Starscream slammed his fist against the control panel, trembling in frustration. 'No you stupid, stupid idiot! I am offering Bludgeon the Nemesis—the-freaking-Nemesis!' He began counting the additions on his hands. 'That's the unstoppable flagship of the Decepticon Army, my crew, including famed generals and strategists: Obsidian, Strika, and Slipstream, and most importantly, me! You have no good reason to refuse!'

The Nemesis floated harmlessly outside Theophany's atmosphere. A ring of orbiting railguns encircled the planet, set to fire in case Starscream were to do anything risky. Projected on the Nemesis's front view-screen was Cannonball, arms crossed, and sneering impetuously. 'Again, no. You're not entering our fold.'

Starscream was losing his patience. He expected feigning allegiance to be a tricky feat, but actually infiltrating his ranks? That was proving to be more difficult than he surmised. 'Why the hell not? It's not like I'm asking to be paid, unlike you. All I want is to form an alliance for a mutual beneficial outcome. So please, Captain, explain to me why you refuse to introduce Bludgeon about me?'

Cannonball leaned back in his chair, examining the famed seeker through a cracked visor. 'Because you're Starscream, obviously.'

Starscream didn't believe he understood. Or at least, he didn't believe Cannonball could have been so naïve. Or was he too smart for his worth? Either way. 'And what is that supposed to mean?'

'It means you're…' he moved his hands meticulously, as if trying to properly define a word that is otherwise impossible to define without better, more complex words. 'Y'know, Starscream. The traitor, the opportunist, the jerk.'

Starscream blinked. 'Well now how's that supposed to make me feel?' The Seeker brought a digit to the bridge of his nose and massaged it carefully. 'Here's something—have we ever met before, Cannonball? Of course not, because you rely on the words of gossip and misinformation to form your opinions on people.' He lowered his face towards the screen to make himself clear. 'I have never betrayed the Decepticon cause. Ever. I've criticised Megatron's more contradictive ideologies, yes, and I've out-smarted several Autobots and Decepticons into supporting our cause – sometimes against their free will – and yes, perhaps I am rough around the edges, charmingly so. But I would never betray my cause.' He watched as Cannonball brought a hand to his chin and grinned. 'But sure, go ahead. Turn Bludgeon's recruitment process into a popularity contest. I'm sure he won't mind at all once he finds out that he could have had Aerospace Commander Starscream by his side in the coming conflict. But no! Why take one of the most esteemed military leaders of our time when they're – dare I say it – a "jerk"?' He made a pair of finger-quotes to accentuate his point. Sooner or later, Cannonball had to break.

Cannonball considered this. For a moment, the pirate began hovering his servo over some sort of switch or console off-screen. He stopped himself and grinned. 'Oh, I see what's going on.' He chuckled, returning his servo to his chest. 'You almost had me there, Screamer, but, heh, the great Captain Cannonball is not so easily fooled!'

Starscream's optical lids lowered. 'Do you always like to pretend that you know more than your tiny brain is capable of, or is this just one of those days?'

'You're playing your famous Starscream-sweet talking game, and it almost worked, I'll give you that.' He laughed again. 'I commend you for the effort— but nah. Nice try, but you're still not getting in.'

Starscream leaned back his head, venting heavier and heavier with each breath. Finally, he shrieked. 'YOU SINGLE-MINDED PIECE OF PLEBIAN—'

Obsidian, Strika, Thundercracker, and Slipstream sat in a circle around Starscream's makeshift desk. They were told to wait outside as he dealt with the planet's orbital garrison via his "tactical charm". The four had in turn dealt each other a set of playing cards to pass the time.

Strika stared at the door to the Captain's office as Starscream's voice shrieked a train curses. She already cared little for the game at hand, and Starscream losing his cool was a far greater source of entertainment for the Admiral. 'He sounds mad.' She said, finally. 'Think we should do something?'

Thundercracker placed down a card, his expression as stone-cold as ever. 'He'll get over himself in a minute or two. He always does.'

Slipstream placed a card down sideways. 'I summon Aggravated Celtic Guardian in defense mode.'

Thundercracker massaged the bridge of his nose. 'For the eleventh time, Slipstream, we're playing Praxus Fold'em. Not Yu-Gi-Oh, or whatever article it is you read on Wikipedia last night. Besides, you just played an ace of diamonds.'

