The city was a graveyard.
Smoke curled into the poisoned sky, painted in sickly purples and deep reds, flashes of twisted lightning forking through the storm clouds, choking the stars. Fires lit up the horizon, the embers of their dying world. Sirens wailed in the distance, bleeding into the panicked screams of the few survivors still trying to escape.
Explosions rocked the Earth, making her tremble in fear.
Hollowed windows gaped at him like unseeing haunted eyes, and jagged shards of glass jutted from their frames like terrible, gleaming fangs stretched into a wicked grin. Blackened scorch marks licked up the remaining structures, and wires and pipes dangled out of the buildings like a gutted beast, many nothing more than rubble, reduced to nothingness.
The streets were beyond recognition, fractured asphalt torn apart by the Great Battle. Overturned cars lay abandoned, crushed and melted, some still smoldering. Blood painted the ground, pooling in the cracked pavement.
Faces were frozen in agony, mouths twisted in silent screams.
Their protectors were long gone, reduced nothing to rusting corpses, long abandoned. They had fought for a race that abandoned them, hated them, refused to keep them until their last breath. And beside them, were the ones who tried to remove them.
Unmoving, mutilated corpses, humans who had fought and died, against the nightmare.
An agonized wail echoed through the ruins, sending a chill down his spine. It was the sound of something being born... or something dying. It was something ancient, something hungry.
Then he saw him.
Bony, thin hands clawed at the debris, leaving trails of blood where jagged metal had torn into flesh. Wide, glassy eyes locked on his, pupils dilated with terror. Chapped, cut lips quivered as he desperately tried to drag himself away from the shadow looming behind him.
"Help..."
It was barely a sound, more breath than voice.
His body came out of the shadow, a twisted wreck of metal and flesh, wires and plating mixed with torn, bloody skin. Tainted eyes locked onto Jack, the thin purple band of the iris barely visible against the void of his dilated pupil.
His lips parted again, but this time, there was no sound. Only the silent horror written across his face. His mouth formed a final, desperate question:
"What have I done?"
The shadow reached for Silas.
Dark tendrils snaked around the man's ankles, slithering over his body. Silas thrashed, screaming in horror. It burned into his mind as he watched the man get dragged back, hands scraping against the pavement.
"Lily!"
Then he was gone.
Tendrils yanked him back, swallowed him whole in a sickly purple glow. Metal shifted, plating slamming into place, gears and wires grinding and locking into place.
A towering, spiked monstrosity unfurled from within the darkness. Tainted purple optics snapped open, cutting through the shadow.
It was alive, and it was hungry.
A horrible voice filled the Earth.
DEATH COMES FOR ALL...
Gunfire erupted behind him.
Jack spun around as a group of NEST soldiers charged forward. Special ops, highly trained, men who had seen the worst the world had to offer but not this. They fired at the creature, bullets sparking uselessly against its armor.
From the shadows, they came.
Large, rusting and hollow creatures emerged from within the shadow, tainted optics landing on their prey. Groans came from them as they moved, joints and pistons creaking as they ripped into them like rabid beasts.
There was no fight.
Only slaughter.
Some begged. Some ran. Some fought until their last breath. Some didn't even have time to scream before they were torn apart. Limbs were severed. Heads rolled. Blood splattered across the asphalt in grotesque arcs.
One by one, they fell.
It all ended in death.
THE PAST SHALL CONSUME THE FUTURE. THE DEAD SHALL CONSUME THE LIVING. AND CHAOS SHALL REIGN SUPREME...
Jack looked down, seeing thick, warm liquid lapping at his submerged feet. Asphalt cracked and crumbled, splitting the street beside him. Potholes exploded, geysers of blood erupting from their mouths, coating the ruined city in a crimson downpour.
Blood rippled, spreading outward in a thick tide, sloshing against shattered cars and broken bodies. The Earth groaned, splitting open, and he could hear it.
Then, the laughter came.
It came from everywhere and nowhere. It was in his lungs, his bones, his very soul. It vibrated through the buildings, causing shattered glass to tremble and fall in tinkling cascades.
The wave of blood surged down the streets, swallowing cars, bodies, and debris in its path. Screams were drowned, replaced by sickening gulps as it consumed everything, leaving only silence in its wake.
He backed away, foot on the broken remains of what used to be an Autobot. Jack glanced down, recognizing the blue plating smeared with energon and soot.
Arcee.
Her form was ruined and twisted beyond repair, optics gouged, limbs missing, dried energon sticking to her frame. The proud warrior who had protected him, fought for him, died for him was gone. His stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat.
A metallic tendril shot forward.
It wrapped around his throat, lifting him off the ground. His hands clawed at the inky black metal constricting his airway, but it was useless. Darkness crawled at the edges of his vision as the thing brought him closer, tainted optics looking over his frame.
YOU ARE NOTHING, CHILD OF PRIMUS... it hissed. YOUR WORLD IS NOTHING. YOUR STRUGGLES ARE MEANINGLESS...
The darkness closed in, and in it, he saw the Chaos Bringer. In the void of space, where nothing lived, he watched as earth was torn apart.
Great, gleaming structures, long and sharp, extended out into the starry expanse. More and more appeared, forming a mouth. Then fangs and claws. Wings unfurled into the infinite cosmos. Purple optics, twin mists opened.
I DESTROY ALL...
It was a monstrous roar that echoed across the universe, rippling through the stars. It was a promise of death. A promise of destruction. A promise of Unicron.
It was the end.
They had failed.
Oblivion took him with tinkling laughter, echoing forever into the void.
IT KNoWS yOUR NamE—
JAck.
A scream nearly tore from his throat as consciousness came to him, and he tried to sit up, only to be yanked back down, the sound of a chain being rattled following the motion. He opened his eyes, immediately closing them when light stabbed at his retinas.
Sweat coated his skin, and he panted softly, until he managed to get his breath under control.
Why did he keep having these dreams about Unicron?
His opened his eyes again, regretting it. Harsh light stabbed at his eyes, and he struggled to adjust to it. His head throbbed, vision blurry, but he forced himself to focus.
