Now you see that not all 'Cons are bad :)
But we're still looking forward to Sol and Fera's reunion right?
Thought so.
Enjoy! :)
Of The Spark And Heart
Part 1
Chapter 34
Time.
What a curious thing it is.
One could perish from it, or grow from it, or lose or gain from it. Life was a meaning of time- time given to a being to do with a they please, but limited in amount. A specific stretch of it was given to a creature, under their knowing, restricted to a special occasion that only the Fates could control. Time wore on the core, reshaping it as it waned on, yet keeping its original direction throughout its cycle. Plans turned to reality, moving along the course chosen until their time ran out. Destiny, wasn't it called?
Time came to the consciousness in forms of love; in forms of hate; in forms of hope. There was a matter of this time that each lasted, never to reach the length the holder wished it be. Truth meant everything to time, as if the bounded destiny was set in this same path that time took. Time withdrew sanity; time withdrew innocence. As it itself droned on, life took on positions left for time, but stolen as another. Evolution thrived along time, drawing from it the wills of survival and molding it into the cradles of sentience. Waiting folds of the universe unwound slowly, yielding to the thirst of the many over this time in the form of legend and tales. Yet these stories were far from that: stories. This was life. As so, time became life.
But nonetheless, time took more than it gave. It stole life, and it stole justice. Many mourn the glistening muck that created time, its loop, and the abyss. The abyss was when time began, and where it ended. Recycled time ran for generations through space itself, broken into a being's life with no care to their trust or wishes. It ran through the bonds connecting elements of the universe, mixing inconspicuously along in everything and anything. It could not be touched, and it could not be seen, therefore it could not be changed. But what if it could? What if time meant nothing and it was possibly altered? What condition would it require to take on the sickly humor of time?
What meaning has it for me? The quiet thoughts bled into the mind of the young form, obscuring their comprehension and blending with their ideals. Do I breathe as one, or as another? To break into time meant to leave what I've known. I've been told that knowing is wisdom, yet wisdom comes only through broken innocence. The blissful ways of innocence could never be completely broken, even by horrendous and immoral virtues. Yet most sanity brings bliss and comes from innocence. Wisdom brings knowledge and responsibilities far beyond the prior wish for life. Many of which dreams who die in their beginning stages never renew themselves and wither before a thickened skin. Life has ways of telling times of cruelty before that of pleasant hope. Before the true path of one's being is to be revealed in all its completeness, it is to experience that of those before it. To grow into who had come beyond obstacles would require the pure defiance of one's soul.
Without the balance of these worlds, they realized this truth could not be. The happening of one needs the balance of the other. Like Yin and Yang. Most would deny the balance and dive to which there can only be chaos. Prevention of entirety would only result in utter destruction and failure to remain. Light and dark work in this way, as do the values of good and evil. Yet resistance, when powerful enough, may move this impossible force. It may change the wills of the worlds and create which should not be before it can become apart of the story of destiny and time. I don't know anyone who's done this, they realized groggily. But isn't there always hope somewhere, somehow? Creation cannot begin without destruction. And in this circle, the maker of what should be fights with the creator of what will be. The path begins where it shouldn't have. The journey told breaks free before impossibility. A non-existence pushes on despite the forces of the maker and creator.
Time is a bitch, they decided.
"Poke me one more time, I swear I'm going to rip whatever that thing is and chuck it out the window." the growl was fierce and muffled, hidden by the flesh of the teen's arms, but the message was clear enough. One shockingly blue eye cracked open and watched as the seat belt Rodimus produced slithered back from the air to disappear back to its place. She huffed at the 'Bot, returning her face to her makeshift pillow of limbs before giving a sigh. Broken from her dream, strange as it was, made her irritated and grouchy. It was a confusing wisp of meanings and images, but she couldn't even figure it out before Rodimus continued to check on her. If she wasn't dead five minutes ago, why should she be now? She predicted it had been hours after their escape, time given to her as a means of pure, unadulterated rest for the first time in a long while. She snorted. Time.
Fera Lennox now lay on her stomach in Rodimus' back seat, her head cupped in her forearms while her legs bent in an awkwardly, but strangely comfortable way. She could barely move, too sore to try anything animated. Her shoulders ached in a constant, but silent array of cries. Her upper back and spine pulsed numbly, the skin flicking spastically every so often. A soft ringing echoed in her ears, while an erratic headache sent sharp waves through her skull. Whenever she could, she avoided the various marks on her marred skin, including every disgustingly flakey scab darkening the milky white color. Her mangled ankle rested on the window at her feet, carefully placed so not to move too much.
After Titanios had taken her from the chains, he'd handed her off to Rodimus, who proceeded to hide her in a small space broken into his armoring. Cramped and trapped, Fera crouched low and began to quietly pray to herself. She'd known it had been some grotesque wound made by the Decepticons for the mech, but he didn't complain as he tucked her away. It had been darkness from there, followed by a lot of jumping and plenty of bone-jarring movement. Words slipped through the cracks of Rodimus' plating, fuzzy and barely audible.
"What is this? Why do you have the prisoner?" it was an unfamiliar voice, maybe that of a guard or other Decepticon she'd never seen. Rodimus jerked again and Fera slapped her hands over her mouth, digging her nails deeply into the skin of her cheeks as she fought back a low moan of pain. Her body whined with stiffness and a throbbing discomfort while her mind spun viciously. She felt herself shaking, sweat beading down her forehead and neck. Possibilities, none bright, filed around aimlessly in her mind, filling her with a fright that caused her joints to freeze and her body to turn to ice. "Arachnid has ordered I return him to his cell. He is no longer of need to us and shall be sent to the smelting pits as soon as we have our next supplies transport." Titanios lied, his voice hard and unemotional. Fera let her head fell back, her eyes closing as she tried desperately to control her breathing and speeding heartbeat.
"The human is deadspark then? Where we able to retrieve anything from her?"
"Yes." Fera flinched at Titanios' quick answer, "The human perished during a recent session and her Autobot peer has now officially served his purpose." a chill went down Fera's spine at the pure indifference in Titanios' tone. She couldn't tell if it was because he was a Decepticon, or if it were some disturbing, natural talent, but Titanios was a skilled fibber. He was so convincing that Fera found herself almost trusting him, despite what she'd known and felt before. "Good, that pest's screaming was giving me a cranialache. I wish I could have shut her up myself." Fera's heart skipped a beat at the seeming delight that entered on the edge of the 'Cons voice. Her hand shot to her neck, where she began to rub the spot and swallow the desert on her tongue. As her thumb brushed the arch-shaped scar on her collarbone, she paused, beginning to trace it to divert her thoughts. The unknown Decepticon suddenly began to laugh, joined by Titanios not long after. It was a forced sound, Fera could tell. It was too stiff and unnatural to truly be real.
