Chapter 3: Dust To Dust

Nothing… He felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing. He didn't register anything at all. He was essentially drifting in nothing. But something yanked him from the abyss and brought him back into the material world.

The first thing to return was thought, memory. He could recall running from something, but he didn't know what or why. The second question was answered when a phantom pain returned to haunt him. It was a subtle sting now, but once upon a time it burned like hell. His vision returned and he found several purple shapes moving towards him.

Several other shapes were running from them with mixed results. Some evaded their assailants, others gunned down by them. He remembered throwing his fists at them, flinging the enemy around like ragdolls… and those same beings filled him up with plasma bolts. Alarms blurred as the heat danced in the air. Rewind and First Aid carried him into a stasis pod and ejected it from the docking bay. He watched the Arclight go up in flames as his systems shut down, bursting into a horrific display of orange-and-red. The memory ended there. And this is where the present began.

9 Hours after Arrival onto Remnant

Swerve stumbled out of the stasis pod and onto the ground. The first thing he noticed was the sands. Rather than the light tan he was more familiar with, these strains were red. This indicated a high concentration of iron within the grains. The next change he noticed was his own chassis, now sporting a windshield and some new tires. A brief diagnostic of his systems revealed that a new alt-mode had been uploaded into his brain module, necessitating a physical formatting. Someone went out of their way to find him a disguise.

He saw two potential culprits not far from him. One of them was a group of Autotroopers, dragging and carrying all sorts of things around him. He spun around to see that he was in an abandoned village, the huts clearly designed for smaller lifeforms. He spotted a massive cavern not too far from his position, with Autotroopers moving in and out of it. They all were carrying crates and other containers, some of which were glowing.

The second was digging around in debris from the Arclight. He and some Omnibots were hard at work salvaging and recycling everything they could get their servos on. Already they seemed to have set up some rudimentary defenses and refineries, along with a radio tower and tiny workshops. There was even a makeshift laboratory among them. This was all the handiwork of Huffer.

The young mech spotted the elder not too far from his position, barking orders at some Autotroopers. His shoulders were sporting pieces of what appeared to be a cowcatcher, while a blue visor shielded his optics. He walked towards the orange-and-blue Mech and cleared his throat. The engineer's shoulders shot up and he spun around to see the geologist. His visor flickered while the larger bot sheepishly waved at him. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank Primus," Huffer said. "For a while I thought that I was the only living genius in this dust bowl."

Laughed. "Gonna take more than some Genericons to take me down," He said. "Speaking of dust bowls, where exactly are we?"

Huffer brought up a holographic projection of the planet from his arm, with a blinking red dot showcasing their position.

"Somewhere in the southern hemisphere far as I can tell," He replied. "From the looks of things, this area was part of a mining outpost. Everyone's been salvaging the place and any debris that survived planetfall while you were in sleepmode."

"Anyone else make it off the Arclight?"

"Plenty," he replied. "but we're all scattered to the solar winds. It's you, me, Hubcap, Moonracer, Metoerstorm, Riptide, some redshirts, and at least a dozen more notable bots here."

He motioned towards the radio tower with his thumb. "Built this in the hopes of reaching out to someone, but so far no dice. We did find something in the local mines around here. Metals and… well, best if I show you."

He walked the larger Mech over to a pile of glowing containers, picking up a canister and bringing up to the other bot's faceplate. "Some Troopers found the stuff at the bottom of the local mine," he explained. "It's safe to look inside, but I wouldn't recommend touching the actual contents."

Swerve took the cylinder from the elder bot and popped the lid off. Within it were a bunch of glowing crystals, with different colors competing for the attention of his optical sensors. He felt an odd sensation the more he looked at them, though. Something about them seemed… well, "mystical" was the best way to describe it. He scanned the contents and found they emitted some form of radiation, similar to that of-

Swerve froze. "This is just like the moon," he said.

Huffer's visor flickered again. "Come again?"

"This is an almost-perfect match to the radiation from the moon."

Huffer glanced up towards the sky. "Think this stuff came from there?"

"It's possible," Swerve theorized. "Could've broken off from the satellite and made planetfall. Must've happened at least centuries ago for it to sink into the crust by now. But right now there's too many variables to know."

He placed the lid back onto the canister. "Think we can squeeze some Energon outta those?" The red-and-white inquired.

Huffer shrugged. "Beats me," he confessed. "I was honestly holding off on experimenting with the stuff till you woke up. The stuff's rather-"

Right as the words left his vocal processor, an Autotrooper dropped a canister onto his feet. The fall punctured the container and it exploded right at the poor bot's feet. He screamed as his leg disintegrated in the blast and fell onto the sands. The bulkier bot yelped as he and Huffer instinctively ducked, shielding their faces from the flying shrapnel. The older bot growled and cursed at the top of his voicebox could, the words too coarse for Swerve to repeat. When he calmed down, he grabbed his nasal bridge and sighed.