A soft moan from his right made him twist his head, ignoring the pull of restraints against his wrists and ankles. His stomach clenched at the sight.
Miko was strapped to the gurney next to him, unconscious. Wild dark hair spilled over the sides of the gurney; strands of her dark hair stuck to her sweat-slicked forehead. Her skin was deathly pale, and green tendrils were crawling up the side of her face.
No, no, no, no, no.
This couldn't be happening again.
Why why whywhywhy?!
"Sir, the boy is awake." The calm, gravelly voice cut through the beginning of his panic.
Heavy footsteps drew close to the side of his bed, and stepping into view was a face Jack wished he would never have to see again.
Silas.
The terrorist looked somewhat amused, and he immediately noticed the mess that was his nose. The bridge was swollen, bent awkwardly to the left. It was bruised a deep purple with angry red streaks. Dried blood crusted around his nostrils, and a fresh scab ran from the center of his nose down to his upper lip.
Silas tilted his head slightly, dark eyes scanning him. "Comfortable?"
Jack yanked at the restraints experimentally, ignoring the way they bit into his skin. He glared up at the man. "Yeah," he jeered, "I like the new look. Really suits you."
The amusement on Silas' face disappeared in an instant. His eyes hardened, and his jaw tightened. A hand shot out, gripping Jack's chin in a tight hold. The teenager tried to jerk away, but the man's fingers only dug in tighter, forcing him to stare into those eyes.
Jack swallowed, trying to ignore the way the room suddenly felt a lot smaller. He tugged at the restraints again. They didn't budge.
"You think you're funny?" Silas murmured lowly. "I could give you a matching look if you'd like."
"I wouldn't look as good in it as you," he sneered, and the man scowled. A sharp slap followed, leaving a stinging sensation. That didn't deter him. "Did one of your own men finally get sick of you?" Jack let out a bitter laugh, nodding toward the broken mess of Silas' nose. "Got tired of taking orders and decked you in the face?"
Silas' expression darkened even further, and he slowly lifted a hand to the boy's face. Jack thought he was going to slap him again, but he was surprised when a thumb traced along the skin he had just hit, lips curling into the beginning of a terrible smile.
"I'm not surprised you don't remember, Jack," he murmured in a voice that made the teenager's skin crawl. The awful purr of it sent a shiver down his spine.
Remember what?
"You were quite out of control when you woke up two days ago," he continued, eyes glimmering with amusement. "We've had to keep you both sedated."
Two days ago? Wha—
The trade. The Autobots fighting. His mother.
His mom's eyes widened in shock, a choked noise escaping her lips. She looked worse than before, lips quivering as her hand slowly reached for her middle. Her hand came back bloody from the gunshot wound in her stomach.
Her knees buckled and she collapsed onto the ground.
Then darkness.
A green haze and a scream.
Nausea rolled through him as the memories came rushing back. Hatred boiled over, and he forced himself to meet the cruel man's gaze.
"I hate you." The words left his mouth in a low, heated growl, filled with every ounce of his rage.
Silas merely chuckled.
"Perhaps I could say the same about you," the man mused. "You've been nothing but trouble since I got my hands on you. I was starting to doubt if you were even worth the effort." He leaned down slightly, face hovering just above Jack's. "But you are for reasons you're already aware of."
He bared his teeth. "I'll never help you."
His lips curled into a knowing smirk. "You don't get a choice."
The man's gloved hand drifted down to his chin, and finger dug into his skin hard enough to bruise. "You," he murmured, "are mine. You belong to MECH forever."
MECH's leader pulled away, enjoying the emotions flashing across his face.
"I'm not anybody's!" It was an echo of Miko's words after their first escape attempt. He thrashed against the restraints, the cold metal biting into his wrists and ankles, but it was no use. He was trapped and helpless.
Silas rolled his eyes at the display. "You are, Jack," he stated with absolute certainty. "And I can do whatever I please with you. The Autobots aren't coming for you, they practically handed you over to me."
"That's no—"
"And your only family is dead."
The air left his lungs, and for a moment, it was like he'd been thrown back into that moment all over again. The gunshot, the blood, the realization that his mother was dying in front of him, and he could do nothing to stop it, trapped in MECH's arms.
Rage crashed over him, and he saw green tinging his vison. His bared in a feral snarl. "I hate you!" he spat. "I hope you go to hell! I hope you suffer for all of eternity!"
Silas didn't even flinch. He simply turned his head slightly, disinterested, before shifting his attention to someone behind him. "Prep them for surgery."
He had to get out.
"I'LL MAKE YOU PAY!" he howled, twisting and jerking as hard as he could. Silas was back at his side, gripping his chin in a crushing hold once again.
"You won't," he hissed, dangerously. "You'll be one of my most loyal soldiers."
His chest burned, an agonizing, horrible thing worse than anything he had experienced before.
"Right now," he continued, acting like the teenager wasn't writhing in agony beneath him, "you both have a very important procedure to go through. I'd hate to keep you and the girl waiting."
His gaze snapped to the side just in time to see two MECH operatives wheel the unconscious girl away.
"Miko!" the boy shouted. "Miko!"
Silas followed his gaze, then chuckled darkly. "Goodbye, Jack Darby."
The burning in his chest worsened.
His back arched upward as a scream ripped from his throat. It felt like he was being ripped apart, like something inside him was changing, forcing itself to spread, consume, and reshape him from the inside out.
Oh how it huurrrt.
Something sharp pricked his skin.
The last thing he saw was Silas' pleased face and the wicked grin curling his lips.
There was no pain.
No burning in his chest, no aching deep within his bones, no pangs of agony that had plagued his every breath since MECH had taken him.
There was just... silence. And peace.
It was strange. He had been in so much pain for so long that the sudden absence of it felt unnatural. Jack drifted, weightless, lost in a sea of stillness.
His thoughts felt distant, slipping away from him like sand through his fingers. He couldn't hold onto them. He couldn't even try. He was forgetting, but for some reason, that didn't bother him.
It was so peaceful here.
Who are you?
There was a comforting warmth, wrapping around him like a gentle embrace.
What were you doing?
Come to me, my warrior...
