Violen Jiger
Fifteen million years. More than that really, but prior to fifteen and a half million years ago he was someone…something very different. Such an unfathomable degree of time, even for one that had lived that; perhaps especially for one that had lived that. He had lost his mind down in the bowels of this world, lost and found and lost again many, many times. The closest thing to a god this world, perhaps any world, had ever produced, and he had lost track of the number of times he had been reduced to a slavering beast, only to find his way back to himself either through his own indominable will, or with the help of others. He was close to a god, but he knew he was not one. He had been born like any other Cybertronian, bigger, vastly more powerful, even smarter than the vast majority, but what made him godlike was what had been done to him by other creatures falsely calling themselves gods. And even after what they'd done to him, he was not the most physically powerful creature on this planet. The demons that roamed the valley below him were all physically stronger than him; killing their king had required everything he had, his superior speed was utilized, his indestructibility was tested almost to its limits, but ultimately it was his cleverness, his ability to plan and trick the monster that garnered him his victory. The guardian, Omega Supreme, was vastly stronger than he was, but the giant was slow, awkward. Violen Jiger wasn't certain he could kill a healthy Omega Supreme by himself, but he knew there was no way Omega Supreme could kill him with his plodding attempts to strike him.
Omega Supreme, the thought of the guardian brought a smile to the sparkeater king's central face. Only a handful of things hadn't changed in the fifteen million years that he'd been imprisoned, so few in fact that even enemies that remained unchanged brought some sort of comfort in their familiarity. Perhaps it is why he chose this place as his headquarters. A place of agony, hatred, fear, humiliation, vulnerability, violation; the place of his creation, his true creation. He turned his head away from the vast ancient hole serving as a window that was cut in the stone and metal that looked over the Pentiathan valley toward the sound of visitors entering his vast throne room. His most powerful lieutenant marched in, dragging a vastly smaller and heavily battered prisoner behind him. "Oh Bloodron, you spoil me."
"I know you've had your optic on this one for a long time." Bloodron replied as he crossed the large room and tossed the prisoner at Violen Jiger's feet. "Truth be told, I was excited to come across him myself. I'd never admit it to anyone but you, but the Decepticons and the Autobots have been alarmingly effective at eliminating our Aswangs and coming across suitable replacements has been trying to say the least."
Violen Jiger looked down and locked optics with the hateful glare of Starscream, who was doing his best to display defiance, but the sparkeater could see the fear bubbling up right under the surface. "And you consider this Starscream, commoner adopted into the House of Nexus, to be qualified to be one of you?" Violen Jiger looked up and peered at Bloodron with a slightly questioning expression. "I knew he had the potential to be one of us, and that he was a flier, but it typically takes more than just that to be counted as an Aswang. We've lowered our expectations before for fliers that were otherwise unsuitable, and nearly all have been bitter disappointments."
Bloodron nodded. "He truly is the greatest aerial combatant on the planet. He had me beaten one-on-one in the air, I needed to utilize a bit of trickery with Chainsaw's assistance to finally down him."
"Ha!" Jiger's laugh cut through the room like a blade. "The pathetic fools are so focused on our physical superiority that they fail to realize that we have brains just as they do."
"Heh." The prisoner weakly forced out from his place on the floor. "Brains? You're savages, savages relying on nothing more than instinct and cruelty to hunt us to extinction."
"Extinction?" Violen Jiger laughed back. "Your extinction means our extinction. Your ancestors genuinely believed that by locking us in the depths we'd starve to death. We believed it as well. They even sent in a platoon after waiting thousands of years, assuming that we'd either perished or were in stasis lock due to starvation. They weren't aware that hotspots existed in the subterranean tunnels, that they had cousins down there to feed us. We set upon that platoon and fed very well that day, but during the fifteen million years we were down there we recognized our reliance on the living, that being the gluttonous monsters you think we are would lead to our ultimate destruction, and we learned to ration our prey." The huge monster leaned down and peered into Starscream's face with a smile. "We don't want you all dead, we want you all in pens." The giant straightened back up and returned to the huge window to look down on the valley below, enjoying the feel of a strong breeze entering the room. "Though fortune seems to be smiling upon you, Starscream, as you are about to go from being one of them to becoming one of us." He twisted his head over his shoulder to look once again at the prisoner. "Aren't you thrilled?"
"My lord and master," the voice of Mindwipe cut through the air, as did the sounds of his footsteps entering the large chamber, "the massing of the Decepticons south of Vos has not dispersed as we predicted. Surely they must know that their discovery was inevitable." The dark thrall looked down at the prisoner on the floor and smiled. "A snack, my lord?" He then took notice of the face of the Warrior on the one remaining wing. "Or have I interrupted an interrogation regarding the assemblage outside of Vos?"
"Neither, though questioning Starscream, adopted son and betrayer of House Nexus about his Decepticon comrades' activities in Vos is probably a good idea." Violen Jiger replied.
"Question me all you want." Starscream spat. "You may even get me to talk, but it doesn't matter, it's too slagging late for you to change the inevitable."
"Oh, the inevitable." Bloodron chuckled dismissively. "I guess there's no point in fleeing in terror then."
Violen Jiger just gave a smile to Starscream before turning his head back around to let his forward-looking head to peer out the window. "The hit and run tactics are the only things that have garnered any degree of success for you and your Decepticons. For any of our enemies. It's almost disappointing that Megatron has seemingly abandoned this tried and true strategy for one that time and time again has proven disastrous for the armies of the living. Every large scale open-field encounter has ended with a crushing defeat for your allies. Has Megatron forgotten this?"
"Screw you, just do whatever you're planning on doing." Starscream grumbled.
Jiger continued staring out into the valley. "I actually am feeling a bit saddened at the idea of wiping out the Decepticons. Truth be told, I've felt them to be a bit kindred to myself. According to what I've heard from other Decepticons that have been captured, it was here that your movement was born." He turned and looked down at Starscream.
"Born? No. Christened, yes, rebranded perhaps, but the movement was in full swing prior to that." Starscream replied. "Our first large scale gathering was here. Megatron revealed the name of our movement here, as well as displaying the face of the Warrior as our symbol. This was where the Grand Deception gasped its last breath and the Decepticon movement began."
"Close enough, I suppose." Jiger turned back around. "I…most of what constituted the 'I', emerged from Cybertron far from here, but this is where that being was brought to be turned into what I am. Where I was changed into something more, given a new face," a light chuckle, "well, two new faces."
"An abomination." Starscream growled.
"Were you here when Megatron revealed the name and face of your movement?" Jiger ignored the insult. "Were you with him?"
"Yes." Starscream quietly answered. "I stood at his side, on the large outcropping of this very peak, looking over our army assembled in the valley below. It was glorious."
The huge monster nodded, his back still turned to Starscream. "I'm sure it was. This range, this entire region of Cybertron, it's desolate, forbidding. It's been that way, unchanged, since before I came into existence. A rocky, metal-jutting, mountainous wasteland, and yet, it has always drawn the powerful of this world to it. The old masters of this planet, those that called themselves gods in my youth, regarded this place as holy, their leaders bestowing their own names upon these mounts. They performed their greatest…and most vile acts here. The only being to ever truly deserve the title of god was created here and has returned to this place to call it home. And the only movement, the only organization your kind has created that is worthy of my respect was formalized here." The creature turned back and took a step toward the prisoner. "And if I'm guessing correctly, will finally come here to die in this place."
Starscream displayed a pained smile. "Something will die here, of that I am certain."
Violen Jiger smiled and nodded as he leaned down over Starscream. "I'd better begin the transformation; your pathetic threats are making me question your worthiness."
"Worthiness?" Mindwipe gasped. "You mean…he…this…this Decepticon, this…this Nexus-whore bears the trait?"
"Mind your words and tone, thrall." Bloodron growled. "He will soon be your master."
The comment brought a look of helpless rage to Mindwipe's face, a look that Violen Jiger had seen many times before, but a look that never ceased to make him laugh. Then, without warning, the clawed four fingers as well as the thumb of Violen Jiger's right hand drove into Starscream's chest, causing the Decepticon to cry out in agony. "Relax, Starscream, it's only excruciating for a few moments, then the process causes you to drift into a detached state of sorts, you feel almost disembodied as the change begins to slowly take place. Trust me, when the entirety of the process is complete, you will thank me." He noticed a slight shift in Bloodron. His lieutenant's romanticizing of his prior mortal life had not gone unnoticed by the sparkeater king. It was odd as while they were suffering beneath the surface of the planet he had sensed no dissatisfaction; only when they were free to dominate all life had he come to notice it. But if it became an issue, he would address it at that time.
"Go slag yours…eeelllllllllllllllllll aaaaahhhhhhhh!" Starscream roared as the pain overwhelmed his bravado.
"Now, Air Commander," Violen Jiger calmly addressed him as the tormented Decepticon seemed to slowly relax, "tell me of this reason why the Decepticons are amassing south of Vos, seemingly without concern of being noticed by me."
"Nahhh…not just Decepticons." Starscream groaned in an almost intoxicated manner, his head bobbing and weaving as though he were struggling to remain conscious. "Unified forces and Autobots to assemble there as well."
"So, it's to be one large assault on us then?" Violen Jiger asked, a bit of mirth in his voice. "Why the sudden change in estimating how such an attack would turn out? You have less now than when you first assaulted us in Nova Cronum four years ago, while we are slightly more, far less exposed, far better fed, better equipped and firmly entrenched in this mountain range. Is this a last-ditch gamble to kill me, or do you actually have assets you lacked before?"
Starscream smiled and was even strong enough to let out a weak laugh. "Assets. Oh, we have an asset now, one that changes everything. One even you can't stop." The Decepticon seemed to drift out of consciousness as the corruption of his body started in earnest, but a gentle shake of Violen Jiger's inserted fingers woke him up, though still acting inebriated.
"Wakey wakey, Lord Nexus." Violen Jiger playfully encouraged the prisoner. "Tell me of this asset."
"Looks like a battle station…it is a battle station." Starscream blurrily mumbled. "Most heavily armed battle station in history, can transform into flying transport as well, capable of orbital and deep space flight. Telling allies we have vamparc ribbon, weapon Jhiaxus tried to perfect but never quite got right. Found his lab in Crystal City, lots of notes, including details of ribbon. Shockwave studied notes and used details of anatomy of a demon we killed to perfect it…theoretically. Megatron told him to focus on other things, will circle back to that. But we're telling Autobots and Unified Forces that that's what we're throwing at you."
"But you don't have it yet? You're lying to your allies?" The still amused Violen Jiger pressed gently. "Why are you lying to your allies?"
"We don't want them to know." The broadly grinning Starscream muttered out as his head, seemingly very heavy to him, rolled and bobbed around.
"You don't want them to know what?" Violen Jiger pushed.
"What we really have." Starscream peered up at his captor with a broad grin.
"And what's that?" Jiger asked, his corruption of Starscream's spark and body still proceeding.
"The battle station, it's not just a battle station. Not just a spaceship." He chuckled lightly. "Archeologists found it. Nyon bone fields. Brain dead, but spark pulsed. Spark, like…fifteen feet in diameter, and orange, like the sun but a bit more orange," Violen Jiger's gently rounding hand movement stopped, his jovialness immediately passed, the optics on his central face stretched wide as he continued to listen to the prisoner's account, an account that seemed like nonsensical ramblings to the others in the room. "Huge," he whispered, "HUGE!" He then belted out excitedly before slipping back into his stupor, then slowly continuing. "Like a mountain. Ogrus Onyx took over, killed archeologists before word got out, got Shockwave and Trepan involved to repair and remold the destroyed brain into one just like one of his lackies. Guy Deathsaurus named his battle station after. Was going to turn this new battle station into big version of this guy. But ol' dumbass Ogrus didn't know about Decepticons, and we killed him and took away his toy and plan."
As Starscream provided the details, Violen Jiger's gaze rose toward the ceiling. "The Dragon of Nyon. You're telling me you found it. You're telling me it lived?"
"Still lives." Starscream grinned as his optics dimmed. "Gots a brain now. Trepan tweaked it, now not loyal to Onyx, loyal to Decepticons. And pretty smart from what I've been told."
"The Dragon, my lord?" Mindwipe asked, suddenly nervous at the apparent fear being displayed by his master.
"A primordial beast." Violen Jiger whispered. "A Leviathan of your myths, even myths during my time, but at one time real enough. A Titan. Perhaps the fiercest of the Titans, one so powerful and savage that the old gods could not contain it and had to destroy it."
"Allllllllmost." Starscream, in a semi-conscious state, muttered.
Violen Jiger directed his suddenly intense focus on Starscream. "You're telling me that the Dragon has been resurrected, that it's capable of higher level thinking and is loyal to the Decepticons."
