Chapter 36: Infection
"I can't believe I'm actually onboard the Nemesis," Firestar said to herself, "I mean yeah, not the Nemesis from where I'm from, but still. A Nemesis." "At least it's better than working for that weird-talking organic," Flareup commented, "That punk was a real pain in the gearshaft. My condolences to whoever got stuck working with him after us." The other femme nodded. Though she'd been traversing its halls for the past week or so, she still couldn't believe that they'd actually managed to capture the mighty Decepticon flagship considering the potential damage that its counterpart could have done under the insane leadership of the Megatron that had transformed Autobot City. Such an accomplishment in her world would have been more than enough to end any threat that came their way. Well...almost any.
"You think it'll be enough?" Firestar asked, her hand to her chin in thought. Flareup looked at her baffled. "Enough?" she laughed, "Honey, it's the Nemesis! That which annihilated all other THINGS that went against it! I'm pretty sure we'll be safe for a long time to come." Firestar's eyes shifted to her partner. "You obviously don't know Unicron..." she sighed. "Well maybe I don't," Flareup shrugged, "But either way, if we want any chance at survival I'd say we should get back to work. Those war scars ain't gonna pound themselves out you know." Firestar smiled as the orange and red Autobot departed for another sector of the ship.
It really was amazing the progress they had made on the ship's repairs in such a short time frame. What had once been the shambled splinters of the Nemesis was now an almost fully built replicate of the warship. Though it still needed a few coats of paint, its figure was definitive. The sleek extreme structure of the vessel's frame provided more than enough of an imposing presence to notify any bot of what it was. It wouldn't be long. In about a day or so more the reborn space ship would be functioning and operational once more. That is if they could work out just what was delaying the progress in the Grand Mal defenses.
That was where Firestar was headed. Cautiously she slipped through the door. Even though the place was down, it still gave off a pretty haunting atmosphere to be in the same chamber as that which could blast any opponent to smithereens. One wrong move normally and she would be nothing but a pile of steaming scrap and oil smears on the metallic floor. As quietly as possible she walked towards the opposite end of the room. For as long as any Autobot had been working in the Nemesis, the piping along that wall had been disturbingly mangled. Everyone had just assumed that it was the spot that Oil Slick had messed with when he supposedly was trying to sabotage his once fellow Decepticons.
But there was something about it that was...scary. The tear wasn't normal. In fact...it seemed to have changed since the first time that Firestar had laid her optics on it. No longer was the opening just a few panels that had been pulled out of place. No, what it now resembled was what could only be described as a flesh-wound. The mechanical equivalent of a person that had had a dagger torn across their arm, splitting the tendons and nerves and cellular structure into alien alignments. The crack oozed with fluid which drizzled to floor adding to the already messy puddle beneath it. But Firestar needed to work on it. All schematics had shown that that malfunction was what was causing all the problems in the ship's technological reparations.
Firestar took in a hesitated breath of air. She knew she didn't need to, but the flow of the invisible gas helped ease her shaky circuits. It wasn't much, but it gave her the boost of confidence that she needed. After another stream of the ship's oxygen, Firestar approached the tear and bent down. Curiously, she rubbed her fingers across the lip of the opening. What collected on her fingers glowed green. It was eerie. She couldn't place her processor on it, but she could have sworn that she'd seen the compound before. Ejecting the thought, Firestar reached her hand fully into the opening and started to close her hand around some wires. "Wait...that was Angolmois!" Firestar realized. It was too late. Her hand had gripped the wires. A surge of energy tore through her.
"Are you sure this is what we're supposed to be doing?" Bumblebee asked. The yellow car drove steadily through the busy corridors of the Cybertronian structures. All around him vehicles of all shapes and sizes were drifting about their daily business. Autobots, that could, even might be seen flying alongside some Decepticons from time to time. "It's so strange out here now," he said to himself. "I'm as sure as Primus is that we should be doing this," Sari yawned, "Though I'm not sure that I picked the right time of day for us to. I hardly got any sleep last night." If Bumblebee had been in robot-mode, a grin would have been on his face.
"Well, you got the best seat in the car," he told the sleepy girl. Sari shook her head and rubbed her hands along the steering wheel. "I'm sure I could find a better seat if said car was a human." That shut the young bot up. Now it was Sari's turn to grin. "Ravage got your voice synthesizer?" she cooed. "No, I'm just...preoccupied with the road's all," Bumblebee lied. "More like embarrassed," the girl giggled, her teeth now showed through her joyful mouth as her brows lifted, "In fact I'm pretty sure your radio's lighting's turning pink." "Robots don't blush!" Bumblebee retorted, "I mean, I...fine, yeah, embarrassed, overly loved, whatever you wanna call it."
Happy with her victory, Sari nuzzled her face into the steering wheel while her arms wrapped around its rims. "You are right though," she yawned, "Best seat in the car." Sari didn't know how long she remained in that position. Though her eyes were shut, she could still see light peaking through her lids, dousing her vision in a variety of twilight colors due to the filters of skin that it passed through. Ever now and then she could make out a few shapes that the veins danced, even what she thought to be humanoid figures. Their forms basic, but their features bland. There was no defining element to their faces or bodies. It was just various clones in different sizes and positions.
But they weren't random. They seemed choreographed. Meaningful. What started out as one became two...and then four. With each shift in light, more and more figures came into being. A crowd was forming. Some of the members were short, while others were the size of skyscrapers. Some were far away, others were right up in the field of vision. But they were congregating towards a central point. The figures were joining at the eye of the group. They were fusing. But something else was happening as well. The darkness surrounding them was collecting aside from them. Ultimately, all that remained was two orbs. One dark, one light. Then they clashed together.
With a jump, Sari jolted back in her seat. "Sari!" Bumblebee yelled. The girl blinked. She was in a daze. "Yo! Earth to Sari. Come in Sari." Sleepily, she rubbed eyes and gave her head a little shake. "You alright?" Bumblebee asked, "Been trying to get your attention for about a minute now." "Oh, ye-yeah," she laughed nervously as her eyes looked around. They were stopped in front of a large metal door. "What's up?" Sari asked curiously. Through the folding and bending of the car's transformation, she was soon on the shoulder of the larger being. "Well, you're the one that declared that we should do this," Bumblebee reminded, "Or do you wanna back out?" "Oh!" Sari exclaimed, "I just didn't think we'd get here that fast." Bumblebee gave her an odd look. "Thanks for the compliment and all, but it took an hour once you dozed off." Sari blushed. "Embarrassed?" Bumblebee cooed. "Just shut up and continue..." Sari grumbled. The yellow Autobot grinned.
A knock rapped at the door. Silence. Again it sounded. The Transformer's eye twitched almost as wickedly as his uncontrollable servos did. Sensing the determination of the intruder on the other side, Oil Slick finally hissed at the disturbance and backflipped out of his seat. Landing in front of the door, he wretched it open. "Hey," greeted Ratchet with a wave. He was used to the usual glare by now, even a snide comment here and there. But this time the look was...different. Darker. "What do you want Autobot?" Oil Slick grunted. His head seemed to spasm as he spoke. Ratchet's brows furrowed at the sight of the figure. From what his olfactory sensors could pick up, the lanky scientist hadn't bothered to go to the car wash either following his rescue from the Nemesis.
"Just uh...checking up on you," Ratchet confessed, "Seeing if everything's alright. No one's seen you in cycles." "I'm fine," Oil Slick muttered and started sliding the door shut. Ratchet's foot wouldn't allow that. "No. I don't come by here knocking my servos off everyday on this slagging metal plate for nothin' ya know. I'm surprised I finally got a response." "Well congratulations," Oil Slick replied irritably. The old Autobot's jaw hung a bit. He expected the sarcastic demeanor of his fellow bot; that was nothing new. But the way the line was delivered was. It was alien. Everything about the Oil Slick that was currently presented was out of whack. The way he moved. The attitude. Everything. Even his coloring seemed to be deteriorating.
Ever since the mission on the moon Oil Slick had been acting suspiciously, and it'd only been escalating ever since. Now it was too much. Couldn't he tell that he'd simply instigate another case of being suspected of Decepticon alignment once more if he continued these actions? Did he even care? Ratchet doubted he did, even if he did act normal. Oil Slick never seemed to care about anything that didn't have to do with his work. But his actions didn't even seem like a Decepticon's. They didn't assume any alignment to either side of the Cybertronian race. It was as if he himself had isolated himself into a category all his own.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to scan you over," Ratchet suggested. A trickle of red drifted across Oil Slick's green optics. "Ya haven't had a physical or nothing since you became our ally ya know..." Ratchet clenched his teeth. He was sure that Oil Slick noticed his stare towards the crimson coloring that swept chaotically through his visual sensors. "I'm a scientist too," Oil Slick reminded, his head jerking. "Yeah, but that's just you that would be checking yourself over," Ratchet reasoned, "Wouldn't go on record for anything. It'd probably be better if-" "I'm fine!" Oil Slick insisted. Effortlessly, he expunged Ratchet's foot from the door. "Leave," a dark voice ordered from Oil Slick's mouth. The door shut.
The Autotrooper cried as he hit the floor. His look up at his attacker was his last. The zombie-like female Transformer stood back up with the the guard's Spark Chamber in her hand and squeezed. With a sickening crack, it shattered and the Autotrooper's shell faded to gray. Indifferent about the event, the curved figure started walking towards the doors that the late Autotrooper had been guarding. The words "Docking Bay" were plastered over it in both Cybertronix and English. The form's mouth grinned at the concept. As though humans would ever step foot on such a large structure. The robot was inputting the needed information into the terminal next to the door when a sound echoed through the hall.
"Firestar!" Flareup's voice exclaimed. As the younger bot set sights on the dead Autotrooper the typing stopped. "What...what are you doing?" Flareup asked uneasily. She gasped as Firestar turned to her. Her optics were glowing blood red. "F...fire..star?..." The emotionless femme took a step towards the orange one, her hands at her sides. One was holding a gun. The strides of the walk were too fluid. It was too casual. But Flareup could do nothing. She was hypnotized by the seductive nature of the optical units. Something about them dug their way to her Spark Chamber. It exhausted her and glued her to the floor. Firestar just kept walking.
"I asked what you're doing..." Flareup managed to repeat. With each word she could feel the presence embedding itself more in her, as though her mouth was a very danger. "What I always do," a cocky voice replied from Firestar's mouth. Flareup's optics widened. The voice. She knew the voice! "You're not Firestar!" she cried. Finally her hinges unlocked and she began backing up. Frantic, Flareup revealed her own firearm and pointed it at the older female's head. She couldn't bring herself to pull the trigger of the quivering weapon. She'd never killed anyone before. Especially not a Transformer that she had affection for.
"Aren't you gonna shoot?" the voice jibed. Flareup cringed. Firestar's mouth smiled. "Come on, free hit right here," the voice announced as the body's finger pointed to the side of Firestar's head, "Even a scared kid like you should be able to at least grave the plating." Flareup clenched her teeth and turned around. She broke into a run. As she did though, something changed. The setting was drooping, the walls and ceiling becoming more and more eerie. And the floor...moved. Flareup wished she hadn't looked down. Beneath her feet were what looked like organic pipes flowing in various patterns that pulsated with each landing of her foot.
Flareup felt sick. But she couldn't stop. She could still feel the demonic presence. Eventually she had to however. The shift had become too much. The undead chamber was a living monster itself. One which she couldn't escape. Air swept throughout the foul techno-organic corridors. It seemed to be breathing. There was no relief. The ungodly abomination just kept growing. Just then Flareup felt something. She gulped and turned. Staring back at her was the worn tattered face of the Team Chaar member Cyclonus. "Galvatron," it wheezed through the coils that melded it to the wall, "Nothing was ever good enough...then I saw Optimus was a leader of integrity...unlike...you..."
