Rabattus Decimus

Finally, there it was in the distance, Castle Fluctus, home of House Torrent and where he had been assured by Soundwave that Megatron would be to meet him. It was time to have a 'come to Primus' meeting with the devious, mutinous gladiator. Reports were flying in from all over the planet; groups of well-armed, well organized and well-trained thugs, all bearing the face of the Warrior, were eradicating members of high houses in every emirate, including several royal houses. There were rumors that Megatron himself had executed Militus Macht, and had his band wipe out every Macht in Polyhex. To only add to the confusion, there were reports that the Tartarun Gates had been breached, that the Wardens and their pet Guardian had fallen, and that the armies of the undead would soon be sweeping south to consume their very sparks.

Rabattus had seen and heard enough to know the rumors were true…well, the rumors regarding Megatron's underground movement rising up anyway, the talk of sparkeaters scurrying across the frozen wastes was utter nonsense. The senator from the House of Decimus was outraged at Megatron for acting behind his back, for having the audacity to act against his betters, and to use the weapons and other resources Rabattus had funneled to him through the years against anyone other than the supposed victims of the Autobots. But, truth be told, this chaos could act in Rabattus's favor. He didn't know Megatron's end game, the gladiator was a loose cannon and had to go, that much was clear, but the dismantling of several high and royal houses, the utter destabilizing of virtually every emirate on the planet…these weakened Sentinel Prime's position, and with the right manipulations, could accelerate Rabattus's designs on the Primal Throne.

But first things first. Megatron needed to go. The gladiatorial champion was targeting the high-born, Rabattus was as high-born as they came and knew he was in Megatron's cross-hairs. Perhaps not today, he still had access to resources the rebel needed, but at some point Megatron would have him killed, so Rabattus was intent on beating the lowborn shit to the punch. But even if Megatron planned on letting Rabattus live for some time longer, there was no doubt that he would be awaiting him in force at Castle Fluctus. Soundwave seemed to have sold out his social equals, perhaps Shockwave had as well, so the sanctuary of House Torrent was by no means a sanctuary for the arriving senator, and as such, precautions had been made. That idiot Red Alert had informed him that Sentinel Prime was exceptionally busy dealing with occurrences in The Torus Heights, but had agreed to forward Rabattus's coded message immediately after the senator had emphatically, and more than a little insultingly, made it clear that what he needed the Prime for was of far greater importance than dealing with the upstart shit that had just gotten himself elected Emir of some shitty polar emirate. With any luck, Prime was on his way now, which was good as Rabattus would like a few minutes to talk with Soundwave and Megatron before the Prime's arrival. If at all possible, he hoped he could convince Soundwave to abandon Megatron and continue working with him; the blue bore was far more clever and useful than he let on.

The shuttle descended through the spiraling towers of the city-sized castle, allowing Rabattus to admire the ancient and beautiful architecture up close. He had always considered Fluctusian artwork to be too subtle for his tastes, it was majestic, there was no question, but it just wasn't majestic enough compared to what he had been raised to prefer. He was accustomed to the more grandiose styles favored by the ancient members of House Decimus that had preceded him, styles that the majority of the planet considered to be overly extravagant, but the opinions of those raised in squalor and surrounded by mediocrity were of no concern to the members of House Decimus. That said, while inferior to the art favored by his house, Rabattus still enjoyed studying the Fluctusian towers and spires as he descended through them onto the landing pad in the vast central courtyard. This landing pad was large enough to hold up to 15 mid-sized craft or two troop transports. There were currently three shuttles on the ground, Rabattus's would make the fourth; still enough space to put down Prime's attack craft and a troop transport with ease. Rabattus smiled confidently as he felt the shuttle rock to a landing and he stood up to exit the craft.

In the courtyard waiting for him were Soundwave and Megatron, the latter appearing haggard and bearing what looked like new body armor and possibly some further enhancements, as well as an enormous weapon of sorts on his right forearm, one whose likeness to certain ancient legends was more than a bit unnerving. Various House Torrent servants and guards moved about the compound attending to their duties as the dark senator exited the craft. Time to exude some authority, make these two and all those milling around aware of who was in charge. "Have the two of you lost your Primus-damned minds? What the hell do you think you were doing?"

Megatron smiled. "It's good to see you too, Senator Decimus."

"Don't be blasé with me, you glorified miner! Tell me what happened at Castle Macht!" Rabattus snarled. "Tell me what happened at The Nexus! What happened at the Crystalline Palace? Ambustion Point? Word is the attacks failed at The Maximirium and Citadel Magnus, though not for lack of trying on the part of the Warrior-branded bastards killing everyone! And those are just the royal houses that I've gotten word of! There are dozens of other high houses that according to rumor, have been wiped from the face of Cybertron! Explain yourselves!" Rabattus then pointed at the cannon on Megatron's arm. "And that had better not be what I think it is!"

Megatron smugly looked down at the weapon on his arm. "This is exactly what you think it is, and as for our unfinished business, we'll complete what we started at The Maximirium and Citadel Magnus, have no fear of that." Megatron peered intently into Rabattus's optics and smiled broadly. "Our attack on the Draconyx Lair has begun, though Hun-Grr has reported that Emir Ogrus has evaded their detection thus far. Fortress Modus is being over-run as we speak, the attack on the Solarium is imminent, I've received a report that the march on Tyger Pax had begun…" the gladiator paused, "though we've received no updates." Megatron turned to Soundwave. "Have Rumble contact Lugnut for a status report. And while you're at it, instruct Shockwave to report to Simfur and track down Ogrus. We don't want to leave the emir unaccounted for." He then turned back to the aghast Rabattus. "Anyway, who's left? Oh, Castle Fluctus fell to our forces several hours ago, you're welcome to go in and pay your final respects to Lightwave, I'm sure his frame is still warm, and we're saving the Honorium for last." He smiled and peered deeply into Rabattus's optics. "Did I forget any?"

Rabattus was frozen with terror, and unable to speak, but Soundwave said the two words that were repeating through his head at that moment. "Mount Decimus."

"Ahhhh," Megatron cooed with a grin. "that's right. Mount Decimus." He turned to Soundwave. "What are our plans for Mount Decimus?"

"Intention, raze it to the ground." Soundwave replied. "Status, progressing as we speak."

"NO!" Rabattus roared, but his rage only caused Megatron to chuckle and got no visible reaction at all out of Soundwave.

"Yes, my dear Senator, yes." Megatron replied amicably. "Your physical house will be rubble, and those sharing your name will be exterminated."

"You…you…you bastard!" Rabattus hissed. "How could you? After everything I've done for you!"

"You've done nothing that wasn't intended to further your own personal agenda, Lord Decimus." Megatron sneered.

"Lord Megatron." Soundwave interrupted. "Inbound craft approaching. Nine attack craft and three troop transports. About thirty miles out."

"Hmmmm, guests." Megatron nodded, almost giddily.

"Yes, guests." Rabattus sneered with a malevolent grin etched across his fearsome face. "Guests that are going to squash your rebellion here and now! I shall enjoy watching Sentinel Prime crush your spark!"

"Do a better job of biding your time, Senator." Megatron replied with an utter lack of concern. "They're still minutes away, more than enough time for me to pull your head from your shoulders. But do not fear, I have no intention of harming you yet. I want you to see this." Megatron then turned to Soundwave. "Has Starscream returned from Vos yet?"

"Negative Megatron." Soundwave replied. "Remember, you reassigned…"

"Oh that's right." Megatron muttered and turned to Rabattus with a grin on his face while raising his wrist to his mouth. "I have a lot of balls in the air right now, it's a bit tricky keeping track of them all." The chrome gladiator turned to his wrist communicator. "Thundercracker, come in."

"Yes Lord Megatron." The voice replied through the wrist speaker. "I was expecting your call. Incoming hostiles have been detected."

"Scenario Alpha has been confirmed." Megatron stated. "Lay waste to the oncoming force with the other fliers, but the lead attack craft and at least one of the troop transports will need to arrive here intact. I don't want them to be discouraged."

"Of course Lord Megatron." Thundercracker chuckled back. "The Royals have tread on us for millions of years, the day of reckoning has finally arrived!"

"That's nice, Thundercracker, just do what I told you to do." Megatron grumbled right before switching off the channel and looking at Rabattus. "A zealous one, that Thundercracker. Been shit on by you highborn for so long, he leapt into the Decepticon cause with more enthusiasm than most."

"Exceptional flier as well." Soundwave added. "Almost the equal of Starscream."

"More than adequate for this task." Megatron muttered just as the explosive sounds of the aerial battle in the distance cut through the air. The unseen battle raged for several minutes, the smoke and flaring illumination from the explosions the only visible sign until three craft darted ahead and circled over the vast Castle Fluctus estate, two attack shuttles and one troop transport, all of which descended down into the courtyard and landed. Within seconds government forces were marching out of the shuttles and driving in vehicular mode out of the transports, transforming into armed robots as they came to within sight of Megatron and the others. Hundreds of soldiers created a semi-circle around Megatron, Soundwave and Rabattus, their weapons trained on them and ready to fire, the servants that had been milling around immediately disappeared into the castle. It was at that point that a hulking forty-foot tall form emerged from the lead attack craft, marching menacingly down the gangplank. Behind the thick transparent armor covering the front of the helmet was the face of Sentinel Prime. Megatron offered him a smile. "Sentinel Honorum, how good it is of you to save me the trouble of tracking you down."

"You are the one behind this?" Sentinel Prime's boosted voice called out from the mechanized armor suit. "The champion gladiator Megatron, pride of Polyhex, pet of Militus Macht!" The heavily armored Prime snarled as he reached the ground and continued striding toward the rebellious gladiator. "You will suffer greatly for your treachery!" Prime then turned to Soundwave. "And you, Soundwave of House Torrent, I know you've befriended this bastard! Do you stand with him in this? Are you a traitor to your House, your station, your kind?"

"I have, do now, and will continue to stand with Lord Megatron of Tarn until the day my spark ceases to glow." Soundwave replied.

"Then that day will be today!" Prime roared as he raised his right arm and a myriad of weaponry emerged from various slats in the metal, in particular one large cannon that was powering up. That cannon suddenly exploded and the right arm was pushed wide away from Soundwave.

All optics turned to the massive fusion cannon mounted on Megatron's outstretched right arm. "Decepticons, attack!" The chrome gladiator roared, as several shots from the soldiers lanced out toward him. Weapons' fire from every direction shot out at the soldiers, and Decepticons swarmed over the walls and out the doors, blasting away. Megatron had sustained a half dozen shots to his torso, but weathered them without any apparent injury, and the little discomfort he did display seemed to be more due to the attacks agitating the wounds of whatever procedure he had endured recently.

Sentinel Prime turned his attention back to Megatron and charged him, the strides of his massive suit cutting the distance in a couple seconds and he swung widely, smashing Megatron, the force sending the Tarnian back and against the ground, bouncing up and hitting the metal wall of the castle hard. "Your unbeaten streak ends right now, gladiator!"

Megatron straightened up and sneered at Prime. "In that suit you hit almost as hard as a middleweight." The enraged leader of the planet roared before charging and slamming into the rebel, driving them both through the metal wall and into the castle. Rabattus had dived low as soon as he had seen Prime's weapons emerging from his armor, and was now crawling to refuge behind a series of large, ornately arranged stones in one of the side gardens. As soon as he found some degree of protection, the giant boulders he was hiding behind were thrown into and over him by a vast explosion from the landing pad. Rabattus was dazed, he rolled his head to one side, barely getting it out of the dirt, to see soldiers and small pockets of flaming debris laying everywhere. He tried desperately to make sense of what had just happened, and finally noticed that the giant troop transport was a fiery wreck, and that nearly a dozen Cybertronians with aerial alternate modes were swooping down, raining missiles, laser rounds and other ordinance on the government troops.

Rabattus twisted his body and managed to attain a sitting position, watching these Decepticons, a group he had thought to be made up of disorganized, undisciplined brawlers, descend on the soldiers in an ordered and efficient manner, cutting down these professional soldiers with ease. There was a sound of impact to his left, but the sound was ignored; it was the small piece of metal wall smacking him in the side of his head that broke him from his stupor. He turned and saw immediately what had happened. Sentinel Prime was skidding across the ground, a slight turn of the neck more and Rabattus could see Megatron emerging through the new hole in the wall that he had just pummeled Prime through. "You're a very well trained warrior, Sentinel Honorum, Bludgeon has taught you well, as I instructed him to do, and in that suit you are stronger than me, even with my new enhancements. Though to be fair, these enhancements are more a detriment than an asset this soon after the procedure, but I'm stronger than I was, and you're stronger still. My compliments to your armorer, but your exceptional strength and durability will not be enough to offset my speed." Megatron sprinted impossibly fast at the downed leader, leaping up and coming down to drive a fist into the center of the chest armor. "Or my ferocity!" Megatron mounted his torso and battered the upper chest and helmet mercilessly, breaching it and sending pieces of shattered screen flying in various directions. "Or my superiority!" He roared just before being batted off by Prime.