"...volatile," he finished as more Troopers rushed to the victim's aid. He growled in frustration as he examined the wound. "I might be an engineer and architect, but this isn't exactly me forte. It pains me to admit this, but-"

The towering Autobot pattered the smaller one's shoulder. "Don't need to ask," he offered. "If anything, I'm dying to see what this place holds."

5 Hours after Arrival, Parchment

Snow. Nothing but snow and freezing winds. Nothing but dull grey clouds floating above your head. Nothing but the howls of winter's breath scraping at your eardrums. At least indoors you're treated to more pleasant views and company. At least there's heat within these walls. In many respects it was better than the streets of Mantle.

Still, the wasteland did shed some beauty everyone once in a while. When the clouds weren't polluting the skies, they tended to be rather breathtaking. Didn't matter if it was broad daylight or the cosmic veil of night time. The way the light bounced off of the snow also added more character and dimensions to the continent. If you were lucky, you could probably even see a rainbow or two during the day.

And that was mother nature alone. Not far from Outpost Parchment was the village of Vellum. Though it was primarily a farming commune these days, it was once something prouder. In its youth it was a trade hub on Solitas between various tribes and settlements. Underground hot springs provided them with drinking water and soil for crops. The local Dust mine provided them with enough of Nature's Wrath to weave into their furs. People from all over would journey here just to feel the bloody things.

Then Mantle began cracking down on art. The officers sent to enforce this strange and abstract law came to the conclusion that culture itself would breed art. So they set out to "buy" all of Vellum's goods and replace their chief architect with one of their own. Things got worse when the Great War began. Suddenly all of their goods and produce were being carted away for the war efforts of some tyrant everybody hardly knew.

By the time the conflict ended, it was practically bled dry. The Dust mines are hollow and empty, while the oldest buildings lay buried under hills of snow. At least the springs still remain. At least there's still a bar to get some grub and drinks. But the people still remember the good old days. The days before Mantle, before the War. And what Mantle had done to their ancestors.

Ortzi Egnatius was observing the village and surrounding wastes for any signs of activity. His orange eyes scanned the horizons through an old set of binoculars. His sky blue hair was kept in a buzzcut, to reduce maintenance on whatever locks of hair remained. Many would describe his task as boring, but "boring" was honestly a good thing around here. Boring meant no attack, no chaos to draw Creatures of Grimm. Boring meant that you would live to fight another day, to see your friends and family again. Today wasn't going to be any of that, sadly.

Something caught his eyes off in the distance. It seemed small at first, but it quickly grew in size the closer it got to base. His first instinct was a snowstorm, but no. No, this carried a different force. One of theirs to be more specific. He could make out all sorts of Atlesian vehicles roving across the pearly dunes. He had never seen that kind of formation in the line of duty before. It could only mean one thing…

Ortzi ran down to his commanding officers' chambers and alerted him to his findings. The two of them and several guards ventured out into the snows to investigate this. Some of them had their weapons pointed at the makeshift armada, weary of these newcomers. For all they knew, it could be bandits or the White Fang. But it quickly dawned on them that it was neither.

Sargent Reeds stumbled out of his jeep and into the arms of agent Tango. The younger man wrapped one of the elder's arms behind his neck and carried him over to the resident officer.

"Reeds," The soldier said in shock.

"Adler," Reeds coughed with a grin.

"The hell happened to you?" Adler inquired. "And what's with the army?"

"There's been an attack at Alizarin," Tango revealed. "It attracted some Grimm and they tore the whole thing down."

"Attack?" Ortzi. "From the White Fang?"

"No," retorted Reeds. "Something else entirely. Something new." He growled in pain as he rubbed his injury. "Agent Rubesco here can debrief you inside. Just get me and my men to an infirmary. Preferably now."

Everyone at Parchment ran to the aid of the survivors as Tango walked with Ortzi and Adler into the main building. Those that weren't corralling the people of Alizarin were getting into their battle stations. For all they knew, the Grimm may be following Reed's trail right now. It was only a matter of time before they caught up. And they had to be ready.

1 Hour after Arrival onto Remnant

Offroad paced around the raiders as they explained everything to him, trying to process the information. His universal translator didn't have many references to their world's tongue- save for the scraps of radio chatter he picked up upon planetfall- but he was able to make sense of it. Dust. Grimm. Mistral. Anima. Atlas. He hopped his newfound minion could make sense out of his words though.

"So this 'Dust' is like magic?" The Decepticon asked. "You can just throw spells at your enemies and power tech?"

"Only at the basic level," Confessed Chulk, the gang's leader. "You'd need training for any of the crazy stuff. And quite frankly, nobody here has the skill and patience for dat."