"Having fun with the locals?" the voice asked. Shocked, Flareup whirled around and pressed herself against the wall. What she was looking at wasn't Firestar. It was a nightmare. Sticking out of the sides of the once nice-looking bot's head were a pair of handle-bars while two motorcycle wheels protruded out of her back. Mech-fluid drained from the physical wounds they produced. "I always did admire this décor," the voice commented while Firestar's hand lifted and rubbed her chin, "Don't worry, it'll grow on you after a few millenia." "Y...you...you said I'd be safe..." Flareup stuttered, "Remember our conversation?..."
"Oh yes," the voice laughed, "No, don't worry kid. You'll be just fine. If in you decide to align yourself with what really matters in this existence." Again, Flareup stood frozen as Firestar's body approached. But it wasn't from the optics. This time the wall itself seemed to be growing on her, sifting through her very makeup. She could feel the evil of the monster searching her. Every circuit and alloy of her being it was analyzing. "What...what are you going to do?..." Flareup choked. She could feel the infection clogging her throat. Firestar's mouth smiled. "I'm going to end this," the voice told her. "End..what?" Flareup coughed. Her throat was sealed. "Everything," it said. Firestar's grinning mouth was the last image Flareup saw as her conscience faded.
With a hiss, the doors closed and the ambulance transformed. Stretching, Ratchet cracked some of his joints. He just couldn't shake the thought of Oil Slick from his processor. There just was something...weird about him. Not that the Decepticon hadn't always been weird, but this time it was different. The chaotic coloring that danced about his optics, the dingy atmosphere that encompassed his weary figure. It was almost as if the bot himself was deteriorating. The exterior caused a thought of dread to pass over Ratchet at what Oil Slick's actual form was like beneath his protective suit. Whatever was happening to him wasn't good.
Then something else caught Ratchet's attention. "...may I ask what you two are doing in my room?" he grunted as he put his hands on his hips. Sheepishly, Sari and Bumblebee turned around. They gave a nervous chuckle. "Heya doc-bot," Bumblebee greeted innocently. Sari's forced smile was just as disturbing. Ratchet tapped his foot. "You gonna answer my question?" he persisted irritably. Sari and Bumblebee looked at each other. "Well...you're the one that talked me into coming here," Bumblebee reminded. Sari let out a sigh, "Great support Bee." "Well?..." Ratchet drew the word out, "I don't have all stellar cycle ya know. Still have things that I wanna do before the apocalypse."
Sari muttered something under her breath as Bumblebee's hand prodded her forward. Spotting Ratchet's stern face, she smiled again and took in a deep breath. "Oh great and wise veteran Ratchet," she began. The older bot lifted a brow. He was definitely intrigued by the introduction. "Me and my...assistant here-" Bumblebee waved happily. Ratchet just rolled his eyes. "Well you see, we're going around and asking bots of importance a few questions for a little...project we're doing." "Really?" Ratchet mused. He decided that there'd be no harm in playing along. "And who all have you questioned?" Bumblebee and Sari's eyes connected. They pointed back at the red and white bot before them.
"Well think of it this way," Bumblebee suggested, "You're number one on the list!" "Right," the medic grumbled, "you two just had better not have been doing anything in here before I got here." "Who, us?" Bumblebee asked doubtfully. Ratchet's mouth shrunk a bit at the question. "Let's just get on with this," he muttered. Frustrated, he lifted his hand to his head and caressed the space between his optics with his thumb and pointer finger. Sari bit her lip. It was obvious that she was nervous about the whole thing. "Let me guess," Ratchet sighed, "You're gonna be a mom." Sari's entire face became a tomato at the comment.
"Like hell!" she yelped. Both Sari and Ratchet stared at the excited female. Sari put a finger to her lower lip. "I mean...I'm sure I wouldn't mind...later on..." she said quietly. Bumblebee rubbed the back of his head. A moment of silence passed through the room. "Well, this is awkward," the yellow Autobot eventually commented. "Just get on with it. If you have something to say say it!" Ratchet barked, "If it's not life or death I don't see why you're wasting my time!" Sari clenched her teeth. "Well...it sorta is..." Bumblebee said for her. The medic blinked. "Hold on, let me get my equipment ready." "Don't bother," Sari told Ratchet who had taken to searching for various medical utensils, "There's not much you'll be able to do."
Ratchet gave a curious glance to the smaller figure. "It's Optimus," she said. Ratchet lowered a saw that he'd procured from a nearby closet. "Oh...well what about him? The bot's offline now and your lover boy there has known him just as long as me." A slight hint of red filled Sari's cheeks again at the comment. "It's not what we know that we want to know from you," Bumblebee explained, "We were just wondering what your thoughts were with him as our leader." Ratchet folded his arms over his chest. "Now why do you wanna know that?" "As we said," Sari told him, "A project. Now can you just co-operate for a bit?" "Fine," Ratchet muttered. Sari and Bumblebee gave each other a high-five.
"So you kids wanna know what I thought of him eh?" Ratchet asked. Bumblebee and Sari nodded as he began to rub his chin. "Well, when I first laid optic I him I knew he was destined for something greater," Ratchet started, "I mean, you don't get someone like that to look after a rusty old repair-crew. But I guess we all had our secrets we were hiding back then." "Some moreso than others," Bumblebee commented. Ratchet gave him a distasteful look to which Bumblebee waved his hands in front of him. "As I was saying. The kid had spunk. He had potential and he upheld the values of the Autobots better than anyone I've ever met. Aside from his youthful mishaps, I guess I admired him."
"Thank you Ratchet," Sari said. Bumblebee smiled. Ratchet couldn't help smiling back. He didn't know why, but telling such information to them lightened his Spark a bit. "But one other thing," Bumblebee interjected, "Have you seen Bulkhead anywhere?" "That Space Bridge blockhead? Yeah, he's out in Detroit somewhere," Ratchet shrugged. "Shouldn't be too hard to hunt down," Sari commented. After Bumblebee had morphed into vehicle-mode, Sari leapt into the door and they were off. "Kids," Ratchet sighed shaking his head, "Well, I think it's time for some shut-eye and-" Ratchet paused. Behind where Bumblebee had been standing moments before was a puddle of glowing greenish liquid that had begun eating its way through the floor of his room from a toppled beaker that he'd had on his desk. A vial that he'd had next to it was missing. "Those slaggin' little..."
Perceptor looked up from the slightly translucent floor. A light peered into the dingy chamber. "The cuffs won't be necessary boys," Wheeljack told the guards, "I'm going in." Hesitant to allow such interaction with a prisoner, the Autotroopers guarding the chamber gave odd looks to each other. They'd already had a wall of the chamber broken down the day before from three escapees. But this was a high ranking official, admired by all that'd ever known him. They couldn't disobey a direct order. How would it look on their job applications? Reluctantly, the guards backed off to either side and Wheeljack stepped forward.
Almost naturally, the opening to the chamber sealed behind him as Wheeljack made his way towards the Autobot that was sitting in the center. "Salutations," he greeted. "Hello," Perceptor replied robotically. "Mind if I sit?" "I mind nothing," Perceptor stated. Sympathetically, Wheeljack shook his head and took the spot across from the red Transformer. The white one looked down at the floor. "This brings back memories," he sighed. "Anything that's interacted with in the past does on some level," Perceptor informed. Wheeljack smiled. He was still the same old tech-head that he'd come to know. Emotionless and stale. Just like he'd always been...well, almost always.
"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here," Wheeljack guessed, "No, wait, let me think. You aren't." "Correct," Perceptor confirmed. "Well, whether you know it or not, I have some things to talk over with you." For a split second, Wheeljack thought he saw something flash across the intellectual's spectacles. "Then begin the discussion," Perceptor ordered. Wheeljack allowed a puff of air to breeze through his olfactories as he placed his hands on his knees. "I want answers," he said bluntly. "I have answers to some things," Perceptor said. Wheeljack rubbed his head. He could feel tension building within the room, as though it itself was observing them.
"Why did you try to have Primus killed?" Wheeljack coughed. Perceptor was quiet for a second. "If you think about it, you should come across the answer quite easily," he replied. "Well maybe I don't want to come across the answer," Wheeljack murmured. "Your thought process is illogical," Perceptor told him. "And yours is?" The red Autobot blinked. "My thought process is always logical," he said, "I have no emotions to get in my way." Wheeljack's mouth rose a bit on his face at the statement. "Correction, you did have emotions," he corrected. "That is irrelevant," Perceptor said. "Not really, considering that because of them, Unicron has now discovered us."
Now Wheeljack saw the look from the spectacles more clearly. It wasn't so much that Perceptor was showing an emotion as it was that he was attempting to display one. "And the way I see it, you probably feel so responsible that instead of trying to thwart that which threatens us, you try to get rid of the opposite to reassure yourself that what you did was the right thing to do." Perceptor just stared at his old colleague. "I continue what the Council had set in motion," Perceptor told him, "It is in my programming to finalize their legacy." "Even if it means destroying everything that ever was?" Wheeljack asked. Perceptor dipped his face to the ground. "I do not feel emotions."
"Wasn't this where that stupid mime was trying to be a robot?" Bumblebee grumbled at the memory that the park brought back. He could still hear the clanging of Bulkhead's hands smashing together in his act of applauding. It had blown the humans everywhere from the air currents it caused. "Slag I sure showed him didn't I?" Bumblebee chuckled. "Yes, break-dancing was such a vivid display of robotic movements," Sari sarcastically agreed. "Like you could do better," the yellow bot huffed folding his arms over his chest. Sari grinned and became stiff. Bumblebee looked at her curiously. "Something wrong?" he asked.
"I am a yellow compact," Sari declared as fakely as possible, a blank stare on her face. Stiffly she put her arms out in front of her and began walking, her feet thrusting upward with each step. "I am infected with mutant space barnacles and can't escape from a mine that I stupidly trapped me and my best friend in with a monster." "Oh come on!" Bumblebee exclaimed, "That's almost as bad of acting as those toys that have recorded lines in them!" Sari giggled and broke out of the trance she'd put herself in. "Though you would need to be a lot less flexible, and the coloring's all wrong," he continued, "not to mention the size accuracy."
"Well excuse me mister critic," Sari said through clenched teeth, "At least I don't go dillydollying on the moon an-" "I said I was sorry!" Bumblebee grumbled smacking his forehead, "Geez! I mean what are you so mad about?" "That I didn't get to kick any ass," Sari told him with a smile. Mischieviously, Bumblebee smiled back and pressed his hand against her back. Sari's eyes wide with surprise, she yelped as her body was forced against the ground. "Well you definitely won't be doing that with how easily you get taken down," Bumblebee laughed to the girl he'd pinned. "Wise bot eh?" he heard Sari mutter.
A moment later Bumblebee retracted his hand and started dancing around frantically with it waving in front of him. "Slag ow! OW fucking slagging yow!" were just some of the profanities that could be heard across the park from the crying Autobot. Proud of her display, Sari blew the steam away that her arm-blade being pressed against his metal hand had caused. As his dancing came to a close, Bumblebee shot Sari a dirty look. "Hey, you should know better to antagonize someone of my class of royalty," Sari shrugged. "You pull that bitchy queen act off pretty slaggin' convincingly," Bumblebee muttered. Sari smiled.
