A.N./This is an idea that's been floating in my brain for a couple of years now, and I finally decided to slap it down into writing.

Managed to finish up this chapter during the couple of months I lacked internet.

The world Backblast is from(he is neither of the canon ones by that name) is a mixture of the Prime series and War for/Fall of Cybertron games. Why? Because those are my favorite parts of the franchise and I love them immensely. I know some hardcore fans didn't like 'em, but I did. So, yeah. Enjoy!

Chapter 1:The Last Decepticon

High above the surface of the planet sat a rather odd sight; an aircraft in high orbit. It was sleek, possessing sharp edges, two engines, a polarized golden cockpit canopy, and was painted a mixture of two different grays with black iconography. It was clearly a fighter jet, but how it made it all the way to space would be a mystery to anyone who laid eyes upon it.

However, it was no normal fighter jet.

"Humans…" He murmured. "Just where am I?"

It was a Cybertonian. Specifically a Decepticon lieutenant named Backblast.

How exactly he came to be over this strange world with its shattered moon was a mystery to him, but he knew from the signals he picked up that there were humans down there and humans meant resources. He thought about what he would even do down there if he decided to go. He would of course need energon, but naturally occurring energon was rare. Thankfully, he snagged a copy of the formula for synthetic energon when it was finished. So he could go down there to make some and then… what? Leave? He didn't really have anywhere to go seeing as he was essentially the last of his species. Which, he guessed, technically means the Decepticons won the war.

Whoopie.

He sighed. Even now, with his people gone and their civilization little more than rusting ruins, he couldn't decide if it was worth it. Was freedom from slavery truly worth what Megatron's rebellion had wrought? He watched Megatron turn from a disillusioned revolutionary into a tyrannical despot and fought for him in his war for millions of years. He watched as every battle that passed, the lines between who was right and who was wrong blurred.

He glanced at all of the information running across his vision from the intercepted signals. The humans here were still primitive compared to Cybertonian technology, but they still were far more advanced in the field of robotics than their Earth counterparts.

Hmmm. Perhaps…

A new purpose in hand, his engines roared at full power and sent him hurtling towards the planet's surface. Specifically, the northernmost continent.

"Sir! You better come and look at this!" Commander James Ironwood frowned at the operator who called out to him and walked over.

"What is it, Ensign?"

"Something just entered radar high above Atlas city and is heading straight for it!"

His frown deepened and he leaned over the operator's shoulder to get a look at the readouts. "What is it? An asteroid?"

The Ensign shook his head. "No idea, but whatever it is it's moving damn fast-BELAY THAT! It just changed its trajectory and is heading straight for us!"

He blinked in surprise before collecting himself. "Bring the base to full alert and open a line to the bastard who thinks he can just violate our airspace!"

The operator nodded, pressed a few buttons, and handed him his headset. "Attention unidentified craft! You have illegally entered Atlesean airspace. You will identify yourself and land at the provided coordinates or be fired upon!"

There was a brief period of silence before a slightly synthesized voice cut through. "This is callsign Backblast coordinates received. Do not open fire!"

He narrowed his eyes. Backblast? What the hell? He shook it off and spoke again. "Do not deviate from your current path! You will be detained and questioned, your treatment will be in line with conditions outlined in the Vytal Accords. I repeat. Do not deviate from your current path!"

He handed the headset back to the operator and walked towards the door. "Keep me apprised of the situation! I'm going down there."

"Yes sir!" He stormed out of the room, intent on personally dragging the pilot to a cell and ripping out every bit of information he had. Unfortunately, whatever he had been expecting, the sleek almost futuristic looking aircraft was most certainly not it. For one it wasn't anything like any aircraft he's ever seen before. It didn't take off or land vertically, it instead had to come to a rolling stop on a strip of road.

Very bizarre.

If that wasn't enough, it didn't follow any design philosophy he was familiar with, and it's colors and iconography were completely foreign to him. He held out a hand and grabbed the megaphone a soldier was holding out for him, then brought it up to his mouth and cleared his throat. "Power down and exit the vehicle!"

There was silence. "Do not open fire."

He frowned. "Power DOWN and exit the VEHICLE!"

