A/N: O O F, so this chapter was a slog to write, and was taking wayyyy too long, so I've decided to split it in two so that you guys have an update sooner rather than later.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and on with the show...
Stalking down the passageway between his palace and Perceptor's laboratory, Optimus Prime couldn't get his head on right for the life of him. Ever since Primus, the real Primus had revealed himself, he had felt nothing but warmth and welcome from the Matrix, unlike the stinging, painful cold he felt when he first bonded with the ancient relic. But now, some way or another, the false Primus, the cold one, had lodged themselves deep within his own mind.
"But you cannot be rid of me, Optimus Prime. I made you all that you are today."
"You made me into nothing but a monster!" he screams internally at the voice inside his head, lest he allow his subordinates to think he had gone mad by speaking aloud to himself.
"But was it not I who filled you with confidence and power, helped you in your darkest hour-"
"The only darkness there is, is the shadow you keep me under. I'll find a way to get you out of my head, with or without anyone's help-" He lurched forwards, catching his balance just before he fell, hearing the crashing of something on the floor. Coming back to himself, he saw a masked purple jet-former on the ground, and a crate of supplies spilled out.
"F-forgive me, lord Optimus. I must not have been paying attention where I was stepping." they stammered, cowering before the large Prime, quickly gathering up what had fallen.
"No, I am the one who is sorry." Optimus said, and the room went silent as Perceptor and his lab staff stared agape as Optimus Prime, the great conqueror of Cybertron and it's colony worlds, knelt down and helped someone.
"Forgive me, I have seen you around, but I do not know your name," Optimus said, handing over some tools.
"Brainstorm, your lordship. Co-Chief engineer of the Lost Light."
"Ah, you so are the clever mech Rodimus tells me about," he said, as he gently grabbed Brainstorm and helped him up. "I must say, I am very impressed with the amount of work you have done in helping not just him, but the Autobots as a whole."
Brainstorm hung their head, not daring to make optic contact. "Of course sir, we're all in this together, as you once said."
"Oh don't be like that Brainstorm," a large mech said, coming over and giving them a friendly pat on the back. "He's a humble one, lord Optimus, but don't let that fool you. He's one of the finest weaponsmiths in your army, too. Made plenty of excellent tools of war for us Wreckers."
"Ah, Springer. I take it that you are ready for your mission?"
"Yes, the mission to kill that fool Megatron, and finish what we started."
"Yessir, locked and loaded to lay waste to the 'Cons and those fleshy critters that have taken them in."
"Don't be so hasty for a slaughter. Your mission is to aim for the Decepticons, in secrecy I might add."
"What are you doing? Have him kill them all! It's the only way to victory, and you know it!"
"Of course sir, I just don't see a need to keep these 'humans' alive, that's all." Springer said, in a look of confusion.
"There are some who would serve us, as we are already backing native insurgent groups to destabilize their governments, which will make our conquest that much easier."
"And even if they do not succeed, they can be made an example of what happens to those who do not submit to the Autobots," Optimus unwittingly added on, realising he let his grasp on the cold one slip.
"Understood sir, 'necessary' casualties only." Springer said, evident that he would be making liberal use of what was and wasn't necessary, making his way over to the teleportation pod Brainstorm had left through moments ago.
"And Springer," Optimus said, the talented Wrecker turning back to the warlord. "You have served me well over the eons, I will give you a pass should you fail at killing any of the Decepticon high command, so long as maximum possible damage is inflicted upon them."
Springer bowed, and grinned in glee. "Rest assured my lord, maximum damage is the Wrecker specialty."
On the other side of the teleportation, after clearing his processor of the fogginess inflicted by it, he saw Brainstorm busy sorting the supplies he had carried over, whilst another bot was patching up a distinctly fist-sized hole in the laboratory wall, and Prowl sat in a chair, clearly in a bored state as he was reading a datapad, clearly having been waiting for him to arrive.
"Well gee, seems I got the whole welcoming committee. Truly, I'm honoured." Springer said, sluggishly stepping out of the pod.
"Welcome aboard the Lost Light, Springer." Brainstorm said as he walked over.
"Nice to finally be in the nuthouse I've heard you speak so much about. And just who might this be?" He said, pointing to the femme welding shut the hole in the wall.
"That would be Nautica, fellow engineer here. We are pretty much a package deal."
"Yeah, that's one way of putting it," she yelled over the loud sparking of her welds, only to have Brainstorm reach over and turn off the device in her hands.
"Who's the crazed bot who punched that hole?" Springer asked.
"Magnus," Prowl spoke up. "I was on my way down here to go over protocol with you, and saw his oversized fist go through the wall before he left in a huff."
