushed open the door to the Oval Office, walking by the two Secret Service bodyguards behind him. Callahan sat at the desk, chin resting on hands, elbows resting on wood. Chaplow squinted as he pushed the door shut.
"You wanted to see me, Edward?"
Callahan said nothing, content to simply stare his subordinate out. Chaplow blinked nervously.
"Anything wrong, sir?" Chaplow added.
"When did the Decepticons buy you?"
So Laserbeak did tell him… hmph.
"A while back," the Vice-President replied with a small smile. "Sorry, Ed, nothing personal; just business."
"How could you betray our own country, Tom?" Callahan asked, disappointment written all over his face. "How could you betray the very people themselves?"
"That's the thing, Ed, you always thought the people in this land were American people. I see it in a different way," Chaplow announced. "Once the Decepticons are in charge, borders won't matter anymore; it won't just be America ruled by one man… it'll be the whole world. We will all be unified under a common banner, to help shepherd the people into the new age."
Callahan narrowed his eyes. "At the price of my daughter?"
"No; at the price of the Autobots. Their lives don't outweigh the lives of the people. They don't even outweigh the life of your kin."
There was a tense silence.
"I agree," Callahan said at last. "But, in the end, no life is indispensable, save the one that was always meant to be indispensable; mine."
Chaplow raised his eyebrows. "No need to be so dramatic; you don't have the guts for suicide and, besides, that would put me in charge. In reality, all you have left is that choice; your only child, or the aliens."
Edward nodded slowly, before standing and opening a drawer in his desk. "You're right; I must go with either option A or option B…"
He drew a gun out of the drawer and pointed it at Chaplow's chest.
"But, as I said, no life is indispensable… except maybe yours and most definitely mine. So I choose option C."
Chaplow's eyes widened. "You… you idiot; if you kill me, the Decepticons will most certainly kill Cassandra!"
"I doubt it; as long as I actually kill the Autobots, I doubt they'll miss just another insect."
Chaplow began to sweat. He realised he was on thin ice.
"Do you think I'm really the only agent in the White House?" he fearfully asked. "You kill me, another weed grows."
"Let them grow; you'll be the one rotting in the compost."
Chaplow finally gave in. "What do you want?"
"Just one thing; confirmation that my daughter is really alive. There wasn't a sign of a struggle anywhere near here; so my daughter must have been tricked into being taken. The only one I taught her to fully trust outside of the family was you… you of all people. You were the one who kidnapped her. Tell me where she is and I won't touch a hair on your head."
Chaplow stared at the gun. He stared at Callahan. There was no remorse behind the President's eyes.
"A warehouse on the Potomac, down in the south; B-17834. She's alive and in good health; but I know this room is bugged so if you tell anyone, Laserbeak will break her pretty little neck. You now have no choice but to kill the Autobots. Stick true to your word and let me go."
Callahan considered this for a second. He reached for the phone on his desk.
"Sherpa, did you get all that?"
"Yes sir. I'll be there in five."
The phone disconnected.
Chaplow stared at Callahan, shocked.
"You left me with an impossible choice; I would never kill the ones who have saved our lives so many times and I would never allow any one close to me to die. So this is option C."
He tossed the gun to Chaplow, who caught it in surprise.
"But, despite that, I failed to make the choice. You're right; I may have doomed my daughter to die or I may have doomed many others. For that, I don't deserve to be President."
Callahan drew a second gun out of his jacket.
"But, then again, neither do you."
Without a second's hesitation, Callahan turned the gun on himself and shot himself through the chest.
The bang echoed around the small room, startling Chaplow, who was too shocked to do anything but turn to stone. He stared, stunned.
The Secret Service bodyguards who had been outside the office burst in, guns drawn.
They saw their President, bleeding to death on the floor.
And they saw Thomas Chaplow with a gun.
"No, it's not—!"
But they had been trained to neutralise threats as quickly and efficiently as possible, not to facilitate pleas for reason. Several more shots rang out through the White House.
As Chaplow's corpse his the carpet, Edward Callahan whispered his final words;
"Denise… Cassie… I'll watch… I'll see…"
And as Laserbeak raced Sherpa to B-17834, the leader of the Free World bled to death.