Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XV, Chapter Eleven

 CHAPTER ELEVEN

“All right,” Sari said, standing at the mercy of Tarantulas. “You’ve got me. What do you want from me?”

The spider Predacon tittered in response. “Ah, compliance. Such a rare experience for me. Although, what assurance do I have that you will do as I ask once I explain things to you?”

“Seeing as how you’ve somehow gotten the ability to freeze time, there’s not really anything I can do besides whatever you’ve got in mind,” Sari replied, folding her arms. “So go ahead. Out with it.”

Again, that horrible cackle. “Oh, this is just too much for me. You are everything I could have hoped for and yet so much more.”

Sari raised an eyebrow behind her mask. “What do you mean?”

“Your independent mind,” Tarantulas replied. “Your free will. If I hadn’t known better, I never would have suspected you to be a lab-born experiment.”

“How do you know I’m a ‘lab-born experiment?’ Were you… were you involved in my creation?”

“Not to a great extent,” Tarantulas said. “I was secretly in touch with Scorponok — something which I hid from my ‘friends’ in the Secret Order — and he summoned me to Earth to provide some input on his operations. I provided him with some samples of the Obtenteum I had created from Shockwave’s Regenesis ore here on this planet which allowed him to craft the material needed to create the perfect techno-organic. I am pleased to see that such material has held up in the past nineteen years.”

“Yeah, so am I,” Sari muttered. “So, besides gushing over me, what exactly is it that you want me to do?”

“It’s rather simple, really,” Tarantulas cackled. “I want you to help me break reality.”

“Break reality… I’m sorry, what the hell does that even mean?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like it means. For some time now, I have been studying this Autobot we captured back in Verenya and I have since discovered that he was sent through time by the artifact we know as the Talisman. His mere existence has become a temporal anomaly. This — combined with all of the transwarp experiments that Decepticon and Autobot alike have dabbled in — has led me to believe that the very fabric of time and space of our universe has become threadbare and on the brink of collapse. The recent event of Unicron’s spirit being freed from the Dead Universe via the Grand Architect’s weapon has only further solidified my hypothesis.”

“Right,” Sari said carefully. “You lost me after the words ‘temporal anomaly.’ Can you just tell me how I’m supposed to factor into all this?”

Tarantulas growled in annoyance. “Perhaps if you weren’t so impatient and would let me finish,” he said. “I have come to the realization that my thoughts are perceived as nonsense by others, thus leaving me alone to be aware of this situation. Because of this, rather than try to fix the issue on my own, I have decided it would be better to compound the issue. That way, people will have no choice but to acknowledge the issue and do something to fix it… if they even have time to do so.”

Sari frowned. “So… you want to collapse the universe just so you can spite people you don’t like? Is that what you’re trying to get at?”

“More or less. That is where you come in, of course.”

Sari folded her arms. “How so?”

“The Predacon ship in the sky — they call it the Darksyde — carries a transwarp drive,” Tarantulas said, pointing at the clawed spacecraft in question. “I want you to sneak on board and use it to travel to a specified point in time. Once there, you will make a drastic change to history that will sufficiently disrupt the universe.”

“You can’t give me any more details?” Sari asked. “Like, which specific point in time are we talking about? What change am I making?”

“I will tell you once you are on board the ship,” Tarantulas replied. “I wouldn’t want you running off and blabbing about my plans to the Autobots, now would I?”

Sari sighed as she looked up at the Darksyde, frozen in place as everything else was. She already knew that she was not going to carry out Tarantulas’ plans; it was simply a matter of pretending to go along with him for long enough so that she could get the full details of his plan without actually executing it. How exactly she was going to go about that, she was not quite sure yet.

“All right,” she finally said after a moment. “I’ll do it.”

She cringed as Tarantulas erupted in another fit of maniacal laughter. “Excellent! Trust me, little one, you will be doing the universe a great favor by trusting me.”

In more ways than you know, eight eyes, Sari thought to herself.

*  *  *

“So,” Bulkhead said, “does anyone want to ask who invited him?”

Bumblebee grimaced as he and his fellow Autobots, along with their Maximal allies, all stared up at Onyx Prime, standing forebodingly at the top of Sumdac Tower. Even the Predacons had stopped fighting and were exchanging equal looks of confusion.

“What do we do?” he heard the Fuzor known as Quickstrike whisper. “He didn’t warn us about this.”

“Don’t do anything until we hear back from Megatron,” Dinobot growled back.

Bumblebee did not know what the Predacons were doing following Megatron all of a sudden, though he supposed he should not have been too surprised. Deciding not to dwell on it, he looked over to Primal Major.

“What should we do?” he asked. “Should we wait for him to make the first move?”

“Are ya’ kidding?” snapped Rattrap. “He’d annihilate us without so much as lifting a servo! I say we start shooting at him.”

“Wait,” Rhinox said, raising an emerald hand. “He’s starting to move.”

