Mindwipe
"Answer, damn you!" The whispered snarl was heard by no one in the almost empty communications room, which was fortunate, as it would raise even more concern the Wardens had developed for Mindwipe since shortly after his arrival at the Gates. He had been at the Gates for almost six years, and in that time his behavior had been slowly devolving to the point where all his fellow Wardens avoided him unless it was absolutely necessary. The Lord Commander had sat him down a handful of times over the years to try and figure out what was troubling the warden, but Mindwipe had always managed to dodge the issue and assure the Lord Commander that all was well; and who was Kup to disagree, despite Mindwipe's erratic behavior, he had always completed his tasks to everyone's satisfaction.
"You have reached the voicemail of Reptilion,"
"No!" Mindwipe growled loudly, causing two of the seven other heads in the room to turn and look at him. He was oblivious to their notice.
"I am unavailable to speak with you, please leave a message." The voice of the reclusive scientist finished and was followed by a beep a moment later.
Mindwipe pulled the speaker close to his face as he relayed his message. "Reptilion, it's me, I need your help. I need you to hurry! They're in my head, and no longer just when I'm sleeping. I can see them. The sparkeaters, and their servants. Their leader calls out to me when I'm awake now. I can't shut him out, and he's done waiting." The tortured winged robot slapped a palm to his head and shook it violently. "It's too much! He knows my secrets, he knows my weaknesses. I want to serve him, I must serve him, but I need you to do so! Hurry! I implore you to…"
"Beep."
"Damnit!" Mindwipe closed the connection but started redialing, only to see a blue finger thrust into his line of view and push the button to turn the communicator off. "What?" The Warden turned to the soon to be dead man who dared, and looked up into the angry optics of the Lord Commander.
"Enough!" Kup grabbed him by the arm and hoisted him up to his feet. "I don't know who you're trying to communicate with or what you were trying to say to them, and frankly, I don't care. What I do care about is the fact that you're definitely starting to fray just a few years into your service with us. You have more than seventy-seven years left of your commitment, so whatever is unnerving you, you need to fix it now!" Kup glared into Mindwipe's optics and let that sink in before continuing in a less threatening voice. "If you need help with anything, come to me, or any of the other officers, that's part of our job, and chances are we've seen whatever's troubling you before. But with or without our help, you'd better get your shit together, Mindwipe, or you'll be serving the remainder of your term in the stockade. Do you understand?"
Mindwipe managed to force out a nod and stammered a reply. "Ye…yes, of course Lord Commander. My apologies, I can handle this on my own."
Kup peered intently at the troubled Warden, both of them knowing that despite their heads being down or turned away, the other seven Wardens in the dimly-lit cavern that made up the communications room were focused on them. "See that you do. You have the makings of an excellent Warden, Mindwipe, but you need to get this under control."
"Aye, Lord Commander." Mindwipe replied convincingly, waiting for Kup to break his gaze and turn before sending a glare to the other Wardens in the room, in particular the recent recruit Borebit, a former member of Sentinel Prime's personal guard who had fallen out of favor with the Prime and had come to the Tartarun Gates to find honorable service away from Cybertropolis. He was a low noble and considered himself a paragon of honor, therefore above the common-born filth that made up virtually all of the Wardens, including Lord Commander Kup. Not that he showed any arrogance toward the Lord Commander, but he looked down on the rest of them, especially southerners with bestial shell modes like Mindwipe. He noted the condescending grin coming from Borebit accompanied by a disapproving headshake.
'Free us and we will put him and the others at your mercy.' The voice that he had come to be all too familiar with echoed through his head.
Mindwipe turned away hastily and marched toward the door that Kup had just exited through. "Not now." He whispered. "I swear to you, my lord, that I am doing all I can to expedite your freedom."
'Then you are not fit to be our advocate.'
"I am fit, and I am your advocate." Mindwipe grumbled quietly to himself, lowering his head as he passed two Wardens in the hall walking past him in the other direction. "I just need more time."
'All I have done is grant you more time, and it has amounted to nothing.'
"I cannot overpower the Wardens and the Guardian myself, my lord." Mindwipe replied quietly, carefully looking in all directions to make sure his comments or the comments occurring within his head were not being overheard. "But plans are in place, your freedom is all but certain, but we must wait for these plans to reach fruition. I swear to you, all that can be done, is being done."
'My armies are assembled, we've conscripted all the monsters of this planet's depths, we are waiting to wash over the surface, purging it of the organic, feasting on the sparks of the mechanical, and rewarding those that serve us with the glory of the power that comes with the unlife. You could be foremost of those servants, but only if you prove to be useful.'
Mindwipe turned into his personal chamber, a tiny cut into the rock wall with a slab, a footlocker and nothing else, and sealed the door behind him. "I understand my lord, your freedom is foremost on my mind at all times."
Swoop
The sun cut into his optics painfully for a moment before they acclimated themselves to the daylight outside of the cave he and his comrades had been wandering through for the last two days. Despite heading what they assumed to be west during that time, Swoop was still unsure of whether they were still within the borders of Polyhex or if they'd finally reached Nyon; not that it mattered. Whether in the jurisdiction of Machts or Onyxs, they would likely be hunted down and executed on sight. No, they needed to head north, through the Tagan Heights or Tyrest, depending on how far west they had actually traveled. Until now they had been at the mercy of the network of caverns within the wasteland mountain range, but Grimlock had muttered that enough time and distance had passed so that they could probably travel along the surface.
Swoop hadn't been so sure and insisted on checking the area around them first. He was the smallest and the fastest. Even still likely unable to fly with his damaged wing, he was still far quicker than his comrades, and was the only choice for any sort of reconnaissance mission. He walked out of the cave and onto the rock and metal landscape, looking over the horizon in all direction, the valley to the south and west, the stretch of mountains to the east and northwest, and then finally he turned around north toward the direction he knew they needed to go, up along the rocks toward the peak blocking their path. He noticed the white and black robot sitting on the boulder smiling at him right away, but the robot was so casual and relaxed that it took Swoop a moment to realize how out of place that robot seemed, and more importantly, that they were compromised. Swoop immediately raised the rifle that he had been holding loosely in his left hand. "Freeze!" He commanded, but keeping his voice as quiet as he could while still being heard by this robot sitting forty feet higher up on the cliff.
"Put that thing away." The robot replied as he hopped off the boulder and started making his way slowly down the rocky terrain.
Swoop was genuinely perplexed by this guy's nonchalant attitude and obliviousness to the danger he was in. "Excuse me? Look asshole, even if you're on your best behavior I'm likely going to have to kill you just to keep you quiet. But if you pose a threat, like you're doing now, I'll kill you without any thought to it and feel nothing along the lines of remorse later. So I suggest you actually freeze when I tell you to freeze."
The robot stopped, but displayed a look as if to say that any idea that he may be in jeopardy was silly. "You're not going to fire on me. I came here looking for you, not to kill you or detain you or divulge your position to your pursuers; no, I came so that we could help each other."
Swoop was too confused to pretend to be amused. "OK, who are you, why should I trust you, and what is this mutual help you think would be in our best interests?"
"My name is Prowl, and until recently I was Sentinel Prime's head of planetary security and his chief advisor." The robot replied.
"That's why you look familiar." Swoop replied, recognizing him and realizing that despite the absurdity of the situation, this stranger was telling the truth. "You expect me to believe that you quit your job?"
"No, in truth I was fired." Prowl answered.
"You fail to kill your quota of Autobots?" Swoop replied, still keeping the rifle pointed at Prowl.
"Oh, much worse than that." The white and black Iaconian responded. "I insisted that they weren't responsible for the hundreds of terrorist attacks over the last several years. And I may have suggested that Prime was a bit too obsessed with Orion Pax."
Swoop smiled. "Oh yeah, forgot about that kid. Fast," Swoop nodded, remembering watching the newscast from five years back, "and pretty strong to toss aside Prime like that."
Prowl nodded. "Yeah, good athlete. But he embarrassed Prime publicly, very publicly, and Prime has wanted him dead ever since."
Swoop fixed his gaze on Prowl. "You must realize that I don't believe any of this, right?"
Prowl smiled. "None of it?"
"Oh, I'm sure Prime want's Pax dead, but otherwise your story is full of shit."
Prowl sat back down on a rock and looked up at Swoop. "Look, the Autobots didn't do it, but those attacks aren't imaginary. Thousands have been killed, and whether it's my job or not, I'm going to find whoever is responsible and put an end to the carnage. The evidence I've collected suggests it may be a party or parties related to the gladiatorial circuit. So I set out on my own, knew about the superbout between Grimlock and Megatron and figured that would be a good starting point, and heard about what went down with your group as well as your subsequent escape. So, armed with satellite maps of this area that included the underground cave network, I tracked your team's most likely route, parked my shuttle on a ridge above us about a mile away, and have been waiting here for you for the last two hours." Noting the surprise in Swoop's optics, Prowl nodded. "Yes, I have a transport."
"OK, you're very clever, but everyone on the planet already knows that about you." Swoop replied, shifting his rifle but keeping it on Prowl. "What you need to convince me of is that I can trust you with the lives of my friends and I, and your little story hasn't done that."