"And you pull that act of spouting out words you shouldn't better than usual," a new voice interrupted. Turning, the two spotted a large green Autobot. "Bulkhead!" they exclaimed and rushed towards him. With a thoom, his back hit the ground from the impact of the smaller bots. "Hey I'm not a Decepticon!" he cried trying to pry the shorter figures from his. "No, but you did take a picture of me and Bumblebee in bed," Sari reminded darkly. "I, uh, none of that would have happened if you had just decided not to teach Bumblebee how to be a human," Bulkhead retorted. "Well, either way, that's not why we're here," Bumblebee told him as he pulled the girl back once he'd gotten off, "We just agreed to attack you when we found you."
"How pleasant..." Bulkhead muttered getting back to his own feet, "Well, just so you know your cursing interrupted my latest masterpiece, so whatcha want?" "What'd you think of Optimus?" Bumblebee asked. Bulkhead blinked. "Jumping into it a bit soon don't ya think?..." Sari commented. "Hey, your idea to do this in the first place," Bumblebee reminded, "So I guess you'd best do the talking." "Thank you," she said with a bow. Bumblebee rolled his eyes. "Why do you guys wanna know what I think of ol' boss bot?" Bulkhead asked. "It's just for a little...project we're doing," Sari told him. "Well, at least you're keeping yourselves entertained," Bulkhead thought on the brighter side, "But who all have you asked so far."
Sari and Bumblebee bit their lips as they looked at each other. "Ratchet-" "And Blackout and Blitzwing and Rodimus and Wheeljack and Vector Prime!" Bumblebee lied. "Wow, you guys really get around," Bulkhead laughed. "Yeah," Sari chuckled uneasily, "Sure do...so, what's your response." Bulkhad tapped his lower lip at the question. "What'd I think of...hm...well..." He felt the others' curious stares intensifying. "I guess...I thought he was a good leader," Bulkhead eventually said, "He was someone that I could look up to. When there was responsibility to take, he'd be the one to do it. He always fought the good fight and, personally, I think he was the best leader I've ever known about."
"Even better than Ultra Magnus?" Bumblebee asked surprised. Bulkhead looked at him. "Well, how would you answer your question?" Embarrassed, Bumblebee looked to the ground. "Yeah..." he sighed, "I guess you're right..." Bulkhead smiled. "Well if you don't mind I have a painting to get back...hello," the green giant said as he turned back to the picture. Clambering across is was the Society of Ultimate Villainy. Slo-Mo gulped. They'd been spotted. "Wait, so this picture isn't from a museum or something?" Nanosec broke the silence, "It's sure crappy enough to be." "Runneth for it!" the Angry Archer yelled. The three Cybertronians took to the evil-doers heels.
"When the kid said "saving the universe" I was pretty sure that meant more than just heavy labor," Rattletrap grunted. In pain, he bent back and let go of the large fluctuation device he was carrying. Supposing that the loud clanging sounds and cries following it couldn't be a good thing, the brown Autobot chanced a look back at where the equipment had dropped. The ensuing collision against the top of the head combined with the gravitational pull had sent the device hurtling downwards and turned it into a rather lethal metal boulder, its cracks against the enormous Headmaster Unit echoing across the top of the city.
"What the hell ya noob!" the enraged voice of Henry Masterson yelled from the bottom of the structure that the Transformers were working on. The fluctuation mechanism had landed right next to him. "What're you trying to do, kill me?" "Maybe not me..." Rattletrap muttered to himself, "But keep pushin' it and ya might grace me with that pleasure." "Look, I don't know what flame war the mods pulled you up here from, but we got a topic to finish. There's no time for loling or major spitzing! When a Unit needs to get done, I get it done, and that means you're going to get this one done! Got it!"
Rattletrap heard the bots around him grumbling as they started up the construction once more, their distraction now gone. They really hated the human. And it wasn't the normal kind of dislike. Due to how organics had always been portrayed on Cybertron, organicphobia was widespread throughout the community. But this Henry Masterson kid, or the Headmaster, was a special breed of filth. Where most bots were simply just scared of humans and other creatures inhabiting Earth, the contempt for the young man was unmatched. Not only did he talk weirder than any THING that anyone had ever encountered in all their stellar cycles of being online, but he was also a slave-driver. Some had even begun referring to him as the next Megatron.
To many, it was already bad enough that they had to ask the humans, of all things, for aide. The race's elongated isolation from any other actual sentient beings had done quiet a damage to their egos. Rattletrap never saw the problem though. If there was a better way to survive it was only logical to take it. This particular specimen however was really testing that line. He didn't even know how the kid had authority over them. Sure his processor was way out of his league from what Rattletrap could tell, but even the most arrogant of commanders would either have to adjust to the team or be expunged from the operation all-together. But Henry Masterson? He remained the same bastard he'd been ever since he'd come in contact with the Autobots.
"GRIMLOCK THROUGH!" the Dinobot roared. Rejected from his thoughts, Rattletrap decided not to pick up the next load of machinery and instead turned his attention towards the large Transformer. If nothing else he'd at least put on a good show. Henry apparently hadn't heard or just simply ignored Grimlock as he was still barking weird orders to the other bots operating on the enormous head of the city. It wasn't until Grimlock was a few yards from him that Henry turned his attention from his work. But it wasn't Grimlock he looked at. Instead his face turned to the sky where a large fireball had started to illuminate the plating of the city-sized bot. Both the human and Transformer were blown back as the pod impacted between them. The only thing Rattletrap could see through the cloud of smoke and fire that ensued was a pair of red optics as they emerged from the vessel.
"There, everything's all nice neat," Ratchet sighed happily. Exhausted, he slumped back in his operating chair and hung his head. He couldn't believe how much of a mess it had been. At first all there was was the vial that Bumblebee and Sari had knocked over. What was in it he hadn't remembered, but whatever it was, a green oozing substance had dripped down from where it had been. And that's what caused all the problems. Whatever the compound was, it made short work of the floor that it had leaked onto. The plating of both it and the table it'd slid down began deteriorating at a rapid rate and ultimately the furniture collapsed in on itself.
By the time the medic had finally mopped up the destructive mess, the table was nothing more than metal filings scattered about the floor; the instruments and containers it had been holding joined its frame. "And you're the culprit," Ratchet laughed lightly to himself as he lifted the vial to his studying optic, "Well, good thing those kids didn't stick around to see what'd I do to em. Wonder just what they were up to with..." Ratchet dropped the vial. It shattered as realization hit him. What'd he seen in the tube-like structure wasn't anywhere near the shade of color that the liquid that had caused all the frustration had been. Instead, the linings of the glass were purple! He'd been keeping raw energon inside of it for research. At Oil Slick's request.
"Slag!" he yelled. The medic leapt to his feet and tore out his door. The only thing that slowed his dash through the hall was the shaking that rippled through the hallway. An explosion had gone off! "I should've hid that stuff right when I got back!" Ratchet cursed to himself as his hand steadied itself against the wall, "why with that screwloose's Cyber-Ninja trainin' he probably had no problem beating me to my room after our little talk!" He knew that some of the other bots that had started to evacuate the sector were giving him odd looks. It wasn't like someone to go towards the source of the chaos. But then again, few bots experienced the unusual events that normally took place on the organic planet. And even fewer thought they'd stand a chance at reasoning with the individual responsible. With another explosion, Ratchet gripped the handle of the door he'd been making his way towards and pushed it inwards. A dark room awaited him.
"YAH!" Hot Shot cried. He jolted up startled and whirled his head around. "Um..l...lord Galvatron?" he gulped. The room he found himself in was dark...but different. It wasn't at all like the interior of the Nemesis. "Anyone?..." "Sorry about that," Red Alert apologized. A second later the lights flooded back through the room. Hot Shot was in a medical bed. He was back in Autobot City! "Whatever's going on out there is causing quite the ruckus for the City's already garbled mess of electric currents," she told him as she walked over to his bedside. So the explosion that'd awoken him hadn't been just a memory.
"What all do you remember?" the nurse asked. Hot Shot looked away. "Um...that you tried to offline me that last time we were in contact..." Red Alert let a puff of air expel from her olfactory units. She'd be lying to herself if she were to say that she hadn't been ashamed of what'd been done. "I'm...sorry..." she said quietly. Delicately, she placed a hand on his quivering shoulder. His systems eased at the touch. "Me and Wheeljack let you escape. But I was under other orders back then...what I did was wrong," the fembot explained, "had I known how things would turn out...well, we all would have probably acted much differently back then."
Though still a bit cautious, Hot Shot looked at her. His mouth gave a small smile. "Well, nothing we can do about that," he said trying to lighten the mood. Red Alert closed her optics and nodded. "But I'm assuming you were asking about while I was away," the male guessed. The female repeated the action with her head. "You wouldn't believe how shocked I was when Warpath carried you in when he got back from the moon." "Well, let's see..." he muttered as his brows furrowed in thought, "The last I remember of this place it was transformed into an enormous robot body." "That hasn't changed," Red Alert told him. Thinking about that day brought the quivering back to the unstable Autobot's form. "Well, at least that monster that did all that's gone now," he sighed. "That is the hope," Red Alert agreed.
Hot Shot rubbed his chin. Just how long had he been gone? "After being forced into the ranks of the Decepticons we took up residence on that Dinobot Island place," the patient told her, "that's where I met that Blitzwing fella." "He's helping us now." Hot Shot's optic twitched. "A lot has changed since you've been gone," Red Alert informed, "Actually...a lot always does change when you're away it seems." "Joy," Hot Shot murmured sarcastically. Giving him a doubtful smile, Red Alert patted the back of his helmet. "Look on the bright side," she said, "we aren't gonna try anything on you like we did again. The guy who ran all that stuff is behind bars now."
"Thank Primus," Hot Shot sighed. Red Alert put a finger to her lip. "About Primus..." she started nervously. Hot Shot looked at her in confusion. "What, did things really change all THAT much while I was away?" Red Alert laughed and shrugged. "Spend a vacation in a god, miss out on another," she figured. The patient rolled his eyes. "When will life be normal again?" he grumbled. Distastefully he looked at his insignia. It showed the alliance of the Decepticons. But his optics were still blue. "Guess I won't be needing this anymore then," he said to himself as he tore the purple sticker off.
"N-now look, it's not like we were stealing good art..." Nanosec tried to excuse. Bulkhead took a step forward as his wrecking-ball popped out of his arm. The human gulped. Normally he'd just simply run away. But as things were, there was nowhere to go. They were surrounded. "Perhapseth an apology is in order," the Angry Archer laughed nervously. The dark looks from their opponents' faceplates said otherwise. "Just...a thought..." "You ain't taking me back to the slammah!" Professor Princess suddenly exploded. All eyes shot to her. Viciously, she swung her wand about and sent a rather devastating blow to the Autobots. Unfortunately for her, said blow was comprised of flowers and bunny phermones. Her mouth shrunk at the unfazed enemies.
"Look, kids," the woman of the group said, "I'm sure we can talk this over. I mean the chief did pardon us and it's practically the end of the world right?" "Doesn't mean you can just go around doing what ya want," Bulkhead muttered. The ground beneath the villains shook as he took another step. "Well who says we were doing what you thought we were?" Slo-mo asked. "And just what else would you be doing?" the green robot asked. Slo-Mo smiled. "Why admiring the beauty of your work of course." Bulkhead's optics lifted in shock and he put a hand to his mouth. "You really think it was good?" he asked sheepishly. Slo-Mo turned to the others.
