Wee-hah! More early chapters, again thanks to Albedo, not to mention MeRLin. See, children? Reviewing helps. ;)
Oh, and before anyone tells me, yes, I know Cryotek's from the RiD line, but, well... Go to www.botcon.com, look under characters, and check Cryo's tech spec. You'll see...
Ancient hiroglyphics covered the walls. Slash stared at them, trying in vain to decipher them. "We can't read this, Megatron. They haven't taught us!"
"Nor are they ever likely to, noo..." drawled his friend. "The glory of our ancestors, and thus our past, lies in these markings. But it's not the written word I'm after." He disappeared further into the darkness, beyond the reach of Slash's infrared circuits.
"You're being cryptic again," he informed Megatron dryly. "What are we looking for?"
"One of the grestest lies told to us by the accursed Maximals," Megatron's voice was curt and poisonous, "is that all the legacy we were left was of the primitive kind. Weapons, statues, nothing of substance."
"Makes sense. I've certainly never seen a Decepticon record of the war." He frowned slightly. "Which, of course, makes no sense at all. I see your point."
"I've heard, from my sources, that the Autobots destroyed every single Decepticon record when the War ended. Except for one."
Slash followed the sound of Megatron's voice, sword absently held ready. "Oh? And what might that be?"
"I'm not sure." The voice was disgruntled. "But I hear that a mural of the most important wartime records for our ancestors is situated somewhere down here..." Slash finally managed to spot him; a shadow flitting through the corridor.
"And... where is here?" he asked, battling to keep up.
Megatron ducked through a hole, and Slash followed him into a gigantic hall, their footsteps echoing loudly. "Here," Megatron said, smirking at the darkness around them, "is the very heart of Vilnacron. My namesake's throne-room."
Slash blinked and looked to the far side of the hall. A throne, broken and deformed, stood on a daïs. "I did not think such a place existed."
"Of course not." Megatron's voice was even more bitter. "After all, what evil tyrant needs a place of audience?"
Slash sighed. "To the point, my friend. Why are we here?"
Megatron didn't answer, but prowled along the walls, checking them. He barely aknowledged it when Slash followed him, so absorbed was he with the ancient building, but the walls remained bare. No, he thought despairingly. He had come all the way down here, and he wouldd not leave empty handed.
Slash was silent, spending the time on looking over the hall. With a little imagination, he managed to envision Megatron the First as he returned triumphantly, the ancient court of an ancient race saluting him. But Slash blinked, and the image was gone. He sighed softly and turned his attention back to his friend. "There's nothing here."
"There has to be!" snapped Megatron back, voice edged with hysteria. "I refuse to've come all the way down here and see nothing!"
"Suit yourself," growled Slash, moving from the wall and towards the middle of the room. "Once you're ready to leave you can tell me." He stopped in the middle of the dusty floor and looked around. Everything had been reduced to barely visible shadows. Except... Primus. "Megatron!"
"I'm not done here!" growled the other mech.
"Megatron, I think I found it!" Slash sped up, heading for the corner to the left of the throne, where a glint of gold had caught his attention.
Megaton's head snapped up. "What?" He squinted, spotting the shadow that made out Slash and followed.
Slash grinned, brushing at the thick layer of dust covering a splendid, if somewhat antique mural. "Yes! This is it." He turned to looks at Megatron.
The purple mech stopped next to his friend and gaped what Slash had already uncovered. "Yeess...!" Reaching up, he too started brushing off the ancient work.
Slash rubbed at something akin to cobwebs, then froze. "Megatron? I think I found that remaining relic..."
Megatron gave him a curious look. His fellow student had sounded uncharacteristically meek. "What is it?"
Slash motioned weakly at the wall, stepping back.
After a last odd look, Megatron turned his attention to the mural. And froze, optics wide.
Slash rubbed his own optics, a shudder snaking its way down his back, and the memory of a current news report returned to him.
"Primus, Slash..." Megatron choked, hands falling to his side. "They didn't just erase our history. They stole it for themselves..."
On the mural - held up by Soundwave, a legendary Decepticon - as in a mockery of the two Predacons' beliefs, glittered a depiction of the Golden Disk.
Above them, over sewers and tunnels and layers of forgotten tombs, rested present day Vilnacron. A bustling metropolis, and the city that was counted the finest of the Predacon areas, not that it meant much. It was from here the Tripredacus Council conducted their business, when not in safe orbit around Cybertron.