Sentinel lurched back up to a standing position, but Megatron recovered even quicker and was on him again, leaping up repeatedly to deliver hammering punches to the best recreation of the mythical Apex Armor Cybertronian science could muster. Chunks of the dense metal, circuitry and sparks of electricity were send spraying away with each strike, sending the heavily protected Prime staggering back. Prime did manage to lower his shoulder and shove back against the Decepticon leader, moving him back and creating a bit of space between the two. He then shot out multiple strikes, various elaborate combinations involving fists, feet, elbows and knees, all making the most of his superior strength and reach, but apart from a tiny few strikes that the miner weathered quite well, most were avoided, blocked or parried, and Megatron was quick and skilled enough to repeatedly dart into striking range and deliver counter punches that were far more damaging than Prime had expected from him.

The hand to hand combat continued for several minutes, and soon evolved to the point where Megatron was avoiding Prime's strikes with apparent ease, while reducing the effectiveness of the armor noticeably after each exchange. Prime pushed him back, putting several yards between the two. "This blasted shit armor is more a impairment at this point, damnit!" Sentinel quickly shuffled back to increase the space between them even further. "Commence ejection from Apex Armor!" The panels on the back of the suit opened, and Prime shot out of the back of it. Whereas the now-collapsing armor suit was battered to the point of being nearly worthless, Prime appeared fresh and pristine. He snarled at the battered gladiator slowly marching toward him. "Time to end this, Megatron!"

"Oh, I agree, Sentinel, I agree." Megatron growled at the still-larger opponent as they ominously strode toward one another, but glanced over toward Soundwave watching from the side of the courtyard. "Do not miss a moment of this!"

"Of course, Lord Megatron. Both myself and Laserbeak are documenting these events fully." Soundwave replied just before Megatron and Prime engaged one another. They were perhaps the two most well trained hand-to-hand combatants on the planet, yet they unloaded on each other with unrefined brutality.

Sentinel was virtually unharmed and almost fully charged at the outset, but within moments any advantage those factors provided him seemed to fade away. After several minutes Megatron was clearly on the offensive, repeatedly battering Prime to the ground and good-naturedly allowing him back to his feet. "Come now, Lord Honorum, you are letting a lowborn, southern, common, cavern-whelped shit from Tarn get the better of you. Not just in this hand to hand bout, but my forces of laborers and other disposables have routed your highly trained professional war-force. I expected better of you. Cybertron deserves better than you." Megatron taunted right before delivering a backhand across the jawline of Prime, sending him back to the ground. "You are no Prime. You never were a Prime. Hell, a Prime is nothing more than a worthless, meaningless fop given an air of importance by some pointless bauble, and you don't even measure up to that low bar." Megatron reached down, grabbed Prime by the ankle, and whipped back, hurling the leader of Cybertron into the center of the landing pad that was laden with flaming wreckage and corpses. The Decepticons, having their battle won and with only the elimination of the wounded or surrendering government soldiers, gathered around Sentinel and the approaching Megatron, but leaving them a wide enough berth so as not to get in Megatron's way.

Rabattus felt strong hands gripping him under his arm pits, and looked up to see Soundwave's face. "Laserbeak, complete the recording, I have another matter to attend to." The blue member of House Torrent didn't bother waiting for the sentient aviaton's reply as he half-carried, half-dragged the senator over and made their way to the front of the group surrounding the two respective leaders. The other Decepticons cleared a path for him, giving him nearly the same respect they gave Megatron. Rabattus watched as Megatron stood over Prime for several moments, allowing the battered royal to take in his surroundings, and recognize the hopelessness of his situation. He looked up at Megatron, a hate-filled glare. "Do you have any idea of what will happen to you?"

"When I hovered over Militus Macht, his life in my hands, he asked me a similar question, and then he provided me with an answer to it. His answer was that you would put our movement down with little to no effort, torture me for years, and then kill me." Megatron replied with no discernable emotion. "I probably could have guessed that's what he would say even before he said it. But you, I genuinely have no idea of what you think is going to happen to me. There's nobody above you. Is Primus going to be so enraged that you were murdered by a commoner with a poly symbol etched onto his chest that he'll come down to smite me?"

Sentinel Prime's resolve was fading from his facial features. "You will be stopped. You will be punished for this." Prime painfully forced himself to his feet, Megatron made no attempt to stop him. "And that punishment, it will be unimaginably horrible for you."

Megatron pursed his lips and nodded, as if truly giving the words some consideration. "I suppose it's a chance that I will just have to take." He then glared deeply into Sentinel Prime's optics. "Your world will die with you. Your elitism will make way for those that truly are superior. And I will enjoy every second of killing you." With that Megatron rushed Prime, his silver arms and black balled fists a blur of gray as he rained down destruction on Sentinel Prime's body. Megatron mounted the downed Prime, his strikes never ceasing, until nothing remained of the planetary leader but pools of fluid and unrecognizable pieces of metal and bio-circuitry.

"Lllll," Rabattus Decimus stammered in terror, "Lord Megatron, please have mercy upon me. I swear to you my absolute allegiance."

Megatron turned his fluid-streaked face halfway toward Rabattus, peering up from his perch upon Sentinel Prime's mid-section. "Lord…" He muttered. "I always hated lords. I guess we all are destined to become that which we hate, at least in some form or another." He then twisted around more to better take in the senator, but his optic traveled off to the side, where Rabattus saw a slender predominantly blue and gray robot with a red helmet smiling at Megatron. "Doctor Rossum, Senator Rabattus Decimus hates rats and bats. See that he becomes what he hates."

"Of course, Lord Megatron." The doctor replied with a grin before turning and nodding toward the Decepticons nearest Rabattus, who grabbed him forcefully and pulled him away from Soundwave's grasp.

"No, Lord Megatron no!" Rabattus pleaded loudly as he was dragged away. "Please, don't do this, I will serve you well! Please Lord Megatron, pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaassssseeee!" His cries continued without answer as he disappeared into the castle.

Mindwipe

The agonized cries of his former fellow Warden Borebit cut through the frosty and debris-filled air, cries as the painful metamorphosis he was undergoing rearranged his body…that lucky bastard. "You promised me…" Mindwipe muttered dejectedly to the god looking over the screaming mess writhing at the base of the pile of rubble they were perched upon, "you promised me that you would do that for me, and that he would be at my mercy." The dark, winged former Warden was kneeling, lowering his head to peer vacantly into another dip in the pile of rubble that was once the outermost portion of their cavern-built bastion, but slowly re-raised his gaze to look up at the vast creature standing several feet to his right. He had to twist his neck to the point of it hurting in order to view up at the vast being's head. He knew better than to question a god, but all he had done, all he had sacrificed, was to become one of them, and his most fervent desires seemed destined to be denied. "All I did, I did to become one of you."

"You are one of us." The forty-foot giant muttered, losing the interest he had in the writhing Borebit at the base of the pile of rubble he and Mindwipe were perched upon and turning to look at the thousands of loyal minions scurrying around the debris-covered field that had once served as the lone bit of clearing in front of the now-decimated cavern holdfast of the Tartarun Gates. "Look around at my army, Mindwipe." The giant muttered out of the mouth mounted on the central face of his head; two separate, equally monstrous faces flanked it on either side. He waved out over the mass of unkempt robots, demons and monsters. "Less than a third of my followers are Sparkeaters. The others, the Mutants and the Demons, are no less a part of us, our movement."

"The mutants are slaves and a food source, and the demons are just attack dogs you've managed to bend to your will." Mindwipe muttered dejectedly.

"They are more than that, as are you." Violen Jiger replied disinterestedly as he took several steps, descending from the pile of metal and rock they had been perched upon and striding out toward another mound of former holdfast, giving no visible acknowledgment of the winged former Warden scurrying after him.

"But I wish to be like you, not like them." Mindwipe managed to gasp out as struggled to keep up with his master's long strides.

"You cannot be like me." Violen Jiger replied flatly. "I suppose no one can be like me, but you cannot be a Sparkeater. One must have the potential to become one, a spark compatibility that allows for it and the metallico surrounding it to undergo a metamorphosis. It is something that we can sense; your friend Borebit has this trait, you do not." The giant smiled as he peered ahead at what they were walking toward. "But do not envy him. I can choose to exert the power to change them to a fully sentient being losing nothing of what they were, or I can simply put forth a minimal effort to create a beast that has little thought beyond quenching its hunger for sparks…and doing whatever I or my generals want it to do. Your former brother Warden will be the latter."

Mindwipe glanced over to see a Mutant, a being that looked very similar to a standard Cybertronian, but even beyond the physical and psychological wear it seemed far rougher, more brutish, and lacking any hint of any sort of organized alternate mode. The Mutant was dragging a mortally wounded Warden toward three ravenous Sparkeaters of the mindless beast variety. The withered servant of the monsters pulled the groaning Warden into the center of the group, looked up at the snarling recipients of his gift and quickly scampered away, warily regarding the Sparkeater who snapped at him but then descended upon the helpless Warden and tore his chest apart to pull out the glowing blue spark, only to then tear into it greedily, rending its energies free and fighting with each other to suck in the escaping lifeforce. Mindwipe peered intently into their blank optics, shifting from one monster to the next, but on the third the optics turned up and locked back onto his gaze. The beast started toward him; the Mutants were not to be set upon without permission from Violen Jiger or one of his generals, and the Demons were too powerful for them to subdue, but Mindwipe and the other surface collaborators, they were an unknown. "My Lor…"

"No!" The growl emerged from the mouth of the monstrous visage on the left side of Vilen Jiger's head, in a voice that was noticeably different than the one to emerge from the front face. The creatures snarled and snapped in frustrated anger, but they turned and went back to suck any residual energy out of the corpse of the Warden.

"Will that command last?" Mindwipe asked nervously, still staring intently at the trio of creatures tearing the frame to shreds. "How do I know they won't set upon me the moment you walk away?"

"Just as they leave the Mutants alone, they will leave you alone." The massive creature replied dismissively as they approached the side of the mountain. "I have commanded it."

"But they know to leave all Mutants alone, whereas they'll be attacking my kind. Perhaps they'll fail to make the distinction between me and the rest of my kind." Mindwipe nervously muttered.

"The know the distinction, and mutants ARE your kind." The towering leader grumbled. "Sparks find their way to deposits of sentio metallico, just as they do with your species, but it takes place in the catacombs below the surface. They are robot, they have a shell mode, but there's no culture; there was none even before my kind was locked down there with them to enslave them, so they never bothered to learn to alter their shell modes into something useful. But wash them off, throw on some tires, wings or claws, and you wouldn't be able to tell them apart from most surface dwellers." He peered up ahead where six of their Demons were surrounding something, snarling at it threateningly. All ranged from fifty to ninety-six feet in height and were completely savage and bestial looking. "The Demons, however, are completely unlike you. Primordial, savage and instinctive creatures. True, they possess sparks; most green like precious few of your kind possess and a few even gold, like the Guardian's, but they bear traits both organic as well as mechanical, they lack shell modes, and while not mindless, their thought processes are quite simple. I warred with their alpha for eons, he was a powerful brute. I finally wore him down and feasted on his spark as his kind watched. That victory won their submission; well, that victory and a…kinship of sorts I share with them."

"Kinship?" Mindwipe grumbled in disbelief, gazing upon the savage creatures that in many ways seemed just giant sparkeaters with any trace of the former Cybertronians they used to be wiped away. "What kinship could you possibly shared with those…things?"

Violen Jiger stopped and turned on the vastly smaller Nyonian, glaring down at him. "So much was done to me to make me what I am. Thousands upon thousands of experiments, procedures, tests, and even tortures with no purpose beyond simply creating agony in those that would become…me. Over one hundred thousand years the former masters of this world used many as a test subject for every curious thought that entered their many faced heads. They seemed obsessed with combining things; given what they were I suppose that makes perfect sense. And one creature, the core being of what can be considered 'me', that poor brute seemed capable of surviving whatever experiments they could conceive of. They captured a warlord of the machine race, a chieftain of the Shanidar Cliffs Tribe, as well as several of his generals, and based on his great size, as well as the number of their soldiers killed in apprehending him, they assumed him to be powerful." The massive creature touched his chest protectively without realizing it. "They found a green spark within, and…pushed it to its considerable limits. They tried to make his two most loyal generals a part of him…and succeeded in a sense. Their sparks faded, but their thoughts live on in me."