"You'll see for yourself after the Grand Convocation." The Decepticon mumbled out in his intoxicated state.
"My lord, he's lying to you!" Mindwipe insisted. "Such things cannot exist. Even if they once did, these Titans, these Leviathans don't exist on Cybertron anymore."
"They do." Bloodron muttered as his optics locked with those of his master, the two thinking the same thing. "You cannot control it."
"I don't need to control it." Violen Jiger growled as he rose to his full height, pulling his fingers out of Starscream's chest. "I just need to point it at the Dragon." He glared down at Mindwipe. "Order the hangar to have the fastest ship fueled and ready to get me to the Tartarun Gates by the time I get off the elevator!" He started marching toward the door.
"And this one, my king?" Bloodron pointed at Starscream.
Violen Jiger replied without turning around. "The process was barely started, I'll have to continue after the Decepticons have been dealt with." He growled. "I just hope what's already been done to him doesn't kill him."
Nightbeat
"Are you sure about this?" The whiney voice squeaked through the speaker on his dashboard. "I would beyond pissed if all this is another bust. Getting into that NASA place was not slaggin' easy!"
"Are you sure about the date you gave me?" Nightbeat replied exasperatedly.
"Yeah."
"Then this is by far the best lead we have." The empty blue sedan replied. "The only thing newsworthy that occurred on that date was either this, or the affirmation of the execution of some human named Blokzijl, and I really doubt Polar Claw would be interested in that. It's got to be this. I'm guessing that if the Americans figured out the extra-terrestrial nature of what we're after they'd assign it to the space branch, but it was ambiguous so ARPA probably makes as much sense. It's really just a coin flip, but as DC and Arlington are just a few miles away, what's the big deal?"
"What's the big deal? How about that these places aren't as easy to get into as I make it seem?" The voice shot back. "And honestly, I'm thinking this is likely a false trail anyway. American flyboys getting lost over the ocean, who cares? Happens all da' time. Especially around there. You know what they call that area, right? What it's known for? Shit happens there."
"Use your brain module and tell me whether that makes a connection to what we're looking for more...or less, likely." Nightbeat sarcastically snipped.
"How 'bout you use your brain module and tell me whether being an ass to the guy you need to dig up info is a good…or bad, idea." Rattrap snarled mimicked back. "These're your friends we're trying to save here, right?"
"I'm sure there are a few of your people left back home too, but point taken, I'll play nice." Nightbeat replied amicably as he fully relaxed on his tires in the chilly Virginia night air. "Find anything yet?"
"Not yet but haven't really had much time to look." The Maximal answered. "The security here is pretty significant…at least by human standards. But I can break into Aberdeen at will, and this ain't no Aberdeen, so just give me a few minutes."
"Who do they have housed there anyway? At Aberdeen?" Nightbeat pressed.
"None o' your beeswax." Rattrap shot back. "Just something Claw asked me to check up on from time to time, Maximal business, nothing for you to be concerned about."
"OK, just so you realize though, if this turns out to be a bust, I may have to make Aberdeen my business." Nightbeat replied. "I'm running out of leads, and as you guys won't help me, the only other significant link to Cybertron I can find here is back in Maryland."
There was no response for over a minute, then a quiet grumble through the speaker. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
"Yes, let's hope." Several more minutes of silence passed, Nightbeat taking in the sounds of the city and nature around him. He was nearly a mile away from the facility that Rattrap was infiltrating, waiting patiently, trying to use the stimuli around him to distract him from the burgeoning excitement and hopefulness that his Maximal companion would soon find something that would lead to the Manifest, which would lead to the possible salvation for his home world, and perhaps even to his own vindication, though now that Sentinel Prime was long dead, there was likely nobody he needed to vindicate himself to. Well, no, there was always himself; proving something to himself was a running theme to his existence.
Rattrap's annoying voice finally cut the silence. "Hmmm, this is interesting."
"What did you find?" Nightbeat blurted out excitedly.
"Head fleshbag in charge here, some Licklider guy, seems to be laying the groundwork for what may eventually become the meatsack equivalent to our Cybertronian datanet. He's calling it ARPANET." Rattrap replied.
Nightbeat quelled his disappointment at this not having to do with the Manifest. "Well, hopefully some politician doesn't lay claim to inventing this ARPANET decades from now, or whatever it'll be called, like what happened on Cybertron with the datanet."
"From what I know of human politicians, that's an extreme likelihood." Rattrap answered with a humorless chuckle. "Ehh, hold on, think I may have found something else. Something that may be related to your missing flyboys."
"Find what you can, but be careful…and thorough," Nightbeat replied as calmly as he could, barely containing his excitement, "but mainly careful. But I'm not trying to downplay thorough. By all means, be thorough."
"Shaddap and let me do this." Rattrap grumbled. "OK, let's see, hmmm, board of investigation, five missing TBM airplanes, one missing PBM, blah blah blah, finding of facts, sheesh, dozens of numbered statements all starting with the word 'that'. Cripes this is dry. It's pretty much identical to that 'Navigation Problem Number 1" report I found in the Library of Congress. Blah blah blah, Flight nineteen, Lieutenant Taylor, blah blah blah. Not finding anything on Flight nineteen beyond what we already knew."
"Focus on the rescue plane, Training Forty-nine." Nightbeat instructed.
"Yeah, yeah, mentioned here as well, just like on the public record file I already looked up." Rattrap muttered back. "Yup, here, explosion, leaping flames, same coordinates…wait, hold on, got an addendum here, marked top secret." Rattrap was silent for a moment. "Ha, bastards must think they're tricky, like they're the first military clowns to think they thought of lying to the public. Not a whole lot new here, but those coordinates that the SS Gaines Mill claimed the explosion was over,"
"Position 28 degrees, 59 minutes north, 80 degrees 25 minutes west?" Nightbeat excitedly blurted out.
"Yeah, a bit different here." Rattrap replied. "I mean, it doesn't seem all that much different, says here the explosion was 28 degrees, 30 minutes north, 79 degrees, 18 minutes west, but I guess that's a fair number of miles, enough to throw most humans off the actual location. Little bit south, and farther out to sea. Pretty much straight due east from Cape Canaveral."
"Cape Kennedy."
"What?" Rattrap's voice came through.
"They're calling it Cape Kennedy now." Nightbeat muttered. "The fact that they changed the location of Training Forty-nine on the public record is encouraging. Get out of there, and pack your trunks, we're going to Florida."
Hot Rod
"Alright, so here's the deal." Sunstreaker leaned in and pointed at the sloppy paintwork on the youngster's chest. "You're not a bad looking kid, and your shell mode is pretty much ideal for a sleek street racing alt mode, as evidenced by the fact that it's pretty good now despite you being shaped and outfitted by disorganized rabble barely eking out some sort of survival, who had squat in the way of resources to dedicate to some energon consuming, know-nothing newborn, and who probably didn't have any craftsmen who were worth a shit. You've got the potential to be an attractive guy in both modes, and fast once we get some decent motors in you, but painting flames, that's just pathetic. Even when done well, it's just a cry for attention coming from a loser."
"Oh, shut the slag up." The red one, Sideswipe, growled while leaning against the wall of the small storage room that was serving as a training center. "You are by far the biggest attention-whore I've ever known." Sunstreaker glared at his sibling, but before he could offer a retort Sideswipe looked off to the side, as though he were considering something. "Though you may have a point about the painted flames. Tracks is always doing stuff to get people to look at him. I mean, red face in a white helmet on a blue body covered in flames? And the wings? He's got wings like a 'Con Seeker, but his alt mode is a street racer. That just screams 'me-me-me-me-me'."
Sunstreaker glared at Sideswipe a few moments longer before turning back to look at Hot Rod. "That's what he does. Even when he agrees with me, he can't concede I'm right without insulting me." Sunstreaker turned and renewed his glare at his brother. "And don't think I don't know what you're doing. You can't compete with my looks, so you sit back judgmentally and disapprove of what I do and say, hoping that some femme is either offended or intimidated enough by me and is willing to settle for second best and slides into your 'holier-than-thou' net. Isn't that right, jackass?"
"Wasn't aware there were any femmes around to knock you down in front of." Sideswipe grinned.
"It's second nature at this point, bumper-face!" Sunstreaker snarled. "What started out as a piss-poor attempt to level the playing field in front of the broads is now just how you slagging are all the time!"
"I'm not the one hung up on femmes." Sideswipe shot back with a chuckle. "Frankly, the petting you seem to enjoy isn't all that appealing to me, I just enjoy looking at them. I bag on you because you are so slagging deserving of it."
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to interrupt," Hot Rod cut in, "but aren't you supposed to be training me in combat? I mean, I admit, I'm as vain as the next guy," he nodded to Sideswipe, "like, if he were the next guy. Not you," he nodded back to Sunstreaker, "I think you've got me on vanity by a wide margin, but yeah, you want to give me some tips on looking good and picking up femmes, then I'm all for it, especially with that old blue guy's cute pink protégé walking around here. And hey after you pretty me up, if you could maybe make an intro…" Hot Rod stopped as he saw a look of annoyance come over Sunstreaker's face and his arms crossing over his chest, "right, never mind; for another time. But shouldn't you be showing me how to kill sparkeaters or something right now? I mean, I know the basics, but you guys were really good out there."
"Kid's right." Sideswipe said as he started toward the center of the floor. "Alright Hot Rod, take me down." Hot Rod smiled and nodded before charging out there. The guy called Jazz had referred to this Sideswipe as one of the best athletes he'd ever seen. Problem with that statement was that Jazz had never seen Hot Rod in action. There were guys that were stronger, but nobody was as fast as Hot Rod. A feigned left jab should throw the black-helmeted clown off enough to land his right cros…oh shit. Sideswipe wasn't fooled, and fast enough to catch Hot Rod's right fist in his left hand like it was a ball. Sideswipe gave Hot Rod a grin before twisting and flipping the youth into the air and slamming him down on the floor. "Lesson number one: you're fast, you're strong and you're good, but there are lots of guys that are faster, stronger and better. If it's a sparkeater, they're all going to be stronger, many will be faster, and most of the aswangs will be better. And even the vrykrol, who don't have the brains to know any organized fighting, are tough enough to overwhelm what little martial prowess you have, and they heal in seconds, so no matter what, you're slagged."
Hot Rod climbed back up to his feet. "So, lesson one is I'm slagged no matter what."
"Yeah, pretty much." Sideswipe grinned. "But you train enough, you can mitigate the unavoidable slaggings you're going to endure over the course of your likely short life, and you may be able to take a few of those trying to kill you down before your final slagging."
"Swipe, Streaker, you guys there?" Blaster's voice came through the wrist speakers of the brothers.
Sideswipe raised his to his mouth. "Yup, what's up Blaster?"
"Got a ground racer in-bound, heading toward the rear entrance, the one just outside of the makeshift training room you're in now. Need you guys ready for trouble. Should probably send the kid back to a safe area just in case. Let us know if…" there was a pause, "never mind, inbound vehicle is a confirmed Autobot. Allow him to pass through when he enters."
"So basically, pretend you never bothered us, is that it?" Sunstreaker grumbled.
"Always a pleasure to chat with you, Streak." Blaster came back with faux-courtesy. "Just let the Autobot through without bothering him."
Something about what Blaster said at the end, or perhaps how he said it, seemed to get Sideswipe and Sunstreaker's attention as they shared an arched optic-brow. "Will do." Sideswipe replied. They both turned and stared at the far doorway, and a couple minutes later it finally opened, allowing a predominantly yellow robot with blue accent colors to walk into the storage area. "Hey Punch, long time no see."
"Sideswipe." The newcomer curtly replied as he moved across the large area at a pace just short of a jog. "I need to know where Pax is."
Sideswipe shrugged. "Command center I assume."
This Punch suddenly stopped and looked intently at everyone in the room, finally fixing his gaze on Hot Rod. "Who's this?"
"Kid born in the last pulse." Sunstreaker muttered. "Wants to be a fighter, so Swipe and I were ordered to beat that impulse out of him."
Punch looked him over long and hard. "He stays here." The yellow Autobot with blue accents then looked at the brothers. "You two have had disciplinary issues, but your loyalty to the Autobots is beyond question, so grab your weapons and come on!"
"Disciplinary issues?" Sunstreaker growled. "Aren't you slaggin' AWOL all the time? And who the slag are you to be giving us orders?"
Unlike his brother, Sideswipe sensed something from this Punch, something that prompted him to grab his rifle and a knife laying on a bench against the wall and follow Punch. "Streak, come on!" Hot Rod looked to Sunstreaker, who just grumbled, grabbed his own weapons and followed the other two.
