Skullcruncher
It had been nearly three hundred years since he had first come to Rodion from Simfur, and in that time he had lost his Nyonian accent, and the one adopted, while not quite full-on Rodion, would definitely let anyone listening know that he hailed from deep within Polyhex. But he had not yet abandoned his bestial shell mode. The main reason, only reason really, was that the boss liked it. 'A walking set of razor clamps' is how he described it, something to add to the intimidation factor of his crew, as if anything associated with the boss lacked any degree of intimidation factor. A bot could transform into a table, and as long as he was part of Overlord's crew, he'd be feared anywhere in the city; anywhere in the emirate, really. Hell, the boss was ten feet taller than the Prime, and the new Prime was a hulking brute. But it was more than just his physicality that made the boss so terrifying, it was the combination of his brilliance and ruthlessness that made him more the authority in these parts than the nobility. He was the smartest person Skull cruncher had ever known, and he was completely devoid of any sort of compassion or remorse. He was the perfect being, and Skullcruncher was lucky enough to work for him.
"Please, don't do this." The tiny voice escaped the crate that Skullcruncher was hauling over his shoulder worry-free through the bustling streets of Rodion, reminding him that even this perfect being he worked for had needs.
"This is going to happen." The robot grumbled through the same crack in the crate that the voice had come through as he turned into an alley and continued on past several down-and-out souls hovering over a shared bottle of cheap engex. "I recognize it's going to be scary, and it will probably hurt at first, but there have been a few that have enjoyed it from what I've been told. And frankly, you should be honored just to be in his presence."
"Who's presence?" The feminine voice came back. "What is he going to do to me?"
"Shhh," The powerful gray and pink robot cooed to his encased prisoner, "you'll find out very soon. We're here." The thug continued right up to the thick rusted door of the large building built along the riverfront and pushed it open with his foot; security measures were for those whom did not inspire absolute terror throughout the entire emirate. A moment later he was inside walking past aisles of stolen goods, cages barely large enough to hold the captives that were within, and stockpiles of illegal weaponry, armor and various forms of frame enhancements that no reputable medical facility would touch. Several of Skullcruncher's colleagues turned to look at him as he entered, all sending him an acknowledging nod and a malicious grin as they caught sight of the crate. None had witnessed what was about to happen with their own optics, but they all knew what was in store for the unfortunate femme within.
Skullcruncher carried the crate through the large warehouse, past a shipping dock and through a series of doors into a large office area where an enormous robot stood hunched over a table, studying a holographic overview of Rodion. "Sir, I have one for you, a pretty blue little number. Bitch has a lot of fight in her too, had to use two submission charges on her. She's still sluggish, but don't worry, she's fully conscious and she'll feel everything."
"That's nice." The giant replied almost indifferently as he continued studying the layout of the city they were in. "Skullcruncher, did you know that most doctors feel that the addictive qualities of circuit speeders are primarily psychological, but that there is an undeniable physiological pull to them as well?"
"Uh, well, yeah." Skullcruncher replied as he placed the crate down. "I mean, I haven't done any studies on it, but you can tell that junkies need it more than just because they think they need it. Even when they're offline you can see their withdrawal tremors."
"Yes. Well, there's apparently quantifiable evidence supporting that as well." The huge robot said, finally turning around. "Based on that, I wonder if there's a way to somehow infuse hotspots with some of the more addition-causing chemicals of the speeders, or specifically, our special formula of speeders." A broad smile came over his face. "Create a batch of loyal clients the moment they're born."
"Jeez Overlord, that's," Skullcruncher chuckled, "that's slaggin' diabolical."
"And probably not possible, but fun to consider." The giant replied as he walked over to the crate. "But for a more immediate boost to business, I've decided to brand our product, call it Surge, maybe even take out advertising for Surge."
"Advertising?" Skullcruncher questioned hesitantly. "For circuit speeders? Dontcha think that's a bit…you know, crazy?"
Overlord arched one of his optics as he peered at the much smaller Skullcruncher. "I'm a sociopath, not a psychopath, my plans may be considered evil, and they're definitely ambitious, daring and often dangerous, but they're not crazy. Yes, it'd be an open invitation for law enforcement, it might be seen as a slap in the face to the powers that be…and I'm fine with that. I haven't had a good fight…well, I don't think I've ever had a good fight, certainly not if challenging constitutes good."
"Sir, you're the baddest being in existence, but after you've killed the cops, House Macht will send their army, and if we manage to beat them, Sentinel Prime will charge in with the planetary army." Skullcruncher replied. "We just don't have enough guns for all that."
"No," Overlord sighed indifferently, "not yet anyway." He then chuckled. "Fortunately I know for a fact that Militus Macht will be more than happy to let us do whatever we want if we don't openly challenge him in any way…and I may have to give him a small cut so that he can save face. For all his tough-guy appearance and threatening bravado, he's ultimately just a coward terrified of another Galvatron rising up to make him a bitch the way Jugatus was made a bitch." The thirty-six foot tall robot displayed a grin as he looked upon the crate. "Now let's see what you've brought me." Overlord reached over and effortlessly pried the front of the metal crate off, revealing a cowering and still sluggish blue femme within.
"Told ya she was cute." Skullcruncher grinned.
"You certainly didn't exaggerate." Overlord smiled as he peered lecherously at the terrified captive. He lowered his massive hand, open to the femme. "Come out my dear, let us take a better look at you." The femme just stayed crouched within the crate, staring with terror-filled optics at the impossibly large robot grinning down at her. With a grace that defied his massive bulk, the giant lowered his hand and gently gripped hers, lifting her up gently, possessing just the force required to make her rise against her will, and pulled her closer to him. "You really are a beauty. What is your name?"
"Puuhhh, puuhhhleeease, don't hurt me." The still-groggy and disoriented femme whimpered. "Juh, just let me go, please."
Overlord gently grazed his finger down her cheek and shushed her. "Shhhh, it's alright. I'll explain everything, but let's start with your name."
The femme stared up into his optics high above, a look of hopefulness on her face, a desperate clinging to the seeming kindness he was showing now leading to her release. "Ca…Chromia. Mmm, my name is Chromia."
Overlord smiled. "A beautiful name for a beautiful femme." He cupped her cheeks in his massive hands. Skullcruncher grinned at the odd sight, his boss stood more than two and a half times the femme's height, each of his legs was taller than she was. "I'm afraid that there will be pain, my dear Chromia, there must be, for both of us. There's no painless way to expose the sparks of conscious individuals, but that pain will be replaced by the most intense and wonderful pleasure you've ever known, that is, if you let yourself enjoy it."
"No, no, no no no…"
"It's alright, my beauty, everything will be alright." Overlord's smile widened. "Our sparks will mingle,"
"NO!" The cry from the femme was Skullcruncher's cue to give them a little privacy. He turned, a grin on his face as he headed toward the door, closing it behind him, keeping prying optics out, but not doing much to muffle the cries of the victim, and the laughter that would be emanating out of Overlord shortly.
"What's she look like?" Skullcruncher looked over and saw Darkwing approaching him.
"What do you care?" Skullcruncher shot back. He wasn't fond of Darkwing, or his friend Dreadwind for that matter. Two saps lucky enough to have aerial compatible shell modes, and thanks to being a part of Overlord's crew and his graciousness to his underlings, they had those shells fully upgraded to jet modes. Yet despite their amazing good fortune all they did all day was bitch and moan. "Eventually she's going to be nothing but rusted out dust like the rest of us right, so why does it matter how slaggin' pretty she is now?"
More screaming and a cruel laugh emerged through the door, defusing the tension between Darkwing and Skullcruncher and eliciting a light laugh from the two of them. "I'm not as bad as Dreadwind, I can still appreciate a pretty face and form. And one of the few things I can derive enjoyment from is hearing the boss having fun."
"Don't you pervs have anything better to do that eavesdrop on Overlord mingling with today's conquest?" The green and yellow robot walking toward them barked.
"Not right now, Crunch." Skullcruncher shot back with a smile. "Care to enjoy the show with us?"
"Actually, Crunch, I'm probably due for a break as well." The newcomer replied and leaned against the wall next to the other two.
Dreadwing looked at from one robot to the other. "So Gutcruncher, you tell Skull about the boss's plan to distribute Surge into other emirates?"
"Ha!" Skullcruncher belted. "I just now found out our stuff has a name. I sure as hell don't know about expanding the customer base."
"Yeah," Gutcruncher replied, "gonna start with the south, go as far north as Simfur, see how that goes before thinking about expanding further."
"Primus, the boss it too fearless for his own good." Skullcruncher groaned. "Branding an illegal drug is bad enough, but then advertising and distributing to other emirates, that's just an open invitation for the Primal forces to take notice and step in."
"We might wanna get our own house in order before we start conquering the rest of the world." Darkwing muttered.
"Whattaya mean?" Skullcruncher replied.
"He's just jittery because a few of our street level operators have been pinched recently." Gutcruncher pointed out, apparently unworried.
"Who in the pit is going to go after our guys?" Skullcruncher asked in surprised annoyance. "He not know which are ours and which are fair game?"
"Yeah, probably; new guy from Iacon." Gutcruncher replied. "Sent here a couple months ago, our guys in the constabulary said it was a punishment or something for pissing off the Honorums."
"Punishment?" Skullcruncher chuckled. "Cops here have it made."
"Not clean ones, and he's clean." Gutcruncher shrugged. "Apparently so clean House Pax adopted him or something."
Skullcruncher looked back and forth between the other two before bursting out laughing. "A member of a royal northern house is a beat cop in Rodion? Are you slaggin' kidding me?"
Gutcruncher chuckled as well, and Darkwing just smiled as he paid more attention to the sounds of the intimate assault going on in the next room, focusing a bit more on them as the sounds seemed to be dying down a bit. "Well, he's technically not a royal, not yet anyway. Needs to reach the age of self-determination before adoption can take place. Guess he wasn't born in the Torus Heights."
"Reach the age…how old is this guy?" Skullcruncher asked.
"Old enough to know better!" Overlord's voice called out through the door, and a moment later it opened and he came stumbling out, slightly disoriented. His inner chest armor was exposed, itself having just sealed seconds before, and his specially constructed outer armor slowly shutting into place. "I'll be talking to Captain Momus about this eager young Iaconian later today. I actually want him to make regular arrests, even of our people, it provides a sense of normalcy and an air of integrity to the city, but I need to be the one that selects who gets arrested."
The other three nodded, and then one by one looked into the room at the blue victim laid out on a table, barely conscious and in shock, her chest armor having been torn open and then bent back into place afterward, her frame shuddering every few seconds. "What about her, she going to survive?"
Overlord smiled. "Chromia? Oh yes, she's a strong one. She'll be making a full recovery…" a low, sadistic chuckled escaped his lips, "physically anyway."