Rodimus emitted a series of horrible moans and laments that had Fera growing still where she hid. She dared not move, but held on to whatever insides of his that she could so as to have a more solid stance inside his gaping wound. Her eyes trailed the small bulb of light that peeked between the jagged edges of Rodimus' injury. Fera couldn't tell if the mech was faking these noises, or if Fera was somehow causing them just by her being there. "You and me both Astrotrain, you and me both." Titanios continued to chuckle as Rodimus' body began to move again. Fera knew they didn't have much time, so the fact that Titanios was pressing on so quickly meant he realized that too.
Why did he care about her? She was a mere human here, something to play with until she broke. He could possibly lose his life because of this, yet even though he knew this, he still did it anyway. But why? Fera was grateful he was doing what he was, she didn't think she couldn't be. However, she didn't think she could take being responsible for yet another life. It was just a matter of time before they found the results of their risk. Arachnid could find them, stop them, and end each life at the flick of her devilish claws. Any Decepticon could see that Titanios was lying and hold him back in suspicion.
However, though it seemed like years -breathless, heart-stopping, terrifying, honestly nauseating years-, they made it through without much pause. Titanios was somehow able to reverse the lock on Rodimus' alt mode and the 'Bot transformed, with an unsteady Fera placed inside soon after. Titanios hooked Rodimus to him, allowing the two mechs to move on past the entrance with an easier trek. As they moved down the side of the rocky face of the hill, Fera was strapped in tight by Rodimus' seat belts. They helped ease the shocking jerks and jumps sent through the cabin, but Fera's body still leapt a considerable height and rocked along with Rodimus' bouncing car frame.
It took only minutes to scale down the rough path, filled with the many rolling waves of earth and barrages of creaking hops. But when it ended, Titanios sped off on the banks below as is he knew nothing of the word slow. His and those he drug behind depended their lives on him now, and Fera felt her fear rising again with each second the Decepticon base was less than a mile away from them. She pressed herself to the seat for the first hour at least, her arms locked by solid will to hold herself against Rodimus' padded cushions. Her lips had been crushed together in a deep frown, while her eyes stared ahead in a refusal to dare look back. The skin on her body vibrated in small shakes while the cold of the sweat on her brow kept her awake and alert.
But eventually, Fera forced herself into the back, laying out as she did now in a way that never felt more heavenly. She hadn't considered leather could feel so soft compared to the unforgiving feel of steel and chains. "We hadn't rescued you to die so soon Fera, remember that. You're important for a reason, and I plan on finding out." Rodimus opted, snapping Fera back to her foggy state of awareness. Giving a soft sigh, Fera snuggled back into the crooks of her elbows, not paying any attention to the mech's words. She was just so tired and sick of the pain...
"You realize your heart stopped while we were leaving the base, don't you?"
Her eyes shot open.
"If it weren't for the Stone of Primus, I am sure you would have perished there. It won't let you die yet will it? Why?"
"I...don't...what are you talking about?" she was fading again. Fast. Damn blood loss, she growled mentally.
"Haven't you heard the legend? The tales of the Stone and its relations with Primus? You hold the artifact, yet you know nothing of the truths of..."
There couldn't have been a worst time to black out.
Scrap sat scattered along the empty room, two chains that once hang from the dented ceiling, a crumpled and burnt excuse of an operations table, shelves once holding boxes or various things, tools planted into the face of the wall, and the everlasting hum of the energon converter just below. Moving on through the paths, one would see the scores running across the walls of the halls and the spluttering, pitiful rain of sparks that was the cables of the lights. Dents there, collapsed cables or columns here. Limp forms sagged against the corners of the destruction's way, unconscious with caved armoring on their bodies. The lesser fortunate had gruesome slashes across the fronts of their shells.
Those who were luckier than their counterparts cowered in other closets or off in their personal barrack to avoid the one being responsible for this show of violence. A shadow crossed the face of an open door, overpassing the faceplates of a terrified soldier as he pressed himself against the frame. His crimson optics bobbed in the dark and his vents shuddered at the silhouette. He jumped slightly as the figure moved past, striding with smooth, but angry steps towards the front of the base. The curved shape of her armor held six hovering leg-like appendages on her upper spinal support, their tips sharpened to a point. They swayed with her fast pace, curling over her in an impressive and intimidating display.
She whipped around, flashing her dangerously bright optics in the gloom and twisting her slim faceplates into that of pure hatred. The fembot spun on her heelpeds, grabbing an unsuspecting mech from before her and throwing him over her shoulderbolt almost effortlessly. A reverberating clash of metal stuck the air, clashing on the audio receptors like a clap of thunder. The mech was knocked out instantly when he hit the barrier, going on to limply slide down onto his aft. Another infuriated screech split the still, grating the audio receptors of each mech who occupied the closer area, including the fembot herself. But she didn't care. She could only see the disgusting failures before her and the sheen of lividness over her vision. Hunching her shoulderbolts, she snarled at those who she knew were waiting in the halls. She couldn't see them, but she knew they were there, hiding like the useless dastards they were.
They couldn't handle anything apparently. The smallest task she'd given them, and they'd failed! "Guard the human," she'd told them. "Make sure she doesn't disappear" she'd told them. They were allowed shifts and chances to rest between their duties. But even with an entire structure of soldiers, warriors -both fembot and mech-, and mini-cassettes, no one stopped the traitor. However that wasn't the point ,was it? It was the fact that these...these puny, insignificant dolts hadn't met her expectations again! It gave Arachnid a cranialache how angrily frustrated she was. How had Megatron dealt with this insignificant buffoons, she couldn't fathom.
Unable to bear looking at her troglodyte peers any longer, Arachnid gave a frustrated yell and pivoted on her heelped. Finally, finally she'd been given the chance of retrieving an Autobot priority, and what had happened? Her Decepticon imbeciles lost that wonderful opportunity. It had felt so good to make that human scream; to make her writhe and squirm in agony with an unspoken plead for her life on the tips of her fleshy lips. It was as if Arachnid were finally getting her retribution against those accursed and self-righteous 'Bots. She was able to hold the life of something they cared about in the palm of her servo, with just a simple flick of her digits to sever that human's wretched existence...