Indeed, Onyx Prime had started to crouch down and looked as if he was about to take flight. Without warning, Rattrap let out a cry and started shooting at the ancient Prime, though his blaster left little damage on Onyx’s ancient black armor plating. Just as Primal moved to disarm Rattrap and reprimand him, Onyx Prime jumped down from his perch and landed on the ground before them, tucking in his great orange wings.

“Lay down your weapons,” Onyx Prime growled softly. “I mean you no harm.”

“Like hell you don’t!” Rattrap cried, trying to wrestle his tiny arms out of Primal’s firm grasp. “What are you gonna do, brainwash us again! Over my cold, offline chassis!”

“I am not going to brainwash you. I just want to talk.”

“Go ahead, start talking,” said Cheetor, raising his own gun. “Just don’t say anything that will scratch my itchy trigger finger.”

“Stand down, all of you!” Primal barked. He then turned his attention to Onyx, his optical sensors narrowed. “What do you want, Onyx?”

“What I want has just been taken away from me,” the ancient Prime replied. “The Underbase has just been destroyed, ruining my plan to use it to end the dynasty I once considered myself to be a part of. Even if I do go through with executing Optimus or Rodimus or anyone else who still calls themselves a Prime, I will still be met with resistance and a new Prime will simply rise to take their place. It would ultimately be counterproductive.”

“What exactly changed your mind?” Primal asked. “Just a year ago, when we defeated Thunderwing and the Fallen, you seemed more than happy to allow Rodimus to carry the Matrix of Leadership and serve as Prime.”

“It was because of our conflict with Thunderwing and the Fallen that led me to change my mind,” Onyx Prime said. “During our pursuit of Liege Maximo, I realized just how dangerous the title of Prime was; how it fed into our egos and made us power-hungry. That much was demonstrated by Thunderwing, by the Fallen and Quintus, even by myself and Nexus initially. It was because of this realization that I withdrew myself from the pursuit and left Nexus and Convoy to their fates; as much as it pained me to do so, I knew their deaths would be better for the universe in the long run.”

“Is that why you are back in your original body and not in the gestalt created by the original five Predacons?” asked Rhinox. “Not to say you aren’t imposing as it is, but you are noticeably a lot… smaller than you were the last time you were on Earth.”

Onyx Prime nodded. “My body — this body — is ancient, and I knew it would not be sufficient for the conquest of Cybertron that Nexus and I had originally planned. With his help, I transferred my spark into a Prime Master which was then carried around by the Predacon leader Razorclaw without his knowledge. Once the Enigma of Combination was retrieved and Predaking was formed, I promptly took over their combined state.”

“Where is Predaking now, then?” asked Arcee.

Onyx Prime shrugged. “I left him to Liege Maximo’s mercy along with Nexus and Convoy. Primus knows what he has decided to do with him.”

“Speaking of which,” Primal said, “do you have anything to do with the bot running around calling himself ‘Primus?’ He also goes by the Grand Architect, if that rings any bells.”

Onyx Prime stiffened at this. “I… am aware of such an individual.”

“Not what I asked. We already know that Liege Maximo is working with him, and it’s pretty convenient that you abandoned your fellow Primes to Liege Maximo as soon as you got to Planet X where Primus was building his ‘God Gun’ or whatever it is called.”

“Enough!” Onyx Prime snarled before rolling his claws into fists. “Yes, I did inadvertently work with Liege Maximo and the Grand Architect. In fact, it was Maximo who helped solidify my decision to change my course of action. He reached out to me through a private connection, knowing that I was not as noble as Nexus or Convoy, and told me of the Grand Architect and his plans. He told me that Primus was planning on retaking control of Cybertron and abolishing the succession of leadership that was the Prime title. This already aligned with my shifting views and I agreed to help facilitate their endeavors.”

Primal frowned in confusion. “The Titan Masters told us they knew nothing about the Grand Architect and were simply following your will.”

“Of course they told you that. Seeing as how my schemes and Primus’ were more adjacent rather than interconnected, I saw no need to inform them of the higher power I was working with, although I’m sure Sovereign at the very least suspected a connection as events developed.”

“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up,” Rattrap said dryly. “So now that your precious Underbase is gone, what are you gonna do now? Run crying to Primus?”

Onyx Prime glared at the rodent Maximal and Primal opened his mouth to give Rattrap another reprimand when Cheetor tapped him on the shoulder.

“Big Bot! We’ve got company.”

Bumblebee joined Primal and the others in looking up towards the sky. Having joined the Darksyde was a blocky orange transport which was more in line with Autobot ship design than it was with Decepticon or Predacon design. The Darksyde itself made no move to stop the transport as it quickly made its descent. At the same time, the ship lowered its landing ramp to reveal a herd of beast-formers, all bearing the green Maximal insignia. At their forefront was a white and gold mech with a red chestplate and a helmet that bore an uncanny resemblance to that of Optimus Prime.

“Leo Prime?!” Primal exclaimed. “What in the AllSpark’s name is he doing here?”

“Well, you did call for backup,” Cheetor pointed out.

“Don’t just stand around!” Dinobot snarled to his Predacons, who were still gawking in silence at both Onyx Prime and the new arrivals. “Shoot them down!”

