Grimlock

The shuttle was crowded, not dangerously so, there was enough space to allow a wide berth for the table that he, Slag and Snarl were sitting at, but it was undoubtedly packed tighter than the nobles who used to own it ever had it. Not that they cared how this band of Autobot outcasts were treating their craft; they weren't in a position to care about anything anymore. House Karkas was a lower house of Nyon, but apparently not beneath the attention of the Decepticons, who swept through the estate and slaughtered every Karkas, guard and servant on the premises in their recent purge of the highborn. Swoop was a fair tracker, good enough so that when he told Grimlock that nobody had gotten away, Grimlock believed him. As callous as it was, this was good news for Grimlock; Autobots weren't thieves, at least that was one of the many rules the outlaw group had been hammering him with over the last nine years, and it was one of the few that he tried to abide by. But if all the Karkas's were dead, then it really wasn't theft. He did consider the wealth of the highborn to be ill-gotten and undeserved, but the Autobots were trying to make a point, and stealing stuff would kind of negate that point, or so they claimed. Of course, it all seemed pointless over the last fourteen years as the planet considered them to be indiscriminate, murdering terrorists, but in light of Megatron going public with his band of thugs and it becoming apparent that they were the true terrorists, the Autobots' innocence was slowly being accepted by much of the planet, so maybe now, in light of the slowly receding hatred, the Autobots' good citizens campaign might amount to more than a hill of shit, though Grimlock still doubted that very much. The Autobots would always be hated and disregarded by the powers that be, they just currently happened to be less a threat to them than the Decepticons.

Grimlock leaned back in the undersized chair bolted to the floor in front of the undersized table holding three engex bottles that they had taken from the Karkas's supply room, and raised one of the bottles to an intake slat on his lower face, sucking the tainted fuel into his frame. It was the strongest drink the murdered nobles had, but it did little more than tickle the gladiator's throat. The gray and yellow warrior slammed the bottle back down on the table and listened to the final verse of the bawdy tune the drunken bestial Autobots under his command were belting out, swaying with their own found engex bottles in their hands.

"So the fowl will strut,

And the beast will rut,

But I'll always take a mingling femme!

By Hand, I'll always take a mingling femme!"

"Morons." Grimlock grumbled across the table to Slag and Snarl, the other two in better spirits than their leader. "We're bigger, we're immortal, and billions of things that kill organics are nothing to us, yet they sing a song implying the main reason it's better to be a mechanical is that spark-mingling is more fun than organic mating."

"How would they even know it's more fun?" Snarl asked, intentionally avoiding Grimlock's point and making a valid conversation out of the insult.

Slag chuckled. "Singers are deviants, my guess is that one transformed into some male beast, his conjux transformed into a female of the species, and put the two methods to the test. Makes sense, it's a Nyonian song, whoever made it up was probably a beast."

"I don't think it's an accurate test." Snarl continued, no doubt aware that the discussion was annoying Grimlock but continuing anyway because he found it amusing to do so. Grimlock would have to find a pretext for beating his ass sometime soon. "Sensory receptors of metallico and nerve endings of flesh work differently, especially on the erogenous zones of fleshies."

"It creeps me out that you've put that much thought into this." Slag grumbled. "And whether it's accurate or not means nothing, degenerate singers would do it for the giggles if nothing else."

"Would you two shut the hell up?" Grimlock snarled. "I can't believe you morons are talking about this."

"What, spark mingling, or animal mating?" Snarl egged him on with a grin.

"Grimlock's not into femmes I guess." Slag was blunter with the insults.

"I'm attracted to femmes like most, and the idea of mingling…yeah, it's appealing." Grimlock grumbled as he snatched the bottle back and took another pull from it. "But it's fighting I love, and getting into fights is easy, getting a femme to open her chest is hard. So you idiots can waste your time doing what's appealing but impossible while I'm out there doing what I love."

"If you love fighting so slaggin' much," Slag grumbled, "why'd you get us kicked out of the circuit?"

"You slaggin' morons did that!" Grimlock snapped. "I still can't believe you bought into Soundwave's bullshit and came charging in, as if I'd ever need you pussies to save me."

"Even Swoop bought into it, and he's smart." Sludge, who had wandered through the eleven other Autobot beast-bots in the cargo hold of the freighter to be closer to Grimlock, Slag and Snarl, chimed in.

"Just because Swoop isn't as dumb as you three doesn't make him smart!" Grimlock growled back, slamming the bottle back down on the table, this time hard enough to shatter it, sending the remaining fifth of the contents spilling over the round table-top and causing most Autobots in the shuttle to look his way.

"OK, fine, but getting us on the Autobot shit-detail list was more than just us!" Slag shot back.

"We're Nyonians, they stuck us in Nyon, what's the slaggin' problem?" Grimlock growled defensively, fully aware that they had been isolated from the bulk of the Autobot forces since shortly after hooking up with them, and the primary reason for that being his inability to deal with others.

"We're not in Simfur, or Gygax, or anything resembling civilization, no, we're stationed in the slaggin' Toraxxis Plains." Slag growled back. "And they stuck us with this collection of miscreants, head-cases and half-asses!" The former gladiator nearly yelled, causing the rest of the robots in the cargo section of the craft to go silent and glare at him. "All because you have to be an asshole all the time to everyone!"

"Are you kidding me?" Grimlock was stunned. "The only one on the planet unfit to refer to me as an asshole is you!"

"Oh, I know that!" Slag snapped back. "I'm a huge asshole to everyone all the time too, a bigger one than you, but I'm not the leader! I'm an asshole, they reprimand me, or throw me in the brig, or whatever. But when you're an asshole, we all get stuck in the Toraxxis Plains with a shit crew!"

"Hey!" Repugnus, a large red, orange and gray brute called out. "Watch who you're calling a shit crew!"

"I'm calling you all a shit crew. I've watched you being a shit crew for years now, which justifies me calling you a shit crew." Slag replied challengingly, a grin spreading over his face. Grimlock had faced off against both of them, both in the pits and in personal brawls, and while he knew Slag would win, the horned dumbass wouldn't be walking away from it unscathed.

Grimlock stood, determined to quell this confrontation, but Swoop's voice came through the intercom. "Hey boys, we're being hailed. Decepticons telling us to put down."

"We're still in the Toraxxis Plains, right?" Grimlock asked, not sure why the 'Cons would be interested in them, but then realized that they were flying a craft that belonged to a clan on the Decepticon hit list. But that left the question of what the Decepticons were doing in the boneyards of Nyon. "Hold on, I'm coming to the cockpit." A moment later the hulking Grimlock was squeezing himself through the small door and into the co-pilot's seat. The room and chairs were even a bit tight for the smaller Swoop, but both made due. "What the hell are these guys doing in the boneyards?"

"They didn't bother to explain that to me, just barked an order to identify ourselves and put down in an area sixty miles ahead." Swoop replied.

"What'd you tell them?" Grimlock asked, noting through the windshield the approaching squadron of Decepticon fliers heading out to escort them.

"Just that we're Autobots." Swoop replied. "Look boss, normally I'd be up for a fight, but we're in a bucket, those fliers look like they know what they're doing, and everything we've heard about the Decepticons suggests that they own the skies, so let's do what they say until we're on the ground. We have a chance there, but up here, we're cooked."

"Such inspiring bravery from the team flier." Grimlock grumbled.

"Yes, THE team flier. As in the only one." Swoop replied. "And they have thrusters, I flap. Good for domed arenas, but in an open sky, the jets have the overwhelming advantage over the bird."

"Whatever, just put us down and prepare for a fight." Grimlock replied, studying the terrain closely, scrutinizing the general area that they were being instructed to put down. There were mountains in the distance, but too far to offer any cover. No vegetation or other objects beyond sporadic boulders that were too small to be of any use for effective protection in a firefight. He was finally able to make out a cover designed to look like the terrain below it, a very good camouflage masking some structure, one covering a few hundred yards squared. The Autobots would be outnumbered, out-gunned, and out-positioned the moment they set down, and despite his bravado, Grimlock knew the odds against them were likely too great. As they drew near the landing spot and the camouflaged structure not far from it, he saw a sight that made the odds against them significantly worse. "Shockwave."

"Oh, I remember that guy." Swoop stated as he took in the landing zone. "Let's hope you two play nicer than you did last time."

"Me too, looks like he's been enhanced since our previous meeting, a lot bulkier." Grimlock replied. "I'm sure I can still take him hand to hand, but he's probably nearly at my level in terms of strength now, and his firepower is like nothing I've ever seen…or felt."

"That's right, he shot you in the back, didn't he?" Swoop muttered, studying the purple royal waiting for them on the ground. "And from what I hear he and Soundwave apparently murdered their own house. Not sure we should be trusting this guy."

"No choice at this point." Grimlock stated. "If he wants this ship down, he has enough firepower on his person to take it down, not to mention the squad of flying shitbags you're so afraid of. We put down, if he pulls anything at that point, we'll react accordingly."

"Meaning you'll kill hi…"

"Meaning I'll kill him, yes." Grimlock interrupted in impatient annoyance.

"Might be tougher than you think," Swoop commented as he started lowering to the ground, "Razorclaw's and Hun-Grrr's tribes are with him, along with those green and purple…"

"Yeah, I see 'em." Grimlock grumbled. "Just put us down. I'll make it clear that despite the numbers, and the fact that they've got a few elite warriors in their mix, most of them will be dying should they pull anything." A moment later they were on the ground and Grimlock was barreling his way out of the cockpit and toward the door. "Slag, Snarl, Sludge, with me. The rest of you stay put, but be ready to come charging out weapons blazing." Grimlock lead his squad sans Swoop down the steps and onto the dry, rock and ore covered ground. Shockwave merely stood his ground, ten bestial robots and six green and purple robots with construction vehicle parts arrived and stood behind the cycloptic Decepticon. "Been a long time, Shockwave, looks like you added some bulk along with that Warrior's face on your chest."

Shockwave stared at the newcomers for a moment before replying. "Megatron had been a bit vague in how to deal with non-noble, non-government affiliated potential combatants."

"We're called Autobots." Snarl responded.

"So your pilot claimed." Shockwave replied. "I'd heard that your gladiatorial squad had joined them, though reports of your standing with them have varied."

"You just need to know we're Autobots." Grimlock grumbled. "And that we've got a score to settle with you for the carnage you've caused in our name over the last fourteen years. Not to mention my personal score to settle regarding the bullshit that went down in my fight against Megatron. But we're willing to overlook that for now."

"Personal score; against me?" Shockwave asked. "I took no part in anything that transpired in the arena that night, and it was I that was left critically wounded in our confrontation afterward. If anything, I should be the one with a score to settle, were I petty enough to consider such things."

Grimlock, still more than a dozen yards away from the Decepticon, stepped forward and pointed. "You attacked me, slag-face! Your attempt to kill me from behind not working out in your favor isn't something you get to hold a vendetta over. You start a fight and lose, guess what, you're still the asshole that started the fight. Me winning doesn't make me the asshole."

"Valid point, but irrelevant as I've already stated that I don't hold grudges." Shockwave replied. "If anything, I suppose I should be grateful. My failure to subdue your team is what prompted me to realize the value in physical abilities and enhance my frame."

"Let me guess," Grimlock grumbled, "this is where you tell me that the outcome of any fight we have now would be very different."

"No, I was not going to say that." Shockwave replied. "My goal is not to instigate a fight with you, something that I would assume would cause you great relief given how hopelessly outgunned you are. No, a situation has arisen to the northwest that has taken precedence over our prior objectives and prompted us to find common ground with our enemies. Neither you nor the other Autobots qualify as our enemies, at worst you would be seen as a potential nuisance, and your northern affiliates have already entered into an alliance with the Decepticons, so instead of antagonistic remarks, perhaps we should make arrangements to possibly consolidate resources and transport our troops to Petrex in the most efficient manner possible."

Grimlock sensed Snarl stepping forward to address the purple Decepticon. "So we're not going to die right now? Good." Grimlock's groan was barely audible, he'd have to give Snarl a solid kick to the skid plate later. He groaned again as he sensed Slag stepping forward as well.

"What are you guys doing here anyway?" The horned gladiator pressed, his question creating an uncomfortable stir amongst the Decepticons. "There's nothing out here but hundreds of miles of rock and ore in every direction."

"That's not your concern, Autobot." Shockwave replied before turning to the green and purple robot with a wide shovel mounted on his back. "See to the arrangements." The robot nodded and turned, his team following after him back toward a previously unnoticed cave mouth that led into the ground. Shockwave turned back to Grimlock. "We can refuel the House Karkas craft that you've taken possession of."

"We topped off before leaving the Karkas estate. There was plenty of fuel and other swag still there, you guys need to work on your pillaging." Grimlock replied.

"Our objective was to purge the nobility, not steal their assets." Shockwave replied as he turned back toward the camouflage structure. "We will be taking off momentarily; as you have adequate transportation and fuel, you will be taking off now." Shockwave and his Decepticons marched back toward their hidden building.

Grimlock watched them leave for a few moments before turning and grumbling to his own soldiers. "Let's go."