"Oh oh, for seuth. Yes indeed oh arbitrager of justice!" the Angry Archer agreed hastily. "Better than any of the crap I could do I gotta say," Nanosec admitted. "What're you guys talking about, it was just a bunch of-" the speedy man cupped his hand over Professor Princess's mouth. Bumblebee and Sari looked at each other in disbelief from what was happening. "In fact I can see your type of portraits lining walls the world over," Slo-Mo continued. She began to lead the other criminals around the giant Transformer. "Oh stop it," Bulkhead giggled. "I'm serious," the female insisted thrusting her arms up to the sky, "There's a whole world out there for you to display to. I can see it now, Bulkhead: The First Great Autobot Artist."
Bulkhead was practically about to blow his top with how much praise he was suddenly getting for the medium he enjoyed to work in so much. "But...you were trying to steal it..." he remembered. "Honey, baby, bulky-boy," Slo-Mo laughed lightly placing her hands on her hips, "People don't take what they don't like." Bulkhead couldn't take it. He had to turn away. He knew that Autobots couldn't give the kind of emphasis on the emotion that humans could, but he could still feel his faceplates heating up from the affection. His two partners however, weren't buying the act. While Slo-Mo sweet-talked the overemotional tank, Bumblebee and Sari kept the others from passing them.
"But...you're still criminals," Bulkhead said, his flattery dissipating as he turned back to the woman, "Doesn't excuse what you think." "Kid, I'm a lot of things," Slo-Mo stated with a shrug. She now had something in her hand. "But I'm no artist. I steal cause, let's face it, otherwise I can't make a real living. But you..." "Yes?..." Bulkhead's curiosity overrode the facts. He desired the acknowledgment. "You kiddo, you got something going for ya." And that was the last he saw of Slo-Mo...or any of the criminals for that matter. It was as though they had just suddenly vanished. But they weren't the only things that had changed. Sari was now slung over Bumblebee's leg and panting, her human-mode present.
"Way to go Picasso..." the girl murmured through gasps. Bulkhead gave her a confused stare. "So, she did use the medallion," Bumblebee sighed. "Yeah, and just so you know, it doesn't take long for them to outrun a teenage girl," Sari informed. She could fall asleep on the metal plating with how much the villains had worn her out in the chase. "Sorry guys," Bulkhead said quietly. His optics met the ground. He couldn't believe how stupid he'd been. "Eh, don't leak it," Bumblebee shrugged, "Besides, it's not like they're the worst of our problems." "We have problems?" the green Autobot asked. Bumblebee pointed behind him. Smoke was rising from the distant Autobot City. "...Bumblebee, you better be a car for this cause I ain't walking or skating," Sari muttered. "Why don't you ever bring your jet-pack?" Bulkhead wondered. Sari laughed lightly. "And ruin the comedy relief?"
Kup was confused. He just couldn't understand it. The entire platoon of Autotroopers that had been sent in were nothing more than smears and craps lining decorating the corridors. There were some damn good bots amongst em too! And some...had just simply vanished all together. From the reports at the top of the city and the transmissions that were made before the eerie silence on the Nemesis commenced, the vicious culprit was none other than the fembot Firestar. "Knew we shouldn't have trusted some otherworlder. Who knows who she actually is..." the veteran muttered to himself. But it still didn't make sense. There was no way that a single bot would decimate such an armada!
Kup cringed as he passed by a corpse. His feet made sickening splashes trough the liquids that oozed from it. Its face was shredded and strewn beyond recognition. Kup could feel himself stepping onto the battlefield again. Desolate and barren, the setting had been beaten down by what could only be fathomed to be demons of the Pit itself. Bodies were the floor and toxic fumes were the sky. But there was something amiss. For through such silence there could be not complete solitude. There was always at least one remnant. The one that had caused such chaos, had given their own hand into the progression of the insanity.
Kup gripped his firearm. He knew better than to let his guard up in such a suspicious environment. The tension heightened with each step he took. It was unnerving, but someone had to bear it. If not, there wouldn't have even been effort put into staying alive. The entire race might as well just die off and let the opposition overtake them. But Kup believed in the priorities he had set for himself. Though he may have worn into just an old drilling sergeant, he still had a duty. Anyone did. That was the price of life. To protect such a value was the greatest honor any bot could have. And to die for such gave purpose.
Slowly, the chipped veteran slid against the wall. He could feel the presence darkening. Consuming him. It had to know that he was there! Kup shut down his optics for a second and gave a bit of thought. That was what he always did whenever things got rough. He needed to stay in control. When he brought them back online however, such meditation was practically shattered. The wall he had so defensively put himself against was now pulsing! Though he dreaded to do so, he stole a look at it. The plating of the wall was being consumed by what appeared to be packs of techno-organic structures!
But it wasn't just that spot. The entire chamber had become an ungodly cavern! Faces and bodyparts flooded across the rims of the corridor, distant cries and screams echoing from their eternally open mouths. Kup shut his optics again. He couldn't block it out! The scene was just too impressive! "Primus...please..." he gasped to himself. Very rarely was Kup scared. War did away with such feelings. But this...this was something else entirely. The sights wouldn't leave. The sounds filled his audio receptors, as though they were echoing against the inner workings of his processor. It was unbearable! It wouldn't stop!
"You gonna do something or just keep shuddering?" a voice asked. The new sound forced the old Autobot's optics back online. He was staring into the face of the fembot that they'd been sent to deal with. But her form was amiss. The coloring on her face-plates were deteriorating and the voice that spoke was male. In fact...Firestar herself was not all there. Handlebars were poking out of her head while wheels accompanied her back. Amongst other vast changes, her optics were glowing a deathly shade of crimson. One that seemed to stare straight into Kup's Spark.
Assuming that his tongue might betray him against such a being, Kup pulled out his gun and took aim. He didn't have time though. The seductive figure grabbed the gun by the tip and broke it out of his grip with a surprising burst of strength. The veteran didn't need another moment to act. His knife flew out and sailed towards the abomination's abdomen. But it knew of the action. Sensing the assault, it grabbed his other arm and bent it upwards before pinning it to his back. Kup hissed in pain. His next movement he didn't like to think about, but he had to make it if he desired victory. With a crack, his shoulder-joint popped and the arm flung back to the lower part of his body.
"Always did tell that flame-splattered punk that he left a screw out," Kup mumbled to himself. His opponent's hand however, was still attached. Figuring that he'd only strain himself if he tried to free it, the bluish bot went for another strategy. Limberly, he fell down and swept his legs beneath Firestar's. They seemed to be taking on a purple hue. Kup thought he had his enemy beat as it began to fall. What he didn't realize was that the hand never let go of his arm. He was pulled backwards also. After a smooth backflip, the monstrous form slammed him into the ground on the opposite side of the room.
Sideways grinned as Kup blacked out. "You know, it's somewhat fitting that this happened to you of all bots.," he told the unconscious Autobot that had begun to become absorbed in the ground, "After all, have to make up for what your namesake helped do to the body once before." Satisfied with his little match against a surprisingly impressive opponent, the purple Transformer walked back around the corner and up to the door that he'd been viewing before the interruption. Like everything else, it was living. But another atmosphere could be felt from it. A calmer one. Sideways cringed a bit as he tore it away. It didn't take long for the darkness to take hold of the chamber. "Nice to see you again," Sideways said stepping into the room beyond, "Perceptor."
Clumsily Ratchet fumbled around for a light-switch. None could be found. Other than the monitors and lights dotting the computer consoles, the room was pitch black. The older bot was used to the...peculiar tendencies of their enemies. It didn't take much interaction with them to notice the differences in the lifestyles of those divided by the factions of the Cybertronian race. He assumed the same could be said for those on the other side of the energon grid. But this darkness was discomforting. Even to a Decepticon, Ratchet knew the servos would be quivering with the tenseness that coursed through the very air around his red and white shell. But he had to stop what was going on!
Before his hand could touch one of the keyboards on the consoles though, he noticed something. Laying across from him on an experimentation table was the raw energon he'd been keeping. But it wasn't how he remembered it looking. While it's purple color was still there, splotches of it were starting to mold a sickening shade of green. Some had even begun to reach out towards the inner parts of the container, their tendrils forming an ensnaring green web. It was spreading...like an infection...Soon the entirety of the Energon would be overwhelmed, its lively qualities lost forever to the dreadful intruder.
Despite the warnings his processor gave him, Ratchet approached the table. As he neared it he noticed something. The air. That is what was causing the nervousness in the room. That lone simple container. He'd witnessed such evil before. In Red Alert's study. The uneasiness it gave off felt lethal. As though the very look alone would be enough to kill the viewer. But Ratchet remained online. It was just a compound, just like anything else. As long as he didn't do something as stupid as sticking his hand in it he'd be alright...at least physically. He knew that the scars it'd leave on his mentality he'd have to go to Arcee to get worked out. But at least that'd give an excuse to spend time with her again.
Ratchet shook off the thought. He didn't have time to daydream. There was too much going on to enjoy such luxuries. Forcing his attention away from the seductive substance, he walked back to the consoles and began typing things in. The monitors came to life as their screen savers faded. "Now just what have you been up to Oily?..." the medic muttered to himself. His optics widened as he looked over the pages. He'd never seen so many windows of information. They all shared something in common however. Each of them were elements. Not just Earth-based ones or even Cybertronian ones. Pretty much every compound Ratchet could remember that was logged into the Cybertronian archives were displayed. He couldn't even see the background of the desktop with how cluttered the monitor was.
One window peaked the medic's interest. The subject became more clear upon a click to widen it to the borders of the screen. "Angolmois Counter-Agent Project..." Ratchet read quietly. There was no need to say the words with such silence, but it filled him with distaste. No matter how far down he scrolled all that he saw was one word. Failure. No matter what substance had been apparently used in the testing, none of them gave the desired results. There seemed to be no stopping the vile contamination. It was just as much a monster as that which produced it. Ratchet stopped scrolling. At the very bottom of the window was another word. Success.
"Allspark fragment..." Ratchet said. His Spark faded for a second. He hadn't needed to read it. It should have been obvious from the start just what would cure the atrocious nature of the ungodly liquid. "But where'd he get-" as he lowered his hand, Ratchet looked down. It had bumped against a couple of blue glistening fragments. Their illumination gave a small pocket of hope in the deathly darkness. But if what the screen said was true...well there was only one way to find out. With a sigh, Ratchet took one of the fragments and walked back towards the table that the container was seated on. The medic could have sworn that the web had expanded!
"Here goes nothing..." With a plop, the fragment dripped into the pool of purplish ooze. For a second the green vines shivered. Ratchet bit back his worries. He wasn't even following proper procedures for handling chemicals. He might have just made the situation even worse! The thoughts faded though as the webbing did. After almost a minute, the container was just as clean as it would have been the day it was formed! The Angolmois was gone! But something else caught Ratchet's attention. The Angolmois hadn't been the only thing to vanish. That which cured the infection had also. The fragment was gone too!
There was no time for relief. Ratchet rushed back over to the computer and highlighted the Allspark fragment. Next to it popped up another screen with lists of details about the holy structures. "Fragment...high deposits of Energon...blah blah...come on where is it...essence of Primus...Unicron...hello." Ratchet's optics caught a word he'd not seen in ages. "Core Bomb" he clicked it. What he saw next horrified him. As if in a trance he read the description. "Though only a theory previously during the Great War as a suggestion from Quintessa, I have found the solution to make it a reality.
"Ever since my return to Autobot City I have been working endlessly, cycle upon cycle with no powering down. I couldn't rest. Not as long as that damned disease gnawed at my piping. But I have discovered salvation. I don't know why I didn't realize it before, but it finally hit me. Out of nowhere the Allspark fragments popped into my mind. Using the ones that I stole from the Nemesis and those I'd been collecting during my stay on Earth, I instantly had the answer I'd been looking for. But I needed more. A way to make sure that any part of the city that might have...suffered from my interaction would would be cleansed.