The voice was deep and ancient, yet soft and steady, filling the emptiness around him. It pressed against him, seeping into the very core of his being, wrapping around him like a cocoon.
He knew that voice. He had heard it before, somewhere.
Come...
Something inside him resisted.
Why should he go?
It was so peaceful here and he was safe. He didn't want to leave, and instead, he let himself sink deeper into the warmth. It wasn't physical, not like the sun against his skin or the heat of a fire. It was like... spiritual, he supposed.
He wanted nothing else but to rest.
The voice didn't agree.
It would not be ignored. It pressed against him with gentle insistence, wrapping around him like unseen hands, tugging softly.
He stirred or thought he did. It was difficult to tell if he was moving or not in this strange, endless void. He had no concept of time here. Had it been seconds? Minutes? An eternity? It didn't matter. The voice called again thrumming through his very being.
Jack...
"...Stop..." He could barely force the words out, the simple act of speaking draining what little energy he had. "...Let... me..."
Jackson Darby...
Those words stirred something deep within him, his soul, perhaps. It was something half-forgotten, something hidden behind a wall. A flash of a memory—
Raven-black hair, a gentle smile. Ocean-blue eyes, the comforting warmth and familiarity of—
Mom.
The void rippled at the thought—or did he say it aloud?—of the name. It shifted, curling around him, pushing against him gently.
Come..
The vast emptiness around him began to move.
It pulled, twisted, and unraveled like fabric coming apart at the seams. The darkness burned away by light. It was not harsh or blinding but pure, illuminating everything and nothing at once.
It stretched infinitely in all directions, yet it felt so close he could almost touch it. It was an immense, unfathomable presence, and a slow, rhythmic pulse rattled his very being, something he recognized as a heartbeat.
And then he saw it.
A core was the only way he could describe it. It was a massive sphere of swirling golden light, like a storm of energy contained within itself. Veins of energy ran through its surface, threading into the depths of its center, where something watched.
It almost resembled an eye. It was a vast, endless gaze peering through the cosmos, seeing everything.
Warmth seeped into him, flowing through his limbs, soothing aches he hadn't even realized were there. It was so... immense that it was impossible to put into words. It was like being everywhere and nowhere at once.
He felt like his soul had been unraveled and laid bare before something so ancient and powerful that it should have been terrifying.
But it wasn't.
It was... comforting.
I am sorry...
He flinched.
Tendrils of energy reached into him, pressing against his thoughts, against the walls of his mind. It was gentle, but it would not be denied.
Something cracked, and the floodgates opened.
Memories slammed into him.
He saw his mother face and her gentle smile as she beamed down at him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. This was before da—the traitor left them.
He saw himself running toward his father—traitor—jumping into his arms with joy after receiving the bike he'd wanted for so long as a birthday present.
He felt the sensation of his chest burning with terrible pain, and the needles plunging into his skin, delivering their acidic contents.
He saw Miko strapped to a gurney.
And his mom falling, clutching her stomach, crimson blooming against her shirt.
Jack gasped, or he thought he did. The pain was dulled, thankfully, being held back by the presence. It wrapped around him gently, shielding his fragile mind from the brunt of the flood of his memories. It allowed the rest to ease into him, with minimal pain.
I did not wish for you to suffer like this, my child...
It sounded... regretful.
"Who are you?" he rasped.
I am Primus...
The teenager had never believed in gods.
But standing in a place that defied everything he had ever known, where time had no hold and existence itself felt different, he realized he might have to rethink his beliefs. Jack was inside of a god's presence, surrounded by it.
The very essence of this being stretched across infinity, wrapping around him, through him, filling every part of him with a power so immense it made his bones tremble. He was with a being who claimed he was the god of the Cybertronians, Primus.
Something in him wanted to bow, to kneel, to submit to the sheer magnitude of the divine being.
"What... what do you want from me?"
You have endured more than any should. You have suffered at the hands of those who do not understand the consequences of their actions...
"You think?" His voice was higher than he would have liked it to be as he glared into the infinite golden light. "Silas killed my mom! He put a bullet in her like she was nothing! He wanted revenge, and he got it! And I couldn't do anything. I was right there, and I couldn't stop him."
The memories hurt.
"Jack," Silas murmured, having that tone that promised nothing but pain. "You humiliated me. You cost me time. Resources. Money. Now, you see, I'm a patient man. But I don't take kindly to those who hurt me, especially when I was doing favors for them."
"Jack!" His mom spotted him, eyes widening in horror as she spotted him.
Silas' lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile. And then, he pulled out a gun.
"I had fun taking my grievances out on her," he mused, tilting his head. "She has the loveliest voice—"
"You bastard!" Jack snarled, rage igniting like an inferno inside him. His entire body trembled with fury, heat rising in his chest and spreading like wildfire. "Leave her out of this!"
Silas's smile deepened.
"Consider us even," he said coolly, raising the gun. A clap of thunder followed.
Jonathan Darby had held her close, murmuring something Jack would never know.
"I hate him," the teenager whispered, the words dragging something deep and dark out of him. "I hate him more than anything. I—"
He cut himself off.
The warmth shifted, soothing the raw ache in his chest with a lover's caress.
June Darby is not dead...
What?
For a moment, all he could do was stare into the vast, endless light. Then the rage exploded out of him, white-hot and searing.
"Don't. Don't you dare." His voice broke into a sob. "You're lying! You're trying to give me hope."
I do not lie, Jackson Darby...
"No. No, I saw it happen. I watched him kill her."
You saw what he wanted you to see...
"I—" He couldn't force out any other words.
Your Carrier is alive...
It wasn't possible. It wasn't possible.
God, the memories flashed behind his eyes in fractured, scattered pieces.
His mother's hand. The blood. The way she had fallen, like a puppet with its strings cut. The way his father had clutched her, whispered something against her ear.
Had she even stopped breathing? Had he really seen—?
He hadn't.
"Where is she?" He practically begged the god. "Where is my mom?"
She is not beyond your reach, but the journey will not be simple...
Jack swallowed hard, mouth dry. "It never is."