'Oh,' Slipstream gathered her card once more and began sorting them in her hand aimlessly.

Strika jabbed a brick-like finger at Slipstream. 'Hey! You can't take that back, that's cheating! You're cheating!' She turned to Obsidian for support. 'Obsidian, tell Slipstream she's cheating.'

'Stop cheating, Slipstream.' Obsidian sat in his chair, perfectly relaxed. 'Not that it matters much, anyway.' His voice sang in rare content. 'Slipstream's mind isn't what you'd call a threatening adversary in this game of wits.' He chuckled. 'Of course, it doesn't take a genius to see that.'

Thundercracker eyed Obsidian's cards carefully. He placed one of his own cards down in front of him. 'You seem confident.'

Obsidian blinked in faux-shock. 'Do I? Funny. It's as if I'm already a master at this game.'

'I digi-volve Agumon into Wargreymon!' Slipstream exclaimed, slamming another card against the table.

'I can't begin to tell you how wrong that is,' Thundercracker mumbled, staring at his cards.

Strika raised a single digit towards the Seeker, staring at her as if she were embarrassed by the whole ordeal. 'Yeah, it's not your turn. And it's Greymon that digi-volves into Wargreymon. Fool!'

'Oh,' Slipstream said.

'As I said, Slipstream's stupidity is of no consequence.' Obsidian began laying down his cards. 'I don't mean to sound like Starscream – believe me, I don't – but as the most acclaimed strategist and mathematician of the Decepticons, I can tell you right now with 99.78% certainty that I am going to win.'

'He has a point,' Strika said, staring at her cards. 'I've never beaten him in cards. Granted, he's never beaten me in arm-wrestling, but hey, nobody's perfect.' She shrugged.

Thundercracker sighed, and turned to Slipstream, half-smiling. 'I guess this means we never stood a chance, eh?'

She lifted another card from her hand. 'I summon—.' But Thundercracker had already grabbed her by the wrist, slowly lowering the card back into her hand, head shaking.

'Indeed,' Obsidian grinned. 'How many games have I gone without losing, Strika? 1,897,838, was it?'

She let out a rumbling growl.

'How about we make this number 1,897,839, yes?'

'How about you die?'

Obsidian chuckled to himself as Strika slammed her cards on the table.

'That's it,' she declared. 'I pass.'

'Of course you do.' Obsidian scanned the table. All that was left was Slipstream, sitting across from him.

Thundercracker gently elbowed her in the rib. 'Okay, idiot. Now you can summon… Super Palutena—or whoever you have in mind.'

Slipstream nodded. 'O-kay. I summon…' she set down her entire hand. 'A full run.'

The three other Decepticons stared at her, then at the cards, then back to her. Set neatly on the table, were the perfectly alphabetised cards required to pull off the perfect hand in the game. From 2-to-ace, Slipstream had won. Strika and Thundercracker stared, dumbfounded.

Obsidian merely blinked. 'Ah. You cheated.'

She laughed, and looked at Thundercracker while pointing at Obsidian. 'The floating snake thinks I'm a cheetah.'

Thundercracker shook his head, wide-eyed. 'Obsidian—I'd have said the same thing, really. But I've been able to see her hand since the very beginning. Granted, I didn't actually pay attention to what she had in her hand, but I didn't see her do anything considered cheating, believe it or not.'

Slipstream gaped at the blue Seeker. 'You filthy cheetah!'

Strika nodded in agreement, but was no less shocked. 'Obsidian… I think Slipstream just won.'

Obsidian shook his head. He rose a trembling servo to his face. 'No. That's impossible—improbable, to be generous. I calculated the position of every possible card order within that deck. The possibility of her receiving that hand is—it's…'

'More than zero percent, though, yeah?' Strika let out a roaring guffaw, content to see her partner in such a state. 'Either you miscalculated—'

Obsidian was quick to take offense. 'I did not.'

'—or Slipstream just ended your 1,897,839 win-streak by accident.'

Thundercracker allowed himself to chuckle softly, engrossed in Obsidian's misfortune. Slipstream, who didn't know what was so funny laughed robotically alongside of them, hoping to at least appear included.