As the Predacons started to open fire, Leo Prime and the Maximals began pouring out of the ship. While several of them returned fire with the Predacons, Leo Prime seemed to be ignoring both them and the astonished stares from Primal and his crew. In fact, as the former Maximal leader transformed into his lion form and let out a thunderous roar as he made his lunge, Bumblebee quickly realized exactly who his target was mere seconds before Leo Prime collided with Onyx Prime.

*  *  *

“Ah, and here we have the pretender,” Onyx Prime rumbled as he threw the attacking white lion off of him. “Here for another desperate play for power?”

“Shut up!” Leo Prime snarled, transforming back to his robot mode. “This has nothing to do with power or titles! This is for all of your lies and deceptions! For what you did to my people on this very planet!”

“’Your people?’ They’re not ‘your people,’ Cybertronian. They never were. They only followed you because of what you pretended to be, not for what you actually were.”

“Enough!” Leo Prime drew a large golden sword. “It doesn’t matter what you or anyone else thinks. I don’t even care how history remembers me as a person; so long as they remember me for what I did.”

“For constantly failing?” Onyx Prime chuckled. “I suppose they will.”

Leo Prime roared as he charged towards the ancient Prime, swinging his sword. Onyx crossed his arms to block the first wave of strikes, allowing the former Maximal leader to push him back a few steps. When Leo paused, Onyx chose then to lash out with his claws, delivering a series of slashes across the Maximal’s chest. He then grabbed the golden sword by the blade and wrenched it out of Leo Prime’s grasp, tossing it to the side.

“Pathetic,” the ancient Prime opined.

“I’ll show you pathetic,” Leo Prime retorted as he brandished a set of claws from his servos before pouncing onto Onyx. He proceeded to claw at Onyx’s face, wrestling against his foe whenever the older Prime attempted to grab his arms or push him off. Upon seeing an opening in Onyx’s neck, Leo seized on the opportunity and plunged his claws into the space beneath Onyx’s head, eliciting a pained cry from the dragon. Leo Prime savored the sound as he pushed his claws deeper.

“How does it feel?” the former Maximal leader whispered into his audio sensor. “To be knocked down several pegs from your high-and-mighty pedestal?”

“You tell me,” Onyx growled back. He then grabbed onto Leo by the back and used all of his might to lift him up, extracting the claws from his neck in the process. This brought back another wave of pain to the ancient Prime, causing him to lose his grip on Leo as he started to cough and sputter energon.

As Leo Prime got back to his feet and prepared to make another strike, he heard a familiar voice call out his name. He looked over to see Primal Major standing there, weapons drawn but none of them aimed at him.

“I know I’m not the first face you want to see right now,” Leo Prime muttered, looking away from his successor. “I promise you that I’m not here to usurp command from you or anything like that.”

“Actually, I was going to lend you a hand,” Primal replied. “Any grievances I have towards you can wait; defeating Onyx Prime and the Predacons takes priority.”

Leo Prime smiled slightly beneath his mouthplate. “You’re a better leader than I could ever be, Primal,” he said quietly. “Perhaps you’re even more worthy of the name Prime than I am.”

“Neither of you are worthy of anything,” Onyx Prime rumbled as he rose back up, energon still leaking from the gash in his neck. “Least of all the title of Prime.”

“Fine by me,” said Primal, brandishing a pair of swords. “Handing your aft to you will be satisfaction enough.”

Onyx narrowed his eyes at the two Maximal leaders, now standing side-by-side and ready for battle. “Such insolence.”

He then transformed into his dragon mode — a process which sounded painful in and of itself — before charging towards the pair. Unable to breathe fire any longer, the dragon instead settled for lashing out its head with its long neck and snapping at Primal. The primate Maximal managed to roll out of the way in time as he swept his swords in a smooth motion, cleanly severing Onyx’s right wing at the hinge. As the dragon howled in pain, Leo Prime retrieved his own sword and moved to cut off the left one only to be knocked aside by the one-winged beast’s tail.

“I cannot end like this!” Onyx Prime bellowed. “I refuse to fall before a pretender Prime and his accomplice!”

“Fine,” Leo Prime grunted as he got back to his feet once more. “You don’t want to be humiliated? Then look at things this way: You are not fighting Leo Prime, leader of the Maximals. Nor are you fighting Leo Prime, self-proclaimed Beast King of Eukaris.”

He gripped his sword with both hands, his optics blazing like a pair of blue suns.

“You are fighting Lio Convoy, the first resistor.”

The dragon’s eyes went wide as Lio Convoy charged towards it and brought his sword down not onto its last remaining wing but onto its neck. Its encounter with the late Kicker Jones had left the armor plating connecting the dragon’s head to the rest of its body weak and vulnerable, making it easier for the golden blade to cut through it and severe the beast’s head.

An agonized scream reverberated from deep within the dragon as it changed shape one last time into Onyx Prime’s robot form. While far from fatal, the loss of his beast mode head had left the ancient Prime disoriented and in intense pain, unable to get a grip on his surroundings. Lio Convoy quickly took advantage of this opportunity and drove his sword straight into Onyx Prime’s chest, piercing straight into his spark chamber.

