Okay, things are probably going to get a tad confusing from this point on.
But bear with me, all will be explained.
Chapter Six:
"Contrary to popular belief, not every Transformer on the Maximal senate is overjoyed with this bastardised Cybertron." Bludgeon stated bluntly, "No matter what Sideswipe reports to the masses." Megatron stood, watching as the skeletal transformer swung his sword as he talked. A few swipes of the blade had come close to his body but he didn't budge. He had no need to. As the voice in his head had repeated over and over to him,
I AM YOU. YOU ARE I. WE ARE A GOD.
"I need" Megatron began. Bludgeon swung his sword one more time, the blade halting an inch from the Predacon's face. Waspinator, who watched on, moved from his position at the doorway and stopped. What was he doing? He thought. He owed Megatron nothing. He was no longer his. Waspinator stood back, resuming his place.
"I know what you need. I have waited for you patiently for many years." Bludgeon removed the sword from Megatron's view and slowly sank to one knee. "It has been a long time Lord Unicron." Waspinator was visibly intrigued by the name Bludgeon referred to his old commander with, he stood forward: inching closer, his eyes now fixed on Megatron, and-
MY TIME HERE IS SHORT IN THIS BODY. I MUST GET TO THE ORACLE. I MUST GET TO PRIMUS.
* * *
He didn't recognise this place. He searched his memory banks for it but failed time and again to find it. Was this still Cybertron? Had he woken up on some other planet? Was he back on Earth? Cheetor walked slowly through the fields of corn, the stalks brushing by his waist as he went. He couldn't help but waive his hand across the plants, watching the wave of motion carry through. It was so peaceful here, he almost didn't want to leave.
"Cheetor" The voice seemingly floated on the air before it reached him. He turned, aching to see the origin. "Hello?" He called but found nothing but silence as a reply. What should he do? He had nowhere to go in this place: the field spread out as far as his optics could register. And he sensed he wasn't alone.
"Cheetor" The voice was deeper closer this time. Almost recognisable. Did he know it? Could it be-? And suddenly, he felt the ground move. Something was heading his way: and within an instant, he could see it.
"Optimus?" He asked.
* * *
"I don't understand what is going on" Waspinator scratched at the plating surrounding his head. "Megatron?" the Predacon commander faced him, a knowing look upon his face. "It seems," he began, "I am Unicron."
YOU ARE I. I AM YOU. WE ARE A GOD.
Bludgeon stood by a computer console, the blue light of the screen lost in his skeletal face. He moved his hands quickly over the keyboard as on screen: images of transformers flashed by. Some Waspinator could see, he knew from the bar. He noticed Long Haul, Kickback, Springer, Octopunch, Sunstreaker and countless others he had seen day by day. Why did Bludgeon have files on them?
"Your bar," Bludgeon began almost sensing Waspinator's curiosity, "is more than a mere social gathering place." Waspinator stared at him, "Don't understand." He murmured. "Who do you think provided you with employment there? Why do you see the same transformers all the time?" Megatron smiled, "My army?" Bludgeon faced him. "Yes," He replied, "All transformers willing to fight fro the glory of the old Cybertron. Autobots and Decepticons alike. Maximal with Predacon. For this cause they are willing to forgo past squabbles." Waspinator paced back and forth, clearly agitated, "But why Waspinator?" He quizzed. If Bludgeon had had eyes, he would have rolled them. "You don't get it?" He snapped. Megatron laughed, "Of course he doesn't. He never was one of the brightest." Megatron turned to Waspinator, reached out, grasping his arm. "They knew I would seek you out. You, Waspinator, are the catalyst for the rebirth of Old Cybertron!"
* * *
"Bigbot, is it really you?" Cheetor didn't know what to think. Was his optics deceiving him? Was the transformer ahead of him: Optimus Primal? "You're dead." He said, his voice hovering. The being before him moved closer. "There is a great evil coming. You must allow it access." Cheetor frowned, "I don't understand. What evil?" Silence, then from behind the Maximal another voice came. And soon, a body to match.
"It will be reborn." The figure said. Cheetor knew this one vaguely from the Autobot data tracks as Rodimus Prime: the great leader throughout the last of the Cybertronian Wars. "I don't understand." Cheetor yelled, only to find another voice answer. This one, every transformer knew. Optimus Prime simply said, "Seek out Suteneko Prime."
