Primus Inter Pares
Chapter 2
"Betrayal is perhaps the bitterest poison of all..." -Anon.
Decepticon warship "Nemesis", z-minus fifteen days
The corridors of Nemesis echoed with heavy footfalls, a sound full of brooding menace. The sound was both deadened and amplified by the crushing weight of the ocean around the vast battleship, throwing it out into the empty corridors at odd angles, lending the reverberating sound a ghostly quality. It sounded like the heartbeat of some vast god. The thought brought a thin smile to the features of the sounds originator.
Groups of Decepticons parted before him, falling silent, their conversations or arguments left unattended as their leader passed by. Megatron's white and chrome armoured form was imposing, true, but even more so was his reputation, which preceded him like a bow wave. It inspired awe, fear, or loathing in all he passed, or at least a mixture of the three. None dared oppose him, all too fearful of the instant and lethal reprisal that awaited those foolish enough to try.
Megatron strode toward the entrance of his throne room, angry thoughts filling him with dark purpose. The whelp, Starscream, had summoned him here, claiming to have uncovered a traitor in the ranks of his warriors. Megatron's optics flashed red at the thought; traitors could not, would not, be tolerated. Charging his particle cannon, Megatron threw wide the doors of the throne chamber, and stalked over the threshold. Justice would be meted out this day.
Megatron was some five paces inside the room by the time he realised that it was empty. Five more paces, and he prepared to call for Starscream and berate him for calling him here for nothing. A pace later, and the deck began to shake. Megatron turned sharply, ready for action, but was caught completely unaware by the gargantuan form of Devastator. The enormous gestalt mech kicked out at Megatron with surprising speed, catching the much smaller warrior full in the chest. So here was the traitor!
White sparks flashed in Megatron's vision as the shattering impact connected, and he was aware of powerless flight for the first time in an age. As he was thrown across the throne room, Megatron snapped off a series of shots in the direction of his attacker, before crashing into the deck plating. By some miracle, two of the shots were on target, one glancing from his attacker's left shoulder, the other impacting squarely on his green and purple chest plate.
The shots were nowhere near powerful enough to do Devastator any serious harm, but they gave Megatron a moment's reprieve, and that was all he needed. From his prostrate position, Megatron kicked both of his legs into the air, flipping himself up and into a combat-ready crouch. He glared up at the massive traitor; he had always known that the Constructicons were untrustworthy, but this was a new development. He called up to their combined form, hoping to assert a little control over his predicament.
"What is the meaning of this?" Megatron demanded, whilst priming his cannon for another series of shots. "You dare to attack me? Insolent fools! You will pay for this, Constructicons, and you will pay dearly."
"Silence!" bellowed the vast mech in reply. "Devastator is superior, Megatron inferior! You will be replaced! Prepare for extermination!" Devastator began to stride toward Megatron, reaching down with one massive gauntlet to grab his former leader. Megatron had no intention of giving him the chance.
The silver-white mech reacted with lightning speed, bringing his cannon up and unleashing a hail of shots at Devastator's head. As the torrent of cohesive energy bolts flew straight at his optics, Devastator was forced to stop his attack, bringing up his arms to shield his face. Megatron reacted immediately, using the opportunity to get to a new vantage point. He threw himself to his left, diving into a roll and bringing himself back up into a firing position with fluid grace.
As Devastator opened his optics again, he was briefly aware that his target was no longer there, before a series of tightly packed shots slammed into his right side. Most of them merely impacted upon his armoured flank, doing only minimal damage. One, however, made contact with a little known power relay just beneath his arm, and hit with enough force to bring about the one thing that the Constructicons had hoped to avoid: forced separation. Combined, Megatron stood no chance against them. In their separate forms, however, he would literally take them apart. And from the expression of raw, vindictive rage that the six traitors saw upon his features as they separated, Megatron was planning on doing just that.
But he never got the chance. Before Megatron could fire a single shot, a barrage of shells blasted into his back, sending him sprawling forward. He turned as he landed, and gained a glimpse of Swindle stepping from the shadows of one of the alcoves that lined the throne room. A second set of shots slammed into him from two different directions, as Vortex and Blastoff stepped from their own hiding places. In moments, all five of the Combaticon team were in the room. Seeing just how badly outnumbered he was, Megatron felt the seed of panic begin to take root.
His mind reeling, Megatron frantically searched for a way out. In the throne room, there was enough room to fit several giant-class mechs like Bruticus and Devastator. Against one of them, he stood a slim chance, as he knew and could exploit their weak points. But together... he needed to get them into the confined corridors of the main ship. There, the traitors couldn't combine, and they would be no match for him. Or for his loyal warriors.