Springarm
The kid wasn't making any friends, that was for sure. Springarm seemed to be the exception, he genuinely like the guy, but everyone else seemed to fall into a range from mild annoyance to outright anger. For one, he was a commoner with a royal name, which even Springarm had to admit was a bit off-putting. It's not like he put on airs or anything, he was very humble in fact, despite his obvious education, abilities and always annoying perfect grammar. But just having the name Pax was enough to make everyone else in the precinct house consider him an arrogant whelp who held himself higher than the others. Secondly, he just couldn't accept how things were. Rodion was an interesting place; interesting being a direct substitute for the word bad. But as bad as it was, it could always be worse. There was a delicate but respected understanding between the cops and criminals here. The criminals ran the show, but the cops were representatives of the Macht government and the planetary government as well, and as such needed to be seen as the authority, and were expected to achieve results. So basically any unaffiliated criminals were hunted down vigorously, basic street gangs would have members arrested from time to time but never enough to upset their overall business, and the few powerful organizations would periodically select certain members to be arrested and supply their names and evidence against them to the police. It was all done to maintain the status quo, but unfortunately Orion Pax had no respect for the status quo. Not yet anyway; though he showed little sign of it, he was still very, very young. And lastly, even when he wasn't acting to screw up the status quo, he simply made the other cops look bad. He was brilliant, partly due to the education he had received in person at Tyger Pax, which he was continuing remotely with House Pax's polyhistor, as well as his remote Academy training, but also due to the innate nature of his mind. He grasped things impossibly fast, his only limitations were his own enhanced humility and a sense of morality that kept him from any degree of ethical impropriety, and that made most of the other constables look poorly in comparison. But whether in spite of all this or because of it, Springarm just couldn't help but like the guy. "Seriously, you wouldn't want a fusion canon?"
"Why would I want a fusion canon?" Orion Pax asked as the two of them walked down the sidewalk of a small merchant district in downtown Rodion, cutting through the bustle of the people. "It's indiscriminate, and so powerful that even if you hit your target dead on, vast collateral damage would be unavoidable." Orion smiled and nodded to a few merchants, who met the smile with looks of suspicion, fear and slight anger. Despite their almost hostile reaction, Orion continued smiling to those he passed. "I recognize the need for us to carry firearms, but there's no reason we would need more than the sidearm we've been issued."
Springarm's head leaned back as a loud laugh cut out from his mouth. "Oh, man, are you serious?" He looked over to Orion, who met his question with a look of annoyance. "Look Pax, you say a fusion canon is too much, fine, you can certainly make a case for that; hell, no need for a case, you're right, a fusion canon is too much, but that doesn't mean you need to swing all the way to the other end of the spectrum and claim these pea-shooters are sufficient."
"You don't think they'd suffice for any situation we'd face here?" Orion asked, though from the new look coming over his face he seemed to be acknowledging several situations where Springarm's assertion may be correct.
Springarm however was too eager to answer the question to allow Orion to withdraw it. "Primus, you're kidding, right? Let's say you're a scumbag loaded up on speeders, and you're charging down on me. Would I have a chance of stopping you from pulling off my head by firing on you with this toy?" Springarm gestured to the weapon holstered at his side. "Be honest."
Orion peered up and down the street, hesitant to reply, but finally nodded. "Alright, yes, you're right, there are scenarios where our sidearm would be insufficient, but for the vast majority of situations they're more than enough."
"Vast majority in Polarus, Iacon, or here?" Springarm added with a smile.
Orion smiled as well. "Definitely Polarus, a stick would be sufficient there in most cases, though I do recall a situation where the use of a pair of subjugation chips was justifiable, though for one of the perpetrators not necessary."
"Oh, feeling guilty about electrocuting a perp?" Springarm asked with a smile.
"I was that perp." Orion replied, an embarrassed smile on his face.
"What?" Springarm stopped and grabbed Orion by the arm, turning him so they faced one another. "Wow! You did a bad thing?"
"I was in a tavern while underage." Orion replied, turning to continue their patrol.
Springarm rolled his optics disappointedly. "You're still underage, and will continue to be for a very long time." Springarm snarked. "And even here in Rodion, subjugating a kid for being in a pub would be seen as police brutality. Hell, even Captain Momus would be inclined to write up an officer for doing that, and he's helped smelt…uhm, never mind. So how long were you tweaking after getting hit with a chip?"
Orion eyed Springarm warily, but let the comment regarding their captain potentially aiding in the cover up of something slide for the moment. "I was in the middle of a brawl. The use of the chip was justified, It didn't come out that I was a kid until later. The subjugation was…uncomfortable, but I pried the chip off after only a few seconds."
"Pried it off?" Springarm was stunned. "You say that like it's not impossible."
Orion ignored his comrade's surprised comment. "But barring rare incidences like that, yeah, nothing more than a stick is needed in Polarus."
"Even for busting that speeder lab?" Springarm grinned slyly at Orion's look of surprise. "You're a young royal being sent to the worst precinct on the planet, are you really surprised we read up on you? But the tale of you being a juvenile delinquent was left out of the report."
"Hmmm." Orion grumbled. "OK, fine, more than a stick. And Iacon can be extremely dicey in certain sections, you'd definitely need more than a stick there, that's for sure. Rodion is dicey everywhere, but yes, even here, our sidearm should be enough in the vast majority of cases."
"Keep poking at the Overlord, and you may find out firsthand how inadequate that pea-shooter really is." Springarm replied, a light chuckle in his throat.
"I doubt he exists, and even if he does, the power of both his frame and his organization have been undoubtedly exaggerated. And even if they haven't, I've gotten the better of a thirty-six footer before." Orion replied as they noticed a commotion up ahead. "What's going on there?"
Up ahead at a small market a hullabaloo was brewing, upon closer scrutiny both Orion and Springarm could see that fellow officers Wheelarch and Whirl were having what appeared to be an argument with the proprietor of the store. Whirl looked up and saw the pair approaching them. "Speak of Unicron, and the horned asshole appears."
"I beg your pardon?" Orion asked, a little angered at the cycloptic officer's tone and language.
Wheelarch pushed Whirl aside and addressed Orion, jerking his thumb at the agitated owner of the store. "Apparently this guy was robbed, but is only willing to talk to you."
The owner turned to Orion, and walked toward him, excitedly. "You, are you da' Pax?" He asked in a thick Yussian accent.
"I am Orion Pax, though I am not a noble." Orion replied, noting the confusion of the proprietor. "I was born in Iacon, but raised by the Pax's in Tyger Pax. They have extended an offer to join their house, which I can choose to accept once I reach the age of self determination."
The merchant peered at him uncertainly. "Are you da' Pax?" He looked away, almost panicked for a moment as he tried to explain what he needed. "House Pax, they…they are justice. Freedom right of all. Truth greater than power, truth greater than authority,…they…they…" he looked pleadingly up at Orion, who nodded his understanding and placed his hand on the merchant's shoulder reassuringly.
"I am Orion of House Pax." He stated authoritatively. "Tell me what you need to tell me."
The merchant smiled up at him. "Yes…yes, good. I am Huxx, I come from Yuss to open my store. I make good living, but criminals, they insist I pay money for them to protect me, but they are the only ones I need protection from. I tell police, but they never care, tell me to piss off before I have to pay them for protection too. So I pay criminals, but they keep demanding more, they take my products, they push around my clients. Then today, criminals drag client out of store, a pretty femme, they beat me when I try to stop them, they shoot us both," Huxx held up a small disk, "it make me drop, fall, it make me unable to fight,"
"Submission charges." Springarm noted as Orion picked the disk out of Huxx's hand. "They'd probably just tickle a guy who plucks off subjugation chips, but they put most bots down for awhile."
"I'm familiar with them." Orion replied as he studied the chip, then looked to Huxx. "Are you injured?"
"No, I am fine, but lady, they put her in crate," Huxx hurriedly explained, "big one, big one with animal shell, he take her away!" They heard Whirl groan lightly and he looked over at the blue officer angrily before turning back to Orion. "They take her! Police not care, but you, you are a Pax! You must protect!"
Orion nodded. "Describe everything, starting with the victim."
Springarm watched as Orion started taking all the details, but heard Whirl starting a conversation over a communications channel. "Hey Momus, yeah, it's me. Here at a piece of shit bodega where the owner is saying someone with Skullcruncher's description busted stuff up and kidnapped a femme." Whirl paused as he listened to the response, then shot back. "Yeah I know who he's with, my net ain't creeped out yet, I'm not telling you this to make it priority one, I'm telling you this because the shopkeeper is telling Pax, and the kid is intent on saving the slaggin' day." Springarm glared at Whirl, who noted the stare and replied by having his optic change shades to red and glow intensely. His optic suddenly changed back to normal and he turned away as he heard something that surprised him. "Whaddaya mean let him proceed? You wanna start a war?" He paused again as he listened. "Oooo, OK, will do. Consider Officer Save-A-Ho off the leash."
Springarm continued staring at Whirl as he closed the channel and started walking toward Orion. "What was that about?"
"Police business." Whirl snapped as he bumped shoulders with Springarm and continued to Orion questioning Huxx. "What you got?"
"Kidnapping, likely bound for slave trade or worse. Blue femme, going to look at security footage from the store to get full image." Orion stated, following after Huxx as the shop owner started leading him into his store. "Alert Momus, let him know what's going on."
"Funny thing, I just did that." Whirl replied.
"I don't care what he said, I am investigating this and I'm going to find that citizen!" Orion snapped back.
"Naw kid, it's not like that." Whirl came back. "He can't afford to give you any support, but he wants you to see this through."
Orion stared at him intensely for a moment, knowing that there was some deception going on, but unable to deal with it until the situation with the kidnapped femme was resolved. "Alright. I'll see you later."
Whirl nodded and turned to Wheelarch and Springarm. "You two, Momus wants us back at the house."
Terminus
He was permitted to enter much of Castle Macht whenever he wanted, though the inner section, the living quarters of the Machts', was accessed by invitation only. The old bot had been informed that Megatron was at Castle Macht, and was hoping that the young gladiator, the young…killer, was somewhere Terminus could find him. He had long imagined what Megatron's fate would be, and in nearly every scenario it involved him taking lives, but Terminus had always assumed, or perhaps hoped, that the first time his protégé took a life there would be a pause, some hesitation, even if it was necessary. The old robot was stunned to the point of nearly being sick when watching Megatron kill for the first time, a killing that was devoid of necessity or pause. Militus was taking Terminus's champion and successfully turning him into a monster.
Terminus walked through the courtyard, passing meek servants and big dangerous-looking guards until spying Straxus coming out of the main entrance. "Lord Straxus, a word please." Terminus called out the request, though it was one that he would not accept a refusal of.
"What is it, Terminus?" The rotund low noble growled.
"Have you seen Megatron?"
"The arrogant shit you unleashed on us all?" Straxus snapped. "Yeah, he's in one of the side rooms in the library. Lord Militus called in some people for him to meet with."