Fortress Maximus

The makeshift airfield on the outskirts of Petrex had continued to expand over the last several hours, now that the assault on the army of sparkeaters was just hours away there was no more delaying commitments to the cause. There had been no putting off such commitments on the part of The Decagon, but the organizing and moving of their forces truly had just been completed a couple hours ago. Fortress Maximus looked up proudly at the descending freighters and troop transport carriers. Many fools considered their reclusiveness attributable to cowardice; when this war ends, those fools will know the truth, the truth that the line of Maximus and its vassals have no peer on the battlefield. A smaller transport ship separated from the rest of the House Maximus ships, this one bearing the wolf-like sigil of the Maximals. Fort Max…he pondered when he had started thinking of himself with the nickname Pious had given him for a moment before going back to realizing that these Maximals, some of House Maximus's most loyal and effective retainers, might be leaving their service to follow the one claiming to be a Convoy. No, this Orion Pax had never once made the claim. The young returning fugitive brushed it off and tried to find fault with the evidence others used to foist the claim upon him. He genuinely seemed to be uninterested in being the last Convoy, something that would make him a high noble, perhaps the highest noble short of royalty, and in the considerations of many commoners and low nobles on the planet, higher than the royal houses. By all discernable measures he was content being a commoner, but hell-bent on improving the lives of commoners. Fort Max grumbled at realizing that his pushing aside of the evidence all but confirming his Convoy heritage was perhaps the most Convoy thing he could possibly do. Ramulus was already convinced, Pious was on the cusp of believing as well, and Fortress…? He shelved the thought as his soldiers began filing out of the transports.

Two generals strode out from the disembarking soldiers and marched toward him, both tall and powerfully built, but dwarfed by the great Maximus. "Hail Fortress Maximus, greatest warrior of The Decagon and all of Cybertron!" The silver, slightly larger of the generals belted out, eliciting a smile from Fortress Maximus. "Welcome to Petrex Steelhaven, and to you as well Cerebros. Cerebros, please lead a battalion to assist in the evacuation of the civilians and the damaged Omega Supreme."

"Of course my lord." Cerebros replied. "It will be an honor and a privilege, not to mention the sating of a long held curiosity to see the Guardian of the Gates." With that the predominantly gray and blue robot set out to do his duty while Fortress Maximus and Steelhaven turned back to their forces to organize the assembling. It seemed pointless to have the troops disembark now, as the dawn was coming and with it the start of their attack on the sparkeaters, but these warriors had spent hours fighting the Decepticons, only to reassemble for the trip to Petrex and prep for a battle…nay, war, a war with an enemy so dangerous that fifteen million years later they still inspired terror in the entire planet. These warrior needed and deserved the few hours of downtime here in the safety south of the Mithril Sea that he and the other lords of Cybertron could provide them.

"Fortress Maximus, my lord, a word please?" The voice was both familiar and expected.

Fort Max and Steelhaven both turned to look upon the red, tan, silver and light green Maximal. "Of course, Apelinq. You fought with exceptional valor against the Decepticon raiders. You have the gratitude of House Maximus."

"It was an honor, Lord Maximus." Apelinq nodded. "And I look forward to fighting by your side in the war to come."

"But you wish to follow another into it." Fort Max cut to the chase, noting the look of surprise and then a bit of sadness coming from the Maximal.

"I mean no disrespect my lord." Apelinq replied. "But we have always been pledged to House Convoy. And the possibility that it still exists…" he looked down, then back deeply into Fortress Maximus's optics, "I have great respect for you, and I trust your word. Do you believe this Orion Pax to be of Convoy metallico?"

Fortress Maximus nodded and pondered that for a moment before answering. "I have never known a Convoy, both lords Big Convoy and Lio Convoy had long since gone missing when I was forged. But both of them have been described in great detail to me by members of my house, and I have been told of other Convoys by both Maximus and Maximal. I know of how they behaved, how they presented themselves, the tone and wisdom of their words, and I know of their physical traits. I have been studying this Orion Pax, I have been interested in him since the farce of his trial and even more so since his interruption of the Autobot executions and his subsequent disappearance. I know not whether the claim is true, but everything I've observed of him," he paused a moment and looked intently at Apelinq, sighing before continuing, "everything I've observed matches what I know to be true of House Convoy."

"My lord, I too greatly admire the lad, but his courage, humility and service to others are traits of many great houses." Steelhaven interjected. "In particular, House Pax. Many of the traits used to describe Big Convoy were every bit as true of Arlon Pax, the man who raised him."

"Yes, Arlon Pax was a tremendous emir and lord, worthy of comparison to Great Convoy himself," Apelinq started, "but Orion's…well, his look, he didn't get that from Arlon or any Pax. Many have blue helmets and silver crests, but his, well, his traits aren't Magnus or any of the others frequently likened to House Convoy. His look, it's uncannily Convoy."

"True, he does have the look." Steelhaven conceded.

"There's more than just his resemblance." Fortress Maximus stated. "In the cave of his birth, on Insula Avalonius, black coral was found, polished and shaped, not something naturally occurring, and dated to over twelve million years ago. I was not aware until it was explained to me today, but supposedly black coral has preservative properties for sentio metallico, though twelve million years is far beyond the capability of any preservative." He shook his head further. "But the demon king claimed Orion's metal tasted as though he was born the old way. None of us was familiar with the term, but when we returned to Petrex Omega Supreme confirmed it was a real thing. A strong enough spark can forge non-sentio compatible metal into a viable protoform. If the black coral was what remained of a cask filled with Convoy metallico, and it seeped into the metal of the cave, then it's possible the traits live on in Orion Pax." The huge robot shrugged. "It's thin, but it's possible. And it's enough to have convinced Ramulus." Fortress Maximus nodded solemnly to Apelinq. "See this Orion Pax for yourself. Speak to him. Come to know him. If you believe him to be the last of the Convoys, then you have my blessing, and I'm sure the blessing of Emir Pious Maximus as well."

Apelinq nodded humbly. "You have my thanks and eternal friendship my lord."

Nightbeat

The cell he was being kept in, nothing more than a small storage shed really, was just deep enough for him to lay down in and wide enough for him to sit against one wall with his feet just shy of touching the opposite wall. It would be adequate for a dormancy chamber, but was a bit claustrophobic for anything more. But apart from his confinement, these Maximals were treating him well enough. He was provided energon rations; daily, which seemed impossible for anywhere other than the home world. On Cybertron he'd usually only consume roughly twice a week unless there was some atypical exertion. And the energon they gave him was high quality. It seemed almost pure. True, there was an odd taste to it, energon emerging from different regions of Cybertron had its own flavor, but this stuff had a piquancy that Nightbeat had never encountered, which was to be expected. The fact that it didn't taste synthetic in any discernable way was not expected. It seemed to be slightly processed, but its potency was greater than anything he'd ever consumed…to the point where he wondered if any processing done to it was to thin it down.

The mystery of the rations he was being given would have to wait as the majority of his focus needed to be dedicated to finding a way out of this ship and off this planet. What was left of his focus was going toward a conversation with the Maximal on the other side of his door. Rattrap was a pain in the ass who looked out for himself, who, despite there being traces of evidence to suggest he had a good spark deep down, Nightbeat was certain would sell out a friend to advance his own agenda or well-being. A flash of his last meeting with Cosmos and the realization that the Maximals were dismantling the starhopper he'd pressured his little green friend into lending him made Nightbeat realize that he wasn't fit to judge anyone, even Rattrap. And even despite the little Maximal's character flaws, he was actually growing a bit fond of him, and continued listening to the whiny voice coming through the door he was leaning against. "So, in light of all that's happened and what's been thrust on him and all the shit he's taken, Polar Claw really isn't as bad as ya' think he is. Unless ya' think he's an overbearing…hey, didn't even plan that pun, joyless jerk who comes across as way too serious. Then ya'd be dead-on. Kinda reminds me of Big Convoy in the way-too-serious department, but I guess it makes sense as they were best friends and all. But at least he's keeping you here, instead of in the brig with the Preds we got."

"He's holding me without formal charges and has confiscated my ship." Nightbeat grumbled back through the narrow slit between the floor and the bottom of the door. "But yeah, I'm sure I'm judging him too harshly."

"Actually, funny you should mention that." The deep, booming voice of Polar Claw announced, the sound accompanied by his footsteps. Nightbeat slid up, pushing against the door to get to his feet and stepped away from the door. A moment later it slid open and the hulking red and white Maximal Commander was standing next to Rattrap, a tray in his hand with a few small crystals of energon on it. "We've come up with a formal charge for you. Enemy operative."

"Enemy operative?" Nightbeat chuckled incredulously. "I am an agent for the legal government of Cybertron, therefore I'm to assume you view Cybertron as the enemy?"

Polar Claw glared down at him. "I am loyal to House Convoy. With their…demise I remain loyal to the ideals they held and championed. They fought to save this world from a weapon created by an agent of the Cybertronian government…well, no, the Senate forbade what he was doing, his sanction was in secret, but from an authority even greater than the Senate."

"Yeah, yeah, Jhiaxus was working on his Ferrotaxis on this Earth with the full but secret support of Guardian Prime." Nightbeat muttered. "I've heard it, hell, I believe it, but you have to know I had nothing to do with any of that. I'll help you dismantle the Ferrotaxis and eliminate all plans for it, as well as compiling the evidence against Guardian Prime and his crew prior to making the Manifest flight capable and getting it back to Cybertron. After the sparkeater threat has been taken care of, I'll testify all I know, and I will not be coerced or intimidated by Guardian Prime or any successor should he not survive, nor will his legend or any heroic action on his part against the sparkeaters influence me from withholding any damning testimony. You have my word."

"Your word." Polar Claw grumbled, but his facial features softened a bit. "Here's the thing, I might be inclined to believe you, but it really doesn't matter. The fact is that all you can testify to is that Guardian Prime appeared to allow development of the Ferrotaxis to continue after the Senate ordered it shut down, and I say 'appeared to' because frankly, neither you nor I have proof that he knew what Jhiaxus was up to here. I know that Big Convoy believed Guardian Prime was aware and supportive of Jhiaxus using this world as a testing site for his cyber-forming endeavor, and Big Convoy being convinced was enough for me, but it won't be enough for the Senate or anyone else to level charges against the great Guardian Prime. But for the sake of argument, let's say it was enough to convince them; would it even matter? You mention Prime's legend, I'm assuming it hasn't diminished in the million years since his departure from Cybertron, and if it hasn't, he can get away with whatever he wants. He's viewed in an almost godlike way, and not without good reason. Frankly, had anyone other than a Convoy told me to act against him, I'd have told them to piss off. And what he's done, and what he allegedly planned to do…I really don't see that causing outrage on Cybertron." The red and white Maximal nodded down at the energon crystals on the tray in his hands. "Jhiaxus's device was activated, and ran for a matter of hours, and in that time managed to alter this planet's geology to the point where it produced energon. Not some synthetic garbage the other colonies are forced to manufacture to survive, but real, naturally growing energon. And not just energon, but an energon with a potency greater than anything on the home world. We have to water it down to consume it without there being certain…side effects, but side effects that damn near everyone would be more than happy to contend with." Nightbeat suppressed his smile at having already figured that part out on his own. The hulking robot shook his head. "I'm in charge of the group keeping he and his crew from rescue, and even I see the appeal in what Jhiaxus is doing. Throw the Ferrotaxis on any planet falling within certain parameters, and even if you don't fully cyber-form the thing, you at least have a new, large-scale source of energon. Enough so that no Cybertronian will ever know hunger again, ever."

"But at what cost?" Nightbeat asked, partly to counter the argument, but mainly because he genuinely didn't know the full impact of the Ferrotaxis's activation.

Polar Claw regarded Nightbeat with a long look before finally nodding. "Significant seismic events that were felt around the planet caused by the initial modification wave. It was that wave that contained the geologic…overwriting, for lack of a better term, that caused the changes that would lead to this energon being produced. Human settlements all over the world were ravaged by earthquakes, coastal civilizations were decimated by tsunamis, and many of those closest to our island, where the Ferrotaxis was stored and activated, mainly southern Europe and northern Africa, were wiped from existence. Our island, which we'd allowed a human civilization to establish itself on and which had grown into a population numbering in the hundreds of thousands, began to cyber-form in earnest, turning metallic, producing an even more heightened form of energon than what started sprouting in other parts of the planet. The native islanders…" Polar Claw looked down, "well, it claimed an unfathomably high toll, and that was just with the Ferrotaxis on for a matter of hours." The Maximal Commander turned his head back up and locked optics with Nightbeat. "But it's not a cost Cybertronians will have to pay, so they won't hesitate to support Guardian Prime's usage of that damn device, and you know it."

Nightbeat nodded. "But we can't let Cybertron die."

Polar Claw shrugged. "Maybe they can fend for themselves. They managed fifteen million years ago." With that he thrust the tray into Nightbeat's hands and backed away, allowing the door to shut and the locks to engage. "Enjoy your meal."

Nightbeat looked down at the glowing pink embers on his tray, studying them as best he could. He wasn't a chemist, but even protoforms knew energon was essentially just concentrated energy…well, perhaps an oversimplification, but it was an exceptionally dense and potent energy source, and as such, well, boom. Well, it was more complicated than just 'boom', igniting energon was not as simple as many thought, even in its most volatile liquid state; if it were, every Cybertronian in existence would be a walking explosive. The crystalline form, its natural state, could be ingested through a Cybertronian's ambient absorption circuitry, the energy shifted from physical to a near-gaseous form and drawn into the frame. The processed liquid form could be ingested faster, the energy introduced to the frame quicker, and was an overall more enjoyable form for consumption, but it was also less stable. "Wait!" He called out, taking a chance, placing the tray of energon crystals on the floor before standing back up.

"What?" Polar Claw's voice replied from the other side of the door.

"Look, you're holding me here against my will, on bullshit trumped up charges, for reasons that, while I don't agree with, I get. But I think we can all agree that I'm not being held here as punishment for anything I've done, right?" Nightbeat responded.

"What's your point?" Rattrap asked.