Obsidian would have jumped to his feet, should he have had feet. He elevated out of the chair, slamming his slimy fingers against the table, sending the cards jumping into the air for a millisecond. 'NO!' His voice croaked. If his age hadn't shown before, then it certainly did now. His voice sounded suffocated, and his joints practically creaked as they shook with rage and disbelief. 'My strategies are flawless—FLAWLESS! I've won millions of battles in the name of Cybertron—billions! I did not just lose a game of cards to this—this handicapped!'

Strika continued to laugh. She loved it when Obsidian lost his composure. It was cute. Thundercracker found a sick pleasure in it too, but he knew to be cautious. The Seeker raised the palm of his hand towards the strategist, holding in his laughter. 'Calm down, Obsidian, it's just a game.'

'This has to be some kind of trick I—,' he darted his head around, looking for a sign of a solution. 'Full-Tilt! Full-Tilt, you crazy jester! This is another illusion, isn't it? Another stream between dimensions! It has to be! Come out, Full-Tilt! Come out and explain how I was the winner!'

'Obsidian, I don't think—'

He turned back to Slipstream, wide-eyed. 'Oh, of course, now I see.' He leaned across the table and narrowed his eyes at the Seeker. 'It's all a ruse, isn't it? You're just pretending to be stupid so you could get the drop on me. Come on, it's alright to say. You're really a genius, aren't you?'

Slipstream shrugged, and stuck out her tongue, drooping her head to the side. 'I am a genius.'

'Yes!'

'I tricked you so that I could steal all your life-points and become a digi-destined.'

'No!'

She scratched the side of her head, and a piece of brain-matter fell out. 'You just sailed down the slipstream on my ruse-cruse.'

Strika immediately reached over the table and high-fived the Seeker.

Obsidian grabbed either side of his head and roared, his aged voice cracking. 'THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE! NONE OF THIS MAKES ANY SENSE!'

Strika patted Slipstream on the back. 'That should be your catchphrase from now on!'

Slipstream nodded. 'Yeah, "you should sip steam down the loose-moose".'

'I don't think that's what you said,' Thundercracker corrected.

'Eat beans in the deuce-goose.'

Strika roared with laughter. 'Whoa! It's getting cooler each time you say it!'

'You're idiots.' Thundercracker said matter-of-factly, leaning back in his chair and sipping from his glass of Energon.

'Except for me!' Obsidian injected himself back into the center of attention. 'I'm not an idiot! I have proof that I'm not an idiot. Losing a card game to an idiot doesn't make me an idiot? Right?'

Thundercracker scowled at the strategist. 'If you're not an idiot, then you're at least acting like a maniac for taking this whole event so seriously.'

Obsidian opened his maw to reply, but quickly stopped himself. His body returned to its typically lax state, and his optics dimmed. 'I—you're right. I don't know what came over me.' The strategist dipped his head back and sighed. 'Clearly there's another solution to this predicament.'

Obsidian hovered away, slowly from his chair, and reached into his belt. As slow as before, he pulled out a dark-green knife, raised it parallel to his face, and once again, slowly hovered towards Slipstream.

The joke over, Strika jumped out of her seat, thrusted her arms under Obsidian's armpits, and swung her lower arms back until her wrists pressed against his shoulders. The much larger Decepticon's strength alone clamped Obsidian down, and restricted him from moving no matter how hard he struggled. Thundercracker in turn, stepped in front of Slipstream, ensuring Obsidian didn't cause her any moreharm he'd have to inevitably fix.

'Let me go, Strika! I need to make an example!'

'You're not killing Slipstream just because she beat you at cards.' Thundercracker assured.

'No, no. I'm only going to stab myself. That way I'll have a constant reminder of my failure. Of my first failure in centuries!'

Strika's grip tightened. 'That's nowhere near better, and you know I'm not okay with that.'

Obsidian dropped the knife. 'Fine! No stabbing, now release me!'

Strika did, and the strategist quickly slithered away, moving swiftly towards the corridor.

Starscream came out of his office, just as Obsidian hovered by. A look of acceptance crossed his face, mixed with disappointed, his eyes lit up when he spotted his strategist. 'Ah, Obsidian. Turns out Cannonball's an idiot and I need ideas. I'll be willing to listen in case you have any you'd be willing to share.' He looked over at the others, spotting the tossed cards on the table. 'I see you decided to play some Praxus Hold'em while I was busy.'