"People?" Terminus asked.
"I don't know, some people Megatron asked Lord Macht to invite, and in his graciousness, Lord Macht granted him the request." Straxus replied, doing little to hide his jealousy and disgust. "I'm not one to question my better, but I fear Emir Macht indulges that commoner far too much."
"Thank you for your assistance, Lord Straxus." Terminus replied before heading toward the library. Formal permission had not been granted to him to enter the library, but he had served House Macht for a very long time, and recently as Megatron's mentor he had been allowed more access to the fortress than ever. Hopefully nobody would question his presence there.
As he entered the seemingly deserted library he could make out a voice coming from a small room on the far end. He quietly approached the room; he had no intention of interrupting anything, but he could no longer put off waiting for Megatron to make time for him. As he got closer the words became clear enough for him to make them out.
"Oh, slag Kokular! I laugh at all claims of impenetrability when it comes to fortresses, and obviously so did Gallus Honorum!" The unknown feminine voice boasted. "Fixed fortifications are monuments to a Cybertronian's stupidity!"
Terminus paused and leaned against the wall, actively attempting to eavesdrop, and heard his protégé mirthfully reply. "Very true, though until they come tumbling down they can serve as an effective symbol. Intimidation can be a potent weapon, can it not?"
"Perhaps." The question was answered by a masculine voice which Terminus did not know. "For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill."
"Balderdash!" The feminine voice grumbled.
"But one must also be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness." The masculine voice continued, ignoring the protest from the female companion. "Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of your opponent's fate."
"You'll have to excuse Obsidian, he's more on the philosophical plain of battle tactics, and less on the practical level you and I are on." The feminine voice replied, the name she presented caused Terminus's spark to freeze up. There had been two wars of southern aggression, and countless smaller skirmishes between them, and through each one there were two prevalent names. Two generals who achieved countless victories. If the male was Obsidian, then the current speaker could be none other than his paramour Strika. "Beyond all the strategies and tactics that we've gone over with you today, the thing you must remember most is that by perseverance, study, and eternal desire, any being can become great. Oh, and that a good plan, violently executed now, is better than the perfect plan executed next week. Oh, and in war the only sure defense is offense, and the efficiency of the offense depends on the warlike souls of those conduct…"
"What you must remember most," Obsidian interrupted, "is that all warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near."
"Balderdash!" Strika grumbled again. "War is simple, direct, and ruthless!"
"But was it not you who said 'the leader must be an actor'?" Obsidian countered.
"Maybe, but I've said much better stuff than that." She replied, eliciting a good natured chuckle from both Megatron and Obsidian.
"Deception, young Megatron." Obsidian instructed. "For both your pit fights as well as whatever other endeavors you choose to use our tutelage toward."
"Thank you my lord and lady," Megatron replied, for once lacking any venom when presenting the words lord and lady, "but the gladiatorial pits are the only outlet I will have to utilize these incredibly valuable lessons."
"Ha!" Strika belted out. "Planning on having a lot of attrition and siege warfare in these pits? Your promoters can actually find spectators willing to pay to sit through weeks of that?"
"My consort is correct," Obsidian replied, "only a small portion of what we've shared with you will be applicable to battles in arenas fought between individual squads. You have been pressing us primarily for our wisdom in large scale warfare that will not serve a mere gladiator."
Terminus continued waiting outside the room, not daring to look inside, but despite not being able to see what was happening, he knew Megatron well enough to know he was displaying a knowing smile right now. "My lord general, I am merely trying to take your greatest lesson to heart."
"Ha!" Obsidian belted out. "Well said my young deceiver! Perhaps you will take your place at our side someday as one of Cybertron's greatest military protectors."
"You honor me my lord." Megatron replied humbly.
"This truly was a pleasure." Strika stated as the sounds of their frames pushing away from their chairs prompted Terminus to quietly reposition himself to another part of the library and pretend to be focused on one of the data pads there, "but it is time we left."
"Good luck in the pits, young Megatron." Obsidian said as they exited the room. The two legendary generals continued toward the door without acknowledging Terminus at all, while Megatron sent him a heated stare before turning his attention back to the guests and walking them to the door.
"I thank you both for your invaluable tutelage." Megatron stated with absolute sincerity. "May I contact either of you in the future with questions or for advice?"
"Absolutely!" Strika replied. "While we are constantly questioned about our philosophies or tales of our battles, it is rarely if ever by someone with a mind as acute as yours."
"Yes, we would be honored and happy to have further discussions with you." Obsidian continued. "We expect to hear of you prominently in the vorns to come."
"Thank you my lord and lady." Megatron bowed as he held the door for them and watched them leave. He then turned toward Terminus. "Looking for a good pad to read? I've spent a great deal of time here recently, I can recommend a few, though I tend to stick to the military history and philosophy sections, which can be kind of dry to some."
Terminus put the data pad he had been pretending to study back on the shelf and marched over to Megatron. "I knew that in all likelihood you would someday be in a position where you would have to take a life." He stopped in front of Megatron and glared at him. "I never imagined that you would charge into it almost mirthfully, embracing a need to kill that could have been easily, hell, effortlessly avoided! And I never imagined that you would treat the life of, not even an enemy, but an opponent, so disrespectfully, as if their life were utterly insignificant! That is not how I raised you!"
"You did not raise me!" Megatron snarled. "You watched me pull myself from a pit. You gave me a name, you set me up and allowed me to raise myself. Which is fine, that's to be expected, frankly that's far more than most do and that I've ever done for another. I am grateful for that, and definitely do not begrudge you for not doing more, but you did not raise me." Megatron softened his tone. "You are my closest friend, you mean more to me than anyone else in the world, but the kindnesses and opportunities you've provided me do not entitle you to tell me how to act or what to do. I am no longer a protoform; while young, I have long exceeded the age of self determination. I am fully capable of choosing my own path, and you can no longer prevent me from doing so."
Terminus stared at Megatron for a bit before nodding. "You're right about all that, I don't disagree with any of it. But I still can and will convey my shock and outrage at what you did to Hydrau in the pit. You used him as nothing more than a tool to prove your power to the oil-thirsty masses. He was nothing more than fodder for your path to glory."
Megatron met his gaze evenly, a stone expression coming over his face. "Everything is fodder." With that Megatron turned and marched toward the door, Terminus following after him.
"Those are Militus Macht's words coming out of your mouth!" Terminus growled.
"The words coming out of my mouth will always and only be mine." Megatron snapped back his reply. "If others happen to agree with them, so be it."
"Why the interest in military history and strategy?" Terminus asked heatedly as he caught up and marched alongside Megatron. "Why did you request that Cybertron's greatest living generals meet with and instruct you?"
Megatron snickered. "The pits are trending more toward themed fights involving small groups. It's going to be less about one mech fighting another, more about teams, often in specifically designed environments. Sometimes they'll be reenactments of historical battles. This was the reasoning I gave Lord Macht for having him arrange this session."
"But what's the real reason you had him arrange it?" Terminus asked accusingly.
Megatron halted and turned to face Terminus. "For now, that's the only reason I'm going to give." A small smile came to the corner of his mouth. "After all, all warfare is based on deception."
For the first time in his life, Terminus was becoming scared of Megatron. After a long pause he replied quietly. "We're not at war." Megatron remained silent, but his smile broadened, and he turned and continued marching toward the front of Castle Macht. Terminus just allowed him to go, staring at the wall as his protégé slipped away from him.
Elita Solus
It had taken a lot of persuasion, but Exponum had finally allowed her to travel with a shipment of supplies to Ratchet's clinic all by herself. Of course he had purchased an armored transport and arranged to have it ready for her when she arrived in Rodion, and paid a private company to load the freighter while she remained in the relative safety of the cab. She had drawn the line at his request to employ a security team to guard her. She was a highly trained warrior and smart enough to avoid trouble, she could drop off the medical supplies and get back home without incident.
And so far, everything was going well. The supplies had been dropped off, put away, and Elita was now assisting Ratchet with some of his patients. As bad as the city had been the first time she'd visited, it had gotten worse. Ratchet had been correct about the impact of the fight circuit on central Rodion, crime had gotten worse and his clinic was now overflowing with individuals in need of varying degrees of attention. Fortunately nobody seemed to be in critical condition, but that could change at any minute. Currently Elita was using clamps and a laser scalpel to close a gash in a patient's leg and weld it shut. The patient was the lowliest of commoners, likely intoxicated on speeders or cheap engex, and just stared at Elita. While off-putting, the stare wasn't noticeably threatening, so she continued about her work on him and remained pleasant.
There was a mild, almost imperceptible sensation that seemed to be coming from her spark suddenly, but the sound of the door opening and shutting behind her forced her to dismiss the odd feeling and recognize that her plan to leave shortly may be delayed once again. Ratchet had stressed that she was under no obligation to stay and help, and that she should leave, but she felt it her duty to stick around and help as much as she could. She had not given up her views on, and support of, the nobility system, but she had come to view these commoners as people deserving of respect, health and good treatment. "We'll be right with you, please sign in." She acknowledged the newcomer without turning to look at him or her, and once again completely disregarded the mild sensation within her.
"I'm not a patient, I'm here to speak with Ratchet." The deep voice stated behind her.
"Well he's busy in the back with a patient, so you're going to have to wait." Elita replied, still focused on her patient's leg.
"Is the patient he's working on in a life threatening situation?" The visitor asked.
What an annoying…. "I don't see how that's any of your business." Elita replied, still not turning around to face him.
"I apologize, but this is an emergency, and provided he's not keeping someone from spark failure or long term brain module damage, I'm going back there." The visitor replied, not disrespectfully, but making it clear he was not going to be dissuaded.
The welding of the leg finished, Elita righted herself and spun around to look at this extremely annoying, demanding and insolent individual. "You will do no such…" her optics locked onto him and she froze. He was stunning, she'd say perfect were it not for the scuffs and tarnishing all over his impossibly athletic frame, but she immediately regained her composure, and readopted her anger. "thing!" She stared up into his optics. "What is the nature of your emergency?"
The red and blue robot peered back at her quietly for a moment. Could he be as staggered by her as she had been when confronted by him? "Police business." He finally spit out.
"Police business?" Elita spat back. "Are you suggesting that Ratchet is in any sort of trouble? He's about the only good thing this town has left, and you're telling me the police are interested in him?"
The officer merely smiled. "No, he's not in any sort of trouble, and yes, while I disagree that he's the only good thing in Rodion, I do agree that he may be the best thing this city has going for it. And the police aren't interested in him, just me. Believe it or not, he and I are…well, we don't know each other that well, but I like to think we're friends, or at least headed in that direction."
"Be that as it may, you still need to wait out here for him." Elita stated firmly.
"If I walk back there, is a patient going to die?" The officer asked, a bit of impatience entering into his voice.