Hot Rod stood alone in the storage room for a few seconds before grumbling and chasing after the others. "Slag this." He chased them down the hallway, weaving around bystanders who were already looking back in the direction of the three Autobots Hot Rod was chasing, all with either confused or angered expressions, one blue minibot picking himself up off the ground having been presumably knocked down, likely by Sunstreaker. He caught up to them in the command center, where nearly twenty other Autobots who had been there doing whatever Autobot business they were doing now stood frozen staring at the three, now four, newcomers who had charged into the room.
"Punch, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker," the one called Prowl addressed them with more than a little confusion in his voice, looking to Hot Rod and not bothering to address the youth, "what can we help you with?"
Punch nodded to Prowl before turning to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. "Weapons up, target anyone who is armed or who gives any sudden or threatening movement."
"What is going on?" Orion Pax boomed, the demanded question sending a shudder down Hot Rod's spine; Primus, he had a great voice. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker hesitated for a moment but raised their weapons to cover the others in the room, shrugging apologetically to their many friends as they swept their firearms over them.
"Commander, we need to get you secured." Punch said as he approached Pax.
"You need to explain yourself!" Another sporty red warrior stepped forward, causing Punch to raise his pistol and point it at the robot's face.
"No offense pal, but I don't know you!" Punch snapped. "So, I don't trust you and you need to be escorted away from Pax. Now!"
Orion Pax seemed to have had enough and stepped between Punch and the red guy. "Please don't point your gun at Rapido, Punch. He's proven quite useful over the last few years."
"Hey, Dealer!" Sideswipe called out, turning everyone's attention away from the stand-off. "Be a pal and drop the blaster to the floor."
The large, predominantly blue and gray robot on the far end of the room froze for a moment, staring intently at Punch, before slowly turning and smiling at Sideswipe. "No problem, Swipe." He slowly reached down and unclipped a large blaster that had been connected to his thigh, then tossed it to the ground. "Kinda like this thing though, so can I have it back once you guys sort out whatever the hell this is?"
"Promise." Sideswipe replied and continued scanning the area.
"Sir, I have it on good authority that Megatron has ordered your assassination." Punch explained quickly, still eyeing the room suspiciously. "We need to get you secured and figure out our next step."
"That's crazy!" The little yellow one named Bumblebee called out. "Megatron needs us, we're allies!" The small yellow Autobot seemed less certain as Orion, Ironhide and Prowl all shared a long look at one another. "What am I missing here?"
"Hey Umbra," Dealer said loudly but nonchalantly, "seems like this is getting more intense than I'd like. How about we fly the coop?"
"Lead the way." A small darkly colored robot near the corner of the crowded room replied, prompting Dealer to transform into a huge predatory bird form and take to what little space there was over the heads of the Autobots and below the ceiling, the movement causing complete disarray within the command center. Umbra charged forward and leapt up to where the bird was heading, transforming as he went airborne into a hand cannon that Dealer clutched with his talon and directed toward Orion Pax. The gun mode of Umbra opened fire, but a bulky red and gray form leapt between the shot and its intended target, and a moment later the pre-Maximal Hot Rod knew as Backstop fell to the ground with a smoldering wound to his chest.
Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and Punch opened fire on the giant bird, with others quickly gathering their weapons and following suit. Orion Pax ignited his wrist axe and leapt across the room with astonishing speed and what Hot Rod classified as 'hops' to swipe at the bird, who turned barely in time to avoid the strike himself, but the axe blade sliced his weapon, Umbra, into two pieces. Hot Rod, who did not have a weapon on him, charged across the room, cutting his way through the other Autobots to get to the blaster that Dealer had discarded earlier. The bird's wing was blasted to pieces, and it fell to the ground, transforming as it fell, so that a mobile missile launcher hit the floor and barreled through the Autobots as it too made its way toward the discarded blaster.
Hot Rod lunged between several shuffling pairs of legs and gripped the blaster, rolling over to his back just as the missile truck bore down on him, but the vehicle stopped just short and transformed. The much larger Dealer reached down and grabbed Hot Rod but lurched back up as several rounds impacted the small of his back, giving Hot Rod the freedom and time to regrip the blaster, direct it upward, and fire. Hot Rod was forced to look away momentarily due to the explosive impact and recoil, but when he directed his optics back up at the large robot, he saw a smoking hole in his forehead and the light fading from his optics. Dealer fell heavily upon the young Autobot, and a second later countless hands were peeling the corpse off of him.
Hot Rod looked up through the chaos as one set of large, strong blue hands gripped his shoulders and lifted him to his feet as though he were weightless. The red youngster looked up at the one who lifted him and was peering into the azure optics of the Autobot Commander. "Uh, thanks, Ori…uhm, Commander Pax."
"Are you alright?" Orion asked sincerely, looking Hot Rod's frame up and down for injury.
"I'm good." Hot Rod replied, prompting Orion to nod, turn and charge back to the form of Backstop still laying on the floor.
"Backstop, my friend," Orion slid down and gently rolled the bulky robot over, "that's twice you've given me my life."
"I will always serve House Convoy," the old timer choked out, "even when House Convoy calls itself a Pax." The bulky robot attempted to sit up, groaned in pain, laid back down but swatted Orion's worried hands away. "I'm fine, or I will be. The slagger didn't hit anything vital, just made me uglier."
"An impressive feat to be sure." Ratchet chimed in as he knelt on the other side of the shot robot, looking up at Pax once he was settled. "I've got this. I'm assuming you have some things to figure out?"
Orion nodded and returned to Dealer's body. "Two dead assassins, presumably Decepticon assassins, who've been operating in our midst for months now." Orion looked over to Prowl.
"We refused to attend the Grand Convocation, and they break cover to take out our leader." Prowl nodded to Pax. "Let's just hope you get the chance to tell your brother that you told him so."
"The Unified Forces should be strong enough to hold their own and fight their way out." Orion growled as he started marching to a side room to discuss a course of action with his advisors.
Hot Rod watched as the one called Punch stepped up and gripped Orion by the arm. "They're not." He leaned in and lowered his voice; Hot Rod was barely able to hear the next statement. "It's not just a battle station."
Soundwave
"Blast Off, commence communications blockade." The bulky blue former royal commanded through a secure frequency. "I'll be initiating the more localized transmission scrambler momentarily."
"As you command." Blast Off's voice replied through his communicator.
Soundwave started walking forward at the acknowledgment toward the long line of approaching vehicles. There was not normally much to look at in these plains south of Vos, but the vast armies of the Unified Forces certainly presented an interesting view. They had been visible for hours now, but finally the vanguard was coming upon the Decepticon greeting party, a party consisting of Soundwave, all six Constructicons and the legendary generals, Strika and Obsidian. His informants within the Unified Forces had informed him that their joining the Decepticons had caused quite the stir, as was expected, but that had been over three years ago, while the sparkeater sweep of Cybertron had been in its initial stages. The wounds should not be so fresh this long after.
The line of the Unified leadership pulling out from their forces was approaching, Soundwave could easily identify Delta Magnus with the Mistress of Flame seated in his rear hauler section, Ultra Magnus, Roller Pax, Pious Maximus, the massive form of Fortress Maximus's tank mode, and the sleek Elita One. He was unfamiliar with the vehicular modes of several others, but he guessed the bulky blue cube-like freight hauler to be Dominus Ambus, the hulking battle-transport to be Stronghold Pax, and the slender and ornate mid-sized street transporter to be Accumenus Honorum, all of whom were accompanied by a dozen or so other advisors and a couple hundred warriors there to ensure their safety. Delta Magnus led the formation and came to stop fifty feet before Soundwave, allowed the Mistress of Flame to gracefully come down off of him before transforming and prompting all the others to follow suit. One of the apparent advisors, a tank designed for subterranean labor and positioned behind Roller Pax, sent a wave of surprise through Soundwave as it transformed into a recognizable form. It had been many years since he had seen Megatron's early mentor Terminus, and his appearance now, in the midst of the Unified leadership, brought a slight bit of uncertainty. But there was nothing Soundwave could do regarding the matter, and once the sounds of transformation had faded, Delta Magnus stepped forward and addressed the Decepticons there to greet them. "Lord Torrent, Lord Narkissos, Lord Masonis." He ignored the common-born Constructicons and turned to the legendary military leaders. "General Obsidian, General Strika, your teachings have been an inspiration to me as they have for millions of others. It is good to finally meet you, though it troubles me that you stand with Megatron."
"We do not agree with all Megatron has done," Strika replied, "but we serve Cybertron, and the greatest chance of Cybertron's salvation is with Megatron. He possesses a martial prowess and expertise far beyond any of you."
"Though we are intrigued to meet this Orion Pax." Obsidian added. "His skills as a military commander and the victories he's claimed against the sparkeaters over the last four years are exceptional given his resources, especially for one whose formal education was sporadic, and came to a complete end after his first year."
"I'm afraid that Orion Pax and his forces will not be joining us today." Delta Magnus replied tersely, not really trying to hide an obvious undercurrent of resentment in his voice. Obsidian and Strika turned to one another and shared an indecipherable look…indecipherable to everyone else, but Soundwave couldn't avoid feeling the shared sense of approval emanating from the two of them. They were brilliant and valued advisors, Megatron shared most of his plans with them, but he did not share them all. The blue Decepticon would enjoy feeling the waves of disappointment coming from them when they learned that their anticipated meeting with Orion Pax of Iacon would never come to pass. "But the rest of us are here, so let's get on with it." Delta Magnus belted out and started walking past Soundwave and the other Decepticons toward the giant Trypticon battle station behind them in the distance.
"Scrapper, see to bringing the Unified Forces up to speed on our plan." Soundwave ordered before turning and following Delta Magnus.
"Of course, sir." Scrapper said and nodded to his teammates, who followed him as they headed toward the foremost grouping of their allies behind the leadership vanguard. Scrapper raised his wrist to his mouth-plate. "K-Squads, seek out and connect with the Unified platoon command groups to bring them up to speed on our plan of attack against the sparkeaters." In the distance, dozens of Decepticon small groups headed toward and then into the ranks of the Unified Forces, seeking out the various sub-group leaderships and engaging them in friendly discussions.
"I'll escort Lord Masonis and the others to some of our field commanders." The huge Fortress Maximus stated in the direction of Pious. "I'll make sure we're all on the same page."
"Thank you, lord Maximus." Delta Magnus replied as they set out away from their arriving forces, their security details following from a respectful distance.
"K-Squads?" Ultra Magnus asked as he walked up next to Soundwave.
"Krieger Squads, it's a regional Polyhexian term that roughly translates to brave warrior." Soundwave replied in his harmonic voice after a noticeably long pause. "These groups were selected for their fearlessness to initiate our campaign against the enemy. They are equipped and fully knowledgeable to bring your field commanders up to speed on what will be expected of them." The blue Decepticon could sense no significant doubt coming from Ultra Magnus or any of his companions, so the offered name was sufficient. The group continued forward toward a large table laid out in a field in front of the vast black battle station, the table large enough to seat at least thirty, space for all the leadership and even a fair number of their advisors and guards, though guards would remain standing as their duty required. On the other side of the table stood Megatron and Shockwave, Megatron displaying a magnanimous grin, Shockwave as unreadable as ever, even to Soundwave's enhanced senses. They both had always been cordial to one another, but neither of them felt any bond with one another due to their shared lineage. House Torrent was a thing of the past, now all that bound them to one another was their devotion to the Decepticon cause.
"Greetings, comrades!" Megatron boomed as he stretched his arms in a welcoming gesture that also served as a silent suggestion to take a seat at the table. His smile only flickered for a moment at the sight of Terminus, who sat next to Roller Pax several seats to the left of Delta Magnus, who was seated at the center across from Megatron. Megatron looked to Soundwave and nodded. "Soundwave, please oversee the other preparations."
"Of course, Lord Megatron." Soundwave bowed to the common-born Decepticon Commander, something that caused waves of revulsion to silently come off Delta Magnus, Accumenus Honorum, and several other highborn guests, wave's Soundwave enjoyed feeling as they washed over him. But for now, he had to coordinate the various groups of Decepticons that were infiltrating the ranks of Unified soldiers. It would not be a task that required his utmost attention and focus.
Ultra Magnus
He sat several seats to the right of Delta, noting that once again the fiery witch remained firmly at his kinsman's side. No matter, this was a military and diplomatic matter, areas where while she may have opinions, she knew to keep those opinions to herself until later. The tension between Delta and Ultra had been building for eighteen years and had gotten to the point where even Ultra had given up trying to mend their relationship. But as Ultra was an undeniable military leader, warrior and well-respected member of House Magnus, Delta had reigned in any public admonishments and allowed appearances to remain intact, and in the optics of everyone else, the two appeared to get along.
