Volume I: Episode 5: The Battle of Site 13, Part I
Nora and Ren both looked upon the Huntsman, the one who had apparently gone on this mysterious mission, and raised their eyebrows. He was a sailor, stereotypically so, complete with a parrot on his shoulder and a rough-sewn outfit in shades of blue, and his weapon seemed to be an anchor, of all things. Even his accent as he was talking to the parrot seemed to be taken straight out of an old pirate drama.
"Do you think that this guy can tell us what we need to know?" Nora asked suspiciously.
"I believe he can tell us many things," Ren answered sagely. "Whether those things include any information useful in our endeavor, only by asking will we know."
Nora shrugged. "Well, no better time than the present."
The pair walked over to the man and struck a conversational tone.
"Avast, me hearty," Nora declared. "Do ye have a tall tale for us?"
"We're Nora Valkyrie and Lie Ren from Beacon Academy. We called ahead," Ren clarified.
"Aye, aye, take a seat," the man said, waving them to some boxes on the dock much like the one he was sitting on. They did so, and he continued speaking. "Name's Shipwreck, kids. So you two want to hear about my adventures?"
"Yar, the stranger and the more recent, please!" asked Nora.
Shipwreck raised an eyebrow at her declaration. "You sure about that, little missy? I've seen some pretty wild things out there in the wilderness. Things that would make your hair stand on end."
"Squawk! Hair on end! All the hair on end!" the parrot declared.
"We've seen some pretty wild things out there too," Ren placated.
"Crazy things!" confirmed Nora.
"But let's keep this limited to matters involving the SDC," her long-haired companion continued.
"Ha! Well, have I got a tale for you," the sailor said heartily. "Polly, make sure to catch their faces with the scroll's camera for this."
"Squawk! The tragedy of not having thumbs," the parrot moaned as it flew down to pick Shipwreck's scroll out of his pocket.
"Now, either of you heard about the Mother's Embrace?" he asked them with a grin.
"Well, duh," said Nora with a wave. "Of course we know what it is."
"Yes, it's…" Ren began before Nora put her index finger to his lips.
"Really, Renny?" the redhead asked seriously. "Who, exactly, are you about to waste time explaining it to?"
Ren pulled down her finger to show that he was sporting a soft smile. "Well, that's a fair point."
"Yep!" Nora said with a pop. "Now, tell us, Shipwreck. What happened?"
At length, the Huntsman began his tale. "Now, our story starts a few months ago at an SDC facility in Vacuo. I was a little short on cash, and they were offering money for guard duty. Not long after I started, though, they needed escorts for a convoy they were sending across the desert, and I figured, why not join them. Same job, but I get to travel. Well, we were halfway there when the Dervishes attacked."
Nora winced. "Oh, I hate fighting them."
Ren nodded sagely. "Indeed. After all, it's only natural when…" he felt a tap on his knee and looked to see his friend since childhood looking at him with a frown on her face. "Right. Sorry. Please continue, sir."
Shipwreck nodded, even as Polly attempted to balance the scroll on his shoulder. "Well, to make a daring fight short, we were on the ropes until I decided to lead them off. It worked, and the convoy got away scot-free. Trouble was that now they were gunning for me. I must have run three leagues in that first hour alone, fighting the whole way. Polly can attest to how awful it was; he was tucked under my clothes to stay out of the wind."
"You don't want to know," the parrot whistled.
"We were into the fourth hour when the Dervishes finally let up. Couldn't figure out what was with 'em, and I wasn't about to stick around to find out. Turned out, the reason was obvious when I crested the next dune."
"The Mother's Embrace?" asked Nora breathlessly.
Shipwreck snapped his fingers. "Got it in one. I figure it must have been revealed by the shifting winds. Was pretty creepy at first, just like the stories said. So I took a swig or ten of whiskey, and then the place seemed much more agreeable, if you catch my meaning."
Ren and Nora both nodded in unison.
"Well, turns out I wasn't the only one to stumble upon this place. There was a woman there as well, beautiful as the dawn, at least three fathoms tall, and strong as my old classmate after he had eaten his spinach. We talked, and it turned out she was from out of town and didn't really know her way around, but she wasn't any fan of the Dervishes. So, I grabbed my weapon, she grabbed hers, and together, we doubled back around to slay those Dervishes. They never saw us coming, and I was almost sorry the fight was so easy after that, almost."
"Oh, what happened next?" asked Nora excitedly. "Did you sweep her off her feet and live happily ever after?"