Prowl pursed his lips, looked down at the ground and nodded. "Look Swoop, I don't need to convince you of anything. I'm here and I'm unarmed, that should be sufficient to at least let you check into my story further. But I suggest that you don't wait that long. Apparently Shockwave was knocked offline in your little skirmish with him and has been undergoing repairs, but it won't take him long to figure out what I figured out and track you guys down. Word on the street is that he's a pretty clever bastard too."
Swoop studied the smaller robot for nearly a minute silently before responding. "You may have a point about Shockwave, but that reminds me of another reason not to trust you. Word is that the powers that be, powers as in you and Prime, have turned a blind optic to the fighting circuit. Taking those rumors, and the presence of royals like Shockwave, Soundwave and others whose houses have no ownership in the circuit, makes me think that perhaps these powers that be are getting a cut of the action, and therefore you and Prime have a vested interest in shutting us the hell up."
Prowl nodded. "You're smarted than I would have thought you were based on the rumors of your squad. But while my estimation of him has taken a slide, Sentinel Prime has never been one to take a bribe. He has no love for the gladiatorial circuit, the blind optic that you've heard about is true, but it's due more to appeasing the masses in the southern emirates and that, in his mind, going after this circuit belongs on the back burner far behind the Autobots."
"And I'm just supposed to take your word for this?" Swoop was still beyond skeptical, but he was starting to be swayed.
"Do whatever you want." Prowl muttered as he stood up and started to turn to walk up the mountain. "You guys providing me useful information is a longshot at best, and frankly, I've already jumped through more hoops than I normally would for a longshot. Good luck getting out of this. My contacts are telling me that House Onyx is pissed, and everyone involved in the fight circuit is eager to silence you boys." Prowl looked up into the sky in the distance, spotting a winged animal circling high above, but then cutting through the strong wind currents of that altitude and heading away with extreme speed. "That's odd." He muttered to himself.
"Stay here!" Swoop yelled out as he leapt off a rock, painfully transformed and took to the sky, hoping desperately that his repair systems had made enough progress with his wing that this was possible. "I'm sure it's a mistake, but I believe you. I'll be back!" The large raptorsaur took off after the much smaller mechanical buzzard, closing the gap, but it seemed as though it would not be quickly enough. This thing was clearly not a typical aviaton, and if Swoop's fear was correct, a signal had already been sent to their pursuers. But there was a chance this thing was out of range, or at the very least, if he caught it, he could keep it from following them if they were to load and lift off in Prowl's craft.
The buzzard veered up and disappeared into a cloud up ahead, only to blast out the bottom of it speeding back beneath Swoop in the direction they had come from. Swoop banked to follow, but the moment his course matched the birds, the prey shot back toward his original destination and sped ahead. He then dove down toward the mountains below, twisting around a peak and cutting down into a ravine, the metal bird hugged the cliff face as he zoomed through the canyon that the ravine was transitioning into. Swoop was almost upon it, and bore down on it like an organic raptor pursuing a smaller bird it was hunting. He stretched out his talons, only for the buzzard to bank and dip further toward the small river running through the metal and rock ground. Swoop kept after it, wishing he had brought his rifle…and that he could have made use of the firearm in his bestial mode.
They once again rose above the mountains, and up ahead in the distance Swoop saw a group of vehicles speeding along the outside of the mountain range heading toward their general direction, undoubtedly soldiers for this yellow and black buzzard's master, the seemingly unassuming Soundwave of House Torrent. He had only a few more seconds to end his hunt of this little bird before he was in weapons range of the approaching group. He was almost on it, he stretched his neck and nipped at the metal feathers protruding from the rear of the bird. The creature pulled free. The raptorsaur flapped heavily once more and lunged into the bird and clasped it with his talons, both winged forms toppling through the air and plummeted down to the jagged slope of the southward facing cliff. Swoop bit tightly around the smaller creature's neck, flapping his long wings furiously to regain control. As the metal and rock rushed up he realized that it was likely a futile effort, but he continued struggling even as the serrated ground came rushing up at them.
Ogrus Onyx
Stupid idiot. He should have killed that ungrateful, belligerent, impudent, thuggish piece of shit years ago. Yes, he made Ogrus money, and yes, the grunt gave him bragging rights over the other southern royals, but now that bastard was threatening to ruin it all. Bad enough he lost the bout to Macht's jumped-up miner, but his little jailbreak was unacceptable. And the claims from his team that this jumped-up miner was leading an underground coup to overthrow…everything? Guiding Hand, he should have slaughtered them all years ago! He barely kept his thoughts from being grumbled out loud as he made his way through the system of catacombs that had been carved below the Onyx grounds millions of years ago. The chamber he sought was up ahead, two of his most trusted guards nodded as he approached through the dark corridor, their commanding officer, Full Tilt, was likely inside with the asset.
Ogrus stopped in front of the thick metal doors and allowed his frame to be scanned. Upon completion the doors opened and he entered the dimly lit chamber, the walls lined with state of the art computer arrays and the room cluttered with various bits of medical equipment. In the center was a large slab engulfed in a field of vaporous energon, resting on that slab was a frame that was maintained, but clearly unwell. Sitting just outside the field of energon gas was a large purple warrior seated in a chair, not yet realizing that Emir Onyx had entered the room. He leaned in close to frail patient on the slab and began singing in a soothing, velvety soft voice that bellied his imposing frame.
"The Knights saved us, the Great lord said,
of that, we all do know.
But you of their pool be mechs, not gods,
no right to keep lowborn low.
Those of the land, and those of a house,
be born of equal worth.
A mech's value set by words and deeds,
not by the spot of its birth.
We live by caste, with lords and serfs,
chose not of reason, but rote.
His voice was loud, his words were heard,
all people of the land took note.
The mighty must be dedicated to defend and free,
he loudly sent his call.
But the dragon lord of the Knightly Black house,
he was the mightiest of them all.
Hearing enough of such blasphemy,
the winged lord took flight.
With legions of beasts, stole o'er Tyrest
and delivered justice through the night.
Dawn came to reveal the righteous end,
vast fields covered in gore,
blue helms, chrome crests, red capes,
soaked in pools across the floor.
The Great lord's house reached too far,
challenging the Black House's right.
His calls for change answered solely by Death,
its convoys of beasts showing true might."
"I typically hear that song in a more upbeat tempo." Ogrus announced as he took a few steps forward to reveal he was in the room.
"Greetings my lord, Triptych here prefers a more ominous singing of the tome." The purple companion to the individual on the slab announced with a smile as he stood. "I was not aware you were planning on visiting."
"It wasn't on my itinerary, but something has occurred that prompted me to visit our friend." Ogrus replied with an uncharacteristic smile, a gruesome appearance to all but his most familiar acquaintances, and to even many of them it was an unpleasant site. "How is he today?"
The mild smile offered with the initial greeting fell from the purple face of the patient's companion and was replaced with a look of sadness. "He is awake and alert, and has been for over an hour now, but…"
"But I'm dying and you're simply wasting good energon prolonging the inevitable." A raspy voice growled out from the patient, who was facing away from the door.
Ogrus chuckled as he walked toward the chair that the purple robot had stood up from and nodded to the companion, who took the cue and nodded a farewell to both the patient and the Emir. Ogrus watched him leave through the doors that he had entered through as he lowered his large frame into the chair and then smiled upon the slender, ancient robot laid out in front of him. Claws mounted around his forearms and partially-identifiable mandibles on his shoulders and neck gave a hint to his long unused bestial alternate mode, and dimness of his pink optics revealed the ebbing of the life-force that was keeping his frame alive, but likely not for much longer. Leaders of House Onyx and those they trusted most had looked to this individual for millions of years and saw the proof of their species potential immortality. That was until ten thousand years ago, when even the oldest of their kind was stricken with a case of cybercrosis that even the greatest of physicians and mystics could not cure.
The innermost energon and transformation cog had gone long ago, but the immersion in a field of pure energon in its gaseous state had managed to slow the progress of the disease to a crawl, preserving his ability to move until recent years, and allowing him to keep his sight, hearing and memory even now. But the limits of this treatment were beginning to show, and it became obvious that this ancient Cybertronian had entered his final vorn. Ogrus reached into the energon field and gently gripped a feeble hand, recognizing that the patient likely couldn't feel the touch. "It pains me to see my once powerful teacher so ravaged by this horrific disease."
"It pains you?" The elderly robot spat out through a pained chuckle. "You should feel the pain it's causing me!" He rattled out a few more guffaws. "Bah, at least the pain will be ending soon, and perhaps I'll once again see my friend Saurus."
"I would love for such a reunion to occur, dear Triptych, but understand that one as valuable as you are is difficult to part with." Ogrus smiled. "You've lived for over seventeen million years. You are the only living Cybertronian to remember the rule of the demons with five faces, the insurrection that removed them from our world, the emergence of the sparkeaters and their beasts, and the age of darkness that followed. You were ancient when the Knights first crawled from their sacred pits and rallied the planet. The Knights are gone, the sparkeaters are gone, the driven demons are gone; only you remain, and the knowledge that only you possess must be held on to for as long as possible."
Pink optics rolled. "I've been listening to this platitude since before Saurus Onyx was born, twelve million years ago."
Ogrus let loose a low, throaty chuckle. "In all fairness, those that had lived five million years were far less common then than they are now."
"Bah." Triptych grumbled. "Just tell me of this occurrence that brought you here. And it better be good, for me to have given up on Full Tilt's company in favor of your scowling face."