"Do not open fire." That's when his world changed forever. While still broadcasting its message, the aircraft transformed. Panels opened while the whole frame shifted and folded in on itself. He stared in slack jaw disbelief as what he assumed to be a simple if advanced aircraft turned into a colossal humanoid robot. It's body retained much of the previous sleek aesthetics with the cockpit forming the center of the chest. The back sported the folded tail fins sticking out vertically, what's left of the engines became the lower legs, the air intakes became the forearms, and the head looked much like a pilot helmet. Breathing mask, tube, and all.

It was honestly breathtaking to look at.

"I believe the phrase is: take me to your leader."

He just continued to stare in disbelief.

Several of his soldiers dropped their rifles in shock, and one even let out a rather loud "holy shit".

"Hmmm. Perhaps I should have done this differently?"

"Commander, while I appreciate your dedication to security, this is getting to be a bit too much." General Alex Steele chided after the third security checkpoint in the building, much to his own chagrin. Where before the base had been rather quiet and empty, it was now bustling with activity. Patrols were a constant sight, mechanics ran to and fro between garages in an effort to make sure every vehicle was in top shape, and base engineers worked round the clock to build up and fortify the base to the best of their ability.

But one hangar on base stood out against all other buildings. It was surrounded by troops, checkpoints, and fortifications. The very same things his superior just complained to him about.

"General, sir. When you see what's on the other side of this door you will understand." He assured.

General Steele still looked skeptical, but he was certain of his words. So when the door opened and they came face to face with Backblast, he felt a small sense of satisfaction at the look of complete surprise on the general's face. "What is that?"

The helmet-esque head of the alien seemed to fold and retract, leaving a face that would've looked remarkably human if it wasn't completely mechanical."I am Backblast. A cybernetic organism hailing from the planet of Cybertron. My people have been decimated from eons of civil war, and I've come here to ask yours for help."

General Steele stared silently into Backblast's glowing red optics for a minute before turning to him. "I want this base removed from the network. Isolate it completely. Give it its own separate server for information, completely inaccessible to the outside world. Any information from here is to be transferred physically and classified at the highest level. Triple the security and lockdown this base as tightly as you can."

"Already being done." He said with pride.

Steele's eyes narrowed. "You overstep your bounds, but rightly so Colonel."

He blinked. Did he just get promoted? "Sir?"

Steele ignored him and turned back to their Extraterrestrial guest. "What do you offer in exchange?"

A smile graced Backblast's mechanical lips, and a red hologram sprung to life from his optics; displaying diagrams, formulas, technical readouts, designs, and all manner of scientific wonders. "Everything you need."

The General just smiled. "And what do you want in return?"

Backblast looked… solemn? "Your help in rebuilding my species."

He'd not been enjoying his time with the Atlesians per say, but he didn't hate the past few months. It's been eye opening to work alongside humans for a change. Especially Colonel Ironwood.

The man seemed quite competent, if a bit overeager at times.

"Sorry for the long wait Blast-" He twitched slightly at the shortened use of his name. "-but we've finally managed to get through all the security checks to get one of our brightest minds here."

Ironwood gestured behind him. "Let me introduce Doctor Peitro Polendina."

Behind the good Colonel came a slightly rotund dark skinned human in a wheelchair with the beginnings of age showing on his face. The Doctor held a look of complete wonder across his face as his eyes raked up and down his body. "Salutations, Doctor."

"A-ah yes, hello." Polendina turned back to Ironwood. "What a fascinating machine! Is his builder somewhere nearby? I must meet them!"

He frowned and the Colonel winced. "By my spark, I am no simple machine!" He thundered. "I am a cybernetic organism hailing from the planet Cybertron, and not some machine slapped together by an engineer!"

Ironwood held his face in the palm of his hand, while the good Doctor had recoiled in his seat. Finally James had decided to say something. "Peitro, did you read the report we sent you?"

The older man smiled sheepishly. "Admittedly, I only read the technical sections and skimmed the rest."

Ironwood just sighed while he raised a brow.

"Sorry for my words, Blast was it?"

"Backblast."