Shipwreck chuckled. "Nah. I don't think it would have worked out. Besides the whole compatibility issues, she was a priestess of some sort who needed to get back to her temple. Besides, I've always been more of a mermaid sort of man."
"'Mermaid'?" asked Nora, but before she could elaborate Ren cut her off.
"What happened to the convoy?"
Shipwreck put his hand to his chin. "Now, that's the strange thing. When I got to town, it turned out the convoy had given over all its material to another convoy, but they had my paycheck waiting, so I didn't look too deeply into it. Just happy to get out of the sands. After all, it's like the T-shirts say, 'It's a terrible place to visit, but you wouldn't want to live there.'"
"Ever have anything like that happen in the north of Sanus?" questioned Ren.
"What?" asked Shipwreck, startled. "Oh no. What happened up north was just a simple elaborate scheme involving some regional manager lady from the SDC who fell in love with a train conductor and tried to be together with him despite his family disapproving. She was a faunus, and he was a human, you see."
"The SDC has faunus managers?" asked Ren, surprised.
"Oh, yeah, you know, at the SDC, they have a saying: they don't discriminate, they're jerks to everyone," the sailor said before muttering under his breath, "It's why I decided to stop working for those filthy landlubber…" he caught himself and then continued at a louder volume. "Anyway, his parents shared your surprise, but that just made them think she was a race traitor. They were faunus too, of course; he was adopted. So I helped throw together the mess that saw them get married, all emotional conflicts satisfied, and no one the wiser."
At that his eyes went wide in shock, and there was a shuttering click. Polly lowered the scroll with the avian equivalent of a grin at having caught his human in the moment. Nora and Ren just looked confused.
"Uh, you guys didn't hear that, right?" asked Shipwreck sheepily.
"Hear what?" asked Ren. "We've just been sitting here watching your bird."
"Yep. We've only got eyes for the bird," confirmed Nora.
"Squawk! No flash photography!" Polly declared hypocritically.
"Yeah, it was nice talking to you kids, but I think I better go for now," said Shipwreck hurriedly before getting up and walking away.
The two teens did likewise, and soon, they were walking away with a sense of strange disappointment.
"Well, that was a bust," lamented Nora.
"Not completely," contradicted Ren. "Though yes, it wasn't exactly relevant to our investigation."
"Do you think the others had better luck than us?" asked Nora as they walked away from the docks.
Ruby, Jaune, and Blake all stared at the man in a form-fitting black bodysuit as he sat meditating on a log. They couldn't even see his eyes, hidden as they were behind some sort of visor. Behind him, four students not much older than Jaune or Blake were standing around and searching the forest, and all of them were dressed in a manner similar to their teacher: like ninjas.
"Jaune, how is this possible?" asked Ruby. "How have you found a ninja? An actual ninja!"
Jaune stuttered at this. "I-I don't know! This is the third guy we've seen today, and I didn't know any details besides that he was involved in a suspicious mission involving the SDC!"
Blake was slightly more composed. "Sensei, please tell us what happened that day."
The ninja held up his hand to stop them. They quieted, and he went back to meditating. Shortly, though, one of the students bounded up to them.
"Excuse me. May I help you?" she asked.
"Um, yes," said Jaune. "If you don't mind. We were just wondering what happened on his mission to northern Sanus four months ago."
The girl - dark haired and dressed very much like a red kunoichi - paused to consider their words while simultaneously looking at her teacher as he made a series of rapid hand movements. "I am sorry, but that is a private family matter that Professor Snake Eyes took time off from work from."
"Snake Eyes?" asked Ruby in wonder.
The girl giggled in a way that made Jaune at ease and Blake slightly suspicious. "A more recent trend at Atlas Academy. I'm Jinx, by the way."
"Wait," said Jaune, putting his hand up. "Do you mean to tell me that if we had gone to Atlas Academy, we could have been ninjas with cool nicknames?"
Jinx shrugged. "Possibly."
Ruby turned to the other two members of her team. "Why didn't we enroll at Atlas Academy again?"
"Because we hate the SDC and everything it stands for?" answered Blake.
"Because we didn't think of it?" answered Jaune.
"Oh, yeah," bemoaned Ruby in realization.
"Of course, bandits tend to be selfish and distrustful of each other, so the plan worked. Now you know…"
"And knowing is half the battle," Weiss and Pyrrha chorused in groaning unison with the Atlesian Huntress as they listened to her tale.
Weiss went on to add, "Yes, we got that after the fourth time you said that."