Ogrus smiled and nodded. "Two occurrences in actuality." A hard look replaced the smile. "Grimlock's four mindless grunts intervened in his match with Megatron, disqualifying him and giving Macht's gladiator the victory."
"I thought they were competent and honorable warriors," Triptych replied with some confusion, "why would they do something so stupid?"
"It gets worse." Onyx grumbled. "They fled, battering guards, and nearly killing some of the personal guard of House Torrent that had pursued them, causing significant damage to Shockwave himself."
"They assaulted a royal?" The ailing robot asked in anger. "How dare they?"
"Grimlock's been champing at the bit to kill me since shortly after our first meeting." Ogrus answered, his face taking a look of deep introspection. "Assaulting royals has never been taboo with that one."
"Why was House Torrent involved?" Triptych asked. "And Lord Shockwave himself? What could possess him to go after the most powerful gladiator…well, the second most powerful gladiator on the planet?"
"He's still the most powerful gladiator on the planet!" Ogrus snapped. "He was giving every bit as good as he was getting when those four idiots jumped in!"
"Fine, fine," Triptych waved dismissively, he didn't care enough about the matter to sit through a rant, "all the more unusual for Lord Shockwave to go after Grimlock and his team himself. I've heard that he's physically imposing, could it have been an urge to test himself? He wouldn't be the first royal to pull that shit."
"I'm not sure, but Swoop tried telling me something during the skirmish, and the more I think about it, the less easy it is to dismiss." Ogrus commented. "He said that Megatron, Macht's champion,"
"I know who he is."
Ogrus smiled. "Of course. According to Swoop, Megatron has secretly been organizing…something, some sort of underground movement meant to tear down the royal and noble houses. That in and of itself isn't outlandish, what made me immediately discard it was that he claimed Shockwave and Starsceam were members of this movement."
"Royals? Granted, Starscream is of common birth,…though that should make him even more protective of his new station." Triptych commented.
"Starscream is an opportunist according to Swoop, and in that regard, I can only agree." Ogrus replied thoughtfully. "If Megatron looked as though he could successfully take us down, then Starscream would likely jump ship."
"An impossible scenario."
"Yes, unless he had some very significant help from some very powerful individuals," Onyx shrugged, "individuals like Shockwave or possibly Rabattus Decimus."
"Neither of whom are emirs, and it truly would require several emirs to have even a chance of toppling Cybertropolis and all the ruling Houses." Triptych muttered weakly. "It's unlikely, but at the same time, you'd be a fool to completely discount the possible threat."
"I agree." Ogrus nodded. "I don't know what I'll do yet, but rest assured, old friend, precautions will be taken."
"And the other occurrence?" Triptych asked, his pink optics narrowing.
Ogrus chuckled. "There was an archaeological dig in the boney wastes of central Nyon that uncovered a structure buried over fifteen hundred feet below the surface." The Emir on Nyon noted the sudden interest etched into the face of the elderly Triptych. "After hours of traveling through what appeared to be an interconnected web of tunnels, the archaeologists discovered a central chamber."
"By the Hand, they discovered one of the great beasts!" Triptych gasped.
"Great beasts?" Ogrus leaned forward, allowing his face to enter into the flowing energon gas. "The cyber-creatures that hunted the dracosaurs to extinction?"
"Aye." Triptych chuckled. "Though even my birth came long after these events. No, I only know of the tales, and the mobile cities made from their corpses."
"Cities made from their corpses?" Ogrus grumbled. "Why have I not heard of this before?"
"I've been telling the lords of House Onyx these tales since I first came into service to the original Onyx." Triptych muttered. "I thought I'd told you, but perhaps not."
"What cities, and what corpses?" Ogrus pressed impatiently.
"Well, three cities I knew of, and while I believe two were corpses, rumor was that one was alive, but kept subservient." Triptych tried to explain, his voice trailing off as he fell into the long lost era of his youth. "They were more intelligent, cyber-primates of sorts that were either lobotomized or subdued via torture and made into cities that could shift into mobile battle stations. They managed to subdue smaller but still giant creatures as well, molding them to better fit their needs."
"I should punish you for not revealing this to me before now." Ogrus grumbled, more serious than not.
Triptych's optics lazily locked onto those of Ogrus's. "You truly have not heard me relay these legends to you before?"
An impatient "No" was the reply.
Triptych huffed. "Fine, but let me start at the beginning, or at least a starting point well before these events. Millions of years prior to my birth, spark based life on our world was simpler, but in many cases, vastly larger and more powerful. A theory developed by…" a look of absolute hatred came over the face of the ancient, "a Urayan piece of shit who I will leave unnamed, was that the pulses of Vector Sigma began less than, well, at this point it would be fifty million years ago. They started out as rare but highly destructive events that gave rise to sparks of exceptional power. This Urayan highborn shit believed there were four classifications of sparks, the blue communia that you, me and all but a handful of our species possess, the green superious that Saurus, your Grimlock and precious few others were blessed with, and two others that apparently aren't produced any longer, the yellow numen which numbered to the green sparks as the green sparks number to the blue. It is my belief that the guardian that aided in the repulsing of the sparkeaters and who is still rumored to be at the Gates possesses one of these. The most powerful, and by far the most rare, were the orange ignis deva."
"And these cities, they were made up of creatures possessing ignis deva?" Ogrus questioned, his voice filled with awe.
"That's what I assume based on the theory and what I saw of these cities as a youngster. When I saw two of these cities, well one was a city, the other had transformed to its mobile battle station mode, anyway, when I saw them there was no indication of any sort of animal or humanoid mode." Triptych muttered.
"You saw these things?"
"Aye, my lord." The dying bot replied. "I walked through glistening Metroplex…though truth be told, only the heart of the city was the true Metroplex. The majority of the city was sections that had been built around it later. And the Quintaxium was a blue, gray and red masterpiece of power and destruction. According to legend, Metroplex was left a living, thinking slave, but the beasts that became the Quinaxium and the equally magnificent Imperexium were left brain dead by the alterations to make them more…useful, appealing, however the demons with five faces wanted them. But the dragon of Nyon, that was something different. They did manage to subdue it, for a time anyway, but as they attempted the alterations to its shell mode, the dragon became uncontrollable, too savage and mindless for them to contain or make use of. According to the legends I heard, it ravaged all of Nyon before finally being overwhelmed by everything the demons could muster to stand against it. So, after finally battering the dragon to near death, they sent a team inside its body, up to its cranium, and blasted its brain, killing it. Millions of years later there were legends to emerge of miners claiming to have seen the Heart of the Dragon, I assume they mean the spark of the great beast, but without a functioning brain module the spark would have ceased to exist, especially after all these millions of years."
Ogrus leaned back and smiled. "You seem so certain."
Triptych fixed an almost annoyed looking stare on Ogrus. "Meaning?"
"The chamber, the one that the archaeologists burrowed into," Ogrus leaned forward again, "it possessed a pulsing, viable spark. One bigger than some Cybertronians, and one that burned bright orange."
"The heart of the dragon?" Triptych gasped. "The beast lives!"
Roller Pax
The mass transport was packed almost shoulder to shoulder, a situation that the sparsely populated Torus Heights had not prepared Roller Pax for. Not that preparation was needed, being of House Pax he neither feared nor despised the commoners he was pushed up against, and crowded spaces appeared to have no ill effect on him, but it was a new experience none the less. The first transport out of Polarus was a small twelve seater, and even that was only a third full. The other three passengers recognized him immediately, though only one of them bothered to ask him why he would take common transport. He had explained that he was at odds with Emir Olnius, and that he had chosen not to use House transport as he wished not to have to explain himself to the elder Pax. Thinking back on the tale, Roller smiled and decided that it possessed enough truth so that he shouldn't have felt guilty, though ultimately it was a lie none the less.
The shuttle had landed in Burthov, where he had to disembark and board another, larger shuttle. This time the shuttle seated thirty, and was over half full, and this time only two of the other sixteen passengers recognized him, though the only indication they gave was a slight smile and subtly bowed heads. Living on the border with Nova Cronum, they were well aware of the tensions, and needed no explanation for why a Pax would want not to be recognized when traveling outside The Torus Heights. Roller thanked Primus for his youth as they entered Nova Cronum airspace; any other member of his house would have been recognized by those in and around Burthov, but at six years of age he not had time to become well known to those outside Polarus.
A few hours later they had landed in Pescus Hex, on the southwest shores of the Mithril Sea, and looked out at the dark water remembering the last time he had traveled over it, then like now deep within the borders of Nova Cronum, and he hoped that someday he could return to Avalonius, but this time with Orion, to show his brother the land of his birth. The reverie faded quickly as Roller remembered he was in the lands of his enemy. He needed to be wary, to keep his head down. All around him were loyal to the Honorums, and would happily reveal his presence in their lands. Not that traveling through Nova Cronum was illegal; perhaps traveling under the false identity that Dion had arranged for him was, but Roller simply being in Nova Cronum was not a violation. Officially House Pax and House Honorum were on good terms, but everyone knew of the tension. Sentinel Prime of House Honorum had murdered Arlon Pax; executed would be the term used here, an execution that was well deserved according to many here and in other emirates that had come to loathe Orion Pax and his Autobots for the terrorist acts they were believed to be responsible for.