"Just that I'm not a criminal, I'm just someone you guys can't let leave." Nightbeat shot back. "So given that this Earth has plenty of energon, at least that's the gist of what I took away from our last conversation, can I request that I get some in liquid form? I prefer to drink mine more than drop it down my gullet or absorb it through the air, I'm sure you can understand."

The door slid open and Polar Claw glared at the smaller robot. "OK, I'll grant this request," the hulking Maximal replied grumpily, prompting Nightbeat reach down and pluck the crystals off the tray, leaving the tray on the ground, and offering them to his captors, "but if you think that you're going to grind us down with whining and demands to the point of letting you go, you're going to be very disappointed. Your pal Rattrap here has 'squeaky wheeled' me and everyone else in our crew to the point of being completely numb to complaining twats."

Nightbeat smiled. "I just prefer liquid energon, that's all."

Polar Claw reached forward and snatched the crystals out of the prisoner's hand, paused, and then reached his other hand behind his back. "I just so happen to have a vial I was saving for myself later." He revealed a small sealed tube with the glowing liquid substance within. "Here, now shut up and enjoy."

"Thank you." Nightbeat replied as the door slid shut again. He stared hungrily at the liquid in the vial, but his frame wasn't low at this point, Maximal hospitality had seen to that, and given that this Earth was now an energon-producing world thanks to Jhiaxus's modifications eleven to twelve thousand years before, Nightbeat could afford to skip a meal…provided he could actually get out of this heap. He listened to the two sets of footsteps grow quieter as Polar Claw and Rattrap retreated down the hall before even considering what needed to be done.

This Axalon appeared to be just a standard exploration vessel. Perhaps a bit on the large side, but otherwise standard, and certainly nothing here to suggest any sort of special reinforcement. He looked around the small room and based on what he saw, it was likely he was the first prisoner to be kept in here, so the walls and floor of this closet should definitely not have had any additional buttressing. He couldn't pound his way through it…even Sentinel Prime, Primus rest his arrogant spark, probably couldn't batter through the walls or floor of the room. Well, maybe he could, but there's no way these Maximals would think reinforcing the small room would be necessary for someone with Nightbeat's level of brawn. Of course, brains was a different matter, and one they completely overlooked.

He studied the vial of the native lifeblood he had been given for several minutes. It wasn't much energon, but if ignited it could definitely blast through the seams at a connection point in the floor and wall. And in liquid form, hitting that ignition point would be tricky without certain tools, but it would be possible; certainly far more possible than with crystals. In lieu of tools, all he had were non-essential anatomical components from his own frame. His visor and several redundant components he'd had installed prior to his initial open-ended off world mission were soon removed and cobbled together into a detonator of sorts. Well, a detonator was probably too fancy a name for what was essentially just a flare, but whatever he chose to call it, it should theoretically burn hot enough to ignite the energon.

He laid the vial on the floor against the wall opposite the door, propping it up just enough so that he could remove the vial cap without any spilling out, then arranged his makeshift flare, detonator, whatever, and once all that was in place he gently laid the overlooked metal tray on top of it all. He leaned over, paused before initiating the timer he had built into the detonator, and went through what he needed to do. He had paid attention when traveling here, he was roughly one hundred miles northwest of what the local humans called the Queen Elizabeth Islands, a part of the nation of Canada. That would be his first target once he got out of this ship. Unfortunately, getting free of this Axalon, even once he broke out of this room, was something he would have to play by ear. But delaying his escape attempt over concerns that he was unable to mitigate was pointless, so he leaned forward and activated the timer.

He had allowed himself thirty seconds to fully position and brace himself for the blast, but realized that five would have been more than enough. The subsequent twenty-five seconds seemed an eternity, but finally the flare activated and every sense he had was immediately overwhelmed as the energon ignited. His feet were braced against the metal tray, but the blast was still significant enough to send him hurtling backward into the door, leaving him momentarily stunned. He was dazed, his audio receptors were ringing, his movements slow and sluggish, and he was quickly feeling pain throughout his entire frame, but he was still conscious and aware of what needed to be done. The tray was in charred pieces, his feet were scorched and heavily dented as well but appeared to still be assembled as they should be and he was able to move them through the pain that was getting progressively worse as his senses slowly grew less dull. He scrambled to the blast point and smiled as he saw the metal seams torn apart. He immediately set upon the tear, bashing and pulling at the damaged metal to make the hole large enough for him to slip through. He bent it just enough to finally slide his body to the room below whatever was housed behind his 'cell'. He fell through and landed on the floor of the dark room with a thud, knocking over various tools as he jumped up to a standing position. He hobbled to the door and it opened at sensing his movement, leading him out into a well-lit hallway.

Twenty yards down the hall to his right a door on the opposite wall opened, and out trotted a very confused and worried Rattrap. "Predacon attack!" He yelled before catching sight of Nightbeat. "Oh, thank Prim…wait, what're you…" Nightbeat charged him and drove them both back into Rattrap's room, Nightbeat's left hand forming a tight seal over Rattrap's mouth.

"Sorry Rattrap, I do like you," Nightbeat said as he pulled his right fist back while pushing Rattrap against the wall of his room, "but, well," his fist drove into the much smaller robot's face and slamming the back of his head against the wall, leaving the small robot unconscious, "you know, escaping." Nightbeat carefully lowered the small Maximal to the floor and turned to leave, "Ahhh!" The mangled appearance of half of a monstrous green and yellow face startled the escaping prisoner, a shock exacerbated by the ship's alarms going off right at that moment. Nightbeat stumbled back away from the macabre mounted trophy and into the closet across the room, where he bumped into the contents causing more green and yellow body parts to fall on top of him. They were an odd mix of robotic and insect pieces, and he panicked to get away from the ghastly avalanche of frame parts. "Primus!" He growled to himself as he got to the center of the room and turned to look at the pile of components that appeared to have come from the same individual, though given the sheer number of pieces, this individual must have been mutilated, repaired, and mutilated again many times for there to be this many pieces. Nightbeat finally regained his composure and looked down at the dormant Rattrap. "You've got issues, pal." He looked back at the pile of parts one last time, but this time noted that mixed in with the grisly pile were several demolition charges. "Oh thank Primus." Nightbeat muttered as he scooped up two of them and headed out the door, cautiously making his way down the hall.

The blue and yellow robot limped his way quickly but stealthily down the hall, the alarm almost painfully bouncing against the walls. He had a rough knowledge of the layout of this type of ship, and made his way to the rec room. He knew the normal exit points would be sealed and guarded, but with these charges he'd poached from Rattrap, he should be able to make his own exit should he come across a weak point in the hull. Ports were made of transparent metal, which while strong, lacked the density to be truly durable. They almost always had a more traditional metal 'curtain' that could come down if there was any threat of breach, but for a ship long on the ground, there seemed no reason to have the shades drawn in the rec room. He saw it on the opposite end of the hallway he had just entered and hobbled faster toward the doorway. Fortunately the room was empty and the large transparent window was clear, the view of the artic north clearly visible. Nightbeat set the charges to 5 seconds each and planted them a few feet apart on the window. "There he is!"

Nightbeat turned to see a lean, athletic fifteen foot robot predominantly covered in bluish fur glaring at him from the door. Nightbeat looked back at the charges just feet away from him to see them down to four seconds, and then back to the blue Maximal before sprinting away from the window. The blue robot shot toward him and grabbed him, flinging him over a couch and to the floor. Nightbeat looked up at the grinning Maximal standing on the other side of the couch glaring down at him and raising his wrist to his face to speak. "In Rec Room Alpha, prisoner sec…"

Boom!

The blast sent the robot hurtling over the couch and into the wall opposite the now shattered window. Nightbeat, protected from the blast by the overturned couch, was immediately on his feet and sprinting toward the now exposed frozen wastes, but the opening would not be there for long as the breach had caused the safety protocols to draw the solid metal protective shields to close. Nightbeat dove through just before the top and bottom shields came together to seal off the outside. The Cybertronian fell ninety feet into a snowbank and rolled down and through it to the icy ground. He looked back at the Axalon before transforming and zipping around it to head south to the Queen Elizabeth Islands.

Roller Pax

He had never had anything against House Ambus, he had always liked them more than most houses, but after learning that Orion may be a Convoy he'd started taking up grudges that he felt a Convoy should have; Orion certainly wouldn't adopt and harbor these grudges, so it fell to Roller to do it for him. Obviously House Onyx was now even more on his shit list than they had already been…or at least they would have been were there any Onyx's left. But according to some historical interpretations, House Ambus was in a position to have detected Deathsaurus's march into their emirate on his way toward the Convoy lands that straddled the borders of Tyrest and the Tagan Heights, and chose to do nothing to aid the ancient and beloved house that long pre-dated the Knights. Despite this recently formed negative bias, Roller was pleasant to the tiny bearded green and white robot sitting across from he and Orion at their table against the wall of the pub they were in for one last, and in Orion's case, first vial of engex before the war began. Being pleasant seemed the least he could do in light of the fact that this robot was one of only two surviving members of House Ambus, even though he had hopped onto Elita's vacant seat a moment ago without invitation. "Everyone's looking to you." Minimus Ambus stated before taking a swig of his engex that he had carried over to their table with him, the container smaller than one Roller or Orion would use, but which was comically large in the hands of the diminutive royal. "You were common born, or so the initial assumption was, but raised by what most Cybertronians consider to be the most honorable House on the planet. At the very least it was an honorable house led by an Emir that ALL Cybertronians considered to be the most honorable Emir on the planet. Even without an actual birthright, or a formal adoption into House Pax, you were loved and respected enough to prompt afore mentioned most-honorable Emir Arlon Pax to defy the laws, social norms, and the Prime of Cybertron, knowing full well the likely outcome, to not only support you, but to say that you were a better example of all that is right and good and honorable than even he was."

"What's your point?" Roller said, noting the look of sadness and regret coming over Orion's face at the memory of Arlon's murder.

Minimus smiled sadly into his drink. "Just that I felt Orion Pax was worth meeting. And also, Emir Pax, I feel the need to point out that your…"

"Brother." Orion clarified at Minimus's brief pause and stretched left optic.

"Yes, your brother's very existence is…polarizing." Minimus replied. Roller had always been a bit self-conscious about his fourteen foot stature, but Minimus was barely half that height. Roller was just short enough to recognize an overcompensation due to small size, in this case it was Minimus's desire to be seen as smarter than everyone else. "He has great appeal to the masses due to his perceived common birth, galvanized by his affiliation with the now-vindicated Autobots. He also has great appeal to many of the more enlightened nobles and royals due to being raised by, respected by, and even loved by Arlon Pax. His brief but impressive attack on Megatron has also earned him the sparks and minds of many highborn, none more so than me…" The tiny robot stared sadly into his drink for a moment before continuing his thought. "And now there's the belief that he is born of Convoy metallico…"

"That barely qualifies as a rumor." Orion muttered.

"A rumor that's spread quickly and is widely believed." Minimus answered. "And a Convoy, the most ancient and beloved of Houses, the House that led the way in ridding us of the five-faced demons,"

"A myth." Orion muttered again.

"Violen Jiger kinda confirmed it though." Roller interjected.

"Thought we established he was at best an unreliable source." Orion quietly grumbled in reply.

Minimus smiled at the quiet bickering as he continued, "a Convoy that is born in recent times in an impossible place, in an impossible way, an event that defies everything we know to be true, and found by just the right member of just the right house…" Minimus Ambus paused dramatically and shook his head, "it's nothing short of awe-inspiring."

"Don't forget the green spark." Roller chimed in jokingly, giving the uncomfortable Orion a playful elbow to the side.

"Yes, of course, there is that as well." Minimus added with another sad smile.

Orion looked up, though just slightly, and peered intently into Minimus's face. "None of this sounds anything like a point, my lord."

"My point is, everyone is going to be looking to you, Orion Pax of House Convoy, or whoever you choose to be." Minimus replied.

"Orion Pax of Iacon." Orion replied. "It's who I am, it's how I would choose to be called."

"Ah, an interesting compromise; honoring your adopted family while still trying to sound like a commoner." Minimus mirthfully responded. "Very Autobot of you, but it doesn't quite work." The tiny robot rolled his head thoughtfully. "It does have a catchy ring to it though."

"Point." Roller grumbled.

Minimus smiled, cognizant that he was wearing on the nerves of the Paxes and then looked directly at Orion. "They will be looking to you for inspiration, they will be looking to you for leadership, they will be looking to you for protection and guidance and justice and everything else under the sun. And maybe they'll be right to do so, maybe they won't be, I genuinely have no idea. But if they ARE right to be looking to you, if you really ARE worthy of this attention and devotion on any level, it won't be because of destiny, or birthright, your metallico, your spark or whatever name you bear. It will be because you AREN'T good enough, but you strive to be."

"Excuse me?" Roller growled, outraged by the statement.

"Oh, he's beyond good enough in my optics and in yours, but it's his own optics that matter." Minimus replied, his optics locked onto Orion's once again, but continuing to answer Roller. "And for the good of our planet, I pray that the goal forever remains ahead of Orion, just outside his grasp. He will always drive himself to be better, to be braver, to be more intelligent, prepared, noble and self-sacrificing."

"Any more self-sacrificing and I'll be laying his corpse on the Pax metallico pool!" Roller snarled.