But like in every other Predacon city, the inhabitants had quickly found that unless they were very high-ranking, or an informer to the Maximal peacekeepers, there was no way to lead a legal lifestyle and still survive. So it truly was every mech for himself, with no choice nor opportunity to free themselves of that life. Though, even among a destitute people, there is honour, and the Predacons were no different. In some still pulsed the Spark of a warrior, and their honour was that of battle and faith. In others pulsed the Spark of a survivor, and among them there was the honour of thieves, all of it looked over by the resident "king of the underworld" for each town.
These mechs were those that had done well for themselves, and the ones to whom all thieves, murderers and frauds would have to report to, and at times even ask for help. Each so-called king had his own connections to the higher powers, and knew well how to bribe and black-mail.
And of course we should stick together, thought Knight, "ruler" of Cyclopa, scratching his steel-grey armour while listening to his fellow overseer, Deathwing of Darkmount. Bored out of his mind, he nodded absently. His personality is as banal as his name... But! Stick together. Remember, stick together.
"And of course I always thought that the whole operation was pure idiocy, so when they asked for help, I just--" Deathwing's listing of arrests within his mercenaries were cut off suddenly.
"Gentlemechs. Forgive my lateness."
Both Knight and Deathwing stood up, greeting the overseer of Vilnacron. It was fitting that the king of the greatest city, and thus the most powerful, should also be the largest of them all. And as he now stepped in, armour in shades of white and icy blue, Cryotek towered over his two colleagues, amber optics amused at their respect.
"Doesn't matter, Cryotek," said Deathwing, smiling a bit. "Me and Knight have been talking, swapping amusing stories."
"Right," Knight agreed weakly, "amusing."
Cryotek smiled back and nodded. "Good. You both know the reason we are here..."
Deathwing scowled and slammed one fist into his other hand. "That thrice-damned proposal for razzias the Elders came up with."
"And if you didn't, you certainly do now," Cryotek dryly informed Knight, and recieved a snort of a amusement in return. "While I have no particular problem with this, the two of you seem slightly... unsettled by it?"
"Not all of us know how to woo the peacekeepers for our own gains," Knight told him, trying to get his accent, which tended to snub the words, under control.
"Indeed." Cryotek gestured for them to follow him into his office. "And now you're asking me for help."
"That is the logical thing to do. You have... connections the rest of us don't," Deathwing told him, shrugging.
Cryotek sighed and settled into his chair, letting the others sit as well. "I know how to use my mind, and I know what the Maximals want to hear. My connections are frail, and they certainly don't extend to the Elders."
Deathwing fidgeted, while Knight crossed his legs, pondering. "And why, colleague Cryotek, are you not worried about this... razzia?"
The blue mech smirked crookedly. "I have my reasons. And I've made sure to hide my goods well."
Deathwing leant forward, giving the larger robot a pleading look. "Where?"
"Ah," Cryotek said, raising a finger in reprimand. "That would be cheating." He settled back in his chair, comfortable, looking over the two. "I don't see how you expect me to he--" He stopped abruptly.
Deathwing looked down at his beeping comm, an abashed expression on his face.
"It is impolite to have an open comm at a meeting," Knight informed him innocently, while Cryotek hid a grin behind his hand. This was more than just simple poking; no one wanted a stranger listening in on private meetings, after all.
Deathwing coughed and tapped the comm. "Excuse me," he told the two, before turning to the caller.
"As I was saying," Cryotek continued to Knight, talking quietly for Deathwing's benefit, "I don't see how you expect me to help you. I'm busy of my own accord. There are dozens of unregistered labs and thieving nests around here, and I have my hands full cleaning them out before the razzia. I don't want sharpened supervision in Vilnacron because of a few amateurs."
"I see what you're saying," Knight quietly said back. "But of all the mechs who'd know how to get us safely through this, you'd be the one with the best plan. I only wished that you could share it with us."
"I have my own neck to worry about," Cryotek told him, frowning slightly. "It sounds cold, but I really can't be bothered with anyone else's."
Any reply from Knight was cut off by a sharp, "What?!" from Deathwing. "Well, what do you expect me to do about it?! He's your student!" He angrily shut down the comm.
Cryotek raised an optic-ridge at him. "Trouble back home?"
Deathwing sighed tiredly. "Laserblast, the mech in charge of the Academy in Darkmount, he's lost a student. As I've promised protection for the Academy, he expects me to send out my people! Why he doesn't tie that little bastard down I'll never understand..."
Knight snorted and Cryotek chuckled. "I see. Chronic troublemaker?"
Deathwing smirked a bit. "With a name like Megatron, how could he not be?"
Knight widened his optics. "I think I feel sorry for the poor boy. I'd hate a name like that."
"Wouldn't we all," smirked Cryotek before leaning forward. "To business! Now, Deathwing, as I was telling Knight, I have trouble of my own to deal with..."