Silas is a dangerous man. His path is one of destruction, and he will not stop until he achieves his goals...
"Yeah, tell me something I don't know," the teenager bit out, bitterly.
The golden presence around him rippled, but there was no anger in it. Only patience.
Your hatred of him is understandable...
"Understandable?!" the boy shouted. "He tortured us! He nearly killed us! He turned my life into a nightmare, and I've barely gotten a second to breathe since I got back from MECH!" Something dark churned in his chest. "I—" His voice trembled. "I want to kill him."
Jack was aware that he was saying the dark, ugly truth out loud to the god of the Cybertronian race.
"I want him to suffer like he made me, Miko, and Raf suffer. I want him to know what it feels like to be helpless."
For a long moment, there was silence.
Then, the warmth around him shifted. And he felt an ache, a sorrow so deep that it pressed against him like the weight of the universe itself.
Revenge is a path without end. It will not bring you peace, only more pain...
"I don't care."
And it will bring others pain...
Others. Not just him. Not just Silas.
His mother. His friends. Miko, Raf, the Autobots. The people he loved.
The warmth rippled.
You must choose your path, Jackson Darby. But know that the choices you make will shape not only your own fate, but the fate of many... It went silent for a long time, grieving. I have watched how the path of revenge has hurt billions...
There was something old and heavy in his voice, a grief so vast and so deep, that it felt like the void itself had swallowed it whole.
Megatron.
Primus was talking about Megatron.
The boy's stomach twisted.
He knew his story from what little information the 'Bots had shared. At some point, he had once fought for freedom, for justice, for a better Cybertron. He had stood beside Optimus as a brother in arms. He had wanted change and fought for it, until the meeting of the High Council where that desire turned into something dark, something cruel, something that had twisted into tyranny.
Megatron had become everything he once swore to destroy.
"You're saying... Megatron became what he is because of revenge?"
Yes, but not at first...
The warmth of Primus' presence shifted.
Once, long ago, he fought for justice. He fought for his people. He fought against a cruel system my children created. But hatred, when left to fester, when given fuel, does not remain righteous...
The light around Jack pulsed, slow and steady, like a heartbeat.
He felt wronged. He felt betrayed. He suffered, and he endured. But in his suffering, he turned to vengeance. And vengeance, Jackson Darby, is a fire that does not die. It does not consume only the one it is aimed at. It spreads. It devours. Until there is nothing left of the one who first ignited it...
Primus' voice was not condemning. Not angry. Not even disappointed.
It was mournful.
The once-glorious metal world, with its shining spires and endless cityscapes, was reduced to nothing but ruin and death. Fire raged across its surface, plumes of smoke rising into a darkened sky. Autobots and Decepticons clashed in brutal, endless battles.
Entire cityscapes crumbled as warships bombarded them from above. The screams of Cybertronians echoed through the carnage, sparks extinguished one after another. Metal bodies were torn apart, discarded, and forgotten.
Now, he ruled over the Decepticons with an iron fist, with the sparks of millions under his belt. The sparks of very people he had once wanted to save.
Megatron lost himself to vengeance. And now, he is but a shadow of what he once was...
"I'm not Megatron."
No. You are not. But the fire of hatred does not care for names. It does not care for intentions. It only burns...
His hatred for Silas wasn't righteous. It wasn't justice. It was revenge, pure and simple. And if he let it fester...
Would he still be himself by the time it was over? Would he even recognize himself? Or would he be just like Megatron? A cruel, hollowed shell of himself? Those thoughts terrified him. He didn't want to become another Megatron.
"What do you want me to do?"
The choice is yours, as is all's. I will not command you. I will not force your hand. I only ask that you truly consider the path you wish to walk. And the cost of walking it...
He did consider the words and realized that the god was right. But there was something else that was bugging him...
"I don't understand. Why did you make us suffer so much at MECH? Couldn't you, I don't know, maybe try to help us? You're a god for crying out loud!"
I did not create suffering, Jackson...
"Well, you let all of us get traumatized! You let Raf fall into the hands of Starscream! You let Miko—" He choked on his own words, unable to finish. "We are just kids. Kids caught in something we never should've been part of!"
The warmth rippled with sorrow.
I grieve for your suffering, just as I grieve for all those who have endured pain in the wake of war. But I cannot interfere...
"Why?" His voice was smaller now, but the anger was still there. "You're Primus. You created the Cybertronians. So why not step in?"
There was a long silence, but it was not empty. Eventually it returned.
To interfere is to take away the gift I have given to all my creations: the gift of choice...
"Choice?"
You have seen the horrors of war and cruelty, of those who wield their power for harm. But you have also seen kindness, resilience, and the strength of those who rise despite it. That choice is what defines you...
"But MECH—"
Chose their path... It was the first time Primus had interrupted him. If I were to intervene, I would strip the power of choice from my creations, then all that would remain is obedience, not will. And without will, there is only a shell...
Primus seemed saddened.
I would be no better than my brother if I took away freedom and forced my will upon the universe...
He wanted to argue.
He wanted to scream that it wasn't fair—that MECH should have never been allowed to do what they did. That nobody should ever have to go through what he, Raf, and Miko had endured.
His chest ached, but the warmth soothed it. "What do you want with me?" he whispered, asking the question once again.
Primus did not answer immediately.
MECH is creating chaos by dabbling with creation...
E-X1.
The substance that had been designed from Airachnid's acid, a product of MECH's twisted obsession with replicating Cybertronian technology.
It wasn't a secret that MECH wanted their own Transformer. They had experimented, desecrated, stolen Cybertronian parts and knowledge, all in a desperate attempt to create something of their own.
Silas had spoken of it how MECH desired replacement for the one that Bumblebee had destroyed.
"Since your Autobot friend destroyed our original prototype, we've been forced to innovate. We want our Transformers. And you, Jack... you and Miko and that runt... are going to be the replacements."
That knowledge made his gut twist.
My brother feeds on chaos... and I fear it has awakened his energy form...
"Hold it— what? That's impossible!"
Jack knew that the 'Bots, with Megatron, had travelled to the core of Earth to stop Unicron from reawakening and destroying their planet. The Matrix had shut him down, at the cost of Optimus's memories, which they had eventually returned with the Key to Vector Sigma.