Roller knew the Autobots were innocent. Initially he had considered the possibility that they were responsible for the attacks, he had even considered them a retaliation for his taking of Orion. But these were not actions that those Orion had pledged himself to, and Arlon had died for, could be capable of. They had been the greatest men he knew, and if the Autobots had gained their trust, they deserved his. But for now he needed to concern himself with the survival of House Pax and The Torus Heights. While subtle, Sentinel Prime had been positioning military assets near the border surrounding the Torus Heights, and Olnius Pax had done nothing to address or prepare for the threat. Right now the Honorums had not right nor reason to invade, but eventually something would come up that Sentinel could use as a pretext for war. It was only a matter of time.
The transport Roller had filed into in the Pescus Hex airport comfortably held sixty; by Roller's estimates there were over eighty mech's standing in the craft. The good news was that he hadn't seen a single individual look as though they recognized him. Within a few hours they were entering the airspace of The Decagon, and Roller felt a layer of anxiety roll off of him as they left Nova Cronum. It took a little over three hours to reach Dodacahex, where they funneled out. There were security officers marching through the crowd, but they didn't bother anyone. The Maximus's were isolationists and tried to keep their involvement in the outside world, and the outside world's involvement in the Decagon, to a minimum, and in Protihex the guards would likely have been more attentive to every detail of every visitor, but Dodacahex was over a thousand miles away from the emirate's capital city, and things were far more lax here. Roller had no concern of being recognized as he entered the fourth and final shuttle of his trip, the craft he currently found himself in. This final leg of the trip was another three hour jaunt, making the entire journey south a nearly nine hour venture. Ultimately it was good time given that he was traveling from the polar region to near the equator, but had he taken a transport ship of House Pax, it would have taken him half that time.
But secrecy was a must, and as he finally disembarked the ship and stepped out onto the metal ground of Hyperious, he locked optics on the one individual he expected to be recognized by. He walked through the crowd and finally stopped in front of the lean pink form. "Lady Elita."
"Lord Roller." Elita Solus replied. "It is good to see you again."
Roller nodded and smiled. "As it is for me to see you. Lady Torenia sends her love, or I'm certain she would if she knew I was here."
"Why are you here, Lord Pax?" Elita cut right to it. "And why ask me to meet you in secret."
"You know the answer to both questions." Roller replied as he walked toward the street, prompting her to walk alongside him. "You say he can be trusted, and we both know what problems it could cause were I seen doing business with him."
"He won't do business with you." Elita Solus replied as they reached the street, transformed and sped out into traffic. "In the last few years the admiration he held for your brother's cause shifted to devotion…at least it did after I convinced him they were not responsible for all that's happened. And let's just say that word has spread throughout your brother's cause that you are the one responsible for your brother no longer being part of that cause."
"And it didn't occur to you to convince him I was acting in Orion's best interest?" Roller asked through a short-distance communication frequency. As he did so he noticed a larger than average aviaton, its black and red form originally soaring high above them in the opposite direction, but it immediately cut back and continued on skirting the rooftops of the buildings they were driving past. The sudden course change was not unusual for aerial beasts, but it was still fun to watch, and Roller considered the reasons for why the bird had done so. Likely spotted prey, or seen a potential challenger approaching from the other direction. He devoted only a few seconds to this thinking before focusing back on his conversation. "Or that Orion was still alive?"
"No," Elita shot back, "it never occurred to me as I never thought it would be an issue. Frankly, I thought it best to keep any discussion regarding your brother to a minimum."
"Well, be prepared to speak on my behalf." Roller muttered. "He may be the only avenue left for House Pax to get the means to defend itself." Several minutes passed before they were finally stopping in front of a factory. Elita transformed to robot mode and Roller followed suit. "So this is it?"
"Just let me do the talking." Elita muttered as she walked up to the building and entered the front door. As they walked into the vast expanse, several workers turned to see who had entered, including a short orange robot who beamed at seeing Elita.
"My Lady!" The short robot exclaimed as he approached them, bowing gently.
"No need for formalities dear friend." Elita replied. "This is my friend," she watched as Erector turned to Roller Pax and displayed a broad smiile, "Roller." The smile faded in an instant. There was a long silence between them for a moment before Elita continued. "May we speak with you in private?"
Erector's optics remained affixed to Roller, almost glaring at him before he finally broke the gaze and turned back to Elita. "Of course, my lady." He led them up the stairs, through the hallway and into his office, closing the door behind them after they had all entered, and turned sharply to her. "Roller? As in Roller Pax?"
"Yes, I am Roller of House Pax." Roller answered despite not having the question asked of him.
"My lady," Erector stammered, "he is…it's him that's the reason…I have reason to believe that he may be…somehow…"
"I know you've become an Autobot." Elita interrupted. "I like to think I played a role in you going that route."
"I was already on that path," Erector replied, glaring agitatedly at Roller, "and regardless of what this one has told you, he is no friend to our cause. Why have you brought him here?"
"I wish to procure advanced weapons systems for the defense of The Torus Heights." Roller answered. "I was told you're one of the best smiths on the planet, and that you may be willing and able to assemble what we need and deliver them without being noticed."
"I'm doing nothing to aid you!" Erector spat at the northerner before turning back to Elita. "He betrayed his brother. He may have even murdered him."
"Bah, that's insane." Roller grumbled, earning him a look of anger from Elita.
"Yes, he took Orion, and did so against Orion's will, and had to subdue some Autobots in the process." Elita replied, noting the look of surprise on Erector's face. "Yes, Roller has told me of what happened. He also told me that a loyal servant of their House escorted Orion off-world for his own safety, and given the resources and dedication Sentinel Prime had devoted to finding Orion, being off-world may very well have been a necessary step in keeping him alive."
"He's a liar." Erector growled. "I am sorry to hear he has taken you in, my lady, but I will not believe him, nor will I arm his house."
"Erector, he is not lying." Elita attempted to sway the builder.
Erector glared hatefully into Roller's optics. "Perhaps it's best if you leave, Lord Pax."
"If that's what you wish, Erector." Roller nodded. "But first, may I make one more request? I recognize you're unwilling to produce large scale weapons systems, but would you be willing to produce a personal weapon? One that can fold up to be concealed within a frame?"
Erector laughed. "Are you serious?" He glanced over at Elita before turning back to Roller. "You really think I'd be willing to design a weapon that you can carry in secret and use for…whatever reason you see fit? What kind of weapon is this?" His mirthless chuckling continued.
"An ion cannon." Roller replied matter of factly, causing Erector's laughter to increase in volume.
"An ion cannon?" He spat out. "First of all, there's no way I would give a treacherous piece of kinslaying shit like you a weapon that powerful. Secondly, there's no way I could produce an ion cannon small enough for you to fit within your frame."
"It's not for my frame." Roller muttered as he pulled out a datapad and shoved it into Erector's hesitant hands.
Erector peered down at the pad and seemed confused. "You've designed a back-hatch to hold the weapon…and it's not a bad design. There's definitely room for improvement, but for one that's not an engineer, they're pretty good plans. As is, it just might work for a much larger frame."
"The frame dimensions are on there." Roller replied, prompting Erector to scrutinize the data pad further.
"Height, twenty two feet, two inches," Erector read off absently, "back width…eight feet, three inches?" Erector looked at Roller skeptically before looking back down at the pad and continuing. "Width at shoulders, thirteen feet, four inches! Waist of," he looked up at Roller again, "get the hell out, five and a half feet with a slow taper at the top and a rapid taper in the lower torso? By the Hand, mesomorph doesn't even come close to describing this. What is this guy, a slender seventeen footer armor-enhanced out the wazzoo?"
"That's his natural frame." Roller replied. "Only tires and motors have been added to it."
"Who the hell is built like…" he turned and looked at Elita.
Elita met his gaze with a smile and a nod. "I'd recommend a red coloration for the back compartment."
Roller stepped forward and placed his hand on Erector's shoulder. "I swear to you, sir, that I never have and never will act against my brother's best interests. But there are those that will, all of them well armed and powerful, and Orion Pax needs to be able to defend himself when he comes home."
Erector slowly turned his gaze from Elita and studied Roller's face. He studied it for many long seconds before finally nodding slowly. "Of course Lord Pax, I will make this my highest priority. Please provide me with the list of weaponry House Pax will require as well, and I'll see to it that The Torus Heights is defended."
Roller smiled into Erector's optics and gently squeezed his shoulder.
Bumblebee
He barreled through the hallway, turning corners too sharply, occasionally bouncing off the legs of comrades unfortunate enough to be striding into his path, who could only turn back at him as he sped away from them and curse him with whatever profanity was most popular in the regions they hailed from. Typically the incident would be forgotten by those he collided with, but unfortunately for Bumblebee, the recipient of his final bump prior to reaching his destination was Sunstreaker, who was not one to dismiss a slight or injury, no matter how insignificant. The round, disk-like yellow ground cruiser veered around the corner, skidded through the turn and banked off of the pristinely polished yellow leg of Sunstreaker. "Hey!"
"Sorry." Bumblebee muttered as he course corrected and continued on down the hallway.
"Get back here!" Sunstreaker bellowed after him.
"Can't," the smaller of the two yellow bots called back, "incoming call for the brass!"