Arachnid growled lowly to herself, curling in her digits to the point where they began to tremble. It was a delicious feeling, holding that long-awaited power in her grasp. The defiance of the female human made it all that much more enjoyable, knowing she was powerless to do a thing against her captor, Arachnid. Now, with her gone and Rodimus missing as well, that step over the Autobots that Arachnid had waited so long for was out of her reach. Arachnid didn't like it when her playthings were taken from her. This one hit harder than it should have, she knew. But there was a reason that human was important to her adversaries, and she'd vowed to discover it. What part of "guard the human" had they not understood? A simple order! One, single, puny task...
"Find the traitor!" she commanded with a flash of her optics, bellowing into each room as she passed. A few followed her to the hall, but none risked getting close to her steaming aggravation. She landed a few more kicks or strikes to the walls before she actually made it to where she was aiming for, further back into the rear of the base and away from the mass of Cybertronians. Giving a furious rumble of her chassis, Arachnid leapt to the side and grabbed a mech without warning, yanking him down to his kneebolts so he would be below her like the low rank he was.
"Send this message to the rest of my troops:" she began, inching her way down until she hovered only a few inches away from the Decepticon's faceplates. His optics were wide and confused, watching her with surprise clear in his gaze. Who was this soldier? He must be new, for she'd never seen him prior. Did she even care? "find who the traitor is, for I am announcing that from here on that any insubordination towards me will be seen as immediate disloyalty, and therefore they shall be thrown to the brig. If they proceed to disobey me further on," she raised a servo, flashing her claws and leaning down further into the terrified expression of the soldier, "well, I hope you are intelligent enough to make your own conclusions."
Arachnid threw the mech away from her, letting him fall back onto his spinal support. Not waiting to see how he would react, she turned away and traveled the last of her way to an isolated wing of the base, first having to open the door this mech seemed to have been guarding. It was only accessible through a single hall, and thus was only allowed passing by the highest of ranks. The original dim turned to a suffocating darkness, with no light to show the way or glow to watch the ground upon. However, Arachnid didn't need the light. She didn't require that visual aid to help her on. She had her instincts and a subtle pulling in her spark- calling to her. The whispers by her audio receptor whisked through her very core, swirling her energon and floating amongst her vents.
Her vivid optics fluttered when she began to hear that familiar and comforting volley of inaudible words by her conscious again. She purred in the dark, her servos and peds becoming almost numb with the sweet promises and soft feeling of wholeness inside her. The essence was so light that when Arachnid tried to reach for it, it simply faded from existence as if it was never there, only to come back as a taunting trace. It was the most indescribable, but addictive experience Arachnid could say she had ever felt in her life cycle. She loved to come here, to gain a calmer posture, to check on progress, and to get away from Dirge. Yes Dirge. The lustful, overachieving, pretentious mech who both relied on, and suffered from fear.
Arachnid grinned in the solid black, shuttering her optics blissfully as she continued on. Her anger was nearly gone, but the lingering bitterness that would never fully go away stayed boiling in her tanks, waiting for a time to be released again. She only opened her optic slips when she felt the presence growing stronger and the feeling of pleasing serenity overcoming her. She passed on into the lights before her, stepping away from the grasp of the dark to encroach upon the door.
It was a bolted sheet of pure steel, iron, and other strong Earth and Cybertronian metals. Strong bars crossed before the intricate spirals of rods laced over the front of the entrance. Bolts thicker than Arachnid's digits dotted along each strip, lining the path of each before breaking off and circling along the frame. The pure force needed to break down this barrier would be massive, impossible for all but those with powerful weapons of destruction. It was the only thing separating her from her reward, breaking the course she wished to take as a frustrating boundary against her. The wholeness she felt near this place had her drawn back here nearly every kalon, her resolve slowly weakening as results were seen and tasks were accomplished.
She broke off her trance to walk over to the keypad, taking in the complicated array of grey keys and the screen asking for so many different identification processes. The complete series of passcodes and authorization terms was irritating to deal with when one came here as often as Arachnid did. However, she became anxious at the possibility that someone maybe able to figure her secrets and unlock this treasure if she were to minimize them. It wanted her designation, an optic scan, the main passcode, her logged rank I.D, the numeric version of the subject's name, and all in vocal command. Did Soundwave change the sequence again? Did that make her angry, or glad? It was an intelligent change, that was for sure- easier, but difficult all the same. "Designation: Arachnid, with I.D code of four-eight-seven-three. Rank: Elite commander, Apex class. Activate entry sequence six-three-four-two-eight-seven-six-six."
A brief pause silenced the air and Arachnid manually pressed the final key into the panel to allow her entry. The screen of the machine lit up and the door jumped. Calmly, Arachnid took a step back, allowing it to give a hiss before the spiraled rods lifted and the bars retracted. The large wheel turned before plugging itself flat into the final layer of door as it opened itself. After the clicks and ticks of the inner workings within the door finished, the entire structure simply swung outward in a cloud of thin mist.
Arachnid raised a servo to fan the substance away from her faceplates, finding that it always smelled harshly of baked iron and gaseous liquid. She carefully stepped over the bottom of the doorframe and made her way inside, making full well sure to close the entryway behind her. Once there, she took in her surroundings with an appreciative smile, gaining a buzzing sensation in her spark as she did so.
It was a simple space, roomy, but lackluster in personal appearance. Overall, it was supplied in more than anything possibly needed in a medbay from one wall or corner to the other. Shelves lined the perimeter, filled with gleaming metallic stripped from soldiers, confiscated from Decepticon ships after they've landed, or byway of their new transportation system. Entire crates of wires and whole pieces of armor sat grouped in the corner, a few sneaky strings of wire poking from atop the lid's lip. Toolcarts were scattered about, holding charred excuses for plating, a microscorcher here and there, clamps, welders, surgical instruments, and a pryer among those she saw. A desk is positioned off to the side, various and more delicate parts laid over the surface, with smaller tools befitting of their type beside them. Arachnid spied a pair of half-finished optics and a cerebral circuit, left next to a delicate CPU chip floating in its holochamber.
Mid-floor, an operations table stood proudly beneath the hulking figure atop of it. The berth held itself slightly inclined so to fully showcase the being's spread frame. Just by size, Arachnid knew it was a mech, clad in strikingly silver armor plates that sharply stripped his body against the black of his inner parts. His peds were adorned with zipper-like tracks, leading up to the higher of his body. Here, this showed split chunks of missing bits of internal and external wear. Longer, larger rounds of metal crested his shoulderbolts, with intricate slips following down to his digits, which appearing much like that of Arachnid's own. They were slim and claw-like, with hooked tips that were made for tearing and destroying.