Onyx’s optic flashed for a second before dimming. Lio Convoy held onto the sword handle as the ancient Prime collapsed onto his knees, energon beginning to seep from his wound.

“Convoy…” Onyx Prime coughed, splattering purple fluids on the Maximal’s chestplate. “Should have… figured….”

Slowly and carefully, Lio Convoy pulled the sword out of Onyx Prime’s chest. The ancient Prime moved to clutch his wound but was too weak to so much as shift a piston. Instead, he used the last of his energy to lift his head up to look into his slayer’s optics one last time.

“Savor your feeling… of triumph. I am not… the greater threat… that you have to—”

Whatever else Onyx Prime had to say was to cut off short as all life fled from his optical sensors and he collapsed onto the ground. The ground shuddered slightly from the impact, then went still.

As Lio Convoy stood over the body of the fallen dragon, Primal came up to stand beside him. Sheathing his swords, the leader of the Maximals placed a hand on his predecessor’s shoulder and allowed himself a small smile.

“Credit where it’s due,” he said. “That was impressive.”

“Does this absolve me in your eyes?” Lio Convoy asked.

“We’ll see,” Primal replied. “Come on. We’ve still got work to do.”

*  *  *

It was done. Onyx Prime was dead.

Beast Megatron had watched the action unfold from the safety of the Darksyde. His plan had worked and events had developed exactly as he had foreseen them. While there was still much more to be done, he was comforted by the fact that things were proceeding smoothly so far. Now it was time for the next step.

“Predacons,” he spoke into his comm unit. “Return to the Darksyde at once.”

“What?!” Dinobot responded. “But the Maximals are still here! They’ve just killed Onyx Prime!”

“Yes, and they will be dealt with in due time. But first, we must proceed to the next item on the agenda.”

“What about Tarantulas? You said he would be here.”

Beast Megatron smiled to himself. “Indeed I did. I did not say we were done yet, Dinobot. Please exercise some patience for once.”

He heard the saurian Predacon snarl but nonetheless acquiesce to the command before ending the call. Down below, the Predacons started to transform, with those capable of flight picking up those who were not. Some of the Maximals moved to stop them but were stalled by their leader. No doubt Primal was trying to display mercy after having just helped in killing the once and former ruler of the beasts.

Beast Megatron sneered in disgust. Typical heroic nonsense.

Once the Predacons were all aboard, Beast Megatron punched in a few commands and the Darksyde shot off for its next destination.

*  *  *

“Man, and just when I was starting to get warmed up!” groused the Maximal known as B'Boom as the Predacon ship took off. “Talk about anti-climatic.”

“We should probably follow them,” suggested Arcee. “I doubt they’re up to anything good; their presence here may very well have been a ruse.”

“Hey, at least we got something accomplished,” Rattrap said, kicking Onyx Prime’s lifeless corpse. “Not for nothing, but I’d say slaying one of the first Primes is a pretty impressive feat.”

“It’s been done before,” Rhinox reminded him. “Besides, the Thirteen were never demigods or any of the sort; just ordinary mechs like you or me.”

“Eh… ‘ordinary’ is a weird way of putting it.”

“There’s no time for this,” Primal said. “We should head back to the Axalon and chase after them.”

“Wait!” Bumblebee said. “We need to find Sari and Kicker! They were in the tower when it… when Onyx Prime showed up….”

A winged Maximal Fuzor promptly stepped up and picked up the yellow Autobot, flying him up to the opening in the top of the tower where Onyx Prime had made his appearance. As Silverbolt set Bumblebee down, the latter immediately spotted a young human woman with dark hair, who was looking around in distress and confusion.

“Verity?” Bumblebee asked. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story,” Verity muttered. “I met up with Sari and her boyfriend or whatever and they just… he just sacrificed himself or something and Sari—”

“Where is she?” Bumblebee cut her off. “What happened?”

“I don’t know! She was right here a minute ago and then… then poof! She was gone! I have no idea where she is!”

Bumblebee grimaced. He looked around the ruins of the room they were in, but he knew there was no point to doing so. Wherever Sari was, it was certainly not here.

This, he decided, was starting to become an annoying habit of hers.

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XV, Chapter Ten

 CHAPTER TEN

It had been many years since Counterpunch was last among his own kind.

It was surreal seeing so many familiar face, bringing back memories that he had suppressed for so long. More than a few had served alongside him during such battles as Sectus Four, Gravett Tau…

Athenia.

Counterpunch shook his head, pushing back the unwanted memories. He needed to focus on the here and now, rather than dwell on the past.

He continued to push his way through the Decepticon camp of Verenya, though at this point it might as well have earned the name “Decepticon City.” The immobile alternate mode of Trypticon dominated the once-human inhabited city, with Decepticons freely moving from one building to another. It was as if they had been living here for all their lives. Of course, that might have been the point; if Megatron was recommitted to being an evil tyrant as he appeared to be, then it was likely in his endgame to make Earth another colony for the Decepticon Empire.