It had been some time since he had last seen Megatron, and as always, he seemed to bear traits of further enhancement. Subtle, but noticeable. House Magnus prided themselves on their armor. None of it had come close to the Apex Armor that Elita One had managed to re-activate, but they were masters of it none the less. Megatron's enhancements likely involved as much internal alterations as armor though, especially given a frame that was quite lean compared to the likes of the Magnus armor that Delta and Ultra bore. "It appears you've gone under the laser-scalpel yet again since our last encounter, Megatron." Ultra voiced his observations.
"Why yes, I have." Megatron grinned at him. "I genuinely believe it to be the last intensive enhancement I will ever need. I may have an alt mode switch from time to time, but this was likely the last of the big ones. You see, we uncovered one of Jhiaxus's old laboratories in subterranean Crystal City a little over a year ago. We weren't the first to break in there, another had infiltrated the facility and mined much of the data within recent years, but it seems that access to Matrix-caliber enhancement was neither sought nor gained."
"Matrix-caliber?" Delta Magnus scoffed. "As in the degree of enhancement offered by the power of the Matrix?"
"A bit underwhelming, even if true." Accumenus Honorum chimed in. "Galvatron killed Prime Nova in direct combat, Deathsaurus killed both Prima and Primon, though Primon killed him as well."
"Nova Onyx bore a blue spark, as did Justicia Ambus and likely Alpha Trion before them. Yet the Matrix enhanced them to levels that put them on par with most point one percenters. Unfortunately for them, Galvatron and Deathsaurus weren't most point one percenters." Megatron replied. "Like with the Apex Armor," Megatron nodded to Elita One, "the real Apex Armor that is, and not the pathetic attempts to duplicate it," he gave a cruel grin to both members of House Magnus that were present, "the enhancement offered by the Matrix is related to the particular would-be-Prime's physical potential. Gallus Honorum bore an ignis superious, as do I,"
"As do several of us." Ultra Magnus interrupted the braggadocio-filled explanation.
Megatron turned to Ultra Magnus. "Let's be fair, Lord Magnus, your spark, while green in coloration, qualifies as a lesser grade point one percenter." Megatron looked to his right and addressed Shockwave. "Load-bearers, that's what the polyhistors classified them as, correct?"
Shockwave nodded. "Yes, that's the term most frequently used for the lesser tier ignis superious. Based on our pre-uprising intelligence gathering into the high houses and government research, both Ultra Magnus and Dominus Ambus here are load-bearers." None were surprised by the classification for Ultra Magnus, but the assembled Unified leadership and their entourage all turned to look at the emir of Tyrest.
The white and blue bearded robot glared heatedly at Shockwave. "It's true, I chose to focus on my intellectual gifts, thinking that nobody would notice. Even I was unaware of my gift until I was nearly thirty vorns old."
"Members of royal houses got the utmost in medical care." Megatron replied. "To that end, your polyhistors take very thorough scans and keep meticulous medical records. And I have very good spies. That is why I know that you and Lord Magnus are more powerful than most, but still inferior to the likes of Gallus Honorum, Shockwave and myself."
"And what of me, Tarnian?" Delta Magnus snarled. "Do you wish to claim my spark to be inferior?"
Megatron smiled. "Oh no, Emir Magnus, yours is quite powerful. Your kinsman took to his armor and it bonded like a second…and third…and fourth dermis, but you, I bet your imposing spark and massive natural frame absorbed the Magnus armor and asked for seconds."
"That's right!" Delta Magnus snapped. "So lose the arrogance."
Megatron provided a condescending smile before continuing. "As I was explaining, like with Gallus Honorum, and like with you and a few others on the planet, I was born with a heavyweight green spark, so after receiving this process that Jhiaxus developed to mirror the enhancement levels given off by bonding with the Matrix, I am as powerful as Guardian Prime ever was, and have the performance evaluations to prove it."
"You lead a group named after deception," Roller Pax muttered dismissively, "you'll forgive us if we one, don't believe you, and two, don't care. I share my brother's total disinterest in the pissing contests that you, Overlord, and likely all other Decepticons relish in having. If your magical upgrade genuinely does provide a significant enhancement on the battlefield against the sparkeaters, then fantastic, but beyond that, we don't care."
"You should care." Megatron replied calmly with an undercurrent of ominousness in his voice. "While I'm baffled as to why Guardian Prime would commission Jhiaxus to create an enhancement that would enable the likes of Galvatron or others to equal or possibly surpass him physically, he did appear to keep it unknown to all but he and his mad scientist, suggesting that while he wanted something he didn't need, he did not wish to share it. I, on the other hand, have no such insecurities, and selected a handful of others to undergo the upgrade, Shockwave here being one such Warrior Elite." Megatron paused to allow Shockwave to nod to the assembled Unified leaders before continuing, fixing Roller with an intense stare. "And your disinterest in my power is only one of several traits you will have in common with the Autobot Commander, Emir Pax." A broad grin stretched across his face. "Another being the day in which you will die, though like with everything else, he's achieved that accomplishment before you." Roller's optics stretched wide, his hands planted firm on the top of the table as he looked ready to launch himself at the imposing Decepticon leader.
"What do you mean by that?" Accumenus Honorum, either through stupidity or desperation that what was implied was not what Megatron meant, blurted out.
"You need us!" Delta Magnus snarled, pointing a thick finger at Megatron. "Even with that monstrosity behind you, your elite warriors and whatever energy-sucking cannons you have, Violen Jiger will still paint the interior of the Pentiathan with the fluids of your army without us to reinforce you!"
"Monstrosity!" Megatron grinned broadly. "You have no idea of how apt that term is, Emir Magnus."
"Fortress, we've been betrayed!" Pious Maximus barked into his wrist communicator, looked at it in confusion, then turned to other members of the Unified leadership. "We're being jammed!"
"Decepticons attack!" Megatron roared loudly, rising to his feet, knocking down his chair in the process as hordes of Decepticons that had been positioned around the area surged toward the Unified forces. Explosions erupted throughout the Unified forces, prompting them all to turn and witness the assaults.
Ultra Magnus spied one of the Decepticons that had gone in to infiltrate the Unified forces and was forced to look away as in an instant the Decepticon and everything around it was replaced by a horrific ball of fiery destruction. K-Squads! In an instant Ultra Magnus realized that the K did not stand for Krieger, these were not warriors. The K almost certainly stood for Kamakaze, an ancient word from one of the Urayan dialects that meant suicide bomber. As his optics readjusted, he saw more Decepticons in the midst of the forces, the six Constructicons, who were suddenly leaping up, altering their shapes, impossibly increasing in mass, and merging to form an eighty-foot-tall humanoid robot. Ultra Magnus turned back around, fully enraged, just as Megatron was firing a bolt of his fusion cannon through the chest of Accumenus Honorum.
"Bastard!" Delta Magnus roared as he leapt over the table and tackled Megatron to the ground.
Roller Pax
What the hell was that thing. Giant, green and purple, and so strong that with an awkward swing of its leg it kicked four soldiers into the air and dozens of yards away, tearing one of those soldiers in half at the waist, and this nearly ninety-foot tall giant swatting through their soldiers was the least chaotic scene going on in the midst of their forces. A blast erupted close behind him, and as he turned he saw Emir Pious Maximus fall to the ground, smoke pouring out through a massive hole that cut all the way through his chest. When Roller finally pulled his optics away from the corpse he saw Delta Magnus brawling with Megatron on the ground on the other side of the table, and through his peripheral vision he caught a large purple object leaping into the air. He focused on Shockwave transforming into cannon mode and aim directly at him. His mind screamed 'move', but for a moment he froze. Fortunately, a pink blur dove into and through him, forcing them both to the ground just as the bolt from the hovering cannon zipped through where he had just been. "Wake the slag up!" Elita screamed pulling herself off him and the ground. "Back to our forces!" She roared as she pulled a disk that had been attached to her back, gripped it and activated the Apex Armor, wrapping her frame in the gray impervious coating with spark-blue highlights glowing around it. Roller's optics rolled to the side and caught the image of Shockwave blasting Dominus Ambus in the back, sending the large blue frame to the ground smoldering and likely dead.
Finally, out of his stupor, Roller lurched back to his feet and looked back toward their armies, but his attention was drawn upward to see a huge black jet zip by immediately followed by a similar jet, also mostly black but with a fair bit of white and a slight bit of lavender, the lavender matching a purple tank that was being hauled beneath it. Off to their right a pink and gray heavily armored battle tank roared past, a short, dull drill bit on the front. These large vehicles engaged the Unified soldiers ahead of the bulk of the other Decepticons, the multi-colored jet dropping the purple tank into the midst of the government and House soldiers. The war machines laid waste to the soldiers, before the black jet transformed to a thirty-foot-tall warrior that was amazingly strong and extremely resistant to the weapons-fire coming at him. The black and white jet circled back through the air toward the tank that it had deployed, and the two forms came together to create a robot Roller recognized to be the former criminal and gladiator Overlord. The pink drill-tank tore through the soldiers, rending their bodies like they were made of cheap tin, and then like his other large comrades, transformed into a twenty-nine-foot-tall, hulking robot with what appeared to be an inverted Matrix affixed to the front of his helm. Roller looked back to see Megatron and Delta Magnus back on their feet, slugging it out, and at initial glance, seemingly evenly matched. Magnus was four feet taller and vastly more massive, but while that would typically equate to having greater strength, Megatron seemed at least the equal in terms of raw physical power, and was vastly faster, more agile, and even seemed more skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Within moments Delta Magnus was sustaining staggering blows that sent him slowly back. Casual observers would think he was holding his own, and for the most part he was, but a trained optic could see that the Decepticon leader was slowly gaining the advantage, wearing the Emir of the Tagan Heights down, and the fatigue that was slowly creeping into the frame of Delta Magnus seemed completely absent in his adversary.
Roller turned to see the dozens of guards that had come forward with them surging toward them through the weapons' fire, an enormous blast from Shockwave battering the vanguard and killing at least two of them, but they continued forward to retrieve and protect their leaders none the less. Beyond them, he witnessed the bulk of their forces, regrouping after the chaos caused by the suicide bombers, the giant and the super-warriors, and charge forward as well. The bulk of the Decepticon forces charged forth as well, running, driving and flying from their black battle station, but stopping after reaching a certain point, still a way from the meeting table the leadership had been sitting at, and opening fire on the advancing Unified Forces from a distance. The tactic seemed horribly flawed to Roller, as in moments the Unified Forces would be over-running the location holding Megatron. It was at this point that a series of horrific metal sounds cut through the air, sounds like those of a transformation, but not the traditional 'tsche-chu-chu-chu-tsche', no, this was unimaginably louder and much, much longer. Roller looked past the Decepticon forces toward where the sound was originating from and watched in horror as the battle station shifted shape. Entire city-blocks seemed to detach and reconfigure themselves around the central section of the base. Roller gasped when he recognized what appeared to be legs, planted into the barren metal and rock ground, lifting the curved central section up to form a torso and tail of sorts, and the rear, dagger-shaped complex twisting to reveal the robotic head of a vicious saurian predator. The giant beast roared, causing every living creature in the vicinity to quake.
"Delta Magnus," Megatron roared from his broadly smiling mouth, "meet Trypticon! The reason we no longer require your assistance or this insulting alliance!"
"Slag…" Roller muttered before turning toward their suddenly no longer advancing forces. "Back! Retreat!" But they were already close enough for the titanic robotic dracosaur to leap into the air and cover the distance separating it from the bulk of the Unified army, landing heavily in the midst of them all. The three Warriors Elite that had been fighting from within the ranks of their enemies had already started retreating as the base was transforming, and the green and purple combined giant was large enough for this Trypticon to easily avoid landing on. The ground quaked as the beast landed, and the quaking continued as it began stomping on the rest of the army laid out around his feet. As if that wasn't enough, all the weaponry that one would expect a battle station to have erupted from all over the titan's body, obliterating the Unified forces en-masse, as well as a horrific stream of fire tearing down from the beast's maw and engulfing hundreds in a sea of molten hell.
Roller started charging back. He had no hope of doing anything to damage that thing, but he could find Torenia and maybe other members of House Pax and get them to safety. He made it to the guards still charging to aid their leaders, pushed through several to get past them, having the bulk of the Pax guards turn and follow him. Stronghold Pax, who had been with him at the table, had followed him as well, and was pulling up next to him. "Emir Roller, what are we to do?"