His corporeal form was rendered inert, but not his energy form. Both of us have energy forms but I merged mine long ago to save my creations...
Jack could only stare into the light.
He will soon find a suitable host to possess...
"Who?" he asked, though deep down, he already knew the answer.
Megatron. He has the Chaos Bringer's energon running through his fuel lines...
"I have not permitted myself contact enough."
A clawed servo plunged into the dark, fuming crystalline structure of the tainted energon. Talons wrapped around a piece jutting out and tugged, freeing the softly pulsing crystal. Megatron raised it high into the air, the sharp tip aimed at his spark chamber, as if preparing to stab himself.
He plunged it in, the dark energon sinking past his protoform and into the chamber protecting his spark, becoming one with its host. The lord of the Decepticons started to tremble, jerking upright as a swirling purple mist travelled up his frame, luminous markings crawling up his frame in geometrical patterns.
A horrible sound, deep and groaning, like one of his Terrorcons, came from Megatron as the dark energon rushed through every fuel line, travelling upward until red optics turned tainted purple.
"So stop it," he snapped, pushing away the dark vision. "You're Primus." The warmth around him shifted again, loosening its hold on him.
I am bound by the balance that governs all things... the ancient voice finally said. To interfere too much would unravel all that is... and all that will be...
The boy stared. "That's your excuse?"
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The very god of Cybertronians, the creator of all things mechanical and sentient, the counterpart to Unicron was choosing to stand back.
I do not wish for the fate of being Unicron's slave upon anyone...
Jack scoffed. "Even Megatron? He's killed planets to get his way! He poisoned Cybe—you! He's killed billions! He deserves whatever fate he gets!"
A silence so heavy followed it felt like the entire universe was holding its breath. Jack felt ancient sorrow, deeper than anything he had ever known. It was like standing in the ruins of a once-great civilization, the echoes of a thousand lost voices whispering through the silence.
I am aware of his evil, Jackson. I have watched all the sparks he has snuffed, and I have grieved for each and every one...
He felt the burden of a god who had watched war after war, cycle after cycle, as his children slaughtered each other. He had grieved every death. Even the ones that didn't deserve to be mourned.
Megatron is important...
The warlord who had waged millions of years of battle, who had ravaged planets and slaughtered entire civilizations in his pursuit of conquest. The tyrant who had poisoned Cybertron itself, who had turned his own people against each other in an endless war.
How was he important?
"How could he be important? He's the problem! He's the reason all of this is happening in the first place! If he's gone, if the Decepticons are gone, then we can finally—"
Jackson...
The voice rumbled through his very soul, stopping him cold.
If Unicron takes Megatron, the battle will be lost before it has even begun. He and his Decepticons will have free reign to do with Earth as they please...
That wasn't good...
The Chaos Bringer's will is vast. If he were to seize control of Megatron's body, his will wound be enacted through a warlord who already commands an army. They would bend to his will and spread Unicron's influence across the stars themselves...
The boy felt a cold dread seep into his very core.
The Autobots were strong, but they were few. They were barely keeping up with the Decepticons as it was. If Unicron took Megatron...
The Autobots wouldn't stand a chance.
The Decepticons were already bad enough under Megatron's rule. But at least Megatron was still his own being. If he was nothing more than a vessel for Unicron, with no will of his own, then there would be no stopping him.
He didn't want to imagine that.
"Then what do we do? How do we stop it?"
The Dark Energon that taints his spark must be expelled...
"You mean—"
As long as the Chaos Bringer's essence lingers within him, he is at risk. It is a tether to Unicron that he can exploit when he regains his strength. If Megatron is to resist possession, the corruption must be purged from his systems...
How the hell were they supposed to do that?
Megatron would never agree to let the Autobots help him. He'd rather die than let them anywhere near his spark.
"Okay." He started pacing, though he wasn't sure if he was actually pacing in this strange, ethereal plane or if it was just an illusion of movement. "Okay, so why hasn't Unicron taken him yet? Why hasn't he already made his move?"
He is not strong enough...
"What?"
Unicron is still weak, Jackson. The chaos MECH has unleashed has begun to stir him, but it is not enough to fully awaken him yet...
"So we have time?" he asked.
Very little...
Jack's heart sank.
Even now, he is regaining strength. The more chaos, the more destruction that spreads, the stronger he will become...
MECH was only speeding things along, especially with the Autobot-Decepticon War still going on.
"So what happens if we don't stop it in time?"
You have seen the vision...
The Earth started to shake, and great, gleaming structures rose out of the broken landscape. Long and sharp and curved, they towered over everything, rising into space.
More and more appeared, forming almost a... mouth. Fangs and claws followed, and jagged edges that formed limbs and eventually... a body. It was larger than Earth itself, and finally, wings unfurled into the vastness of space, flaring out as it straightened to its full height.
There was a monstrous roar, and somehow, its hate-filled sound echoed across the universe itself. It was a promise to all that death and chaos awaited the galaxies in which billions lived. Eons of resentment had only made its hunger for destruction stronger.
I AWAKEN...
Shaking the vision off, he remembered the wording of Primus. "Vision? I saw two." Unless the other one was just a really realistic nightmare, conjured up as a cruel trick to torture himself further.
The warmth around him rippled.
Two...
It came out like a question more than a statement, and it took a moment to realize that Primus had no idea what he was talking about.
"The other vision? With the creature?" he persisted, wondering why he was acting like he didn't send him the second one.
I... never sent a second vision...
The words were like ice down the teenager's spine.
Then, who—
IT KNoWS yOUR NamE—
JAck.
Oh shit. Oh—
He cut off the thoughts. "Um, never mind. It was probably a nightmare."
Primus didn't seem convinced.
"So what do we do?" he asked quickly, shoving the dreadful feeling deep down. It was probably just a nightmare, right? Definitely.
You must unite them...
"What?"
You, Miko, and Rafael. You must bring both Autobots and Decepticons together and end the War...
"U-Unite them?" He gawked at the presence of the god. "You mean the Autobots and the guys who've been trying to murder each other for years?"