"My mind drifted back to the early days of the Great War. Back then the black market was huge. Autobots and Decepticons of all shapes and sizes were garnering help from any corner of the galaxy that they could muster. From Nexus Zero to Arach Nine, the network was vast. It was in the interaction with the Quintessons that Swindle presented the idea. But the powersource required was immense. Only the Allspark was theorized to be able to power the W.M.D. But with its fragments now inhand, I can bring an end to this wretched corruption, throughout the city. Possibly the entire planet if the calculations are correct."
Ratchet's processor nearly shorted out. What was being proposed was insane! During the Great War the nightmarish weapon had only ever been rumors. No one had suspected that it had actually been given any thought to...from either side! Even Omega Supreme had cringed at the suggestion of the Core Bomb. It was what would have won the war for the Decepticons had it been made. Though it could only be used once, the blow it would make would devastate the Autobots for countless generations to come. And if Oil Slick actually had the means to make the weapon a reality... As another explosion tremored the City, Ratchet burst through the door and ran through the halls once more. There was only one place to ensure that the impact would encompass as much range as possible.
"Come on come on..." the young white-clad Autobot murmured as he worked. No matter how much he tapped sequences across the keyboard, the monitor would not leave its static-filled state. "Come the slag on!" Wheeljack yelled. Furiously he slammed his fist into it. An image appeared. "That always does it," he boasted to himself. A youthful cadet was staring back at him. "Wheeljack?" the red-armored Autobot questioned, "Where have you been? We've been waiting to hear back from you for the past five solar-cycles!" "Sorry Perceptor," the more brawny bot chuckled, "Just had a bit of a...malfunction..."
With a sigh, Perceptor rolled his eyes. "Lemme guess, your solution was beating the slag out of your computer." "Hey, it worked with the Wireless Microwave Capacitor I cooked up," Wheeljack shrugged. As expected, Perceptor's expression didn't shift from its dulled state. "Which reminds me, you gotta see the schematics I have for this new type of model I thought up! I call it the Dino-" "Wheeljack, I'm sure I'll have time enough to hear about your crackpot contraptions once you return," Perceptor pointed out, "Right now I'm more worried about what happened out there. What knocked out your transmissions?...and who is that behind you?"
"Oh this?" Wheeljack asked as he tilted the screen to the other occupant. He was purple and wearing a blackish helmet. The Autobot insignia decorated his translucent chest-plating. "Just some bot that needed a ride. His name's Sideways. But even though I'd like to lend a servo, there's just no slagging way to move. Ever since I got into this sector of the galaxy I've been stranded." Suspiciously, Perceptor analyzed the intruder. While it was true that he bore the sign of the Cybertronian race, it didn't add up. No one, at all, had ever been sent anywhere near where Wheeljack had. His optics widened.
"Where exactly are you?" Perceptor asked hesitantly. Wheeljack scratched his head. "The Pit if I know, been adrift for-" "Primus Jack! Show me the freaking scenery out there!" the young bot ordered. Though a bit shocked at the unusual anger that his friend was displaying, Wheeljack did as he was told and pointed the monitor towards the window. What Perceptor saw shot a pulse of horror through him. He didn't quite comprehend what frightened him about the planet. Perhaps it was the two horns jutting out from either side of the opening at the center of it or the teeth-like structures that lined the rim of the hole. But it didn't need an explanation. That was what they had been searching for.
"Now I know it gets to you the first few times, but I've pretty much calmed down after spending so much time here," Wheeljack laughed, "Or it's just made me more cookoo, one of the two." "Probably the latter," Perceptor forced a joke, "How long has it been in viewing range?" Oh ever since this fella showed up," Wheeljack answered jabbing a thumb back to the purple hitchhiker, "I figure it's what everything in this part of the galaxy gets sucked towards. Its gravitational pull is immense." "You're coming back here," Perceptor told him. He saw the foreigner's optics light up a bit at the statement. "Not if I don't have a way to move this slaggin' bolt bucket," Wheeljack corrected.
Perceptor shook his head. "You dope, you knew that the Transwarp experiments were nearing completion when you left. I'll just zap ya back here. Now let's just get a lock on where you are..." As he thought through the process though, Perceptor noticed something. A blade-like structure had slipped out of Sideway's arm cannon and into his hand. And he was approaching Wheeljack! "Behind you!" Perceptor yelled. The white Autobot turned around just in time to dodge the assault. Viciously, Sideways retracted the weapon from the computer it had plunged into and flung it at the scientist's head module.
Wheeljack didn't have enough time to make another dodge. At least, not a successful one. Painfully, he fell to the ground with the blade gouged into his shoulder. He looked up at the red optics. "Got it!" Perceptor exclaimed, "Alright, Mal-" "Perceptor don't!" Wheeljack hollered. Frantic, Perceptor spared a glance at the screen. Sideway's was holding the Autobot in the air by his injured body part. Wheeljack and Perceptor both realized just what they were in the presence of. "The energy signature has to be voice spoken remember?" the white Autobot wheezed. A squeeze from his opponent filled his shoulder with numbness, "If you say it he'll-" "If you don't, he'll kill your comrade," Sideways finished happily.
Perceptor gritted his teeth. There was no time to get anybody else to assist in the operation. It was all up to him. He had his choice. His friend or his world. Every single person on Cybertron. Every sentient being in this universe threatened by that which the Allspark had warned of. That which they were set in place to try and defend against. To protect life. But Wheeljack was life too. They all were. There would be no winning. If he didn't save his friend he would be dead. If he did though, the evil would know the signature needed to detect their homeworld. "Don't do it..." Wheeljack's voice pleaded. Perceptor heard a hiss as the squeeze tightened on the servo. "MALGUS!" Perceptor yelled. His emotions had gotten the better of him.
Wheeljack shook his head at the memory. Perceptor never should have brought him back to Cybertron. He should have died there and then. But there was no changing the past. And no changing how things were now. He didn't spite his old friend for what he did, but both of them realized the error that was made. That was why Perceptor had changed. That was why the specially coded Energon was sent out towards that location. But there was no stopping him. Ever. He was a god and they were mortals. If he wanted something he would get it when put up against the likes of such simplistic beings. There was really no reason to be mad at what Perceptor had done. It was just what he believed to be the right thing to do. Any logical bot would have done the same.
"Dawg, she's coming too," Jazz informed. Still a bit dulled from his thoughts, Wheeljack looked down at the cuffed feminine figure. Firestar looked back. "You've caused quite the commotion haven't you?" Rodimus Prime knelt down next to her. She didn't respond. "So, where are the bodies?" he asked. Firestar blinked. "Wh...what are you talking about?" she asked, "Where am I? What happened to the Angolmois?" Rodimus and Jazz looked at each other. "Anglo-what?" the Cyber-Ninja attempted to repeat. Now a third head appeared beside their's. "What Angolmois?" Wheeljack muttered. "On the Nemesis," she told him, "the piping that Oil Slick sabotaged the ship with. It was on it."
After a few seconds of processing the information, Wheeljack looked at the sealed organic door to the chamber he'd been in earlier that day. So that's why it wasn't opening! "Slag!" he yelled as he stood back up and put a finger to his com-link, "Vector Prime, we need help down here now! I think I have a little mission for your scout." Again, the two other males shared glances. "Dude, what's up?" Jazz asked. Wheeljack looked at him. His expression was dark. "Things that shouldn't be happening," Wheeljack responded.
"Come on dude! Let us in!" Bumblebee whined. Cliffjumper just remained the stone he was seated in the doorway. "Have you forgotten who's with us?" he reminded pointing at the girl between him and Bulkhead. "Ah yes, a human female, how interesting," the red Autobot joked. Sari's face contorted. "And have you forgotten who's in me?" she added. Cliffjumper peered down at her. "Who's in you right now?" Sari blushed. "What's that supposed to mean?" she growled. "Oh nothing," Cliffjumper chuckled, "Except that Vector Prime filled me in on just what your interaction with Primus actually is." Sari bit her lip. "And something tells me that he wasn't present when you wormed your way through security last time."
Bumblebee and Sari shared a light chuckle as Cliffjumper glared at them. "You don't understand though, you gotta let us in!" Bulkhead told him, "I mean you're supposed to let any civilian in anyhow!" "Well Tech-head, you're allowed in. These two I was told I could keep out if I want," the red bot informed. "Well, can't say I blame ya," the green one agreed. The younger participants gave him angry looks. "Just sayin'," Bulkhead shrugged. "So yeah, buhbye," Cliffjumper waved to Bumblebee and Sari. "Come on man!" the yellow Transformer cried leaping onto his monitor, "We need to get in there! The City's in danger!" Cliffjumper lifted a brow, "how?"
Forcefully, Bumblebee jerked Cliffjumper's head to the sky. He could now clearly see the smoke pillaring into it from the top of the enormous robot body. "...oh," he said quietly, "Still, why's that mean that you get to go in?" "Cause we're main characters!" Sari yelled stomping her foot. "We always get involved in this kind of stuff," Bulkhead told him, "Or have you forgotten that we're the ones that have been on this planet the longest?" Cliffjumper rubbed his chin. "I mean come on dude," Bumblebee added, "who was tasked with being the original ones to keep track of Earth?" Cliffjumper closed his optics and sighed. "Fine," he muttered, "But you better not pull that stupid god-thing on me again." Sari and Bumblebee grinned at each other as the doors to Autobot City opened.
"You're funny you know that?" Rattletrap laughed in disbelief. Wheeljack's glare didn't change. "You're wanting me, a simple businessman, to go scrumaging around in those vents again? Right after I used em to get out of jail?" "That's the idea," Rodimus Prime told him. "And lemme guess, that thing that nearly blew us up at the top of the City's in there." "Chill dawg," Jazz interrupted, "We're all out here in case things get too thick, dig?" Rattletrap shook his head after giving a glance to the odd-talking Autobot. "Yeah, you guys are out here," he muttered, "Where it's nice and safe and...hey, that's that other-universe babe."
"Nice to see you too," Firestar uttered, not even bothering to make eye-contact, "It seems you have a knack for crawling around the insides of walls and ceilings." The other bots look at the brown one. "So you have had more experience than just breaking out of prison?" Rodimus Prime asked. Rattletrap slapped his forehead. "Way to spoil everything," he sighed, "Yeah, I helped deactivate some traps when Autobot City was first transformed into this big body we're now in. Keep in mind though, it is not something that I wish to repeat." "We had no concept that it was," Wheeljack told him as he wrapped an arm around the smaller bot's neck and lead him towards the organic door, "But you're the only scout-thing we have right now."
"Lucky me..." Rattletrap said under his breath. Jazz and Rodimus looked at each other doubtfully. "Look, we wouldn't be asking you to do this if we had any other choice, believe me," Wheeljack told him, "Especially considering how little I think that you actually have these "sneaking skills", but not even Mudflap could break this slaggin' door down." "You want skills?" Rattletrap asked quietly at the insult, "Fine, I'll show you just what I can do! Where's the vent-opening?" Hearing a loud piercing sound, he and Wheeljack looked up. "There," Rodimus revealed from the arrow he'd torn a hole in the ceiling with.
Rattletrap gulped. He was suddenly regretting having agreed to the assignment. In fact...he regretted everything. He should have just stayed in jail back on Cybertron and minded his own business. He didn't hurt anyone. He didn't need to get involved. But no...he just had to be the good failure of a blackmailing Samaritan and helped Sentinel Prime out. He had no idea just what had gone through his processor later when he let Blitzwing, one of the most wanted Decepticons ever out. Oh, right, amnesty. The promise of having less bots to offline him. But now that might all have been for nothing if the rumored reports he'd heard of from the Nemesis were true.