"Find other members of House Pax and get clear of here!" Roller belted out. "Orion told me of an Autobot safehouse east of Vos, we'll reconnoiter and figure out our next step there." The frantic emir transformed and sped ahead toward where the Pax contingent was supposed to be. He tore around panicked soldiers, bumping into several before finally transforming as he drew near where the Paxes were supposed to be. There, ahead he saw a collection of Paxes, Olnius, Loronus, Gamex, Korrox, but where was…there! Torenia, struggling to get away from the horrendous giant monster her optics were locked on. Roller sprinted through the retreating forces but winced as something enormous blasted by overhead. He looked up to see a low flying bomber, one too small to be a craft but seemingly too large to be a Cybertronian, and immediately recognized the aerial form of Lugnut. The villainous Boltax shot out ahead of them, swooped around, and opened fire on the Pax contingent, shredding Korrox and Loronus and forcing the others to dive for cover. The massive flier transformed and landed heavily in front of Torenia, and he reached down and snatched her up "NOOOOO!" Roller cried out, drawing his small ion rifle and pointing it Lugnut. "Drop her!"
Lugnut looked up and his lone optic glowed brightly at seeing the Emir of The Torus Heights. "The little shitbag." On ominous chuckle emanated from the nearly featureless face. "I'll see your Royalty and raise you…a dead slaggin' Pax!"
"NOOOOOOO!" Lugnut used his claw to crush Torenia's torso, causing her to utter a groan, something that would be her final utterance, and a sound barely heard through the deep laughter of Lugnut and the sounds of slaughter around them. "Slagging bastard!" Roller roared as he charged forward and opened fire at Lugnut's head. His first shot scored a direct hit into the large, lone optic on Lugnut's face, causing the giant to drop Torenia and stagger back a step. A second shot also hitting and tearing through his optic dropped him to the ground and left him unmoving. Roller continued sprinting and firing on the downed frame until he finally reached it, leapt onto the top of the giant's chest, aimed down and opened fire on Lugnut's head at point-blank range. Rounds poured out through the barrel for nearly a minute before Roller stopped, leaving nothing but a scorched crater where Lugnut's head used to be. Roller then leapt off and fell to where Torenia was laying, shaking her gently. "Torenia, it's me, it's Roller." He desperately called to her, lifting her to cradle her in his lap. He looked down into her darkened optics. "Come on Torenia, stay with me!"
"Cybertron!" The voice of Megatron called out over the chaos, prompting nearly all, including the giant beast, to cease their attacks and turn to him. He was battered, but grinning as he stood on the table that they had all been gathered around before, his left foot perched upon the unmoving frame of Delta Magnus, who was laid out on the table with a brutalized frame and black optics. "You created this world of caste and nepotism, through the corruption and ambition of those born into privilege, and through the weakness and apathy of those commoners who sat back and chose to accept their pathetic lot! I am your reckoning! I am the justice you deserve! I…AM…MEGATRON!" With that the Decepticons roared and resumed their slaughtering, and Megatron gazed over it all, until his optics locked onto those of Roller. He gave the mourning and desperate emir a smile before raising his fusion cannon.
Thundercracker
This was a Primus-damned slaughter. It would be one thing if the majority of those he and his squadron were raining death upon were highborn, but they were predominantly commoners doing the bidding of their noble masters. Megatron's brief but inspiring justification immediately prior to blasting the Emir of The Torus Heights in the head had rekindled much of his lost fire, though it still seemed like butchering lower creatures to him. Thundercracker, however, was a loyal Decepticon, and he would do his duty. He redirected his squadron off to the east, where a contingent of the Unified Forces were trying to get around Trypticon and evacuate the battlefield. He reiterated to himself that it was a battlefield, not a smelting field, regardless of how one sided this was. These were soldiers…well, not all of them were soldiers, Megatron had called for all leadership, soldiers, support and entourages to assemble here, but regardless of their roles or statuses, they were all enemies, and deserving of this fate. Right?
Even before beginning the attack run, Thrust and Dirge had opened fire on the retreating group. They weren't quite as dumb as Skywarp, but at least Skywarp was disciplined. Though a breach of what they were instructed to do, the initiating of the strafing early would not have any negative consequences, though Thundercracker was somewhat worried that nitwit Ramjet would try and crash into anyone, the slagging moron. Dozens of soldiers fell to their fire, likely only a few were killed, but any hampering of their mobility was likely equivalent to a death sentence in this environment; frankly, anyone who wasn't already gone would be a corpse by day's end. "Cripple, kill or send them running back to Trypticon and Devastator, but avoid injury and do not waste ammo or energon. Even with our super-warriors, we're all going to be needed in the final battle with the sparkeaters!" He didn't like leadership, this was one of the few occasions where he missed Starscream's presence but spouting off instructions was easy enough. He watched as the group not cut down by their fire was corralled back toward the bulk of their comrades.
Thundercracker led the arrowhead formation that consisted of Skywarp, Thrust, Ramjet and Dirge back around toward the south, where most of the United Forces were fleeing, his goal was to direct them back north into the kill-zone, the same goal as the dozens of other Decepticon aerial squadrons cutting through the sky in the same direction. Nearly all Decepticon fliers began swooping down to stream their assorted ordinance down upon the retreating hordes at one time, creating a seeming wall of death for those closest to seeming safety. Thundercracker headed into a strafing run as well, noting with a mild sense of revulsion that those on the ground furthest south tended to be the support personnel and other non-military followers. A proximity beacon distracted him from his feelings of guilt, a few squads of fliers was approaching from the south ahead of a much larger ground-based force. "Decepticons, be advised…"
"BOOM!"
Shit! "Orbital breach!" Thundercracker belted through the communications channel as a bulky, oddly-shaped transport shot down through the clouds above them, a huge fusion cannon on the nose firing down and blasting through the fuselage of Acid Storm, a squad leader a mile to Thundercracker's west, likely killing the green warrior. The giant transport, which Thundercracker finally recognized as Omega Supreme's combined freighter mode, continued firing on them as it barreled at them without slowing down. "Take evasive action!" Thundercracker roared as he broke off, but his command was not enough to keep the inconceivably durable Guardian from plowing through a dozen Decepticon jets, sending them all crashing to the ground. The massive Autobot transport cut north, curving and straightening as it flew over the throngs of retreating Unified Forces, initiating fire on the Decepticon ground forces pursuing them.
"Autobot fliers inbound!" The unknown voice cut through the Decepticon channel, directing Thundercracker's attention back to the south, where the Autobot's, both fliers and ground-based forces, were coming into view.
"Focus on the approaching Autobots!" Thundercracker ordered his squadron. "Megatron and his monsters should handle Omega Supreme with ease."
Elita One
Under any other set of circumstances, she'd be enjoying this immensely. But friends were dying, their army was being decimated, and likely few if any of them would still have pulsing sparks by day's end, so battering an even further enhanced Overlord across the battlefield lacked the joy that it should. He came at her again, even in the Apex Armor Elita One had nowhere near his reach, so Overlord was able to hammer her with a jab/cross combination with ease, but despite his unbelievable strength, Elita's armor weathered the blows with ease and she once again charged through his attack, the defense that followed, and landed a two punch combination of her own against his long, massive torso with the power to send him hurtling back into four Decepticons that were firing on retreating Unified soldiers. She stomped after him; she couldn't change the outcome of this battle, but she could at least rid existence of this one piece of… "Overlord!" Elita turned at Megatron's voice roaring over the sound of battle and saw the leader of the Decepticons holding the inert frame of Delta Magnus by the throat, the Unified leader's lower body extending away from the clutched neck and stretched across the ground, his right hand still gripping the Star Saber. "There's nothing to be gained from battling her in her armor. Leave her to Devastator or Trypticon and amass maximum casualties!"
Overlord grumbled as he pulled himself off two Decepticons that were still underneath him. "As you command." His dissatisfaction was palpable, but he stood up and merely glared heatedly at the Apex-Armored Elita One. "Pray that when Trypticon stomps on you you're killed instantly, because if anything resembling a spark is left of you, it will be absorbed into mine." With that he separated into his two vehicle modes and darted out to wreak havoc on the remaining Unified Forces. She would be sure to find him again before that monstrous titan got the chance to stomp her. She turned back toward Megatron, just as the Decepticon leader was speeding away in tank mode, leaving Delta Magnus's frame discarded on the metal and rock ground. Elita sprinted toward her leader and slid to a kneeling position just as Ultra Magnus was doing the same, the two of them kneeling over Delta on either side of him. Ultra was clearly distraught as he gingerly rolled Delta over onto his back, so they could assess the damage done to his front.
"Come on Delta, come on!" Ultra pleaded as he assessed his kinsman's injuries, and upon realizing there was no hope, continued hoping anyway. "COME ON!"
"Ultra." Elita tried to comfort him, placing her hand on his wrist. "I'm sorry my friend, but he's gone."
"NO!" Ultra roared. "No! He was to be Prime! He was to be the one to lead us into a new Golden Age!"
"I'm sorry," Elita mentally retracted the Apex Armor helmet away from her head, revealing her face and pulled Ultra Magnus's hands off Delta's frame, "I'm sorry, but he wasn't." Ultra stared down despondently for a few more moments before raising his optics up to Elita's. She gave him a look of deep sadness, then one of anger. "All we can do now is somehow save his army and his dream of victory over Cybertron's enemies."
Ultra Magnus nodded, then looked down at the Star Saber still clutched in Delta's right hand. Ultra gently peeled back the fingers and took hold of the large sword. "They will kill me today, but not before I send dozens of them to the Pit ahead of me!"
Elita gave a resolute nod. "Let's go!" Her helmet assembled back over her head, and the two charged back into the fray. In moments they were cutting through Decepticons with savage fury, leaving dismembered and charred body parts in their wake. After several minutes of trying to put a dent in the Decepticon forces cutting their own soldiers and civilians down, the two got separated, and Elita found herself fighting through a group of cannon-mounted ground racers, likely hoping their vehicular modes would be too fast for her to react to in her armor. While she couldn't outrun them, she had little difficulty targeting and landing shots on them with the cannons that extended out of the Apex Armor's forearms. As the smoke cleared from the destroyed frame of the last one she engaged, she caught site of Torenia Pax, her torso crushed and shredded, and lying next to her was a barely recognizable Roller, his head a blackened smoldering mess. "NOOOOOO!"
The Apex Armor withdrew from Elita and as it coalesced into its disc form, Elita dropped over where she would be after a quick transformation, allowing it to land on her hood where she held it in place magnetically. She sped to where her friends laid and transformed, still possessing the presence of mind to reactivate the Armor over her body. She leaned over Torenia and knew right away that she was gone. She retracted the helmet and pressed her forehead against that of the fallen Pax matron, whispering against the sounds of battle and suffering going on around her. "Goodbye my dear, dear friend. You gave me love and sisterhood at a time when I didn't think I needed it, but I so desperately did. I love you, may you be one with the Matrix." She then looked over to the scorched blue frame next to Torenia's and let out another mournful groan. "Oh Roller, you stubborn, fearless fool. What did you do?" The left side of his head had clearly been blasted, much of his cranial shell had been incinerated off. Elita's optics slowly swept down over his frame, and she froze as one of the fingers on his right hand twitched. "Roller!" She scrambled to his side. "ROLLER! Hang on my friend, we'll get out of here…" she looked around at the death and chaos surrounding them, "somehow." It was then that she heard blasts from the sky just to the south of them, blasts louder than the other sounds of battle, and when she looked up she saw Omega Supreme's combined space freighter mode cutting through Decepticon squadrons and cutting over the ground forces below, heading straight toward the massive Trypticon.
Orion Pax
"Commander, present course of action…NOT recommended." The Guardian's overly deep voice echoed through the lower cargo chamber.
Orion smiled as he and Wheeljack walked across it to the back, the smaller white Autobot carrying a mid-sized jetpack in his hands. Following behind them, Grimlock and his gladiatorial team leaned against a wall off to the side. "Listen to Omega Supreme," Wheeljack added, "he's extremely old, so he's seen the terrible results of countless insane plans like these in the fifty billion years he's been alive."
"Just strap it on." Orion replied, turning so that his back faced the scientist.
Wheeljack shook his head disappointedly. "Fine, just remember, this was made for Sideswipe, so not ideal for someone your size. I added a few hinges, so it'll have no problem flipping from your roof in hauler mode to your back in robot mode, and vice versa."
"Got it." Orion muttered curtly as the pack was attached to his back. "Just be ready to set off the devices on my signal." He stated, tapping a metal pouch stuck to his side that ran from just below his armpit to his waist.
"You just make sure you're clear before giving that signal! And for these things, clear is really, really far away!" Wheeljack grumbled back. Orion turned and the two regarded one another. "I really wish you would rethink this."
"I concur." Omega's voice chimed in.
"Too late to change my mind now." Orion replied as he looked at the screen depicting their forward progress through Decepticon fliers. He then raised his wrist to his face. "Autobots, Maximals, remember, hit hard, but be ready to get out. This is a rescue and extraction first and foremost. Extract as many of the Unified Forces as you can and get out. Do your duties as you always have, and we may just live to see another day." Orion then transformed. "Grimlock, you and your guys destroy Devastator."