"I said get back here!" Sunstreaker roared. "Now!" Bumblebee continued on, knowing that this would come back to haunt him later. Were Sideswipe here, there would be a chance of Sunstreaker being talked down and letting the incident go, but the red sibling wasn't around to sooth his brother, so this would fester until Sunstreaker was able to strike back in some way. "You've made the list, bitch!"
Up ahead was the makeshift command room of their latest headquarters, so he finally slowed, just enough to allow for a transformation, and was sent stumbling through the double doors of the well-lit but still depressing looking chamber. "Blaster, Perceptor, Hotspot,…"
"Not now Bumblebee." Perceptor replied dismissively before continuing what he was telling the other two as they were leaning over a small circular table in the center of the small, dimly lit room. "That's not an option. Even the few lowborn wealthy that believe us aren't willing to aid us out of fear of what would happen to them should they be discovered."
Blaster shook his head. "That's what you said before we approached Erec…"
"Hey!" Bumblebee snapped, causing the three to turn to him in agitated surprise. "This is important!"
The three exchanged a glance with one another before Blaster turned back to the small yellow bot and gave a broad grin, taking a step around the table to open up a space for the intruder. "Well, it had better be,…Bee." He noted the stares from his comrades at his hesitation at using a name that sounded identical to the verb that immediately preceded it.
Bumblebee hesitantly walked up to the table and jacked a cord from his wrist into a port on the center of the tabletop. "I've got Prowl on hold."
They all were stunned at the statement, peering intently at Bumblebee for a couple of seconds before Hotspot managed to spit a question out through his faceplate. "Theeee Prowl?"
"Yeah, theeee Prowl." Prowl's voice came through the speaker. "Spare Bumblebee any dirty looks, I'd have been able to contact any one of you if necessary; I've known where you've been at for a few weeks now. Bumblebee just happened to be the easiest to call."
"If you know where we are, why aren't we already in shackles being loaded into a wagon bound for dungeons or gallows or wherever?" Blaster grumbled, nodding to Hotspot, who immediately jumped toward the door to begin an emergency evacuation of the facility.
"Because I know you're innocent of the terrorist attacks." Prowl replied. "And the crimes that you are guilty of don't warrant the wrath Prime would bring down on you, so I've kept your current whereabouts to myself."
"That's very sweet of you." Blaster replied skeptically. "It's too bad that you can't convince Prime of our innocence."
"I tried; got me fired." Prowl responded.
"Sorry to hear that." Blaster answered almost absently as his fingers were a flurry of action, deleting data from the computer built into the table, Perceptor across from him doing the same thing. "Tough to be unemployed these days. At least you're not a commoner anymore, then you'd really be scraping away for energon."
"I am a commoner," Prowl explained, "my lands and titles were stripped along with my position. Though I managed to hold on to a few possessions I acquired back when I was somebody. Hoping I may have managed to hold on to a few contacts as well."
"I'm sure you'll find a way to come out on top." Blaster replied dismissively. "Frankly, I'm surprised Prime didn't have you locked away in addition to the shitcanning and stripping of your nobility."
"Look, I get that you don't have any reason to believe me, and understand the plan to stall me with chit-chat while you prepare to evacuate the facility and evade an assault you genuinely believe to be imminent," Prowl cut in, "but time is a factor so I need to cut to the chase. I've managed to get some information regarding the next planned attack you're going to get credit for. I'm not in a position to stop it, but perhaps your group is."
A look of cynical amusement came over Blaster's face. "You do realize I'm a bit skeptical to say the least, don't you?"
"Of course, but what you need to do is remind yourself that if I really wanted to apprehend you, I wouldn't need to set a trap in a busy city, I'd have just surrounded your position prior to calling you." Prowl replied. "Or to be more accurate, I wouldn't have bothered to call you at all."
"It's still too much for us to swallow." Blaster replied, looking up to see Hotspot re-enter the room, giving a nod indicating that the evacuation procedures were under way.
"Move!" An unknown voice grumbled through the speaker. "Hey, this is Grimlock, I'm sure someone in your group has heard of me."
"I've certainly heard of Grimlock." Blaster replied. "Damn near everyone has heard of the Simfurian juggernaut. Though I strongly doubt the real Grimlock would be hanging around Prowl."
"Yeah, it's been a turn of events, but trust me, I'm the only Grimlock." The deep voice came back. "There are a couple of Autobots I used to know, they fought on some of my undercards, claimed to be siblings, like genuine spark-spliced siblings. Sunstripe and Sweeper or something."
"Sideswipe is out on a reconnaissance mission, but Sunstreaker's in our location." Blaster replied, nodding to Hotspot to retrieve the yellow Autobot, who immediately disappeared into the hall. "Sending for him now."
A few moments later the quiet whir of motors could be heard followed by a transformation. Sunstreaker walked into the room, being sure to shoot Bumblebee a glare as he entered. "What?"
"You know Grimlock?" Blaster's question got a look of total surprise etched into Sunstreaker's handsome features.
"Uhh, yeah." Sunstreaker replied hesitantly as he approached the table. "Met him a couple times."
"You the red one or the yellow one?" Grimlock's voice blurted through the speaker.
"I'm the gorgeous one." Sunstreaker replied.
"OK, the vain yellow asshole, good, kind of liked you better." Grimlock replied. "You were part of Megatron's little conspiracy, his grand deception as he liked to call it."
"Yeah, he recruited us at the same time as you, remember?" Sunstreaker replied with a bit of sarcasm.
"That wasn't a question, now shut up and wait for the actual question." Grimlock grumbled back. "You ever hear any mention of actions they were planning on taking?"
Sunstreaker shrugged and shook his head, despite the fact that Grimlock had no way of seeing his reaction. "Naw, man, it was all just pie in the sky, someday shit. Build our support base, prepare, put assets in position, and then when we're ready, wham!" Sunstreaker punched his hand. "We strike against the high born, abolish the system, and set one up where the biggest contributors, regardless of where they were born, get to run the show. But we were decades away from being anywhere near that point. The only action we were ever told to perform was to try and recruit a cop. Megatron himself was involved, cop didn't want to join, threatened to take us down, locked horns with Megs, Megs won…barely, he was about to execute the cop until my brother stepped in and rescued the cop, making us persona non grata with the gladiatorial circuit, Swindle's crime syndicate, and most especially, Megatron." Sunstreaker explained before continuing with a grin and a joking tone. "So how have you been?"
"What do you mean won…barely?" Grimlock muttered.
"Cop was tough." Sunstreaker replied. "Bounced back, and tossed Sentinel Prime around a couple days later."
"Oh, that guy." Grimlock grumbled. "So Megatron wanted you on his team, but didn't trust you enough to make you aware of what he's really been up to."
"And what's that?" Sunstreaker asked, noting Blaster waving him to walk closer to him.
"Is it really Grimlock?" Blaster whispered.
Sunstreaker nodded a confirmation as Grimlock replied. "The terrorist attacks that have been blamed on you, those have been orchestrated by Megatron."
A look of surprise came over Sunstreaker. "Why the hell would he do that?"
"Misdirection." Blaster replied thoughtfully.
"As well as forcing the populace to question the competence of Sentinel Prime's government as the attacks continued to come." Prowl piped back in to offer. "My guess is that when Megatron is finally willing to go public, it will involve the perception that he and his movements finally put an end to the attacks. The public will be far more accepting of his new world order after he's become their savior."
"And the government hunting us down and slaughtering us in the process?" Perceptor asked.
"Not Megatron's problem." Grimlock grumbled. "You're just collateral damage in his grand deception."
"So where and when is this potential attack?" Blaster asked.
"Lower Petrex," Prowl replied, "about three hours from now."
"How do you know this?" Blaster asked. "I've eavesdropped on a few transmissions that led me to believe that Grimlock and his friends are just as 'non-grataed' with the fight circuit as Sunstreaker here."
"Let's just say a little bird told us." Grimlock replied.
"Look, I've already sent a head's up to a member of House Decimus, someone I know who wouldn't be involved in the murderous attacks." Prowl said.
The statement caused a confused look to come over Blaster, who looked to Sunstreaker for any possible explanation. Sunstreaker nodded. "Rumor is that Megatron is friends with Senator Rabattus Decimus."
"So hopefully the attack will be thwarted." Prowl continued. "This was merely a courtesy call to let you guys know you can possibly capitalize on this to take steps in clearing your name."
Blaster thought on that quietly before looking up at Perceptor. "Any indication that we're about to get a visit?"
Perceptor shook his head, his optics glued to the screen below him. "Nothing."
Blaster thought quietly for several more moments before finally replying to Prowl. "Do you have anything more specific regarding the attack, Prowl?"
"Knight Decimus Amphitheater of Lower Petrex, tonight during a performance of 'Rally At Ankmor'." Prowl replied.
"I hate that play." Blaster grumbled. "House Decimus propaganda."
"Well it's lower Petrex, so the majority of victims are going to be commoners." Prowl replied. "Bad taste or not, they're your people."
"There's no 'our people', there's just people." Blaster replied. "But yeah, either way, we need to do what we can to help." Blaster looked to Hotspot. "I don't trust this guy, so I'm only going to send one squad."
"Let me take First Aid, Streetwise and a couple others." Hotspot requested. "If Petrex security forces are involved, rescue, crowd control and medical skills will be more in need than fighters."
Blaster nodded. "Take them and three others. Bring both lethal and non-lethal firearms; non-lethal for law enforcement, lethal for the bad guys. We're not screwing around anymore."