"That's none of your…" Elita started saying, but stopped as the officer brushed right past her and started heading back into the clinic.
"That's a no." The officer stated as he headed toward the back. "Were it a yes, you'd have said as much."
"I don't care, you get back here now!" Elita called after him. When he didn't stop she threw a punch to the small of his back. She expected him to collapse into a ball, but she barely got a grunt out of him.
He turned and looked at her, not threateningly or even angrily, just with a look of surprise. "You strike very well, so please don't do that again. I assure you, Ratchet won't mind seeing me and this is very important."
Elita paused. The way he spoke, and carried himself, and, well, other factors gave her the impression that he wasn't just a typical commoner. In fact, if he were polished and in a different environment, she'd guess him to be a noble. But even if that unlikelihood was true, he still had no right to just barge in, so she continued following after him as he continued to the back room of the clinic.
The officer opened the door and entered a room, Ratchet raised his gaze up away from the patient on his slab and locked optics with the officer. "Damnit, what the hell are you doing here?"
"I thought he wouldn't mind seeing you?" Elita grumbled. "I apologize Ratchet, he just barged in here. I tried to stop him."
"It's fine Elita," Ratchet said, still staring at the officer. "Well, make yourself useful. This dipstick wandered out in front of a speeding transport while stoned out of his melon on speeders and engex, and it's up to me to put his innards back where they belong."
The officer nodded. "He out?"
Ratchet nodded. "Has been offline since the impact. We can talk."
The officer nodded his head toward Elita as he stepped up to the patient and began demonstrating an impressive degree of medical know-how in putting his right leg back together. Ratchet looked to the suddenly surprised and more than a little impressed Elita. "She's as trustworthy as you are, and probably as big a do-gooder too. I'm assuming that's why you're here; more of your do-gooding?"
"It's my job." The officer replied.
"You've been in this city long enough to know that's not your job." Ratchet replied.
"There is a great deal of corruption and apathy in my department, but serving and protecting the public is still and always will be my job." The officer replied. He was a bit hokey, but Elita was starting to warm up to him. He raised his optics and looked earnestly into Ratchet's. "A femme was kidnapped this morning. Blue, pretty, fourteen to fifteen feet in height. The description of the leader of the group that grabbed her appears to be a match for an individual named Skullcruncher. I'm aware of a slave trade, and I've heard the rumors that Rodion provides it a large source of supply. I need to shut it down…I need to find this femme. Where can I find Skullcruncher?"
Ratchet shook his head. "Look kid, I wish…"
A holographic image of the victim standing in the store shot out from the officer's wrist. "According to the database, her name is Chromia."
Ratchet stared at the image for several seconds before looking back up at the officer. "Very clever, slap a name and a face on the victim and there's no way I can refuse, is that it?"
"Yes, that's it." The officer replied with a sly grin as he continued working on the patient.
"Frankly kid, that's overkill." Ratchet replied. "I'd help without those things. But the fact is that I don't know where you can find Skullcruncher. Well…" the doctor paused, "I'm pretty sure he frequents Evicerator's. It's a shithole in the southern quadrant."
"I know where Evicerator's is." The officer replied. "Thanks Ratchet, I had really hit a wall on this."
"What, the kid who cracked the Spark Collector case gets stuck trying to find a nitwit like Skullcruncher?" Ratchet smiled as he went back to work on his patient. "You gonna be here later to lend some hands?"
"Not likely tonight." The officer said as he turned to leave. "I doubt I'll have this situation resolved by then, and it has my focus until it is."
Ratchet looked back up. "Look Pax,"
"Pax?" Elita blurted out.
Ratchet looked at her for a moment before turning back to the officer and continuing. "You know who Skullcruncher works for, right?"
"I've heard the rumors." The officer shrugged. "Frankly, it doesn't make a difference."
"Had a feeling you'd say that." Ratchet replied. "Best case scenario, you will be here later, but you'll be on this slab clinging to life. More likely scenario, you'll be on a slab at the morgue."
"Pax?"
The officer looked at the femme, and then back to Ratchet. "I always shoot for the best, so yeah, guess I'll be seeing you later, sir."
"Ha, you're the sir, Lord Pax." Ratchet chuckled. "I'm just a common-born shlub."
"No, sir, you are a teacher, a mentor, a person making the world better." The officer replied, finishing up his patch-work of the patient's leg. "You deserve titles of respect far more than someone merely possessing a family name."
"Hey!" Elita protested, but shrunk a little as the officer turned and seemed to silently challenge her to argue his point. In the months that she had been volunteering for Ratchet, many of her assumptions regarding social status had shifted, but she still had a problem when the long existing caste system was openly challenged. But on this particular occasion, given that it was Ratchet being used to represent the common class, she decided to back down and say nothing. The officer turned back to Ratchet and nodded before heading toward the door leading to the hallway. Elita watched him, unsure of what to do before realizing what had seemed so pressing prior to his dismissive remark about nobility. "Wait, you're a Pax?"
The police officer entered the hallway, but replied just loud enough to be heard. "Aye, in a way."
Elita looked to Ratchet, who was already back to work on his patient. She then followed after the police officer. "Wait!" Despite her command, he continued walking away. "Wait!" She sped up, reached him and gripped his arm. "Wait…please." He stopped, and turned to look down into her optics. She stared up into his for a few moments, unable to do anything else. The cocking of his left optic brow broke her out of her reverie and prompted her to speak. "Oh, right. Do you know Torenia Pax?"
The large male was a little surprised by the question and turned to face her squarely. "Of course I know Torenia, she's my moth…" the robot paused, looking at Elita questioningly, "why?"
"She's a friend," she replied, still staring deeply into his optics, "and you're Orion, aren't you?"
For the first time Elita witnessed this newcomer being thrown off guard, and she smiled inwardly at the pleasure that gave her. "I…yes, I am Orion Pax. Have you discussed me with Torenia?" Elita looked down, unsuccessfully hiding the smile that came over her face. "Look, Elita of House Solus, I'm glad that the initial acrimony between us seems to have abated, and I genuinely would like to continue this conversation, I really would, but I need to find a kidnapped citizen."
Elita looked up. "How did you know I was Elita Solus?"
Orion shrugged as he turned back toward the waiting room and the exit beyond. "Ratchet called you Elita, you're obviously a noble or royal, and my education included the living members of every high house."
Elita laughed. "I'm obviously a noble? You're the one throwing around words like acrimony, Lord Pax!" The statement forced Orion to turn and give her a very broad, very genuine grin.
"I'm just a polished commoner with a fancy name, my lady." He said before exiting the hallway. "I hope to speak with you again." With that he left. Elita wanted to charge after him, to keep their being together going, but she forced herself to accept that he had a job to do. It was then that she fully recognized the job that he was setting out to do, and felt shame welling up in her at not appreciating the magnitude of what he was doing. A femme had been snatched, was either dead or being held captive, if alive she was terrified, hurt, and without hope. Elita had come to Rodion to make things better, and if she could make things better for this Chromia, then by the Guiding Hand, she would.
Elita started marching toward the door Orion had just gone through and entered the waiting room. She scanned the room and identified the most 'criminal'-looking individual there, walking right up to him. "Tell me where to find Evicerator's!"
Kup
The winds were always fierce in the mountains of the polar city of Taenarus, but winter had firmly taken hold and the blue Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Gate was actually forced to exert himself as he trudged across the clearing in front of the main gate. Ice was building on his frame, posing an added irritation, but he should only be out in the blizzard a few moments more. He only needed to make a retrieval and then he would be back inside, traveling deep enough so that the other temperature extreme would be assaulting his frame in nearly equal measure. He looked ahead toward the lone candidate, the one called Mindwipe, who had impressed him more than any candidate in a very, very long time. There was still something about the candidate that unnerved the Lord Commander, but those unidentifiable feelings of dread were pushed aside. Mindwipe was beyond dedicated to the cause, and his knowledge of the Wardens, their mission and history even before arriving was beyond impressive.
The candidate was kneeling away from Kup, facing the pass that represented the only traversable way in or out by land, as he had been for over a day. It was the final test before being permitted to making his vows and becoming a Warden of the Tartarun Gates. If Mindwipe were still conscious, he'd probably hear Kup crunching through the snow as he made his approach. Of course, there was a good chance he wasn't conscious; there was even a distinct possibility that he may even be dead, the weather had gotten that harsh up here. "Mindwipe, lad, you still with us?"
The candidate's head slowly turned toward Kup; he was hideous looking, but that was a non-issue for Kup. "Oh yes."
"Good," Kup replied with a smile, placing his hand on Mindwipe's shoulder "I was afraid that you might have died."
Mindwipe chuckled as he started getting up. "I rise again, harder and stronger."
Kup smiled, but something about those words tickled a memory, one ancient and likely lost to data creep. It was probably nothing, and easily dismissed. "Good, we will need you hard and strong in service to the Wardens, and the world. Now rise, and take your vows before the ancient Guardian."
"Omega Supreme?" Kup smiled at Mindwipe's genuine awe.
"He waits to determine your worthiness." Kup stated as used his hand on Mindwipe's shoulder to help direct the frozen and wobbly candidate back toward the outer gate. Though not a great distance, the trek back was arduous and slow going, every step a grinding torture for Mindwipe's frozen frame, but eventually they made it into the mountain and the enormous metal door sealed behind them.
They continued walking across the vast expanse, through gates into new sections, each getting progressively hotter, until after many miles they passed through one more and Kup came to a stop before one final giant gate. "This is the final gate that we will pass through. You will enter a candidate, I hope that I will be returning with a fellow Warden; a brother."
"I can think of no greater honor." Mindwipe replied, smiling at the Lord Commander before turning toward the final giant metal gate. As they approached, it rolled enough for them to pass through. The robots entered the dark expanse, the lamps on the walls, which were powered by the geo-thermals of the depths, glowed dimly. The two walked slowly, Mindwipe uncertain of what to do beyond simply following Kup's lead, stopping when the Lord Commander stopped, but utterly confused by what to do then. He stared at Kup, wondering why the old robot was just standing there in the dark hot cave, apparently waiting for something to happen. What he was apparently waiting for finally happened as the wall stepped toward them from the shadows with glowing green optics and a suddenly fiery glow emanating from the mouth of a canon mounted on an impossibly giant robot's left hand. "Ahhh!" The normally calm and emotionless Mindwipe yelled out in terror of the sight, causing Kup to laugh.
"Was that really necessary, my friend?" Kup called up to the giant, but the massive robot simply continued staring heatedly at the candidate cowering away from him. Noticing the intensity not waning, Kup stepped between the two. "Omega Supreme, relax, he's with me! This is Mindwipe, the candidate that I described to you yesterday. He has completed his fast and his submersion in the elements. He has not only passed all tests given him, but he's been in the top five percentile in every category."
Omega Supreme hesitantly turned his glowing green optics away from the cowering Mindwipe and looked to the Lord Commander. "Something…amiss."