"You need a boost?" Wheeljack asked. "I got it I got it," the brown Autobot grumbled. With a leap, he gripped the rim of the opening and hoisted himself upwards. He took one last look at the outside world and ventured in. Almost immediately he noticed something different from the previous time that he'd been in the ventilation shaft. There was air actually flowing through it. But it wasn't a normal flow. It was...shaky. It would blow for a few seconds then suck. And then the action was repeated. Figuring it to just be a feature that hadn't been active when he'd made his escape, Rattletrap crawled deeper in.
As he continued though, things only got stranger. At first it was just an annoyance. The darkness obscured his vision too much leaving him to rely on his other less-developed senses. He could feel an organic coating to the floor. "Must be above ol' Jug Head's room," Rattletrap figured. There was something wrong however. He wasn't falling through. It was nowhere near as unstable a floor as the previous time. After taking a few irritated whack at the floor with his fist, the brown Autobot finally turned on his headlights. "Oh my god..." He was looking right into an enormous eyeball...and it was looking back. The sight alone was enough to make him squirm, but direct connection with the pupil...was mind-numbing.
Forcing his head away from the floor, Rattletrap noticed something else. Lights. In the distance he could hear scurrying accompanying the odd fixtures as they neared. "Um...is...is someone there?" Rattletrap's voice quivered. Whatever it was, it was growing. Moving towards him. Bracing himself for even more of a horrific experience, his activated his brights. In the illuminated corridor, he could now see countless small techno-organic parasitic-looking creatures. And they were nearly at him. In a panic, the brown Autobot morphed into vehicle-mode and put his wheels in reverse. He knew he had no chance at outrunning them. But even at his maxmium-speed the little critters were gaining on him!
"Come on come on..." the rattly car urged himself, "Slag Primus! I don't wanna die!" He was almost too frightened to notice the longevity of the ventilation system. Rattletrap hadn't traversed nearly that far into the tunnels. Yet, there seemed to be no end to his retreat. A quiet plopping sound was heard. Hesitantly, his looked at the hood of his vehicle-mode. The beings had started to gather on it! And they were eating away at the metal! "Alright, I know what this is, it's punishment!" Rattletrap exclaimed. He was hysterical. He no longer cared about the surroundings. He didn't give a damn about the things that were destroying him. He was more focused on everything he'd done throughout his life. "Well guess what oh forces that be? You can bite my exhaust-port cause I ain't sorry about not-woah!"
The other Autobots leapt back as the brown vehicle smashed into the ground and toppled back into robot-mode. "Get it off me!" Rattletrap cried shaking his leg, "Get it the slag off me!" Calmly, Wheeljack bent over and peeled the strange organism off of Rattletrap's sizzling servo. "Did you find a way in?" Rodimus asked. "Oh yeah," Rattletrap laughed, "Just like how Blitzwing found out how to keep one emotion on him." Wheeljack sighed. "Sir! We need more bots up-yah!" The message to his com-link was cut short by a loud strike. He closed his optics. "Jazz, help them out up there," Wheeljack ordered. As the white vehicle sped away, he turned to the organic door once more. "Whatever's in there," Rattletrap told him, "Doesn't want anymore company than it already has."
Ratchet gulped as he passed through the doorway. The catwalk was exceedingly narrow and the only landing that could be seen was countless miles below. The sight of it made the old veteran's processor spin. From such a height he could view every pocket and formation of buildings that lined the interior of the enormous robot body. He was at its peak. The only thing that remained above him was the construction-site where the Headmaster Unit, Cerebros, was being worked on. And where he was was where it would be interlocked into Autobot City's mainframe upon its completion. The sole connection of the body to the head. That without which a body would just be a corpse.
But the height wasn't the only thing that worried the medic. In the center of the area, around the main core that comprised the support for the body, were bodies. There were about three of them. All of them Autotroopers. Guards. Then he heard a gag. Ratchet ran towards the central structure and spun around it. On the other side was another Autotrooper, as well as a familiar face. With a snapping sound, Oil Slick's servos broke the white and black Autobot's neck and he tossed him over the railing of the catwalk. Ratchet watched as the body fell silent and lifelessly. Its colors faded to gray, and ultimately the form drifted out of sight.
"I was wondering when you were gonna get here," Oil Slick muttered. He didn't turn around. He didn't need to to realize such an old acquaintance's presence. "What are you doing?" Ratchet questioned. "I'm pretty sure you know," Oil Slick answered, "Otherwise you wouldn't be here." The Decepticon looked at him. Ratchet gasped. All along Oil Slick's face ran green vein-like structures. His optics glowed bright red, brighter than any Cybertronian's he'd ever seen! "I thought you found a cure!" Ratchet exclaimed. Oil Slick smiled. "You really think that a few fragments could cure this amount of an infection?"
Ratchet looked towards the pillar in the center of the area. "Is it in there?" Oil Slick's smile widened. It was creepy to see the expression on his face. "If I just used the fragments to cure myself there'd be none left for the rest of this place." Ratchet's jaw dropped. "Perhaps you've forgotten just what this weapon was meant for!" he yelled at the darker figure, "It could destroy an entire planet!" Oil Slick's smile faded. "That's in theory," he reminded shakily. "Like slag it is!" Ratchet retorted taking a step forward, "You know just as well as I do what such a thing is capable of even with one fragment! It's not that hard to do the calculations even for a Protoform!"
For a second Ratchet thought he saw a flash of doubt pass through Oil Slick's optics. Just what was going on in his head? Was he simply not allowing himself to notice just what he was doing? Before he could reason with the Cyber-Ninja any further though, another came through the door Ratchet had with a platoon of Autotroopers behind him. "Freeze!" Jazz ordered. As Ratchet expected, the interruption reverted the insane Transformer's optics back to their consistent red hue. He didn't want to have to battle with the bot that he'd made such progress with. But he also wanted their race to survive to at least see the arrival of the dark god. "Sorry about this," Ratchet muttered to himself as he popped out his electromagnets. Oil Slick leapt at the group behind him and he took aim.
"I take it you missed us?" Sideways asked. There was no response. Perceptor just stared at the purple Transformer. Sideway's usual grin started to fade. "What? Your voice synthesizer been crushed? Believe me, I know how annoying it can be to have to communicate through other ways. Why one time I came across a young yellow bot that had to speak through his radio cause-" "No." Sideways stopped rambling. "So," he laughed, "You do still speak. I guess you'd have to considering the kind of ranking you obtained." Perceptor knew that the devious bot was eyeing the modified Autobot insignia on him. It was the sign that showed that he was part of the Autobot Council.
"Well, is that all you have to say?" Sideways grumbled slinging his arm around the other's neck, "No? That's it? No explanation or anything? Boy have you become a dull-heap. Not to worry though, I'm confident that a stellar cycle or twelve aboard Unicron'll snap you out of your new habits." "You did not ask for an explanation," Perceptor informed. The grin was forming. "Ah, wise-bot eh?" Sideways muttered, "I like a bit of sarcasm in my conversations." "I am not sarcastic," Perceptor told him robotically. The tips of Sideway's mouth dipped a bit at the declaration. "So you're telling me that I have to actually ask you specific things for you to answer?.."
Sideways frowned at the more intelligent Transformer's nod. He definitely had changed. "Alright then," Sideway's said a bit darkly, his grip on the bot's neck tightening, "What's up with you? Why are you all robotic and everything? I mean yeah, we're made of metal and stuff, but we're still living. You're just a machine it seems now." Perceptor glanced uneasily at the purple Transformer. He could see the two glowing red optics behind Sideway's visor. "Oh..." Sideways mused, his lips curling evilly, "Oh, so that's why you've castrated yourself from the luxurious drama that everyone else is constantly dousing themselves in...how pleasant."
Perceptor didn't respond. It wasn't because he didn't calculate that he should. Rather, he felt something...strange about the situation. On the edge of his processor was creeping a new kind of excitement. Something...alien to him. "Well, if you no longer use such pitiful aspects as emotions, I must ask this. Are you not scared of me?" Perceptor noticed the darkness that accompanied that final word. The glow of the red optics intensified. That must have been it. Fear. That was what had been trying to gnaw its way into Perceptor's Spark. The insatiable terror that such a being would influence simply from even being in viewing range of anything else. As if the shifting of the room to its nightmarish form it now took wasn't enticing enough, the dark god himself now presented his essence to the Autobot.
"No," Perceptor replied. The red optics blinked. That answer had never been given before, especially not in such a serious manner. "You...don't fear me?" the voice asked. "I gave my response, and you heard it," the red bot's stale voice insisted, "I calculate that it is an impossibility for you to have misunderstood what I spoke." For a moment there was silence. Not just from Sideway's mouth, but from the room. The very chamber itself seemed to have slowed. Its pulsing dampened and the sheer terrifying atmosphere filtered a bit. The situation was...unusual to say the least. What had been confidence was now tamed by curiosity.
"Well, I suppose that one without emotions can't be expected to lay witness to fear," Sideways chuckled, his voice now returning to him, "But without emotions, you're just a computer...a very...impactful computer. And you do work for us do you not?" Perceptor shook his head. Sideway's peered at the Autobot. Was he playing some kind of game? "Tell me, has your memory log of that day been deleted from your data-tracks?" the dark voice returned. Again Perceptor's head shook. The red optics tightened. "Then why did you assist?"
Perceptor looked at the optics again. It gave them an odd sensation. What they saw beneath the blue ones of the converser were new to them. What they were seeing was someone that did not have fear. Someone that their owner couldn't impose fright upon. Couldn't intimidate. "The reason I assisted you was to save my friend," Perceptor informed. Friend. That word drove a spear through the evil entity's mentality. It was already infuriating enough that such a subject held nothing but confusion for the being, but the Autobot's personality didn't even add up to that kind of conclusion. He shouldn't be using the word.
"What do you mean when you say friend?" the voice uttered, "I came to believe that you don't have emotions." "I do not," Perceptor told him, "But it is because of that friend that I do not. It is because of that event, because of you that I do not." He could feel the intrigued nature of the essence with the new information he gave. "How did that expunge your feelings?" the voice asked. "On that day," Perceptor said quietly, "Once Wheeljack had gotten back safely...I was to blame. For everything. You knowing about Cybertron. Dooming this reality. I made it my goal to see to it that such a fate as the one that so many others have fallen to would not encompass the universe. Emotions would have gotten in the way of such a goal. But then, I guess emotions are needed to make decisions."
The optics illuminated the green plating of Perceptor's arm. "Surely you must have known that it was impossible to stop a being such as I from accomplishing my destiny," Unicron uttered, Sideway's free hand holding up a display of the omnivorous planet descending upon a prey. Perceptor nodded. "That is why we got rid of the Allspark." The dark god's interest had reached its peak. "So that you would not do away with that which held hope." "But without it your race would have no chance against me..." Unicron stated. "That is not of concern," Perceptor told him, "As long as it is out there, it will find a way to orchestrate a means against you. And had it willed it, we would have not been able to do as we had. Just as I was not able to do away with its new form."
"The Allspark is on this planet?" Unicron muttered, "That is a fact?" "Yes." The glow of the optics began to dim. "You have been very useful," the voice congratulated, Sideway's beginning to retake the body, "But the question remains. Will you join us?" Perceptor stared at the visor. The redness could still be seen. "The only other option...well, that's obvious with what position you're in." Silence swept through the room again. Perceptor thought. "It's only logical..." Sideways insisted. "I will never serve such a monster," Perceptor announced. The purple Transformer frowned. "Is that your final decision? No one will ever know what you were like in your final moments. They will never realize how vainly noble you were in the end..." Perceptor nodded.