If they remain divided, they will fall divided. And Unicron will claim all in his wake...
How were they supposed to do that? How were three human teenagers supposed to unite two factions that had been at war for millions of years? How were they supposed to make Optimus Prime and Megatron—sworn enemies—fight together?
It happened once, when Unicron originally awoke. But only Megatron had worked with the Autobots, and only because he was too prideful to allow Earth to be ruled by another. Could it happen a second time? And with other Decepticons?
"I don't know if you've noticed, but they've been at war for a long time! They hate each other! They're hardwired to kill on sight!"
The warmth felt patient and calm, the opposite of what the teenager was feeling.
"Somehow, we're supposed to step in and convince a bunch of giant warring alien robots to just— what? Shake hands? Hug it out?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, sure. I'll just go up to Megatron and ask him nicely to stop trying to murder Optimus. That'll go great."
You underestimate yourself, Jackson Darby...
Jack stiffened as the voice of Primus washed over him again, deep and rumbling, like the universe itself was speaking through him.
"I am not underestimating anything," the teenager snapped, feeling his frustration boiling over. "I know my limits! I know what I can and can't do! And ending a war that's been raging for longer than my entire species has existed is not something I can do!"
"You are more than you believe yourself to be...
"Yeah? What, am I secretly some lost Cybertronian Prime in disguise?" He laughed dryly. "I'm just a kid. A kid who got caught up in something way bigger than himself. I don't belong in this war."
Just a couple of weeks ago, he would have said he wasn't a kid, but after everything he went through... He shuddered at the thought of it, dark memories flashing before his eyes.
You did not ask for this burden...
The voice sounded sad once again, and the warmth pulsed softly.
But neither did Orion Pax...
Orion Pax.
Optimus.
"What are you saying?" he asked, hesitantly.
Like you, he was once an ordinary being, unaware of the fate that awaited him. He questioned his worth and place among those who towered over him. Often times, he believed he did not have the power to change his world...
But he did, Jack finished in his mind.
He was one of the few sparks worthy of carrying the Matrix of Leadership. And so are you...
His brain short-circuited.
"Wh—what?" he choked out. "No. No, no, no, you've got the wrong guy. I am not Prime material. I am not some great leader. I—I barely know anything about Cybertronian history, or politics, or—or anything! I don't even know how to fight!"
Yet, Optimus had given him the Key to Vector Sigma.
"I've been impressed by how much you have matured since we first met. As such, I feel you have earned the responsibility of safeguarding this important device... until I return."
He hadn't returned from the battle with Unicron, and Optimus had known that might happen. That's why he entrusted him with Cybertron's most important relic. He had wondered why, and assumed after Ratchet had told him his story, it was because he was like Orion Pax.
The strength of a Prime is not measured by how well one fights, Jackson Darby. It is measured by the strength of one's spark...
"But I'm not Cybertronian! I don't even have a spark! I'm just a—"
You have the spark of a leader. The courage to stand when others would fall...
"Even if that's true, how does that help? You're asking me to do something impossible."
Nothing is impossible, Jackson...
How was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to unite two factions that had done nothing but kill each other for centuries?
The Autobots would never trust the Decepticons. The Decepticons as a whole would never want to unite with the Autobots.
Megatron might listen to reason, if only it were to save the planet he wanted so badly to rule. But ending the war? Permanently?
"Why me?" he whispered. "Why us?"
You, Miko, and Rafael are untainted by war. You do not carry the same hatred or the same wounds. You are the only ones who can bring them together...
Jack sensed that the warmth was beginning to fade.
Trust in who you are, trust in those who walk beside you...
"Wait, but—I still have so many questions!" Jack protested, "I don't even know where to start!"
You will find the way...
"I—" He faltered and then forced himself to speak. "What if I fail?"
If you do nothing, you will fail...
No pressure, right?
Before he could open his mouth again, the energy around him grew cooler, dimming ever so slightly. The pull became stronger, tugging him back into the void.
Do you wish to return, Jack...?
"I-I guess," he stammered, feeling the tug grow stronger to the point it was almost unbearable.
The tendrils of warmth slipped away entirely, and suddenly, he was falling. Jack gasped, or thought he did, trying to move in the nothingness. But there was nothing to hold onto. There was nothing but the rapidly fading glow of the ancient being he had just spoken to.
Remember the key... The tone was urgent. To awaken your true self...
"What key?"
The god did not answer.
"Primus!" he shouted, panicking.
Awaken...
The voice echoed one final time, distant and slipping away.
And then, everything was gone.
Miko Nakadai had never considered herself the type to be shaken by anything. She'd always been brash and fearless. Or at least, she acted that way, when deep down she was scared sometimes.
Golden warmth surrounded her, and it was nothing like stepping into a room or walking into sunlight. The energon thrummed through her body, wrapping around her in an embrace that was gentle, like a hug.
She felt tiny, like an ant standing before a sun, overwhelmed by something so ancient and immense that her mind couldn't even begin to grasp it.
This was Primus, the god of the Cybertronians.
And he had just told her she was supposed to unite the Autobots and the Decepticons. Unite them! As in, stop a war older than human civilization itself. The very same war that had ruined Cybertron. The war that had stolen millions, billions of lives. The war that had nearly killed Bulkhead, time and time again.
She wasn't the smartest kid in the world, but she even knew that was impossible.
"You're kidding, right?" Her voice came out small and weak. That wasn't like her. But how else was she supposed to react?
She had watched what the Decepticons did and seen the bodies they left behind. She had seen the pain in Bulkhead's optics when he thought she wasn't looking and heard the deep sadness in his voice when he talked about the battles he had fought. He had nearly died so many times. He had almost—
The Japanese didn't want to think about that.
And now, after everything, she was supposed to just—what? Walk up to Megatron, shake his hand, and say, "Hey, guys! I know you've been at war since before my species even existed, but can you just... not?"
Bullshit.
"You can't be serious."
The presence pulsed, filling her with warmth, but it didn't make her feel any better.
The path before you is difficult, Miko Nakadai...
