Worlds Apart

Stand Divided

"Why'd we leave him!" howled Hot Shot, tossing another random object at the wall.

"Hot Shot, please," whispered Prowl. "We didn't have a choice!"

"Yes, we did!" hissed Hot Shot, standing in front of Prowl with clenched fists.

They were taken to a Decepticon base underneath the underground tunnels. The lack of windows made the base darker and more mysterious. In some areas the lights were bright and in others barely functioned. They'd been escorted to a command room full of computers, screens, holograms, data pads and once soldiers. All the soldiers were ordered to leave as soon as the three arrived.

"We left him at the hands of those…those…"

"Go ahead and say Autobots!" ordered Prowl, pushing Hot Shot slightly. "I dare ya!"

"Guys! Please!" begged Perceptor. "There are better ways to do this!"

"Glad to see you haven't broken anything of much importance."

The two arguing bots turned to the entrance where their old "friend" stood waiting. Opposite gave a weak smile but entered slowly with optics on the object closest to Hot Shot. The object was a mere data pad. Hot Shot growled, lifting the data pad and flinging it at the Decepticon's head. Opposite ducked in time to miss the projectile before it hit his head.

"This is your fault!" howled Hot Shot. "You and the rest of this world!"

"What?" whimpered Opposite, standing up straight.

"Optimus is gone 'cause of you!" hissed Hot Shot, looking for something else to throw.

"Optimus isn't completely gone," Opposite assured. "The Autobots will still want that chip."

"The chip!" growled Hot Shot.

"Who cares about the slagging chip anymore!" grumbled Prowl. "We just want to get Optimus and go home."

"I'm sorry," Opposite whispered. "But that may be harder than you think."

"I don't care! I just want this whole thing to disappear and return home," huffed Hot Shot.

"I'm beginning to agree with them. I'm tired of this dimension traveling nonsense," whispered Perceptor.

"Well, it's too late for that," hissed Opposite. "You four are trapped in this until the trans-dimensional weapon is destroyed!"

"Fine, but Prime comes first," grumbled Hot Shot.

"Agreed," nodded Opposite. "But first, my command wishes a word with you three."

"Your…commander?" mumbled Hot Shot.

"Yes," replied Opposite, swiveling on his heels. "We mustn't delay. He doesn't like being put on hold."

Opposite exited the room quickly with hands behind his back. Hot Shot and Prowl exchanged looks. Perceptor sighed, tired of the two's mind link conversations. He jumped to his feet and followed after Opposite. Hot Shot groaned as the scientist left, chasing after in haste. Prowl sighed and followed the others with little care.

"So," Hot Shot hummed when he finally caught up with the others. "Who is your commander?"

"I think it best not to mention names just yet," whispered Opposite.

"Do you have a real name?" Perceptor asked. "Other than Opposite?"

"My name is Techno Storm," sighed Opposite. "And the one you call DJ is known as Sonic Blast."

"Interesting," nodded Hot Shot. "But we're still going to call you Opposite and DJ."

"I understand that," mumbled Opposite. "I'm sure when you meet my commander you'll understand how opposite this world is."

"Who is your commander?" asked Prowl, finally catching up.

"Ask him yourself," snapped Opposite. "We're here."

They entered a large, round room. Even with the lack of windows, the room glowed with the bright blue from the lights of the hologram projection table. Computers lines the walls but this time with bots addressed to each. One bot stood at the hologram table, entranced in thought. The sapphire lights lit up his shadowed face, defining his even brighter blue optics. His silver armor danced with the shadows and the aqua light.

"Megatron, sir," Opposite saluted. "Your guests…"

"Ah, yes," smiled Megatron, standing up straight. "Due come in."

"Megatron," whispered the three.

"Now, I understand my name may mean something very different for you three than it does here," Megatron chuckled. "But I assure you that I am not going to harm you in any way."

"Right," Prowl groaned. "As if this whole thing didn't make enough nonsense as it is."

"So if you're in charge of the good Decepticons…" mumbled Hot Shot. "That means that…"

"Optimus Prime is charge of the bad Autobots!" gasped Perceptor. "Oh, this world just gets worse and worse!"

"So Optimus got captured by Optimus?" questioned Prowl.

"We need more nicknames," whimpered Hot Shot, holding his head.

"We're trying our best to get the young Prime back before it's too late, I promise you that!" growled Megatron, slamming a fist against the hologram table.

"How do we know if he's still on line," whispered Perceptor.

"He is!" snapped Hot Shot.

"Hot Shot's right," nodded Megatron. "Our Optimus wouldn't be dumb enough to toss his own double ganger into the smelting pit. At least, not until he's finished his device."

"That dimensional jumping thing, right?" asked Prowl. "Prime had the final chip, though."

"But Prime isn't foolish enough to get himself captured while he was in possession of the chip," Hot Shot whispered.

"What are you trying to say?" Prowl gasped.

"That Prime left the chip somewhere or with someone," huffed Hot Shot.