Grimlock chuckled and replied humorously. "Great, we love a challenge." He looked to his team. "Alright boys, you heard him, transform and destroy Devastator."
As the overlaying 'tsche-chu-chu-chu-tsche' sounds of the five transforming Nyonian gladiators echoed off the cargo bay walls, Orion added the sounds of his reconfiguration as well, and soon five metal dracosaurs and a red and blue freight hauler with a jet pack on the roof were with Wheeljack. "Five seconds before optimal drop over creature designated Devastator." Omega's voice boomed through, the bomb bay door opening for the mechanical animals to jump through.
"May Primus be with you." Orion exclaimed as Slag, Sludge, Snarl barreled out, Swoop gracefully following. The bipedal saurian predator twisted it savage mouth slightly and replied just before jumping.
"Religion is for cowards, and even were we cowards, Nyonians follow The Hand." With that the monster leapt out, and the truck backed up to the rear of the cargo bay.
"Last chance to reconsider!" Wheeljack pled.
"I'm sure I'll be reconsidering it quite a bit mid-plummet." Orion replied with a laconic humor that wasn't shared by either Wheeljack or Omega Supreme.
"Optimal launch in seven seconds." Omega Supreme announced.
Orion revved his engines and activated the jetpack. "Everything about this is a terrible slagging idea!" Wheeljack grumbled.
"Launch!" Omega boomed.
The jetpack blasted to life, scorching the back wall as the wheels spun forward toward the bomb bay. Orion was shooting through the sky as the combined ship mode of Omega Supreme cut skyward away from the rapidly approaching head of the impossibly large saurian giant. Orion oriented himself so that he was pointed directly at the monster's right optic and increased the power of the jetpack to full. The red glass-like wall shot right at him and the impact sent him momentarily offline, but he came back around as his vehicular frame skidded across the black snout of the beast. Orion transformed quickly, ignoring the tremendous pain, ended the skidding slide by clawing his fingers against the black metal of the monster, and charged back toward the optic, bracing himself as the beast raised its head and roared in annoyance. The Autobot Commander slid down and collided once again with the optic, though far less painfully this time, and he pulled out one of four devices in the metal pouch at his side, activating it and slapping it to the red translucent optic he was pressed against, an optic that much to his chagrin was completely undamaged by the high-speed collision just moments before.
Unlike this Trypticon, or so Punch claimed was its name, Orion was wobbled by the impact, and stumbled to a fall the first time trying to get back to his feet, but managed to remain standing at the second attempt, an impressive feat given his battered frame and state of disorientation combined with the now thrashing of the titanic creature's head. Orion sprinted forward toward the right, mid-section of Trypticon's snout, activated his wrist-axe, lodged it into the creature and used it to swing down, reach just inside the roaring mouth, and plant another device inside, pulling his hand free just as the jaws clamped shut. The red and blue Autobot Commander then leapt away from the beast's head and freefell toward its right shoulder, momentarily igniting the jetpack to give him the necessary 'boost' to cover the remainder of the considerable distance. The arm, which was tiny relative to the rest of the creature's body but large enough so that each of the two fingers were longer than Orion, swiped at the red nuisance, but Orion deftly evaded the swipe and landed on the shoulder, immediately planting a third device on the beast and leaping further down the torso. Decepticon fliers darted toward him and strafed the area he was on, but only used minimal ordinance, likely to avoid angering the horrific mountain-sized beast. Orion was able to dodge the rounds that were near him with ease and continued downward.
The red and blue robot plummeted down toward what could be called the beast's belly, finally gripping an outcropping of tech and swing to a larger outcropping, one that he could stand on. He slapped the last of the devices on Trypticon's belly and turned just as a shot from below zipped past him and impacted against the hull of the massive creature. Though it missed, the ordinance was explosive, and powerful enough to throw Orion off his perch and send him falling. A second's worth of evaluation regarding the blast led Orion to the conclusion that it was a fusion bolt, which removed any surprise that there may have been when he looked down to see Megatron targeting him with the recently fired Cannon of Machtus. He maneuvered as best he could to throw off Megatron's attempt to target him for a second shot, but he knew he'd be hit at some point. "Wheeljack, detonate now!"
"Negative sir, you're too close!" Wheeljack replied.
"NOW!" Orion roared as he watched Megatron locking onto him with a broad grin. The realization that he was about to die flashed through Orion's head a moment before the whole world seemed to erupt into a painful, disorienting wave of chaos. Flipping repeatedly, Orion quickly realized he wasn't dead, he was in far too much pain to be dead, and forcing himself to focus, he caught a very brief glimpse of Megatron laying on the ground far below, knocked down by the shockwaves that were sending Orion careening head over heels toward him. He had a second or two at best, so focusing on his orientation, Orion activated the jetpack just as he calculated he'd be in a somewhat upright position. The jets ignited, but while he seemed to time it correctly with his feet pointed downward, the jetpack seemed insufficient to stop his downward momentum…at least for the first moment. He did slow to a stop, and Orion noted that only twenty feet separated him from the metal ground below. He looked up to see Megatron staring at him in shock, and directed the jetpack to propel him, just before the Decepticon Commander got his bearings and could target him again.
A planet-shaking roar of pain cut through the sky, one almost as loud and thunderous as the explosions that all were recovering from, and the massive Trypticon teetered back, his entire upper body covered in smoke and debris, and he came crashing down backward toward a portion of the Decepticon reserve forces. Most managed to move out of the way, but there were at least a dozen that were crushed beneath the being that was the size of a small mountain. Megatron's attention was torn from Orion Pax and locked onto his falling Titan and failed to notice Orion withdraw his ion blaster from his back mounted case and open up on him. Megatron fell to the ground with multiple ion wounds, and Orion sped out toward the bulk of the fighting propelled by a jetpack meant for someone two-thirds his size. It was then that he saw the bulky form of Elita in her Apex Armor waving for him, and sped her way, using up the last of the fuel for the jetpack as he reached her and discarding it. Then, and only then, did he see what Elita was kneeling over. "TORENIA! ROLLER!" Orion agonizingly cried out as he dropped next to Elita over his kin. He peered deeply into Torenia's optics, the first thing he had ever seen, his own developing optics coming online to view her warm glowing gold/green orbs looking down on him lovingly, now those orbs were cold, black and lifeless. "No, no, no, no, no…" his head lowered and touched Torenia's, "mother, no…"
"Orion!" Elita called at him, mentally commanding the Armor to peel away from her head. "Orion, Torenia is gone, but Roller is still alive…barely! We've got to get them out of here!"
Orion stared into her optics, a lost and helpless expression on his face, but only for a moment. A second later a steely, determined look returned; he would mourn for Torenia, he would mourn for many who had fallen this day, but now was not the time for that. Now was the time to act. He took in his surroundings; the Autobot and Maximal forces had punctured the Decepticon lines, halted their advance and decimation of the Unified Forces, and created an opportunity for their retreat, one that would include most, if not all the current survivors. Orion raised his wrist to his mouth. "Ironhide, status of evacuation?"
"Goin' as well as we coulda hoped, Pax, but it's still a slaggin' shit-show!" Ironhide's voice came back. "You takin' down their giant has really taken a buncha wind outta their sails, though! Good job, kid…err, Commander!"
"Begin initial withdrawal now!" Orion ordered, but glanced back toward the downed Trypticon to see him moving, recovering. The four near-nuclear level blasts had staggered him, but that momentary respite was almost over, the beast would be back on its feet in moments. "Keep hammering the Decepticons but do so from our established position! We'll all be bugging out quickly, so no charging into the purple ranks!" He called into his wrist communicator.
"Just need you and the Dracobots to heed yer' own advice and git back here!" Ironhide shot back. "I figure any Unified guys where you're at ain't survivors no more."
Orion looked into Elita's optics. "There are a few, and we'll be bringing them with us. Orion out."
Ironhide
He remembered a time when watching the kid jump off a roof with Jazz in one hand and a commandeered glue-cannon in the other to subdue a handful of other Autobots was awe-inspiring. Despite the chaos, carnage and death swirling around him, Ironhide had displayed a crooked smile over his age-ravaged face at realizing he used to be so easily impressed when it came to Orion Pax, his former cadet, now commander who had fruitlessly battered himself against the saurian Titan's eye, but then far more fruitfully swung his way down the beast's body, planting some of Wheelhjack's experimental explosives on his way down, and detonating them while he was still far too close. Ironhide had initially cursed Wheeljack for detonating them too soon, but almost immediately realized that Pax probably commanded him to…crazy slaggin' kid. The blasts, by The Hand they were overwhelming, had knocked everyone down, even miles away from Trypticon. Ironhide had been one of the few who managed to keep his optics on the detonations, and what he saw would remain with him until his dying day. Four white blasts extending out as widening rings from various points on Trypticon, the one from the optic and one from the mouth merging into one larger visible wave almost instantly, the two on the torso taking half a blip more to merge with each other and then the one from above. The shockwaves rolled out for miles and hit everyone like a punch from Galvatron…Ironhide being one of the few to have known how that felt and lived to tell about it. As he got his bearings he instantly realized Orion was far too close to the blast to have avoided being pulverized, but a moment later he saw his commander zipping over the ground on a jetpack and firing a few shots at Megatron. The site was something else he would never forget, and an image that fired him up like nothing else could.
The Titan roared and tumbled to the ground, hopefully dead, and Ironhide and most of the other Autobots rose to continue their fight to rescue their allies from the traitorous Decepticons. A few moments later Orion contacted him to accelerate the withdrawal and hearing the kid's voice was more reassuring than Ironhide would admit. The evacuation was underway, hundreds of Allied Forces and their support groups were being ushered into over a dozen large freighters that the Autobots had retrofitted for rapid evacuation purposed years before, though it likely did not occur to them that they would need to evacuate the living from other living. Behind him, deep within the Decepticon lines, Grimlock and his team, all in their dracosaur modes, were battling with the eighty-foot tall terror he was told was designated Devastator, a most appropriate name. Even with their vast power and ferocity, they could do little more than distract the giant, but their efforts were proving successful enough on that front to allow the Autobots to fight the Decepticons on an almost equal footing.
Ironhide caught sight of one immense and familiar warrior cutting a path through Decepticons using a large white rifle and a much larger sword. "Magnus!" Ironhide called out to the royal, one who was leading over a dozen robots through the chaos and toward the safety offered by the Autobots.
Ultra Magnus turned at hearing his name, a look of unbridled rage etched on his face. "Ironhide, excellent! Take these people, get them out of here! I'm going back for Delta!"
Ironhide nodded. "Where's he located? Pax, Grimlock and several others are in there, perhaps they can reinforce each other."
Ultra's face faltered, a look of helplessness came over it. "He's…he's not able to reinforce anyone. He's dead, I need to retrieve him."
Ironhide shook his head. "Sorry Magnus, but we don't have the time or resources to devote to anything other than saving the living! I'm sorry for your loss, but we'll have to worry about getting his corpse later!"
"NO!" Ultra Magnus roared and turned but froze as he saw a tiny robot clearing through the chaos.
The small robot, Minimus Ambus, looked up at Magnus with a look of despondence equal to that on the massive robot's face. "Ultra Magnus, have you seen Dominus?"
Ultra just shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I saw him take some shots near the negotiation table, but last I saw he was still alive."
"Look guys," Ironhide cut in, "the Decepticreeps ain't gonna let us look around for them. Anyone who's not here now isn't getting' on one of our crafts!" The old Autobot looked up and relaxed slightly to see the bestial forms of five saurian gladiators making their way toward them, with Orion and Elita in vehicular modes speeding their direction from just a short way beyond, each with a frame strapped to the roof. "Board and get the slag outta here!" The two royals looked to one another before reluctantly doing as commanded. The ships were as loaded as they could get them and were launching off one after the other. Autobot protectors were taking casualties, but they knew that would happen going in. Within thirty minutes of Orion's command, all Autobot, Maximal and Unified individual that was destined to leave, was leaving, Ironhide riding on the last transport, watching with tremendous sadness as Orion frantically applied every bit of medical knowledge he had to keep his brother alive.
Rattrap
A trench coat and a fedora, so clichéd yet practical. At least the season justified a coat to some degree, though even at night in December, a coat in Florida would seem unnecessary. "Are we there yet?" Though his annoyance at the length of the trip was genuine, the question and the whiny tone it was asked in was to annoy his temporary partner and conveyance as they drove over the last portion of the Cocoa Beach Causeway toward the strip of land to the east.
"You really are a pain in the ass, aren't you?" Nightbeat replied through the dashboard. "There's Cocoa Beach, straight ahead. Patrick Air Force Base is just a few miles south. So, no, we're not there yet, but it won't be long." Based on the tone of the blue and yellow car's reply, Rattrap's attempt to annoy was successful, but a couple minutes later, as they were pulling off the bridge and onto land, Nightbeat broached a topic in a more reserved, almost worried way. "Hey, mind if I ask you a question? Might be a bit personal."