"It may come to that." Minimus replied, still staring intently at Orion. "It likely will come to that unfortunately. I pray it doesn't, he may not be the most fun drinking companion I've ever had, particularly since he doesn't seem to be drinking, but fun or not, I desperately want Orion to live through this ordeal. I want us all to live through it, but Orion strikes me as the type to put the survival of the rest of us before his own, so I'm less than optimistic for his continued existence. And it saddens me, even more so than I already am to think on it. Cybertron is a better place with him in it, and not only because he's proven adept at killing sparkeaters." The tiny royal looked back up at Orion's face, a look of sadness etched clearly on Minimus's mustachioed and bearded face. "But if Cybertron is to survive, Orion Pax and others like him must continue to do what he's always done. What you did at Tyger Pax you must continue to do, and be seen doing it. Put yourself in harm's way, inspire others to do the same, and maybe some of us will be alive at the end of all this."

"You want him to live, but you're telling him to die." Roller grumbled.

"I want him to always live to see another day, but we need for him to continue to be the hero he's been, and more importantly, to be the motivating figure everyone sees him as." Minimus clarified. "We've been fortunate that so many of your exploits have been recorded and seen by the masses,"

"Not punching Lugnut." Roller chuckled quietly.

"Thank Primus for that." Orion replied with an equally quiet chuckle.

Minimus looked from one brother to the other and smiled, allowing them their private joke before continuing. "Through no intent of your own, you've become an inspiration to so many on this world, to the point where a fifteen year old, barely a legal adult, who's spent fourteen of those years exiled off world, will be leading hundreds, possibly thousands into battle in mere hours."

"I'm not leadi…" Orion sighed in exasperation, "look, I'm part of the attack planning committee, I offer insights into the sparkeaters as Roller, Kup, Omega Supreme and I are the only ones to have faced them and lived, and I may be given command over a squad, or maybe even a platoon, but there's no way I'm lea…"

"I've heard whispers that the Autobots are planning on naming you their military commander." Minimus shot back with a smile.

"What? I've spent a combined total of a few days in their ranks!" Orion protested.

"Plus it just seems unnatural for a commoners-rights organization to be led by someone named Orion Pax of House Convoy." Roller chuckled.

"I thought we'd covered what my name is." Orion grumbled quietly at his brother.

"It's just what I've heard." Minimus shrugged. "And I've heard other whispers that you may have a few hundred Maximals on the cusp of swearing allegiance to you as well."

"Even I predicted that would happen." Roller chuckled.

"So you will have armies of your own, and even outside of Autobots and Maximals, people will be looking to you." Minimus continued. "Millions will think of you as special in some way." The tiny robot stood up on his chair and then stepped onto the table, crossing it and pointing directly into the crest of Orion's post-protoformal helmet. "But in here, make sure that you're not. By all means, be confident in your considerable abilities, but great people stop being great the moment they realize how great they are, so continue to focus on your shortcomings and how to remove them."

"Why is Minimus Ambus standing on our table?" Elita asked as she arrived with a tray containing three mid-sized vials of engex.

"He's punctuating his request for Orion to stay humble by touching his head." Roller replied with a smirk, the comment causing Minimus to turn and smile at him before looking to Elita.

"Elita One, I…" his face lowered for a moment before looking back into her optics, "House Ambus, what's left of it anyway, sends its sympathies to…" his voice cracked, he couldn't go on.

"I know my lord." Elita sadly replied, her hand finding its way to his tiny shoulder and gently cupping it. "There's no need for words, just know that House Sol…that I offer the same condolences. In time both Ambus and Solus will rebuild, and House Ambus will always have a friend in Hyperious."

"Thank you, my One." Minimus looked up at her. "If I may ask…what was it like to kill them?"

Elita stared at him intently before answering. "I didn't kill them all. I didn't kill enough, but…I'm ashamed to say that killing those I did get ahold of was…it felt good." She turned her head.

"Thank you my lady." Minimus turned to look across the bar at a large, predominantly blue robot with a mustache and beard identical to his own. "It appears my Emir and kinsman Dominus has finally pulled himself away from Delta Magnus." The tone was less than approving.

"You're not fond of Emir Magnus?" Elita asked as she took her seat. "You know that if we get through this, he's likely to be named Prime."

"I'll not be the one to nominate him." Minimus replied as he leapt from the table to the floor. "I'm not particularly fond of religious zealots. I bid you all a fine day." With that he walked across the pub to the powerfully built blue robot that was roughly three times his height.

"That's gotta be tou…" Roller started saying before realizing the surviving Ambus's loss was no different than that of the femme seated to his left at the circular table. "Oh, sorry El."

"I know, and it is tough." She replied sadly, Orion reaching over to cover her hand on the table. She smiled up at him. "But we're not dwelling on that now. We've come from a period of death, and we'll be diving into another period of death. Right now, we celebrate life." She raised her glass, prompting the other two to do the same. "And the return of dear friends."

"I think this is a bad idea, we're planning on leaving in a few hours for battle." Orion stated as he held his glass in front of him.

"You're not going to imbibe that much." Elita replied.

"I think he's scared of it." Roller joked.

"I consumed nothing but Junkion swill for fourteen years, believe me, I'm not afraid of this dainty slush." Orion chuckled back.

"Just be warned, you drink enough of that and Elita will have no problem getting into your spark casing."

"You're disgusting." Elita snapped at Roller.

"Roller!" Orion snarled.

"What?" Roller shrugged. "You're old enough to do it, we're all definitely old enough to joke about it." He then looked at Orion. "You do realize that it's really a thing, right?"

Orion's optics grew wide. "Of course I know! I've seen the damage it can do."

"Damage?" Roller was genuinely surprised. "Yeah, there's a bit of disorientation afterward, I wouldn't suggest racing through the streets immediately after you're done doing it, but there's really no damage."

"Roller," Elita calmly replied as she understood the confusion, "while we were in Rodion one time, our first meeting actually, Orion and I came across a situation where it was forced on someone."

"Forced?" Roller answered in surprise. "How could they tear through the plating? Was there a hatch? I couldn't do it. Heck, you'd have to be almost as strong as Ori…"

"It was Overlord." Orion stated.

"That giant shitbag with the Decepticons?" Roller shot back startled, then shrugged. "Yeah, I can see that."

"But Orion," Elita turned to the red and blue returning former fugitive, "it's not always forced. In fact, I've heard it can be wonderful."

"It is." Roller chuckled as he raised his glass to his lips, imbibing a nice long swig before putting his glass back down on the table and noticing the other two looking at him with an unsaid question in their optics. "What?"

"It is?" Orion mimicked Roller's comment with a questioning twist at the end.

"Something you wish to elaborate on, Emir Pax?" Elita asked.

Roller looked back and forth between them as a smile slowly started to spread over his face. He finally shrugged. "Well El, you and I have never really been ones to share deepest and darkests," he turned to Orion, "and you've been incommunicado for fourteen years."

"Whose fault is that?" Orion grumbled back good-naturedly.

"That's open to debate, but if you'd like to change course and discuss that…"

"No!" Both Elita and Orion nearly shouted back. Elita continued with an incredulous grin. "We're not changing the subject, now spill."

"You'd better do it, she's an emir." Orion stated.

"I'm an emir!" Roller replied.

"Yeah, but she has the Apex Armor, so just do as she says." Orion finished with a wide grin.

"Fine," Roller feigned displeasure, pointing at Orion, "but I need you to be clear on something, absolutely clear, OK?"

"Uhm, OK, what do I need to be clear on?" A confused Orion asked.

"You've got one girl, Elita, right?" Roller pressed. "Everyone else on Cybertron is fair game, right?"

Orion was even more confused, and distracted as he fielded an almost accusatory look from Elita. "Of course, I'm not interested in anyone else."

"I don't think he even knows any other femmes." Elita replied, half joking but half worried. "Seriously, what other femme has he ever cared about?"

"Holy Primus!" Orion snarled, then lowered his voice so that even the other two had trouble hearing him. "Don't tell me Torenia!"

"Tor…come on Orion, you're a scumbag for even imagining that!" Roller shot back, genuinely offended.

"Well who else is there?" Orion questioned. "One of the seventeen other Pax femmes? You never met and I don't remember mentioning any of the femmes I worked with in Iacon or Rodion."

"Nope." Roller replied, a grin sliding slowly across his face. "This is a Polarus girl."

Orion pondered that. "I don't know any Polar…ohhhh." A look of realization dawned on him and Roller started laughing. "No way, Ariel?"

"Ha! Yep!" Roller replied heartily.

"Damn Brother, good job!" Orion slapped Roller on the shoulder.

"Who's Ariel?" Elita asked, still slightly suspicious despite Orion clearly bearing nothing akin to jealousy.

"Ariel, well, she'd have been you in a different life." Roller chuckled. "Orion's girlfriend that is."

"No, she was very pretty and very sweet, but I was never interested in her." Orion replied calmly, but still sent a nervous look toward Elita to gauge her reaction.

"Well, she was interested in you." Roller replied. "I snuck out a lot while you were in Iacon and later Rodion, and Dion and I would frequently wind up at the Wolf at the Door, and every slagging time Ariel would ask how you were and when you'd be back. And after…well, you know, I kinda went on weapons acquisition mode, which involved Dion, and we did a lot of our planning at the Wolf, and eventually Ariel got on board and helped us out, and she did ask about you from time to time, buuuutttttt, well, over the years she and I started to get closer, we started to share things, lingering stares, suggestive playful comments, and then one night we were kissing. No big deal, but a few nights later we were kissing again. And then every time we saw each other we'd find some time to make out. And then we started scheduling meetings that had nothing to do with Sentinel-busting preparation, we were just meeting to meet, and then she mentioned it, and after a lot of time and discussion,"

"Bullshit." Orion interrupted.

"OK, fine, it was the next day, and the only reason we waited that long is because she chose to bring it up two minutes before I needed to head back to Tyger Pax." Roller shook his head at Orion. "Know-it-all jackass."

"Never claimed to know it all, I just know you." Orion chuckled.

"Shaddup." Roller snapped. "You want to hear the rest or not?"

"By all means, please continue." Orion raised his hands defensively.

"Holy weld slag, it's true!" A voice unknown to Roller called out from the doorway of the bar before he could continue. Orion and Elita reacted immediately to it, their head's twisting in a blur to view the speaker, and based on their reactions it was clear that they knew the voice well.

"Ratchet!" Elita called out as she sprung from her seat, toppling her chair, Orion right behind her. She threw herself into Ratchet's awaiting arms and they embraced tightly.

"I'm so sorry to hear about Exp…your entire House." Ratchet muttered, his nearly whispered comment was heard by most as the pub had gone silent at Elita and Orion charging across the large room.

"You were his dearest friend." She whispered back sadly.

"He always knew you'd be able to activate the armor." Ratchet replied as he pulled back and kissed her gently on the forehead. His optics darted over to catch the sight of Orion Pax. "Damn it boy, I mourned you every day for fourteen years." He released Elita and pulled the larger Orion into a tight hug, one that Orion reciprocated with equal intensity. "I never was religious until word came in yesterday that you were still alive. Thank any and all gods you weren't taken from us."

"I missed you too, old bot." Orion replied as they pulled back, he looked over his friend and his optics settled on a feature on his shoulder that hadn't been there the last time they had seen each other. "You're an Autobot now?" He asked loudly as he pressed his fingers against the red face of the Common Man etched onto his shoulder.

"Yeah, seeing you take a stand against Sentinel Prime kind of spurred something in me." Ratchet said, then reached over and flipped a piece of thin dermal plating above the brand that fell over it to hide it. "Though until word it was the gladiators behind the terrorist acts gained widespread acceptance a few days ago, I needed to be cautious about who saw this on me." A quick tap and the plating receded back to re-reveal the red face.

"I'd like for you to put one on my shoulder." Orion stated. "It's long past due."

Ratchet smiled. "Glad to hear you say that. Very appropriate actually. There's a bunch of Autobots outside right now, they know we used to be tight,"

"Still are."

Ratchet smiled even more broadly. "Yeah, anyway, they want me to ask you something."

"You mean Ambus was right?" Roller said as he approached the three.

Ratchet pulled back from Orion and gave Roller a quick once-over. "Nice to finally meet you, Emir Pax."

"For you it's just Roller." Roller offered his wrist in greeting. "You're family to Orion, you're family to me."

Ratchet smiled and nodded as they shook wrists. "Always room for more family, though I think I'll hold off on taking the Pax designation, don't want people thinking of multiple packages of ratchets when they hear my name." He gave the shorter emir a light-hearted slap on the shoulder before getting a bit more serious. "Not sure what Ambus said, or even which Ambus you're talking about, though unfortunately there's only a fifty-fifty chance of me guessing wrong."

"You're going to ask him to be military commander of the Autobots, aren't you?" Roller asked.

Ratchet shrugged. "Yep." He turned to Orion. "Don't know where you've been these last fourteen years, but according to Blaster, wherever it was you were a general in a war."

Orion nodded. "Something like that."

"There's the experience. That was the only missing ingredient. You've always had brains and grit galore." Ratchet said. "Come on out, I think the boys want to be the ones to formally offer you the position."

"I don't even know most of them." Orion protested lightly.

"You asked for the brand, so it's no longer them, it's us now, boy." Ratchet said as he took Orion by the arm and led him to the door. "And even after well over a decade, I still don't know most of us." They stepped outside into the rising sunlight, and there to greet them were over two hundred robots, all bearing the faces of the Common Man, or what had taken to being called the Autobrand in recent years. In front were Prowl, Jazz, Blaster, and Wheeljack. "Something you lowborn lads wish to ask Lord Pax of House Convoy?"

"Don't call me that." Orion grumbled quietly, eliciting a laugh from Ratchet and the other Autobots close enough to hear the comment.