Offroad took a seat on the remains of his alt-mode's template. The Vehicons were running tests on the present Dust samples from their newfound "allies''. The results had been... mixed so far. Apparently there were multiple types of the so-called energy propellant on the planet. Some of their Energon converters either exploded or disintegrated, and most troops refuse to ingest any of the actual produce after witnessing this. Those that did didn't show any immediate signs of damage, but nobody was holding their hopes up. For all they know, the guinea pig-a-trons were rusting away on the inside as they spoke.

One of the servant-class Vehicons approached him. "Sir, we've finished collecting all the Dust from our native friends," He reported.

"And...?"

The Vehicon sighed. "Even if the stuff is safe for fueling, it's not enough for everyone present."

Offroad growled, turning to the human. "Where can we find more?" He asked him.

The man grinned. "Oh all sorts of places," He said. "Mines, the Kingdoms, villages, other tribes. We were just getting ready for a raid before you crashed our party… and our only rides."

Offroad glanced around the wreckage of the camp. True to the man's word, all of their vehicles were molten heaps.

"And let me guess," Offroad said. "You want us as your chariots?"

The man crossed his arms with a smile. "Pretty much," He replied "You help us, and you get a slice of the pie."

Offroad was silent for a minute. Then he promptly rose from his makeshift seat and converted to vehicle mode.

"Kick it into overdrive gearheads!" Ordered the Stunticon. "We're going on a road trip."

6 Hours after Arrival onto Remnant

Prowl growled as the Protectobots sped off. "Damn fools," He muttered under his breath. "Powerglide, after them."

The Aerialbot nodded and transformed to jetmode. As soon as he left the ship's hull, though, he found himself struggling against the winds. He ended up crashing into a snowbank not far from the shuttle. Even in this snowstorm, Prowl could see just how he fared.

He facepalmed and turned to Trailbreaker. "Whirl's not in any position to chase after them right now," He said. "You'll have to catch them before they scare the locals."

Trailbreaker nodded. "On it cap," He said as he transformed.

The tires of his new altmode tilted inward as a crimson energy flowed from their sides. The Autobot hovered over the snow as he entered the storm and gave chase. He was built for extreme environments like this. He could handle whatever the universe throws at him. The Protectobots, on the other hand, concerned him. None of them were designed to go through this. They belonged in the cities, among society. As he sped through the drifts, he prayed for their Sparks. They were going to need it.

The bots in question were already praying to Primus. They hardly have any means of gauging their current location. No GPS, no maps, not even a compass. All they had was the Sky Spy's trail, and it was easy to lose oneself in this weather. Setting their altmodes into hovering didn't help them too much either, not with the antigrav pads' limited area of effect. They had to take it slow for the artificial gravity fields to clear the snow around them. Charging at maximum overdrive would've just resulted in them burying themselves. As emergency bots, this was hardly the ideal situation or terrain for their wheels. But they were Protectobots dammit! And they would tread through high waters and the Pits if it meant saving lives.

Their radios suddenly roared into action during their daring trek. They could barely make out anything in the static, but they could at least trace it to its source. Looks like the Lord of Light was with them. When they finally reached their destination, however, it occurred to them that not everyone was shielded by His benevolence. Especially Non-Cybertronians.

Before them was a village under siege. The organics were either trying to hide from the ebony monsters or were fighting to their deaths. Already they could see at least a couple dozen dead, and many more were probably injured and dying. They could make out an outpost up ahead, though. The wounded and homeless were being sheltered at the hangers, if their designs and size were of any indication.

"I doubt music can soothe the local fauna, Groove ol' buddy," Streetwise noted. "We may have to fall back on force."

"I figured as much," Groove replied solemnly.

The smaller bot drove behind one of the huts and converted to Protoform mode. He conjured up twin blasters from his arms and took aim at the monsters running about. A few of them were instantly blown to bits by his shots, drawing the attention of several more.

"Hey Predacons!" He taunted. "Over here!"

Some of the beasts followed the sound of his voice to his hiding spot. Good. Less problems for the natives to deal with. As they surrounded him, Groove switched out his blasters for arm blades. He let the monsters strike first, ducking and weaving as they leapt toward him. Many were maimed or even bisected by his blades, with the missing appendages and occasional bodies vaporizing. Odd. They didn't seem like energy-based lifeforms to him.

Streetwise went for a more direct approach. His strategy was to drive around in vehicle mode and shoot anything ugly looking. Any that tried to charge him either got run over, shot, or simply missed as he hopped over them (with a controlled boost from his antigravs, of course). Any damage they landed would just bounce off of his altmode's armor. All in all it is like shooting dynametal ducks in a beryllium barrel. Or so it seemed.

The smaller and younger members of the horde were eager to get a bite out of the newcomers. The larger and more cunning specimens on the other hand were keeping their focus on the natives. As far as they were concerned, the cubs were distracting the metal giants. Unfortunately the numbers were in the humans' favor now. Without the youngbloods to swarm them, the troopers surrounded the village and opened fire on the monsters.