"Ugh, a damn shame he hasn't done us all a favor and thrown himself off a cliff yet."
"Yes well, I'm sure you want to rejoin the other rowdy thugs you all Wreckers, so follow me," Prowl said, as he led him out of the lab and down the hall to the nearest turbolift. Once they were inside, he leaned close to Prowl. "Any bugs in this thing?" he whispered.
"Only the ones I planted myself. What itel do you have?" Prowl asked, an optic ridge raised. Springer reached into his subspace, and handed over a datapad with the word "CLASSIFIED" as the startup image, and was captivated by every word.
"So, I take it this came-"
"Straight from the Prime himself. I'll be passing the info along to the other Wreckers as well, or at the very least, the ones who I know respect the memory of Impactor enough to carry out this order."
"Heh, I bet even the ones who detested him would have no qualms with taking out Magnus. Thank you, I'll start my preparations as soon as I can."
"Really? I thought you of all mechs would'a been prepared for whenever the kill order came in."
"Yes, but the way lord Optimus has been sending me intel, he wanted Magnus alive long enough to learn something, and he clearly didn't get it."
As the turbolift doors opened, Prowl gave final directions to Swerve's, and went off on his own elsewhere, leaving Springer on his own.
. . . . .
Walking into Swerve's, Springer encountered a sight so unsurprising that it was getting a bit old at this point. A bar fight, with the Wreckers at the centre of it all. More specifically, that lunatic ex-cyber ninja Whirl facing down against slightly less insane Arcee and Rodimus. What he did not expect however, was that Arcee seemed to be acting as a shield over-
Oh no, Whirl had finally taken it too far. Because there, cowering on the floor next to the bar, Bumblebee for his life, and bloodlust in his brother's optics.
He could see Bulkhead and Ironfist trying to hold Whirl back, but he kept edging forwards bit by bit, whilst Rodimus had his flares out, and Arcee had her rifle aimed right at Whirl's head. They were yelling at each other, but he couldn't make out what it was over the noise.
Stepping forward through the crowd, the bots watching in awe didn't even notice the legendary Wrecker among them. Not until he stepped up behind Bulkhead, giving him a tap on the shoulder, and giving the two a nod. By now, the two guarding Bumblebee had noticed what was about to happen.
Taking a page out of that afthat Prowl's book, Springer reached for the nearest table, and a big one no less, and raised it over his head.
Thankfully, Bulkhead and Ironfist managed to get away before the big metal slab came crashing down, flattening the deranged copter-former to the ground.
The bar was dead silent for only a moment, when...
"WHO the FRAG thinks they can get away with-" Whirl shrieked, as they pushed the table off themselves, and threw a wayward punch as they turned to face their assailant.
Their claw was caught, and Springer's other hand was used to grab him by the neck, lifting him up, and in a similar fashion, crashing him down onto the aforementioned table.
"Ohohoho, Springer. Looks like somebody grew a spinal-strut and came back. Or are you not even here for the Wreckers?" he taunted up at the large now-phase-sixer. Springer slammed him down once more, and slung Whirl over his shoulder.
"Oh no, Whirly-bird. You and I are gonna have ourselves a little talk," Springer almost growled at him, as he dragged him out of the bar.
It was another 30 or so minutes later when he came back to the bar, covered in energon and internal fluids, and went up to the bar. Unexpectedly, the gathered bots suddenly cheered for him. He even felt a small mech come up hug him, the least expected thing Springer thought had ever happened to him.
*Thank you so much,* Bumblebee chirped, as he sat on the stool next to him.
"Eh, it was nothing kid. I know how much of a pain Whirl has been to everyone who meets him, I just havent been around to deal with him."
"And thank you again for doing so," Rodimus said, stepping up to the bar and ordering another drink. "I think that if it had gone any further, I would have burned the whole ship down trying to get him."
"Heh, I believe it, too. So, what did the afthead do to hurt Bee here?"
*I was just chatting with Rodimus, and I saw Whirl and Arcee bump into each other at the bar, and things started to get tense, so I tried de-escalating the situation… that, uh, didn't go so well.* the young bot buzzed meekly.
"So, did you kill whirl? I'd have asked for you to do so, but he's actually not a bad soldier whenever he isn't being a slightly more insane version of Magnus."
"Nah, just threw him out an airlock and had Prowl lock the exits. Give 'em a few hours, should be long enough for him to cool off a bit." Springer said, taking his drink as Swerve handed it to him. Swiftly stepped his way across the bar, he reached the booth in the far corner near to the door, where he received the loudest reception of all from the gathered Wreckers.
"About time you showed up, big bot," Wheeljack said, scooting over so he could sit down. "And I do mean big. Look at ya'! What happened?" Gesturing to Springer's new body.