After walking past a pair of Seekers, who both gave him a second glance which made him feel uneasy, Counterpunch glanced at the Autobot “prisoner” he was escorting. While Sandstorm had since regained consciousness, he was still out of it for the most part and was walking in some sort of daze, requiring Counterpunch to guide him for reasons other than to keep up the charade they were pulling. He could only hope that no one would try to stop and question them before they got to where they needed to be.

As they neared their destination — the central purple tower of Trypticon’s city form — Counterpunch spotted an entourage of heavily armed guards standing near the entrance. After taking a moment to steel himself, he proceeded to make his approach until he was brought to a halt by the lead guard.

“Stop right there,” growled the bulky blue and maroon Decepticon. Counterpunch believed his name was Quake. “What is your purpose here?”

“I caught this Autobot sneaking out on the outer perimeter,” Counterpunch replied. “He took quite the beating, but I managed to subdue him.”

Quake narrowed his optics, a scowl crossing his gold face. “What’s your ID number?”

“D-111.” At this point, he already knew it was over. “I believe we’ve met before. Weren’t you at the Battle of Dormanus Five?”

“Yeah. I remember you,” Quake grunted. “What was your name again? Puntercounch or something?”

“Counterpunch. Glad to see you’re still in the land of moving parts. Can I go in now?”

“I don’t think so.” Quake tilted his head slightly as a large cannon lowered from his back onto his shoulder. At the same time, the rest of his guards raised their own weapons. “You see, we Decepticons don’t take too kindly to being played at our own game. And when you Autobots try to pull the same trick again, after having already been caught the first time… it’s a bit insulting, to say the least.”

Counterpunch shrugged. “Fair enough. To be perfectly honest, this wasn’t so much a deception….”

In the distance, an explosion went off. It was quickly followed by angry screams and the sound of blaster fire being exchanged.

“…so much as a distraction.”

*  *  *

“I must admit,” Megatron said as he stared down at the massive Decepticon warrior kneeling before him. “I would not have expected this from someone like you, Sixshot.”

“My loyalty to you is unquestionable, Lord Megatron,” Sixshot replied, his head bowed. “Besides, I know better than to even think of turning against you, given the failsafes you have installed in soldiers like myself.”

Megatron allowed himself a smirk. “Indeed. Even so, I’m surprised Scorponok did not take that into consideration when he sent you to assassinate me.”

“In the brief interaction I had with him after he awakened me, I was given the impression that Scorponok has gotten desperate in his schemes. I’m not entirely sure what he has gotten up to in the past hundred years after he put me in stasis, but I would wager a guess that he has been largely unsuccessful in his endeavors.”

Megatron chuckled. “I agree with your assessment. To be honest, Scorponok’s machinations have been rather entertaining to a point. However, I believe he has long since outlived his usefulness to me in any capacity. Perhaps it is time to—”

The Decepticon leader was cut off by an alarm going off. As he rose from his throne, a nearby viewscreen lit up to display Soundwave’s face.

“Lord Megatron, we appear to be under attack.”

“Is it the Autobots?” Megatron asked.

“Affirmative. There appears to be seven of them. Visuals indicate that they are members of the Wreckers.”

Sixshot straightened up at this. “I encountered them on the way here. I shot down one of them into the ocean; I had thought that would have dissuaded them from pursuing me.”

“From what I know of them, very little dissuades the Wreckers from doing what they want to do,” Megatron muttered. “Even Prime has difficulty keeping a leash on them.”

“Shall I finish the job then?”

“Yes,” Megatron said without a moment’s hesitation. “Wipe them out. All of them.”

*  *  *

“Do you know if Punch and Sandstorm made it inside?”

“No idea, Kup,” Springer said as he slashed a Vehicon across the chest with his sword.

“Do you know if they‘re even still alive?”

“Again, no idea.”

Kup glared at him as he pummeled a Seeker in the face. “Then what the hell was the point of this god-forsaken plan?!”

“Sandstorm’s in no condition to fight, so I needed to get him out of harm’s way.” Springer transformed into his helicopter form and began strafing along a row of Decepticons that had just lined up to attack him. “Also Punch, because he’s not built like the rest of us and he probably would have complained about the whole situation.”

“Oh, like I’m doing now?” Kup retorted.

“From you, I’m used to it by this point.”

Kup rolled his eyes but decided to keep his focus on the situation at hand. Whirl had already gone off on a shooting spree while Topspin and Twin Twist were tag-teaming against a bunch of Combaticons. To say that the Wreckers were vastly outnumbers would have been an understatement. In fact, Springer was likely well aware of that fact and knew that the chances of them all getting out of this one alive were astronomically slim. Still, he would have felt better about it if he knew what Springer’s end goal even was.

“Well, look what the garbage-bot dragged in today!”

Kup looked over to see a tan and purple tank rolling across the battlefield. “Blitzwing,” he muttered. “I’ll be honest, I kind of expected better of you. Out of all the ‘Cons, you were one of the very few I respected. I thought for sure you would have stuck with us even after Megatron came back.”