Violen Jiger turned and continued on toward the demons. "The masters managed to capture some of these subterranean monsters, the Primordials is the term used by the masters, and did their best to meld their test subject with these creatures, altering CNA, performing spark altering experimentation, and even grafting internal organs and mechanisms. More changes would take place, but it was at this point that I consider myself to have been born. The emergence of what I am; a collection of tortured bodies and souls imbued with tremendous power and an insatiable lust for the energy of living mechanicals, one far greater and more insistent than with the Primordials that I had inherited the trait from. I was not what the masters were intending when they began their hideous experimentations, in truth I don't think they had any real intentions on what I would become, but when it was completed they found me repellant, a beast that should be put down, but their curiosity kept me alive, as well as the thought that perhaps, maybe, some day, they would find a purpose for me."

The pair reached the demons, Mindwipe looked up at those closest to him in terror, but they had no interest in him, too focused they were on the limbless battered Guardian laid out in the center of them. Omega Supreme still lived, but he was at their mercy. His arms gone below the shoulders, his legs gone just a few feet below his waist, his visor shattered, all weaponry shredded to scraps, he peered weakly up at his tormentors fearlessly, but with nothing more than frustrated anger to back up his courageous glare. His weak optics settled upon Mindwipe and a snarl poured out from his barely functioning mouth. "Traitor."

"No, old friend, he is loyal." Violen Jiger snickered as he stood on a jagged outcropping of rock and metal over the downed giant. "Loyal to me, his god, the god of unlife. The god of Cybertron." The forty-foot monster leapt down and landed upon the chest of the Guardian, who despite being near death, showed no sign of discomfort caused by the landing. "You aren't going to die here. I want the world to see to see you die, and the technology exists to enable that now. My subjects are on their way to claim the home of Paxus, your fellow defender of the Gates here," the beast thumbed back at Mindwipe, "informs me that they have the equipment necessary to record and broadcast your demise. It is there that I will be taking you, it is there that I will be killing you. It seems a proper violation of Paxus's sanctuary." Mindwipe watched as he leaned in closer to Omega Supreme's face. "Don't worry, I will be sure to desecrate the sacred lands of the other bastard Knights, but you seemed most impressed with the polar Knight, so it's fitting that your yellow spark dissipate where his metallico both emerged from and returned to the ground." He stood back up. "In the most agonizing ways possible, and borne witness to by the entire planet." He looked up at the demons surrounding them. "Prepare him for travel!"

Elita Solus

"Chromia, make sure that shuttle is full." Elita called out to her blue friend over the hum of activity caused by the throngs of people gathered upon the House Solus landing pad, nestled in the center of The Grove of Solitude, which itself spanned the distance between Citidel Solus and The Forge. The vast majority of Hyperion civilians were at the central airfield or at various ground transportation depots throughout the city, but House Solus had opened up their compound and provided access to their vessels and aircraft for the evacuation effort. Their attempts to keep the populace calm in the face of the news coming from the north was thus far successful; Taenarus was nearly fifteen hundred miles away after all, but the apprehension was still palpable, and the urgency to get the civilians south and the warriors north was on the forefront of every mind of not just the emirate of Axiom, but the entire planet. "It doesn't need to be packed to the point of discomfort, but we don't have enough ships to be wasting space."

"Aye, my lady." Chromia called back from the open door of the luxury craft she was overseeing the loading of. She turned her head into the craft to verify that everyone was filing in, then turned back to the line of frightened, but still calm and organized robots waiting to board. She casually gazed over them, but caught sight of someone heading through the crowd toward her friend. "Lady Elita, it appears you have company." She noted Elita's confused look and nodded off to the side in the direction of the approaching visitor.

Elita turned and caught sight of the finely tapered form of Starscream, his perfectly formed face and sleek athletic frame contrasting against the boxy, unrefined features of most of the commoners he was gracefully navigating through to get to her. But unlike every other time she'd seen the adopted royal, he was not completely pristine and polished, he even seemed to possess some light scorching and even a dent or two. But he still glistened compared to those around him. "Lord Starscream, to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"My dear Lady Elita, your beauty inspires one to continue the struggle in these dark times." Starscream called out, the rays of the brightly shining sun dancing off his painted metal.

"You flatter me Lord Nexus." Elita replied with a subdued smile. "But I fear that we are quite busy here, so I would ask that you state your business."

"Yes, I wish to cut directly to it, but I need for you to gather every member of House Solus and meet with me within the private confines of the Citadel." Starscream replied with cordial urgency. "The threat from the north is not the only threat we face."

"I have heard of the assaults on the high houses." Elita replied, returning her focus to the evacuation.

"And yet you throw open your gates to the unwashed masses." Starscream judgingly replied. "Perhaps I need to be speaking with Exponum One."

"He's in the control center organizing the launches." Elita replied.

"I'm not as familiar with the Solus estate as you seem to think I am, nor would I simply wander around uninvited." Starscream replied with a smug smile. "Perhaps you could escort me to him. You do have servants that can attend to things while you're gone, don't you?"

"Aye," Elita grumbled before nodding to the guard to her right, "this way." Moments later they were in the landing pad control room, where Exponum One was overseeing the controlling of the air traffic. "Emir One, Starscream of House Nexus is here to see you. He claims to have business with our entire house."

Starscream lowered his head slightly as he greeted the leader of Axiom. "Emir Solus…One. Sorry, the changing of one's name to reflect a title seems odd to me."

"I would not let Sentinel Prime hear that." Exponum One replied as he turned away from the control screens and fully toward his guest. "What business to you have with House Solus, Lord Starscream? I assume it's related to the attacks on the high houses. How fares House Nexus?"

"We were besieged," Starscream indicated to the various scorches and dents on his frame, "but we were fortunate to repel the attackers. Based on your decision to open your gates, I fear you may not fare as well when they come for you. And make no mistake, they will come for you."

"And you're in a position to aid us?" Exponum asked suspiciously.

"I am, though I fear it may be too late to make the necessary precautions." Starscream answered. "I ask that you assemble every member of your house in the primary Citadel ballroom."

Exponum measured Starscream for several moments before nodding and turning to Elita. "Please round everyone up and have them gather there."

"Just members of House Solus." Starscream replied. "Servants and guards of House Nexus were in the number of those attacking us; some were our most trusted subjects."

Exponum once again considered Starscream's words with hesitance, but finally nodded at Elita to make it so. A half hour later the tasks that members of House Solus had been undertaking had been transferred to trusted subordinates, and they were gathered in whole in the vast ballroom of the main level of the giant Citadel Solus. The southern and western facing walls were both transparent, the southern window-wall looking out over miles of pristine wilderness, the western view covering the Grove of Solitude, the landing field nestled within it, and just beyond the famous Forge of Solus, where according to legend the greatest of weapons and armor had been made. Of all the super-weapons carried into battle by the Knights of Cybertron, only the Cannon of Machtus was not forged there. Solus had been an unequalled genius, an engineer and smith of unparalleled inspiration, devotion and skill.

According to legend, an orphan femme born to a previously barren metallico pool in the outskirts of Hyperious had drawn the attention of those attempting to fight off a horde of spark-devouring creatures that had emerged from the badlands spanning the borders of the Tagan Heights, Nyon, Polyhex and Tyrest with her acclaimed weapon-making skills. The beasts slaughtered all they came across, but early on in their assault had specifically targeted the most respected and influential house on the planet. The few surviving members of that house were so impressed with her talent and craftsmanship that they gifted her with their house's most treasured relic, and object that legend has it they took from the treasure vaults of the multi-faced overlords that had ruled the planet with an iron fist until the members of this house led a revolt that freed them all. The sensed this relic to be a source of inspiration for them, and that one as gifted as the young Solus was could possibly achieve impossibly great things with it.

No legend depicts the item that one day would be known as the Matrix communing with Solus, but she did seem to draw inspiration from it. In time her skill as a craftsman was overshadowed by her skill as a leader. In a few short, dark years she found herself governing all of Axiom, leading her people in battle against the vile hordes of sparkeaters, and soon forming a coalition with twelve other orphans from twelve other formerly barren metallico pools in the twelve other regions that would become emirates. They became comrades, they became friends…to varying degrees, and they became the beacons of hope for the rest of the living. They became the Knights of Cybertron, and they led their forces to victory against the forces of the undead; and according to legend, did so in no small part due to the divinely inspired weapons forged by Solus in the ancient structure on the other side of the Grove of Solitude. For her friend Honorius of Iacon, she fashioned a great sword, one of the few objects capable of striking the ravenous sparkeaters dead. The same held true of the spear she gifted Paxus of the north, a weapon potent enough to injure the king of the devourers upon their final push into polar depths that would become their prison, but which unfortunately was destroyed in that final battle. For the mighty Magnus, she created the Chimera Stone, an object capable of energy and possibly power transference from one entity to another, a device that saved them all as the dying Magnus was able to transfer the last of his great strength to the few surviving knights in their final battle to defeat the king of the dead. Legend depicted Nexus as the recipient of the Cyber Caliber, a conglomeration of five separate and vastly powerful bladed weapons that could combine to form a weapon the equal of Honorus's Star Saber, but like with the Spear of Paxus was lost in the final battle. The last of the mythical objects created in the great Forge of Solus, an item Exponum had assured her was very real and housed within the Citadel's great vault, was the Apex Armor, a nearly indestructible yet exceedingly malleable protective shell that made a warrior nigh-invincible, but could only be worn by one the at least somewhat-sentient armor found to be worthy. Of course, neither the armor nor the weapons were enough to keep the Knights from sustaining terminal wounds, but they did enable a victory against a seemingly invincible foe. Though long lasting, the sanctuary offered by that victory seemed to have come to an end.

The murmurs of the ninety-seven children of Solus created a loud, indecipherable hum, but ceased as Exponum One raised his hand to silence them so that the ninety-eighth occupant of the room, Starscream, could address them and say what he had traveled so far to say. The handsome common-born royal smiled and nodded graciously in thanks to the Emir of Axiom before turning and addressing the rest of the House, casually looking over their heads from time to time to admire the view of the southern wilderness. "Lords and Ladies of House Solus, most, if not all of you have gotten word of the attacks on the high houses by what appears to be gladiators who had been a part of an underground criminal fighting circuit. I am here to confirm these as actual events, and not just rumors. Some of you have noticed some of the scorching and denting on my frame, and yes, I received these in battle when House Nexus was assaulted yesterday." Starscream said, eliciting a few gasps and whispers from the crowd of House Solus. "It is only a matter of time before House Solus experiences an attack as well."

Exponum, who was standing next to Starscream, turned to him urgently. "Lord Starscream, it pleases us all to see you safely away from the attack and in good health, but what of the rest of House Nexus? How did they fare? Was anyone hurt or killed?"

Starscream shrugged. "They were all killed. I'm all that's left of House Nexus."

"Impossible!" Exponum One gasped. "Pathos Nexus is dead?"

"I killed him myself." Starscream replied quietly to Exponum, but Elita and others in the first row were just close enough to hear as well.

Exponum took a step back, his optics wide with disbelief. "No, you couldn't have. He loved you."

Starscream shrugged as housings on the outsides of his upper arms fell away to reveal what appeared to be folded up rifles mounted to them. "So?" Starscream snapped his arms forward a bit and the rifles flipped into shape, which he aimed directly at Exponum One and fired into his upper torso, four rounds cutting into the Emir of Axiom.

"NO!" Elita and nearly every other member of her house cried out in shock, anguish and rage, but the sounds of the House alarms erupted, immediately followed by an explosion of shattering transparent metal behind them, drawing their attention away from the assault on their leader. The rounds that had shattered the floor-to-ceiling window of the southern wall impacted with the wall behind Starscream and the collapsing Exponum, exploding and sending stone and metal debris throughout the room. Elita fell to the ground with everyone else around her, but quickly managed to turn her head and peer back from whence the attack came. A white aircraft with light blue wings and two strips of lavender under the wings zipped toward them, slowed before entering the ballroom, transformed into a powerful robot and landed between them and Starscream, immediately turning and firing into the crowd of Soluses. Elita rose to her feat to charge, but heard more commotion behind her, and turned to see a black feraliton leaping at them from behind and tearing into them, followed by an aviaton swooping over them and adding to the carnage with a pair of cannons mounted to its back. "What?" She then noticed at least two score more metal attackers coming at them from the forest line, several in treaded tank modes, but most sprinting in robot mode. Four more jets swooped in and transformed, landed and continued the assault on the unarmed members of her house.