"There is." Jazz replied after his light chuckle, stepping forward. "On paper, this is a terrible idea. Taking your fourteen year hiatus out of the equation, I can count the number of days you've been our ally on the fingers of one hand, and that's as an ally; you've never become an Autobot."

"About that, Jazz," Ratchet cut in, "he asked me to give him the brand in there, before he knew you were here waiting to discuss something."

Jazz nodded. "Good to hear, that makes this a little less insane I guess. It's still insane, but slightly less than before." He then looked intently at Orion. "So despite you only recently deciding to join us, and your age, and your affiliation with one or possibly two high houses, and the fact that you arrested several of us, kicking my ass in particular," light laughter wafted through the crowd, "despite all that, we Autobots would name you our military commander for the coming war with the sparkeaters. That is, if you'd be open to the responsibility."

Orion looked over the assembled Autobots, despite being forewarned by Minimus Ambus of this possibility he seemed stunned. Ratchet leaned in close. "It's a lot to take in Orion, but we need you."

Prowl stepped forward and leaned up to whisper to Orion as well, though Ratchet, Elita and Roller were all close enough to hear his words. "It's more symbolic than anything, Lord Pax. You will have command, your words will carry the weight of your position, but you will have many advisors, myself in that number, so you won't be on your own by any means."

"Symbolic?" Roller asked.

Prowl shifted his gaze to take in the Emir of The Torus Heights. "Yes, symbolically Orion is of great value to the Autobot cause and the war effort as a whole. The status of his origin is a mystery, and his perceived indifference to a potential high birth reinforces the legitimacy of our stance for total legal equality. If someone as intelligent and respected as Orion Pax puts our cause ahead of ascending to the head of an ancient and celebrated house, our cause cannot be ignored. And let's not forget that Arlon Pax's dying words were praising his actions and supporting our cause. And while all this would normally cheese off the highborn, his actions against Megatron seems to have won them over as well. As for the coming fight, he's the only one in fifteen million years to have killed a sparkeater, and he rescued Omega Supreme while doing so."

"Hey, I helped with that, thank you very much!" Roller protested jokingly.

"That's right, thank you for the reminder, Emir Pax." Prowl answered. "Having an unshakable relationship with the only royal house not to have been decimated by the Decepticons is an added boost to Orion's symbolism. Then there are the non-symbolic reasons; namely that I've seen his post-protoformal test scores and had a hand in training him." He looked up at Orion. "So what is your answer, Orion? Will you lead us?"

Orion looked over the Autobots for a few moments before finally nodding. "Aye, I accept the honor of being your military commander." He looked over to Ratchet as the Autobots started to applaud. "Guess there's no backing out of that brand now."

The applause quickly subsided as another large group approached, a group made up of a few dozen Cybertronians mixed evenly between humanoid robotic modes and bestial shell-modes. At the front were two robots, both with a lighter shade against a dark red, one with a very light gray covering most of his moderate frame along with the red, the other a cream and little bit of pale green mixed with the red of his hulking frame. They were immediately recognized as Maximals, legend had it that their ancestors were lowly and discriminated Nyonians who House Convoy offered sanctuary on their lands. Leaving the torment suffered under House Onyx and finding themselves welcomed as equals by an influential house on fertile lands was overwhelming to the ancestors of what would one day become Maximals, and their loyalty to House Convoy never diminished, even after the destruction of their breeding pool and holdings. Only two Convoy and several hundred Maximals survived after Deathsaurus's assault, and they were once again given sanctuary, this time by House Maximus of The Decagon. They were given scenic and abundant lands to the east of Protihex, lands with four hotspots for the refugees to claim as their own, three of which have gone barren and four new ones have come in to being in the twelve million years since they settled the land. To honor their saviors they took the name Maximals, but their true loyalty has always been to House Convoy.

"We would have words with the one called Orion Pax!" The hulking red and cream Maximal called out as they came to a stop next to the group of Autobots.

"I am Orion Pax." Orion replied.

"We know who you are." The other lead Maximal, horns jutting out of his right forearm, called back in reply. "And more importantly, we know what you are."

"And here it comes." Roller whispered.

"We can speak in private if you'd like." Orion replied to the Maximals, ignoring Roller's comment.

"Nay," the powerfully built robot replied, "as the Autobots declared publicly for you, so shall we." As one, all the Maximals dropped to their knees, even those in beast modes. "We Maximals have waited over one million years for a Convoy to return. You, Orion Pax, are undoubtedly of Convoy metal. We pledge ourselves to your service, we will fight and die for you."

"Please stand for me!" Orion protested, then looked to everyone gathered near the front of the pub, dozens of observers who were neither Autobot nor Maximal had been drawn in by their curiosity at the expanding crowd. "As an Autobot, as a Convoy," he looked over and placed his hand on Roller's shoulder and smiled, "and as a Pax, I will make it my goal to create a world where nobody ever need kneel before another."

"A very noble aspiration, Orion Pax." A voice called out before the crowd could react. Everyone turned to see Ultra Magnus standing off to the side of the building. "But it's going to have to wait. We've received word that the sparkeaters are on the move. If we're going to be entrenched near Peptex when they arrive there, we'd better move now. So get the Autobots, and the Maximals, and whoever else has sworn loyalty to you in the twenty four hours you've been on world, and prepare to move out."

Orion smiled. "Aye sir, we'll be ready to ship out within the hour."

Magnus looked to Roller and Elita. "You too, Elita One and Emir Pax, have your forces ready for travel."

"Yes Lord Magnus." Elita replied, then looked to Orion with a sad smile.

"Well O, looks like you've got your work cut out for you." Roller piped up as he slapped his brother on the upper arm. "Two armies to organize, I suspect the Maximus's will help with transporting the Maximals, and the Autobots are better equipped now than most high houses, but still, you're going to be a very busy boy from this point on. I'll send Torenia your love." Roller turned and headed off toward the side of the building, hoping Orion and Elita would be granted a moment in private to say good bye, but he knew that was a long shot at best. "Hey Lord Magnus, wait up!" He trotted quickly to catch up to Ultra Magnus. "Think we're headed in the same direction, and was wondering what sort of plan your Emir has come up with." The two high-born transformed and drove off.

The ride back to the command center was uneventful, Ultra Magnus's description of Delta Magnus's plans had not changed in the few hours since their last meeting. The base was chaos around them as warriors of all sorts were preparing to go north and civilians were preparing to go south. Roller even caught sight of Omega Supreme being strapped to the hull of a civilian freighter bound for Hyperious. The dark blue emir lamented that they couldn't make use of Omega Supreme for this battle, but thanked the miracle that he was still alive. With the engineers and smiths of Hyperious working on him, he'd be battle ready in a few months, possibly several weeks if they were lucky. And hopefully they wouldn't even need him to win this war. He and Orion acting alone had dealt the monsters a significant blow, the combined forces of Cybertron should make short work of the beasts.

As expected, the soldiers of The Torus Heights were ready to go, and they wound up having to wait for the other houses and organizations before taking off an hour later. Several of the decimated houses had to use what transports they had to ferry any surviving assets to the south, so some of those willing to fight requested a ride to Peptex aboard one of the House Pax ships, so Roller found himself once again sitting across from Minimus Ambus, this time aboard the Stellar Spear and with Dominus Ambus seated to Minimus's left. Roller studied the Emir of Tyrest, the brilliant Dominus Ambus, perhaps the only individual his kinsman Minimus would concede was smarter than himself. Dominus Ambus bore a powerful blue frame, similar in many ways to Orion's, just a couple feet shorter, a bit less bulky in the chest, shoulders and limbs, and less tapered through the mid-section, but still an imposing and impressive physique. Even their vehicular modes were similar. But facially, they were very different. True, he and Minimus both bore the traditional Ambus post-protoformal helmet and head crest which was not vastly different from the Convoy helm that Orion bore, but their beard and mustache adornments, as well as Dominus's dark yellow optics were very different from Orion's facial features. "We appreciate you providing passage to us and our retainers, Emir Pax." The bearded Dominus stated.

"Of course, Emir Ambus, it was the least we could do." Roller replied. "Though I had thought you to have been in the company of House Magnus."

Dominus nodded and gave his kinsman a sideways glance that conveyed a sense of frustration. "Lord Minimus took it upon himself to offend Emir Magnus's priestess, and we felt it best we find a different way to Peptex."

Roller nodded and gave a subtle smile to Minimus. He too was not fond of the tall priestess. "I understand. It's a short trip anyway, we should be there soon." Roller turned to gaze through the window. The sky was cluttered with large freighters, mid-sized passenger craft, a handful of smaller ships, with the occasional military vessel coasting north through the clouds with them. Zipping through the transports were several dozen Cybertronians in jet modes, most, to Roller's chagrin, bore the face of the Warrior on their wings. Another hour and a half later they were coming upon the plains outside of Peptex, and the landing and disembarking began. Roller never did catch sight of Orion prior to the battle, but he would not have had time for anything more than a quick 'hello', as the battle preparations were daunting and rushed, as he had no doubt they were for Orion and his two factions. But they were eventually as prepared as they could have hoped to be, just as the sounds of thousands of marching feet could be heard. "Here they come." He called out to the Pax forces and others around them.

From the northwest they came, tens of thousands of forms marching along the coast. "Your orders, Emir Pax?" Stronghold Pax asked as he walked up to Roller from behind.

"You've mounted the long range cannons, right?" Roller asked.

"Of course sir, though it seems beyond odd that these weapons we've procured over the years are mounted in Nova Cronum and pointed toward The Torus Heights." Stronghold chuckled, his statement getting a short laugh out of Roller as well.

"Yeah, this is not how I envisioned us using them as I smuggled them into our borders over the years." Roller replied. "I know they're a ways out, but see about targeting the giants. The demons, primordials or whatever they're called. They have a dermis like the walls of Tyger Pax, but if you kill them, they stay dead, and they're too powerful to let get close to us."

"And what if the sparkeaters get close?" Roadbuster asked as he too approached from behind them, his optics locked onto the distant mass of enemies.

"We need them to get close." Roller replied. "Can't kill them if they're not close. Need to penetrate their armor and destroy their sparks. Anything else will just leave them to heal and continue their attack, and whatever ordinance we used on them will have been wasted." Explosions began going off within the enemy ranks, and it was quickly apparent that fliers, likely Decepticons, were attacking the oncoming horde.

"Let's hope Megatron isn't wasting ordinance." Stronghold muttered.

"Megatron may be the most vile piece of shit on the planet, but if the last few days have taught us anything," Roller replied in a grumble as he pulled out some view-enhancers and put them over his optics, "he's beyond competent in military matters." Roller studied the scene in the distance his enhanced sight was offering him, and noted that yes, the fliers were targeting the giant monstrous demons. The creatures were weathering the assault quite well unfortunately, and three of the more daring Cybertronian fliers flew close enough to be impacted by the beasts energy-draining abilities, two wobbling away back into the clouds, but one unable to overcome the drain and crashing to the ground, immediately set upon by vicious sparkeaters.

Roller then noticed four shapes burst forth from the rear of the mass of creatures and shoot into the sky, two dark sleek winged forms engaged the Cybertronian fliers, as did a bright yellow and white winged jet similar in shape to the modern Cybertronian fliers, and a black helicopter of sorts. The Cybertronian fliers engaged the four fliers of the demon army and pelted them with various ordinance, but the attacks did little good against them. The aerial demon's returned fire, but their ordinance was minimal and after several ineffective strafes they started bearing down on and colliding with the Cybertronians. The long wings of the largest winged-enemy sliced into the coalition fliers and made them drop from the sky, and to Roller's horror, he saw the damage done to the opposing jet seem to immediately heal itself. "Slag, they're flying sparkeaters! At least that one is!"

"Thought they didn't bother with alt modes." Roadbuster questioned.

"Never said they didn't have them, just that outside Jiger's bug modes we didn't see any." Roller snapped as the Cybertronian fliers turned away from the fight and returned to their comrades, allowing the sparkeaters to continue their march toward the rest of them. "Doesn't matter, vehicle modes or not, we'll take them. We outnumber them, we're far more technologically advanced than the armies that beat them fifteen million years ago, we already know how to kill them, and there's only one direction for them to go right now. We're gonna win, trust me, we're gonna win. Now, once their fliers get into range, target them and bring them down."

"Thought it was a waste of ordinance." Stronghold replied.

"You blast their wings to shreds, and they'll heal, but not til after they crash." Roller answered. "Once they're on the ground, we can gut them and take their sparks."

"Works for me." Stronghold responded before nodding to a Pax guard mounted on a long range cannon. Aside from the helicopter, the demon fliers returned to the ground, transformed and marched onward with their comrades. The black helicopter continued over their army, keeping pace with the monsters below it.

They didn't have to wait long, within a few minutes the monsters had covered nearly half of the distance separating the armies and the fight was just minutes from commencing in earnest. "Sprocket, are you and the other ships ready?" Roller asked into his wrist communicator.

"Yes sir, the Stellar Spear is primed and ready, and all other pilots here are champing at the bit awaiting Emir Magnus's order." The voice came back.

"I'd expect it to come through any moment." Roller answered.

Not ten seconds passed before… "All craft, take to the sky and obliterate them. They're now too close to make an effective retreat, so soften them up for us!" The voice of Delta Magnus erupted through all channels. A few seconds more and the sounds of various attack and armed transport ships were heard approaching and then shooting overhead toward the enemy forces. They immediately laid into the sparkeater army with enough ordinance to devastate cities, causing hundreds of mutants to die within the opening minutes of the barrage and half of the few dozen demons to drop to the ground. The hundreds of sparkeaters broke ranks and charged forward maniacally toward the army of the living, causing the Cybertronians to open fire on the charging beasts. The handheld weaponry had minimal effect on them, and within moments the monsters were leaping into the ranks of the Cybertronian warriors, wreaking havoc.