"Right, sorry again Backblast. Let me try again. Greetings Backblast! My name is Peitro Polendina, Atlas's most prominent robotics expert. It's a pleasure to meet you." The chair bound man stuck out his hand. He blinked, slightly bemused by the whole ordeal, but gently reached out and took the SIGNIFICANTLY smaller hand nonetheless.

The Doctor smiled, and they released each other's hand before his eyes widened. "Ah right, before we begin; you said something about your spark? What is that?"

"My spark?" He hummed slightly in thought. "I suppose the closest equivalent in human terms would be my soul."

Everyone in the hangar stopped and looked at him with surprise. "You have a soul?"

His chest folded and opened up, revealing the bright glow of his spark to the world. "This is my Spark, or soul in your terms."

Polendina stared in complete wonder at his Spark up until he closed its chamber.

"Amazing!" The doctor shouted. "Does this mean you have an Aura?"

"An Aura?" His face twisted in confusion at the unfamiliar use of the term.

The Doctor, however, continued unabated. "Yes! The unlocked manifestation of the soul! It guides and protects us. Do you have one?"

The rotund man's excited eyes left him speechless for a moment. Blinking away his confusion, he turned his gaze back to Ironwood. "I believe that there may be something that isn't quite translating correctly, but it may simply be an issue in the differences between our cultures."

Ironwood raised a brow, but nonetheless nodded. "You know how we possess a soul?"

He nodded.

"Long ago, we as a species managed to tap into the power of our souls and use it to fight against our natural predators, the Grimm. We call it Aura."

"I think I understand the issue." He paused to think on just how he was to word his thoughts, and shifted his gaze back to the chair bound man. "A Soul is the closest human equivalent to a Cybertonian's Spark, but they're not exactly the same. My people never discovered anything like what you're explaining, but it could be possible for me to possess one."

Polendina deflated slightly before he suddenly shot up in excitement. "What if I tried to unlock it for you?"

Immediately his optics narrowed in suspicion. His many hundreds of thousands of years in service as a Decepticon lieutenant has taught him to be deeply wary of any offers that seem purely beneficial to him. However, after some thought he decided the seemingly crippled man would be of little danger to him and reached out his hand.

Doctor Polendina looked ecstatic and grasped one of his fingers before giving off a slight green glow. Innumerable lines of data scrolled across his vision in an attempt to decipher the phenomena before he dismissed them to focus on his Spark. He could certainly feel something trying to make a connection and then succeeding with some effort. Unfortunately, that's when something in his Spark shifted and altered in a way that he had never heard of before or could even begin to describe.

He whipped his hand away from the crippled man's touch as if burned, startling him greatly, and stumbled into standing. He stared down in wide-optic wonder at the shimmering purple field surrounding him, looking all over his body and sure enough; it covered him completely. "What did you do to me?"

"I-I'm not sure, but you seem to have unlocked your Aura."

"So this is Aura?" He muttered as it began to fade. He glanced up to see Ironwood's smiling face and folded closed his helmet parts in a vain attempt to hide the awe he felt.

But still…

He retracted the visor on his fighter pilot-esque helm and projected a schematic. It's red holographic form rotating slightly. The schematic was that of an aircraft, it looked far less impressive than he did in his aircraft form. But it was still beyond what anyone possessed on Remnant. It was large, with two jet engines under its tail, swept wings, and had the capacity to carry a large amount of ordinance.

To the humans of Earth it was an icon of the Cold War. To him, it was a primitive relic.

It was the F-4 Phantom.

And it was just the aircraft Remnant needed.

Ironwood immediately knew what he was looking at and examined it with great interest. While it did take Doctor Polendina a few moments to fully grasp what he was looking at, when he did realize he immediately began to visually dissect it.

"What exactly is it?" Ironwood finally asked.

"It's a supersonic fighter jet designed to carry large amount of bombs as well as air to air missiles. If produced in numbers and used right, it should be able to wipe out Grimm swarms with ease."

"I don't see any variable angle thrusters." He turned back to the doctor. "How is it supposed to take off?"

He stared, confused. "With a runway, or a carrier." The two looked perplexed, Ironwood far less than the Doctor. Did horizontal take off not exist to these people?