House Solus security charged into the room, but were picked off quickly by what had to have been snipers in the tree line. How could they be so well armed? How could commoners, even gladiators, be so well trained at conducting a highly organized military raid? Just as soon as these questions popped into Elita's head, she pushed them away and looked to Exponum. He was on the ground, holding his wounds, but he was moving, he was still alive. He could still be saved! She transformed to ground cruiser mode and sped toward her leader quickly, her profile low enough in vehicular mode so that no shots connected with her. She transformed back to robot mode while still moving and skidded along her side two dozen feet before stopping next to Exponum's agonized frame. She chanced a glance up at Starscream, but fortunately the bastard had worked his way toward her other kinfolk, laughing maniacally as he unloaded his smuggled rifles into them. She caught sight of her sleek blue and orange broodmate Streamline Solus attempting to charge Starscream, but the charge was cut short as his torso was shredded by an armor-penetrating missile, the damage beyond catastrophic as Streamline bore no armor. Elita watched as the blast nearly tore him in half, shards of dermal plating and internal organs flew through the rain of fluids blasting away from his obliterated frame. His optics were dark even before his remnants hit the fluid-soaked floor. "Brilliant shot, Thunderwing!" Starscream bellowed out laughingly toward the white and blue robot with lavender arms that had murdered her broodmate. The one called Thunderwing only provided sadistic laughter as a reply.

"Come, my Emir, we must get you safe and me a weapon." Elita gasped quietly but forcefully, pushing her arms under her downed elder to lift him.

"Th…th…the Armory." Exponum muttered weakly and painfully, a mist of energon and other internal fluid exiting with his words.

"Which one, my Emir?" Elita asked as she quickly raised them both to their feet and began shuffling quickly toward the door at the back of the room.

"Nnn…no, THEEEeee Arm…THE Armory." Exponum gutted out as they approached the open doorway.

"The Armory of Solus?" Elita replied skeptically. "We keep treasured relics there, no weapons."

"Thunderwing," she heard Starscream call out to the powerful flier just as she reached the doorway, "the Emir and the pretty Elita are trying to leave. Please see that they're returned. Take Kaboom's squad with you, there may be surprises deeper in the Citadel."

Elita tightened her grip on Exponum, ignoring his grunt of pain, and sprinted down the hallway. She displayed a weak smile as a half dozen security soldiers were charging toward them. They were armed; nowhere near as well armed as the invaders, but at least they may provide enough of a distraction to get Exponum safe, wherever that may be. "House Solus is under siege, defend us, save who you can, and either kill or drive out these monsters!"

"Aye, my lady." The lead guard replied as they charged past her, but he stopped and turned back and stopped before her, offering one of his side arms. "Take this my lady, just to be safe."

Elita hesitated, these guards would need every advantage they could get, but he thrust it into her one free hand and was off after his comrades before she could object in any way. Within a moment of the lead guard passing her she could hear the weapons fire of their engagement with the group of invaders that were pursuing she and Exponum. She swore she would join the battle as soon as her Emir was safe, but for now her duty was to get away from the fight. "Are you sure you want us in The Armory?"

"Yes…-cough-, yes." Exponum barked out weakly. "It's the best place for us. Trust me my dear."

Elita didn't agree, but merely nodded and headed where he had instructed her go take then, hearing the cries of her guards and gleeful cheers and laughter of their attackers cutting through the sounds of weapons' fire as she turned down a corridor, running as quickly as she could. They cut around a corner, half-sprinting, half-limping as they made their way through corridors toward the center of the vast Solarium, the ancestral home of those to emerge from the Pool of Solus. The footsteps coming from behind them were getting louder, closer, and Elita instinctively ducked and twisted back, firing as a shot zipped by overhead where her upper back had been a half-second before. Her shot penetrated the forehead of a dark orange and gray colored attacker, killing him instantly, but he falling body revealed two more attackers turning the corner behind him with an aviaton zipping around over their heads. Elita took one more shot before turning and continuing her sprint down the hallway, her target being the wing of the aviaton; she had a chance of outrunning the other two, but not the bird. Fortunately her second shot was as accurate as her first, and the metal bird spiraled down to the ground. "Leave it!" The third robot, Thunderwing, yelled out as he rounded the corner after them with four more attackers in tow. "There's nowhere safe for you to bring the Emir, bitch!"

"Leave me, Elita." Exponum gasped out, fluids sputtering out with his words.

"Not a chance, my Emir." Elita replied as she ducked around another corner, narrowly missing a shot. Up ahead were the massive double doors leading into The Armory, a sacred collection of most of Solus's surviving works. Elita considered the location to be little more than a museum; well secured, but not the most secure location on the estate, and lacking in any practical weaponry. It contained relics, fascinating, beautiful and precious, but of little use in fighting off a battalion of well-armed killers. The sounds of their pursuers' footsteps bounced off the walls as they entered the same hallway that she was sprinting through, and a round impacted the back of her left shoulder, forcing her to drop Exponum. "Ahhhhhh!" She cried out in pain as the round penetrated her shoulder dermal plating, her inner presses and workings, and blasted out the front of her shoulder plating. She spun around, staying on her feet, and leveled her gun-wielding right hand at her pursuers, unloaded on them. The white, blue and lavender Thunderwing dove to the side, avoiding the shots, but the green and black robot behind him caught a round to the abdomen, forcing him to the ground, but his thick armor appeared to weather it well enough for him to start getting back up within seconds. Of course, before he started to rise again Elita dropped her firearm and snatch Exponum's wrist. She lurched back, dragging him a third of the remaining eighty feet to the vaulted double metal doors. "Elita of House Solus requesting admittance to The Armory!" She called out desperately. "Doors to be sealed and locks engaged as soon as Exponum One and I are inside!"

"Affirmative." The feminine voice replied, a voice that Elita and Exponum both had been told was a near match for the original Solus.

The doors began opening and Elita painfully jerked the two of them through the entrance and collapsing onto the floor inside The Armory, one of the dozen rounds fired at them cutting through her outer right thigh. "Ahhh!" She rolled over Exponum One to protect him from any of the shots. "Seal the Hand-condemned door!"

"Affirmative." The response was followed by the deafening sound of the thick metal doors slamming shut immediately followed by the whirs and clicks of the locking mechanisms.

Elita painfully pulled herself off of Exponum One. "Exponum, are you alright?"

"Nnn, no my dear." The emir replied, prompting Elita to gaze intently at the wounds in his chest. They didn't appear to come from large caliber rounds, but the placement was perfect, and while the entrance holes weren't that large, it appeared as though they were designed to detonate after penetration. "I can feel my spark fading."

"No." Elita pled with a whisper, audible over the sounds of yelling from without and the pounding on the doors.

"There is a reason I had you bring us here." Exponum painfully forced the words out. "The Apex Armor."

"The Apex Armor?" Elita shook her head, utterly confused. "It hasn't worked since the war with the sparkeaters…and that's assuming its abilities were ever anything more than myth." The pounding on the doors ceased, and was quickly replaced by explosions against it as various weapons were used to try and gain access.

Exponum smiled weakly. "It is good that Ratchet, and later Orion forced you to question some of your long held assumptions, but it is important that you still have faith in certain things." He reached up and cupped her cheek gently. "The brilliance of Solus, and the effectiveness of her creations were real. You must believe that. The Apex Armor was the pinnacle of her works, it made the wearer nearly impervious to harm, it amplified the wearer's strength five-fold, it held an armory's worth of weaponry,…-cough-…but…-cough-…but it would only allow access to its protection and gifts to the most worthy of us. Only the most courageous, noble, compassionate and honest could bear the armor. It was a safeguard, one meant to keep a weapon of such power from ever being used for evil or the self-service of any individual." He broadened his smile. "I never met the mark to gain entrance to the armor, nor did any of the Axiom Emirs or Solus elders that preceded me. We all stood before it at one time or another, holding the disk reverently and hoping it would find us worthy and open for us, but it never did. You however, are different from all of us, you are worthy. You possess the traits Solus wanted those using her creations to possess. You care not for self-aggrandizement, or to intimidate or batter others for any reason other than justice or protection, or to take what is not yours. You are everything we should all strive to be. Hold the disk, submit yourself to its consideration and ask for it to accept you, and let me see the armor form and open for you. Let me finally see what I've known would happen since I first sat down with you as a protoform and got to know you."

"I…" Elita hesitated, knowing nothing would happen as she stood before an ancient relic that she'd never even laid optic on, and that the lack of whatever magic Exponum had been counting on would likely crush him. "I will try, my One."

"Oh…-cough-, yes, that must be addressed as well." Exponum muttered, but then called out as loudly and clearly as he could muster. "Computer, a transfer of power needs to be arranged."

"A prudent decision, Exponum One," the bodiless feminine voice replied, "I have detected that your spark will fail within moments. You have my condolences."

"I name Elita Solus as my successor, to be elevated to Emir of Axiom and have the title One bestowed upon her." Exponum commanded.

"No." Elita gasped, it almost coming out as a sob.

"Are there any other Solus's to object to the appointment?" Exponum asked fearfully, knowing what the answer would be.

"I regret to inform you that there are no other living Solus's." The computer voice replied. "Elita will be the One in title, and sadly, in truth."

"There will be more." Exponum smiled.

"My Emir," Elita started, but was interrupted.

"Nay, my dear, it is you that is Emir now; you that is One." Exponum gasped out.

"Exponum, I am not worthy of being One."

"Bah!" He snarled. "By any measure save experience you are my better, you will make a great One. But for now, you must make an unstoppable warrior." His optics shifted to the back of the chamber, and Elita turned to follow his gaze, knowing what she would be looking upon. "Go now, let me see it happen while I am still able."

"Nothing will happen." Elita muttered dejectedly while keeping her gaze upon the large gunmetal gray disk hanging on the wall. She had never seen it before, but the tales were familiar.

"We will see." Exponum whispered out. "Now arise, Elita One, as you were always destined to, and take what is rightfully yours."

Elita nodded, but her optics remained fixed on the ornate hanging disk that legend told could turn into invincible armor for the right individuals. She rose to her feet, not even realizing that she had stood or that she had begun taking steps, but the next thing she realized she was standing before the shield-like disk, an object larger than her chest, and was reaching out to grasp it. She was doing it without conscious thought, she didn't realize what was happening until her fingers were wrapped tightly around either side of it. She felt her spark surge, sending out energy, or power, or whatever it could be, but whatever it was, it was surging through her chest, up through her shoulders, down her arms, through her hands and into the disk. The flow of whatever energy from her into the disk caused highlights to glow spark-blue and tremendous power emanated from the disk. She turned around, stunned at what was happening and looked to Exponum for some sort of clarity. She was met by his brightly glowing optics and a near-ecstatic grin on his face.

The disk suddenly opened and waves of power washed over Elita. She felt herself rising as matter seemed to grow beneath her feet, she was engulfed by the indefinable substance, but soon it seemed as though a second skin, despite its bulk. Her vision was obscured by the whirl of substance emerging from nothing to cover her, but her vision quickly returned, as clear as before despite being behind some transparent shield, and through this shield she gazed upon Exponum, his optic now dark, but the grin still on his unmoving face. Around her periphery there were various read-outs, including one she instinctively knew to be a measure of Exponum's spark status, now flat-lining. She stared at her friend, kinsman and mentor for several moments, ignoring the pounding on the heavily dented and weakening doors. "Good-bye…father."

Without conscious thought she had once again traveled across the room, and was now standing before the besieged doors. "Elita One of House Solus ordering the opening of The Armory doors."

"Affirmative."

The doors swung open, allowing Thunderwing to come barreling in, off balance due to the sudden removal of the obstacle he had been expecting. Startled to suddenly be in the room, he looked up upon the hulking twenty-eight foot tall armored form standing before him. "What the…"

Elita was reacted instinctively, whipping a backhand to him, one she expected would push him back a few feet to provide her an opportunity for a more destructive follow-up attack, but the mere backhand sent him sailing back into the hallway, bouncing off the wall, and skipping further down the hallway. Six other attackers charged into the room, but paused, several seeming to smile, and then they stepped aside to allow a huge mechanical aurochabull a clear path at her. The horned beast mode of the invader snorted and seemed to grin at the opportunity to charge her down, completely unintimidated by her armored form or the display of strength against Thunderwing. He had undoubtedly been backed up, awaiting his turn to ram the doors, and was in a perfect position to barrel through her. He lowered his head, stamped his right forepaw, and charged.

All of Elita's training told her that in a situation like this, against an opponent such as this, and evasive move would be best, but she disregarded her training, braced herself, and delivered a straight right punch between the two horns of the beast, her fist battering through his skull, smashing his brain module between the knuckles on her gauntlet, and driving it forward until it battered through his spark chamber. The damage was immediately fatal, the attacker's death was final before he knew contact had been made. Upon recovering from the surprise of her unbelievable strength and destructive capability, Elita swore to herself that this would be the most merciful death she would be delivering today.