Roller charged forward toward a pair of sparkeaters that had breached the Pax lines, grenade launcher in one hand and an irradiated dagger in the other. One of the sparkeaters had pounced upon the House Pax communications specialist Playback, a Nova Cronum commoner who had spent vorns in Iacon working for a vidfeed service but had come to Polarus for a fresh start six vorns ago, and had proven competent enough to work for the royal house of The Torus Heights. He cried out in pain as the sparkeater tore his chest open, but the beast paused before tearing further into his chest, sniffing the open wound before looking up and letting out a terrifying shriek. The creature then turned away from the injured Playback, who was reduced to clutching his mangled chest and moaning in agony, and leapt toward the hulking Roadbuster who was charging toward it. Its attack on Roadbuster was interrupted by a round from Roller's grenade launcher impacting the beast's chest and sending it sprawling across the ground. Immediately Roadbuster and Inferno were hacking at it with irradiated swords in an attempt to cut it open. The blade did slice through the metal dermis of the horrifying creature, but the beast fought back, smashing the both of them away and then charging Roller, the wounds stitching back together as he charged.

Roller stabbed at it, but while the blade cut into its abdomen, the beast seemed not to notice at all as its fingers tore into Roller's upper chest armor. "Argh!" Roller cried out in pain, but weapons fire from different directions forced the sparkeater back a few steps, giving Roller to raise his grenade launcher and fire it at point blank range into the creature's face. The explosion sent Roller flying back, momentarily knocked unconscious, fluttered back in and out of consciousness as he bounced across the ground. He looked up to see the headless sparkeater thrashing about on the ground just a few feet from the still groaning Playback as Pax warriors swarmed it, hacking and slashing. A second sparkeater leapt upon the soldiers assaulting his comrade and tore Inferno's arm off at the shoulder socket. The soldiers began combatting the second monster, leaving the headless first on the ground writhing next to Playback as its body stitched itself back together. Roller, still quite dazed, saw the shredded chest and immediately pulled himself up and lunged at the wounded beast, dagger in hand.

He swatted away the creature's mangled left arm and drove his irradiated blade into the creature's chest, pulling back and hacking away until enough of the chest cavity was open and exposed for him to reach in and grab the spark chamber. Orion had made it look so much easier than the task actually was, as his most powerful yanks proved nowhere near sufficient to jar the most critical of organs loose. Roller looked up at the quickly reassembling face of the creature, and knew his time was about up, but looked over and noticed several handheld demolition charges on a belt strapped around Playback a few feet away. Roller lunged toward his comrade, ripped two charges from the belt, activated them, thrust his hands back into the sparkeater's chest, pulled his empty but gore-covered hands free of the monster's chest, and lunged back toward Playback, lifting him as best he could and dragging him away from the healing beast as quickly as he could. They were roughly thirty yards away when the mangled but nearly reformed sparkeater got back to his feet and managed to peer at them with a partially reformed optic. That optic stretched wide as it felt something, and a moment later his torso exploded, sending chunks everywhere, and throwing Roller and Playback to the metal and rock ground. Roller looked over at various pieces of the sparkeater, terrified they'd start being pulled back together, but this time there was no movement.

"Ya…you killed it." Playback muttered through his pain as Roller pulled himself back up and started to help Playback up as well.

A huge gray foot came out of nowhere and slammed into Roller's back, sending him bouncing across the ground again. "Yes, he killed it." A deep voice grumbled a reply to Playback's observation. Roller twisted his head and peered at the owner of the foot that had left a big painful dent in his back, and felt the fear well up at recognizing the creature as the sparkeater that had transformed into the largest of their jets. The creature possessed nearly the same stature as Delta Magnus, but impossibly he seemed to exude even more power, and unlike any sparkeater Roller had seen other than Violen Jiger, this one's optics, that were now boring into his own, possessed intelligence. "It makes its discovery of you nothing more than a wash." The hulking gray creature, a massive but odd sword that bowed out like an axe blade at the tip clutched tightly in his right hand, turned down toward Playback. "Unless of course you can prove to me that you're brilliant in the next five seconds."

"Whah?" Playback stammered out, then turned to look at Roller. "Emir Pax, I don…". He turned back to the monster standing over him as Roller pushed to get back to his feet, but the agony in his back forced him to stop. "Wha, I…I, I'm smart. I mean, smarter than average."

"Not smart enough!" The hulking and talking sparkeater roared impatiently as he drove the clawed fingers of his left hand into the much smaller robot's chest, and into what Roller knew to be his spark chamber.

"No!" Roller yelled as he forced himself up through the pain and started stumbling over to the assault. He looked around on the ground for a weapon, and caught sight of a rifle. He leaned over to pick it up, but watched it explode before his hand got to it. He looked back up at the giant sparkeater, just now noticing that in addition to the oddly shaped sword in the creature's right hand, it also had a small fusion cannon on his right forearm. Worse, it was a portable fusion cannon Roller recognized, one that he had bought years ago for the defense of Tyger Pax and one of the few weapons he had left behind when he had needed to evacuate the compound.

The hulking creature grinned at him with yellow fangs lining its mouth. "Emir Pax, is it? Then I should thank you for this cannon, folds up nicely in the jet the master had my shell mode built into in the medical facility at your home. You wiped nearly everything from Tyger Pax's databases, but our new thralls were able to pull up adequate specifications from…the Cybertronian Datanet, is that it?" The creature looked down at Playback, the struggling ceased and waves of energy rolling across his optics, a low murmur coming from his lips but otherwise he seemed catatonic.

"Get off of him!" Roller growled as he continued to march toward the beast.

"If I stop now, he'll linger somewhere between his previous state and what could have been his future state…if he's lucky. Part prey, part predator, but less than either. Perhaps if the master were interrupted making him into something like me, well, he'd be far less than Aswang, but he'd be more than you. But for either scenario he would have to be very fortunate. In all likelihood, he'd just be a tremoring wreck that would never recover in any discernable way." The creature nodded at his victim below before raising his head toward Roller. "It's best for him if you allow me to finish. It will only be a moment or two more." The beast then started chuckling at seeing Roller continue his slow, painful advance. "You must be joking. You were healthy, had allies and powerful weapons, and barely were able to kill the mindless Vrykol that brought this one to my attention. What chance do you think you have against not only an Aswang, but the master's most powerful commander?"

"I said," Roller stumbled toward the massive creature and raised his fist in a futile show of aggression, "get off of him!"

The creature laughed as he rose to his full height, drawing his fingers from Playback's chest. "You get your wish, spawn of Paxus, finished I am with your former servant, in moments he will rise to serve my master."

Roller looked down at Playback, and could see the metamorphosis taking place. "What have you done to him?"

"Gave him the means to live up to his potential…" the beast shrugged, "well, some of it anyway. Those with the ability to accept the gift can theoretically become Aswang, but only Violen Jiger can create the greater of our species, and only those worthy are chosen for the honor. Otherwise, they become a soldier in our ranks of Vrykol, virtually mindless, but powerful and virtually unkillable."

"I think we both know that claim to be inaccurate." Roller snarled as he looked back up at the massive creature. "Well Aswang,"

"I did say 'virtually', didn't I? I am Bloodron, right hand of the master." The giant who stood twice Roller's height, folded his arms as the battle raged around them. "This is more discussion than I normally give those I'm about to kill, but you are apparently ruler of your territory, you are a descendant of a warrior I respected, and you've shown great courage." A screech identical to the one emitted by the sparkeater that had first pounced on Playback was heard across the battlefield, prompting Bloodron to look up and toward the direction it came from. "I'll let one of the others turn that one." He then looked back down at Roller and raised his odd sword high above his head, but he was set upon by fourteen northern warriors before he could bring it down. Stronghold Pax and a one-armed Inferno grabbed Roller to drag him away.

This Bloodron easily battered away his assailants, slicing the torsos of two northern soldiers in half with a single massive swing. "We must get you back, Emir Pax!" Inferno muttered as he and Stronghold pulled the struggling Roller away.

"No! I fight with my army!" Roller protested, but looked up as two more shrieks came out from different points on the battlefield. Those two were followed by two more at other points in the chaos.

Bloodron swatted away several other northern soldiers before letting out a snarl, leaping to the air, transforming and shooting out toward the sparkeater that emitted one of the shrieks. "Where the hell is he going?" Stronghold asked.

"The sparkeaters, the dumb feral ones, the…Vrykol, they made that noise when they find one of us that can be turned into one of them." Roller explained as he pushed against his protectors, who were no longer pushing against him, and started walking back toward the chaos. "One of those super-sparkeaters, Aswangs, then turn the Cybertronian into a sparkeater. I guess they can only make the feral kinds, but Violen Jiger can make more of the super-sparkeaters."

"So there was someone here for him to 'make'?" One of the soldiers that had been fighting Bloodron asked.

"Yes," Roller replied, realizing something and looking beyond the soldiers to see a hideous form standing beyond them, a hideous form that had once been Playback. "Watch out!" Roller yelled, but Playback was already pouncing on one of the soldiers, tearing his back open and wrenching his spark chamber out, then tearing it open and swallowing the blue orb within. "Take him down!"

While their numbers had been insignificant to Bloodron, the remaining eleven soldiers surrounding Playback were able to tackle and subdue him, while Roller, Stronghold and Inferno charged forward to help. Stronghold raised a sword high above his head. "Clear a path, boys!" The soldiers split to give him access, and he drove his blade into the newly born sparkeater's chest, piercing his spark chamber, but not fully destroying the spark, leaving Playback as savage and snarling as before. But his arms and legs were still pinned, and Stronghold twisted his blade while other soldiers proceeded to hack away as well. Roller twisted further, finally overwhelming the spark and causing it to explode, sending the northern soldiers and Playback's bodyparts flying in all directions.

Roller gingerly pushed himself back to his feet and turned to look out over other portions of the battlefield, and despite the pain coursing through him, was hit with a wave of optimism. The sparkeaters had broken through their ranks, the horrific Vrykol tearing through Cybertronians, the brutish Mutants savagely attacking fearlessly but held back for the most part and sustaining heavy casualties, and the occasional higher-functioning sparkeater, these Aswangs, directing their soldiers and battering back the Cybertronians they encountered with the ease of their feral counterparts, though none seemed to be as formidable as Bloodron, at least from what Roller could tell. But despite this, the Cybertronians were rallying, their organization and superior numbers seeming to stem the tide and providing them an edge in the battle. The huge demons, savage energy suckers, were being kept at bay by the targeted firepower of the dozens of ships zipping overhead, and behind them all, nonchalantly watching the proceedings from half a mile away, stood Violen Jiger, unmoving and almost enjoying the show.

In addition to their numbers and organization, the Cybertronians had several stand-out warriors cutting through the monsters. Megatron, as much as Roller hated him, was proving to be the most inspiring of their warriors. His forearm mounted weapon, the legendary Cannon of Machtus if what the Decepticon propaganda claimed was true, obliterated the disorganized ranks of nearby Mutants before engaging sparkeaters with his sword. He killed two feral monsters before a black helicopter dropped from the sky, transformed to a spider, killed a couple of Decepticons before transforming to a feminine robot and engaging Megatron. She was clearly intelligent, she fought with strategy, and as she had not just one, but two effective alternate modes, she was clearly an Aswang. But despite being an upper tier sparkeater, Megatron soon proved to be the more powerful of the two, and beat her into a retreat. A resounding roar erupted from not only the Decepticons, but all Cybertronians in the vicinity watching as the black helicopter sped away to a section of combat with less dangerous opponents.

Elsewhere other Cybertronian heroes were galvanizing their forces with individual acts of courage and battle prowess. Delta Magnus cut through many of the feral mindless sparkeaters with the legendary Star Saber, and there seemed to be something to the legends as the blade cut through them with great ease, and if that cut was at or near their spark chambers, they remained dead. His kinsman Ultra lacked magical weapons, but with his hammer, rifle and shoulder rockets, he disabled several long enough for blade wielding soldiers to swarm, subdue, and sometimes cut the sparks out of the monsters. Not far from them were the Autobots, led by Orion, who as always was distinguishing himself heroically. Roller watched his brother obliterate the head of a sparkeater with his ion blaster, then immediately cover the distance separating them to cut through the upper torso with an irradiated sword he'd gotten somewhere, and then pluck out the spark chamber with that sword and hurtle it into the midst of a squad of mutants, take aim, and blast the chamber, the detonation of the spark combined with the ion blaster's ordinance sent the mutants flying and scorched. A bit closer to House Pax's position were the forces of Axiom, where a dark gray form with glowing blue highlights led them against the monstrous hordes. Roller peered intently at this hulking twenty-eight foot tall robot, who tore through sparkeaters and mutants alike with unbelievable strength, excellent speed and tremendous skill. The most appropriate weapon for the situation the warrior happened to be in seemed to arise from the armor itself as new opponents and threats approached it. The monsters could do nothing to hurt it, and only at seeing their futile attempts to hurt the blue warrior did Roller realize that it was the Apex Armor, exactly as Elita had described it, but still completely amazing to behold. She started to tear through the enemy more efficiently than even Megatron at this point.