"Shoot." Rattrap replied without hesitation. He'd never been one to be offended by personal questions, and if it really was something he wanted to keep secret, he could always just lie.
"Remember a few years back when I broke out of the Axalon?"
"You mean when you bashed my cranial shell?" Rattrap grumbled in response.
"A few seconds after that, actually." Nightbeat hesitantly proceeded. "Soooooooooo, after knocking you out I looked…"
"Let me stop ya' there." Rattrap interrupted. "Thanks to your bit of nosiness, I had to undergo psych evals up the wazzoo, prove that I wasn't crazy, or at least that my level of crazy wasn't beyond acceptable levels, you know, not going to harm myself or anyone else, and even worse, I had my Ra-damned Wasptinator collection confiscated!"
"Ra-damned?"
"We've been on this planet a long time; the local deities tend to blur together!" Rattrap snapped back. "And to answer the question you're beating around the bush about, yes, those were body parts, but we ain't organic, so they don't rot…they don't break down at all until placed back on Cyber-firma. Fer all intents and purposes they're just mechanical parts, it's not like hunks o' meat slowly rotting away in formaldehyde jars! I ain't no headcase!"
"Okay, okay!" Nightbeat replied defensively, undoubtedly hoping to avoid damage to his steering wheel and dashboard by the agitated Maximal. "Anyway, we're coming up on Patrick. Per the plan, you sneak in via land, I'll submerge and gain access via the coast, and we'll meet outside the designated hangar."
"Yeah, yeah, got it. Still not sure why we need to steal a human plane." Rattrap grumbled.
"If your pals are willing to loan us a shuttle from the Axalon…"
"Fine, yeah, got it, shut up." The annoyed Maximal interrupted.
"You sure you'll be able to infiltrate that facility?" Nightbeat questioned.
"I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be the first or last rat to get inta' that place."
"No, but you'd be the only rat the size of a large dog to give it a try." Nightbeat joked back.
"You just worry about your big, lumpy, graceless ass." Rattrap muttered as he got out of the stopping car, pulled off the human attire, and transformed into a large rat. "Try not ta' keep me waitin' too long." The rodent muttered before scampering off toward the base in the distance.
Getting under the fence, past the guards and evading the lights and other pathetic detection implements was easy but remembering where the hangar that blue and yellow boob wanted them to break into took some remembering and more than one bit of backtracking, but within thirty minutes the huge rodent was finally outside the designated building, hiding in bushes. It was nearly another hour before a dripping wet blue and yellow sedan silently rolled up to a stop near the hiding Maximal. "Do you really think you won't be noticed?"
"I have my lights off." The car whispered. "Just get in the hangar, get the cargo plane prepped, and open the doors for me."
"For someone who's having a favor done for them and contributing next to bupkis, you're a pretty demanding asshole." The rat grumbled before breaking in through a grate in the wall. Fifteen minutes later a hangar door slid open and the big rat poked its head out. "Come on!" The rodent whispered as loudly as he could while still having it considered a whisper. The car rolled silently into the building. While Rattrap had been able to scurry around undetected inside the hangar, a rolling sedan was immediately noticed, and guards started running toward them, yelling into walky-talkies and raising the alarm in any way they could. Nightbeat sped forward, past the plane they were intending to steal, toward the far end of the hangar where the large doors to allow entrance and entry of the planes were closed, transformed as he got there and spread the doors open, damaging them to the point of being unusable in the future.
The large rat, no longer seeing the point of being stealthy with everything falling apart around him, sprinted into the door of the plane that he had left open prior to letting Nightbeat in, transformed, and started the Gruman HU-16 Albatross's engines, directing it toward the now open doorway. Rattrap looked back at the still open door, one where he had entered through, and chuckled as he opened a channel to his partner. "Yo' Beat ol' pal, you're gonna hafta cling ta' that roof. Don't care how limber ya' think ya' are, you just ain't gettin' in here."
"Fine!" Nightbeat replied as he ran up to the plane as it passed him, and gripping the wing, climbed on. "That means you'll have to shut the door."
"Yeah yeah." Rattrap grumbled as he directed the plane to a runway and started to accelerate. "You being up there will probably make this trickier than usual, but we should be able to lift off."
"You sure you've gotten my instructions on how to fly this thing down pat?" Nightbeat nervously asked through the communicator, having to raise his voice over the sounds of the engines and the wind.
"Shaddup, I've got this!" Rattrap muttered as the plane accelerated. He quickly got up from his seat, sprinted back, shut the door and then returned to piloting the plane, just in time to start pulling up. There were a few failed attempts, but they eventually lifted off and cut through the air. "I really don't think they'll have any trouble following us, ya' know that, right?"
"We're not going far." Nightbeat replied. "If this works, we'll be leaving in another craft, and they can recover this as it floats on the water."
"Ehhh, they better pray the ocean stays calm," the buck-toothed pilot replied, "don't think this thing will float for very long if the Atlantic gets angry."
"I think that with their asset in Maryland, they've gleaned enough tech and info from Cybertron to pay off an old search and rescue plane." Nightbeat answered. "So, I won't be losing any offline time if this thing sinks."
"You might wind up permanently offline if what you're looking for isn't there and operational, or if the Americans catch up." The pilot quipped. "Or if it's there and operational and the defense measures do to us what they likely did to Flight 19."
"Quit being a pessimist." Nightbeat joked. He clung to the roof of the plane quietly after that, undoubtedly determining when they'd arrive based on speed and location and all the other factors, because literally seconds before they were approaching the coordinates of the top-secret version of where the Mariner likely was brought down he finally chimed back in. "Are we there yet?"
"Moron." Rattrap grumbled. "Yeah, we're coming up on it now." He replied just as a pillar of fire lanced up at them and cut the plane in half. Rattrap lost consciousness, but it must have been only for a moment because he woke up in the flaming cockpit, falling to the ocean below. "Oh shit!" The utterance came out just as the front piece of wreckage that he was in hit the surface, throwing him through the windshield and into the water below. He transformed to rodent mode, for whatever reason he seemed to be a better swimmer in that mode and scrambled through the water to get out from under the wreckage and back up to the surface. He didn't really have to worry about drowning, but he still felt a sense of urgency to get back to the surface. Once clear of the wreck, or at least the wreckage around him, he swung his head in all directions. "Beat! Hey Beat, where are ya' pal?" He screamed and continued to call out for the better part of an hour. Finally realizing that remaining there was futile, he started swimming west, hoping to eventually reach shore. "Sorry pal."
Shockwave
Megatron was incensed. He marched through the post-battle carnage, still a chaotic scene nearly an hour since the last Autobot transport departed into the sky, and only stopped when he came upon a wounded but still living non-Decepticon so that he could put the wretch out of its misery. Ending misery offered no consolation to the Decepticon founder, but ending lives seemed to offset the aggravation of having his carefully laid plan left in shambles, at least slightly and momentarily. "For their sakes, Doubledealer and Umbra had better have been killed by the Autobots!" He raged. This was what separated Megatron from Shockwave, this loosing of his frustration, allowing it to manifest as rage and drive him to unproductive, even counterproductive acts and words, made worse by the fact that these acts and words were observed by the other Decepticons. "They had one simple task! Just one. Kill Orion Pax. It's not like Pax was a Prime, or emir, or senator, or some other typical highborn fop hiding behind rows of guards. He's painted himself as a common man, one who enjoys being in the mix with other common men, hell, he's even bought into his own press on that front! He'd be as accessible and easy to kill as any other Autobot. How could they have slagged this up so badly?" He snarled.
"We can still give chase to the Autobots, my lord." Soundwave offered.
"Not an option!" Megatron snapped. "We've tipped out hand with Trypticon, our opportunity to catch Violen Jiger at the Pentiathan unawares is closing rapidly. Our window for dealing with the Autobots is not limited, they can and will wait until after we've destroyed the sparkeaters!" He sighed and seemed to relax. "I know you're trying to appease me my friend, but don't. Just let me vent."
"Lord Megatron!" The deep voice of the large gray and black Motormaster called out through a group of Decepticons as he pushed his way through, clutching the arm of Terminus, who apart from some dents and scorching seemed in good condition for the most part. "This guy came with the enemy, but insists you'd want to see him before we send him to the great beyond."
Megatron regarded Terminus for a moment before issuing his order. "Release him Motormaster."
The hulking black and gray Decepticon did as ordered, and Terminus stepped away from the brute and glared at Megatron with a look that nobody else could or would ever have the audacity to display to the Decepticon leader. "Look what you've done."
Megatron smirked and directed his gaze over the carnage around them before returning his optics to his old mentor. "I've struck a blow against those that have tread on our kind for millions of years. Those that have kept us down with laws and culture and governments created for the sole purpose of keeping us down and protecting their power and positions. At one time they were your enemies as well, but it appears that when it came down to taking action, you lacked the courage of your convictions."
"Don't you dare claim that this is in any way what I taught you to strive for! That this is in the service of eliminating castes and protecting the lowborn!" Terminus snarled back loudly. "You targeted innocents, commoner innocents for fourteen years! Tens of thousands murdered, and you planted evidence to implicate a group that genuinely was out to help them! And now, now when we're facing an enemy that makes all these concerns trivial, now you invite them in under the banner of military cooperation and shared salvation, under the banner of peace, guests and allies, only to treacherously betray and murder them when the far greater enemy is out there waiting to wipe us out! You're a monster, and I am ashamed I played a part in the creation of the monster you've become!"
Megatron shook his head. "Then put your mind at ease, old fool. Once again you've overestimated your impact on me and the world around you."
"Lord Megatron," the Decepticon Commander looked up at the approaching soldiers carrying a red robot missing both legs, "prisoner sir, an Autobot still able to talk. And we're thinking he's an officer." The two warriors, Vortex and Brawl, both members of Onslaught's squad and on Shockwave's list for gestalt consideration, hurled the legless Autobot at their leader's feet.
Megatron smiled down at the robot as its head twisted and sent him a glare. "Hello, my friend, what is your designation and rank?"
"Slag off!" The robot snarled.
"He is Rapido, I believe he's a platoon commander or something similar." Soundwave chimed in, walking forward to stand next to Megatron.
Rapido chuckled. "Did this info come from the two shitheads who bungled the assassination attempt on Pax, or do you have other 'Cons embedded with us?"
"Doesn't matter," Megatron quipped, "you'll be dead in a few moments, so it's not like you'll be able to report anything you get out of us in to your friends."
"Well in that case, allow me to report something to you." The doomed red Autobot groaned as he rolled to a more comfortable position, taking in the hostile faces around him. "You're an idiot. You sought to eliminate us first? You have that thing," he nodded toward the towering Trypticon in the distance, "you did a fantastic job of keeping its existence under wraps, and you decide to use the one-time element of surprise on us and not the sparkeaters? Violen Jiger knows you have it now, or he'll know in a matter of hours, long before you can get that thing and your armies to the Pentiathan. You wasted the surprise of your Titan on forces you don't need a Titan to defeat. At least, on paper, you shouldn't need your Titan to defeat us, but I think even you have come to the realization that despite your superior weapons, and warriors, and resources, you're probably going to lose to us."
Laughter erupted through the Decepticons ranks close enough to hear the prisoner's words, Shockwave looked out and saw that only himself, Terminus and Megatron were not laughing, though Megatron did bear an amused smirk. The Decepticon Commander waited until the laughter died down to a dull roar before replying. "I readily understand the opinion that we should have used Trypticon on the sparkeaters first, it was something I thought long and hard about. I'm confident I made the correct choice, we will have time to get to Violen Jiger's mountain range and catch his forces, if not unawares, un-evacuated. But it's your assertion that we'd be defeated by the Unified Forces that confuses me."
"Not the Unified Forces, just the Autobots." Rapido smirked. "And the reason I believe that, is that frankly, we have superior leadership."
The Decepticons were silent, but Megatron merely returned the smirk. "I see. You have an exceptionally high opinion of Orion Pax." The Decepticon leader shrugged. "As well you should. My opinion of him is exceptionally high as well. I have repeatedly underestimated him, and he has repeatedly made me pay for that. Today is an excellent example of this. I've learned much from your commander about the error of underestimation, and I assure you, it is a mistake I will never repeat with him. Once the sparkeater threat is removed by my Decepticons," Shockwave took note of Megatron's subtle but increasing agitation but took his possessive claim of the Decepticons being his more to spark, "I will hunt down Orion Pax and the rest of your comrades, and I will eradicate them as well. I had long considered Orion and the Autobots to be beneath me, I hold that consideration no longer. They will be found, they will be overwhelmed, and they will be destroyed. Starting with you." Megatron savagely raised his foot and drove it down upon the cranial shell of the red Autobot, smashing it and causing the torso and arms to twitch violently as its spark slowly faded away due to the absence of a functioning brain module.