"Are you sure we're headed to the right place?" Bulkhead asked, "I mean the top of the City's way up the-" "Dude, it's Sari. When is she wrong?...other than when saying she's better at video games?" The girl folded her arms inside the talkative yellow car and gave a loud huff at the joking. Her closed eyes didn't allow her to see the high-five that the two vehicles gave each other as they morphed their arms back into robot-mode. Currently, the party was headed along the winding corridors of the main tower of Autobot City's interior. Even at the height they'd achieved, it was still a ways to go before they'd reach the peak of the society. Sari wasn't blind though. There was something that she could make out. On the back of her eyelids she noticed the lights of the objects racing past in the outside world dancing. It was like the vision that had taken place earlier that day. Only now there was something amiss.
As had previously occurred, the light and dark spectrum divided itself into two different groups, the contrast between them and indescribable sensation. But they didn't meet. They just stayed in place alongside each other. Every so often one would ripple causing the other to feel the affects, but neither threatened the other. It was almost as if they were talking. Then it faded. The coloring of light retained its original hue. But something else tugged at her. A heavy anchor tugged at her heart. But it wasn't just her's. The very Spark of Primus itself felt the weight. "Stop," Sari ordered popping her eyes open. The two vehicles did as they were told.
"Sari, there's no Burger Bot around here or anything," Bumblebee pointed out. "Yeah," Bulkhead said, "What else do you need to do other than fuel-up if we're making a pit stop?" "We're going down," Sari told them. The two larger beings gave odd looks to each other through their windows. "Sari, are you sure you're feeling alright?" the yellow one questioned, "First you have us going up, now you have us going down...can you please stick with one option?" "The smoke was coming from the top of the City," Bulkhead reminded. "Primus wants us to go down," Sari insisted. Bulkhead and Bumblebee were silent. "Down it is then," Bumblebee eventually stated. The two vehicles changed their course of direction.
"Damn it!" Sideway's voice echoed through the large organic-looking chamber. A few nearby Decepticons turned their attention to him. His vicious glare was all it took to retreat them back to their trivial tasks. "Is something bothering the dear puppet master?" a more grainy voice chuckled. "Shut it," Sideways muttered to Starscream. "Oh come now," the lean bot laughed wrapping an arm around the purple one's neck, "we all have our bad days. Just let it all out. I got time for a story." SCHRINK! The Decepticon looked down at where the blade had sunk into his torso. "You may not be able to be killed," Sideways growled as he yanked the weapon back out, "But it sure as hell makes me feel better."
"Just cause I'm immortal doesn't mean I don't feel pain," Starscream coughed while his hand rubbed the wound. Sideways smiled at him. "Even better." The clone body cursed something under his breath and rolled its optics. Just then he noticed something. The metal object Sideways was holding was drenched in oil. "Had to take care of a little...error today," Sideways muttered upon noticing the eyeing Decepticon, "Almost had this reality's Cybertronian race under Unicron's thumb too." "Oh I'm sure," came a darker voice. Both Sideways and Starscream looked to the newcomer. "Just like I have so many times before correct?" Galvatron mused. Sideways grinned as the dark lord trembled to the ground.
"You sure have some Spark to pick on the dark god of chaos," Sideways chuckled. He gave Galvatron's crown a pat to which the more imposing figure hissed. "Impressed?" Sideways asked Starscream. The clone smiled at the sight of the agonized Decepticon leader. "I...was going to tell you something..." Galvatron managed through grunts. Intruiged at what such a pitiful form would have to entertain his senses with in such a time of hate, Sideways let up on Unicron's connection to him. Panting, Galvatron stood up. "Your little...pet would not give into anything." "This day just gets better and better," Sideways sighed.
Starscream and Galvatron were a bit surprised at the exit the Transformer chose. Instead of just walking away, he melted straight into the floor of the chamber. "No matter how much I've gone through," the raspy voice muttered, "No bot has ever creeped me out more than him." "That must be a compliment coming from one such as yourself," Galvatron added. Starscream looked at the leader. Galvatron almost flinched as he put his hand on his shoulder. "Please oh great and might ruler," Starscream attempted to converse, a sly smile on his face, "you know me not. I come from a different realm-" "Yet you still bear the same title," Galvatron reminded squeezing the servo, "And you still tried to offline me back on Earth. I have had my fair share of Starscreams already; and from my experience with you, you had just better stay out of my way."
A crack echoed across the upper region of the interior of the city-sized robot body. Jazz didn't have time to nurse the injury that had just been inflicted on his jaw from his opponent's foot. Oil Slick was ready to strike again. This time though, his target was not the Cyber-Ninja. Instead, he gripped one of the Autotroopers by the foot and gave a sharp yank. The Transformer was flung around helplessly by the insane Decepticon's hand. Anyone within a good ten feet of the bot was thrown back, some of them dropping over the railing of the catwalk. Sensing the oncoming collision, Jazz ducked beneath the body of the Autotrooper and snapped his foot into the other Cyber-Ninja's side. Oil Slick grunted and fell. The Autotrooper he'd been using as a weapon was expelled through the door they'd come from.
Jazz could feel his Spark freeze from the evil look that the lethal Transformer gave him. Out of the corner of his visor, Jazz could also make out Ratchet who was rapidly typing away at the console to the main core of Autobot City. It hadn't taken long for the medic to be downed by the much more experienced fighter. Ever since then Jazz and the others had made it their priority to protect the veteran as he worked. But he didn't know how long he'd be able to keep it up. He may have been part of the Elite Guard, but he had nowhere near the experience that Oil Slick or Ratchet had. Jazz wasn't about to give up though.
Oil Slick got back to his feet. The wound he'd felt had been healed remarkably fast. Yelling angrily, he dashed at Jazz. The white-colored Autobot performed the same action in his direction as his nun chucks popped into his hands. The two met and Jazz made a swipe. "Slag," he muttered. The weapons had missed the lankier figure. As fast as he could, the Cyber-Ninja whirled around and started another charge. He could now see that Oil Slick had armed himself with a pipe that he'd snapped off of the core module and was twirling it as he approached. His face was grim. It was filled with a devilish determination.
Again the two Ninjas collided. This time Jazz's attack hit something. It was the cylindrical weapon that Oil Slick had acquired. Not wasting any time, Jazz took a swing with his other nun chuck. This time it was directed at his back. Again the pole was what it met. Oil Slick had bent the weapon over his head and, upon the other's strike, he swiped his feet under Jazz's. The sane Cyber-Ninja dropped to the ground and rolled to avoid the next motion. Furious, Oil Slick pulled his servo out of the ground where Jazz's throat had been moments ago and threw the pipe at him. It was a simple matter for Jazz to dispose of the projectile.
"Got it!" Rathet exlaimed. Both Cyber-Ninja's looked at the medic as the circular structure dropped into his hands. By the time Jazz started running, Oil Slick was already at Ratchet's heels. "Put it back!" he screamed. The medic held his EMP Generator to the Decepticon's face. It wasn't needed for the moment however. Before he could reach the Autobot, Oil Slick tripped. One of Jazz's nun chucks had been thrown and wrapped around the other bot's feet restraining him. "We need to purge the City!" Oil Slick insisted. All the while he was struggling towards Ratchet. "That's Unicron talking," Ratchet told him, "Look, I know you're still in there. Even though we haven't always been the best of buds I know that you mean well. Just think for Primus' sake!"
Oil Slick's optics went wide. For a second they faded back to their normal green hue. "Stop me," he choked. As they switched back to red, his feet split the nun chucks and knocked the wind out of the other Cyber-Ninja. In less than a second his hands were around Ratchet's throat. The two veterans stumbled around violently on the catwalk. Neither would let up. The bomb remained in Ratchet's clutches. That is until another thought crossed the evil one's consciousness. It only took one slam against the railing of the catwalk for the bomb to drop out of Ratchet's hands. "No!" he cried. His emotions taking hold, the old bot shook his adversary off and made a leap for the rolling weapon.
It was too late. The Core Bomb rolled over the edge of the catwalk. It dropped towards the bottom of Autobot City. Wide-eyed, Ratchet looked Oil Slick. He expected the evil grin on his face-plates to be the last thing he ever saw. But no explosion occurred. There wasn't even a puff of smoke rising from where the Core Bomb had fallen. Curiously, bot Ratchet and Oil Slick took a look over the edge. The Core Bomb was still there! It was...floating. The annoying hum that ensued turned Oil Slick's attention towards the bot it was coming from. Jazz was sitting cross-legged next to the core of the city, his mouth shut and his head bent in focus. "And here I thought that bots in this reality hadn't learned of these dumb tricks," a dark voice uttered from Oil Slick. Before he could reach the other Cyber-Ninja he dropped to the ground. Ratchet's EMP Generator was smoking from the energy it'd given off.
Bulkhead and Bumblebee skidded to a halt and morphed into robot-mode. "You didn't say there'd be other bots down here," Bumblebee muttered to the girl on his shoulder, "as if these halls weren't threatening feeling already..." Though he was no longer in charge, the form of Rodimus Prime still unnerved the younger bots. It may not have been entirely his fault what had befallen the Cybertronian civilization, but it was through him that Perceptor had nearly handed victory over to Unicron on a silver platter. That itself left an impression on the once-promising Autobot Academy operative.
"I didn't know anyone other than my observer was here," a calm voice spoke from the female's mouth. "Observer?" Bumblebee repeated. "You mean him?" Bulkhead asked pointing to a tall figure. To the left of Rattletrap stood the holy form of Vector Prime. Sari's head nodded. "So yeah, I'm pretty sure that I'm questioning accepting the offer," the brown Autobot grunted to him. Rattletrap seemed to be the one least affected by the presence of the noble Transformer. "Be that as it may, what is done can not be undone," Vector Prime told him. Rattletrap's optics lit as Vector Prime put a hand on his shoulder, "You were most noble today."
"Well hey, you know..." Rattletrap murmured, "Just uh...keeping the peace, hehe...but don't expect me to ever go crawling around in vents ever again!" At that Vector Prime laughed and waved to the fuming Autobot as he stomped towards the wall and leaned against it. "Bitter much?" Bumblebee said quietly as his group approached the scene. "He has potential," the calm voice assured from Sari's mouth. "Well, ignoring ol' pissy boy, what all's exactly going on here?" "An arrest?" Bulkhead suggested. Confused as to why he would assume such a thing, Bumblebee and Sari looked to where he was pointing. On the ground behind Rodimus was Firestar with stasis-cuffs restraining her wrists.
"She is not to blame," the voice informed. Noticing the presence within the girl, Rodimus Prime bowed. If he could blush he would have at the shame he was feeling for what acts he had participated in prior to the revelation of the Cybertronian god. "It feels nice to have respect," Bumblebee laughed patting his chest-plate triumphantly. Bulkhead shook his head in embarrassment and turned his sights to a new figure. Emerging from the organic-looking door was the dreary form of the normally ecstatic crackpot inventor, Wheeljack. The look he gave to Vector Prime said all that was needed. "I am sorry," the ancient Autobot told him.
"As am I," Primus apologized. Wheeljack's expression didn't so much change as it added another layer to its downed demeanor upon noticing the newcomers. "No need to be," Wheeljack sighed, "Me and him both knew the dangerous game he was playing." "Perhaps so," Sari's mouth agreed, "But that doesn't mean others weren't involved. He and you were both just more pieces in the endless ocean of characters that fuel the line between me and my brother. I will tell you though that he was good." At that declaration, Wheeljack almost laughed. "Yeah, good enough to bring attention to the dark god of-"
"You know your friend better than that," the voice told him, "What he did back then was the right thing. And what he did today was no different. There is no stopping my brother from finding my body; there is only merely prolonging the inevitable." Wheeljack was confused. "But...he's the reason why you were driven from Cybertron." "Something that needed to take place," the voice retorted, "For without such actions I would have never ended up amongst those that needed to participate the most. Your friend may have passed on to the Well of Allsparks, but whatever he did was with a meaning. His demise was no different."