“You don’t know me, old timer,” Blitzwing growled. “My reasons for remaining loyal to my kind are mine alone. Don’t expect me to change just make you happy.”

With that, the tank fired a round from its barrel. Kup dodged before transforming into his truck mode and accelerating towards the Decepticon. Blitzwing continued to fire even as Kup transformed again and grabbed onto the tank’s barrel, spinning himself onto the tank. He then forcibly turned the turret as it fired again, blasting away some of the other Decepticons.

“Still pulling your old tricks, I see,” Blitzwing chuckled. “I guess some things never change.”

“Save it for your memoirs, old friend,” Kup said quietly.

*  *  *

“Nemesis! We meet again!”

Killmaster regarded the blue helicopter attacking him with a look of utter disinterest. Whirl didn’t care. He wasn’t doing this for the recognition or the glory. He was doing this to tie up loose ends.

Not so long ago, he would have been going about this with a lot more of a dramatic flair, as he usually did whenever he encountered his self-proclaimed “arch-nemesis” on the battlefield. Of course, their rivalry had always been a superficial one at best; as far as he knew, Killmaster had never reciprocated in declaring him to be his arch-nemesis in turn. Indeed, Whirl had simply given him that title because, to be perfectly honest, no one else fit the bill. 

During the Wreckers’ campaign against Squadron X, the others had their arch-enemies. Impactor had Macabre, Roadbuster had Earthquake, Twin Twist had Fang… but Whirl never had any personal grudge against any of them. In his eye, they were nothing more than generic mooks that didn’t stand out from any other Decepticon. Thus, when he first encountered Killmaster during the war and lost his single optical sensor to the Warrior Elite, Whirl had latched onto that like a cyber-moth to a light. At last, he had finally found the Megatron to his Optimus Prime.

Then, ten years later, Killmaster vanished during the Battle of Luna 2, depriving Whirl of ever taking his revenge. That was basically the story of his life; any time he wanted something, it was taken away from him just like that.

His home. His business. His face. His hands. He was lucky he even still had his life. And yet, people wondered why he was “messed up in the head.”

Maybe if the universe didn’t constantly treat me like crap, I wouldn’t have turned out this way.

But now that Killmaster had somehow returned from wherever the hell he had been for the past five hundred years, Whirl could finally check off the last thing on his personal “bucket list;” something that would give him even the slightest semblance of happiness. Ever since Cyclonus had died, a void had been left in his life. This would finally give him a chance to fill that void, if only for a moment.

Whirl rammed himself into Killmaster, thought the massive Decepticon was barely pushed back an inch. He then transformed to his robot mode and performed a back flip, landing a mere few feet from the purple and gold giant as he deployed his guns.

“I hope you enjoyed your five-century-long nap, ‘cos after I’m done with you, you’ll be taking a permanent slumber!” Whirl said. “Any last words before I put you down for good?”

Killmaster stared down at him, the expression on his monstrous face unreadable. Whirl was about to interject with another quip when his nemesis finally spoke, his rough voice reverberating loudly.

“How’s your eye?”

Whirl froze up, forgetting all sense of grandeur. “Wh-what?”

“I admit, more time has passed for you than it has for me,” Killmaster went on. “Still, it’s hard to forget the way you reacted when I tore out your optical sensor. Should have known that’d be a touch subject for you.”

“You… you remember…?”

“Like I said, it’s been five hundred years for you but only ten for me. I don’t blame you if—”

“You remembered,” Whirl said quietly. “After all this time… you remembered.”

As difficult as it was to distinguish a particular emotion from Killmaster’s face, the look in his eyes was definitely one of bemusement. “Are you… surprised?”

“Dude, you’ve just made me the happiest I’ve been in my two thousand years of being online. Thank you.”

“Er… your welcome, I guess.” Killmaster raised his wand, which started to spark with energy. “I’m still going to kill you, you know.”

“Yeah. I know.” Whirl then raised his guns and opened fire.

*  *  *

“Wreckers. Why did it have to be Wreckers?”

Viral and Fearstorm watched from afar as their fellow Decepticons continued to defend their city against their Autobot attackers with varying results. Despite being vastly outnumbered, the Wreckers were making a pretty decent stand against their foes; Viral was almost surprised that they had even lasted this long. He knew they wouldn’t last forever, though.

“What are we waiting for?” Fearstorm asked, already drawing his gun. “Shouldn’t we join in?”

Viral raised a hand to stall his companion but said nothing. Mere moments later, a massive green and purple tank emerged from the central tower of the city, rolling quickly onto the battlefield.

“Is that… Sixshot?” Fearstorm exclaimed.

“Seems like everyone’s been returning from the dead lately,” Viral wryly remarked.

The pair watched as Sixshot approached the Wreckers, firing his guns. The two Jumpstarters were instantly blasted away while Springer managed to avoid the tank’s rounds. The leader of the Wreckers then advanced towards Sixshot in his helicopter form, firing away, just as the Six Changer converted into his mechanical beast form. The robotic wolf proceeded to leap at Springer, colliding with the helicopter and sending them both crashing back down to the ground.