"But that's so primitive." He stared, completely flabbergasted, at the rounder man. They're hung up on that?!

"It's also cheaper, easier to make, easier to maintain, allows for a more sturdy airframe, and weapon hardpoints."

"But that's…" Polendina trailed off.

He sighed. Is this another cultural thing? "I'm starting to see why your people are having trouble dealing with the Grimm."

Ironwood frowned but kept silent, Polendina on the other hand… "What do you mean? Atlas has the most advanced technology in the world!"

The Doctor was more inquisitive than indignant, but he still seemed upset. "Advanced technology is useless if it's less effective than simpler and cheaper means. This is a basic fundamental of military development, and if your people don't abide by it; then it's no wonder how the Grimm are such a challenge to you."

Ironwood grit his teeth, but still said nothing as he looked over the schematics. Only staring him straight in the optics. He stared right back, unflinching in the certainty of his words.

"Are you certain?"

"Deadly." He replied with complete honesty.

Ironwood nodded. "I'll bring the design to my superiors."

He nodded back. "As soon as I'm able to interface with your technology I will provide detailed schematics for you to present."

The Colonel ran a hand down his face and sighed. "A couple of months ago I'd have laughed in the face of anyone who claimed to have made anything more advanced than Atlas has. Now? I've met an alien robot who makes our weapons look like sharp sticks. The world just feels so… small."

He nodded. "There was a time, long ago, that I went through something similar…"

He got lost in memories for a moment and missed Colonel Ironwood departing, only to be brought back by Doctor Polendina clearing his throat. He blinked away the daze he had been in and looked down to the rotund man. "I need to see your communication connection device before I can draw up plans to build an interface."

"Actually, Doctor. If I can get a hold of some of your computers and terminals I may be able to rig something up for that purpose."

"Oh splendid!"

"As you can see, General, Councilmen. With this design we'll not only be more effective at combating Grimm and at reducing the cost of lives doing so, but it will be easier to produce, cheaper, and more reliable too." He finished his presentation of Backblast's design with a smile and nervous adjustment of his collar. General Steele gave both him and the schematic an approving look. However the Councilmen looked far less impressed.

"Looks like a waste of taxpayer Lien."

"It is certainly a unique design."

"What a bunch of trite!" Councilman Greer was particularly upset. Which was understandable considering his extensive investment in the Advanced Bullhead Project, which sought to replace the standard issue bullhead with a significantly slimmer and more advanced model. "There's nothing wrong with the tried and true bullhead design! This new craft is nothing more than a useless gimmick!"

He frowned and looked to his superior who only stared stoically at him. His prosthetics itched when a cold sweat broke out over his skin, but his trademarked frown remained in place. "If I may, Councilman?"

Greer scowled at him but nodded.

"I propose a competition between our respective designs." Everyone in the room raised an eyebrow at his words.

"Oh?"

"A series of trials, and whichever design does it better wins the right to be produced." He could see the gears turning in Greer's head as the Councilman thought over the idea. "Of course, since the ABP is clearly superior, there's no need to fear losing."

The rest of the council started murmuring in agreement to the idea, and he smiled slightly when Greer scowled at him. "Fine."

Another councilor clapped once to get everyone's attention. "Then this meeting is adjourned."

He strode beside General Steele down one of the many hallways of the Atlas Capitol building. It's majestic tapestry and masterfully carved pillars

"I hate politicians." He groused.

"You handled yourself well, all things considered."

He raised a brow. "You call that handling it well?"

General Steele laughed lightly. The sound is coarse and rough from the man's aged vocal cords. "About as well as any self-respecting military man is able."

Letting out a sigh to release tension, he turned slightly towards his superior. "No wonder we lost the war. We probably had idiots like Greer in charge."

The older man gave him a calculating look, as if assessing his words on a far more deep level than their surface meaning. "Would you like the military to be in charge instead?"

The words came so casually that he didn't even register them at first. Once they finally processed, he froze and gave his General a wide eyed look of stunned bewilderment.