Kup turned and studied Mindwipe for several moments before replying. "Well, yeah, he's from Nyon. Try not to hold that against him." Kup laughed as he smiled at Mindwipe and turned back to Omega Supreme.
The one hundred twenty foot tall behemoth stood up fully and stepped back. "If the Lord Commander deems the candidate worthy, Omega Supreme will accept the candidate's vows."
Kup turned to Mindwipe, prompting the still terrified southerner into action. Mindwipe dropped to one knee, bowed his head and called out loudly and clearly. "We stand at the brink, the forces of chaos and death ever vigilant for an opportunity to succeed where they once failed. I take my place in the brotherhood guarding the abyss, pledging every moment of the next vorn to the sacred duty of protecting the living of our world, the spark-based and organic, from the evils of the unlife held within this crypt. I shall have no possessions, seek no fortune or glory, I shall have no existence outside my duties as a Warden of the Tartarun Gates. The evils we watch over will be provided no opportunities to spread their death. This I vow, until the moment the Lord Commander relieves me of my duty."
Mindwipe remained silent upon completing his vow, but after several moments he finally raised his head and peered into the burning green optics of Omega Supreme, who continued to regard him with an unreadable expression. After many tense moments the giant finally nodded. "Arise, Mindwipe, Warden of the Tartarun Gates." The winged robot smiled as he rose.
Xaaron
He should have realized something was amiss the moment he was summoned to a meeting with Sentinel Prime. Had he not offered to represent Orion Pax at that farce of a trial a few months back he doubted Prime would even know who he was. This feeling was definitely reinforced as he waited for the Prime in the empty chamber for over an hour, only to be informed by the Prime's guards that other matters had arisen forcing him to be away. It wasn't until he was in Guardian's Square that he heard what was happening. The trial of the Autobot prisoners had commenced, and he had been drawn away to prevent him from offering to represent them.
Xaaron finally reached the Forum of Justice, where in all likelihood the Magistratus had already sentenced the accused to death. He bolted through the main entrance, noticing the smirks of the Primal guards loitering there while Sentinel was undoubtedly within watching his version of justice come to pass. Xaaron sprinted up stairs, down the hall and slowed enough so that he could enter the chamber where the trial was reportedly taking place without causing a commotion. All the subtlety was unnecessary, as the assembled onlookers, most nobles or senators, were quite vocal with their outrage at the prisoners on trial, who, much to Xaaron's dismay, were shackled and gagged.
"Silence!" The presiding judge, Senator Proteus, called out to the assembled spectators. When the roar diminished to a dull collection of individual muffled conversations Proteus looked to the individual defending the accused. "You may proceed Senator Decimus."
Xaaron shook his head in despondence. Senator Interjectus Decimus was nothing more than a rich jerk unwilling to work hard at anything, but having been born into House Decimus was able to do whatever he wanted. Unfortunately for those interested in true justice on Cybertron, what he wanted was to be a Senator. Not that he was clever enough to do any real damage on his own, but he was more than willing to play whatever role was asked of him in the machinations of those that were clever enough. So here he was, defending those he despised and wanted nothing more than to see removed from this plain of existence in this kangaroo court.
"Thank you your honor." Interjectus Decimus replied. "I feel that the evidence used to support the prosecution's accusation that these citizens attacked the Prime is insufficient."
"We have numerous recordings of the attack, as well as the testimony of dozens of witnesses, including Security Commander Prowl and Sentinel Prime himself; individuals whose integrity or judgment cannot be called into question." Xaaron was surprised to see that the prosecution was being conducted by Consul Traachon himself, the current ranking member of the Senate. They were not taking any chances. "All of which is moot given that the accused have confessed to attacking the Prime and his entourage."
"They have confessed to defending themselves non-lethally against Sentinel Prime's entourage, isn't that right, hmm?" Decimus replied, almost reveling in the set-up he created for Traachon.
"Of course they have." Traachon replied. "The evidence putting them at the scene and attacking the Prime was insurmountable, the best they could hope for was to mitigate the severity of their crimes. You're welcome to believe this desperate ploy of theirs if you wish, but I for one cannot swallow it."
Senator Decimus merely shrugged, smiled and motioned to the restrained accused. "There's only so much I can do with this." Everyone in the chamber chuckled at that sans Xaaron, who turned away in disgust, seeing Sentinel Prime standing in the doorway that he had come through mere moments before staring at him with a satisfied smile on his face. Prime nodded back into the hallway, an invitation that Xaaron knew he had no choice but to accept.
The two left the chamber and allowed the double doors to fully shut before Sentinel gently cupped Xaaron's shoulder and grinned. "I apologize for missing our meeting, things can get quite busy for a Prime, I assure you, but I'm so glad you could make it to these proceedings." The Prime stared intensely into the senator's optics as his hand slid off his shoulder.
Xaaron met Sentinel's gaze unflinchingly but displayed nothing but courtesy from his face. "No need to apologize for your absence, I have no doubt that whatever goals were set for it will be met."
Sentinel's grin faltered ever so slightly and an edge came to his look. "No doubt they will."
"And I must apologize as well, I'd have been here sooner, but I fear I was unaware of these proceedings until just a little while ago." Xaaron continued.
"No matter, there was nothing you could have done here." Prime replied.
Xaaron nodded knowingly. "It was noble of you to recues yourself from these proceedings. I recognized that must be a difficult thing to do given your personal stake in all this."
Prime chuckled lightly. "Well, we must maintain the appearance of impartiality."
"On that note," Xaaron replied, "the fact that the accused are shackled and muffled might be seen as…well, a breach of fairness."
"These are dangerous individuals." Prime replied. "Their leader uses sonic waves as weapons. We can't take any chances, nor are their undoubted outbursts welcome here."
"And the apparent media blackout?" Xaaron asked cordially. "I'm a senator, and even I was unaware of this trial until after it had begun."
"What media blackout? Any lack of attention is because this holds no value to the public." Prime replied dismissively. "We have no interest in keeping any of this under wraps."
Xaaron nodded, finding it harder to keep his skepticism from manifesting itself in his facial features. "That's good. In light of the Orion Pax trial and the Autobots being far more media savvy than previously thought, some might raise the absurd suggestion that you're keeping this quiet to avoid footage supporting their version of the events." Xaaron noted a distinctly dark turn in Sentinel's facial features, but didn't shy away in any way.
After several seconds Sentinel calmed and forced a smile. "To any that fear these judicial proceedings to be unjust, I can point out that they are being defended by a senator."
"Yes, Senator Decimus, how fortunate for the accused." Xaaron replied, hiding the sarcasm in his delivery, though there was really no way for the words to be construed as anything else but sarcasm.
Sentinel Prime laughed as he once again placed his hand on Xaaron's shoulder. "Yes, you see, we are all about seeing that justice is served. Enjoy the proceedings." With that Sentinel Prime removed his hand and started marching down the hall, away from the court forum.
"Aren't you going wait for the verdict?" Xaaron called out.
Without turning back Prime called back his answer. "I'm afraid I have too much to do." But after a couple more steps he did stop and turn his head slightly, eyeing Xaaron with one arrogant optic. "But I already know how it will turn out."
Darkwing
It was too early for Evicerator's to be crowded, but there were at least two dozen patrons warming the stools as Darkwing walked in with Dreadwind. The same old frames burdening the same old seats for the most part. Strangers were a rarity in this place, either due to a lack of awareness or a lack of courage, new faces were almost never seen here. Especially a face of such pristine beauty on a perfectly maintained and polished pink frame. "What the slag is that?" Dreadwind asked as he stared at the femme with the points on her helmet.
"It's a femme, you need to get out more." Darkwing replied.
"I know what it is, but what is she doing HERE?" Dreadwind grumbled in annoyance. "Every other femme we've seen in this shithole has been walking proof that gender dimorphism is a myth, and now we have…this."
"Yeah, she's a hot piece of bumper." Darkwing replied eyeing the femme lustfully as the two sat down at a table. "My spark is throbbing just from looking at her."
"OK, we'll table the why she's in here question for later." Dreadwind said. "I'm curious as to why she's chatting it up with Noose."
"Looks almost like she's interrogating the scrawny bastard." Darkwing observed as the pink femme appeared to be browbeating an acquaintance of theirs at the bar. They watched as she turned away from Noose in frustrated disgust and peered around the pub, her gaze settling on them and a smile came over her face. "Holy shit, I think she's coming over here."
"Why?" Dreadwind muttered almost nervously.
"I've read about this." Darkwing replied quietly as they watched her walking their way. "Rich chick, probably a noble, but her fetish is to spend time with seedy criminal types. She's into a big deviation from her high class, polished life. Bad boy complex or something."
"Too bad." Dreadwind answered. "The boss prefers it when they aren't into it."
"Trust me, she would not be into that." Darkwing replied just as the femme got to them. "Why hello there."
"Hello to you as well." The pink femme replied to Darkwing, then looked to Dreadwind. "Hello to you as well. Do you boys mind if I take a seat with you?"
"Why?" Dreadwind asked bluntly, earning him a kick under the table from Darkwing.
"Please do, my friend here is a bit of a kidder." Darkwing replied as he offered the femme one of the two remaining chairs. "I'm Darkwing, my friend here is named Dreadwind."
"Nice to meet you boys." The femme replied. "I'm Elita."
"Elita, such a pretty name, but a femme with your appearance deserves nothing less." Darkwing replied, earning him a smile from Elita and a groan from Dreadwind.
"I'm glad there's two of you." Elita stated. "You see, I'm in town to meet a friend of mine, and as there are two of you, and there'll be two of us, well…" Elita's optics increased in illumination.
Darkwing leaned forward. "Well we'd love to keep you and your friend company. When's she getting here?"
Elita smiled coyly, but then gave a look of mild annoyance. "She was supposed to meet me earlier, but she never showed up. I'm sure we'll touch base at some point." Elita then perked up. "Maybe you know her. Her name is Chromia," Darkwing couldn't help but shudder a tad from the surprise, and noted that this Elita was not only studying them closely, but had noticed his momentary lack of composure, "she's blue and very pretty." Elita finished the statement without the playfulness that their conversation had prior to his reaction to hearing the name Chromia. The femme continued studying him intently. "So, do you know her?" The question was almost accusatory.
"You're the very first femme that doesn't transform into a titanium wastehouse to ever walk in here." Dreadwind replied indifferently, unaware of the silent intensity going on between the other two. "So unless she's some nasty…" a backhand to the face knocked Dreadwind to the floor.
Darkwing was stunned to see the femme strike his friend, but was even more stunned a moment later to see the tip of a blade an inch from his optic. "Where is she?" Elita snarled.
"You're quick." Darkwing replied once he got his bearings a little. "But you're out of your depth."
"Why, because your big bad crocodilian friend has experience attacking women?" Elita quipped. "Believe me, I've been trained to deal with worse than him."