"He was right." Terminus stated over the silence caused by the brutal execution. "What he said about Orion Pax defeating you, it will come to pass. You are a great warrior, you are a brilliant leader, it will be a prolonged and devastating war, but he will win. Everything I prayed for you to be, all of it, is embodied in him. The prophecy of the great leader, it was never for you."
"You've muttered about some prophesy before, old fool, but never cared to divulge it in detail." Megatron snarled as he whipped around to face his former mentor. "You will never get another opportunity, you may as well share this pointless ancient gossip now that you're convinced it no longer applies to me."
Terminus displayed a sad smile. "At the end of the second war against Deathsaurus, I was gathering the wounded. I came across a charred corpse, I grabbed it to deliver it to the smelting pool, but it started talking. As I carried it to a triage center it muttered many things, one of which was a line of rambling nonsense concerning a Prime who was promised. I recognized the voice, I had hoped he would recover so that I could ask him of his words, but I was told the patient died in that tent, and I did not have the spark to tell them that the unidentifiable melted frame in there was Primon. Ages passed, and I placed little weight on those words until nine and a half million years later when I encountered an impossibly gifted individual pulling himself out of a hotspot in a Tarnian cavern. But the recent years have convinced me that you're not a promise, you're just an incredibly gifted tyrant, nothing more."
Megatron nodded and took a few steps over to Motormaster, reaching out and gripping the handle of the gray and black Decepticon's broadsword. Shockwave looked the hulking robot over and remembered that he too was once on his list for gestalt consideration but was now beyond that point and was actually part of the group slated for the next procedure. His focus returned to Megatron, who was walking toward Terminus with sword in hand. "You seem to think that you're responsible for several of those great gifts in my possession." The Decepticon Commander stated as he stopped before the prisoner. "You're only responsible for one; my name. And I like my name, I genuinely am grateful to you for it," Megatron suddenly ran the blade through the neck of Terminus, "but that gratitude isn't enough to offset your betrayal. Good bye old friend, I hope there's some sort of afterlife out there for you, but if not, well, I won't be losing any recharge time over it." Megatron yanked the sword free of Terminus's neck and tossed it back to Motormaster, bodily fluids flipping off the blade through the air. "Prepare to disembark, the red little shit was right about one thing, the sparkeaters know about Trypticon, or they soon will."
Mindwipe
The purple thrall clacked away at the communications terminal that a cord from his neck was jacked into. "My lord, it's verified, the master is on the other line."
"Speaker." Bloodron ordered calmly as he stood several feet behind the seated Mindwipe. Laying on the floor behind Bloodron in the center of the room was the Decepticon Starscream, still occasionally writhing in pain, but his discomfort seemed to have been reduced significantly over the many hours since his initiated transformation had been cut short. "My King, how is the progress?"
"It is done, the ship provided was more than adequately fast." The voice of Violen Jiger came through the speaker on the console. "Unfortunately the return trip will take much longer, though we have been making very good progress. The…subject is fast enough so that I believe it should effectively hydroplane over the Mithril Sea."
"That's excellent to hear, my King, as we've just received confirmation that the Decepticons have mobilized and are moving out in our direction." The hulking sparkeater updated. "Even with your impressive progress, they will arrive before you by a sizable margin."
The pathetic fool Starscream started chuckling from the floor behind Bloodron. "You'll return to a decimated army of dead…well and truly dead monsters."
"How are you doing Starscream?" Violen Jiger replied with a bit of mirth in his voice. "I'm happy that you've survived thus far. I was not sure what state you'd be in after an interrupted transition."
"I'm wounded, but otherwise I feel normal." Starscream growled. "Your procedure has done nothing to me, and soon I'll either be dead or rescued. You'll never have the opportunity to make me a monster again!"
"Silence, or I'll instruct Bloodron to finish you off, leaving you nothing more than a vrykol." Violen Jiger snapped. "Bloodron!"
"My King?" Bloodron obediently replied as he sent a glare at the Decepticon prisoner.
"Hold the fortress, the Decepticons will get there before me, but I will be returning with the power to vanquish their Titan." Violen Jiger ordered.
"There will be great casualties, but the Decepticon surge will be held until you return, my King." Bloodron promised. "But please, hurry. If it's anything like the Dweller, then we will be needing you."
"I'm on my way, so far we've been fortunate in…enticing it to follow us without distraction." The sparkeater king replied. "Violen Jiger out."
Bloodron turned away from the communications console and started walking toward the door. "Take the prisoner to the dungeons."
"Yes, my lord." Mindwipe stood and walked over to Starscream, ready to kick him, but realized that there was still a chance that he would be turned into one of his masters, so settled for grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him to the door after Bloodron. "Come, Starscream of the Decepticons."
Soundwave
The Grand Convocation had been a slaughter, an interrupted slaughter thanks to the Autobots, but at no point was there anything even remotely threatening to the Decepticons in the prior day's battle. No, it wasn't a battle, at least prior to Autobot intervention Soundwave could not bring himself to consider that a battle in any sense. This however, this battle with the sparkeaters was very, very different. Aware of the Decepticon advance and that they were bolstered by a Titan, the sparkeaters had mustered an effective and brutal defense. Bloodron and his aswang generals had corralled their mindless vrykols as well as could be expected, thinning their ranks so as to mitigate the Decepticon superiority in terms of firepower, especially in regard to Trypticon, Megatron and Shockwave, and actually getting the mindless beasts to fight in some semblance of organized attacks and defenses. But most impactful was Bloodron's use of their demons. He had their Primordials swarm Devastator, not so much to fight him as to absorb his power, and had the Constructicon gestalt teetering in minutes, needing rescue from Trypticon. Trypticon would get pulled away from his push into the mountain range, and his aggregate level destruction of the sparkeater forces, and have to backtrack to protect his vastly smaller super-weapon partner. This killed hours' worth of advancement into the Pentiathan Valley and mitigated the destructive impact of Trypticon. Eventually the Decepticon Warriors Elite took up protecting Devastator, and while each Warrior Elite lacked the power levels of a Primordial, they could engage each beast and distract it enough for Devastator to land several powerful blows, which in most cases was enough to render the demon unconscious or dead.
The sparkeater strategy was effectively slowing the Decepticons down and taking a brutal toll, but the toll the monsters had been paying over the course of the last twenty hours of battle was vastly greater. Decepticons were being killed, probably well over a thousand at this point, but these were easily acceptable losses for Megatron, and the vrykol were falling in almost equal numbers, unacceptable losses given how many fewer the sparkeaters were and how potent each one was. Even the aswangs were half the number they were at the outset of the battle. Megatron realized early on that this more conservative, slow paced progression that they were forced to take was working in their favor. It may not have been the thunderous, overwhelming blitzkrieg that the Decepticons had been planning, but the sparkeater losses were vastly more than the Decepticon losses, so this war of attrition was something Megatron openly embraced. Especially as they had possessed the foresight to establish support and replenishment positions to their rear that was easily accessible to the warriors.
The mutants and other baseline Cybertronian thralls were already practically wiped out, and only a handful of the Primordials were left. Soundwave had caught sight of Chainsaw on several occasions and marveled at how what they had been informed was the most prominent thrall seemed both terrified and relieved that the masters he served were being slowly defeated. Their victory could not be considered 'too easy', the enemy was fighting savagely, the Decepticons were taking heavy losses, every aspect of their progress made perfect sense, there would be no reason for any uneasiness were it not for one thing; the absence of the sparkeater king.
The lack of Violen Jiger's presence on the battlefield had not gone unnoticed, and every officer and most grunts were constantly scanning every direction for the unexpected appearance of the three-faced juggernaut. In most battles he was present for, Violen Jiger held back and watched unless his intervention was required, but even when he remained a spectator he always made his presence known. His ominous glare and cruel grin was seen over many a Decepticon defeat in the last few years, and many were wishing to see the expressions he'd present at his first battlefield loss. But thirty hours since their march began, and twenty hours since the two armies engaged one another, there had been absolutely no sign of the monster-king.
As slow going as the battle had been, the Decepticons had finally pushed their way into the Valley a couple hours before, a hard-fought gaining of ground that had cost many valiant warriors, but at seeing Trypticon finally able to target and eradicate the sparkeaters en-masse, it was well worth the price. This had been the sparkeaters' home for the last few years, but it was an area well known to the Decepticon leadership and held a special place in their own young mythos. Soundwave turned his head toward the cry of what appeared to be the last remaining primordial falling beneath the thunderous purple fists of the giant Devastator, the combined form of Scrapper's laborers was still a marvel for Soundwave to watch. He had never thought it possible that the hypothesis's Shockwave presented could be remotely true, much less understated compared to the strength and durability levels that they actually achieved. True, Devastator was slow, awkward and quite simple intellectually, odd given that the intellects of Hook, Scrapper and Mixmaster were quite impressive, but the overall battlefield effectiveness was awesome. Awesome, but still a tiny fraction of the dominance that Trypticon was displaying. With less room and fewer places to hide within the confines of the valley, the remaining sparkeaters were falling quickly beneath Trypticon's stomps, fire and ordinance. True, most of the creatures weren't entirely dead at that point, but their damage was such that they were easy to pick off for the other Decepticons, who after years of fighting the creatures were quite adept at exposing and destroying the corrupted sparks. The slow battle of attrition was finally giving way to the Decepticon surge that Megatron had been planning for over a year. The payoff was already tasting sweet. Bloodron, who had done an admirable job to this point, was clearly exhausted and looking defeated, and seeing that etched on his bestial face was glorious to Soundwave and undoubtedly to all other Decepticons who witnessed it. Only the realization that Violen Jiger remained at large diminished what they were feeling, but in time they would track him down and end his existence. Without his army he was powerful, but his absence confirmed him to be a coward, and there was always a way to defeat a coward.
"Soundwave, be advised…" Blast Off's voice came through the inter-officer channel, "I'm picking up something coming your way. Seems some sort of scout ship is leading a…not sure, but something much, much bigger, toward the Pentiathan from the northwest. Traveling over four hundred miles per hour, it'll make the outskirts of the mountain range in minutes, likely emerging through Mounts Kledji and Sevax."
Soundwave looked over across the battlefield where Megatron was standing over a downed and defeated orange aswang, his fusion cannon pointed down at the creature's chest. The cannon fired, the bolt cut through the beast's battered armor and blew his spark, and the chest around it, to pieces. Megatron himself was sent staggering back by the explosion, but he immediately got his bearings and turned to deliver a look to Soundwave, the look letting the blue former royal know that the Decepticon Commander had received Blast Off's message. Megatron raised his wrist to his mouth. "Decepticons! Look to the northwest, between Kledji and Sevax! Two objects inbound, a craft and something vastly larger! They will be emerging in minutes, be ready to treat them, whatever they may be, as hostiles!"
Decepticon fliers, led by Thundercracker, Thunderwing and others shot out to the northwest on an intercept course, and just as they reached the peaks in the distance they began opening fire. "Soundwave, this is Thundercracker!"
"Report!" Soundwave replied, looking to Megatron and verifying that he was listening as well.
"High speed luxury craft inbound, fast but otherwise harmless." The flier reported. "Few miles beyond, apparently chasing it, is…a worm. Best description I can give. A mechanical worm on par with Trypticon in terms of mass!"
At that moment a fiery wreck shot through the Decepticon fliers and exploded over Mount Kledji, three large insects emerging from the flaming debris and speeding down toward the battle below. "My king!" Bloodron cried out triumphantly. "We are saved!" The three insects merged into the forty-foot form of Violen Jiger, who looked over his decimated forces and gave a weak smile.
"A heavy price, but you kept us from complete destruction." The sparkeater king called out to his second as they approached each other. "You've done well, old friend."
"Trypticon!" Megatron called out. "Advance northwest and destroy what approaches!"
"Megatron of Tarn!" Violen Jiger roared. "You have done well, far better than I could have expected, you almost won!" The three-faced giant turned around toward the direction that he had just come from, as the overwhelming sounds of millions of tons of displaced metal and rock thundered over the mountain tops and into the valley they were all nestled within. Suddenly a portion of Mount Sevax's northeaster peak exploded, sending metal and rock spraying into the valley like rain, and as Soundwave was able to turn his gaze back in that direction, he saw the horrifying sight of a massive head with an open eight-sectioned beak housing grinding bladed teeth, all attached to the top of what had to be an enormous conical body, a few thin tendril-like limbs on the sides. The beast looked down on them all and roared in furious rage, then caught site of Trypticon and roared even more dominantly. "Almost, brave Megatron!" Violen Jiger called out once again. "But your advantage crumbled before the Dweller of the Depths!"