One of them- resembling a Krystar iron-bear from the Bots' perspective- rammed through Groove's cover in an attempt to escape the gunfire. It ended up stumbling and rolling over the robot, stunning both of them. By the time the Cybertronian got back onto his stabilizers, all eyes were on him.

"Aw scrap," The Protectobot cursed.

One of the natives shouted something to the others as he pointed at the mech. The soldiers opened fire on the bot and he found himself scrambling for cover. The bear seemed to have the same idea until it spotted a group of humans huddled together. Seeing an opportunity at hand, it trudged towards them while the defenders were busy with the alien. Some of them attempted to flee, but the snow slowed them down. The leaner members of the pack- pneuma-lions from the looks of them- noticed this and pounced on the runners. They didn't put up much of a fight.

Yet the beasts and natives seemed to have forgotten about Streetwise in the heat of things. He exploited this by ramming into another bear and firing at point blank range. The poor bastard's gibs flew through the air, disintegrating before they hit the snow. A trio of felines shifted their focus on him. He fired a few blasts at them, but it didn't last too long. To his horror his internal alarms were sounding off with a warning; he had depleted all of this mode's ammunition.

Streetwise growled. All he had left were his wheels and his bipedal form's arsenal. Shifting into the latter would put him in the natives' crosshairs, and he wasn't as nimble as Groove. But other lives were at stake here, and he'd already seen too much carnage for his personal liking already.

The larger mech turned his gaze to the slower brutes further ahead. He sped past the sabers and converted to Protoform mode, soaring over the snow. His feet were the first to meet one of the bears, knocking it into some fresh ruins further back. He converted one of his arms into a Scatter Blaster, firing at another bear. It ripped the thing to shreds and sent some of its spikes into one of its kin.

The last of the ursine began trekking towards the Autobot. He was taking aim when something collided into his back. It was the felines from earlier, and now they were pinning him down. Another object flew into the fray, thankfully knocking one of them off. Groove was hacking away at the creature while Streetwise grabbed one of the remaining two. He grabbed the tail by the joint connecting it to its backside and pulled hard on it. The appendage and spine were both ripped off, causing the head to collapse from the shoulders. The last cougar attempted to avenge its comrades, but a Scatter blast into its belly sent it skittering towards its grave.

A large claw managed to graze his leg's armor. He backed up to see the remaining bear from earlier scratching away at it. It didn't deal much damage before Groove bolted onto its back and slammed one of his blades into its neck, decapitating it. As the little bot leapt off the fading corpse, he turned his gaze towards the organics.

They just stared at the bots as they huddled together. Many of them whispered to one another in hushed tones, the rest just remained silent. His universal translator was sampling their dialogue for reference, decoding their alien tongue. He didn't need it to deduce what they were talking about though. Their fear was welded onto their faces. Yet the younger specimens didn't carry the same level of it as their elders.

One of the cubs left the pack and approached the mechs. The others protested and gave chase, but he didn't hear their words. The child practically had to swim through the snow to reach his objective. When he actually reached it, though, he didn't seem to react. He just stood there staring. Groove couldn't help but wonder if he was still processing the information before him, or if his fleshy processor was having a malfunction.

The boy was the first to speak. "Did Atlas send you?" He asked.

Both Autobots tilted their heads. They've heard the word pop up from the adults earlier, but they had no idea as to what it meant. Sounded like it was a person, though. Or a place. Could they be the soldiers' employers? Groove turned to Streetwise with a slightly concerned look on his faceplate. The larger bot could sense the question already. Should they lie and run with it, or should they tell the truth?

Someone else interrupted their train of thought before they could make a choice. A burst of lightning and a purple swirl collided just between the mechs and unleashed a strange energy. Their bodies went limp and fell into the winter's waves. Groove's first thought was that it had been an electromagnetic pulse, but no. No this felt different. It mimicked an EMP, but it sure as hell didn't feel like one.

The warrior-class surrounded them. Some of them broke off to tend to the villagers, placing themselves between them and the Cybertronians. They could feel something clamping onto their chassises and they were being pulled through the drifts. Back to their base no doubt. To be disassembled and dissected. Their sensors went offline before they could speculate any further. Stasis followed suit and the mind went blank.

2 Hours after Arrival, Mistrailic countryside

Varied. That's the best way to describe Anima. Varied biomes, diverse arts and cultures. There's nothing bland or uniform about it. As much as Mistral would like for the whole continent to conform to their way of life- their skewed view of standards- that was virtually impossible. Not everyone would fit into their definition of "perfect", especially the Faunus. The kingdom has a long history of abuse towards their cousins (though most "nobles" would scoff at such an implication).