"Trained? Trained where," Darkwing asked with a smile, "the gardens of some high house? Some enjoyable sparring with your personal trainer before the evening energon consumption with the other nobles of your house?" Darkwing's chuckling was shared by other patron's of the bar who had stopped their drinking to watch what was going on. "This is Rodion, bitch, and your friend is now the property of its overlord. You're not trained to deal with this."
"I'll take my chances." Elita replied.
"You're lack of practical experience is already starting to show." Darkwing smiled broadly. "I'm sure you're strong and all, but we both know that my friend wouldn't still be on the floor from the backhand of a femme." Elita's optics widened as she realized Darkwing was right, but shuddered as a submission charge was slapped against her thigh. Darkwing reached up to grab the knife, but was slashed across his cheek as he struggled with it. "Ahhh, bitch!" He got a hold of her wrist and managed to put a little distance between the blade and his face as Dreadwind got up and started punching her. "Giver another charge!"
Dreadwind pulled back, withdrew another small disk and flipped it onto Elita, who shuddered again and dropped to one knee. Darkwing lunged forward and kicked her in the head, sending her back falling to the ground. "One more?" Dreadwind asked.
"Yeah, do it!" Darkwing snapped as he watched Elita fighting off the effects of the two charges and the kick and struggled to get back to her feet. Another charge slapped her shoulder, causing her to drop again. "One more, just to be safe." Dreadwind did as he was instructed, the fourth submission charge leaving Elita unable to do anything except shudder and twitch on the floor.
"Damn, four charges to finally keep her down." Dreadwind remarked. "Tough bitch."
"Pretty bitch." Darkwing knelt down next to her and stroked her face, smiling into the angry, hate-filled optic. "So, what's more important to me, revenge…" he asked gently as he pulled his hand back, "or reward."
For the first time in ages Dreadwind let out a chuckle. "Giving her to the boss gets you both."
Darkwing nodded. "Yes it does."
Nightbeat
Near as he could tell, this Elpasos was a world inhabited by robotic life, but it seemed unlikely that they were one species. There was a fair bit of diversity with the robotic life on Cybertron, but you could trace the origins of every species back to sparks emerging from the planetary core and sentio metallico found on the surface. The vast majority of robots wandering the streets of Huecotanq, the low mountainous town that Nightbeat currently found himself in, seemed to have little in common with one another apart from being humanoid for the most part and possessing differing degrees of mechanical anatomy. From what he could tell, this, and pretty much every other city on the planet was a melting pot for all manner of robotic life, which was ironic given the dirt and rock terrain gave the distinct impression that this was an organic world. It probably once was, but mechanical extraterrestrial immigrants appeared to have made it their home.
The helpful bartender in that rundown saloon in the planetary capital had directed him here, to an even more rundown saloon in this rundown town. Apparently there was a ship's captain that was familiar with tales of Cybertronian expatriates that frequented this particular pub, and according to the town's port authorities, the captain's ship, The Tidal Wave, was currently berthed there. Nightbeat entered the establishment and scanned the room. There were over a hundred different robots in there, despite the early hour, with wildly varied shapes and forms, but after only a few moments of scanning the room the detective was able to identify one that matched the description provided to him. Twenty-six feet tall, heavily built, mostly blue, bearded, with animalistic claws and spikes emerging from all over his body. Nightbeat approached the robot. "Excuse me, sir, are you Captain Thundertron?"
The robot continued staring into his drink as he replied. "You be very polite, and appear ta' speak the language of this world flawlessly, utilizin' the most popular dialect in this region. And of course, yer words lack any sense of flavor." The bearded robot slammed his drink down and looked up at Nightbeat. "Yer clearly not from around here, are ya' matey?"
Nightbeat nodded. "No, I'm not. I've traveled here looking for information, and you've been mentioned as someone that has some."
"Oh, an information seeker." Thundertron nodded for Nightbeat to take a seat at the table. "I be having plenty of information, though givin' it out has never been somethin' I been known to do."
"I can compensate you." The Cybertronian replied.
"With what, energon?" Thundertron chuckled at Nightbeat's surprise. "I know what ye be, just as you must know that what you need to survive is of very little use to the rest of us. Aye, a great source of energy, but that be about all it be to us."
"I recognize that, and have more to offer than just energon." Nightbeat replied. "Though you appear more Cybertronian than any other robot I've seen on this world, or anywhere outside of Cybertron for that matter."
The large robot's hand shot forward and gripped Nightbeat by the neck. "I'm nothin' like ye, or any other Cybertronian! You bastards commandeered me home, an outpost of nearly a thousand of me brethren, and you killed them all to build your empire!"
"Emp…ack!" Nightbeat struggled to speak through his quickly crushing throat, the fluids needed in his brain being stopped by the captain's iron grip. Thundertron gave one more squeeze before releasing Nightbeat. The detective struggled to regain his composure for a moment before speaking. "Empire? Cybertron has no empire. We've had no extraterrestrial aspirations for over one million years."
Thundertron glared at the Cybertronian for several moments before displaying a frightening grin. "You're a fool. Aye, ye may be telling the truth in that none of your conquests have been launched from Cybertron, but your cursed colonies have spread plenty of carnage in that time. Oh, the Galactic Council doesn't want to draw the connection between these worlds and their home world, but I know." Thundertron leaned in close and snarled at Nightbeat. "Believe me, I know from whence they came."
Nightbeat leaned back, holding up his hands in submission. "Look, Captain, I know nothing about these colonies. I'm in search of one ship, a ship that I have reason to believe was lost in the Benzuli Expanse."
"Har!" Thundertron roared. "The Benzuli Expanse? Ye be a fool if ye think anything can survive…" a look of deep thought came over the pirate's face.
"What?" Nightbeat pressed.
Thundertron looked into Nightbeat's optics for a moment before turning away and shaking his head. "It be nothing. Just old tales of a large ship showing up in scans of the anomaly's center. Scientists from Lithone studied it, and story is that some of their scans managed to penetrate to the core of the expanse where they saw what appeared to be the outline of a ship."
"Intact?" Nightbeat asked incredulously. "That can't be possible."
"It isn't!" Thundertron growled. "I'm not one to call a Lithone a liar, but they definitely be not above mistakes."
"What is a Lithone?" Nightbeat asked.
Thundertron looked around the bar and nodded to a slender robot with a disproportionately large head sitting at a table and imbibing what appeared to be an untainted energized drink. "They not be ones to frequent establishments like these, but establishments like these be all this town has for refreshment. They're weak, and devoid of anything I would call fun, but they be good and honest, and have never done harm to anyone; unlike you and your ilk!"
"Enough!" Nightbeat stood up. "Cybertron has no colonies, we are not an empire, and whoever destroyed your home was not answering to us!"
Thundertron leaned back and chucled. "See fer yerself. Go ye to the planet of Junk. They be rough, and wild, and not quite right, but they be yer kin. Scan em' and see. Same with Eukaris. They be covered in fur and scales and feathers, but underneath it all be metal powered by a spark shat out of Cybertron herself."
"Cybertron is not the only world to have produced spark-based life!" Nightbeat snapped. "The Big Bang produced many Omega caliber hyperdense energy clusters that formed planets around them. Our Vector Sigma is not unique."
"Aye," Thundertron nodded, tapping his own chest as he did so, "I be spark-based, but mine and yours be different. Yours, those of Junkions, those of Eukarians, those of Velocitronians, and even the monsters of Beest, they be the same. Run yer scans and see fer yerself. And there be other outposts where your kind has spread to, beyond just the planets originally seeded with yer accursed protoforms, displacing or eradicating native populations, changing the planet to suit their needs, and setting up processing plants to recreate that energon your kind so desperately needs. Well, not the Eukarians, they be using pink alchemy; altering themselves to convert organic matter into energy usable to their frames, but they still be invaders and butchers, especially those from Beest, the bastards that murdered me kin."
"Look, all of this is news to me, if we have off-world settlements, they haven't been reporting in since long before I came online. And even if you are telling the truth, you're not the one that should be crying injustice." The Cybertronian grumbled. "I've read your resume, Thundertron, and this respect for the sanctity of life you're trying to claim you have is a crock of shit. I've yet to take a life, but you, you've killed thousands!"
Thundertron smiled. "Aye, and if you called me a hypocrite, I would not be sayin' that ye be tellin' a lie. But the caliber of the accuser doesn't change the savagery of the crime."
"No, but it does call into question the guilt of the accused." Nightbeat replied.
"Hmmm, ye' not be a dummy." Thundertron replied almost amicably. "Tell me, whose in that ship ye' seek, and how did they find themselves in the dark expanse?"
Nightbeat studied the pirate for several moments before answering. "An ancient leader of ours. He set out on a mission of exploration and the opening of trade routes. How they got trapped in the Benzuli Expanse, I don't know."
Thundertron looked into Nightbeat's optics for several moments before nodding. "Exploration and the opening of trade routes. Do ye' actually believe that?"
Nightbeat broke away from Thundertron's gaze. "I did. I'm no longer so sure." He then looked back. "But it doesn't matter. Those on board are long dead. I mean only to retrieve their frames for internment and…" Nightbeat realized the folly of mentioning the item of value on the ship to a pirate, but also recognized that were there to be incentive for him, this Thundertron might prove to be useful in the retrieval. Ultimately he decided the risk of an outsider, especially one bearing so much hatred for Cybertron, laying claim to the Matrix was too great. "And to determine what happened."
Thundertron leaned forward and stared intensely at Nightbeat. "Despite yer origins, I bear ye' no ill will. See what yer histories have whitewashed, visit yer colonies, see the damage they've done. But I warn ye', if you do anything to try and salvage that craft, or if by some miracle…or an impressive display of resourcefulness this ancient leader still lives and ye' try to rescue him, I'll kill ye. And there'll be no hesitation when I do it. Yer accursed colonies were established in the millennia that preceded the loss of yer precious Guardian Prime," the pirate smiled at the surprise that came over Nightbeat's face, "yes, I'm well aware of who your ancient leader was, many a dyin' Cybertronian claimed he'd be returning to avenge them. His disappearance punctuated the end of yer' planet's expansion, and I be not one to believe in coincidences. The damage caused by yer world has been contained since his disappearance, and if he truly be in the dark expanse, then there he will stay til the end o' time."
Chromia
The darkness slowly faded away and the images of her surroundings slowly came into sharp clarity. A dark gray face beneath a red helmet with an odd yellow lens over the left part of the forehead was the first thing to come into view. The face smiled as it saw that she was back online. "Ah, welcome back. I hope you're feeling a bit better." Chromia could feel a tremendous reduction in the pain in her chest that had been overwhelming since…since the violation. Since that monster had torn her chest apart and pressed his exposed spark into hers, and then, after he had had enough, painfully bend her chest back into a position over her severely weakened spark. She had lost consciousness shortly after that, remembering the horrific agony, and only now awakening to note that while still painful, her chest was feeling vastly better than it had. "I've repaired the damage that Overlord caused in his lustful haste, and made modifications to allow easier access for him to conduct future acts of…love, shall we say."