"No!" He denied vehemently. Perhaps if Backblast had never arrived he might have come to think that way if it was for the safety of Atlas, but now? Now he knows just how small Atlas truly is, and that he can no longer only look at Atlas. Atlas will always be what he holds dear, but if there are aliens like Backblast out in the cosmos; then what else could be out there? Remnant, now more than ever, needs to stand united in peace, something a military coup would make impossible; conflict between the kingdoms will only endanger them all. "What are you implying, sir?"

"I'm implying nothing, colonel." The aging general replied sharply, causing him to instinctively straighten. "I'm getting old, and I'll need a replacement soon. Your response showed me that you wouldn't abuse the position if you held it."

He showed little reaction other than a slight scrunching of his brows, a testament to the discipline hammered into him back in basic. "You were testing me sir?"

Steele nodded slightly. "I've been testing all seven of Atlas's colonels for a few months now."

"It would be unprecedented, sir. I've only held the rank of colonel for a couple of months!"

"It won't be for another few years, but you're a good man, Ironwood. If you'd take it, I'd like to have you be my successor. I know you'd do Atlas proud."

He stood speechless, he had no idea the general thought so highly of him. "I'd be honored, sir."

Steele nodded again. "Good. Return to your base and prepare your design for the trails. I expect great things from you, and your… science team."

They had finally reached the landing platforms, it had taken a few minutes due to the enormity of the building. Turning sharply on his heel, he came to attention and saluted. "I won't fail you sir!"

Steele paused slightly and returned the salute. "I know you won't son."

"This is the prototype?" He asked, and the engineer beside him nodded in giddy excitement.

"Yes sir. The first of three!" He hummed slightly and circled the craft, observing its unique characteristics. "The design behind the ASF-1 was simple, but deceptively revolutionary. None of the team was too thrilled to be assigned to the project, but that changed when we actually started to build it. In fact. We had to come up with completely new methods of metallurgy, airframe construction, engine assembly, and any number of other parts this marvel of avionics design has challenged us with."

He gently ran his non gloved hand over the white painted wing. Its sleek body and slight curves accentuated its few edges, while its white and black paint gave an elegant Atlesian look to the design of alien origins. "Its shape is a little different from the schematics."

"Ah." The engineer briefly lost his composure at his statement, but quickly regained it. "We had to slightly alter its design to compensate for what technology we have available. Its nose, for instance, had to be slightly increased in width to fit the radar in. Other such similar modifications throughout the design have only increased its weight slightly and results in a little extra drag, but it's all negligible. At most it'll result in a slight reduction in speed, but current projections still place it far beyond anything a Grimm could hope to achieve."

"It's weapons?" He asked.

"The bombs were a rather simple affair, but we encountered some issues with the guidance systems on the missiles. However, the twenty five millimeter Vulcan in the nose works perfectly."

"Will the missiles be done in time for the demonstration?"

The engineer adjusted his glasses and nodded. "Easily."

"Good. I'll send you three pilots to test the craft in order to work out any kinks by the end of the week."

"Thank you, Colonel." He nodded and left the hangar, got into a truck, and took a ten minute drive to the other side of the now massive military fortress base he commanded. Many classified projects are now being developed here with the assistance of Backblast's technology, allowing security here to become some of, if not the best in the kingdom. A dozen checkpoints, over a thousand soldiers, dozens of armored cars, and the most advanced surveillance system on the planet all ensured the greatest secret of Atlas remained a secret.

Said secret was talking sparingly with the rather animated Peitro Polendina. He glanced around the hangar at the myriad of soldiers, scientists, and genuinely alien looking technology. Angular and sinister looking terminals lay spread around the scaffolding surrounding Backblast who sat kneeling in order to be at eye level with any who were on the platform before him. Purple screens ran countless streams of red colored data, leaving any who glimpsed at the titanic amount of data would quickly feel overwhelmed. He quickly shifted his gaze away and back to the resident alien, who caught his gaze and gave a single respectful nod. Not one to be rude he nodded back and cleared his throat to catch Peitro's attention.

"Ah, Colonel! I was just talking with Backblast here about my personal project and how we may improve our kingdom's robotics." He smiled at the man's energy, genuinely enjoying his energy.

"It's good that you keep our home in mind, but what's this personal project?"