"I can think of a million reasons why that's not happening."
The warmth around her remained steady, patient, understanding, not reacting to her biting tone at all. That only made her angrier. Because Primus didn't get it.
A sadistic laugh echoed in her ears, green glowing liquid sloshing in a cup. The rim was tilted to her lips, and despite her best attempts at fighting, it slid down her throat. It hurt so much more than the injections! It felt like her mouth was peeling away and burning with a white-hot pain, spreading through her veins.
Screams escaped her lips as agony blinded her, dark spots dancing across her vision. It eventually stopped, leaving her with stinging, swollen and blistered mouth, and she could feel stuff peeling from her gums. She felt like she couldn't breathe, her throat was on fire.
The warmth curled around, sensing her distress, soothing the open wounds that were flaring.
MECH.
"You're a bold one, aren't you Miko. Let's see how long that lasts."
Mr. Creepy Baldie face had laughed.
"You are my chimeras."
The burn of something wrong being pumped into her veins spread throughout her body.
She had never felt so small, so powerless and helpless , and she hated it. She hated them. She hated everything. Miko had thought she was tough, but circumstances had a way of changing that.
Bulkhead had saved her, though.
"It's not a dream, Miko," the Wrecker said gently, his own voice trembling. "I promise. I'm here for you."
She sobbed harder, shaking as he held onto him. She was never going to leave his side again! Ever. If anybody tried to take her away from Bulk, she'd fight them.
"I've got you," he murmured. "You're safe now."
Miko pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a tear-stained face. "I-I thought I'd never see you again," she choked out.
"You'll always see me," he promised. "No one's taking you away from me again."
But he broke that promise. He let that bitch, Galloway, take her away, and didn't even do anything! She had screamed, begged, yet the Autobots didn't look at her in the eye as the elevator sealed them from her sight.
Wheeljack had come and stayed with her, comforting her. He told her she was a Wrecker, and that- she didn't realize she needed to hear that. She wished Bulkhead had been there for that moment, but he wasn't, probably busy licking that idiot's boot.
"I'm sor—"
He'd tried to apologize but Ratchet the Hatchet had stopped him because of the very dire news that she, Jack and Raf were dying. Well, Raf wasn't dead but a Transformer. Changed by MECH, and she had no idea how they did it.
And now this ancient being was telling her she had to somehow stop a war. She was supposed to convince the Decepticons to work with the Autobots. Like, forever. How the heck was she with her friends supposed to stop a war?
She refused to believe that this was possible. "No," she choked out. "I'm weak. I can't—" She swallowed, forcing the words out. "I can't do this."
She had always thought she was strong. She had thrown herself into battle, defying danger, charging headfirst into situations she had no business being in. But that was different. That was reckless. That was stupid. Maybe if she had kept her trap shut, Galloway wouldn't have known about her or Jack or Raf...
The warmth rippled.
I understand your pain...
She laughed bitterly. "No. No, you don't. You weren't there. You didn't see—" Her voice cracked, but she forced herself to keep going. "Do you have any idea what they did to us?"
The golden light pulsed again. It felt... sad.
I have seen all that has transpired. I have grieved for your suffering. It was not my wish for you to suffer like this, my child...
"They experimented on us," she spat. "Like we were lab rats. Like we weren't even human. MECH wasn't just some Saturday morning cartoon villain. They weren't like Starscream with his stupid monologues and his dumb backstabbing. They were real. And they hurt us. And they didn't even care."
Silas' face flashed in her mind.
"They just wanted power. And I couldn't do a damn thing to stop them."
She had fought, yeah. She had fought until her throat was raw from screaming, until her body was covered in bruises from struggling. But it hadn't mattered. She had still been powerless.
She hated it.
Oh how she hated it.
"You don't get it! You're a god!" She continued her rant, ignoring his apology. "You don't know what it's like! You don't know what it's like to be helpless, to be strapped down while they cut into you! To hear them laugh while you scream! To—"
She broke off, unable to continue on. Miko hated how weak and sad she sounded. Fath— The girl stamped down those line of thoughts.
The golden light around her did not recoil from her pain. It only held her like a mother would her child.
I understand more than you know, Miko...
She wanted to argue, but something about that ancient, so impossibly tired voice made her pause.
I have watched my children tear each other apart for millions of years. I have seen them suffer, heard their cries, and yet I have been unable to stop it.
She could feel that the god deeply wished he could take away the suffering, but he couldn't. He had already explained that to her, and why. She didn't think it was fair, though.
I am bound by the balance that governs all things...
If you had the power to do something, why not use it? Primus had told her if he were to directly intervene, he would be imposing his will upon the universe and would be just as bad as his brother.
But would he? Really? It would be just once.
So, he was indirectly intervening...
Like you, the Autobots and the Decepticons have both suffered. Their war has cost them their home and their people. They have lost so much. Yet there is still a chance for something more...
"They'll never go for it."
They must, if they do not want to be destroyed. You, my child, will help unite them...
She opened her mouth, but no words came. Again, she repeated this until she could force her tongue to work properly. "I'm just a human," she muttered. "Just a dumb kid who gets in the way. I'm nothing."
It was an echo of her father's words over the years.
The golden light pulsed around her, wrapping her in tighter warmth, gently and comforting. It made her long for her cats back in Japan. She could sense... disapproval from the presence.
You are far from nothing, Miko Nakadai...
She shuddered at the gentle but firm tone. "I'm not strong enough."
You are stronger than you know. You have endured suffering and still stand. You have known fear and still fought. You have faced great evil in this universe and have not broken...
"I did break."
She felt the golden warmth ripple.
No. You bent, but you did not break. There is a difference. You are a being of iron will. You are fierce, unyielding. You are fire, refusing to be snuffed out. And you are not alone...
Tears pricked at her eyes, or at least she thought they were, it was hard to tell in this magical place. Warm tendrils seemed to dry the wetness away.
Like your guardian, you are a Wrecker...
Miko immediately thought of Bulk's stories about the Wreckers, about how they never backed down, no matter how impossible the odds were. How they fought, even when they knew they wouldn't win. Even when the whole universe was against them.