The Atlesian, a young blonde woman called Glenda, seemed to get indignant at that. "Well, if you had to sit through a semester of Professor Faireborn's class, you'd be repeating it too."
Weiss politely pretended not to hear the Huntress muttering about "spoiled rich brats."
"I'm sure they're doing fine," answered Ren.
Yang felt, rather than heard, her burner scroll going off.
She slowed in the crowded courtyard and gave a surreptitious glance around. She saw the rest of Team RWBY waiting by the Huntsman statue where they'd agreed to meet and instead peeled off, stepping behind a tree that shielded her from the crowd before they saw her.
"Yeah?" she answered. Straight to business.
"We're going to hit Site Thirteen tonight," Adam said curtly. "Bring your friends. Same place, just after sunset."
She nodded to herself. "All right. I'll be there."
"Who was that? His voice almost sounds familiar."
Yang jolted upright and spun to find herself facing Ruby, Weiss, and Blake. It was the last of them who had spoken, a curious look on her face.
"Um," Yang hedged, searching for an excuse, "just someone from Maple's garage. I had them check out Bumblebee the other day, and there was some follow up stuff I wanted them to look at."
That was dumb, Yang realized. But it was salvageable.
"Oh." Blake frowned slightly. The voice had been barely audible from where she was standing, hard to make out, but while she couldn't quite place it, she was sure she'd heard it before. She must have heard the voice in passing at some point on one of her visits to the garage.
"Car trouble?" Ruby asked, concerned.
"Nothing major," Yang reassured her, waving it off. "Just want them to check on a few things. Said they might be able to squeeze me in this evening."
She'd just need to call Maple's and stop by before heading out to meet Adam and the White Fang.
"Well!" Weiss said, crossing her arms, impressed. "Talk about excellent customer service. Blake, I don't suppose you know a tailor in town? Right now, you're two for two in knowing just the best people in Vale."
Blake shifted slightly before answering. "Yeah. Nice guy, really good with bulk orders that have a lot of slight differences."
"Why do you need a tailor, Weiss?" asked Yang, looking at the heiress curiously. And, she had to admit, with no small amount of concealed suspicion. "You're always the best dressed out of all of us."
"And how do you think I got that way?" replied the heiress, arching an eyebrow.
"Hmm, I suppose you have a point," Yang admitted.
"He also forced us to attend daily 'educational seminars,' talking about how someone named 'Megatron' was basically the God of Light returned, how he would lead the galaxy into a golden age, and how the Autobots should all be destroyed," Brock said with a shudder. "There were even slideshows. It's how I recognized the Autobot symbol."
"That... definitely sounds like Lugnut," Bumblebee mused. "You getting this, Optimus?"
With all the Autobots and the White Fang's mishmash of vehicles, it was an odd-looking convoy. Adam, Brock, and Yang were riding Bumblebee in the lead: Adam to provide directions, Brock for intel, and Yang because it was Bumblebee. Thankfully, Maple had been surprisingly understanding about the last minute check-up on Bumblebee, allowing her to properly establish her cover. Bumblebee had been understanding too, for that matter, despite a little good-natured grumbling.
"I am, Bumblebee," Optimus's voice came over the radio. "Lugnut is a fanatic, but don't let his seeming simplemindedness fool you. Even assuming he has not received reinforcements, he will have learned from your escape and prepared contingencies."
"What exactly is the plan, though?" Yang asked. "They'll see us if we fly in, and with only the one tunnel, it's sure to be guarded."
"Distraction," Adam said. "The Autobots can draw attention while I infiltrate the facility. Once the captives are free and on-site security is neutralized, we either evacuate or bring in the rest of the White Fang to help neutralize the garrison."
"I'm going with you," Yang declared.
Adam scowled. "No."
"Yes," she persisted. "Look, you're a wanted terrorist, pal. I don't exactly trust you not to hang the Autobots out to dry. Besides, you might need help."
"The last time I worked with a partner, she bailed on me in the middle of a mission," he growled.
"Oh, boo hoo," Yang mocked. "So your terrorist ex-girlfriend couldn't be trusted. What a shock. News flash, I'm not her."
"No," he agreed begrudgingly. "You certainly aren't."
"Face it, Adam. I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not."
He let out an aggravated snarl. "Fine!"
"You know, Sunfire uses that word in the exact same way you do," observed Bumblebee. "Only two people in the galaxy I've heard do that."
The two looked at each other, then gruffly turned their attention back to the road, arms crossed. Both of them. In the back seat, Brock shifted uncomfortably.