“They’re dead,” Fearstorm murmured. “They are so dead. Sixshot is going to slaughter them.”

Viral glanced at him. “You sound scared.”

“Of course not!” Fearstorm snapped. “I’m simply… mesmerized. You’ve heard the stories, haven’t you? The Wreckers have been a thorn in our side for millennia, since the First War! And now… now they’re going to finally meet their end.”

Viral found it difficult to argue with that. Already Sixshot was pummeling Springer into the ground, giving the green-and-yellow Autobot hardly any opportunity to fight back. The two Jumpstarters were still down for the count, with the Combaticons Brawl and Vortex standing over them. Kup had just been knocked off of Blitzwing by a teleporting Skywarp and was now surrounded by a variety of Seekers. The one known as Whirl was currently in a struggle with Killmaster, one which he was likely to desperately fail in if Killmaster was as invincible as his reputation suggested he was. There was no sign of the last two Autobots that were reported to be among the seven Wreckers, but Viral doubted they were faring any better than the other five.

This was truly it. This was the last stand of the Wreckers.

And he couldn’t stand to watch it.

Without a second thought, without even a single word of farewell to Fearstorm, Viral activated his transwarp drive and teleported away. The sight of what was about to become the Wreckers’ inevitable demise vanished from view and was instantly replaced by the dark interior of Megatron’s throne room. After adjusting his optical sensors to the lack of lighting, Viral turned around to see the only other functioning Cybertronian in the room with him.

“You,” said the disembodied head of Shockwave.

“Where is Lord Megatron?” Viral asked.

“Observing the battle outside,” Shockwave replied. “Why are you here? To mock my current physical state, perhaps?”

“Under vastly different circumstances, perhaps I would,” Viral said. “As it stands however, I am here only to settle things between us once and for all.”

“You’re here to kill me, then?”

“No. I’m here for answers.”

Shockwave’s single optic stared up at him, unblinking. “Of course you are. That is all anyone seeks from me these days.”

“Perhaps if you did not act the way you do, you would not leave behind such burgeoning questions in your wake,” Viral dryly remarked. “In any case, my question is a simple one.”

“Out with it, then. Megatron may return at any moment.”

“You’ve told the Autobots about the Regenesis ores,” Viral began. “Are there any more secrets that you’ve been keeping from everyone, or has everything been aired out?”

“If I answer no,” Shockwave said, “and you do not believe me, how will you go about getting the truth from me? There is nothing of value that you could possibly offer me in exchange for any secrets I may be keeping.”

“Not even restoring you to your body?” Viral asked.

This got a reaction from the bodiless Decepticon as Shockwave’s single optic flashed briefly. “You would not do that. Given your grudge towards me, it would be illogical for you to do anything that would benefit me.”

“Not your Decepticon body,” Viral said. “Your old body. When you were a member of the High Council. Before Megatron put your spark in Shockblast’s body.”

Again, Shockwave went quiet at that. “You are… aware of that?”

“My brief stint as ‘the Necrobot’ gave me some insight into people’s backstories, including yours. In fact, I still have the transwarp drive I used to rescue some others on the original Necrobot’s list of the Disappeared. I could rewind the clock and set things back to how they used to be.”

“Impossible,” Shockwave said firmly. “You cannot change the past. That is what I learned from the Sigma Project and all other experiments with time travel. The most you can do is to simply ensure events that have already happened happen, but you cannot prevent them from happening.”

“What about the future then? I would imagine I could have some effect on the future, or else you never would have sent me and Windtrail on our mission.”

“Perhaps,” Shockwave admitted. “I imagine you could influence events enough to make a particular future inevitable. But the point is moot. I have since come to the conclusion that the invention of transwarp technology, and by extension its use to travel through time, was a mistake. The fabric of time and space is not something to be played with.”

“You speak as if from experience,” Viral said. “Have you yourself done something with transwarp technology that has brought you to this conclusion?”

“Irrelevant. What is done is done. If you value stability for the universe, I suggest you rid yourself of your transwarp drive for good.”

Viral laughed. “As if you’re in any position to stop me anymore. Besides, if you cared for the stability of the universe, you wouldn’t be keeping the secrets that you carry.”

“Believe what you will,” Shockwave said. “It means nothing to me.”

“That’s it, then? No vague allusions? No cryptic warnings? No parting words of wisdom from my old teacher?”

“I have nothing left to impart onto you.”

“Then I suppose this is goodbye.” Viral raised his arm, straightening and flattening it to form a blade-like appendage. “Thank you, Shockwave, in spite of everything. I will remember you as you were.”

He then brought the blade down and Shockwave departed from the material world without a single word. After he had pulled his blade out of his former mentor’s disembodied cranium and wiped it clean of energon, Viral turned away from the gruesome results and activated his transwarp drive once more, vanishing out of the room as quickly as he had arrived.

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XV, Chapter Nine

EDITED 5/23/2021 Changed the end of the last scene to not make the story even more convoluted as it is....