"Then our guess was correct?" Vector Prime asked. With a touch of sadness to it, Sari's head nodded. Vector Prime's face fell. "What are you talking about?" Bumblebee asked, "You know that I hate when people leave me out of the loop." The voice chuckled and Sari's hand patted him. Bumblebee's optic twitched in annoyance. "I believe that would best be answered by your prisoner," the voice told Wheeljack. With a snap of its finger, Firestar's cuffs dropped off her. Though a bit shocked at the action, she stood up. Rodimus Prime had his bow ready to strike should anything get out of hand.
"Well thanks for releasing me, but I'm just as confused as anyone else here," Firestar told the presence. The voice sighed. "The reason that you were sent to the Nemesis was not because of any expertise you might have had," Vector Prime revealed, "Rather, it was due to your origins." Firestar cocked a brow. "Upon Oil Slick's return we assigned the robotic prisoner Perceptor to decode some of the more complex information that was retrieved due to his experience with coming in contact with similar strands during the discovery of Unicron when he brought Wheeljack back to Cybertron," the voice informed. Wheeljack's optics expanded. "Are you telling me...you set Perceptor up to get killed!"
"Isn't that a good thing?" Bumblebee whispered to Bulkhead. "Slag if I know," the green Autobot shrugged, "I can barely keep up with what's going on anymore, and I'm a Space Bridge genius." Sari's head tilted downwards. "I do not expect you to approve of the actions that were taken," the calm voice said, "But you must understand. Perceptor expected what would happen. He was the one that recommended Firestar. No matter what his actions might have said of him, Perceptor was a genius." "So...what all do you want to know from me?" Firestar persisted, "I just got infected on the Nemesis and...wait, what about Flareup! What-" She quieted at the look Sari's eyes gave her. "No..." Firestar said quietly.
"You got infected on the Nemesis," the voice emphasized, "No one else. They may have felt the affects as was the case with Oil Slick, but you were the one that it fully transferred to to make its way towards Perceptor and in turn the Oracle Chamber. Why do you think that was?" Firestar blinked. "Sideways," she gasped, "he...he had the same universal coding as I did." "Alright, hold up!" Bumblebee yelled, "Translate this to us bots that aren't interdimensional nerds! What the slag's a universal coding?" "It is the information that dictates what universe a being is from," Vector Prime explained, "every single being has it. Due to the identical coding between Firestar and Sideways though, it allowed Sideway's consciousness to transfer into her body and wreak the havoc that it did today."
The group remained quiet for a while. The information was simply too much to take in all at once. "So this was all just to pinpoint where exactly that bastard was from?" Wheeljack muttered. "Yes," Primus and Vector Prime said together. "Why did you want to know that?" "To confirm if our worries were justified or not," Vector Prime told him. "Were they?" Rodimus Prime asked. "Unfortunately," Sari's mouth responded, "But with Perceptor gone dies the final traces of the old governing of Cybertron. It is now time to bring about what is intended to be the ruling of your race. Vector Prime, please retrieve Ratchet, Jazz, and Oil Slick from the top of Autobot City. They should join us for this."
"What's got you all worked up?" Strika asked. Exhausted, she dropped the enormous amount of a equipment she'd been assigned to take to another chamber of the dark god. She'd had enough work for a few billion solar cycles that's for sure. "Usually you're the one that's the calmest, what with the Darkest Hour always on the brink of your processor and all," she yawned, "Though that does keep you more focused than, say, Spittor. Never did thank you for letting us in on just what our opponents would do in the battle at the Space Bridge that one time. Rodimus' team never knew what was coming. But I really am curious. Just how did you plan everything so perfectly?"
Cyclonus allowed a few seconds to pass before speaking. His optics were fixated on the crippled figure dangling before him. "I believe this Transformer might have the answers," he told her. Strika looked at the blocky Starscream body. It disturbed her to say the least. Oil constantly leaking from his broken joints, circuits dangling out of the incisions in his form. Such injuries would have any other bot offline. But for some reason his Spark remained undamaged. He was in a constant state of living through the tortures he was forced to endure. Strika cringed as the body spasmed about from a surge of electricity that his organic bindings sent through him. A bit confused, but more discomforted by the scene, she gave her only remaining partner a confused glance and shook her head. "Well either way," she muttered, "Thanks."
"You guys can hug and kiss later. Right now you have work to do," a rather disgusted voice grumbled. Strika was shocked to see Sideways walk past her. She could have sworn he hadn't been there when she set her equipment down. "I said you have work to do," the purple Transformer muttered in a lower tone. His head turned to her. The seriousness of his expression bit at her Spark while his hand revealed his oil-splattered dagger. "Or do you need more convincing?" Instantly, Strika's luggage was hoisted back onto her shoulder. After seeing to the departure of the large female, Sideways approached the rim of the hole that Starscream was suspended over.
"Out of the way emo," the avatar spat pushing Cyclonus to the side. Unphazed by the gesture, Cyclonus simply watched. Sideways came to eye-level with the larger winged Transformer. "You," he hissed. With an unbreakable grip, he grabbed Starscream's neck and pulled his face to his. He could practically smell the oil leaking out of his mouth. "I've had yet another chance at bringing this reality toppling head over heals to its doom blown. I've had to offline what would have been the most influential affiliate we'd have ever had here. And now I come back to find that you still won't give in! Why the bloody hell won't you break!"
For a moment he thought he heard something. It was quiet, but it had come from the tortured bot. "I'm sorry?" Sideways muttered. "It's because of you," he heard the form wheeze painfully. Sideway's expression darkened. "I'm not in the mood for riddles and you're not in the position to make em," he growled, "What the hell are you talking about?" "You," Starscream chuckled through his coughs, "You're the one that did this. If it wasn't...wasn't for you I'd have never gone through what I...did. You gave me the push I needed when you convinced me of the Starsaber." Sideways had had more than enough.
Cyclonus' jumped a little as he heard the loud explosion. It was almost as though he felt the action done to himself. An emotion of pleasure finally made its way across the evil being's face-plates as he pulled his arm cannon away from the Transformer's torso. Smoke climbed from Starscream's back. "Well, I'll be sure not to make such a potentially disastrous error again then," he said evilly. After giving a punch to the battered bot's face, Sideways turned to Cyclonus. His attention only turned to the insane creature's once Starscream had been lowered out of sight.
"Something got your circuits in a jumble darky?" Sideways asked happily. Cyclonus blinked. "It's...nothing," he replied quietly, "It just feels...familiar." Sideways chuckled. "Really?" he laughed, "taking heat out on a prisoner in this place feels familiar? What other startling revelations have you made oh forgetful Galvatron fanboy? Do you also not remember that Sharkticons swim through this place's caverns? Or how's about the pinching tentacles? Oh and let's not forget to forget ol' unholy fire-boy himself, the Fall-" "It's not that," Cyclonus sighed, "It's just...his position, his...state. It feels like...it happened to me." The sarcasm was now replaced by realization. "Really?" Sideways questioned. His optics glowed red as his smile widened, "interesting..."
"YAH!" the two Transformers screamed. Hot Shot huddled behind his bed in fright of the newcomer. Likewise, Skywarp did the same in fear of the replacement. "Wh-what'd you do to Arcee?..." the purple Seeker quivered. "Ar...Arcee?" Hot Shot repeated. He had heard the name before, but he didn't know the bot it belonged to personally. "Y-you can't f...f...fool me," Skywarp forced a more defensive response, "She's been here for the past few weeks!" Hot Shot blinked. Slowly he lifted one of his welding-servos up past the sheets of the bed. If they were hit he'd at least have minimal damage to work with in the ensuing conflict. Nothing happened though. In fact, the Decepticon was nowhere to be seen once he'd worked up the courage to raise his head.
"Please put away your weapon," the voice gulped, "I'm really not afraid to call security...really..." "Security?" Hot Shot muttered, "You're a Decepticon!" "I was told that Autobots and Decepticons don't matter anymore as titles," Skywarp informed. He peaked around the corner. He was just as confused as the blue-armored youngster. "Oh right, some of you creeps, er, cons are working with us now," Hot Shot remembered. Finally understanding the situation, Hot Shot lifted the bed back up while Skywarp inched into the room, caution never leaving him. "I'm really sorry for disturbing you sir," Skywarp hesitated upon seeing Hot Shot lean against the correctly propped furniture piece, "I'm just worried about my friend is all."
"Eh, forget about it," Hot Shot shrugged. Skywarp gulped. "Forget about Arcee?" he gasped. Hot Shot blinked for a second and smacked his forehead, "No silly, forget about the apology. I didn't realize what was going on." "Oh," Skywarp mumbled. His optics went to the ground and his foot kicked the floor bashfully. "Sorry." Hot Shot blinked a few more times. "I said you don't have to apologize." "Right right," Skywarp laughed nervously, "Sorry." Hot Shot sighed. Skywarp was about to speak again before realizing the pattern he had formed. "You don't have to be sorry about everything," Hot Shot told him. "I guess..." Skywarp said, "So-" He jumped as Hot Shot's hand clamped around his mouth.
"Much better," the Autobot said with a smile, "Now about your Arcee person, they were probably just moved somewhere else in the medical center. This place is where I woke up today. I was a captive of Galvatron until that attack thingy on the moon happened." Skywarp's eyes widened. "You were a prisoner of...Galvatron?" Hot Shot smiled and rubbed his chest-plate, "Well I don't like to brag..." "Why aren't you dead?" Skywarp exclaimed, "Galvatron's the most scary Decepticon there's ever been!" Hot Shot's teeth ran along his lower lip. "Well, I guess I didn't really come face to face with the giant purple protoform eater," Hot Shot confessed.
"That explains why you're still online," Skywarp reasoned. He put his hands in front of him at the distasteful look Hot Shot gave. "Sor-er-not sorry?" Hot Shot smiled doubtfully. "Either way, gotta respect a leader like him," the Autobot, "With how much you apologize, you'd probably be eternally sorry if you ever rejoined him." Skywarp's brows bent inward. "Relax," Hot Shot laughed, "It's not like anyone here'd ever rejoin that tyrant." The purple Decepticon gestured a hesitant nod. The newcomer was almost as fun to mess with as the cadets in Boot Camp. "If you ever were to rejoin him though, here's how you'd take out me, Mudflap, Brawn, and Rodimus..." Hot Shot joked.
-end of chapter-
Well, that looks like it might be it for Kup and Flareup eh? Definately the end of Perceptor. But what a way to go, absorbed through your best friend or some chick that you'd never even met before. And there was nothing Firestar could do about it. How nice. But what is Primus getting the group together for exactly? One thing's for sure, Sideways is pissed.
For those that didn't catch the references however, those parasite things that clung to Rattletrap were those ones from Armada towards the linking portal between Cybertron and Unicron. The other thing was Rattletrap's "keeping the peace" line from Beast Wars when Rattletrap goes off against Waspinator during the Predacon Maximal "treaty" at the end of Season 1. Other than that, see if you can spot any yourself.
Art time:
warahi(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/Logical-Conclusion-183338329?q=sort%3Atime+gallery%3Awarahi&qo=2
warahi(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/Welcoming-The-New-Resident-183661710?q=sort%3Atime+gallery%3Awarahi&qo=0