Out here in the wilds, you had your own set of rules. For better or for worse, everyone has their own standards. Hardworking was a quality sought after out here. After all, how else are you gonna build and maintain a society if you just lay around all day? That said, there are those who would consider it a synonym to "indentured servitude", and many seek to exploit this. The village of Cork Tree did not welcome such views.

The surrounding region of Pacha Valley was nestled between two mountains, and was home to several more villages. Cork Tree happened to be at the center of these settlements, and more often than not served as the location of their coalition. No one from Mistral to tell them what to do, who can and can't do this and that. Some believe that with the right resources, they could become their own Kingdom. Nobody in the valley had any plans for that, though. The word alone left a sour taste in their mouths.

The soil between these mountains here was fertile and their harvest bountiful. So much so that they've had to hire Huntsman to guard the region. Bandits have long set their eyes on the region and made numerous attempts to pillage it. They'd cause some damage to the outer villages, but nothing permanent. They didn't have the firepower or brains for anything beyond that. And getting to the villages wasn't easy. The mountains can be traitorous to climb and the roads were often narrow. More often than not folk had to walk single-file to get through. It was more of an effort to get in than it was to leave.

Today marked a special day for the community, though. The day the Great War ended. The day that the villages could practice art freely. The day the Mistrialic Dynasty died. The valley celebrated this day with a parade, dancing, music, painting contest, vegetable contest, trading, and more. Such events brought in customers from the other villages, sometimes even visitors from Argus or the Kingdom itself. They often caught the attention of the Bandits but they didn't care. It wasn't like some unorganized thugs that much of a threat.

Today would not be one of those days.

A young man- or rather, Faunus- was gently pushing his way through the crowded festival grounds. His messy brown hair and bull horns made him stick out like a sore thumb among the villagers. His square head frantically twisted around this way and that, searching for his person of interest. His amber eyes fell upon a man flirting with a woman at a lemonade stand. The broad shoulder lad waded through the tide of tourists, issuing a wave of excuses and pardons as he moved.

At last he reached his query. The Faunus exchanged his pleasantries with the vendor and ordered himself a drink. While she was brewing it, he turned his attention towards his tutor. The man wore a navy-blue coat and thick black boots, with a grey sun hat atop his faintly -blond hair. An "ahem" from the Faunus startled the Huntsman, briefly causing his sunglasses to expose his crimson eyes.

"Bloody hell, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" The man playfully chided.

"Aren't you supposed to be guarding the people?" The taller individual replied.

"I am," The Huntsman replied. "Doesn't mean I can't enjoy them, though."

The man noticed the dirt on the boy's attire. The brown waterproof jacket shielded his salmon-and-yellow button-up flannel shirt from the muck and grim. The jeans and steel-tipped boots weren't so lucky.

"You look like you could use a break though," He noted. "How much weight have you been carrying around today?"

The Huntsman-in-training let out a sigh. "Not much, Raine," He confessed. "Not all of the patrons want to deal with a "blind bull" like me."

The human patted the Faunus on the shoulder. "Oh don't let those old relics weigh you down, Clay. They're living in the past. Your people earned the right to live like regular folk."

"It's not just the elders," Clay pointed out. "It's the younger generations too. They're more polite, but many are just as afraid of me as the gramps. I can see the fear in their eyes."

Raine frowned. "I'll admit that some folk have been giving me flak too," He said. "After what happened to Beacon and what not. Bad business there."

The woman finally fixed the boy's drink and handed it to him. She seemed to be avoiding eye contact with him, though.

"Still thinking about attending Haven after what happened?"

There was a pause. Many would have assumed he meant Beacon, but that wasn't the case. No it was something -nay, someone- more personal.

"Where else am I gonna get my training?" Clay retorted. "Beacon's a husk, Vacuo hates outsiders, and Atlas closed their doors on us. No, Haven is the only place open for anyone these days. Lionhart is the only Headmaster still holding out his hand."

Raine frowned at the mention of Lionhart. Clay was quick to pick up on this. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"That name," The professional said. "That's what. He hasn't exactly been… how should I put this? Haven't you noticed how hollow the Academy has become? Or how some Teams seemed to be short of a few books for their classes? Enrollments and staff at Haven Academy have declined over the years. All the workers I spoke with said they haven't been given notice or reason for being left off. There's been a drop in quality over there."

"So you're saying that he's slacking on the job?" Clay said with a raised eyebrow. "Then how come the halls are still tidy? And ain't college food crap anyways?"

"You've only been there for barely a year," Raine pointed out. "And… I don't know. All I know is Huntsmen have been dropping like flies here on Anima. Whether from a lack of quality or matters of life and death."