There were many other warriors standing out in their fight, but as Roller charged to re-engage the enemy, his optics landed on Fortress Maximus fighting a yellow and white creature, one that Roller recognized it as the lightly colored jet he had seen earlier. The sparkeater, who was somewhat similar in appearance to Starscream in this mode as well as his jet mode, moved with intelligence, and Roller surmised that like with Bloodron, it was an Aswang, but like with the helicopter/spider creature and other Aswangs he's observed, this one was nowhere near as powerful as Bloodron had been. Fortress was exceptionally powerful, his size, his enhancements, and in all likelihood a green spark like Orion's contributing to his tremendous might, but even with all that he never would have been able to do what Bloodron had done to Roller's squad, and Bloodron had done it without showing the slightest bit of exertion. Against this yellow and white creature though, Fort Max was definitely holding his own. It seemed an even match until Delta Magnus, wielding the Star Saber, joined him and sliced right through the creature's upper back. The beast let out a roar of pain and anger, but the two massive warriors continued until Delta Magnus raised his sword with the blue, tendril-streaked spark skewered on it.

"Sunstorm!" A thunderous and familiar roar carried over the battlefield, prompting Roller and many others to turn and look at its source. Violen Jiger, no longer looking relaxed, was finally moving forward at seeing one of his Aswangs in peril. Roller looked back at Delta Magnus, and noted the energy humming across the sword seemed to increase in intensity, and a moment later the spark exploded, throwing Delta Magnus and Fortress Maximus back several yards in different directions. "Enough!" The sparkeater king roared as he leapt into the air, covering half a mile with his leap and landing in the midst of the living army, several yards from the corpse of the creature that had been known as Sunstorm.

Delta Magnus, Fortress Maximus and hordes of other soldiers swarmed Violen Jiger, all seeing an opportunity to eliminate the enemy leadership and win the war just as it began, but as impressive as Bloodron's power had been, Violen Jiger's was so much more. He battered away Delta Magnus, sword and all, with no effort. Fortress Maximus as well as a half dozen soldiers were sent flying back with a mere swat. Megatron and the criminal Overlord charged in with the throngs of others, but they too were battered back with minimal effort. Even Orion made his way over and attacked, and was just as effortlessly hammered away, his chest armor torn by little more than a graze of Violen Jiger's knuckles. The armored Elita One charged through the masses, and all cheered as she hammered her right fist into the small of Violen Jiger's back, forcing him to stumble forward a couple steps, a follow-up punch sent him stumbling forward a few more, but her third swing was evaded as Violen Jiger gracefully sidestepped and brought his left backhand down across her head and torso. He then pounced upon her and started battering away, throngs of Cybertronian warriors came to her defense, but they were ignored for the first few seconds, and then swatted away by two quick and violent swipes of the sparkeater king's arms. He immediately went back to hammering away upon the armored emir of Axiom, rock and metal from the devastated ground spraying up with each blow. "Cursed blacksmith and her vile creations!" He roared before standing up, hauling the limp blue form up with him, and hurling it away, sending Elita careening into dozens of her own soldiers. The armies once again charged him, but Roller's optics were still on Elita, her armor remained in place but she was completely unmoving. He then scanned back to the progress of the Cybertronian swarms against the enemy leader, and noted that they could do nothing to cause him harm. His bestial hordes took full advantage of the distraction caused by their leader, charging the Cybertronian forces that were no longer focused solely on them. "This is not going to end well." Roller muttered.

Trepan

Nine wall-sized computers hummed as they analyzed the latest projection of the enlarged version of Triptych's brain module. There was so much to this, it was daunting even to the brilliant Trepan. Nobody on Cybertron knew the intricacies of brain modules nearly as well as him, but for this undertaking, even he would have considered it inconceivable half a vorn ago. Enlarging a brain module to a larger version of itself was staggering to consider; there was so much more involved than just a simple 'scaling-up'. And this, this was orders of magnitude more complex than that. To take an existing, albeit heavily damaged brain module of a vastly larger, simpler and astoundingly different species, modify it so that it could be remotely receptive to being overwritten by an existing personality and memories of a far more intellectually complex creature a tiny fraction of its size…impossible, completely impossible. At least, for anyone else, even Shockwave, it would be impossible. Even for Trepan it would be the greatest challenge of his life, but scientists tend to love challenges; Trepan more than most.

It wasn't pessimism telling him that the analysis would find flaws in his latest rendering, it was simple reality. He had not been lying when he told Shockwave that it would take years, and he was completely comfortable with that timeframe. And while the computers conducted their scans, evaluations and simulations, he familiarized himself with Shockwave's pet project. Giving serious consideration to the old myth about enhanced performance due to spark compatibility and proximity seemed like a joke when Shockwave had first described it to him. The idea that certain individuals got marginally 'better' around those with kindred sparks had always existed, but any reasonable individual had discarded the notion. To hear that Shockwave had been conducting serious experimentation on it was beyond surprising, so see Shockwave's results that all but proved that the ancient myth possessed merit was jaw-dropping. And his hypothesis regarding physical modifications that could capitalize on and enhance these enhancements further, to levels almost absurd to consider, was beyond fascinating. What he was proposing provided a sort of fallback should things with Trypticon not work out. Trepan traced his finger over the projected design changes to Hook and Scrapper on the data pad before having his attention diverted to the beeping communications console on the far end of the subterranean chamber.

He traversed the metal and rock covered ground, stepping over lumps and small outcroppings of geological and metallurgical clumps that served as reminders that this state of the art facility was embedded in the untamed subterranean caverns of Nyon's boneyards. He rounded on last table covered in tablets illuminating data from various inquiries, equations and experiments and reached the console, switching open the channel. "Yes?"

"Trepan, we're coming up on the battle." Shockwave's emotionless voice cut through. "It appears to be going poorly, I don't have enough data to formulate accurate odds, but in all likelihood the sparkeaters will not be contained. Prepare evacuation and relocation of all assets."

Trepan grumbled more in annoyance than disappointment or fear. "As you command. We will be away from this location by day's end."

"See that you are. Shockwave out."

Shockwave

The transmissions from the ships on site over the battle had initially been positive, but only for a very short while. Within the first hour the transmissions grew bleak and began depicting a quickly losing battle, a chaotic breakdown of the Cybertronian forces against the smaller army of vastly more powerful sparkeaters, a breakdown initiated by their leader's advance into the fray. What Shockwave's Decepticons, and the Autobots traveling slightly ahead of them were coming upon was the rout one would assume to be the aftermath of such a battle, with Cybertronian forces frantically trying to reorganize, but thinning out greatly as many of their numbers transformed and started to flee. The Decepticons were easy to spot, they were still fighting effectively and were by far the most disciplined of the warriors on the field, but even they soon would be facing inevitable defeat, especially as their allies were wiped out or fled.

Shockwave stepped forward into the cockpit and leaned over the pilot, Razorclaw's flier Divebomb, and pointed out over the center of the battle. "Take us there and hover." Shockwave turned to Razorclaw who had been standing behind him. "Order Onslaught to ready his team."

"Sir, my Predacons are the best melee combatants we have." The hulking black, red, orange and yellow warrior replied from the door linking the cockpit to the passenger section. "Perhaps we should be the vanguard."

"Predacons?" Shockwave asked. "You've taken beast modes, but you are of Altihex. Why choose a designation based on Nyonian legend?"

"Initially it was to piss off the Nyonian gladiators," Razorclaw replied, "but we came to study the legends and found that in our new forms we fought, and hunted, and dominated much the way the Predacons of legend did, so we embraced the name."

"So be it." Shockwave replied disinterestedly. "We have no chance at victory, I have no doubt that you and your team would kill several of those things down there, but you would eventually be overwhelmed and be repelled, or more likely killed. Our best course of action is to facilitate an effective retreat for Megatron and the other Decepticons. That involves ranged combat, firepower; Onslaught and his team are better able to provide that than you." Shockwave explained as he straightened up and turned to leave the cockpit.

"Understood sir, I will get him immediately." Razorclaw answered before turning to find his fellow Altihexian.

A moment later the tall, lean Onslaught and three other warriors were assembling in front of Shockwave. "Sir, what are your orders?"

"Dispatch Blastoff and Vortex to provide aerial support for a Decepticon retreat." The purple commander replied. "You, Brawl and Swindle will do the same from the port hatches."

"Sir, about the Polyhexian…" Onslaught muttered, "he's very bright, he's beyond resourceful, but he…well, he just doesn't fit in. Soldiers require some measure of honor and discipline, but he, well, he still has not made his way here despite receiving the order to do so."

"Swindle may not share all of the traits you feel members of your squad should have," Shockwave answered, "but the spark evaluation results of the five of you suggest that you would be an ideal match. Do you not drill well together?"

"Actually sir, yes, we do. But…"

"You are his commander, you are free to discipline him in whatever manner you wish," Shockwave interrupted, "but he is a member of your team, so find him and instruct him to carry out my orders."

"Yes sir." Onslaught snapped back obediently and turned to instruct his team. Moments later Blast Off and Vortex were airborne, as were numerous other fliers from the other transports under Shockwave's command, and all of those transports had their most well-armed and most skilled marksmen firing down into the soldiers of the dead that were threatening to surround or block off their Decepticon comrades. A huge, dark gray sparkeater transformed into a jet that almost seemed worthy of space travel, and shot into the sky, opening fire into the cockpit of one of the rear-most transports. It transformed back to robot mode and landed on the cracked windshield of the vessel, a massive oddly-shaped sword in his hand, and he brought the melee weapon down to obliterate the barely functional windshield. Shockwave could only watch as he climbed into the ship across the sky and it started to plummet down, crashing into dozens of soldiers that looked to be fighting for House Magnus.

"Divebomb, contact Megatron, go through Soundwave if you need to, and let him know he must retreat now." Shockwave called into his own cockpit. "We have only minutes here before we too are over-run."

Shockwave then marched over to the open doorway of the passenger section where Onslaught was in his mobile artillery mode firing down at the enemy. He stepped over Onslaught's shellmode and fell into the air, dropping a couple hundred feet before activating the propulsion systems he had built into his frame, hovering high in the air, then transforming to cannon mode and opening fire on the huge gray sparkeater as it emerged from the flaming wreck of the ship he had downed. The blast sent the creature skidding across the ground, but what little damage it did sustain seemed to heal immediately. The beast grinned at his distant attacker as he got back to his feet, but was quickly swarmed by Magnus retainers. Shockwave turned his attention to the rest of the battlefield, his goal to stifle any further air power the sparkeaters may have, but as he scanned the scene he realized how lost their cause truly was. The armies of Cybertron had devolved into nothing more than disorganized rabble. Even the Decepticons were starting to fray. A large scale retreat was beyond the realm of possibility. Shockwave had always believed himself to be devoid of emotion, but for the first time he was not only feeling fear, but despair. And then it happened.

The ground rumbled once. Then again. And again. Shockwave accessed sensor equipment in Harmonex and the lab in the Nyonian boneyards, both thousands of miles away, and verified that they were experiencing the same seismic upheaval. It had been fifteen years since the last Vectoral Surge, but there was no doubt that this was another birthquake. The sparkeaters screeched joyfully as one at sensing the immeasurable life-force pushing its way to the surface. It was a horrific noise, one that infinitely increased the dread in the already terrified Cybertronians. Even the sparkeater-allied mutants, the few that still survived, were completely unnerved at the shrilled cries of joy, likely knowing and rightfully fearing the feeding frenzy that was soon to ensue.

A soft glow emerged a mile northing of the battlefield, something that surprised Shockwave as there were no pre-existing hotspots in that region, but new ones formed every few centuries. The new hotspot was a tremendous boon to the armies of Cybertron, as even Violen Jiger seemed unable to rein in his army and prevent thousands of them from charging the new, and going by the glow's growing intensity, very fertile hotspot. The location of the hotspot, while beneficial to the Cybertronian warriors, would be the doom of those newborns unfortunate enough to emerge there. But Shockwave was not one to miss an opportunity just because it emerged due to another's misfortune. "Megatron," he insistently barked through a channel he hoped the Decepticon leader was accessing, "this is our only chance to retreat!"

"I am aware of that!" Megatron belted back before opening every frequency and continuing. "Decepticons, retreat!"

Elita One

Optics came back online to register the fading light of day. It was a clear view, despite her last memories being of a spider web of cracks forming under Violen Jiger's assault right before descending into total blackness. The Apex Armor was apparently not impervious to all manner of punishment, but it did seem to have a very effective self-repair system as any and all cracks were completely gone. Elita felt her body jostle a bit, then a bit more, and finally realized that she was being carried. "Release me!"

The movement stopped, and she was carefully but quickly placed down onto her feet. "My Lady, good, you are awake!" The largest of four guards, a stout orange warrior named Brightforge, addressed her with a broad but nervous grin. "Transform my One, we all must, and retreat from this place. The battle is lost, our generals are seeing to the withdrawal of our soldiers, but we must get the One safely away."

"The One does not abandon her troops!" Elita snapped back, then turned back toward the fading sounds of battle. "We will return to our forces, to all of Cybertron's forces, and continue the fight!"

"My Lady," another guard, a smaller, lean soldier by the name of Rapier, replied, "our forces are already in retreat, most are farther from the sparkeaters than we are, as is the case of all Cybertron's forces."

"Every army is evacuating, my One." A blue and yellow guard named Nightstreak added. "We will regroup at some point, but we must see you safely away."

"My Lady, we must move now." Brightforge stressed, and smiled in relief as a nod came from the armored Elita.