"Mod…modifications?" Chromia looked down to see her chest. It looked much as it had, but she noticed almost imperceptible hinges and access dials. "No."
"It was either that or have him tear you apart whenever the mood hits him." The robot stepped back. "And from what I've observed, it hits him quite frequently. Just be thankful you're strong enough to endure it, many aren't." The robot, whose body was predominantly blue, walked over to the door and gave two heavy knocks before turning to face her again, a broad smile on his face. "The changes I made will also make it easier to access your inner workings for repairs, maintenance, and a myriad of other things. You're welcome."
The door opened and the thirty-six foot monster that had torn her open walked into the room, a massive smile spread across his massive face. "Hello Doctor Rossum," the beast looked over at her and stared her up and down, obvious lust on his horrible face, "once again, excellent work."
"Not so hard when the patient is as resilient as she is." Rossum replied. "But take it easy on her, she needs time to recover."
"Fine." The massive fiend walked over and placed his hand firmly on her shoulder, ignoring her wincing attempt to pull away from his touch. "But someday I'll find a femme with endurance and libido to match my own."
"Well, not likely anytime soon I'm afraid." Rossum replied as they walked out of the room they were in and into the main expanse of the warehouse. "You're made up of an exceptional amount of metallico, significantly enhanced surgically, and powered by what I'm all but certain is a spark of exceptional power."
Overlord chuckled as he directed Chromia toward a row of cages, some filled with other prisoners. Beyond them were over a dozen large crates, two of which were open revealing large plasma rifles, ion canons and even a fusion canon within them. "Perhaps someday I'll let you take a peek at it."
"That would be nice, but I'm no longer quite as eager to see as I was the last time we met." Rossum replied. "I've had the good fortune of seeing another up close."
"Another?" Overlord stopped, genuinely caught off guard by the doctor's statement. "There is no other like mine!"
Rossum turned and smiled at the giant, displaying no sign of fear or intimidation. "Well, as I've never seen or studied yours, I cannot say for sure. But the one in my lab was tremendously powerful. It would have easily powered a frame many times the size of the one it was in with complete comfort and full dexterity. The frame it was in is truly large, not nearly as large as yours, but very large, and the power it exuded was, well, let's just say he was the finest physical specimen I've ever worked on by a very wide margin."
"That's only because you've never worked on me." Overlord snapped, clearly annoyed.
"True." Rossum answered. "I'd be happy to change that if you'd like. Whoever did your armor and press enhancements did a phenomenal job, but I know that I can improve upon them. I may even be able to capitalize on and implement the remote influence you claimed to have had over your detached body parts during your previous procedure."
"What do you mean by that?" Overlord asked, intrigued.
"I theorize that certain very rare individuals might be able to have their shell separated into different pieces and still exert control over all parts." Rossum replied. "But I'm afraid that it's just theory at this point, and that my time here is coming to an end. I need to return to Castle Macht."
Overlord nodded and walked over to Rossum, opening up a screen on his wrist for the doctor to extract payment for his services from. Rossum withdrew a handheld device and held it over the wrist-screen. "Work for me full time Rossum, I pay you more than the Machts do."
Rossum chuckled as he finished his transaction and put the device away. "Even when that was true, which is hasn't been since the Machts began their patronage of gladiators and paying me for their upgrades, there was still the social standing of being the polyhistor to a ruling house."
"Polyhistor?" Overlord chuckled. "You're the most brilliant physician on the planet, but you're hardly an expert on anything outside of our anatomy."
Rossum shrugged. "I can't argue with that, but the Machts really don't care about my ability to do anything other than maintain them and enhance their select subjects."
"Like this other powerful spark bearing individual?" Overlord asked.
"Why Overlord, you sound jealous." Rossum chuckled. "Perhaps you should be. I was very impressed with this gladiator."
"He's a slave paid to die." Overlord replied, his casual demeanor returning despite the subject matter being what had irritated him only a short while before. "Good-bye doctor, another job well done."
"And good-bye to you as well." Rossum replied as he made his way to the door. Just as he reached the door it burst open, and two winged robots stumbled in carrying a barely stirring pink femme. Rossum laughed as they dragged her past him. "Ha! Very subtle. I'd stay as I'm guessing you'll be needing my services in the not so distant future, but unfortunately I have some things to take care of, so just message me when you're done with her, do what you need to do to keep her alive, and I'll get here when I can." With that Rossum exited the building.
"Hey boss, she was at Evicerator's asking about her blue friend there." The darkly colored one with the visor offered.
"Bitch hit me after finding Darkwing's Sheol's Bounty-face less than convincing." The predominantly white one said.
"Took four charges to put her down, and we had to slap her with another on the way here." Darkwing added.
Overlord looked down at Chromia and smiled. "So what's your friend's name?"
Chromia looked up into his optics in confused terror, then down at the barely conscious pink femme. "I…I don't know her. I have no idea who she is?"
"Then why would she be asking about you?" Overlord asked skeptically.
"I don't know." Chromia replied. "I swear I've never seen her before."
"I think you're lying." Overlord said, turning to look the pink femme over. "She's actually very attractive too. I think I'll take her now, and you're going to watch me do it."
"No, no please." Chromia pleaded, looking from her massive captor, to her fellow captive and repeatedly back and forth. "Don't hurt her, she's done nothing to you."
"She struck my employee Dreadwind." Overlord countered.
"She cut my face too." Darkwing added.
"See," Overlord continued without taking his optics off of Chromia, "she has this coming."
"Don't make me watch you do this to her." Chromia begged. "Please, don't do this." Overlord reached down and grabbed her by her upper arm, dragging her across the floor to the stirring pink stranger and grabbing her by the arm as well. He then dragged them both back across the warehouse toward the room where he had violated Chromia before. "Nooo!"
"Darkwing, Dreadwind, as you can see, we've received a new cache of firearms," Overlord called out as he reached the room, "see that they're stored properly and are ready to ship out to our dealers on time."
"Of course sir, have fun." Darkwing replied.
Overlord flung the pink femme onto the slab in the center of the room, then dragged Chromia over to the wall where several pairs of shackles were mounted. Chromia grunted in pain as Overlord hoisted her up by her arms and effortlessly held her in place as he positioned the clamps on her wrists, then released her to let her dangle against the wall. "I was gentle with you. You're about to see how brutal this act can truly be." Overlord smiled cruelly before turning and marching over to the pink robot struggling to lift herself off the slab. "Coming around, are we? Good." With barely a noticeable effort, the monstrous criminal slapped the prisoner back down on to the slab. "I want you to be absolutely aware of what I am doing to you. I would prefer that you survive this, but in all likelihood, you won't. I'm not going to be gentle."
"No, leave her alone!" Chromia demanded, losing her fear of the behemoth.
"Daaa…don't talk." The pink femme finally spoke, looking bravely toward Chromia. "Don't make it worse for yourself."
"Who are you?" Chromia asked, but the femme was unable to answer as Overlord grabbed her shoulders and slammed her down hard against the top of the slab. "Stop!"
Overlord's head whipped back and he snarled at Chromia. "Shut up and watch, or I'll take you again once I'm done with her!" His warning delivered, he turned back to the pink femme.
"No." Overlord's optics widened in anger for just a moment as he whipped back around to face Chromia, but realized instantly that the cry had not come from her; it had not even originated in that room. "No, he'll find us, he'll catch us." The voice, while raised, was barely audible in the room.
Chromia watched the massive criminal march to the door and throw it open, then saw a smile spread over the monster's face. "Officer Pax I presume?"
"You are the one they call the Overlord?" A deep voice replied.
"It is the only name I've gone by in a very long time." Overlord answered cordially.
"Then Overlord, you are under arrest." The voice responded authoritatively, eliciting a laugh from Overlord.
"I received a call letting me know that you'd be poking around sooner or later, Officer Pax." Overlord replied in a friendly manner. "It wasn't so much a warning as a notification that you were fair game. This made me curious."
"We can discuss your curiosity at the precinct house." The voice interrupted. "For now you are to tell me where you have the two femmes and submit to apprehension."
Overlord began laughing lightly again. "Pinky is on the slab." The massive robot reached over, grabbed the chains Chromia was hanging from, and yanked them over, snapping the links connecting her to the wall and holding her next to him for the officer to see. "Pretty little Chromia is right here as you can see."
Chromia looked up into the warehouse to see a large red, blue and silver robot standing next to several of the other captives, all now freed from their cages with the exception of one, despite the door to his cage being open. The robot content to remain captive looked to Overlord with terrified optics and pled. "My lord, please, I did not request to be freed. I only wish to serve." The other former captives were quickly making their way past the unconscious Darkwing and Dreadwind toward the door and through it to freedom.
"Your obedience has been noted." Overlord replied dismissively. "I'll advertise it to all prospective buyers, it should up your price a bit I suppose."
"Obedience born out of terror." The officer snarled.
"Does it really matter?" Overlord snapped back. "The sale will have long been final before any sort of courage and disobedience creeps into his pathetic frame."
"I think you're delusional about the bargaining position you'll have while in a penal colony." Pax replied.
"Oooo…Orion," The pink femme called out weakly as she dropped from the table and landed on her wobbly feet, "geh…get out of here."
"So you're with the cop." Overlord turned just enough to look at her with one optic. "I'm going to tear you wide, bitch."
"You're coming with me!" Orion growled and started marching in their direction.
Overlord turned back to look at him and sighed in annoyance as he raised his wrist to his mouth. "Skullcruncher, bring everyone in here. We have a pest." Seconds later six robots came charging in from the north section of the warehouse. "Where's everyone else?"
"Slow day boss, sent some guys home." Skullcruncher replied as he jogged to the area between his boss and the wary intruder with his five cohorts. "Who's this guy?"
"Cop. We've gotten the OK to kill him, hell, it was a request to kill him, but I want him alive." Overlord answered. "Take him down however you wish, but that little blue ember in his chest had better still be glowing when you're done with him."
"Heh." The pink captive weakly chuckled. When Overlord turned to face her she smiled at him as she took on a fighting stance. "I am starting to get my bearings, and now I'm going to kick the shit out of you."
Overlord chuckled as he tossed Chromia toward the corner dismissively. "I want to hate you pinky, but I've never been this turned on before." A lightning quick backhand sent her crashing to the floor. The sounds of weapons fire erupted from the main warehouse area as Chromia squirmed around and leaned against the corner walls, watching in terror as Overlord hovered over the other female. "I absorb the energy and essences of a femme's spark, it goes both ways to a degree, but my sheer power is such that while temporarily disoriented, I come away more powerful from the mingling. Like with the disorientation, the high is very temporary, and provided they survive whatever damage is done to my lady's spark heals fully, but it frequently takes a long time to do so. But despite the brutality of it all, I've never fully absorbed or drained a spark, and I've never disrespected my lady enough to do it in front of an audience." Overlord reached down and grabbed her by the arm. "Today, I'm doing both! I'm going to suck every trace of your life force into mine, and this blue bitch, my boys and your subdued boyfriend are all going to watch me do it!"