By his neck, Arachnid was able to see the seams connecting the battered cables and the bulging scars along their throat and jugular. Along the mandible of the mighty cranial unit, there were more attempts of reconnection. Their helm sharply squared off at their neck, climbing up in an intimidating show of grace and power. However, the once fear-inducing faceplates were now rugged with ware and shredded down the middle. His optics remain shuttered closed, but the everlasting snarl that encased the ferocious features flashed the feral series of triangles making up his oral sheets. He was only an echo of his former self, stripped of armor in most places, with his terrifying faceplates now set in a meaningless threat like a caged organic. Those whom saw him now would laugh at the sight of him, powerless as he was against their teases. But with Arachnid there, she would make sure to severely punish those who poked fun at this mech.
The fembot glided across the length of the floor to stop at the side of the table, ghosting her digits over the shattered frame of the mech and tracing the missing pieces in his puzzled completeness. She lightly drug her servo to stall at his neck, allowing her to study the sewn cables, wires, and vital members of what made a Cybertronian's life cycle possible. These marks were a permanent reminder of what was lost, and who that loss had been from. It was a constant show of failures made to end the existence of this life. It was as if he bore the cursed slashes upon the desires of the one whom had did this to him, always ever to wear the branding of the enemy like a meager subordinate foolish enough to have challenged his master.
This realization made Arachnid's protoform crawl in hatred. They did this to a figure that was seen as immortal to many. They did this to someone who had brought down his species and kept it at his kneebolts, pledging their allegiance at his single glare. Those pathetic, despicable, contemptible cretins whom dare try to strike down his faction by dislodging the leader. It would never end. Not like this. One would take the place of another, again and again, until the last Decepticon stood with his spark still pumping with retribution. Arachnid balled her servo on his chassis, holding back the low growl in her throat.
"Mistress Arachnid, have you come to check in with the Lord's progress?" the new arrival had a voice that was even and shaded, like the personality of the secret organizations of Cybertron. A lowly human would refer to them as a 'gang' or 'mafia'. She turned around, her servo lingering on the mech's chassis as she watched the ruby-eyed Decepticon step into the light of the observational lamps above. He was a mech of average height, but made up for it with his bulk. The roundness in his overall form shadowed that of his leader's, his shoulderbolts wide and his midsection hefty. Each step he took shook the ground slightly, and every move he made seemed clumsy and uncoordinated. However, Arachnid was looking at one of the best medics on the face of Cybertron. The badge on the side of his helm stated as much.
Pausing to watch the Decepticon CMO trod around to the other side of the berth, Arachnid dipped her cranial unit towards him and finally removed her servo from the patient's cold figure. "My patience is waning Hex, when will you be finished with his new frame?" she demanded, noting the long pole on his spinal support as it shifted and clicked into place. In his alt form, this would be the nose of his M1A1 tank mode, powerful beyond the grace he lacked. His paint was a dull series of browns, greens, and tans, allowing him to blend in with the more flora half of the planet.
He held a rag in his servos, rubbing it between his palms so to clean off the grime. The boxy shape of his helm bent forwards so he could study the mech beneath him before he twisted his neck around to peer behind. Arachnid followed his lead, noticing that beyond the gloom and towards the far wall, there was an enormous array of violet panels attached to a rack. They were easily large enough to fit Grimlock, maybe bigger. The set climbed upwards until it almost skirted the ceiling, which was a good forty feet skyward. A round pedestal stood beside it, holding what looked like the shell of a helm, with a curved crest that pointed at the tips. Arachnid stared at the empty armor in interest, scanning every visible surface carefully so to see everything that could be seen
Diagrams and maps surrounded it, showing images of a great figure with monstrous size and an alarming show of weaponry. By the look of the building hill, and taking the measurements on the diagrams into consideration, the complete of the frame was only a mere fourth finished. And it still hled a lengthy way to go. "It's not as easy as I'd thought it'd be..." Hex trailed off and the two 'Cons returned optic contact, "but I'm getting there." he grabbed a tool and dipped his servo into the side of the disabled mech's chassis, opening it to the inside. Arachnid's spark twisted in seething loathing at looking over this impressive leader brought down so easily by their most obnoxious enemy. Down-right despicable.
The Decepticon fembot growled in frustration. When would they finally get their revenge? When would the rightful justice be carried out in the name of their lord? This was no longer about control for their home world, no, that was long gone. This, was a war for their future; their survival. Arachnid placed both servos on the berth, spreading her digits out and then digging in the tips. "Simply 'getting there' is not a satisfactory statement Hex." she said sternly, watching the CMO work, "I wish for results. Solid, sound, progressional results."
Hex paused with his arm elbowjoint-deep in his patient's chassis, the small sparks flying around from within stopped and Hex lifted a digit to push back the vizor across his faceplates. Removing his arm and leaning against the mech on the table, Hex looked to his leader calmly, "Results take time, especially for something like this. He's coming along nicely though, and I should be able to get him transferred into his new frame by the next few quartexes-"
"Impressive Hex. However, I would think it best if this revamp took place after we have retained what we need." she turned away and started for the unfinished frame, stopping a few feet away to study it at a closer distance. She had to admit, it was an admirable piece of craft for Hex to make considering the lack of acceptable supplies given to him. It would take time she knew, for him to fully complete the complete frame. However, time, now that the Autobot pet and her peer had escaped, was of the essence. "But when we retrieve the said supplies, I will need time to shape them, code them, fit them, connect them, and then attach them to the main frame before even processing revamping him."
"Will he survive without a few missing pieces?"
"Of course, but-"
"Then do it. We can complete him as time progresses. Add only what is completely necessary and we shall move on from there."
She felt anxious inside, like she was a sparkling being separated from her creator. There was no more pull in her spark, or fulfilling sense in her gridmap. Arachnid crossed her arms and rubbed the top of her chassis, swallowing the tightness in her throat. She searched for that same feeling that she'd come here so many times before for, finding it deep within her, lurking. It stalked her spark, circling around it and poking at her consciousness. What did it want? It brushed over her, sending a tingling wave up her spinal support. Arachnid gave a small shudder, her optics flickering with the pure delight she felt. A grin stretched across her faceplates and Arachnid sighed through her vents.
"Arachnid?"
Refusing to turn around, the fembot froze. She cleared her throat and dropped both arms, trying to regain her composure. Right now, she couldn't focus on the entity locked in this room, or her frothing lust for revenge. "Continue with your work Hex." she shuttered her optics a few times and finally returned to face the Decepticon CMO. He was leaning against the berth, holding his wrist while his elbowjoint rested on the edge. His servos were covered in energon. His energon. Arachnid swiftly walked across the room, heading for the door before she stopped and pivoted back to Hex. "Update me when possible." she unclipped something from her hipbolt and slapped it on the wall.
