A/N: Ok, so, just another quick update. Basically a filler, but it foreshadows the next big part of Mira's job. As you may have noticed, the overall battle itself is not as epic as the movie, purposefully. The big battle has yet to be revealed, and you may be surprised as to what it is.
Also, been having some requests and questions on the prequils to this story. They have yet to be written. As soon as this story is finished, I'm launching straight into the continuation. The prequils have yet to be determined, but I have few ideas in mind, and might write those simultaneously, though I am not making any promises as of yet. Anyway, enjoy what's written, and sorry for the slow updates!
Forty-Eight
. . .
Galvatron
It wasn't working.
His plan wasn't formulating the way he'd expected—these prototypes were not functioning as he would've preferred. They were engaging in combat and not searching for the Shield or the Seed—they were going against orders and deviating from his original plan.
As he surveyed the scene of absolute chaos and destruction from his perch—what he understood as the Torre Colpatria—he realized it was slowly coming apart, this plan of his. These prototypes were everywhere and anywhere, causing destruction—which was good, yes; instigating fear into the citizens of the planet was a requirement to rule such a world; but, they were utterly refusing to acknowledge his internal communication—his orders—to cease destruction and pursue the Seed and Shield.
Instead, they were running everywhere. Half of them had taken flight to the hills already, gone; having disabled their communication links. The other half were acting as if they had no internal processor, running amok as if possessed by some plague or entity slowly frying their circuits. Still, yet, some were engaging the Autobots; falling to pieces as they were ripped apart and abruptly terminated by combating forces much stronger and more experienced then themselves.
Rage consumed him. So much rage, in fact, that he slammed his fingers into the top of the building and simultaneously ripped cement and steel from the buildings inner workings. Tossing it over the side of the building, he roared in anger, commanding the air to cease as if his prototypes would acknowledge him in such a primitive, childish manner. But, he stopped short when he whirled around—he took in the sight to the East, watching the vessel move slowly over the skyline of the city. He recognized the ship at once.
"Lockdown," he growled huskily, "so, you've come for my Shield, have you?" He acknowledged the fact that the mercenary had probably been the one to give the Seed to the humans in the first place, seeing as the Autobots were in pursuit of it as well and protecting it as if they'd never had one in their keeping before. And, besides; Lockdown was the only Cybertronian to have the remaining stock of Seeds left in the universe, to the best of Megatron's previous knowledge. Stepping to the edge of the building, he buried his fist into the cement and steel and construction of the architecture, and flung his body over the side. He began to fall, slowing his departure by simultaneously tearing a gaping seam in the building. Glass, debris, furniture, and chunks of construction material rained around his, as his announcing his arrival to earth.
He slammed into the street, creating a huge crater in the asphalt, smashing a few under his massive weight. He trudged forward, ignoring the littered artifacts which were remnants of human occupation, and threw himself into transformation. He roared down the street, shifting through his gears, the position of Lockdown's vessel ever in the center of his attention.
. . .
Optimus
He surged forward, newfound courage and passion erupting within his spark; possessing his being and creating in him a new and utterly unexplainable torrent of emotion, power, and calling. He recalled, somewhere along the line, his statement to Elaina—this moment was what they'd been born to do.
He'd left the array of destruction and chaos behind him, now only intently focused on the raging war before him. The prototypes had scattered to the four winds—some to the hills, others to different parts of the country, which would eventually lead them to the States or other nations. Some continued to fight, to destroy, to tear apart the world of a race so inherently innocent but corrupted by their presence. A dash of guilt welled within him: this was his fault, staying on Earth and bringing war. He turned a quick left, noting a family huddling inside an apartment, crying; their sobs were uncontrollable, inconsolable—they brought the dread he'd been expecting.
His focus, however, was on the vessel before him. Lockdown had returned, and with a vengeance no doubt in his sights. He wanted his bounty and he wanted his trophies, and he would not be satisfied until he had them. Optimus realized he was going to have to end Lockdown to end the threat he created. This would not be an easy task, as Lockdown was extremely experienced in his field—he had trained with the elite on Cybertron before being expelled. Optimus himself had also received such training, but he had not been in combat for three years—he was tired, he was weary, and he had other concerns.
Which drew him back to Mira. He still had no update on her status, for the Autobots had disabled most of their comm.-links—something he would have to address later. The last he knew he heard screams and gunfire and human struggle; needless to say he was unnerved. The promising hope of Cybertron, Mira was something he could not—would not—allow himself to lose. Yet, his anger burned at her for disobeying orders, his longsuffering was tried. The mixed emotions he felt towards her was unbelievable—never before had he known someone to send him, at one moment in a direction and then in the next send him in the completely opposite. Perhaps that was why she was good for him—she was different, challenging, and unique.
Finally, he received a transmission from Hound.
Boss, this is Hound. We got a bit of a situation with Mira here—
He did not hestitate, Hound. Is Mira alright?
He replied instantly, Honestly, I dunno, Boss. She took a pretty rough fall. Me'n Sideswipe stuck here with the kids and with baldy, pinned down by these stinkin' prototypes. Bumblebee's doin' Primus knows what and Drift is somewhere fightin' 'Cons.
This brought no solace, only concern. Was Mira even still alive? The vague explanation Hound replied only confirmed his deepest fear—the situation was not at all good. He wondered where Crosshairs was in all of this, and then briefly he thought about the ship they'd left behind in the mountains. The insane numbers of prototypes also invaded his mind—his soldiers were exhausted and outnumbered, and they hadn't even addressed Galvatron yet.
The ship.
The ship contained some of the greatest secrets of his time; secrets he had suppressed so deep within himself that he'd almost forgotten. But, those secrets had awakened while he and Mira had been aboard the Terminus, awakened and released by one simple stare. One simply question.
The warriors. The legendary warriors.
Lost to the history of Cybertron, the legendary warriors of his time had been all but forgotten by not only time, but himself. These brothers, which he had fought beside countless times, had been condemned and exiled from Cybertron upon his christening into Prime. They had presented too much war and destruction and challenge for the High Council to feel secure in his new reign—he had all but shunned them; as not only their Prime but their friend he had abandoned them for the acceptance of the High Council. They would never forgive him. He wouldn't blame them.
But, they would however, perhaps listen to a leader who had promised them freedom.
Hound—take the children and Joshua back to the ship. Direct Crosshairs there as well. Aboard the ship you will find comrades who present you a shift of fortune. Mira will know what to do. Get her to the ship, and do it quickly.
Hound responded immediately. I'm not followin', Optimus…
You do not have to, friend. Just go. And go now. Time is short. He ended the comm as he came under the shadow of the vessel. It became dark; dark in the sense of the vessel blocked sunlight, but dark in soul as well. There was a great chance he may never come out of that ship—there was a great chance he may never see Mira or his loved ones again. There was a good chance the world might be lost.
There was a good chance for everything, he reasoned.