A purple and red slender robot looked at the mangled mechanical form the armored warrior was pulling its fist out of. "Concuss? Damn." He looked up at the helmet just as Elita raised her right arm to him and several cannon's emerged from the forearm. "No, wait!" His final words echoed through the hallway, along with the sounds of the rounds that cut him to pieces. Elita engaged the others, and looked down the hallway at the one called Thunderwing, who seemed to be studying her appraisingly before rising back to his feet and running back in the direction of the main ballroom to join the rest of his vile comrades. Elita made short work of those in The Armory before following after him.

Roller Pax

"Computer, how long before the sparkeaters arrive?" Roller called out as he continued studying the screen in front of him, one of several in the vast control room that Olnius had walked him through just the day before.

"Based on their current rate of progress, twenty-four minutes, twelve seconds." The bodiless feminine voice replied.

Roller nodded absently, but was aware enough to recognize the pointlessness of thanking a lifeless computer and therefore refrained from doing so. He continued scrutinizing the screen, one that laid out the coordinates of where a missing ship of House Pax had stopped and the duration of each stop, and the designations for those coordinates by the most recent pilot, Alpha Trion. "Computer, what does the designation CCJ1 represent in relation to extra-cyber coordinates?"

"Cybertron Colony Junk is the most probable meaning." The voice returned.

"That's where he stopped first." Roller muttered to himself. "Probably where he dumped Orion." He continued studying the other coordinates listed. "Computer, in the same context, what is H3?"

"There is nothing in my records or the records of the accessible planetary government that is a likely match for H3, in that context of extra-cyber locations." The lifeless voice answered.

Roller pursed his lips and nodded. "I suppose that makes sense. Computer, same context, what is CCE1?"

"There is nothing in my records related to that location. Upon attempting to scan the data files provided by the planetary government, I have reached a classification restriction." The feminine voice explained.

"Classified?" Roller muttered in surprise, but the surprise on his face faded immediately. "Guess that also makes sense. Computer, the CC prefix indicates a Cybertronian colony, correct?"

"In this context, yes." The computer replied.

Roller stood up and began pacing. "Slag it, what am I even doing? I can't retrieve them, Prime will have them killed the moment word of their return gets out."

"Emir Pax, there is another incoming transmission from Lord Olnius Pax." The computerized voice announced.

"Ughn, again? Fine!" Roller marched back to the console and opened a channel with the flip of a switch. "Yeah, I know, I'm leaving now!"

"You should have left some time ago," Olnius grumbled, "but that's not why I'm contacting you. I mean, yes, you need to leave now, it's insane that you're still th…"

"What's the purpose of your call, Olnius?" The exasperated Roller interrupted.

"Sit down lad." Olnius tried to prepare the youth.

"Out with it!" Roller snapped.

"Sentinel Prime is dead." The announcement froze Roller to the spot, his hands braced on the top of the console he was leaning over silently. "Did you hear me Emir Pax?"

"Aye." Roller sputtered out. "Are you certain?"

"It's possible that the news and the footage that accompanied it are false, but it appears genuine." Olnius explained. "And in light of the extermination of the High Houses…"

"What?" Roller once again interrupted. "What are you talking about?"

"Initially it was thought to be the work of the Autobots, but it seems there's a new group responsible. A group made up of gladiators in the underground fighting circuit, ones bearing the face of the Warrior of the religion of The Hand." The former emir explained.

"The face of…" Roller gasped, "Olnius, Lugnut of House Boltax bears such an emblem, and arrived here in force moments after Sentinel Prime's forces arrived. He claimed it was to aid us; in light of what's happening,"

"He was there to attack us…" Olnius finished.

"Lugnut is not to be trusted! Shit, Orion was right…again." Roller grumbled.

"Orion? When…"

"Never mind." Roller cut him off. "Or rather, save your question for Orion. With Prime dead, my course of action is clear."

"What?" Olnius all but yelled. "Roller Pax, I realize that you may be the new emir, but you must…"

"Sorry Olnius, gotta go!" Roller switched off the communications channel. "Computer, prepare the Stellar Spear for launch. Destination, Cybertron Colony Junk."

Prowl

Prowl hustled through the corridor, the distance he needed to cover wasn't quite enough to justify a transformation, but it was a tempting option if for no other reason than the confusion of a rapid transformation and drive off would shut Cliffjumper up. "Seriously Prowl, how is this not good news?"

Prowl turned and eyed the short red Autobot as if he'd lost his mind. "What?"

"No, not the Tartarun Gates, I'm talking about these gladiators, these…Decepticons!" Cliffjumper clarified. "Even High Magistrate Gnofin has to admit we're innocent of the terrorist acts now."

"Ekim Gnofin's dismissing of fourteen years' worth of exculpatory evidence isn't going to be wiped away by the Decepticon's attacks on the High Houses." Prowl replied flippantly as they turned the corner and started down a far busier hallway. "Though, if Prime truly is dead, the good Magistrate's primary reason for railroading us is gone."

"Yeah, can't believe the bastard is dea…" Cliffjumper noted a slight wince out of Prowl, "yeah, look, I hated him and all, but I know you two were once friends, so…my condolences."

"We don't have time for that right now." Prowl muttered, but his attention sharpened at seeing Senator Xaaron at the far end of the hall. "Xaaron!"

The senator turned and started walking toward him. "Prowl."

"I assume since you're here in person that the news is true." Prowl didn't ask.

Xaaron nodded. "I'm afraid so. All our experts claim that there's no reason that they can see to doubt the authenticity of the footage sent by these…Decepticons is it?"

"That's what I've heard." Prowl replied. "I've known of their existence, who many of their members were, who much of their leadership was, it's finally nice to have a name to place to their group."

"And a face." Cliffjumper muttered. "Totally stole the idea of taking a Hand societal aspect face from us."

"You're certainly welcome here, my friend." Prowl said to Xaaron as he placed a hand on his shoulder, busy Autobots pushing past them on either side. "You likely revealed yourself as a supporter by coming here, but I believe that members of the Senate may be targeted as well as the nobility, so it's good you're here."

"I doubt the Decepticons would think to look for me in Petrex." Xaaron replied sadly. "And an official member of the government being here might be explained away; your secret safe house is no longer much of a secret, nor is it safe anymore."

"Not my decision." Prowl grumbled in agitation.

"No, it was ours." Jazz called out as he, Blaster, Wheeljack and Metalhawk marched toward them from the direction Prowl had originally been headed. "Some things transcend our cause; what's happening in the north is one such thing."

"The planetary government can organize resistance, evacuation and whatever else is needed." Prowl snapped.

"We claim to represent the people." Blaster replied. "To champion both their rights and their safety. It's time to dedicate more than just words to that. Our decision to reveal our position and make our resources available to aid those who need it was a difficult one, but it was the right one." A commotion from a side hallway drew their attention, and they looked as the crowd of bustling Autobots in that hallway all turned to look at something, and then made way as it approached them. "What's this?"

Mirage of House Decimus cut through the last of the crowd and entered the hallway that they were in, stopping as he caught sight of the Autobot leadership. "What the hell is he doing here?" Cliffjumper snarled.

"He's…he's not our enemy." Prowl replied as he approached Mirage. "He's been helping us for years, anonymously, and in a limited capacity." The white and black former second to Sentinel Prime stopped in front of Mirage. "But Cliffjumper's right, you shouldn't be here."

Mirage was a sight, scuffed, slightly battered and scorched, and nervous to the point of being frantic. "You need to come! NOW! My House has been attacked! There may be survivors, I got away, maybe others managed to hide!"

Prowl nodded. "Yes, we'd heard the gladiator group had been targeting the high houses. I'm sorry my friend, but we aren't in a position to help."

"No!" Mirage snarled. "I'm not your friend, Prowl!" He then turned to the other Autobots. "You four know me, you know I've been advocating for you, arguing the evidence of your innocence! You want to prove you've been innocent all along? Defend a High House! Defend House Decimus!"

"Sirs!" Bumblebee charged out into the hallway from the command room at the end of the hall. "There's a personal shuttle landing in the street outside, it looks to be from House Torrent, and there's a government troop transport holding position just outside the city!"

Prowl looked to the others and shook his head in a scolding manner. "You idiots should have listened to me!" With that he drew a large pistol and headed in the direction that Mirage had emerged from. Moments later he and other Autobots were streaming out of the building and witnessed Megatron, Soundwave and others descending the plank onto metal ground. Prowl shook his head, he had been expecting government soldiers, not the Decepticons. "Oh shit."

Megatron caught sight of the Autobots and smiled, holding his hands up in a non-threatening display. "Relax, Prowl," he caught site of Mirage exit and pushed past Prowl, who turned and noted the royal just in time to wrap his arms around Mirage before the blue and white royal saw the purple symbol of the Decepticons on Megatron's chest and lunged in his direction.

"Bastard!" Mirage roared, nearly pulling free of Prowl's grasp.

"I want him dead too, but…" he nodded toward the other Decepticons emerging from the craft, all heavily armed, "they've got bigger guns than we do."

"You shouldn't want me dead, Prowl." Megatron stated as he casually made his way toward them. "I certainly don't want you dead. I don't agree with many of your Autobot philosophies, but your decision to put aside your own personal best interests to help others in the wake of the news in the north is nothing short of inspiring. At least, it's inspired me." Megatron smiled. "I've put my destruction of the high houses on hold for now. It may take time for that order to trickle to some of my soldiers, but for the greater good I will stay my hand against the living and lead our combined forces to counter the monsters crawling out of the polar depths."

Prowl stared intently and disbelievingly at the hulking gladiator, stunned almost to the point of releasing the still struggling Mirage. "Did…did you just say LEAD our combined forces?" He released Mirage as other large Autobots stepped in to keep the surviving member of House Decimus from attacking the Decepticons and starting a fight they had no chance of winning.

"Yes." Megatron replied. "Decepticons, Autobots, government forces and what's left of the high houses' personal guard." The chrome warrior beamed a broad grin. "I think I've more than demonstrated my strategic acuity and leadership skills."

"You've displayed nothing but a penchant for mass murder!" Jazz snarled, but directed his attention toward Prowl as the former Security Chief raised his hand to stop him.

Prowl, his hand in the air to silence the opposition of his fellow Autobots, continued his stare into Megatron's optics. "We could definitely use your help, your forces and your input, but we will not be propping you up as our new leader, certainly not after all the murder and mayhem you've done in our name over the last decade and a half. And I know for sure that the powers that be certainly won't bend the knee to you."

"My dear Prowl," Megatron responded almost sweetly, "I AM the power that be." He looked to the Autobots behind Prowl, Jazz and the others, all gripping their weapons tightly and just waiting for the moment to engage the intruding gladiators. "But for the good of the planet, I am willing to compromise. We all bring something to the cause, and any in-fighting between us will only significantly weaken that cause."

Prowl nervously looked Megatron over. He couldn't be trusted, that much was certain, but if he wanted to wipe them out, based on the reports of this group Prowl was certain he could do so without the need for subterfuge. "For now, we need each other. Come in, but just you and Soundwave."

Mirage gasped at Prowl's offer of admittance, but then turned at the sound of Soundwave's name and glared at the other royal. "Traitor!" He hissed as Megatron marched by and into the facility with his blue confidant.

Rattrap

"Their defenses and weaponry are primitive to say the least." The big dumbass known as Nightbeat muttered from his swiveling captain's seat in the ship. Rattrap still technically had the drop on him, and could probably take control of this ship, but it could just as easily go the other way and have things wind up with him in this blue and yellow tin-head's brig…which was probably nothing more than a storage closet with a pad-lock. Something he could undoubtedly break out of with relative ease, but not worth chancing at this point, especially as he seemed to be far less of a threat than most of the recent off-worlders were. "We should just go in and break him out."

"Ya' don't get how things work here, doya?" Rattrap muttered in an intentionally disrespectful way. "The Convoys wanted us to go unnoticed by the humans. Granted, two of them died before da' humans became the humans we know today, and da' third, well, he let a bunch of them inhabit the island, even build a civilization…uhm…so, yeah, disregard what I just said. But Polarclaw, our boss now, he wants us to go unnoticed. Totally ripple free."

"So you're suggesting that the humans that are currently in possession of a Cybertronian prisoner…don't know we exist and we're to keep it that way?" The sarcastic jackass replied with a smile.