Pressing the button in the middle, Arachnid went on, "This is a caller. You are able to contact me or the Insecticons through this. However, I do not want this used abusively or under ridiculous circumstances, understand?" at her firm command, Hex rolled his optics and waved her off. "Yes, yes Mistress Arachnid, I understand. I am not Ramjet or Skywarp, mind you." he noted, beginning to return to his work. The fembot narrowed her eyes at the careless tone of the mech, but she ignored his condescending voice in favor that he was actually useful to her as of now.
~Mistress Arachnid, this is Onslaught.~
The Decepticon paused in leaving and she pressed her digit to her comlink communicator, finding this room was better than the public optic of her peers. ~I am here.~ she answered, silently watching Hex as he went about his business, ignoring her as he did so, ~Have you returned from your trek in search of supplies?~ she asked, smirking when Hex abruptly jumped with a yelp of pain. He waved around his smoking servo and hissed, holding the limb close.
~Yeah, well about that...~ Onslaught trailed off and Arachnid's optic ridges burrowed down before she aimed her optics at the floor. ~What Onslaught? I don't want to play games.~ she sent lowly, her attention heightening. The mech was known for dragging on what needed to be said, pressing Arachnid's patience more than once. A few times, she'd given up on him and instead questioned one of his fellow Combaticons, but he always ended up having the true answers. It was no wonder why she loathed sending them out for anything that involved a report later on.
~We located a few of the things on our list, but not just that. Something interesting's come up.~ Onslaught egged on, causing Arachnid to growl both physically and through the link. ~Onslaught...~ she warned, putting a dark promise in her words if this tease were to last much longer. The Combaticon seemed to realize she was not in the mood for his playfulness, and he went on briefly after her threatening comment. ~We were able to get the titanium you wanted, as well as the steel and iron. But that's not all. Reflector was able to spy some suspicious activity involving some particular enemies of ours.~
Arachnid released the air from her vents, reassured that nothing was actually wrong. Annoyed, but slightly excited at the same time, the fembot circled around and pushed open the door before her. She strode ahead, leaving behind that wonderful presence with each step she took. ~Mobilize your Combaticons and the Seekers,~ she commanded, ~I want a full unit dispatched in five clicks. Meet with them somewhere out of range and initiate scheme of action with Bekos.~ she turned the corner and started down the hall the same time as a mech soldier, but she paid him no attention. As she came closer however, he jumped aside as if she were covered going to shoot him with a cosmic rust gun, ~I want an update before and after, but do not come back here without Autobot energon on your servos, compute?~
~What of the ones who surrender?~ the leader of the Combaticons asked almost hesitantly. Arachnid allowed her scoff to pass through her link, the mocking smile spreading across her faceplates. Surrender? Only the lowest of low did that in the Autobot faction. She highly doubted that any would dare do that this far into the war. ~I don't want weaklings in my ranks Onslaught. No prisoners, no baggage. Just revenge.~
Arachnid cut the comlink and made her way towards the nose of the base. The main center of operations opened to her and she stepped through, her stance dangerous and high. She stepped up the stairs of the platform in the middle of the floor and whipped around once she was atop the crest. Her stilettoed peds planted firmly and she eyed each that sat around her in the room. Each Cybertronian at a computer was now turned towards her, all watching curiously. Lifting her mandible, Arachnid scanned those gathered once more. A sort of pride welled in her at seeing the numbers in this single space compared to how many were under the Decepticon faction. So many more than their worthless adversaries.
The will of the many, outdo the will of the few.
Arachnid couldn't hold it anymore. She couldn't contain the bubbling laugh within her. It started out small, just a giggling fluster. But soon, it built, overtaking her from within, flushing every corner of her and pushing outwards until she was drowning in it. Her own laughter. It spilled forth from her, wrenching her vents with each chortle and twisting her sides. Her shoulderbolts jumped over and over, her optics glazed over. The energon running through her coursed with fire and her very core tingled. It was all so delicious! The Autobots were falling, one by one. She could feel every deadspark as a victory in her life, as one less essence preventing the inevitable. "Let them rot!" she yelled, outstretching her arms and holding open her servos, "Let them all rust in Pit for all I care!" she laughed again, doubling over as she grabbed her midsection, "It's all- it's all coming together. All of it. Every single, minute, missing piece." as she began to calm, her venting evened out and she slowly rose, "There will be nothing left for Megatron to rule upon his return. Nothing but piles of slag!" she smiled until her lip plates hurt, caught up in her absolute jubilance.
"When he is underneath me, there will be nothing, nothing," she growled between her oral sheets, making sure to look each mech in the optic, "to stop me from destroying the scum of this planet and claiming it as our New Cybertron!" she threw a fist in the air, followed almost immediately by each and every 'Con in the room. They gave their own calls of approval along with her, filling the space with roars and cheers loud enough to deafen.
However, there was one. One other who refused to cheer with the others. One who hated, with all her being, the one whom stood proudly in triumph before her. Her arms were crossed and her shapely figure lounged by the back wall, staring with narrowed optics at her leader. Arachnid turned towards her, the smile still large in presence. But when she saw the one masked in shadow by the corner, that grin faded, turning to a hardened glare. They knew they hated the other. But they dealt with each other. Why? Respect. Rank.
"Let us rise." they fiercely stared on.
"And let them fall."
"Optimus, you need to see this."
The Prime turned from his work and found Red Alert standing by the front screens, his spinal support towards the room while he watched the scenes steadily changing before him. Optimus trod across the length of the room to stand beside his comrade, joining the mech to observe what was happening. Red Alert signaled one of the humans standing at the main controls up in the balconies and they nodded, entering a few commands into their keyboard before giving a thumbs up. "I...I don't know what to think truthfully."
Optimus narrowed his optic slips, staring harder into the images before him before they widened. It was a figure off in the distance, raging along the streets at an unnecessary speed, causing cars to part and pedestrians to run. It was an odd vehicle, bulky, definitely of military decent, dressed in a camo paint and heavy-duty tires. Asphalt billowed like a cloud behind them while black marks followed their path, smoke decorating the air. The turns they made were too smooth, too calculated to possibly be human. There was no way this new arrival was of Earthly decent.
When the security camera zoomed in on the figure, Optimus' servos balled and he quickly opened a general comlink. ~I want all active Autobot services of warrior ranking or higher to the front of the hangar in two clicks.~ Optimus himself turned away from the screen, meaning to leave, before Red Alert grabbed his arm and urged him back. "Wait, Optimus, there's something else." he waved to another set of humans, who in turn ran among their control panel. The two mechs looked to the screen, which changed after a mere nanoclick into a large map of the general areas. A single light, blinking green and heading in their direction, was traveling at admirable speed. Arcee.