Obsidian twirled around, and grabbed Starscream by the shoulders, shaking him violently. 'WE DECIDED TO PLAY A LIE, STARSCREAM! We decided to play with a monument to compromise!' He flung his servos in the air, wildly. 'Frag 'em. Frag you people. Frag this whole thing, Starscream!' He hovered along, exiting into the bridge, and disappearing out of sight.

Dumbfounded, Starscream turned to the others, blinking at them through bulging optics. 'What. Is. His. Problem?'

'Aye…' Strika wandered over towards Starscream, scratching the back of her head tiredly, and staring down the open hallway of which her consort had left. 'Sorry about that. Obsidian's always been a sore loser. He'll get over it soon.'

Starscream followed her gaze, arching his lip in poisonously. 'How soon?'

'An hour at the least.'

'At the least.' Starscream's shoulder's sunk and his posture went slack. 'If an hour is the least, then dare I ask how long I might have to wait at the most?'

'Depends.' Strika said, refusing to make eye-contact. 'Last time this happened he was broody for a good century. Considering the circumstances…' she hummed, 'could be a week. Could be a few weeks—a month, even.' She turned her head aside and muttered. 'Could be never…'

'Never.' He flung his arms into the air. 'Sure, why not?!' He brought one servo down and pointed it at Strika. 'Then until that floating freak gets his act together, I officially promote you, Admiral Strika, to second-in-command of Starscream's Brigade.'

'Sweet.' She prepared a fist-pump, but stopped mid-way. Instead, she raised an incredulous brow at the Commander. 'Wait, I thought Obsidian and I were equal rank. Are you saying I was third-in-command this entire time?'

'No.' Starscream said, looking up at her half-smiling. 'Thundercracker was third in command. You're fourth.'

Strika's brow creased as she loomed over Starscream. Her intimidation tactics were a force of habit at this point. Were she trying to intimidate or not, Strika tended to make herself look as big as possible whenever she was angry, and she was damn big already. 'There were only four of us to begin with!'

'Exactly!' Starscream turned around, and made his way towards the nearest monitor display. 'Now, on to the task at hand. I'm afraid they're not letting us past their orbital defenses. As Obsidian is being a little dipstick, and Thundercracker is worthless— I'm seeking your council, Strika.' He looked over his shoulder, eyeing Strika expectantly. 'So, what do you suggest?'

She shrugged. 'Destroy their defenses and drive straight through.'

Thundercracker showed his palms to the two hesitantly. 'Or we could try something a little less suicidal.'

Slipstream edged towards her fellow seeker, grinning manically and whispering into his audio-receptor. 'You're worthless! You're worthless!'

'What's wrong with that?' Strika glared down at Thundercracker like he were a pet that was misbehaving. 'If we can't use words, and we can't sneak past without being detected, then we push through. Make them accept us.'

'And if they don't accept us?'

She stared at him as if the answer were obvious. 'Then we kill them all. Don't take me for an idiot, Thundercracker, I'm not one. Sure, me suggesting that we charge guns-blazing plays along with the big, tough-girl cliché…' she looked up at Starscream. 'But I knowwe're all full of surprises—take it from words of experience, I've won a hell of a lot of battles through brute strength alone. Sometimes muscle comes over mind. Sometimes a preemptive strike is all you need. Sometimes, examples have to be made.'

Starscream nodded thoughtfully. 'Indeed.' He placed his servos against the console, and tapped a set of commands into the Nemesis.

'I just hope you both know what you're doing.' Thundercracker said. 'But what do I know? I'm worthless.'

Slipstream cackled to herself, muttering the word worthless over and over, mockingly.

'Indeed.' Starscream repeated himself in the same tone of voice as before.

When no one paid him any attention, Thundercracker sighed. 'Can I at least request permission to ask Obsidian for his opinion?'

'Denied.'

'Why?'

'Because you'll be too busy holding on to something.'

'What? Why would I do that?'

Starscream turned around, wearing a wide smile that spelled out how pleased he was with himself. 'Because I just set the Nemesis to fire its entire payload at Bludgeon's orbital defenses.'