"Understood." Hotspot replied.
"Then get moving, from here to Petrex is almost 3 hours if you take a shuttle. Don't get caught, killed or hurt…in that order."
"Aye, sir."
Junkyard
He couldn't believe the difference that had been made in just a few months. When he had last been in the city of Compostus Prime, the foundation for this 'hospital' had barely been laid. It was a project originating from the Pax Lo-Gar which Wreck Gar had agreed to, and which had gone up with extreme speed and efficiency, even by the standards of the fast working Junkions. It was an odd undertaking that met with a fair bit of resistance from the populace. For one, resources were limited, too limited for a structure such as this, according to many of the critics. Secondly, it seemed to run against their cultural identity; Junkions were the very essence of robustness and self-sufficiency, and prided themselves on being able to patch themselves together with whatever resources happened to be available. Junkions had no need for these hospitals. And finally, the fact that the idea originated from an off-worlder, one who would go on to design and oversee the construction of, even an off-worlder who had managed to garner the respect and trust of most Junkions, was more than a bit unsettling. Even Junkyard, who dealt with off-worlders with reasonable frequency, was still a bit uneasy around the Pax Lo-Gar.
To him, Orion Pax wasn't an off-worlder, he was a home-worlder. Most Junkions didn't appreciate the difference, but Junkyard was a trader, likely the only one that still made trips off world to trade with other-worlders. It was a real honor, and testament to the faith the Gar had in him that he was able to use the resources needed for off-world travel, but the faith was deserved. He always returned with far more than the trip consumed. He liked aliens, some of his happiest moments was in their company, on their ships or sometimes on their planets. But like any Junkion old enough to remember being a colony world, he had a great mis-trust and fear of Cybertron and those hailing from it. He had come to like Orion Pax, and had even felt him to be deserving of the role of Lo-Gar, but he still didn't fully trust the home-worlder, and likely never would.
But though he may be a bit apprehensive around the Pax Lo-Gar, he had to concede that the guy had been extremely efficient in getting this structure built. Junkyard transformed into his bi-wheeled ground cruiser mode and sped over to the group assembling in front of the almost completed hospital. There was the Pax Lo-Gar standing with two representatives of the Gar, Nan-Cee and Pinion, as well as prominent Compostus citizens Trashbin, Hazmat and Re-Cycle. Approaching them from the direction opposite Junkyard was Weirdal, the Lo-Gar of the Compostus sector, his large junk-hauling alternate mode kicking up refuse as he barreled toward them. Both he and Weirdal Lo-Gar reached the group at the same time, but the Lo-Gar was first to greet the assembled guests standing before over a hundred citizens there to attend the official opening of the hospital. "Da' ever cee, Nan-Cee! Welcome to Compostus Prime." He embraced the conjux of the Gar with a smile before nodding to the others in front of the hospital then looking to Junkyard. "Great you bein' on world, Junkyard. We have to 'iscuss your travelin' and what brought-back you have later." The two friends smiled at each other before Weirdal Lo-Gar turned to his fellow Lo-Gar. "Pax! Da' 'osptial bein' 'tacular! And so fast wit' da' finish!" The two shook wrists, and then Weirdal Lo-Gar turned to the assembled citizens. "Greetings, 'zens! Be thankin' you for coming! Momentous 'ccasion, 'ospital here to bein' fixin' severe hurts and breaks. Da' Weirdal don't be knowin' nuthin 'bout fixin, me be only good for one thing…garbage, but me trustin' da' Pax Lo-Gar, and him know thing 'bout fixin."
The crowd cheered at the short, simple speech, or at least most of the crowd was cheering. A group of four Junkions was pushing its way through to the front, and within a few moments the bulky, powerful forms of prominent Junkions from other sectors were standing before Weirdal Lo-Gar and the others. "The Pax knows more about re-colonizing than he does about fixing!" The hulking brown apparent leader of the group called out through his mouthplate. Everyone present recognized him to be Greasestain, Lo-Gar of the Piletian sector, and his comrades to be Hood, a prominent citizen of Compaxus Prime, Arclight, a prominent citizen of Jolappa Seven, and Wasteoid Gamma, a suspected criminal hailing from Lafilla Nine. "This abomination is an affront to Junk, its citizens and it's culture! The Gar has ordered that it be torn down, and that those who aided in its construction be slaughtered."
"You're telling us, Greasestain Lo-Gar, that the Gar ordered the murder of citizens?" The Pax Lo-Gar asked with a chuckle that clearly exhibited his disbelief in the statement.
"The Gar ordered the execution of traitors, Orion Pax of Cybertron!" Wasteoid Gamma barked out.
"Wreck Gar has ordered no such thing!" Nan-Cee snarled loud enough so that all present could hear. She knew that nobody on the stage in front of the hospital would entertain such considerations, but she wanted to reassure the crowd just in case some of them had doubts. "He approved and has fully endorsed this 'ospital!"
"The 'pinion of the traitor Wreck means nothin'!" The predominantly blue Hood snapped back. "He is no longer Gar of Junk!"
The Pax Lo-Gar groaned and stepped forward to the front edge of the stage. "So, Detritus has appointed himself Gar now, has he?" Pax asked, but continued speaking before anyone could answer. "Arclight, I have heard that you had a conjux endurae named Rubbish who died of a zero point twenty thousand years ago. Is this correct?"
"Do not dare to mention his name, Cybertronian!" Arclight snarled.
"Junkions, moreso than other races of our species, are better suited to undergo a complete body re-build than the rest of us, which is the only way to treat a zero point." Pax Lo-Gar continued, disregarding the threatening tone in Arclight's bark. "But it still is a major undertaking, requiring specialized equipment and materials not found within the junk piles of this planet. Had this hospital existed twenty thousand years ago, Rubbish would still be alive. Many Junkions who have passed would still be alive. This planet now has less than sixty remaining protoforms. There is no hyper dense energy cluster at the core of this world, no sparks will ever be produced here, these remaining protoforms are the last newborns you will ever have. You cannot maintain your birthrate beyond one more generation, for your race and your culture to continue to exist, you must drastically reduce your mortality rate. This is simple logic, simple math; it is not colonial propaganda."
"Enough!" Greasestain Lo-Gar roared. "Orion Pax of Cybertron is to be executed. Our orders are the execute the rest of you as well, but if you bend the knee and swear fealty to Detritus Gar, if you swear to fight with us and help us to remove Wreck from the throne of Junkion Prime, then you will be spared. It is an act of mercy I am offering, one that runs contrary to my orders, but I feel that if you prove yourselves loyal to your new and rightful ruler, he may not punish me too severely. This offer is good for a very limited time though, so choose wisely, but choose now."
"Let these people go." Pax Lo-Gar replied through his makeshift faceplate. "It is me you want, I'll remain, and once they're gone the four of you can try to kill me."
"Four of us?" Greasestain Lo-Gar asked with a wicked chuckled echoing through his own faceplate. He then sounded a horn build into his shoulder. In moments roughly twelve score of warriors on either side appeared on the ridges that surrounded the basin that the hospital was built in. "There are two hundred fifty of us here to kill you, Orion Pax!"
"My request goes unchanged." The Pax Lo-Gar called out loudly, not showing any sign of fear. "Allow these people to leave, and whether facing four or four hundred, I'll make no attempt to escape."
"Nay!" Weirdal Lo-Gar roared. "Pax Lo-Gar not stand alone!"
"Weirdal, do not be stupid!" Greasestain Lo-Gar snapped. "You need not die. Join us, Detritus will allow you to retain your title as Lo-Gar of Compostus. If you dare to oppose us, you will be killed."
"I dare to be stupid!" Weirdal Lo-Gar replied without a moment of hesitation.
"I stand with the Pax Lo-Gar as well!" Nan-Cee called out, causing Pax to turn and shake his head at her.
"No, Nan-Cee, you must escape." Pax whispered.
"Silence Orion." Nan-Cee whispered back with a smile. "Even the Gar can't tell me what to do."
"I stand with the Pax Lo-Gar!" Pinion, Trashbin, Hazmat and Re-Cycle all called out in unison.
Many of the citizens started walking forward, putting themselves between Greasestain Lo-Gar's group and the Pax Lo-Gar. Even Junkyard, who did not fully trust the Cybertronian, found himself walking and standing with them. Greasestain Lo-Gar glared at them all and stepped forward, turning to the group that had not stepped forward, mostly fearful citizens who had no desire to be involved in this in any way. "They have made their choice. You have not, not yet anyway. Bend the knee, take your place at the sides of our warriors, take a weapon, and help us kill these traitors to Junk! Do it now, or you will be cut to corpses along with the rest of them. My soldiers have already surrounded this position, there is no escape. You are either with us, or you are with them."
"Citizens," the Pax Lo-Gar called out with a voice like thunder, "those able and willing to fight with us, line up with us before the main hospital entrance! Those unable or unwilling, get inside the hospital! We will protect you! Do it now!" The moment his voice went silent, the trampling of garbage by hundreds of feet echoed off the ravine walls as the vast majority of the civilians charged toward the entrance to the hospital. When all was done, thirty-five of the civilians remained outside to fight alongside the Pax Lo-Gar, while twenty had gone up the ridges to join the forces loyal to Detritus Gar; the rest were inside, fearfully peering out through the windows. Pax Lo-Gar looked to those standing with him. "I thank you for standing with me, you all have tremendous courage. Please sort through the debris and find whatever you can to use as a weapon." Pax then reached behind his back and pulled out a large, dual-bladed battle axe.