Chapter Six:
"Contrary to popular belief, not every Transformer on the Maximal senate is overjoyed with this bastardised Cybertron." Bludgeon stated bluntly, "No matter what Sideswipe reports to the masses." Megatron stood, watching as the skeletal transformer swung his sword as he talked. A few swipes of the blade had come close to his body but he didn't budge. He had no need to. As the voice in his head had repeated over and over to him,
I AM YOU. YOU ARE I. WE ARE A GOD.
"I need" Megatron began. Bludgeon swung his sword one more time, the blade halting an inch from the Predacon's face. Waspinator, who watched on, moved from his position at the doorway and stopped. What was he doing? He thought. He owed Megatron nothing. He was no longer his. Waspinator stood back, resuming his place.
"I know what you need. I have waited for you patiently for many years." Bludgeon removed the sword from Megatron's view and slowly sank to one knee. "It has been a long time Lord Unicron." Waspinator was visibly intrigued by the name Bludgeon referred to his old commander with, he stood forward: inching closer, his eyes now fixed on Megatron, and-
MY TIME HERE IS SHORT IN THIS BODY. I MUST GET TO THE ORACLE. I MUST GET TO PRIMUS.
* * *
He didn't recognise this place. He searched his memory banks for it but failed time and again to find it. Was this still Cybertron? Had he woken up on some other planet? Was he back on Earth? Cheetor walked slowly through the fields of corn, the stalks brushing by his waist as he went. He couldn't help but waive his hand across the plants, watching the wave of motion carry through. It was so peaceful here, he almost didn't want to leave.
"Cheetor" The voice seemingly floated on the air before it reached him. He turned, aching to see the origin. "Hello?" He called but found nothing but silence as a reply. What should he do? He had nowhere to go in this place: the field spread out as far as his optics could register. And he sensed he wasn't alone.
"Cheetor" The voice was deeper closer this time. Almost recognisable. Did he know it? Could it be-? And suddenly, he felt the ground move. Something was heading his way: and within an instant, he could see it.
"Optimus?" He asked.
* * *
"I don't understand what is going on" Waspinator scratched at the plating surrounding his head. "Megatron?" the Predacon commander faced him, a knowing look upon his face. "It seems," he began, "I am Unicron."
YOU ARE I. I AM YOU. WE ARE A GOD.
Bludgeon stood by a computer console, the blue light of the screen lost in his skeletal face. He moved his hands quickly over the keyboard as on screen: images of transformers flashed by. Some Waspinator could see, he knew from the bar. He noticed Long Haul, Kickback, Springer, Octopunch, Sunstreaker and countless others he had seen day by day. Why did Bludgeon have files on them?
"Your bar," Bludgeon began almost sensing Waspinator's curiosity, "is more than a mere social gathering place." Waspinator stared at him, "Don't understand." He murmured. "Who do you think provided you with employment there? Why do you see the same transformers all the time?" Megatron smiled, "My army?" Bludgeon faced him. "Yes," He replied, "All transformers willing to fight fro the glory of the old Cybertron. Autobots and Decepticons alike. Maximal with Predacon. For this cause they are willing to forgo past squabbles." Waspinator paced back and forth, clearly agitated, "But why Waspinator?" He quizzed. If Bludgeon had had eyes, he would have rolled them. "You don't get it?" He snapped. Megatron laughed, "Of course he doesn't. He never was one of the brightest." Megatron turned to Waspinator, reached out, grasping his arm. "They knew I would seek you out. You, Waspinator, are the catalyst for the rebirth of Old Cybertron!"
* * *
"Bigbot, is it really you?" Cheetor didn't know what to think. Was his optics deceiving him? Was the transformer ahead of him: Optimus Primal? "You're dead." He said, his voice hovering. The being before him moved closer. "There is a great evil coming. You must allow it access." Cheetor frowned, "I don't understand. What evil?" Silence, then from behind the Maximal another voice came. And soon, a body to match.
"It will be reborn." The figure said. Cheetor knew this one vaguely from the Autobot data tracks as Rodimus Prime: the great leader throughout the last of the Cybertronian Wars. "I don't understand." Cheetor yelled, only to find another voice answer. This one, every transformer knew. Optimus Prime simply said, "Seek out Suteneko Prime."