On cue, the ship shot forward as its engines roared ablaze. Firing and gunning madly for the planet, metal and explosions rippled across the flagship's frame as it pressed through. It stomached a wall of debris before entering the planet's atmosphere, firing its last remaining missiles in the process. The blackness of space had soon brightened into a bright blue sky as the Nemesis escaped the railgun's fire.

Thundercracker and the others were unfortunately flung across the ship, face planting into the front-window like bugs on a wind-shield. Starscream had conveniently jettisoned himself, flying alongside the ship, free of dents or bruises. The city could be seen from below, glinting like a shard of crystal sticking out of a crack in the desert plain.

'Now comes the hard part.' Starscream said to himself. 'Now comes diplomacy.'

Krok stood at the foot of Bludgeon's "throne". Really, it was just a platform of which Bludgeon would squat upon for when he felt like polishing his blade or meditating when he had the chance. At this point, it appeared to be both. Krok cleared his throat to announce his presence.

Bludgeon remained fixated on his blade. 'Tell me he's dead.'

'He's dead...' Though Bludgeon was aware that he was lying, Krok thought it best to do as he was told anyway. 'Seriously though, I'm afraid we hit another roadblock.'

The commander let out a sickly groan. 'What now?'

'I did as you asked and sent my team to intercept, but…'

'"But"? Please, Krok. I know you said your team was incompetent, but surely they couldn't have failed in simple observatory work.' He raised his head. 'I trust your leadership abilities too much to believe that.'

Krok tilted his head to the side. 'Unfortunately, this was not the case. My team observed the Ark just as it made planet-fall towards a heavily fortified Autobot stronghold. The one we've been trying to stay on good terms with, to be exact.'

Bludgeon nodded regretfully. 'Ahh… "Team Elita"'s domain. That's disappointing. I was almost certain they'd uphold our truce. You know, they really did seem like the kind of reasonable people who'd accept peace over war.'

'Autobots will be Autobots,' Krok shrugged.

'True.' Bludgeon stood up, returning his blade to his hip. 'Keep your team positioned for now. I'd like to keep the peace for a little while longer. After all, it's not like Prime can stay holed up in there forever.'

'And if they do?'

Bludgeon blinked, as if the answer to Krok's question was obvious. 'If they're still in there within another 24 hours, then we flay the esteemed Team Elita, and take back our prize.'

Krok bowed his head. 'Understood. I'll inform the others to remain on standby until further notice.'

As Bludgeon's second in command turned around to leave, he felt a cool hand slap his shoulder.

'Wait,' Bludgeon said, gripping down on Krok's armoured plating. 'I want to show you something.' The Decepticon raised his hand above his head and snapped his fingers. The wide, cylindrical room began to split apart. Panels shifting and lowering, revealing a wider, glass dome that contained the room within. As the walls disappeared, Krok found himself exposed to the scenery surrounding the citadel. From where they stood, it was as if they were floating high above the city's landscape, bearing witness to the remains from the highest point on the planet. The Crystal City's mile high skyscrapers and destroyed architecture seemed to stretch out forever, like a large scar zigzagging across the planet's surface.

Bludgeon slapped Krok on the shoulder once again. 'Beautiful, isn't it?'

'It is,' Krok said, considering each word, trying to avoid giving the wrong answer.

This time, Bludgeon slapped him in the back of the head. Krok took the punishment in silence; he knew to accept anything Bludgeon inflicted upon him. Any sign of rebellion would be considered "treason," after all.

'Of course not, idiot. I was testing you, and you failed.' He strode across the platform, reaching the edge of the glass dome, and staring out towards the horizon. 'This city is in ruins—demolished beyond its former brilliance.' He shook his fists towards the disaster displayed in front of him. 'There was an artistic masterpiece strewn across this very spot a mere couple of months ago, and yet someone had the… the nerve to soil it!' He shook his head. 'I told Dai Atlas that this would happen… I respected him like I would any guardian, but I always told him, and I always knew, that he'd fail this city.'

Krok wandered towards him, taking his side as he viewed the city. He managed to catch the hint of a scowl under Bludgeon's torn-up face.