Clay lowered his face and pondered for a moment. At times the school did seem like a junkheap. He remembered watching Noelani and Zeru fight over the books all the time. How Iskra would gag at the sight of the food on certain days. How some students seemed to pick fights and hold grudges against one-another. Especially Humans and Faunus. He was lucky to have a decent Team. Lucky to find someone he could call "friend". Now they were scattered to the winds. Only Iskra remained at the Kingdom and she's-.

Clay swallowed a huge gulp of lemonade as his thoughts trailed back to her. A couple of tears slipped out from his ducts and dripped into the glass. He shook his head. She wouldn't want any of them to linger in the past. She'd want them to focus on the present. But how could he when her partner was in Solitas and his at Sanus? How could-

Something glimmered in the corner of his eye. He turned his gaze towards the surrounding cliffs and towards the sun. It was at its highest point of the day, high above the valley. It was dawn. At first he thought the glare came from the celestial body, but it popped back up again. This time at was at the cl-

"Look out!" Someone cried.

Something tackled him to the ground. Raine was right on top of him when something else soared over their heads. Something that exploded and rained dirt down on them. One of the turrets erupted into flames and they heard a roar descending from the cliffs. At first it seemed to be a battle cry, but there was also something else. Something mechanical. Engines?

Clay caught a glimpse of something tumbling down the rocky slopes. At first he thought it was a boulder, but no. No it was a pickup truck. One that was tumbling and spinning and flying down the slope like a lunatic. An ordinary person would've been disoriented as hell driving like that, yet somehow they kept their pace and momentum. The reason behind this came as a shock to everyone…

...the car transformed from a vehicle to a bipedal humanoid robot. A tower, ash-grey robot with blood-red eyes and a maniacal grin. The way it slid down the rocks and hopped around seemed almost organic from where the villagers were standing. Other bots followed suit, most in purple armor and with faceless visors. All of them were firing lasers at the village defenses. Watchtowers, turrets, even a volunteer guardsman or two. All of them reduced to smoking ruins. Some villagers tried to run, but they were either beaten to a bloody pulp or vaporized by the lasers.

Raine yanked Clay off the ground and dragged him behind a wagon. The man then reached for his backpack and unfolded it. It was converted into a grenade machinegun and he planted its stand on the rim. He let out a battle cry as he fired at the giant robots' legs. The Dust explosions consumed the limbs and sent the victims spiraling to the ground. Clay couldn't tell from the gunfire and explosions, but he could've sworn his Faunus ears heard some of the drones scream.

"What the hell are those things!?" A villager yelled over the chaos. "Did Atlas make them? I thought we were allies!"

"Since when did their robots scream in agony?" Clay pointed out.

One of the aforementioned drones fell right beside their cover. It reached for the meatbags with one of its claws but Clay had his weapon ready. Lawnmower- a folding frame that could switch between shotgun and trident- was jammed through the visor and into whatever machinery lay behind. The robot screamed in agony as the Faunus lad yanked the weapon back out and converted it into gunmode. He unloaded both bucks into the open wound, and the giant fell silent.

"We're getting swarmed here," Shouted Raine. "Clay, get to the radio station and send out a distress signal. Call in the gods-damned cavalry!"

"But-"

"GO!"

Clay glanced back at the Huntsman for a moment before a scream snapped him out of it. People were being rounded up or gunned down by bandits and their longer he played around, the more his home suffered. He broke off into a sprint and made a mad dash for the communications tower. He grabbed a broken wheel and used it as a shield, blocking regular bullets with it. A stray laser blast reduced it to ashes, but he wasn't concerned. He had already reached his destination by then.

It wasn't difficult to get the thing running. He and everyone else at Cork Tree ran all sorts of drills, including using the radio. Static erupted from the speakers before everything went silent. This was his only chance.

"This is Clay Kokinos of Cork Tree," He said. "We're under attack! Repeat, under attack! Some bandits rolled with… I don't know what. But they're rounding up everyone and gunning down anyone that ran. We need back and we ne-"

The radio shorted out before he could finish his sentence. Static flooded every screen near him while whitenoise polluted the speakers. An explosion tore the wall next to him apart, exposing him to the battlefield. There was a futuristic jet flying about, its aqua plating barely visible against the sky. It was bombarding the whole field and was rushing towards Raine. Clay could barely call out his name before a missile sent the Huntsman flying.

The grey-and-teal mech was approaching him now, converting one of its arms into something resembling a shotgun. Clay rushed to the man's aid, but the jet converted to bipedal mode and planted itself between the organics. The Bull Faunus fired at the robot, but a faint light flickered and bounced the pellets away from it. His reward for the effort was a kick to the face. That attack alone drained his Aura to critical levels and he struggled to rise back onto his feet.

By the time he did, it was too late. The wheeled mech fired its weapon at Raine and he vanished. There was no body, no blood, not even bone. All that remained of him was his shadow, burned into the earth. Whatever strength the boy had left died with the Huntsman. He just fell to his knees and let his head hang above the ground. He didn't resist when the flyer plucked him by his shirt and threw him into one of the barns. Whatever Aura he had left shattered as he bounced and skidded across the floor. All he could do was stare as the giants locked him and his fellow prisoners inside.