"You're not even pretending to drive," the bat-eared faunus lamented nervously.
Outside the car, the road rolled on and on, until Adam finally broke the silence.
"Turn left here."
Blast Off… was bored. There wasn't much call for orbital operations in a world so primitive that the native life couldn't even break atmo. Sure, Onslaught had him on sub-orbital overwatch while the other Combaticons got settled in, but aside from that and Starscream's experiments with the new dust-derived energon - which, yes, in fact, did work in space, unlike its precursor - Blast Off found himself on the ground or at low altitude more often than not.
He was hardly being used to his fullest potential there! Why, he could fly in space! He could do so many other things that the pitiful and lowly groundwalkers couldn't because he was above them all! Above them, and everything else.
So far from contact with his fellow Cybertronians, from any life or structures at all, it left him with a lot to think about. Why were they there? Was it all just a jumbled series of random chances, or did Primus actually exist and have a plan for them all? He didn't know, but more and more, it kept him up at night.
Night, beautiful night. Night when almost the whole world went dark and the fragility of life was truly revealed. Four spots of life, with a smattering of stars almost too faint to see. How did these squishies even survive like that? Did Cybertron look like that now? Ten million years had reduced the once-prosperous world to a shattered husk of its former, proud self, and who knew what had happened to it while they were in stasis? Would they return home only to find a dead world with a few holdouts of survivors eking out a bare existence? What place would he have on that world?
"Blast Off? This is Swindle. My shift's over. Come on down and take over perimeter patrol."
"Please," Blast Off scoffed. "I can keep watch on things from up here."
"Sure, you can. But the Boss says he wants optics on the ground itself, so just get down here, will you? This tunnel's starting to give me the creeps."
"All right, all right. I'll be there. Blast Off out."
With that final click, Blast Off was once again alone. Alone and unwanted. What point was flight without friendship anyway?
With a carefully feathered descent, he reentered the atmosphere without causing any plasma flare and landed on the ground. Swindle was already about to enter the base, so he was alone with the animals. Ah, well, at least the bats and birds could sing a good tune.
As he approached the tunnel entrance, he frowned. Couldn't that idiot Swindle at least take the time to make sure the tunnel doors were properly closed when he got back from one of his "expeditions"? The quartermaster cared far too much for the humans, in Blast Off's opinion.
His frown deepened when he tried to force it closed. Damn thing was stuck. Annoyed, he yanked it open to find out what was blocking the door… and found himself staring at a red chestplate. He looked up to find the unmistakable visage of Optimus Prime frowning grimly down at him before the Autobot leader's combat faceplate snapped shut over his mouth.
Blast Off's optics dilated, giving him a beautiful view of the huge blue hand reaching for his own faceplate…
Blast Off let out one muffled complaint after another as the Autobots restrained him while Yang and Adam looked on. Ratchet was bent over the Decepticon, sparks flying, and after a moment, he stood up.
"There," Ratchet said, satisfied. "External transmitter's disabled; you can drop the jamming field, Ironhide." He leaned over and patted Blast Off on the shoulder, offering a disarming smile. "Don't worry, Blast Off. It'll clear up in a few hours. Try a full reboot if it doesn't."
That set the Decepticon into another frenzy of futile struggling.
"We should just kill him," Adam said.
Yang rolled her eyes. "Don't be an idiot, idiot. We kill him, what do you think they'll do to the people we're here to rescue?"
Adam grunted wordlessly, obviously dissatisfied, but offered no argument.
"This complicates things," Optimus rumbled.
"What do you mean?" Yang asked.
"This is Blast Off," he said. "If he's here, then the other Combaticons surely are as well." He looked over his fellow Autobots. "Does everyone remember their anti-combiner training?"
"Of course!" Ironhide declared, with the others echoing his agreement.
"'Combiner'? What's that?" asked Adam.
"Pray you never find out," Optimus answered.
"Blast Off? Blast Off!" bellowed Onslaught as he held one of his fingers up to his head in a nervous tic. "Scrap. He's not responding to comms. We've got a problem."
"Problem?" asked Barricade curiously. "Couldn't it just be a comm glitch?"
"Blast Off never misses a check-in," Brawl replied, "and he always responds to hails."
"He also insists I always keep him supplied with the best comm gear I can scrounge up," Swindle added.
"Right, so if he's not responding, then something terrible's happened to him, and we need to save him," explained Vortex with a dark chuckle. "Oh, I'm never going to let him live this down."