"Shit, keep him away from the weapons' crates!" The voice of Skullcruncher yelled out over the gunfire from the next room.
"That cargo is worth more than any of you!" Overlord roared as he once more turned away from his pink victim, his every movement a reflection of his annoyance at his goons being able to handle the police officer as quickly and efficiently as he felt appropriate. That annoyance immediately turned to rage as he fully took in what was going on through the open door. "Damn it, keep him away…" an explosion erupted, eliciting a snarl from the massive crime lord. "That crate was worth more than one hundred thousand shanix! The most value I'd assign to any one of you is thrity…forty thousand tops!"
"Primus, he's still moving!" An unknown voice yelled out.
"You moron's didn't even slow him down!" Overlord bellowed. "Do NOT blow up another crate!" The giant folded his arms and watched the goings on with intense interest, and a slowly growing sense of amusement. "Come on Gutcruncher, you can…ouch. Poor, poor Gutcruncher." The large robot chuckled ominously. "Who is this guy?" Overlord mused quietly as he watched the fight with unrestrained enjoyment. A pink flurry of attacks landed against his upper back and the back of his head, attacks potent enough to send him stumbling forward a couple of steps. Chromia looked up at the face of Overlord as he turned, still grinning broadly, and looked down upon his assailant. "Fantastic! I really like your spirit, Pinky!" Chromia could take no more, and charged forward as well, hands still chained together, but with enough slack that she could put up a good fight and help out this pink femme and the red and blue cop. She lunged into Overlord's midsection with everything she had. Unfortunately it was like slamming into a ten foot thick slab of cybertronium, and she bounced back against the immovable object. "Et tu, Chromia?" Overlord snarled, and swatted her to the ground.
"Overlord!" The deep voice of the police officer called out. "Is this REALLY all you have for me?" Chromia, being carefully lifted up by the pink femme raised her optics and looked beyond Overlord out into the warehouse at a heavily scorched but otherwise healthy-looking Orion Pax standing amidst a chaotic mess of debris and unconscious henchmen. "Because if it is, your reputation is severely overblown."
"Heh heh heh." Overlord chuckled ominously. "I'm a bit understaffed today, but even with that I expect better of my crew. Rest assured, punishments are in order."
"Release the femmes and I'll consider leaving you to it." Orion snapped back. "Otherwise I'll be dragging your ass back to the precinct house. And once the evidence here is collected, your conviction and a painfully long sentence will be assured."
A hard look came over Overlords face, made all the more terrifying by the smile that was still held in place. "You'll be dragging my ass?" The massive crime lord turned his head so that one optic locked onto the pink femme's face. "Wait here, this will only take a minute." With that he started marching out toward the police officer.
"Chromia," the pink femme whispered, "my name is Elita, I'm here to get you out of here. Once Orion has Overlord distracted we're going to make a break for it. Do you understand?"
"We'll never make it." Chromia whispered back. "Overlord will destroy him."
"In all likelihood, yes." Elita replied. "But Orion is more powerful than he seems, trust me on this. He might catch Overlord off guard, and he will definitely demand the bastard's focus for more than a few moments. Enough time to get you…" At that moment the door was thrown open and five robots came charging in.
"Ah, just in time!" Overlord called out. "Guard the bitches while I brutalize this piece of shit. Feel free to shoot them in any non-vital body part, especially the pink one. In fact, don't engage them up close, they'd probably take you pussies hand to hand."
"You need to focus on me, Overlord." Pax snapped at the giant criminal.
"Oh believe me, Officer Pax, you have my undivided attention." Overlord growled as he cut the distance between them. "Your boss wants you dead, I want to know why that is, so while you'll wish it wasn't the case, I will be refraining from killing you right away." With that Overlord lunged at the intruder, but Orion twisted away to the left. Overlord swung wildly at the retreating police officer, but Orion ducked and stepped away to put a bit more distance between then. "Ohhh, you're a quick one."
"Yeah, I hear that a lot." Orion replied, and this time he lunged in, delivering a left cross that landed squarely against Overlord's jaw that forced the giant to stumble back a couple steps.
More startled than anything else, Overlord brought his hand to his jaw and a smile began spreading across his face as he stared back at Orion. "Where have you been all my life?" With that he charged after the much smaller robot, throwing punch after punch, most evaded by the exceptionally fast Pax, some blocked or absorbed by his arms, but a few landing. Despite the amazing power of the shots, Orion remained upright and alert, and after several moments, he stopped backpedalling, planted his feet and landed several shots of his own. Overlord landed an overhand right that sent Pax down to his knees, but the young officer used his left knee as a pivot point to spin and land a right sidekick to Overlord's left knee, causing it to buckle and force the giant stumbling back.
"Damn boy, you come in here with nothing but your birthday suit and a meaningless badge and give me the best go I've ever had!" Overlord called out almost joyfully as they both straightened up. "Slag Momus! Slag torturing you! How would you like a job? Pay's great, just ask anyone, and I'll give you the best presses and armor money can buy. Hell, you just missed my doctor, best anatomical enhancer on the slaggin' planet! Just be a cop, look the other way with my crew, and lock horns with me from time to time for shits and giggles – don't worry, I'll fix you up better than new after each go. Whaddya say?"
Orion Pax looked up at the criminal. "That's a generous offer, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline."
"Bastard!" Overlord roared as he swiped his massive arm out and swatted Orion across the room, his frame skipping across the floor and landing next to one of the crates. "Do you have any idea of the offer I just made you? You'd get rich just to turn your head and offer me a challenge from time to time!"
"A challenge?" Orion replied as he got to his feet. "You want to push your limits, find the best and beat them; you want to be the baddest on the planet. One giant bragging right." The young officer swung out and smashed the closest crate open, allowing all the weapons inside of it to spill out onto the floor. He looked them over, finally reaching down, bypassing a fusion canon, and picking up an ion canon. He turned back to Overlord and directed the rifle at him. "I could not care less about bragging rights. I came here to rescue your prisoners and take you into custody." Orion gave the crime lord a long look. "I guess I'll have to arrest you another time." With that Orion pumped a round into each of Overlord's shoulders and then one into each of his knees.
The giant endured the shots without so much as a grunt, but they cut easily through his armor and caused significant damage to his joints, causing each movement to be extremely painful and slow. The wounds made it impossible for him to stop Orion from turning the weapon on his henchmen and picking them off with debilitating but non-lethal shots, and then sprinting forward toward the room with the two femmes in it.
Chromia watched as Orion had the weapon pointed in their general direction and then countless rounds fired at them. At least it seemed as though their savior was firing at them, but the rounds zipped past them and through the wall behind them, tearing it to shreds. Chromia turned to look at the perforated wall, and was caught off guard as she was lifted suddenly and forcefully from the ground and hoisted over Orion Pax's shoulder, Elita planted on the other shoulder. A second later they were all blasted through the nearly destroyed wall, Chromia grunting through the pain of the impact and turning just in time to see the surface of the river rushing up at them. A moment later they were submerged, and she saw the officer's powerful blue legs pumping hard to drive them down and then out toward the center of the river, farther away from the shore.
They cut through the depths with impressive speed, eventually breaching the surface and climbing on shore several miles upstream. "Are you two alright?" Orion asked as he gently set the two of them on the ground.
Elita leaned over and looked deeply into Chromia's optics. "Are you OK?"
Chromia started to say yes, but her voice got caught in her throat. Wildly varying emotions came crashing in all at once. All the hopefulness, hopelessness, fear, anger, feelings of self-loathing for getting taken, feelings of hatred for Overlord and those that took her, the utter desperation; all of it came crashing in on her, coupled with the memories of what had been done to her. "No." She squeaked out and began weeping, wrapping her arms around Elita, and feeling the arms of the pink femme embracing her as well. She sobbed into the stranger's shoulder, her body heaving as it all came out.
"Can I…" she heard Orion say in confusion, "is there anything…"
"No." Elita replied. "Thank you, but no." Elita pulled Chromia's head back and looked into her optics. "I am Elita of House Solus, the ruling house of Axiom. You are welcome to return to my home, you will be safe there, I promise." All Chromia could do was nod and bury her face back into Elita's shoulder.
"I…I apologize if sounds…insensitive, but we should get you to your transport as quickly as possible." She heard Orion once again hesitantly stammer. He had no idea of how to handle this situation. While he hadn't been told of what had happened to her, he knew. How could he not know? But despite that, he didn't know how to react. Chromia didn't know how to react. Ultimately, there was no good way to react to this situation, but Orion was right, they needed to keep moving. "I can carry her, or you, or both of you. I…I can do whatever, but we need to go."
Chromia looked up at Orion, as did Elita. The robot was looking down on them with an apologetic gaze, almost expecting to be reprimanded, but Elita's voice was soft and consoling. "Yes, you're right, we need to get moving." She stood up, helping Chromia to her feet in the process. "I see the wheels on your frame, is your alternate mode functional?"
"Good idea, but I transmitted a message to Ratchet while we were swimming." Orion mentioned. "He'll be picking us up on the roadside momentarily."
Elita gave Orion a look of genuine gratitude. "That was good thinking, thank you." The two shared a smile. "How were you able to pry him away from his clinic?"
Orion chuckled as he waved the two femmes to walk ahead of him and followed behind them. "His grumpiness is primarily show. If there's a way for him to help, he'll help." The red and blue officer then shrugged. "And I may have offered to give him a free set of hands for six hours after my shift ends at the precinct."
"Torenia would be proud." Elita replied. "Well, prouder. She already thinks quite highly of you."
"I hope so." Orion replied as they reached the road and waited for Ratchet's transport to arrive. "I owe her everything."
Elita nodded. "I thought she was making a mistake when she found you." She looked over and noted the look of shock in Orion's optics. "Today at Ratchet's clinic wasn't the first time we met." She turned and faced him directly. "I was on the boat with Torenia when it sank. I made it to Isla Avalonius, I set out to find her, and I saw…I saw your birth. Your spark pulling material that had no right to be in a frame and force life into it. I was with her, I watched the love she already possessed for you grow into a force that made her defy the law and traditions to make sure you would be safe. I thought it was a mistake; it clearly wasn't. I'm proud of my friend for making such a courageous choice, and she should be proud of what her son has become." Chromia was utterly confused by the details of the conversation, but she could see the police officer melting under the gaze of her new pink friend.
A moment later a transport pulled to a stop in front of them. "Well," an old white and red robot barked at them, "you guys coming or what?"