9 Hours after Arrival, Vale…

Rewind sat alone in Vale's library. It had been several hours since crash landing onto the world of Remnant and he was still processing everything. The datafiles that Hotspot scanned provided him with a basic understanding of the planet, but there were so many gaps and inconsistencies. He'd chalk it up to degradation of the original storage medium. Several months without maintenance can do a number on hard drives. He should know. He's a walking data-con.

To help fill in the gaps, he busied himself with the books of the Kingdom's library. Glynda was also kind enough to lend him access to the notes and journals of a "Doctor Oobleck". If the circumstances were different, he'd very much like to meet this being. His hope was that they'd provide some clarity to the mysteries of this world, but they proved him wrong too. Much of its history and cultures were lost to the mists of time. Whatever survived seemed to find themselves being converted and distorted into myth and legend.

First Aid meanwhile was conducting experiments with the substance called "Dust". It was a rather curious thing. It served as both this world's primary source of energy and their greatest weapon. When consumed by Cybertronians (or at least their technology) in its base forms, it appeared to have corrosive effects on their circuitry. If converted properly, though, it'd make for very potent Energon. The natives on the other hand could harness it to…

Perceptor would probably consider him a madman for even entertaining the notion, but Dust seemed to be a force of nature. Fireballs, lightning storms, tornados, hardlight shields, artificial gravity wells. He couldn't believe he was saying this, but this stuff screamed "magic". Kup once claimed to run into such powers on a planet called Prysmos. He originally thought he conjured it all up to stroke his veteran's pride but after seeing Glynda demonstrate to First Aid… He couldn't help but wonder if there was indeed some truth to the old timer's words. The implications fascinated and disturbed him.

Rewind had gone through his 117th book this hour. He hadn't just confined himself to history of course. Culinary arts, myths and legends, atlases, science and nature, even their fictional works. All to get an understanding of their cultures and views of the universe. Seeing them to be limited to this world (and mildly suggestive) didn't surprise him. What caught him off guard was their attempts at establishing satellites in the past. Apparently their main source of fuel lost its potency after leaving Remnant's atmosphere. This raised a lot of concerns with the Minicon. He decided it would be best to report these findings immediately.

Rewind snuck through the back of the library and onto the parking lots. Makeshift tents littered the whole space, with the occasional table here and there. Under normal circumstances they'd be bustling with the surviving students of Beacon. Glynda however called today's schedule in favor of "recuperation". So far none lingered behind to snoop around. Good. The less natives involved, the better.

Behind one of the tents sat Hot Spot, still in vehicle mode and stasis lock. First Aid was still running tests with the Dust while Noelani slept in their leader's cab. She could've easily shared space with her fellow organics in the tents here or elsewhere, but she chose an alien robot instead. Maybe she doesn't play well with others? She certainly didn't seem to like Glynda that much.

The chief medical officer spotted the Minicon and waved at him. "Ah, just the bot I need," First Aid said.

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing," Remind replied.

The medic's visor bent and shifted into a confused expression. Rewind transmitted his findings to the Protectobots' PDA and let him read it out himself. A "hmm" emitted from his voice box as his visor's blue glow dimmed and narrowed.

"Well this certainly complicates things," He mused. "If you're implying what I think you are, then your theory will require further testing. But I don't see any rockets lying around right now. For now we'll just have to ration our regular Energon reserves."

He took out an injector with a large glass canister of a glowing pink liquid. That Dust must indeed be potent if the Energon came out in that color. And it didn't take a genius as to what he was going to ask of him next.

"You sure this is safe?" Rewind asked. "I mean sure it's safe for our tech and all, but that's just tech. Why not wait till we find some redshirt, like an Autotrooper or Vehicon?"

"Three reasons," First Aid retorted, counting with each digit. "One; do you even see either of those right now? Two; your smaller frame will ingest and react to the Energon far quicker than an average Bulk. Any potential side effects on you will be instantaneous in comparison to me or Hot Spot. Three; you're still awake and can describe the symptoms to me."

Rewind crossed his arms and sighed. "If I die, Chromedome will be collecting your head."

"Duly noted," Said the medic as he injected the substance into Rewind's arm.

The world seemed to blur in that moment. His chassis was rattling like a Razor Snake's tail and his optics were flickering like crazy. Many bots would've panicked but First Aid kept his cool. He had to for his patients' sakes. All he could for now was observe.

Rewind himself became a blur and ran around the camp. First Aid's PDA indicated that he must've made at least ten laps in the last twelve seconds. Then he skidded to a stop, transforming between all three of his forms without rhythm or reason. Robot, tank, even his own PDA mode (for Bulks to hold that is). At this rate he may as well have drunk Red Energon. Thankfully the rush wore down after another sixteen seconds and the Minicon was back to normal.