At his question, the doctor became somewhat bashful. "I'm uhh-I'm sterile, but I've always wanted a daughter."

Ah, that's tragic. He is also unable to sire children, but that's due to his vast cybernetics instead of any genetic issue. "I see. So long as it doesn't compromise kingdom security, you're free to work on it in your spare time."

Peitro brightened significantly. "Thank you James!"

He smiled. "Think nothing of it. You've been working hard to improve Atlas, and I understand how you feel… Regardless, hard work deserves a reward."

"Very benevolent of you." The colossal mechanical alien mused. "How are the designs I've given you coming along?"

"The first prototype has been finished and the other two will be done by the end of the month."

Backblast hummed slightly. "Impressive, the last time I witnessed organics develop a prototype, it took several solar cycles. You've managed to do it in a manner of months."

He huffed slightly, puffing his chest out in pride. "Atlesean scientists are the best in the world, and your schematics kickstarted development immensely."

"Good good." Backblast's red optics adjusted slightly. "What do you think our chances are of winning in the competition?"

He blinked in slight surprise, but answered nonetheless. "Very high."

Backblast smiled. "Good."

As soon as Backblast finished the word a red hologram appeared, projected from his sinister red optics. It was clearly a ship, but it was unlike any ship he's ever seen. Its top was flat and wide, resembling that of a strip of road, and it had an odd looking tower off to one side. Its main pulse cannons seem to be missing and instead there seemed to be numerous missile batteries and Vulcan turrets; while its boxy midsection was longer, and had some odd seams. "I hope you don't mind, but I looked over your airship schematics to produce this design for you."

"What is it?"

"It's a carrier. I designed it around your airship technology so you can deploy the fighter anywhere on the planet these ships can reach. While I'm no scientist or engineer, this design should be sufficient for your purposes." His mind raced, yes. He could see the genius behind this design. While Atlesean airships can already deploy bullheads from internal hangars, bullheads lack the range and speed of the new fighter. This ship is akin to a flying air base instead of the direct combat ships currently in service. This… carrier, would allow them to project air power far beyond their current reach and strike Grimm before they even reach the continent!

While his mind raced, Backblast looked somewhat thoughtful. "By the way, did you ever name that fighter design?"

He snapped out of the daze of possibilities he had been in. "The fighter? We named it the ASF-1 Shrike."

The towering alien nodded, satisfied. "That is a good name, it sounds powerful."

"It had actually been a toss up between that and "Bolt". We had decided that Shrike simply sounded better."

"Ha! That's fine. Names need not have a deep meaning to be good." Backblast paused. "By the way, I've been wondering since we met, but why are you half machine?"

He cringed at the blunt question, along with everyone else in the hangar. "A souvenir of war."

This time it was Backblast who cringed. "Ah, my apologies. As a veteran myself I should've realized."

"No, it's fine. The war has been over for a long time now. How about you? I've never really asked, but how long did you serve?"

Backblast rubbed his chin in thought. "I've been part of the Decepticon army since the start, soooo… around several dozen million years."

He choked on air, and heard several loud gasps around the room along with numerous pieces of equipment clattering to the floor. "S-several million years?!"

"Yes, our civilization was vast and the war consumed every facet of it. Even extending far beyond our own borders during the latter half."

"Your war lasted longer than our species has existed?" He asked in dazed shock.

"I suppose it did now that I think about it."

"How?"

"Well, it has to do with our advanced technology, and immeasurably longer lifespans. The average Cybertonian can live over a billion years if not killed. So, if they aren't killed, there's sufficient energon, and someone tends to them; it's very possible that they'll make a full recovery. Which means our troops can fight for far longer than any known organic species."

He gaped, even with the explanation, the length was incomprehensible.

"There were also long periods of a lull in the fighting after the fall of Cybertron."

Oh. Well that helps, but still. "Millions of years… that must've been harrowing."

"Ha." Backblast laughed, but his optics were wide and held an empty look. "It certainly was a long and drawn out death for my species, but hey! At least I won the war."