"She's on her way here. She says she has Solas with her, but...with that outside...it's just, well...I don't know if, maybe...you know...they're not really-"
"Don't mind it. Stay here and keep an optic on things while the rest of our group and I shall be outside. Find Rethalia, and keep her safe. Can I trust you with that?" Optimus raised his optics ridges as the mech's faceplates fell. He looked horrified. But really, was there any better mech to trust his mate with than the Director of Security himself? Optimus trusted this mech highly, and he respected him equally as much. Even with his quirks and nervous attitude, Red Alert was one of the best, and Optimus knew his family was in good servos. "Find Samuel Witwicky's family and Sarah Lennox as well, keep them with you and my mate. I trust you Red Alert, don't worry."
Giving a small pat on Red's shoulderbolt, Optimus left him behind. He didn't know exactly who it was that was coming for them, but he knew it was a highly confusing and anxiety-inducing situation. This could be a trap, or it could simply be a rogue looking for a fight. Either way, Optimus was prepared for the worst. He would do anything to protect his fellow Autobots and family unit. He could feel his weapons warming in their chambers, the plasma humming with energy. The battle mask used so many times before slipped over his lower faceplates, hiding everything but the incredible blue of his optics.
He made his way to the main hangar, where the others were already there awaiting him. Of the sixteen on base, there were only five here, including Optimus himself, Bumblebee, Mirage, Smokescreen, and the fembot warrior known as Rainwing. The silver and royal-blue fembot stood closely with Smokescreen, fiddling with the blaster on his wrist. Firestar, Hound, Inferno, Prowl, Moonracer, Ratchet, and of course Red Alert, were all busy with their duties among the base to come. Rethalia was back in their personal quarters with Liora and Ratchet, while Moonracer, Firestar, and Inferno were all on patrol. Arcee and Solas Kaon were on their way here at least. That made seven. All against one.
Optimus brought out his own rifle, rubbing his thumb digit across the back of the handle as he traveled the room towards the door. Human officials were rushing about, curving around the Cybertronians' peds while they each flooded through the front entrance. Higher ranking men and women barked orders at the ones below, pointing and directing without relent. Optimus' own soldiers curved around behind him, cresting in a half-circle as they calmly walked out the entryway.
Human military vehicles rolled along with the Autobots as they strode over the grass and stopped along the small airplane runway off to their right. Optimus could hear his comrades shifting and preparing themselves behind him, their weapons powering and their bodies making every natural sound. Optimus tried to pay it all no attention, focusing on the incoming Cybertronian while the vegetation and trees swayed in the soft breezes of the Earth day. The curves and bumps in Optimus' rifle felt rough and coarse under his palm, but the overall shape seemingly fit him and him alone. He could feel the apprehension; the stiff tension in the open space. A small touch by his ped had him looking down, seeing Captain Robert Epps as he gave the taller peer a supportive nod.
When the man walked away, he lifted his hand and fingered a circle before him, signaling for his men to prepare themselves. The armed men and women collected themselves, focusing with only the trained attention they knew. Optimus took their lead and gestured for his Autobots to do the same as well. When the quick clicks and revs started up, Optimus' grasp on his own weapon tightened until it was nearly trembling. He felt his sparkmate sending him only the most reassuring thoughts and feelings, but he sent nothing in return, keeping his concentration on what lay ahead.
Over the head of the hills, finally crossing the bridge between the mainland and Theodore Roosevelt Island, was the approaching figure. This was surely a larger Cybertronian, but Optimus was certain he'd never seen this particular one before. He ground his oral sheets together, his chassis rumbling. The emblem on the incoming Cybertronian flashed in the light of the sun, the small shape located mid-grill. The dirt covering their frame caked to them and distorted the view of what lay underneath. The windows were speckled with black and brown, the windshield streaked with arches.
The sudden view of the one behind showed that the arrival wasn't alone, and that he was actually towing cargo. Despite the grime and the dirt, Optimus saw the color of the paint. He looked past the bows in the frame and ignored the scrapes taking away a lot of the natural shape. The red, yellow, and orange peeked through to the light; the ghostly echo of a sport vehicle overshadowed that of the beaten one now. In his files, this pathetic show of a Cybertronian matched with another. He knew that Cybertronian.
Taking a step forward, Optimus lifted his arm and placed the rifle back into place on his spinal support. "Autobots, stand down." he kept his optics ahead, slowly starting forward as the two made their way to close the path between them and the group of Autobots and humans standing guard. The humans looked between one another hesitantly, watching for an order from Epps, who was staring at Optimus confusedly. He'd never given them a direct order, so they were still able to shoot at will.
Optimus couldn't keep his optics off of the Cybertronians as they neared. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, yet he could. His CPU was sent into a swirling mix of chaotic wonder and his spark beat faster in anticipation. A hope built in his chassis at seeing them, and that soared when they came closer, revealing fully whom they truly were.
The other of the Autobots, sensing their leader's amazement, followed him one by one to join at his side. Together, they waited as the front Cybertronian halted only yards away, his form shaking slightly when he stopped. The silence was immediate upon those gathered, with even the air around them quitting movement. It was as if the world were holding its breath, waiting, anticipating. Birds stopped their calls of the day, the trees stood stationary, the wind ceased, and the sun bore down mercilessly. It seemed the only noises now came from the vents of the Autobot group.
Then the one in the back was released.
With a pop and a short rattling of the insides of the Cybertronian, the two separated. The still that had befallen them both seemed to disappear when the now free form behind the front began his transformation. Creaks and groans split the afternoon day, followed by pained moans and a snap that sounded horrifying to the audio receptor. Plates relocated far too slowly, while energon spurted from places they weren't supposed to. Sparks flew like golden confetti, sprinkling the ground in their glowing bits.
The parts of the Cybertronian's alt form appeared almost unwilling to cooperate as they popped into place with a sharp grinding. The mech -because Optimus was sure he was whom he figured- gave a lurch as his final attachments found their places. His helm rounded over his cranial unit, his arms finding their armor languidly. The 'wings' on his spinal support came into place, bent and crumpled as they poked from behind his helm.
Could it really be? Truly? Optimus feared he'd left this mech on Cybertron, to take care of the war in his absence. Coldness seeped into Optimus' spark as he witnessed this poor mech's state. It had to be some kind of joke, wasn't it? War had done this to him, made him into a soldier when Optimus knew full well he wasn't meant to be yet. But he'd allowed his instincts to take over; he'd allowed the Matrix to sway his decision and bias his opinion. Now look at him.