"Ehhh, I see where yer goin' with this, but like with Cybertron, the governments here don't tell the people diddly squat." The buck-toothed robot shrugged. "And we're good with that. And as we wanna keep the public ignorant, we're gonna be discreet."

Nightbeat shrugged. "I guess we can try to do that. But I need to know the players. What's going on here, who were those Cybertronians you were fighting, and how significant is the threat posed by these hairless apes?"

Rattrap sighed. "The Cybertronians are just the latest batch of colonists to come here laying claim ta' the Manifest, the Ferrotaxis, the resources of this planet, or whatever else they want here. This group is from Eukaris, as was the group from da' first Beast Wars. They tend ta' be more organic animal based with their alternate modes, as you saw with the three scumbags that were attacking me."

The blue and yellow homeworlder looked Rattrap over intently. "So the Manifest truly is on this world then?"

"Nice try, diphead, but I ain't sayin' squat about the Manifest or any of dat other stuff!" Rattrap grumbled, a bit angry at himself over the slip.

"Fine, then tell me of these Beast Wars." Nightbeat asked as he gently swiveled back and forth a bit in the pilot chair.

Rattrap considered the request, wondering whether revealing this information would be any sort of violation to his fellow Maximals or provide this clown any sort of advantage over them. He shrugged as he failed to see any reason not the divulge the history. "We've been here a very long time, and for the most part it was very uneventful, but about two-hundred forty thousand years ago a criminal from Eukaris named Cryotek commandeered a prisoner transfer ship on his world, getting a crew of scumbags, and then hijacked one of the few faster than light space craft they had. He'd somehow come across information about Earth, or Helio-3, as well as other barely known Cybertronian colonies, and came here seeking safe haven for his crew of scumbags. We noted their arrival, we spied on them for a few months, and through no fault of mine, they discovered us as well. They swore up and down they just wanted to be left in peace, their only interest in the planet was that they thought it was uninhabited, and figured they could live their lives. Da' Convoys never trusted Cryotek or his group of Predacons…"

"Predacons?" Nightbeat interrupted.

"Yeah, da' Convoys explained how Nyonian legends talked of ancient animal-warriors named Predacons, and that these guys named themselves offa them." Rattrap explained.

"Yes, I'm familiar with the legends, but very few other are, at least not anymore." Nightbeat replied. "Even in Nyon the Predacon legends have faded from memory."

"Yeah, well, most of the bots and protoforms Guardian Prime chose to stick on the colony worlds were from Nyon;" Rattrap answered, "figured their natural inclination toward animal shell-modes would help them blend in and adapt to the organic worlds. Anyway, Big Convoy, Lio Convoy, Rhinox, Polar Claw and the other Maximal muckity mucks didn't trust 'em, but didn't have grounds to attack 'em and they definitely didn't want to alert anyone…even if we could alert anyone. So we left them be and they left us be…more or less. At least they did for a few decades, until Cryotek found out about…stuff on this world, stuff he hoped to either use to make him more powerful or sell to make him rich. So, the first Beast Wars started. It lasted a few centuries, and ended as Cryotek and his main piece of muscle, a big-ass goon simply named X, fell into a magma pit in a volcano and were assumed dead. We rounded up the survivors, placed 'em in stasis, and that was that for over a thousand years."

Rattrap sighed deeply. "Then came Magmatron. He was a Eukarian warlord, governor, king, chief, whatever, but he was big, and powerful, and smart and unrelenting. He was an accomplished general on Cybertron prior to coming to Eukaris, Big Convoy had known him. BC told us Mags was originally from Polyhex, but due to his shell form lending itself to an animalistic shape he left for Nyon and came into the service of the Onyx's or something. He and Big, they had one of those respectful hatreds for one another. Anyway, when Magmatron came…the first time, he wasn't looking for trouble. His only interest in this planet was that it was an unlikely, but possible destination for Cryotek and the other wanted criminals that he had escaped here with. Big handed over the surviving Preds, and Magmatron left. We hoped that would be the end of it; it wasn't. One of the Preds we handed over was this nitwit named Waspinator. Poor dumb sumbitch musta spent more time in the repair bay during the Beast Wars than out. Anyway, dumb as he was, he apparently not only found a way to escape the pen, but even found a way off of Eukaris. Made his way to another colony, one called Beest." The small Maximal peered down at the ground, an uninvited and unexpected wave of overwhelming sadness filling him. "He came to the attention of another warlord, some king of Beest. Don't know what his original name was, but he must have been able to receive news from Cybertron because he was well aware of Galvatron having been missing for well over seven hundred thousand years at that point and figured like everyone else he was dead, so this king laid claim to the name. So that jackass Waspinator fills in this new Galvatron about…whatever was here that Cryotek had wanted, and Galvatron musters a small but potent force of armed killers to take it, and the Second Beast Wars started." Rattrap shook his head. "By the Hand he was powerful, just so powerful, and every bit as crazy and cruel. We fought that war for over forty thousand years. I used to think how ridiculous it was as a youth when I read about the wars against Deathsaurus and the war against Galvatron each taking hundreds of thousands of years. That second Beast War though, just a few hundred warriors involved, stretching for four hundred centuries…it was unimaginable. We won, but we lost Lio Convoy. He died to defeat this Galvatron, but…well, we won."

Rattrap stood up out of his oversized seat, casually allowing his weapon to hang loosely at his side, no longer bothering to keep it on the large blue and yellow robot. "So, forty thousand years of war was followed by forty thousand years of peace, but around a hundred and fifty thousand years ago ol' Magmatron came knocking again, and this time it was all about conquest. Ya' see, he'd finally gotten around to tracking Waspinator to Beest. He met resistance there, or maybe he didn't, hell, I don't know, but he eventually was able to rifle through pretend-Galvatron's stuff and figure out what Waspinator had told him. Ya' see, Mags accepted the story of Cryotek and crew setting up here to escape at face value…probably because itinitially it was true. He accepted Big Convoy's reason for being here at face value as well."

"What did Big Convoy tell him his reason for being here was?" Nightbeat asked. "For that matter, what is the real reason you're here?"

"Easy buckaroo, need to know your reason for being here before I tell you ours." Rattrap snapped back. "Back to the story, when Mags first visited, BC told him he, LC and us Maximals came here to get away from hatred and plots against House Convoy on Cybertron."

"Hatred and plots?" Nightbeat asked skeptically. "House Convoy was as respected as any of the Royal Houses."

"You're an idiot." Rattrap grumbled, his grip on the gun reasserted. "You claim to be a detective, but clearly you're not one to think things through."

"Then explain what I'm missing."

Rattrap sneered. "I don't have time to go into all of it with you, but think about it, Mr. Detective-Man, Deathsaurus traveled with an army from Simfur along the border of Tyrest for thousands of miles. Do you really think the Ambus's didn't take notice? Or the Magnus's when that army breached the borders of Tyrest and the Tagan Heights? Yeah, the Onyx army moved fast, but not that fast. Finger-One wasn't lifted until it was all over. Explain that, smart guy!"

Nightbeat nodded. "Yes, I have pondered the terrible reaction time in aiding House Convoy. But I always attributed some of that to the sheer ancientness of the event. That was over twelve million years ago. I assumed that the tales have changed and many of the details lost over such a span of time."

"Big Convoy and Lio Convoy were alive when it happened, and while they were away from Convoy lands at the time, they knew all the gory details of what happened, and their tales never changed!" Rattrap snapped. "I was born millions of years after that, shortly before we launched for this mudhole, and I don't give two shits about high houses or nobles or royals or whatever, but I knew those two and I respected the hell out of them, not because their name was Convoy, but because they were worth respecting. And Primal…" Rattrap turned away, once again overwhelmed with sadness.

"Primal?"

"We'll get to him." Rattrap snarled. "Anyway, while not as old as the Convoys, Magmatron was old enough to know concerns of the last two Convoys being targeted by high houses was not so outlandish. He knew royals think they're gods among us, and that they get pissed when a house not founded by a Knight is spoken of with as much or sometimes more reverence than theirs. Which is why he left us alone the first time. But this time he knew what was here…"

"The Manifest."

"Sure, the Manifest." Rattrap replied as if there was another reason. "Anyway, knowing what was here, he felt it his duty to continue where Guardian Prime had left off; i.e., conquer the whole Primus-damned universe and plant Cybertronian flags on every planet worth setting foot on." Rattrap continued. "So he came to Helios-3 and thus began the Neo War." The Maximal let himself get lost in his thoughts for a few moments before going on. "This one lasted for twenty-five thousand years, and when it was over, both Big Convoy and Magmatron were among the dead, having killed each other in the final battle."

"So House Convoy…" Nightbeat muttered, an odd sadness coming over him as well.

"Yes, but not that day." Rattrap replied quietly. "Not sure how good your history is, but it's a little known fact that Deathsaurus attacked the House Convoy lands during a birthquake. A spark came to the Convoy metallico pool, a protoform was born, and it was immediately placed into stasis and spirited away from the Convoy lands. Its existence was kept secret, Big Convoy and Lio Convoy would not take the chance of it being targeted by those that may want to see their House wiped from Cybertron. For twenty five thousand years we remained here without a Convoy, Rhinox and Polar Claw sharing leadership, but around one hundred thousand years ago Polar Claw removed the protoform from stasis."

"Primal Convoy?"

"Aye." Rattrap muttered. "I really didn't get to know him for a very long time; we were spread throughout the planet monitoring for any new threat of incursion from Cybertron or its colonies and frankly, I had no desire to meet this thing with a Convoy name and a Convoy helm but lacking a Convoy upbringing. He'd never measure up to BC or LC, and would only water down my memories of them." A wan smile cut through the gloom of Rattrap's face. "Except he did measure up. You see, we never did recover the body of pretend-Galvatron, nor that of Cryotek. The reason we never found Cryotek's corpse was that he hadn't died. He had managed to drag himself out of the magma pool, and lay in stasis for over two hundred thousand years, slowly healing. When he awoke again he laid low for thousands of years, somehow finding the body of pretend-Galvatron and cannibalizing every ounce of scrap and tech that frame possessed, and came back more powerful than before. He didn't have the physical power of either Galvatron or Magmatron, both of whom likely had green sparks, but he was smarter than they were, and managed to free the surviving prisoners we were holding in stasis, lead them against us, and actually gained access to the Manifest and possession of…something else. Primal rose to the occasion, this final Beast War whittled our numbers down to near nothing, and there were some incidents that changed some of the geologic features of this planet, but he won. He had to sink the island to stop Cryotek and…what Cryotek had set in motion, but he did it, sacrificing himself and killing Cryotek in the process." Rattrap's optics darted to the ground. "Shit, I think I may have told you more than I was supposed to tell you."

"Don't worry, I don't think there's anything you told me that can be used against you." Nightbeat said, but his attention was turned back to the control panel by a flashing light. He turned and flipped a switch, staring at the screen, a look of confusion coming over him. "Prowl?" He whispered.

"What?" Rattrap asked, not having heard what he whispered.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Just an all-points bulletin from someone no longer in a position to send an all-points bulletin. The blue and yellow robot punched in the acceptance code to receive the notification in text form, and would up re-reading the message several times, unable to process what it said.

"What, what's the message?" Rattrap pressed after patiently waiting for over a minute.

Nightbeat rotated back around in his seat so that he faced the small Maximal, but his optics were off to the side, thinking deeply as he pondered what he just read. "Sentinel Prime…he's been killed."

"Wow, that's kinda big." Rattrap stated.

"Huh?" Still distracted, Nightbeat finally looked at Rattrap. "Oh, Prime dying, yeah, I guess that is big."

Rattrap was confused by the homeworlder's reaction. "Was there more to the message?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Nightbeat answered, lost in his own thoughts. "The Tartarun Gates have fallen. Sparkeaters walk the surface of Cybertron once again."

Red Alert

The Capital Spire's main control center was always a flurry of activity, but never more so than right now. Prime's death, the attacks on the high houses, the emergence of this new underground group responsible for both of these things, and the apparently unrelated news that the Tartarun Gates had fallen and Sparkeaters had returned had caused complete chaos in the planetary capital. Red Alert found himself in the unenviable position of trying to keep it all together, attempting an organized evacuation of civilians from Cybertropolis while gathering the military and peace-keeping forces and preparing them to ward off anything coming out of The Torus Heights. Fortunately Sentinel Prime had already made certain preparations in regards to possible threats coming from the polar emirate, but none of those anticipated threats involved super-cybertronian mythical cybervores. Even now Red Alert was beyond skeptical of the reports, but with the exception of their new emir, House Pax has evacuated Tyger Pax and Emir Roller Pax and Lord Commander Kup had convinced Sentinel Prime of the news that the Gates had been breached.