Megatron broke into a run, throwing shots at Brawl and Scavenger, who had moved to block his exit. Brawl moved out of the way surprisingly fast considering his bulky form, but Scavenger was not so fortunate. A bolt of energy tore through his shoulder, spinning him on the spot, spraying splinters of bright green armour and a mist of coolant fluid as he fell. Megatron didn't break his stride, ignoring the scattered shots that flew around him in his flight. He ate up the distance to the throne room entrance, each step taking him closer to freedom; twenty metres, fifteen, ten. Megatron surged forward, hoping to throw the doors open with his momentum and escape.
The doors opened before he ever got there. As the doors swung toward him, Megatron scrambled to a halt, preparing to demand aid from the newcomer. The cry died on his lips, however, as he saw who was entering. Starscream stood in the threshold, a sardonic smile gracing his features. He was flanked by his younger brothers, Skywarp and Thundercracker, who had been the ones to open the twin doors. The younger Seekers glared balefully at Megatron, their intentions clear. This was all Starscream's doing.
"What's wrong, mighty Megatron?" the grey and red mech crooned, his voice deliberately light. To either side of him, his brothers spread out, surrounding Megatron. "Is there some kind of trouble? Some dissension in the ranks?"
"What is the meaning of this, Starscream?" Megatron hissed.
"I think you know, oh wise and powerful leader," Starscream simpered. His comment obviously struck a note of humour with Skywarp, who broke into an evil grin. Thundercracker simply glared at his former master, his optics full of hatred. Starscream continued. "We are taking over. Or, rather, I am taking over. Your rule over the Decepticons has gone on for far too long. It's time for a new regime, Megatron. Out with the old, in with the new."
"So it's treason, then," Megatron said, his voice low and menacing, then rising to a roar. "You will pay for this, traitor. I will tear you apart, limb from limb. I will flay your hide, tear out your circuits and crush them, one by one. I will..."
"Save your threats, Megatron!" Starscream snapped, cutting off his former commander's tirade. "You have no more power here." He looked up and past Megatron's head, and nodded once. An instant later, and Bruticus's black-armoured paw slammed Megatron into the decking, pinning him in place. Megatron had been so intent on Starscream, that he hadn't heard Onslaught even give the command to combine. Starscream knelt next to him, intimately whispering into his audio pick-up.
"You know, Megatron," he said, "I have waited for this for a very long time. For centuries, I have watched your failures, put up with your blame and your insults, and waited for this day. Of course, I had to make certain promises, but in the end, every last one of your loyal lapdogs has fallen in line with my plan."
"Liar!" Megatron hissed, attempting to struggle free of the giant's grip, to no effect.
"Really, mighty Megatron," Starscream said, standing and walking away from his former leader. He spread his arms wide, a sweeping gesture designed to take in the whole throne room, which Megatron noticed was slowly filling with Decepticons. "Do you honestly believe, for even an instant, that I would be stupid enough to attempt this without support, without an army behind me to weed out those who might still support you. True, I have attempted to take over before, and failed every time. Now, I can't fail. Your time is done, Megatron, over and finished. You've lost your last fight."
"I will find a way, Starscream," Megatron hissed. "I will have my revenge for this insolence!" Starscream knelt next to his prone form once more, whispering to Megatron, uncontrolled malice bleeding from every word.
"I quiver with fear," he said. "As I said, you have no more power here. This is my time now. And you will suffer for all you have done..."
O o O o O
Z-minus fourteen days
Jazz loved the open road, there was no denying it. For him, it was his natural habitat, hard-wired into his very being at a molecular level. On a day like this, with cloudless blue skies as far as his optics could see, and no artificial structure for miles, Jazz truly appreciated the beauty of this planet Earth. Deciding that a little music was in order, Jazz mentally accessed his radio system, rapidly scanning the local stations for something decent to listen to. After a few minutes of searching, he settled for a Bruce Springsteen number, turned up the volume, and began to accelerate slightly. Cruising at seventy-five miles per hour, he hoped to be at the Holt Institute in just under four hours. Until then, Jazz intended to enjoy the ride.
Some three miles ahead, the scenery was less than peaceful. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe thundered down the highway, windows open and stereos blaring. They kept at least twenty metres apart, in part to not draw too much attention to themselves, but mostly because they had just had an argument, and Sunstreaker didn't want to talk. Both were playing their choice of music as loud as possible, as though continuing the argument through sheer volume.
In front, Sunstreaker was in a bad mood, and it showed. He had rolled his windows down, and had turned his CD player up to the point where the vibrations were starting to hurt. He had been playing Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit repeatedly for nearly twenty minutes, just letting the noise wash over him, even humming along at points in an effort to calm himself. His twin would say it was an odd choice of music for relaxation. But then, Sunny thought, what would he know?
Sideswipe watched his brother, feeling a small degree of guilt without quite knowing why. He had only intended for his comment to yank Sunny's chain a little; he hadn't intended for Sunny to fly into a rage like he had. Part of Sideswipe just felt like letting Sunny get on with his sulking, taking a different route to their destination and trying to reconcile with his brother later. The rest of him, the part that had turned up his Linkin Park album until the volume matched his brother, wanted to pull over and hash things out now. He loved his brother, but there were days he hated him in equal measure.