Once known to be proud and dignified in his Cybertronian stage, this warrior was now a shattered and broken shell of what he once was. His armoring appeared like it was pinched and hammered more times than vorns Optimus had lived. The young mech's paint was faded and chipping off, falling in flakes as he moved. The lively aura he used to produce was now fatigued to the point where Optimus felt it may be gone completely. Optics that were once a vivid cobalt-blue were now dull and listless. A lithe figure stepped up next to Optimus, her sniper aimed for the ground. "Good Primus, is that..."
The mech suddenly took a step forward, but then stopped and began to bend forward as if he were top-heavy. Rainwing rushed towards him and caught him before he could topple, grabbing his shoulderbolts before wrapping his arm around hers. Smokescreen joined her, helping to support the weakened and stumbling arrival with the fembot. They began towards the group, literally dragging their peer as they approached. Optimus followed them with his optics, noting the way the mech's helm bowed and he seemed unwilling to go on. The sight was sparkbreaking, filling the Prime with a consuming sadness at seeing the bombastic mech so downcast and beaten.
"Rodimus..." Optimus vented, too shocked to say anything else. It had been not so long ago when Optimus was on Cybertron, training this rooky and taking him under his influence while the mech evolved and grew into something amazing. They'd broken that. The Decepticons had finally reached the best of them and taken them down to their level. They'd finally grabbed ahold of the brightest, the one filled with light, and turned him into walking scrap.
Optimus' servos curled and he slowly shook his helm. Why this? Why were they put through this war and meant to see so many suffer? Was this the will of Primus, or some other celestial force, pulling strings and playing games? Rodimus began to cough, hacking up lobs of energon and fluid as he was carried to the base. Optimus jumped, his optic ridges coming down in concern.
When did Rodimus even land on this planet? How long ago had he reached the atmosphere? And why hadn't the 'Bots been informed beforehand? Why hadn't Optimus been reached? Rodimus knew full well to contact his comrades upon landing, but it appeared as though he was unable or had procrastinated in this task.
Prowl should have received a signal at least, whether that be an energon reading, simple satellite images showing the outline of a ship in orbit, or something other. Wheeljack and Greenlight had access to the general imagery systems, yet they too hadn't contacted him. Optimus raised his servo, catching Bumblebee's shoulderbolt. The young scout looked back on his leader, his optics worried and his posture anxious. Rodimus and Bumblebee had been friends on Cybertron, Optimus knew that. He also knew that the two mechs had lost so much of the same, both growing up as orphaned sparklings as they had, and were near brothers in each other's optics.
Optimus' digits tightened on Bee's shoulderbolt and the Prime focused him with a questioning glance. He removed his mask and allowed his expression to fully show, letting Bumblebee see the grim concern he held. The yellow Guardian was so much stronger than Optimus ever believed he would be, and there was so much pride he held in this single mech over the decacycles. He could only pray to Primus that little Bumblebee would never have to go through what Rodimus had. "Get Rodimus to Ratchet, I'm going to stay here and speak with the..." he let his words falter when Bee's baby-blue optics dodged over his shoulderbolt and widened. His mandible fell open and his optic ridges rose.
Confused, Optimus turned with the direction Bee was looking and he found the Decepticon mech still in his alt form. Why hadn't they transformed yet? Looking for answers, Optimus completely faced the 'Con and opened his lip plates to confirm their right to reform. However, before he could, their driver-side door opened widely. Curious, Optimus watched the figure exiting from inside. The window was tinted, so he was couldn't know whom it was that now stepped out. But the sparkbeat their hand latched onto the upper window frame of the door, he knew. His spark stopped and his frame stiffened.
That pale, scrapped hand pulled the person from the cabin before their feet hit the ground. They slouched behind the door and continued to grab at their support, allowing them to come forward into the sun. With nothing on their feet and rags clinging to their body, the human trudged fully to view on the other side of the door. They stood with their knees caving and their shoulders bent, the fabric hanging on them covered in dried blood and grime. The once gleaming tumble of golden hair they had was now tangled and dimmed, not so lively anymore, but instead drained of the color.
The ivory tinge of their skin was now dirty and sickly. Once icy-blue eyes that were full of such stubborn spirit now held up unclearly and drearily. The Decepticon made no move to pull away from her touch, it didn't make a noise of disgust, and it didn't try holding her hostage. Instead, it merely left its door open as a sort of support for her weak body. The girl leaned heavily on the offered stability, letting herself relent to this motion easily. Optimus was shocked to say the least, unable to make himself believe. Here, right before him, was Fera Rosalie Lennox, alive and whole.
Fera looked up at him after she'd closed her eyes to take in the sun's rays, locking him in her relieved expression before she gave a strained smile. This knocked Optimus from his stupor and he came forward, getting down on one kneebolt to assist her. Fera climbed onto his palm, slowly pulling herself close. He noted that she favored her left leg, and she paid extra attention to it whenever she made even the smallest movement. Studying it closer, Optimus found it swollen and colored a strange array of blues and browns. It was oddly twisted and when Fera made a wrong shift, he heard her give a long, low cry of pain.
The one who had carried both she and Rodimus to the Autobot headquarters began their own transformation, standing tall before them in only a few short nanoclicks. It was now apparent that this Decepticon was in fact mech, and that he was a larger being than Optimus had originally planned. They were around the same height, but at a different bulk. The new mech's armoring was custom-made, meaning he'd come from a wealthier class on Cybertron- most likely Mezzo or Alpha. He had a squared mandible and broad shoulderbolts, his helm boxy in shape, while his thick arms appeared covered with higher tech weaponry. There was a gear shredder on his left arm, a nucleon charge rifle ready for use on his hipbolt, and a canon blaster on his shoulderbolt. A high-class mech indeed.
The Decepticon lifted his arm and pumped it down so to disable his shredder. Walking towards Optimus, he continued to remove it and clip it on his free hipbolt. He proceeded to freeze his rifle as well, aiming the nose skyward as it rested in deactivation. "I do not wish for confrontation." he stated, holding a steady optic contact with the Prime. Optimus dipped his cranial unit respectively, silently acknowledging the mech's will. "Neither do I," he agreed, bringing Fera closer to him so she could rest against his chassis, "do we have peace?" he felt Fera leaning back on him as the 'Con nodded. Optimus grinned warmly and looked down at the human in his servo. She was actually here, in his grip, no longer in that of the Decepticons'. Broken and malnourished, but she was here.
Finally. She was safe.