"Barricade," Onslaught barked, "you're in charge until we get back. Keep an optic out. This could be a distraction."
"Of course," Barricade agreed, turning to head to the security center.
"Combaticons, transform and roll out!" declared Onslaught dramatically.
The Combaticons heeded the call and moved out, the gate rumbling open for Onslaught, Brawl, and Swindle. The Cybertronian mobile anti-air platform, tank, and light utility vehicle departed, with the light rotorcraft overhead.
None of them noticed the two tiny figures hidden in the tall grass, even as they dashed in through the gate behind the Combaticons. As the gate slammed shut, Adam and Yang - Sunfire - took stock of their surroundings.
"How long will they be able to hold them?" Adam asked.
Yang shrugged. "Dunno. But I have faith in them."
As the unlikely pair made their way towards the nearest building, Yang asked quietly, "So, now that we've got a moment, what can you do? If we're going to be watching each other's backs, it'd help if we know each others' capabilities."
"With my sword, Wilt, I shall slice down the hierarchies of oppression," Adam whispered back. "Its scabbard is Blush and transforms into a shotgun to light the fires of revolution. I can use them in combination with my semblance, Moonslice, to absorb damage and throw it back at the unworthy twice as hard as they beatings they give to us. What do you bring to the table?"
"Basically everything you do, Edgelord, but... not nearly as emo."
They came to a large door emblazoned with a purple symbol that vaguely resembled a face, but one sharper and sterner than the Autobot symbol Yang wore on her jacket. The purple insignia in the door came to life, spinning 180 degrees and then sinking into the door, which then parted automatically to reveal a strange work area filled with industrial-looking equipment. There were many tubes, many containers full of dust, and more than a few shipping containers sporting the Schnee snowflake. More disturbing by far though were the dark stains on the floor, identifiable only by the metallic smell that pervaded the air.
"Looks like they haven't gotten around to cleaning up," observed Adam.
Yang held her tongue even as she could feel something hot and terrible welling up from the depths of her spar- soul.
They made their way through the processing floor, careful to avoid touching anything. Along the way, they saw numerous copies of the purple symbol they'd seen on the door, obviously the Decepticon logo, stamped at least once on every piece of machinery in the warehouse. Said machinery was also constructed strangely, almost as if it could fall apart and reform at a moment's notice.
The pair eventually came upon a door that was significantly smaller than the others. This one didn't open automatically; instead, it seemed to have a manual latch. Said latch was, of course, sized and positioned for someone over twenty feet tall.
"Get up on my shoulders, and get us in," ordered Adam seriously.
"Are you implying I'm not strong enough?" asked Yang, quite offended.
Adam just stared at her, deadpan. "If you want to boost me up, be my guest."
"Don't mind if I do," she said, reaching down and hefting him up by the ankle without any further ado.
"Wha- hey!" Adam protested as he struggled to maintain his equilibrium. Once stabilized, he glanced down at and scowled, then turned to the latch. It was a simple thing, meant more to keep the door from swinging open by accident than as an anti-intrusion measure, but between the balancing act and the latch being designed for larger beings with significantly more leverage than he had available to him at the moment, it was a little tricky to get open without falling over.
But get it open he did, and the door swung slowly away from the wall with nary a sound. Yang gently let Adam down, and the two scurried inside. The door was pulled closed after them, and they descended into darkness.
"Got a problem with the dark?" Adam asked with a smirk.
"Nope," Yang answered, smirking back. "You might have noticed that I'm wearing a different set of glasses tonight. That's because Ratchet fixed me up a special set just for this mission. Not only can I see in a whole new section of the electromagnetic spectrum, but I can also translate Cybertronian."
At this, the blonde walked over to the wall and tapped a section covered in a spiky purple script.
"Which is how I know that we're in Maintenance Crawlspace Nine," she boasted. "As long as we don't run into any of those Atlesian Knights Brock warned us about, we should be able to walk through the whole complex unmolested through these tunnels."
Adam made a motion with his head that made it seem like he was rolling his eyes. "Quite the braggart, I see."
"I have a lot to brag about," replied Yang with a smirk.
"Let's just get a move on," chided Adam.
The pair moved thusly for a time, in a manner as swift as they dared, until they came upon a ramp and were forced to descend deeper into the ground until they came to a crossways in the passage. It was there that they saw several signs marking each branch of the path. Yang quickly began to translate.
"Barracks, Communications, Warehouse, Security, Labor Storage," listed Yang, the last coming out with undisguised hate. "Looks like we'll have to pass through… 'Labor Storage' to get to Security. I think we better get going."