"You will die today, Orion Pax," Greasestain Lo-Gar called out as he and the other three with him backed up to fall into their advancing force, "Detritus Gar's only regret is that he isn't here to kill you himself!"
"No, Detritus's regret is that he is physically incapable of killing me himself!" Orion called back loudly. He then looked over the army arrayed against him. "Citizens of Junk, I am Orion Pax of The Torus Heights of Cybertron, named Lo-Gar of Sector Refurbia by Wreck Gar, the rightful Gar of Junk! I understand you have points of contention with some of his decisions, mostly related to me, and disagreeing with his decisions is your right! Expressing your dissatisfaction is your right! Armed insurrection is NOT your right! Murdering civilians is most definitely NOT your right! Throw down your weapons, return home, seek new leadership through legal and peaceful means if you must, but do not remain here! I have no desire to hurt any of you, but if you pose a threat to those standing with me to preserve the law and those we are protecting, I will use any means at my disposal to stop you! If that means killing you, all of you, then so be it!" Roughly half of the warriors assembled against him were silently awed, the other half, including Greasestain Lo-Gar, Hood, Arclight and Wasteoid Gamma, slowly burst into laughter.
"We outnumber you five to one, Pax!" Greasestain Lo-Gar yelled back. "And our soldiers ARE soldiers! None of you know the first thing about fighting!"
The Pax Lo-Gar's optics narrowed and he tightened his grip on his axe with his right hand while adjusting his faceplate to be more secure with his left. "Trust me, Greasestain, I know a few things about fighting."
Greasestain Lo-Gar nodded, then turned his head over his left shoulder to call out to those behind him. "Kill them all!" He roared. The thunder of hundreds of feet tearing down toward the hospital was deafening,
"Form a wedge on me!" Pax Lo-Gar roared out over the sound of trampling. "Force them out to the sides, away from the doors! They mean to kill you, then to kill those inside, then move on to kill others who would not join them! There is no negotiating with them, no reasoning, no pleading! They will kill you no matter what you do or say! Your only choice is to strike back! Do not hesitate to kill those that are intent on killing you and the innocents you are defending!"
"Aye!" Weirdal Lo-Gar called out, his voice barely audible over the roar of the quickly approaching two hundred fifty warriors bearing down on them. A moment later the wave of charging Junkions slammed into them, barreling most of the defenders over. Junkyard managed to thrust a spear he had managed to make from an old rusty pole into the throat of one of the oncoming warriors, but that didn't keep him from getting bowled over by the surge. He struggled against two murderous soldiers that were on top of him, he felt his face getting pushed into the sludge beneath him, he felt a blade cut into his side, then withdraw, and he managed to see that blade being positioned over his chest. It would only be a moment before it would be driven into his spark chamber, its wielder's maniacal optics flaring wildly as he was about to end Junkyard's life, but those optics went dark as the head they were embedded in went sailing into the air. Junkyard turned his head sharply to see the blades of Pax Lo-Gar's axe whipping away from his almost-murderer, then to Pax Lo-Gar's body as he was yanking up Junkyard's other assailant with his free hand and hurtling him back over the horde of marauding soldiers.
Junkyard forced himself to get up, struggling through the shoves and weight of bodies pressing from all sides. He looked down to see the dagger still in the hand of the decapitated soldier that had tried to kill him, and pulled that free. He saw three warriors assailing Nan-Cee, and charged to her aid, plunging his blade through the back of the neck of the nearest attacker. The attacker gasped, sending blobs of fluid out of his mouth and catching the attention of his comrade next to him, who turned and sliced at Junkyard with his short-sword, cutting a deep gouge into his cheek. Junkyard pulled his dagger free and thrust it at the other attacker, who parried the thrust and stabbed Junkyard in the belly. Junkyard gasped, but instinctively drove his dagger up, catching the other fighter under his lower jaw, and driving it up into his cranial shell, killing him. The warrior fell, leaving his short sword sticking out of Junkyard's stomach.
Junkyard reached down and pulled it out, a spurt of energon mixed with mech fluid shot out onto the corpse of the one that had stabbed him, and almost through a haze he looked over and watched Nan-Cee struggling against her last assailant. Junkyard stepped to intervene once again, but another wave of attackers overwhelmed him and sent him down to the ground. He didn't know what was happening, how many there were, where they were positioned on him, he only knew his limbs were pinned down by the weight of multiple bodies, he was unable to move them or anything other than his head, and that he was feeling the occasional stab into his lower torso. He gritted his teeth through the pain, and looked over to see Nan-Cee on the ground as well. She was no longer fighting one attacker, but now several were on her, slamming fists into her head. She winced with each blow, but refused to give them the pleasure of crying out in pain. Junkyard could only watch as the tip of a spear was driven into her shoulder, the laughter of the monster wielding it cutting through the cacophony of chaos around them. Even then, Nan-Cee refused to cry out in pain. The laughing bastard pulled the spear free and then without any warning whatsoever, drove it down through Nan-Cee's left optic and into her cranial shell. Her face went blank, the only movement her body made was caused others pushing against her, and when her murdered pulled his spear out of her head, causing it to lift and drop back to the ground with a thud.
An enraged roar preceded another thud, one caused by a fist slamming into the back of Nan-Cee's killer with such force that a dent in the shape of a spark chamber pressed out from front of his chest. The killer was in shock from the pain, and could not even turn to see the blade that came down and cut him in two from left clavicle to crotch. His two sides fell away from each other revealing an outraged Pax Lo-Gar. He quickly bent over to examine Nan-Cee, ignoring the blows hammering down on him from all sides. Junkyard felt the weight on him lessen to the point of non-existence as his attackers got off of him to attack Pax. At confirming that Nan-Cee was dead, Orion Pax of The Torus Heights of Cybertron, Lo-Gar of Reburbia, exploded into a blur of life-ending motion. His axe mowed through wave after wave of attacker. Were it wielded by anyone else, it would have been a poor choice in such close quarters combat, but his strength was such that those pressed against him were easily pushed back to a distance suitable for swinging his axe.
Due to the pain, the psychological shock of what was happening, or both, Junkyard was in a haze as he watched the home-worlder cut through the enemy forces. A handful of dead marauders in Pax's wake quickly turned to a dozen, then two dozen. Wave after wave of warrior charged him, a few getting past his axe, some even landing blows that would have laid low anyone else, but the Pax Lo-Gar wasn't slowed in the least. Finally the hulking Wasteoid Gamma appeared, the soldiers parting aside to allow him to face the Pax Lo-Gar alone. "Alright, Shitbag, time to put your homeworld ass down." Wasteoid Gamma threatened before charging. Pax Lo-Gar didn't even bother using his axe, catching the handle of Wasteoid Gamma's oncoming axe, pulling it aside, and delivering a head-butt to Wasteoid Gamma's nose that damn near forced it to point inward. Pax then drove the bottom of his axe handle into Wasteoid Gamma's optic, pushed it in deep, and then used it to hoist him up and flip him over onto the ground behind him. He then stomped down hard on his face, crushing his head and leaving the criminal's body twitching in the fluid-soaked ground.
Pax then whipped around and glared at the army standing against him, now a third the size it had originally been due primarily to his efforts. "Greasestain!" At his roar the opposing army looked within its own ranks, eventually finding their commanding officer standing back next to Arclight and Hood. "Face me, coward! Deliver on your promise to Detritus! Bring him my head!"
The sounds of battle quickly faced and all optics turned to Greasestain, who took a step forward, smiled malevolently at Pax, but then transformed to a dual-wheeled attack cruiser and quickly turned, speeding away. Arclight and Hood followed suit, followed shortly by the majority of what was left of their army. Only those who had been conscripted from the original crowd of civilians remained, and they were quick to drop their weapons to the ground. The Pax Lo-Gar watched the original ravagers flee and felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He turned to look into the optics of Weirdal Lo-Gar, one of the few bots capable of looking down on Pax, and even then he was barely a foot taller. Weirdal Lo-Gar was missing his other arm and battered severely on every part of his body that was still attached. "Well job, Pax, we won."
"One battle." Pax Lo-Gar muttered in reply. "The first battle in a war. A war that may very well bring about the end of Junk." He then turned and walked over to Nan-Cee's body. "I need to return her to our Gar." He carefully lifted her off the ground and carried her into the hospital, presumably to wash the body, passing through dozens of civilians who were hesitantly exiting, all making way for Nan-Cee, and soon the three dozen others who had fallen to save them. Three of them ran directly to Junkyard, who was just now noticing the intense pain coming from all over his body. They lifted him, muttered assurances to him, but all he could do was watch the lifeless head of the Gar's conjux endurae bobbing with each step the Pax Lo-Gar took.
