Cyclonus stared at his vial of Engex as if it contained the very secrets of Vector Sigma itself. His thoughts turned - as they often did given his life of quiet solitude - to that final battle on Junk.
Yellow and purple laser fire. Bruticus collapses as Ultra Magnus, perched on the Combaticon Combiner's faceplate, unleashes both missiles and a clip of ammo at point blank range into the monster's face. Topspin falls as Cyclonus fist smashes into the side of his head, metal cracking and purple liquid spurting from a crack. Probably not fatal, if treated quickly. To the right, Devastator stumbles and flails blindy as Junkions swarm up his body, his feet crushing some of the insanely chattering fools, even as they continue to swarm him.
Scourge swoops down from above and transforms into robot mode next to Cyclonus.
"You were right, this is insanity. We cannot win here. We never could. Our casualties are mounting too quickly." Scourge, normally so unflappable, at least recognises a lost cause when he sees one.
"We fight. Our flagship still stands, and we will fight until Galvatron says otherwise."
Suddenly laser fire rips into the area around the two Decepticon lieutenants, as the three remaining functional Aerialbots, Slingshot, Air Raid and Skydive strafe the area. Pain explodes in Cyclonus midsection as an incendiary charge hits him.
"Scourge! Tell what's left of the Sweeps to win back the sky!"
"Negative." Scourge replies, rolling for cover as the Aerialbots turn to commence another run. "Galvatron's orders - all aerial troops to assist the flagship."
Cyclonus curses to himself as he snaps a volley of fire off at the approaching Aerialbots, then dives to his left to avoid the return fire as they zoom overhead. He risks a quick glance upwards.
Above the planet, the Decepticon flagship pours laser fire into a pair of Autobot shuttles and two Junkion cruisers, who return fire with equal vigour. The surface of all five ships seems to ripple with a constant flow of tiny explosions. Sweeps and Seekers fight around the behemoth ships with Autobot fliers and Sky Lynx. Galvatron himself stands on the hull of the flagship, his particle cannon wreaking a heavy toll on one of the Autobot juggernauts, as he screams defiance at the universe.
"We're getting nowhere!" snaps Cyclonus. He hurls his rifle to the floor (how he had frequently wanted to that with the late Nebulon, Nightstick) and draws a machine pistol as the Aerialbots close again. Calmly ignoring all distractions he scores direct hits on Air Raid and Slingshot with controlled bursts of fire. He then leaps at the last second atop the passing Skydive, and rips a wing clean off the struggling Autobot.
Cyclonus jumps clear and lands beside Scourge as the Aerialbot spins out of control and crashes.
"Impressive as ever, Cyclonus. Now transform and lets go help Galvatron."
"I cannot Scourge. My transformation cog was damaged in the initial exchange of fire. Brainstorm tagged me with some kind of explosive shell. I will have to remain here, and hold the li-"
A massive explosion caused a temporary stop in the fighting as all sets of optics turned skyward. The starboard engine on the Decepticon cruiser had exploded under heavy fire, and the ship was breaking up. The Decepticons would be sitting ducks for the Autobot shuttles. The explosion had caught Galvatron in the blast, who was plummeting towards the planetary surface, amid the fiery wreckage of his prized ship.
To the left, the Decepticon line broke as controlled fire from Sandstrom, Springer, Broadside and the Lamborghini twins and the usual head on assault from the Dinobots tore Predaking apart. Snapdragon and Misfire were gunned down by Hardhead and Nightbeat. As Cyclonus prepared to throw himself into the fray, the right side of the Decepticon line began to break. The Protectobots, Technobots and Throttlebots had emerged from one of the Autobot shuttles and were pushing the Decepticons back.
Laser fire. Explosions. Screams of the dying. The impact of metal on metal. Molten debris raining down, and the sky was on fire above the planet Junk, where the Decepticons made their final stand. Here, on a planet of junk, and at the whim of a madman who they had all - Cyclonus especially - followed blindly. Cyclonus fired until his pistol clicked at the approaching Defensor, and threw it away. He prepared to sell his life dearly, just as the other engine from the Decepticon craft arrived on the planet's surface and exploded.
He remembered no more. The darkness had taken him, and he felt himself entering entering stasis-lock. However, he felt something within his spark, even as he mercifully slipped from consciousness. A sense of both loss and freedom. Drifting forever, side by side.
Perhaps stasis lock had been both blessing and curse, Cyclonus mused to himself, as he absent-mindedly swirled the dark purple Engex around the glass vial it had been served in. A blessing, as he hadn't witnessed the deaths of his comrades, Galvatron and Scourge – Cyclonus cared little for the other Decepticons – and a curse because he had been unable to do anything to prevent their demise.
He himself had drifted in stasis lock for a long-time until his Unicron-gifted internal repair systems had brought him back online, broken, battered, and in the early stages of energon-deprivation. Worse, the damage to his transformation cog was beyond his internal repair systems, and he had yet to find either opportunity or person to attend to it. What was a Transformer without the ability to transform?
He had managed to fly in his much slower robot form to an old abandoned Decepticon depot nearby, and refuel. A trip to Epsilon Minor, a small interstellar fuelling depot had led to him spending several days catching up on Galactic news reports, including an in-depth report on the end of the Transformers civil war, and a (hugely exaggerated) report on the final battle on Junk.
After that, Cyclonus had used the black market sale of what weapons he had scavenged from the abandoned depot (Decepticon weapons were highly-prized amongst crime syndicates) to purchase a single-seater planet hopper, which was, frankly, one step up from piloting a Junkion through space but without his alt mode, Cyclonus couldn't really afford to be choosy.
Cyclonus had left the spaceport and gone back to the depot. He had rebuilt some of it, and spent a long time in seclusion. However, his loss of his alt mode had bothered him, and that was why he found himself here, in a pathetic bar on some pathetic leisure planet, looking for someone who might be able to find him a medic familiar with Cybertronian alt-modes.
The people who knew people, he surmised, were always found in the most wretched of places. This bar was certainly that. Still, you could always remain anonymous in a place like this if you didn't draw any attention to yourself. Monacus had little interest in fugitives from wars. All he needed was to ask the right questions, find a medic, and he could depart without fuss. Maybe do a bit of exploring of some of the outer systems...
A flash of a strangely-familiar green metal caught the edge of Cyclonus' optics, and he looked to the bar. His eyes narrowed as he recognised the pair of mechanoids.
Springer. Ultra Magnus. Autobots!