"Indeed," concurred Adam before he took off in a run with Yang close on his heels. "Think the distraction is still going well?"
"I'll check, but it wouldn't surprise me if Optimus has the others being a big easy target for the Decepticons," answered Yang.
It had been easy to find the culprits. The four Autobots stood brazenly out in the open, some distance outside the autoguns' programmed defense perimeter. They were easily visible from the ground, let alone Vortex's airborne vantage point, and they waited patiently as the three Combaticons approached.
Onslaught transformed, as did Brawl to his right, and he heard Vortex transforming and landing behind him. He took a moment to survey the opposition: B-127, a scout with an irritatingly lucky record; Ironhide, brawler and weapons expert; Ratchet, medic; and of course, he couldn't forget Optimus slagging Prime himself.
Onslaught had really been hoping Barricade had been mistaken. He and his men were capable warriors, and he and knew it… but Optimus Prime had faced down Megatron and won as often as not.
You'd better not slag this up, Swindle, he thought, steeling his circuits as he faced the Prime. Brawl would be a good match up for Ironhide, and Vortex's aerial advantage should offset B-127's agility. That left the Prime and Ratchet for Onslaught himself, not that he would allow any of his men to face the Prime alone anyway; that was his burden to bear tonight.
"Where's Blast Off?" he demanded.
"He is safe and unharmed," the Autobot leader assured him, before making a point of looking around. "Where is Swindle?"
"Someone has to hold down the fort," Onslaught replied casually, putting on some bravado. A leader needed to project confidence, especially among the Decepticons.
"Surrender, Onslaught," the Prime demanded. "We have you outnumbered."
"I had noticed the tactical deficiency, thank you, but we have our orders."
"Please, Onslaught," the Prime urged. "No one has to die today. You have my word that you'll be allowed to leave unharmed if you surrender the facility and prisoners to us."
The derisive snort came involuntarily, and after a moment's hesitation, Onslaught went with it. They needed to buy Swindle time, after all. "You know, Sentinel Prime gave us his word too once, before he marched us out onto the fields of Simanzi. Back when the word of a Prime meant something."
"Neither side walked away from Simanzi with clean hands, Onslaught," the Prime said quietly. "The sacrifice of your people was a grave injustice that should never have happened."
Onslaught barked out a laugh. "You think we defected because of that?" He sneered. "You Autobots still don't understand, even after all these megacycles. We're Combaticons. We were made to fight and die, we survived the Crucible, and that operation ended the Battle of Simanzi. Sentinel Prime made the right choice, sending us in, but he lied to our faceplates, betrayed us, then fled like a coward when we confronted him. Megatron, at least, respects us for who and what we are: soldiers. Our lives are meant to be spent."
"'Spent,'" the Prime said gently. "Not wasted." Onslaught felt a twitch at that. "You need Blast Off and Swindle to form Bruticus. This is a battle you cannot win."
"Don't be so sure about that," Onslaught bluffed. "After the Crucible, I've always wanted to kill a Prime. Sentinel Prime, preferably, but since he's already dead, you'll do."
"I may fall, Onslaught," the Prime said, "but it won't be tonight, and it won't be by your hand."
Choom!
An energy blast from Onslaught's right lanced out and struck the Prime in the shoulder, sending him twisting but leaving him otherwise largely unharmed, protected by his structural integrity field. Onslaught turned and glared at Brawl, who shrugged.
"What?" Brawl asked defensively. "All the talking was done, right? I mean, that sure sounded like the cue to start the fight to me."
"Everything sounds like a cue to start a fight to you," Onslaught muttered. Nothing for it, then. He raised his voice. "Combaticons! Attack!"
Author's Note 1 (Cyclone):
So... yeah. You know how every writer seems to have those moments when the characters just... take over a scene, regardless of whatever the writer had planned? Well, that happened to me this chapter. Except, in addition to doing whatever the hell he wanted, Onslaught apparently decided to go ahead and write his own backstory without consulting me on it. I had no idea Sentinel Prime actually even existed in this continuity (that he's still a colossal dick is unsurprising, though), nor did it ever occur to me that the Combaticons might have ever once been Autobots.
You can blame Cody for us going full Hasbro.
Author's Note 2 (Cody MacArthur Fett):
You might be able to blame me, but writing that Huntsmen scene was like pulling teeth. I can only imagine how bad it would have been if we didn't have prerendered characters to go off of. Indeed, this turn provides a solution to character creation issues for the foreseeable future.