Runabout
What a screw up. He'd been doing this shit for years without any sort of hitch, then he's thrown in with four guys he's never worked with before for a simple 'plant and detonate' job in Ankmor. No sooner had they gotten within a mile of the amphitheater than they were told to pull over and allow for a search of their persons as well as the trailer that this Clench was hauling by two badged shitbags. To hell with that, they hadn't been told to put any effort into hiding the explosives, that crap was just laying out on the floor of the trailer, so half a second later Runabout was in robot stabbing one Petrex flatfoot in the neck and blasting his partner in the face from point blank range. Yeah, there were witnesses, but these prissy northern bitches wouldn't do squat, just call it in and wait for other cops to arrive. So they'd just plant the explosives a bit early, detonate a bit early, and while the body count wouldn't be what they were hoping for, it ultimately didn't matter. It'd be another attack that would undermine the powers that be and keep them focused on those pissants with the Common Man face branded into them. No big deal.
But that's when everything went to shit. Runabout figured that these two coppers would be the only ones within ten miles; it's not like they were near anything important, these were the slums of Lower Petrex. But no, the moment the second cop hit the ground security officers were swarming in around them, and not just the local pigs, no, there was House Decimus security forces charging in, weapons blazing. Of course, while they had the numbers, they were completely unprepared for the likes of them. Dead End, Ruckus, Wildrider and Clench transformed, as did Clench's trailer, which to Runabout's surprise had a mounted dual-barreled rocket launcher within it. And that big bastard Clench certainly knew how to use it, as he was decimating the Decimus's in short order. Of the initial wave of security forces, only one big bruiser and one little twerp were left, the big bastard having shrugged off the explosion of his comrade next to him who had taken a round from Clench's launcher dead center in his chest and had the wherewithal to dive for cover behind a building, and the little bastard transformed to dual-wheel speeder mode and zipped down an alley. Both were now taking pot-shots at them, keeping Runabout and his group from getting to the amphitheater.
"There!" A voice called out from the street above, causing Clench to direct his fire up toward its source. Several security goons and a shiny, prissy looking blue and white bot dove away from the edge of the street just as it exploded. Chunks of street started raining down on them along with return fire, forcing Runabout and his crew to take cover as well. After an initial barrage the voice called back out again. "Surrender, you are outnumbered! I, Mirage of House Decimus, give you my word that you will be taken alive and unharmed if you stand down!"
"Lord Decimus, leave their apprehension to us!" The big bruiser from the first wave of security shlubs called back up to his boss.
"Rook, who from your squad still remain?" Mirage yelled back down, ignoring the suggestion of withdrawing.
"Myself and Groove, my lord!" Rook called back. "The rest were laid low by that cannon."
"You're all gonna be laid low, you highborn shit!" Clench, staying in character, barked out. "You and these agents of inequity! The Autobots will stop at nothing to kill you all!" Clench was about to followed the threat with another barrage sent up at Lord Decimus, but ordinance coming from behind them slamming into his cannon kept him from doing so.
"You are NOT Autobots, deceivers!" A lean white and black robot called out, he was in a crouched position, likely due to having just transformed, but his pistol was in hand and smoking as just having been fired. And emblazoned clearly on his abdomen was the face of the Common Man; well, it was about time the real Autobots caught up to them. Between this guy and Runabout's group were two ground racers speeding toward them, one ultra-sleek and yellow, the other blue, red and more rounded. "Sunstreaker, take the big one! Smokescreen, take…well, take another one."
The yellow one must have been Sunstreaker, because he shot toward Clench, bounced into the air, transformed and laid into the big guy. And this Sunstreaker wasn't a half bad brawler, he landed shot after shot against the big guy before Clench's strength overwhelmed him and he flung that pretty yellow shit across the street. Runabout then turned to the red and blue one, who had also transformed and was trading blows with Wildrider, and while he wasn't bad, he was nowhere near as good as his yellow friend. Wildrider was quickly getting the better of this Smokescreen, but they all started taking fire from the Decimus forces once again. Clench started toward his cannon again, but turned at the sound of a large vehicle bearing down on him.
A large, light blue emergency and rescue vehicle slammed into his mounted cannon at full speed, snapping the weapon from its mount and rendering it inoperable. Clench pushed the transforming vehicle aside and reached down into the base of his weapons mount, lifting up the container of explosives that had been intended for the Knight Decimus Amphitheater. Little chance of getting them there now, Clench was probably right to use them here and now, but before he could even get them out of the container rounds from the lean white Autobot tore through his wrists and hands, forcing him to drop the explosives.
Runabout turned to see that the big security officer, the one named Rook, was already out and slugging away at Ruckus. Ruckus was one of the toughest bastards Runabout knew, but he was put on the defensive by the bulking white and blue officer's powerful strikes. "Clench, we need to get the hell out of here!" Dead End called out. The depressing shit was right, they were already being held in check and it was only going to get worse for them.
"Yeah, I know, Autobots, retreat!" Clench roared out.
"You're not Autobots!" The white and black one yelled back, a bulky red and white robot now next to him, looking on at the field of battle. Runabout quickly transformed and sped away, past these two Autobots and down the street, away from the Decimus security forces and the Autobots. Sirens could be heard in the distance, but Runabout, Wildrider, Dead End, Ruckus and the now trailer-less Clench would have little trouble getting away from them.
"You, Sunstreaker, stay where you are!" He heard Mirage yell out in what sounded like rage, but he couldn't stick around to see how that turned out.
Glyph
What was all the commotion out there? Glyph fully ended her dormancy cycle and lifted her frame off the ground to stand fully upright in her tent. She walked outside to see a large group of robots and equipment of varying sizes and functions laid out all over the area around the dig site. Most of the robots were looking to one large individual with draconic features sauntering through the site as if he owned it. He looked into the cavern where the find remained buried, and grinning broadly as he gazed into the darkness. Six large robots of uniform lime green and purple coloration approached him and reached him before Glyph had a chance to get to him. He turned and looked at the robots. "Ah, wonderful, Lord Soundwave told me you would be coming, Lord Narkissos and Lord Masonus. I appreciate you getting here so quickly."
The six robots all bowed, and one with a wide shovel mounted on his back replied. "Lord Soundwave greatly values his friendship with House Onyx, Emir Ogrus, and feels that we will be of great service to you in this endeavor."
"What endeavor? What is going on here?" Glyph barked as she reached the group.
"Mind your tone, femme." A tall member of the green and purple group snarled at her. His arrogant sneer and superior attitude enraged her further, but not as much as his abrupt turning of his back toward her, leaving her to glare at the long crane hanging down from his upper back.
"No, that's quite alright, Lord Narkissos, Glyph of Hyperious here is to be both celebrated and given leeway." The hulking beast of a robot replied with a charm that existed nowhere outside of his voice. "After all, she is the reason we are all here." He smiled down at her, sharp fangs lining his mouth. "I am Emir Ogrus Onyx, and this land, and all on it and under it, is mine. You did not know that before, you your little demanding outburst will be forgiven, but you know it now, so I suggest you mind your tone."
A deep fear rose up in Glyph, but it did not completely supplant the anger she was feeling at what she knew was a usurping of her find. "I apologize if I've offended you, Emir Macht, but per planetary archeological guidelines, any intrusions into dig sites outside of emergency situations must be submitted to the scholarly body in charge of the dig six days in advance."
Ogrus Onyx simply maintained his stare at her for a moment before turning back to the other six robots, replying to her without even looking at her. "I'll deal with you in just a moment my dear. Hook, Scrapper, this is what I would like for your team to create." The hulking emir pulled a holo-cube out from a compartment in his side and activated it, projecting the holographic image of a vast fortress. "Fortress Trypticon, the symbol of Nyonian might, the greatest fortress of all time, constructed by the legendary Saurus Onyx who named it after his teacher and friend. I want you to turn that…" Emir Onyx pointed into the ground, "into this. Can you gentlemen do that?"
The one with the wide shovel mounted to his back leaned forward and studied the holographic image. "We'll need a full set of blueprints if you're after a complete recreation, and we'll need to verify that the structure below has a comparable mass and consists of material adequate for such a project, but assuming these things to be the case, sure, I don't see this being a problem."
"No, absolutely not!" Glyph protested, but was ignored.
"Oh, and should you find anything that seems…anatomical," Ogrus continued, "do not do anything to damage it."
"I said stop!" Glyph yelled, attracting other members of her archeological team.
"Anatomical?" The robot with a crane attached to his back asked incredulously. "What exactly is that down there?"
"I'm not entirely sure, but I do have a guess." Emir Onyx replied with a grin as Tap Out and other members of Glyph's team arrived. "Just come to me with any unusual discoveries before doing anything potentially damaging."
"What's going on here?" Tap Out asked, glaring up at the much larger robots in front of him.
Ogrus Onyx finally turned away from the green and purple robots and looked out over the archeological team. He then peered directly at Glyph. "Is this all of them?"
Glyph peered back questioningly at the hulking draconian emir. "What?"
"Yes, Emir Onyx." Glyph turned to see it was Rage who had responded to the question. She then watched as Rage turned to soldiers who were watching from a distance and nod to them, prompting them to approach and draw their weapons into their hands.
"Good." Ogrus Onyx replied. "All of them." He smiled at Glyph. "Now."
"Yes, my emir." Rage replied. Glyph heard firearms erupt all around her, and turned to see her group being cut down. She looked to Tap Out, who was charging Rage, but he charge was cut short as multiple shots sent him to the metal ground. He painfully turned his head to look up into Glyph's optics, and she could only watch in horror as the light slowly faded from them. She noticed movement near her and turned her head toward it, just in time to see Rage driving a dagger into her optic.