"Heh, just some upgrades to better lay out the 'Cons."
"Is this your official rejoining of the Wreckers, Springer?" Ironfist asked.
"Sadly, it ain't. Not yet, anyways, but soon." Springer said. "For now, I'm on a mission from the Prime himself to root out the Decepti-creeps down planetside. You boys wouldn't happen to know of anyone up for it, now would ya?" he said with a deep chuckle, as the other Wreckers got him up to speed with the situation on Earth, and started drawing up plans.
To the credit of his compatriots' devious ideas, Springer almost felt sorry for the Decepticons.
Almost.
Nobody had been ready for the attack. Not the human soldiers stationed at the remote research base, or the response team that Skyquake led when the report of an Autobot attack came in. Once the team of a few dozen Vehicons drove out of the ground bridge, they were faced with a vast complex on fire, and the Wreckers at the center of it all, basking in the destruction.
Skyquake and the rest of Squadron X were no strangers to the Wreckers' particular fondness for excessive violence, but even he was impressed by the carnage wrought.
The worst of it was; they're company seemed to have been expected.
Hidden explosives detonated one by one, catching the Decepticons off guard, as the Wreckers pushed in for their attack. Row by row, his soldiers fell around him, and Skyquake hadn't even realised until there were less than twenty of them left, that it was just one mech alone doing this to them, the other Wreckers merely watching from close by, encircling them so there was no escape from this total slaughter. Energon and wires spilled out across the ground, and splattered onto the already desecrated corpses.
A fusion shot went through the spark of one soldier, and nearly took him offline as well as the round buried itself into his chest, as he dropped to his knees. From the smoke and ash, the lone attacker stepped forth, a sick smug look on their face near instantly recognizable.
Springer lifted him by the neck cables, crushing them for no other purpose than to further his own sadistic pleasure. "As much as I want you dead, 'Quakey boy, I need you alive, to deliver a message." He said, as he punched him right where the blast had already hit him."Tell Megatron that our next attack will be in about a month's time, as preparation for his execution," he snarled, clearly enjoying being able to say the words aloud. "Let him know that he better come alone, or else." He didn't catch what happened after he was dropped to the ground before he passed out, only the continued cry of humans being slaughtered.
. . . . .
Wreckers. The last resort of the Autobots' already incredibly brutal military, they stood as the pinnacle of "if this isn't a war criminal, I don't know who is." Before, they weren't as much of a threat, reduced to nothing more than Ultra Magnus' goons after Impactor's death during the battle of Garus-9.
But now Springer was back, long since thought taken out to the extent he could never fight again.
What's worse was, from the report that came from a disoriented and badly injured Skyquake was how Springer's strength and speed was comparable to that of their own Phase-Sixers.
Megatron was beyond scared at the thought.
"And again sir, like you yourself have said time and time again, we have stretched our limits with protecting Earth from the Autobots. We did what we could with what we had." Skyquake said, trying to reassure his leader during their hastily arranged command meeting.
Starscream sighed, sliding back in his seat. "What I wouldn't give to have Overlord back here right now," he mumbled into his hands.
"Overlord's location; Unknown." Soundwave droned. "Last known location; Chaar, resupplying for an unknown mission."
"If this really is a full-blown Phase-Sixer, what chance do we have?" Airachnid said, her unusually pessimistic view on the matter sobering a few in the room to the bigger threat this imposed. "If it took the Autobots what was nearly the total annihilation of a planet just to kill Black Shadow, what chance do we possibly have?"
"Maybe we could press Full-Tilt to increase his efforts in fully reactivating Trypticon, surely that would be enough firepower to take Springer down." Skywarp mused, from where he had been hovering in the corner, not giving any indication of listening to the rest of them up until now.
"What? And expose ourselves to the rest of humanity?" Starscream retorted, "We have been lucky enough to get this far without the secret getting out."
"It will be out if the Wreckers keep this up. Sooner or later, people will start wondering what's really going on!" Steve interjected. "If we just do it ourselves, at least the backlash won't be as bad."
"Enough!" Megatron shouted over the room, tension lingering in the brief moment of silence. "Springer clearly is after me, so I will go alone just as they asked."
Starscream looked about ready to blow a gasket. "But sir-"
"And whilst I'm busy distracting him, you'd better have a good enough plan to take him out. For whatever that may be, I leave it to you to figure it out. Dismissed." The gathered Decepticons slowly got up and left the room, leaving Megatron sat at the head of the table, head resting on his fists, doing all he could to keep up the facade of the leader they all needed right now.
A/N: Hmm yes, war crimes. What would a Transformers story be without them?