"Fera, are you alright?" at his question, Fera twisted around and rested her head back on his plating, another smile stretching across her face. It looked like there was tears collecting in her eyes, but her expression was so happy and relieved. All the pent up blame, all the wandering doubts and meaningless self-pity, simply melted away. Rethalia was feeding her optics through his, enjoying every nanoclick of this moment with him. She sent him waves of joy and happiness, relief at the teen's return sweeping away their bitter resent. "Other than the fact that my ankle hurts like hell and I feel like I'm going to puke, yeah, I'm good." Optimus felt Bumblebee stepping up behind him and glancing over his shoulderbolt. Fera's tired eyes lit up and she sat straighter, her smile broadening. "Bee!" she exclaimed. Bumblebee gave a few joyful clicks and reached over to press a digit to her cheek, gently brushing it with a practiced carefulness he'd acquired over the decacycles with Samuel. Fera grabbed the limb and hugged it, the tears finally spilling over her face. "I'm...I'm so happy to see...you guys." she sniffed and squeezed her eyes shut. "I thought I'd never see you all again...I was so scared I was going to die..."
Optimus' faceplates fell and he felt his spark squeezing at the process of this human possibly dying. He didn't understand why it hurt so much to picture the possibility when he'd figured it so many times before, but there was just something about actually holding the female here that changed his views. She seemed to have some form of influence on them all, drawing out the best -and worst- in each of them. Solas Kaon was one of these beings. Optimus promised to never grow close to any human on this planet- to never create a relationship that may end far too quickly. However, as it went with Samuel, Robert Epps, and now Fera Lennox, his rule had shattered long ago.
Fera released Bee's digit and wiped her eyes. "Did you guys miss me?" she chuckled and finished drying her face. Optimus lifted a digit and tapped Fera's back softly, his lip plates pulling up at the corners at her show of humor. "Of course we did Fera, is there any way we couldn't have? However, I feel Solas Kaon may have felt a greater impact at your abduction than us." he answered, getting a surprised raise of Fera's eyes, "Sol?" she inquired quizzically, her hand slipping down to grab the Stone of Primus at her neck. So they hadn't retrieved it, Optimus silently thought in better comfort as he nodded at her. We have both artifact and key, meaning there is hope to this war after all.
Fera looked down, confusion in her expression. Was she doubting Sol's capability for sympathy and loyalty? Maybe now she could see the Autobots were willing to do far more for her than simply keep her safe. She abruptly turned away from him for a quick astrosecond to gesture towards the newer of the arrivals, apparently ready to move on. This was the one whom had brought back the future of his race to the Autobot cause. Though he may not know so, this mech could have very well of saved his species. "This is Titanios." Fera explained, scooting forward until she was dangling her legs off the tips of Optimus' digits, "He's the one that saved Rodimus and me. I'm pretty sure that without him, we wouldn't have gotten here." her voice was so warm, so full of gratitude and thankfulness that it caused Optimus' spark to swell. A Decepticon warrior, saving the life of a human. What a miracle.
Titanios offered a servo, which Optimus took kindly. But before he could pull away, the mech held onto Optimus' digits and stared deeply into his optics. "Optimus Prime, I am honored to stand before you, unworthy as I am. As a Decepticon warrior, I've done things that I admit shall put me to shame." at this, his helm dropped and he let his optics aim down. What had this mech done? What horrible, cruel things had this being carried out in the name of duty? Optimus' faceplates became emotionless and cold, far different from the welcome he displayed before. He understood the regrets, the pain. He knew the costs of war and what spark-wrenching actions he'd had to perform. And as Rethalia added her own feelings to his, it was clear that she knew as well. "As have I." he agreed softly, causing Titanios to raise his features again.
"But I hope it in your spark to grant me refuge in your ranks, for I no longer wish to wear this badge of lies...even if my brother is among them." he reached up and grabbed at the emblem on his chassis, digging in his digits with a screeching complain of his armor. Optimus merely watched him quietly, unable to intervene do to his full grip. Titanios faceplates contorted into a grimace as he did this, but he continued on without stopping. With a quick and final pop, Titanios vented a sigh of relief. There were silver scratches across the small area now, the only continued remnant of his past. Titanios then returned his servo to Optimus, slipping something small inside his palm. "Either way, whether you accept me or not, I am renouncing myself as a Decepticon warrior."
At first shocked, Optimus was speechless. He'd never been given the insignia of the enemy before, and had never been granted the factional decision of another. It was apart of a being's rights to have the will to choose for themselves. There was no right in another making the choices for them. As so, the Prime closed his digits around the emblem, but did not crush it. He fixed Titanios with a hard stare and raised himself higher. The matters of another's freedoms, never became that of the other's. Never would one choose for the other, unless granted so unfairly.
And harmless as it seemed for Optimus to make this life-altering choice, he was viewing it as a break against his personal code; his morals. He'd be taking away the freedoms given to Titanios in doing this. "I will not refuse you the sanctuary you seek within my ranks. Seeing as to what you've done, bringing Fera Lennox back to us. It is in my beliefs that I can trust you. However," he removed his servo from Titanios', "it is not in the power of a Prime to lead you into your military paths. I will not make this decision for you, nor will I force it upon you. That is your right, and yours alone."
The mech opened his lip plates and then closed them again. The emotions danced across his faceplates, so full of uncertainty and confliction. Optimus knew he wanted to say something, for the words were right on his expression. But he simply couldn't say them. Taking mercy on the young warrior, Optimus stepped aside and jerked his helm towards the base behind them. "You do not have to make this choice now Titanios, we may have this discussion at another time if you'd like." the two stood there for another nanoclick before Titanios shook his cranial unit. "No, no, I want to say so now." he cleared his throat and waved his arms before straightening tall and raising his mandible.
"Optimus Prime, I, Titanios, pledge my allegiance to the Autobot cause on the grounds of terminating my existing bind with the Decepticons." swiftly, he nodded in confirmation. Optimus turned back to the mech, mildly surprised at his sudden answer. Fera wriggled in his palm, fighting for balance. Cupping her so not to drop her, Optimus began to make his own announcement in accepting the new warrior.
But then he saw the one mech he didn't want to at that moment: Solas Kaon. Whom, he might add, was already transformed and stalking across the way. Arcee trailed behind, hurrying to keep up with him. He wasn't paying her any attention, instead maliciously glaring ahead before breaking into an all-out sprint. His mighty roar pierced the air, while his steps vibrated the ground slightly.
"You've a death wish, you good for nothing, murderous Decepticon!"
What could Arachnid be planning?
Who knows, she's a loon.
Don't worry, plenty of more to come :)
Thank you everyone for sticking with me and giving your reviews-
It makes my day to read each one :D
*Chapter inspiration: I Will Not Bow= Breaking Benjamin*