Sunstreaker watched as his brother fell further behind, then pulled over and stopped altogether. For a moment, Sunny considered leaving him there, but thought better of it. As he stopped, then began reversing toward his twin, he saw Sideswipe begin to transform, and followed suit. As he walked the last few yards to his brother's side, shielding his optics from the late afternoon sun, Sunny saw an expression of deep pain etching his features, and decided to take a slightly gentler approach.
"Wassup," Sunny asked, a little gruffer than he had meant to. If his brother was hurt, then he wanted to help if he could. "You got a flat tyre or somethin'?"
"You can be such a pain in the aft, you know that?" Sideswipe said in a wounded tone. Sunstreaker tensed, instantly expecting his brother to start a fight. "Why do you have to be like that? Slaggin' around I can take, but ripping my head off like that for no good reason..." For Sunny, it all came flooding back.
"No good reason, huh?" he snapped. "You said I looked like Bumblebee! If you think for a second that I'm gonna take that..."
"You need your audio pick-up checked, bro," Swipe cut in. "I said that your new paint job looked a bit like Bumblebee's. And if you had let me finish, instead of screaming merry Pit at me, you'd have misheard me say that with the new form, it really suits you. I was paying you a compliment, Sunny, and you ripped my head off."
"I'm... I'm sorry," Sunny tried, a little stunned, but was cut off again.
"You do this all the time!" Swipe snapped, his voice rising quickly to a yell. "I'll admit, some of it's my fault, I know I annoy you sometimes, but you have got to stop over-reacting to every damned little thing. Have you got any idea how much it hurts when you do that? We share a spark, for Primus' sake. It really tears me up. Just once, try being my brother for three days straight, instead of having an 'arrogant warrior' moment, okay?" Sideswipe slumped as he finished, his tirade leaving him feeling drained. He looked wearily into Sunstreaker's blue optics, trying to read his brother's expression and failing. When he spoke again, Swipe's voice was nearly a whisper.
"You can rag on me for this if you want, hit me if it'll make you feel better, I don't care any more, Sunny. You're my brother, and I love you. I just wish we could stop fighting like this. Even if only for a little while." Sideswipe moved to his left, and began to walk past Sunstreaker, hoping that Sunny wouldn't start on him. He stepped forward, but before he could get past his brother, Sunny lifted his right arm and gently placed the palm of his black gauntlet against Sideswipe's chest plate.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, turning his head slightly toward his brother. "I don't know why I am the way I am. But I'm sorry I hurt you, okay?" Sunstreaker moved his hand up, until it rested against Swipe's left cheek-plate.
"I'll try to change, alright?" he said, meeting his younger sibling's gaze. For a moment, Sideswipe saw the mech that he had grown up with, the fun loving 'bot that had been. He smiled, and nodded to Sunny, who let go of Sideswipe for a moment, turning to face the same way as his twin and snaking his left arm around the red mech's shoulders. He pulled Swipe toward him for a brief instant, then let go altogether and started walking toward the road.
"Come on, we'd better get moving," he called back to Sideswipe. He then gave his twin a sly grin, and asked "So, you really think the new form looks okay?"
"Yep," Sideswipe answered.
"Aww, that's sweet," Sunstreaker said sarcastically, before rolling his head onto it's left side and doing his best to look cute, and saying "You think I look pretty!" Before Sideswipe could throw back a retort, Sunny had transformed and was gone.
"Good to have you back, bro," he whispered after a second, then transformed himself and followed Sunstreaker.
O o O o O
High above the twins, a small, bird-like silhouette passed briefly in front of the sun. Buzzsaw had been out on a routine patrol, searching for a viable energon source that the Decepticons could raid, when he had spotted the twins. Immediately, the spy cassette had gained altitude, hoping not to be spotted by the arguing Autobots. As the red and yellow mechs resumed their vehicle forms, Buzzsaw shifted position slightly, deliberately keeping himself between the Autobots and the sun, hiding in the star's glare.
It was unusual to see the Autobots so far from their base in so few numbers. His interest piqued, Buzzsaw decided to follow the pair of sports cars and find out what they were doing. As he began to move after them, Buzzsaw noticed another sports car heading in the same direction. This one was white with a blue racing stripe; the one they called Jazz. So there were more of them. The spacing of the enemy vehicles could only mean that they were trying to avoid detection. The question was, why? Determined to find out, Buzzsaw picked up speed and began following the three Autobots.
Authors notes: Transformers and all related characters are the property of Hasbro/HasTak Inc. and their affiliates. Linkin Park, Limp Bizkit and of course Bruce Springsteen, are also not owned by me (it'd be scary if they were, though!)
Thanks for reading this far, hope you enjoyed. Please read and review, there's a cookie in it for you if you do!