Wheeljack had called her a Wrecker. And now, Primus himself was telling her she was.
You are bold, brave and fiercely loyal to those you love. You are a force to be reckoned with, Miko Nakadai, and you must not let others tell you otherwise...
"I—" Her voice broke, and she sniffled at the words. They were impacting her more than she thought. The girl felt... better. "I don't know if I can do this."
You can...
The voice wrapped around her gentle, and impossibly vast. The warmth around her began to shift, and she could feel a tug, a tether to the other side.
Do you wish to return, Miko...?
She could stay here, but she would be leaving her friends and family. The Autobots. And she would give Unicron a chance to rise and destroy the galaxy. Miko couldn't allow that to happen, she wouldn't.
She was a Wrecker, and she would fight for her planet until the last breath. Even if it meant trying to stop a war that has been going on for a long time.
"Yes."
The warmth seemed pleased, slowly releasing its hold on her.
Remember the key...
"What—what key? What does that mean?"
Remember...
The pull grew stronger.
"No—wait! I don't understand!"
Everything went black.
Silas observed his two new weapons.
One was a lean mech of deep blue, red flames accenting his chassis and shoulder armor, along with his legs. Black lines traced the seams of his plating, and a gold crest extended from his helm. He was far more vicious looking than R-1, with deadly talons extending from his servos and razor-sharp armor framing his grim, silver face. Three sharp fins extended from where his ear used to be and showed no signs of being active.
On his back was something that resembled a jetpack-like contraption, which appeared to double as folded wings to form the diamond-shaped device. Two pointed tips extended from the top, and it broadened in the middle, narrowing down to the bottom with a thruster.
The other one had the curves of a female. She was slightly shorter than J-1, but twice as broad with far thicker and bulkier armor, equally as sharp. Most of M-1 was jet-black, ruined by bright pink streaks and gold patches. Splotches of purple rested above the headlights, looking like a bucket of paint was dropped on it.
Black and bright pink armor framed her silver face in a way that looked like a helmet with pigtails. Winglets projected for her upper back, like that pesky bug's, but ended in sharp tips. Lips were peeled back into a grimace, allowing him to see sharpened cuspids.
He wasn't sure why they kept emerging with such... colorful designs. It seemed the sparks customized their forms into something personal. He made a note of it for further research, but in the end, it hardly mattered.
All that mattered was that they were his.
They were weapons. His weapons. And with them, he would finally accomplish what MECH had set out to do.
He straightened, clasping his hands behind his back as he gave the command.
"Begin the memory wipe."
The leader of MECH considered, for a brief moment, the idea of sending images of the three brats bloody, lifeless forms to the Autobots. A gift, if he would, and a message. He could only imagine their looks, perhaps, he could find a way to send them to the aliens. Maybe install a camer—
"Sir." A voice broke through his thoughts. One of the technicians, a younger man with thin glasses perched on his nose, looked up from his station. "Our energon detectors are picking something up."
MECH's energon detectors were among the most invaluable tools in their arsenal, classified blueprints provided by an ex-Sector Seven agent. The former intelligence operative had claimed to hail from an organization that had hoarded knowledge and weaponry on Cybertronians long before MECH had ever begun its operations.
They had revealed Sector Seven had been disbanded, resources seized, and secrets exposed. This agent, after being fired, offered his expertise to MECH, shortly after their... excursion in Jasper. His price had been expensive, but what he had given in return was more than worth it: blueprints for a device that could detect Transformers by their energy signatures alone.
He'd learned that Transformers had something called fields, emitted by their life-force fuel energon. By detecting the unique signature emitted by them, it allowed them to pinpoint their location, essentially acting like a radar for detecting Transformers.
It worked best when a Transformer was bleeding, and it was a lot more difficult when these fields were 'tight' or 'shielded,' as so eloquently put by the agent. He wasn't sure what voodoo these Transformers worked, but they were a lot more complicated than he had originally thought.
The energon detectors had been the key to obtaining the Vehicon frames, and before the Decepticons came to take their dead after the fights with the Autobots, they had managed to drag away a few.
There had been two other alerts, one in Ecuador and the other in the Alps Mountains. They hadn't investigated since there were the others there.
"Sir?"
Realizing he hadn't answered, he demanded, "Where?"
The technician glanced at the readouts on his screen before continuing. "Arizona. The Grand Canyon. Faint but detectable. There doesn't seem to be anything else there."
This could be promising. It could be another opportunity to get their hands on much needed technology for them to study.
"Send R-1 to investigate."
Originally, this chapter was going to be much longer. I split it in half because it was far too long, so the part that was supposed to be here will be in Chapter 22.
The conversation with Primus was going to be two-three chapters later rather than this one, but then I was rereading the other two chapters I typed out, and I didn't like the order. So, I swapped it around, obviously.
Miko's conversation was much shorter with Primus (to the reader) since it would have been much alike Jack's. Even his conversation has many similarities to Raf's, and I only realized that after I typed it out. So I had to completely rewrite the first half of Jack's chat with the god.
I love writing the visions, particularly this one. Obviously because Silas is miserable and apparently being punished for something. Perhaps it is a taste of what could be in his future...
Measurements
Autobots:
Optimus - 32ft | Ultra Magnus - 30ft | Bulkhead - 25ft | Ratchet - 24ft | Smokescreen - 23ft | Wheeljack - 21ft | Bumblebee - 20ft | Arcee - 16ft
Decepticons:
Megatron - 34ft | Dreadwing - 31ft | Shockwave - 28ft | Breakdown - 26ft | Starscream - 26ft | Soundwave - 26ft | Knock Out - 21ft | Vehicons - 20ft
Miscellaneous:
Insecticons - 36ft | Airachnid - 19ft | Cliffjumper - 18ft
Former Humans:
Jack - 26ft | Miko - 25ft | Raf - 20ft
I found their heights from the Wiki pretty easily. Hardshell was 36ft, so that makes all the Insecticons 26ft. Vehicons, according to fandom, are 19ft but at the beginning of the episode when Cliffjumper dies, they look so much taller than him. So I just added an extra foot.
Anyways, hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think :)