'He was literally too good for the world. He became Lieutenant Commander of the Autobots and surely could have become their leader, that is, until he saw the greater value of this city. He turned this place into a utopia, as it was always meant to be, but when he refused to accept military support… I knew that the moment some Autobot or Decepticon decided they wanted the city for themselves, Dai Atlas would crumble. He was such…' He raised a boney hand to his face, and began prodding the hanging wires that escaped his maw, '…an idiot. The Primal Pentateuch clearly defined power as its central theme—that it is our duty as Cybertronians to exercise our power upon anyone who defies Primus' will. To continue to grow to our fullest potential, and to protect the city of the Primes as a collective! Not to defend it in the name of friendship or whatever nonsense Atlas came up with when it was his time. That's just stupid.'

'Of course.' Krok took another step closer to his leader. 'Your future beckons true peace for Cybertronians.'

Bludgeon nodded, pleased by how his subordinate appeared to understand. 'Indeed.' He turned to the city once again. 'While I mourn the death of Atlas—if he really is dead, that is – the destruction of this city and the disappearance of the Circle of Light doesopen up some grand possibilities for me.'

'And once you kill the Prime…'

'Then by my unquestionable leadership, I can turn the entire Decepticon army into the Crystal City's new guard. An entire work-force tasked with guarding and re-building the City from scratch. With the rest of this inferior Galaxy left for the Autobots, I imagine our war would end soon after. Dai Atlas's Utopia will be fully realized, only this time, should the Autobots attack, we will be ready.'

Krok chuckled quietly. 'This is why I follow you, Lord Bludgeon.'

Bludgeon placed a gentle servo on Krok's shoulder. 'I like you Krok. You're loyal. If only others could be like you...'

'You mean Gutcruncher?'

'Oh I'm sure he's calculating the prices of my knee joints as we speak. But it's Banzaitron who I expect to crack first. He thinks I'm an idiot.' He tapped the side of his helm knowingly. 'But I know a mask when I see one. I could tell his faith was fake the moment he walked through my doors.'

'Then what do you recommend?'

'Nothing yet. Outside of Cannonball's pirates, we're awfully low in numbers.' He stopped to examine his blade once more. 'We can't make examples of all of them, after all.' He tilted his head. 'Still. Even if they did try to pull something against me, the odds are completely out of their favour. The only possible way for them to overcome us is if they had—.'

A loud crash exploded from outside the tower's walls. Without a word, Bludgeon transformed into his heavily armed, tank-mode and began accelerating out of his quarters. Krok followed, transforming into his stealth-jet form, and flying over-head. Bludgeon rushed out into the corridor, and towards the balcony. Disregarding the safety rail, he drove off the side of the Citadel, transforming mid-air, and plummeting towards the base below. Sticking out his sword, Bludgeon stuck it deep into the tower's outer wall, said a prayer, and slowed his descent until he was close enough to the ground that he could direct his fall without injury. He withdrew his blade, and transformed again, landing on his treads and boosting towards the plume of smoke rising above the city's landscape.

Not again. Bludgeon thought to himself. Please, not another attack. We're not ready yet. Please don't let them attack again now. He found the source of the sound at the city's rim. Cannonball's team, and to a lesser extent, Krok's, surrounded it, aiming their weaponry at it suspiciously. It was a Nemesis-class warship, banged up and scarred, but it had evidently survived worse. But there is only one in existence… Bludgeon recalled. Who the hell could possibly be in charge of THAT?

He had his answer soon enough, as a sleek tri-jet descended from the sky. Limbs sprouted, and parts tucked away as Aerospace Commander Starscream made his graceful landing at the nose of the ship.

Of course.

'Hello!' Starscream laughed. 'It seems our invitation got lost in the mail!' Several guns were aimed at the Seeker's face, though they seemed to amuse him more than intimidate him like they were supposed to. 'No worries—we let ourselves in!'

A large, armed satellite appeared in the distance, plummeting towards the ground in a trail of smoke. The railgun unit spun in the air, firing aimlessly before crashing and burning in a large fireball behind the Nemesis. It was the effect Starscream was going for, no doubt.

While it caught the attention of the others, Bludgeon's was directed towards a shifting hatch from the Nemesis' cockpit. It bolted open, and the forms of Strika, Slipstream, and Thundercracker rolled out, dazed and battered. All three were puking Energon and staining the white sands with pinks and blacks. Starscream clapped a hand against his face in embarrassment, but Bludgeon paid no heed to it.

Starscream raised his head, locking eyes with the city's defender. 'Now then, you wouldn't happen to be hiring, would you?'