Of course, at the moment he was focused primarily on the details regarding the evacuation of House Honorum from Iacon. They had been under attack up until two hours ago, when these Decepticons seemed to suddenly stop and withdraw and disappear. Many of the Honorums were killed, but many more seemed to have survived the onslaught and were being collected now by government forces. Being in Cybertropolis, Red Alert was way too far away to be involved in the search and rescue efforts going on in Iacon, but he was still in constant communication with his Iaconian counterparts. "Have you found Emir Acumenus yet?"

"No word yet sir," a nervous voice came back through the speaker on the control panel, "but no call to lose hope yet, the guards are finding survivors all the time." There was a long pause. "Red Alert, there's a commotion, wait, yet, it's the Emir, he appears unhurt. Hold and I'll find out what I can."

"Aye, Rollout, I'll be here." Red Alert replied with an affirmation common in the northern parts of the planet.

Several moments passed before Rollout came back. "Well sir, seems the good Emir had gone down to one of the lower vaults to retrieve something when word of the Tartarun Gates collapse came in, and was there when these Warrior-branded bastards attacked. He rode out the attack there. He's carrying some large case with him, I'm guessing it's whatever he went down there to find in the first place, and he's not letting anyone come near it, whatever it is."

"Fine, fine," Red Alert muttered, "just see that he gets on the transport and that it's away shortly. Iacon is barely a thousand miles from Taenarus, The Emir of Nova Cronum should have been away to safety hours ago."

"Uh, yeah, you did know we were under attac…"

"Got it, just get he and the other Honorum survivors to safety now." The white and red robot grumbled into the speaker. "Cybertropolis out."

"Sir, we have an incoming craft." Hopper, the green robot manning one of the sensor arrays on the far side of the room, called out. "Scans identify it as a Class 5 small freight hauler, the serial number given lists it as a craft owned by a rental agency based out of Simfur."

"Simfur?" Red Alert questioned as he quickly crossed the room and leaned over the screen to scrutinize the data scrolling across it. "Why didn't we receive word from the southern checkpoints?"

"It's based out of Simfur, but it's coming to us from The Torus Heights." Hopper replied, but turned his head up in a questioning way. "What the hell is a Nyonian freighter doing coming out of The Heights? Especially an old, low-end rental that's undoubtedly marketed toward commoners?"

Red Alert let out a quiet, humorless chuckle before replying. "Prime searched for years for evidence Roller Pax was smuggling weapons and supplies into The Torus Heights, and Prime is killed right before some of Pax's smugglers land in our lap."

"They're hailing us sir." Hopper announced as a signal on the control board lit.

Red Alert reached forward and opened the channel. "Guardian Spaceport Control Center, identify yourself."

"Name's Shokaract, from Nyon but came to visit a friend in Polarus." The harsh, gravelly voice came through.

"Did you make it to Polarus?" Red Alert asked.

"Yep, was there when we got word the Gates had fallen." This Shokaract replied. "Considered it bullshit and kept imbibing at the pub, laughing at the cowards as they took off and abandoned the bar, then the whole damn city. Heard the Pax's ditched Tyger Pax too, but still weren't buyin' that the spark-suckers were back. Hell, didn't think they ever existed truth be told." There was a long pause. "Know they exist now."

"You've seen them?" Red Alert excited asked.

"Yeah, when we finally got bored of ingesting free, abandoned engex, we made our way to this friggin' pile of crap and were going to head out." The incoming visitor explained. "As we lifted over the city, we saw a long line of…something, making its way toward Tyger Pax from the north. We flew toward it, realized it was some sort of army, then as we got closer we realized that while most seemed to have two arms, two legs, a body and a head, they definitely weren't like us. They were the monsters of our fairy tales."

"They're traveling on foot?" Red Alert asked, but turned to Hopper and whispering prior to getting an answer. "That gives us a bit more time."

"Yeah, they're walking. They seemed so lurchy and awkward, not sure they have alternate modes." Shokaract replied. "But in the robot modes they seem faster and stronger than most of us. Not sure what else you want to know."

"I want to know it all!" Red Alert snapped before again turning to Hopper. "Direct him to land in front of the Control Center. I want to talk to this Shokaract." With that Red Alert turned and made his way to the lift. Within minutes he was on the ground level walking toward the main doors that exited to the various landing pads, and within visual range he saw a beat-up looking old craft lowering to the ground. They were landing about a quarter mile from the doors, about as close to the building as a craft could safely land. It was predominantly orange, with bestial graffiti all over it, something to be expected from a low-end Nyonian rental, and looked to hold thirty normal-sized passengers comfortably; or a little over a dozen weapons crates should that have been the cargo, which given these guys were likely smugglers for Roller Pax, was what was transported to the polar emirate. Red Alert exited the building as the landing ramp of the craft touched the ground and a large, hideous black, yellow and dark blue robot with numerous bestial limbs jutting out of its back marched down and took several steps away from the ramp.

Red Alert stopped and stared at the supposed-smuggler; something wasn't right. His body was gyrating slightly, as if he were laughing, which was difficult to tell as the mouth of this Nyonian was non-standard to say the least. Shokaract stopped chuckling and leveled a gaze at Red Alert that left the security chief completely unnerved, announcing in a loud voice apparently to anyone close enough to hear. "Cybertropolis, I bring you a gift, the gift of Violen Jigr's embrace!" From behind Shokaract emerged forms even more hideous and ungainly than his, being straight out of Red Alert's nightmares. They charged out in all directions, causing panic to the dozens all around them. Red Alert froze for a moment, but only a moment, then turned and charged back into the building, transforming as he cleared the doors and sped down. He instinctively knew he had little chance of escaping this swarm of monsters, but it was his duty to get the word out that Cybertropolis was under attack.

Wreck Gar

"Whatya be seein'?" After fourteen years with Orion Pax living on Junk, Wreck Gar had resorted to speaking proper Common-Era Cybertronian almost entirely. For millions of years the Pidgeon dialect of Junk had been a source of pride for the Junkions, a differentiation from the homeworlders and a reminder of them shrugging off the shackles of colonial occupation. Orion Pax had respected their ways from the moment he arrived, and had even adopted a few of their customs, but while he never looked down those using it, and had always understood and replied to the Junkion way of speaking, he had always spoken proper Cybertronian, and in so doing had influenced many a Junkion to do the same, the Gar included. But sometimes Wreck Gar used the Pidgeon when around the other citizens.

The two soldiers turned and looked upon Wreck Gar and their comrade who they had sent to summon their leader. The three had been out on patrol, the war was over, but there were still soldiers that had fought for Detritus that were still unaccounted for, likely no longer loyal to the dead would-be usurper's cause, just fearful there would be those seeking retribution should they reveal themselves, but still potentially dangerous. Armed three-soldier patrols had been sent out in possession of writs of absolution signed by Wreck Gar, guaranteeing those that revealed themselves and turned in their arms safety from any retribution stemming from their actions during the war. Only Arclight, the last surviving general of Detritus's, would be held accountable.

When one of these three-man teams returned in great haste seeking Wreck Gar, the leader of Junk fears that this team had come upon some of the former insurrectionists and violence had ensued. Instead it was an echo of the past, the relating of an observation reported to him over fourteen years before that had led to so many changes on his world. He instructed Pinion to alert any generals and Lo-Gars in the capital and set off, only a slight nagging in his head wishing that he had not instructed Pinion to spread the word.

Of course, he had to give that order. The scout had come back and reported a flash in the distant night sky, something that seemed to be a rupture in space. Fourteen years ago that flash turned out to be a wormhole forming just outside Junk's orbit, and within a few hours a ship had landed and two visitors from the homeworld had gotten off; one conscious and the other unconscious. Wreck Gar was certain that this time, like with fourteen years ago, it was another wormhole, and what forces he had left had to be on alert in case it was an attack from the homeworld. But deep down he knew it wasn't an attack, deep down he knew it was Atrium of the Crystal City here to bring Orion back home, and it was with great shame that he acknowledged that he would almost prefer it to be an attack. He couldn't bring himself to say Orion had become indispensable to the people of Junk, but he had come to be the greatest asset their planet had, and even he had been hearing the whispers of 'Pax-Gar'. He chuckled at the first time he had heard such whispers, as they came not as a surprise to him, but an affirmation; he himself had made such suggestions to Orion several times recently.

A war he could fight. True, he'd undoubtedly lose a war against Cybertron, and lose badly, but parting with his dear friend and advisor would be almost as hard. Ultimately he knew his actions were correct, and could only hope that word wouldn't be reaching his Pax Lo-Gar anytime soon. But as luck would have it, Orion was in Junkion Prime finishing the oversight of the solar harvester he had planned to have orbiting their star from a safe distance and collect energy to be retrieved and brought back to Junk for usage. The retrieved energy would still not be energon, but it would enhance their lives considerably and could be refined into sustenance far better than the swill they subsisted on.

There was no question Orion would be getting word tonight, Wreck Gar's only hope was that he could come up with a good enough case for Orion to stay here by choice; to stay here away from his brother, his other family, his friends Ratchet and Ironhide and his new friend Jazz, and of course away from his love Elita Solus. He put these considerations aside as the two other scouts dipped their heads at seeing him and started toward him.

"Space be lightin'." One stated.

"But just a sec." The other added. "Blurry, then be lookin' like space again, all blacky."

"Look." The scout that had returned to Junkion Prime to fetch Wreck Gar called out and pointed skyward. An object was cutting through the sky, no longer in space but high above them in Junk's atmosphere and approaching them. Wreck Gar suddenly realized another similarity to the events of Orion Pax's arrival, they were in the same clearing that Atrium's ship had set down all those years before.

He tried to remember exactly where the craft had touched down, thinking that it would be likely for some reason that this ship would do the same. He honestly believed that this would be the same ship, but as he scrutinized the shape of the still distant but rapidly approaching object, it seemed just a bit different, somehow larger and sleeker. Despite the difference, he still thought that it would land in the same spot, so set out to direct the three soldiers he had around that spot. He looked to where his memory was telling him the spot was, and there, still slightly scorched from the prior landing years before, was the landing spot. "Debris, Refuse, blend in there and there!" He pointed out the positions and the two soldiers immediately complied, running to the spots and collapsing to the ground and sinking below the top layers of garbage, blending in perfectly. "Goat, with me." Wreck Gar then turned and positioned himself and the third soldier a few dozen yards from where he expected the ship to touch down. Both of them collapsed into the debris strewn about the surface of the vast clearing and waited.

It took nearly a half hour for the ship to settle into place, and as Wreck Gar suspected, it was not the same craft that Atrium had piloted to their world before. Atrium's ship had been a very nice small transport, larger than a starhopper and of far greater quality and craftsmanship than anything Wreck had ever boarded, but this new ship was finer still. Roughly the same size, but sleeker, almost spear-like in appearance. It settled down, and a little over a minute later the hatch near the ground opened and a stranger stepped out. At least, it was a stranger to the three soldiers, Wreck Gar recognized him instantly, despite having never laid optics on him before. Shorter than average, but not to the point of being considered short, stocky but athletic, predominantly dark blue, possessing a U-shaped crest over his silver face, and armed with a mid-sized rifle. He slowly walked out, eventually passing between where Debris and Refuse were positioned, he was now only a second from being killed should Wreck Gar give the order…possibly even if he didn't give the order if either of this soldiers considered the newcomer a threat. A consideration passed through Wreck Gar's head just for a moment, one asking him if that would truly be such a bad thing. This could be covered up, and Orion would stay, likely forever. The Gar of Junk immediately cast that thought aside and silently chided himself for even creating that thought.

He made a choice and rose from the garbage, his quad-bladed axe in his hand. The newcomer turned and directed his rifle toward him, prompting the two Junkions on either side of him to rise from their hiding spots and make to strike him. "Hold!" Wreck Gar called out to his soldiers, who the newcomer nervously twisted his head around noting them and realizing that he could be killed very easily should things head that direction. To defuse the situation, he raised his axe high above him, and tossed it to the ground. "Goat, 'veal self." With that his third solder arose a few feet from him, short sword in hand. "Junkions, toss weapons."

Debris, still glaring at the intruder, verbally objected. "Gar, tell we we not bein' surrendin' here."

Wreck Gar nodded. "No, we are not surrendering. This visitor is not here to conquer us, are you Lord Pax?"

"Pax?" The three guards muttered in surprise together, followed by an immediate change in their demeanor and the tossing of their weapons. The two Junkions flanking the visitor stepped toward him, giving him gentle slaps on the back before continuing on to stand with their leader. "Kin o' da Pax Lo-Gar bein' kin o' da Junk Folk." Refuse stated with a smile to the blue newcomer as he walked toward Wreck Gar.