Elita stepped back away from her soldiers and held her arms straight ahead of her. With a mental command the armor retracted away from her body, along her arms and gathered into the ancient oval-shaped shield-like disk, now clasped in her hands. She released it, transformed immediately into her ground cruiser mode, the shield dropping and landing on her hood, some clasps emerging from her hood to hold it. Her guards transformed as well and she led them further away from the battleground, toward the thick forest a few miles away that ran for hundreds of miles along the northern coastline of the Mithril Sea, the infamous haunted Mechigahara Forest. Organic trees grew in such density that the interior rarely saw sunlight, and even smaller Cybertronians had extreme difficulty in traversing through the dark forest. An odd mixture of ores running beneath the ground of the area disoriented many navigation devices, and legends depicting evil animal spirits and demons doing harm to intruders went back many millions of years.

It would be difficult for Elita and her guards to get through, but hopefully it would be just as difficult for the sparkeaters to get through after them. Upon reaching the coast she would attempt to contact other Cybertronians, or if still being pursued, they could submerge into the depths of the Sea, which hopefully would allow them to shake any persistent sparkeaters, and from there, well, she supposed she could find her way back to Insula Avalonius. Up until a few million years ago there had been dozens of thriving port cities along the shoreline at the edge of the forest, port cities that had served as the primary launch point to for Nova Cronum vessels traversing the Mithril Sea. But according to legend, the demons of the forest had over time driven the denizens from each of the numerous port villages and towns. So perhaps, while unlikely, a craft may have been left behind, one made of true Cybertronain ore that could last the ravages of millions of years' worth of erosion and neglect, that she and her soldiers might be able to get to working order and set sail. A million to one shot, but positive thoughts made it easier to continue on after such a defeat.

The metal ground soon gave way to a mixture of metal and rock, then to rock and dirt, and soon the vegetation escaping out from the forest was popping up around them. They were weaving around the occasional tree, the arboreal wall of the Mechigahara Forest was now only seconds away, the tree line representing the end of their use of alternate modes until they would be able to finally emerge from the forest. The sound of rotor blades cutting through the air drew her attention away from the forest ahead, and she directed her attention to what her rear-facing cameras were directing into her brain module. A black helicopter darted toward them, then over, then dropped to a nearby tree, transforming in the air as it fell. Elita and her team transformed as well, but just as she attained robot mode and started to reach for the Apex Shield, a thick web slapped it and pulled it away a half-second before she could grasp it. Elita's optics immediately shot to the giant, hideous metal spider in the tree one hundred yards away sucking the shield toward it, and emitting a cruel, feminine laugh as it did so. "Tsk tsk tsk, too bad, my Lady. With Solus's special little suit there would be very little chance of me stopping you from reaching the forest and battering a path for yourself. Of course, I'd still have killed your comrades, but you'd likely have made it to safety." The multi-eyed beast snickered at them. "But now, well, you'll be as much my prey as they will, and I'll have this as a trophy to present to Violen Jiger."

"Kill it!" Brightforge yelled out.

"Protect the One!" Nightstreak called out as well as he and Rapier placed themselves between the creature and their Emir, each bearing a sword in one hand and a rifle in the other.

"I need no protection!" Elita snarled back. "We kill it, reclaim the armor, and retreat into the forest!"

"Yes, come kill it." The spider laughed as it leapt from the tree and hit the ground running toward them. The Cybertronians fired upon it, their aim true, but like with all other sparkeaters, the spider's wounds healed almost immediately and her progress was not slowed in the least. The beast leapt upon the smallest of her guards, the quiet one named Cauldron, and tore into his chest as they hit the ground. Her bestial head dipped, and then jerked back up, Cauldron's pulsing blue spark gripped in her mandibles.

Brightforge roared out in rage and drove his shoulder into the beast, barely pushing it back at all as it absorbed Cauldron's spark into its monstrous body, barely aware that it was being struck. The creature swatted Brightforge away with one of its eight limbs, then transformed into a feminine robot and prepared to engage the other three attackers, the Apex Shield still firmly clutched in her left hand. They were well trained, but their melee assaults were just as fruitless as the shots fired from their rifles and cannons. She was stronger than any one of them, but not so strong as to be able to overwhelm all of them with her strength alone. Elita and Rapier shoved her back and Nightstreak battered her head with the butt of his rifle. The sparkeater only laughed and smacked Nightstreak to the ground with the Apex Shield. As he fell she delivered a snap kick to Elita's abdomen, sending the Emir of Axion bouncing across the ground. She then punched Rapier in the face, knocking him down, and she was immediately upon him, bashing his face to metal bits with the stolen blue disk in her hands.

Brightforge was upon her, too late to save Rapier, but hammering her with every bit of strength he had. His blows did cause her to stumble back a few steps, but at no point was she ever disoriented or in trouble. At least until her lower left arm, the one clutching the Apex Shield, was suddenly detached. The sparkeater looked down to see Nightstreak's sword dripping with her fluids, and his other hand reaching to grasp the Shield. He grabbed it as she leaned down to allow her stump of an upper arm make contact with her detached lower arm and allow them to reconnect. Nightstreak leapt to her side and flung the disk toward Elita. The Shield almost reached Elita's waiting hands, but once again a web shot out an intercepted it, one launched from the creatures uninjured right arm. The two remaining guards lunged into the beast, causing her retrieval yank to send it wide and past her. Nightstreak's sword once again flew into action, slicing through the web and sending the flying Apex disk toward the forest. It clanged against a tree and fell to the ground within the shadows of the ancient and ominous forest. The femme sparkeater snarled and turned on Nightstreak, thrusting her fingers into his face and tearing it open. Elita was nearly upon them, ready to defend her countrymen.

"Lady Elita!" Brightforge roared. "The Armor!" Elita halted, looked at him and realized he was right. She turned to the shadow of the forest and saw the blue disk on the rocky ground. The distance was just at the point where running would get her there as quickly as a transformation and drive, so she sprinted toward the tree line, away from her likely dying guards, to get to the one thing that could save them all. She heard pained grunts coming from Brightforge behind her, knowing that in all likelihood those would be his final utterances, but she was almost to the Apex Armor, almost to victory.

It was only twenty yards away when suddenly a dark form landed between she and it. Elita's spark dropped as she looked up to see the fluid streaked face of their assailant, a hideous smile stretched across her face. Her optics lowered to see a soundless scream coming from Brightforge's detached head clutched in the sparkeater's right hand. "Soooo close." The creature mocked. "Your soldiers were valiant, but alas, their cause was lost from the start, their chosen leader simply not worth following."

"I'm not dead yet, foul beast." Elita snarled as she took on a combat stance. "Come finish the job."

"With pleasure." The dark feminine form growled as she took a step forward, just as the trees behind her exploded, a gray and red blur blasting through them and slamming into the back of the sparkeater.

Elita was stunned as the predominantly gray form charged the sparkeater past her, a red blade-like horn thrust through her dark, spindly body and jutting through the front. "You insult beasts, highborn!" A gravelly roar thundered from the gray form. Elita stared, taking it in, and finally realized what it was. A giant metal rhinokeron had the sparkeater gored and pinned to the metal, rock and dirt ground. "Retrieve your weapon, fool!" The voice belted out, snapping Elita out of her stunned motionlessness.

Elita turned and sprinted to her disk, finally reaching it, gripping both ends, and willing it to engulf her. She turned as the process began, and watched as the sparkeater recovered and threw the rhinokeron off of her. The creature was roughly fifty percent larger than the flesh and blood version of the creature, and being a mechanoid was vastly stronger, but the metal beast was still not strong enough to knock over the sparkeater a second time. Its second charge was met by a punch to its thick skull, sending the rhino to the ground with a thud. The sparkeater snarled before turning toward the now-sprinting Elita, shock in its optics as a speeding blue fist battered her face and sent the black creature skidding across the ground. Elita didn't pause to admire her blow, her battles with Decepticons and sparkeaters had made her fully aware of the power she wielded while donning the Apex Armor. It had come up short against this creature's master, but it would be sufficient to kill her.

Elita fell upon the other femme, her fists already a blur of motion before she even settled upon the creature. The head was pulverized in moments, so she continued to the upper torso. That was battered within a few strikes, but the regrowth of the cranial structure made Eliat realize that the beast was not destroyed, and would never be destroyed as long as its spark existed. She considered leaving the beast alive for a time, subjecting the creature to the torture of bodily destruction, regeneration, and further bodily destruction for hours before finally ending the monster's misery, but as furious and saddened as she was by the death of her guards as well as all the soldiers that had fallen in battle, she was not a sadist, and would derive no sense of satisfaction from needless inflicting of pain. She decided to end it, drove her fingers into the creature's chest until she penetrated the spark chamber, and wrenched the torso open to reveal the pulsing blue spark, covered in black tendrils. Elita grasped it, tore it free and hurled it into the air. Using weapons that emerged from the forearms of the Armor, she targeted the spark and opened fire. The explosion marked the end of the creature's twitching beneath her, but she knew it would also draw the attention of its comrades.

Her gaze turned to follow the sound of movement behind her, and she saw the metal rhinokeron slowing walking back toward the hole in the tree line that it had created moments before. It stopped just short of entering the forest before turning back and fixing eerie yellow optics on her. "Well, your majesty, you comin' or not?" The beast then turned back and continued into the blackness of the haunted forest, and, nowhere else to go and aware that the sparkeaters would be arriving at some point, Elita rose to her feet and followed him in.

Kup

The withdrawal, much like the battle, had been a chaotic mess. Kup had started the battle fighting with the forces of House Pax, which seemed the best fit as the descendants of Paxus had always proven to be the truest friends of the Wardens. But as the battle raged he found himself pulled by the combat toward the forces hailing from Tyrest, specifically those from the city of Damaxus, those following Thunderclash, a vassal to House Ambus that had been awarded title and lands by Dominus Ambus for his good work as Chief of Security for the royal house. While unquestionably deserved, the elevation to lord for Thunderclash had come to be seen in recent days as an unfortunate event, as it meant he had moved away from Centurion to the lands granted him in Damaxus, and was therefore not there to defend House Ambus when the Decepticons attacked.

In all likelihood the presence of one individual, even the legendary Thunderclash, would not have made a difference in the slaughter, but seeing the warrior fight was inspiring none the less. But despite the skill shown by Thunderclash, and Megatron, and Delta Magnus and others, the tide turned irreversibly once the sparkeater king joined the fray. They were routed, they were defeated, they were doomed; until Cybertron sacrificed newborn to save them. The planetary pulse had changed everything, and the emergence of a hotspot just north of them had drawn the majority of the sparkeaters away from the battle for a gluttonous feast. Kup looked on to the glow in the distance with horror and pity, but had resigned himself to not being able to do anything for them. Thunderclash however felt less resigned to the newborns' fate, and ordered his followers north to do whatever they could. The Damaxus noble was brave and heroic, but he wasn't stupid, there would be no driving the sparkeaters away from the hotspot, or protecting it from them, but perhaps they could save a few of the newborn, gather up the sentio metalico that surrounded a few of the newly surfaced sparks and maybe it would be enough to give that new life a chance. The odds weren't with them, but Kup and every warrior under Thunderclash's command felt it to be their duty.

By the time they reached the hotspot the sparkeaters were already tearing into the sacred life-ground, pulling up blue orbs and swallowing them whole. But the hotspot was huge, the largest Kup had ever seen, and there were eruptions on the outskirts that the sparkeaters had not yet gotten to. Twenty-seven soldiers had managed to abscond with twenty-nine blobs of metal that would hopefully ripen into protoforms; each soldier carrying one, Thunderclash carrying three. It was painful to leave behind the dozens at that point undiscovered by the monsters, but they could only carry what they could carry, and they sadly left those still in the ground to their fate and quickly made their way northeast toward a small cluster of mountains that led to a road on the other side of them, a road that would take them, eventually, to Iacon.

"You fought well, Lord Commander," Thunderclash commented once they were far enough away to feel conversation was safe, "and your assistance in saving what few protoforms we could was heroic. All Cybertron will sing your praises once we've rallied and finally defeated this unnatural evil, and that one in particular," the hulking noble nodded to the emerging protoform in Kup's arms, "that one will love you for the entirety of his life."

"It's a her," Kup replied, holding out the developing gray blob to show the emerging curves and other shapes normally associated with Cybertronain femmes, "and I don't deserve praises or love, and I'm certainly no longer worthy of the title Lord Commander. On my watch the Gates were breached, the monsters released, and the Wardens destroyed."

"None could have prevented what came to pass." Thunderclash replied solemnly. "I know this to be fact, and in time even you will come to accept the truth of it."

"That certainly won't be this day." Kup spat. "It is you that proved to be a hero today, my lord."

Thunderclash laughed. "I will never be comfortable being referred to as a lord, and I was no more heroic than any of my soldiers."

Kup smiled and looked to the peaks of metal and rock inviting them in the distance. "We've got a helluva trek ahead of us."

"Yes, that we do." Thunderclash replied. "But once off this terrain and through those mountains, we'll find roads and be able to traverse the remainder of the way in vehicle mode." He gently shuffled the three protoforms he was effortlessly carrying. "I suppose it'll give me time to put some thought into the names for these three." The twenty-six and a half foot tall hero looked back down at the protoform in Kup's arms. "You should probably come up with a name for that one."

Kup smiled, and remembered approaching Orion Pax in Petrex the day before to thank him for his rescue of Omega Supreme. The returning outlaw was with Elita One, and at approaching them Kup had greeted her first, offering his condolences for the tragedy that had befallen her house, and then remarking about her beauty. Orion had smiled and agreed, adding that she was quite 'cee', and explained that the term was used by those he had been with as an analogue to beautiful. Kup had found the term quaint, but wound up taking a liking to it. "I've already done that." He turned his smile up at Thunderclash. "Her name is Arcee."