Backblast chuckled mirthlessly, his red optics conveying an immeasurable sense of pain and loss. He felt an overwhelming sense of pity for the alien veteran, he had known about the devastation of his species, and had promised to help him rebuild it, but only now did he feel such a strong sense of duty towards that goal.

"Oh, colonel. I have a request."

"What is it?" Another hologram appeared, this one wasn't a schematic; instead, it was a complex chemical formula. "This is the formula for synthetic Energon. I doubt any natural Energon exists on this planet, so I must trouble you with manufacturing some for me."

He hummed slightly in thought. "What exactly is it?"

"Energon is the lifeblood of a Cybertonian. It is our closest equivalent to actual blood. It powers not only us, but our technology too."

His head bobbed up and down absently. "I'll order some to be made immediately."

Backblast smiled. "My thanks."

"While we're talking business. I have a few dossiers of scientists I think could be helpful in our efforts to restore your species." He walked over to one of the terminals and inserted his scroll into the appropriate slot. Immediately, four pictures of scientists appeared, along with an extensive amount of text for each one. Backblast leaned forward and scanned over the data with his optics. "We'll only be able to take one of these four as the final member of the staff, the rest will be sent to other, less important projects throughout the Kingdom."

"Hmmm." The ancient alien hummed slightly in acknowledgment. "This… Watts. He seems too arrogant and prideful to be a safe choice. I've encountered his kind before, and they are not to be trusted."

He nodded. "I'll remove him from the list."

"These two seem intelligent enough, but their records are rather unimpressive. This last one…" Backblast paused. "Are those canine ears on top of her head?"

A brow rose on his forehead. "Yes. She is a wolf Faunus."

All he got in return was a quizzical tilt of the head. It took a moment to realize that Backblast, that's beginning to become a mouthful, had no idea what a Faunus was. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Regardless, I know for a fact she's loyal, and I intended recommend you choose her."

"Her previous work on advanced energy capacitors does seem rather inspired…" The ancient robot hummed slightly in thought. "Very well, add her to the team."

He nodded and tapped a few buttons. "Done. If you have no more questions, then I'll take my leave."

"I wish you the best of luck in the upcoming competition, Colonel."

The new Atlesean Dropship prototypes fared better than expected on the tests, proving to be a significant improvement over the current Bullhead design despite their lesser weaponry and somewhat blocky looking design. Much to the delight of the various important people in the audience. "I'd like to see your "strike fighter" top that, Colonel!"

He glanced to his left at a smug Councilor Greer, making sure to keep his face carefully neutral. "Ask and you shall receive, Councilor."

The intercom over the viewer stands blared to life. "Up next in our demonstration will be the design proposed by Colonel James Ironwood: the ASF-1 Shrike!"

People started murmuring after a couple of minutes when nothing happened, and he could hear Greer snickering at him. Then six of the fastest missiles anybody on remnant has ever seen screamed by overhead, startling the crowd, and impacted with devastating effects on the aerial targets; destroying half of them outright. The three prototype ASF's followed a moment later completely silent at Mach two only for an air shaking boom to follow shortly after them, causing a slight panic. Three twenty five millimeter Vulcans opened up simultaneously with a violent ripping sound, annihilating the last of the air targets. The small formation then flew past the ground targets, having to loop back around to drop their bombs. They dropped the bombs on their second pass, obliterating the entire target field in violent eruptions of dirt and flame.

The entire audience, including Ironwood, looked on in shock at how quickly the strike fighters had come, destroyed the target field, and left.

The intercom blared once more. "T-this concludes the demonstration."

While he had expected the destruction, the sheer speed it had happened still surprised him. He turned to Greer, who still looked shell shocked. "I'd like to see your Dropship top that."

The look of absolute rage that Greer gave him could've melted glaciers with its intensity. "You-!"

Unfortunately for the green eyed councilman, several prominent businessmen swarmed Ironwood yelling over each other about who would get the contract for the Shrike, and congratulating him on the successful demonstration. The look of indignant fury on Greers' face was perhaps the single most satisfying thing he had ever seen. He didn't hate Greer, far from it, but the man had insulted him.

He took that personally.

A.N./I'm fairly pleased with how this turned out, even if it is a bit clunky.

Peace Muh dudes!