Rewind was laying in a daze, muttering under his mouthguard. Most of it was gibberish, probably some useless trivia he picked up over the millions of years. He was more interested in what the scans had to say about the little outburst. The scans were initially off the charts after injection, but his little stampede had brought them back to regular levels. Maybe even saved his life for all the medic knew. If he had released that all exhaust energy- especially through his cannons- he could've literally blown their cover to pieces.

First Aid gently tapped Rewind's arm. To his relief the Minicon regained composure and was rising back onto his stabilizers. "I think you need to water that down some," The Minicon jested weakly.

"I should," First Aid admitted as he refueled the injector. "But my guts say Hot Spot can ride this out just as easily."

The medic gestured towards their commander's cab. Rewind nodded and opened the door for him. There, all curled up like a cat, lay Noelani. First Aid reached in and grabbed her by the back of her shirt, sitting her down some distance from them. This stirred her awake, first stretching out her arms with a yawn. When she finished rubbing her eyes, she looked to see the white robot-

Oh. She thought as the memories came running back. Explosion, Grimm gibs flying everywhere, Glynda just taking it all in stride. So last night wasn't some dream then. These guys really did fall out of the sky.

Their leader- Hot Spot was it?- shifted into his bipedal form and stumbled around for a bit. First Aid had to hold him for at least a minute to keep him from breaking something. The doors sung open and the girl instinctively activated her-

Her arms and back were both bare. She glanced around frantically for her weapons before seeing them right next to said door. They were in their base mode; a hoverboard. Yes a booster pack and vambraces with retractable armblades could combine to form a hoverboard. Thankfully the person between them and her wasn't a threat at all. It was just Glynda with a mug of coffee in hand.

Noelani's stomach growled after her eyes fell on the drink. Goodwitch chuckled. That wasn't something she expected someone of her reputation to do. Maybe she wasn't such a stuck up bitch after all.

"There should be some leftover biscuits in the tent over there," Glynda pointed with a mug. "A young lady like yourself still needs her daily greens after all."

Normally she would've told her to buzz off. But given the current circumstances, she'll let that remark slide. As she made her way to the makeshift cafeteria the Headmistress walked over to the giant robots. The living fire engine seemed to have grasped his bearings by now.

"Hell of a pick-me-up," The blue alien said. "What's in that stuff?"

"A question we ask ourselves on a daily basis," Glynda replied.

Hot Spot could see where this was going. He sighed. "But not the next one hundred?" He said as he clasped his nasal ridge with his fingers.

Glynda shook her head. "Afraid not," She confirmed. "And I have a feeling you have questions of your own."

She took a seat at one of the benches outside. Rewind ran up to the Protectobot leader and tapped his leg.

"I just so happen to have some presentations for scenarios like this," He revealed. "With your permission, I'd like to play them."

A nod from the bulk was all the approval he needed. Rewind tapped the side of his cranium and a little round device popped out from there. A blue light bounced forth and spread itself across one of the tents' sides. Images of their Cybertron- of before the Great War- began to manifest.

"By my calculations," Rewind began. "This all started around four million of your world's solar cycles.

Author's Notes

Huffer here uses his TF: Prime design.

Groove and Streetwise's designs would be using Bokuman's designs for a Fall of Cybertron rendition of them. I originally thought of making Groove's altmode resemble a Ghost from the Halo videogames (since Rooster Teeth's original popular series uses them for machinimas.), but the art changed my mind. I just love his work.

Rewind has a Tablet mode like his Titans Return toy. So I guess he has that figure's design too (though with the Collector's Club's tank mode. Maybe the bot mode too).

And here's another member of this fanfic's OC Team; Clay. He's the residential Faunus and muscle of the group. Speaking of them, the last two members do get named dropped. We'll be seeing Zeru next chapter. Iskra's… kinda out of the game right now.

Raine's name is taken from the list of Huntsmen from Volume 5's episode "Known by its Song". Is he Boyd Raine, though? Who knows. Maybe he will be by the next chapter. Maybe he'll just be someone with the same surname.

Noelani's weapon is… a hoverboard. Yes a hoverboard that can split into a jetpack and arm-blades. Call it crazy, but then again Reese's board split into pistols. So logic's already out the window at this point. Sorry Shockwave.

There were plans to place Alpha Bravo among the bots at Vale, but I've chosen a new location for him instead. That helicopter that appeared in the last chapter? That was gonna be him. Ah well. At least his commanding officer can scan it for him later. His altmode was gonna be based on the Eurocopter Dauphin, a design that Blades/Graze used for one of his toys. Since AB is taking that dude's place in this fanfic (And that they share the same mold in Combiner Wars), I figured that it'd suit him as well.