A goofy smile came over the visitor as his rifle-wielding arm wend slack and the weapon pointed harmlessly toward the ground. "You know Orion? Thank Primus. And he's safe?"

"Orion." Goat scoffed. "He bein' da' Pax Lo-Gar!"

"PAX LOOOOO-GAAAARRRRRR!" Refuse and Debris howled loudly in unison before giving into a bout of laughter.

"Mayhap Pax Gar?" Wreck Gar stated, causing his soldiers to freeze in place and stare nervously at him with wide optics. He noted their fear and smiled. "Orion Pax make good Gar. Wreck suggest Garchoice in future."

"Wreck bein' Gar of Junk." Goat stated nervously.

"Pax great Lo-Gar, none be doubtin'," Debris added, "but Wreck only Gar o' da' Junkfolk."

"Gar means ruler?" The newcomer asked. "King, Prime, something like that?"

"Aye." Refuse answered.

"Then I must agree with your friends." The newcomer stated as he slowly started walking toward them. "Orion is brilliant, but he is not meant to be here."

"He is!" Wreck Gar snarled, causing his men to take threatening stances toward Lord Pax. "Junk is his home! You betrayed his trust! You cast him away, Roller of House Pax!"

"I did what I did to protect him!" The blue robot snapped back defensively.

"All the more reason for him to stay!" Wreck Gar shot back.

"Sentinel Prime is dead!" Roller stated, his words freezing Wreck Gar's vocal processors for a moment. "It's time for me to take him home."

"Junk is home of Pax Lo-Gar." Refuse growled, finally realizing why his Gar's mood had turned against the newcomer.

Roller stared at the four of them individually before finally settling his optics on those of Wreck Gar. "He is your prisoner then?"

"No!" Wreck Gar objected. "Never."

"Pax Lo-Gar bein' our friend!" Debris retorted.

"Orion is my brother." Roller shot back.

"Orion o' da' Paxes bein' a Lo-Gar." Refuse grumbled back.

"In time, Orion will be Gar." Wreck Gar added, the statement silencing his men once again, but no looks of shock or words of protest followed this time.

Roller sadly looked at them all, then down and seemed to give a short nod before looking back up at Wreck Gar with sympathetic optics. "I understand, but Orion isn't meant to be Gar…he's meant to be Prime."

Wreck Gar stared at him with wide optics. "They wish to make him their Prime?"

Roller looked away. "No," he paused, "no, they don't. Not now anyway. But it's what he's meant for."

"Who is to be Prime then?" Wreck Gar asked, noting the doubt and secrecy within the newcomer.

"I…I know not." Roller replied. "Sentinel only just died. Under ideal circumstances it would take months to select a new Prime without the Matrix, and right now…well…circumstances are not…ideal."

Wreck Gar stared heatedly at Roller. "Explain yourself! What would you be bringing Orion back to?" He took a step forward toward the visitor, now less than a dozen yards separating them. "Is Cybertron truly safe for his return? Answer truly!"

"No." Roller replied, looking emotionlessly into Wreck Gar's optics. "The Tartarun Gates have fallen. Sparkeaters walk the surface once again. I don't seek Orion because he can return, I seek Orion because he must return."

The other three Junkions exchanged confused glances. They were protoforms born on Junk, intended to be ready-made colonists having never stepped foot on the homeworld. All three were born after the revolt and the tossing off of their homeworld oppressors, and were taught very little of Cybertron beyond the threat that it posed them. But Wreck Gar was of Cybertron, was well aware of the legends, and glared with the intensity Roller Pax's intentions deserved. "Madness." He growled. "You smuggle him here to avoid danger, then plan to return him to certain death. Utter slagging madness."

"He's meant to be our savior." Roller replied, his gaze unwavering.

"He's a child."

"Nay, we have reached the age of self-determination." Roller retorted. "And as such, the choice is his."

"You will not be seeing Orion." Wreck Gar snarled.

Roller's gaze immediately turned to a heated glare. "You mean to keep me from him?"

"I will not let you betray him a second time!" The growl was accentuated by the other three Junkions moving forward in a threatening manner.

Roller looked at all of them, then back to Wreck Gar. "You are loyal to him…I'm pleased, grateful and unsurprised to see this. You clearly are protective of him, this also warms my spark. But you must let me meet with him, you must let me say what I came to say to him, and we all must let him make his own choice, to do otherwise would mean that we do not respect him."

The words did sink home to Wreck Gar, but still he leaned toward keeping Roller from Orion. Perhaps in time he would have changed his mind…in fact he knew that at some point he would have acknowledged Roller to be right and allowed him access, but the lights cutting over the hill and the sounds of others driving toward them made it all moot. In seconds a dozen vehicles rounded over the top of the last hill and headed toward them, led by a familiar red and blue form. The vehicle continued toward them until they all stopped about thirty yards out, holding their position in vehicular modes for a few moments before the red and blue freight hauler transformed into Orion Pax and the Junkions accompanying him transformed to robot mode as well. Orion took a few steps toward them, glaring intently at his adoptive brother. The silent stare continued for over a minute before Orion finally spoke. "I thought the planet was smelling worse than usual."

Roller kept his optics locked on Orion's, his face as impassive as it had been, but he took a step in Orion's direction. "You probably want to know what's been going on since you've been gone. The main thing is that about fourteen years ago everything just got…better. It's like a new golden age. Not sure what triggered the change, but everyone's been so much happier the last fourteen years."

Orion, equally impassive, maintained his stare and took a few steps forward as well. "How many crates did you need to stack on the pilot's seat to fly that thing?"

"Just two." Roller replied in a deadpan manner. "Did you know that I get thank you cards from the Autobots every year on the anniversary of your disappearance."

"I would expect no less from them." Orion replied, barely suppressing a grin. "A-Three and I used to go over your tests and laugh for hours at your answers. It's a good think you're highborn."

"You know Torenia had a ceremony where she burned all your stuff?" Roller replied, the slow steps bringing the two closer.

"Don't remember having that much stuff to burn." Orion answered.

"She went to great effort and expense to find stuff you used to own, or even just touched, just so that she could burn it." Roller stated, still stone-faced.

Orion however finally broke and chuckled, and the two immediately closed the gap between them and embraced. "I missed you brother."

"Missed you too, O." Roller stated.

They finally released one another and Orion turned his optics up to the Stellar Spear. "Olnius is going to eject you from the House once he finds out you boosted this."

"I'm sure he would were he Emir." Roller replied.

"He wasn't chosen?" Orion asked in surprise. "I just assumed he would be chosen."

"He was shortly after you…left." Roller answered. "But we had another election recently and he lost."

"And the new Emir is OK with you taking House Pax spacecraft out on joyrides?" Orion asked skeptically. "I highly doubt that."

"I swear it's true, he's totally OK with it." Roller answered with a shrug. "Hold on, I'll double check with him." Roller stepped back and called out into the air. "Hey, Emir Pax, you're OK with me having taken the Stellar Spear, right?" He paused a moment. "Yup, no problem Roller, enjoy the ride."

Orion stared at him in disbelief. "Get the slag out of here! They picked you?"

"Yup."

"Really?"

Now Roller displayed an almost genuine look of hurt. "You don't think I could be Emir?"

"I knew you'd be Emir at some point, just not for another twenty years or so." Orion replied. "You, we're, barely old enough to sip engex…legally anyway." He looked at Roller as the smaller bot shrugged. "Congratulations brother." Orion then nodded back to the ship. "So, my Emir, to what do we owe the visit?"

"Primus, don't call me that." Roller grumbled before answering him. "I'm here to take you home."

"What's changed?" Orion asked intently.

Roller smiled. "Sentinel Honorum is dead." His smiled broadened. "Great news, huh?"

Orion was stunned by the news, and seemed to drift into his thoughts a bit. "It…it…" He turned and gave an almost scolding look at Roller. "I'm sorry my brother, while this removes a threat to me and likely to you as well, I cannot take joy in the death of another, not even an enemy."

Roller looked at him in surprise, then a sour look came over him. "Fine, then take joy in the fact that a terrible leader is no longer abusing his tremendous power, take joy in the fact that life without him will be better for most of the population of an entire planet, including people that mean a great deal to you, and take joy in knowing that you can return home to see those people. Can you take joy in those things, all of which are facilitated by the death of our enemy, you sanctimonious shitbag?"

Orion looked him over appraisingly and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I can do that."

"Asshat." Roller grumbled.

"Tell him, Lor…Emir Pax!" Wreck Gar growled, having watched all that transpired and knowing that he and Junk were losing a dear friend. "Tell him what awaits him on Cybertron!"

Roller stared at Wreck Gar almost angrily. "Roller?" Orion's questioning voice directing his gaze back toward his brother.

Roller looked down and nodded. "All is not well on Cybertron. Despite Sentinel Honorum's death, it is less safe for you than it ever was. Less safe for any of us."

"Tell me."

"Warriors from the underground fighting circuit have been organizing for years. The terrorist acts blamed on the Autobots have been their work all along, and they just now revealed themselves and started attacking the high houses, trying to kill all highborn and royals."

"Megatron!" Orion growled.

"Who?" Roller asked, clearly not familiar with the name.

"Gladiatorial champion, and as of fourteen years ago the leader of an underground group of fighters intent on upending the world. I'm assuming his group is one in the same as this group that has recently attacked." Orion explained. "Lugnut was with him."

"Yep." Roller answered. "Can't say anything about this Megatron, but Lugnut is definitely one of them. They're all branded with the face of the Warrior, much like your Autobot buddies have the Common Man. But that's really not the big thing."

"There's a greater danger than this?" Orion asked in disbelief.

"Aye brother," Roller replied, "the Tartarun Gates have fallen. Sparkeaters walk the land again. I barely launched before they overran Tyger Pax." Roller noted Orion's optics and mouth opening wide "No, I was the last one to leave. All other members of our House are safe, brother."

"You cannot return to such a situation!" Wreck Gar stated as he approached the two of them. "You cannot make a difference in such turmoil, against so many enemies!"

Orion looked to Wreck Gar. "I believe I made a difference here."

"No question my friend, you were the most impactful presence of our war." Wreck Gar stated as eloquently as he could. "But you were the most powerful warrior on the battlefield here. Against sparkeaters, you're nothing. Nothing but another meal to strengthen them."

"Orion Pax is far more than just muscle!" Roller snapped. "You didn't make him a low Gar because he can lift a lot! You're not planning on making him Gar because he can take a punch! He's brilliant, and fearless, and charismatic, and inspiring, and a born leader!" He squared up across from Wreck Gar. "Tell me I'm wrong! Tell me he's not the greatest natural leader you've ever seen!"

"Aye, he is!" Wreck Gar snapped. "And I will not see such a Cybertronian lost to a sinking ship, one filled with traitorous bastards who look down on him for his low birth."

"The ship is still afloat as of now, and I truly believe he can keep it that way." Roller snapped back. "And most of those on this ship are as low born as he is, but look up to him as a hero…if not now, they soon will. Or do you think that they won't?"

"Corpses can't call another corpse hero!" Wreck Gar retorted.

"There is hope!" Roller snarled, then turned to Orion. "Cybertron needs you, brother."

"We need you, Orion." Wreck Gar pleaded. "Look at what you've done for us. The solar harvester alone will change so much for our planet."

"The sparkeaters are amassing in our home." Roller stated. "They will soon be marching south and spreading out over the planet. There is no negotiating with them, there is nothing we can offer them other than our sparks. I'm going back to fight them. I'm probably going to die in the attempt, as will Torenia, Ironhide, Inferno, your Autobot friends…and Elita."

Wreck Gar sagged. With those words he knew the fight was lost. Orion looked to Wreck Gar, and made to say something, but Wreck Gar beat him to it. "Go my friend. Save them, save them all." Wreck Gar paused as he thought of something. He turned to Roller. "I can promise nothing, but we have space-faring craft here, believe it or not, and…well, just don't be surprised if you receive a transmission with an offer of help."

"My Gar, you cannot make such an offer!" Orion protested. "The Junkions are too thinned out, you cannot sacrifice any more, especially for a planet that has done so many wrongs to you and your people."

"I am still the Gar of Junk, my friend, and if my people are willing to fight for Cybertron, we will fight for Cybertron." Wreck Gar replied. "We will fight for your home, as you fought for ours."

Wreck Gar felt and hand grip his should and squeeze lightly, and looked down to Roller smiling up at him. "I see why Orion holds you in such high regard, Gar of Junk. Know that if we survive this, The Torus Heights will always be your ally." Roller then turned to Orion. "So…shall we?" He asked, motioning his head to the spacecraft behind him.

"Lead the way, Emir Pax."