CHAPTER NINE

“This is why I hate machines.”

It was all Captain Fanzone could say to himself to make sense of the chaos unfolding before his very own eyes. When he had gotten a call to Sumdac Tower (or Onyx Tower or whatever it was now), he had a feeling in his gut that it would have something to do with robots; it wouldn’t have been the first time Isaac Sumdac’s inventions had gotten out of hand, at least in Fanzone’s many years in the force. However, as soon as he and his boys got to the scene of the crime, he could already tell that these weren’t Sumdac’s usual inventions.

The first thing that tipped him off was the giant gorilla wrestling with a velociraptor. At first he thought that this was all the result of a breakout at the zoo as well as the attractions at the local amusement park going haywire. But then the gorilla deployed a pair of guns from its wrist and fired them into the raptor’s face, eliciting an angered shriek before it fired laser beams from its eyes, scaring off the gorilla.

As if that wasn’t enough, not that far away a rhinoceros was charging through a horde of giant bugs, among them a fire ant that changed shape into a humanoid robot and drew a pair of blasters, unloading them on the horned beast. Then there was the giant rat having it out with a scorpion with a cobra for a tail… and then there were the giant spiders.

It was all too much for Fanzone to handle. He felt like he was having a fever dream.

“Sir?” One of his officers shook him by the shoulder, rousing him from his stupor. “What are your orders?”

Shaking his head to clear his addled mind, Fanzone said, “Just do what you can to keep citizens out of harm’s way. Don’t provoke any of these… things unless told to.”

“Are we just going to let them fight?”

“For now,” Fanzone muttered. “At least until I call in the big guns….”

*  *  *

“You still don’t understand, do you?”

The only thing Sari knew she understood was to avoid the fire-breathing dragon at all costs. As she hurled two orbs of energy at the raging Onyx Prime, she flew over to Verity and moved the unarmored girl out of the way as the dragon unleashed a column of flames in their direction. While Kicker proceeded to strike at Onyx with his blade, Sari escorted Verity back out into her father’s office before closing the entrance and returning to the fight.

“In my age, there were dozens of Primes,” Onyx went on, swinging a tail at Kicker to knock him aside. “After the Quintessons were driven off Cybertron, many of us were eager to assert dominance over our own planet. We claimed the name ‘Prime’ as a title; it had been a designation used by the Quintessons to distinguish the best of the best from each ‘production line,’ though most people simply associated it with Primus to give it some semblance of divine meaning. Before long, you had Primes ruling over every corner of the planet.”

Unsheathing her arm blades, Sari lunged at the dragon and delivered a quick series of slashes to its face. A low growl rumbled from its throat as it snapped at her and she barely moved out of the way in time before she could be consumed by its mighty jaws.

“But that’s the problem with power. When you divide it between so many people, it’s only a matter of time before it gets to their heads and they start hungering for more. Before anyone knew it, fifty Primes had become twenty-six and twenty-six was soon whittled down to just thirteen.”

He unleashed another blast of fire from his maw, spreading all around the room. While Sari and Kicker managed to avoid it, the vats and machinery that occupied the room were not so lucky and were quickly beginning to melt. The Underbase remained unscathed however, continuing to light the room with its golden glow.

“I only claimed the title for myself out of necessity. To protect my own kind from those who would oppress them. In a perfect world, I would have spent all of my years as lonely shepherd, helping those in need of guidance. But we don’t live in a perfect world. We never have.”

“You realize that still makes you part of the problem you’re trying to solve, right?” Kicker said as he went in for another slash with his blade. “By calling yourself a Prime and everything.”

Onyx chuckled. “I am aware of that. It changes nothing.”

“So what happens when your plan doesn’t work out?” asked Sari. “If people don’t turn against Optimus Prime or Rodimus Prime like you think they will, what then?”

The dragon shrugged. “Then I’ll kill them. And anyone else who claims the title of Prime.”

“Then, what, you’ll kill yourself? Or are you thinking about getting a name change?”

“By the time I’m done, my name will be irrelevant. Only when the universe is rid of all Primes will I be able to rest and return to my simple life as ‘Onyx the Shepherd.’ But until then, I will proudly carry the title until it is properly done justice once and for all.”

“Oh. I get it now,” Kicker said. “You’re just a maniac. Gotcha.”

“Question my sanity, will you?” Onyx growled. “Then you may join your precious Primes in the AllSpark!”

Just as the dragon opened its mouth to release another breath of flame, Kicker dove in and drove his sword straight into the beast’s maw, striking something within. Onyx started making gagging sounds as Kicker drove his blade deeper and deeper. Suddenly, a small explosion erupted from the dragon’s mouth and Kicker was sent flying back, crashing into a wall. His sword clattered to the floor while sparks sputtered out from the dragon’s mouth.

“Im— impressive.” Metal clanged together as the dragon changed shape, taking on the form of a winged bipedal robot. “Perhaps I’ve underestimated you two. I’m sure you would have made excellent warriors under my command. It’s a shame I have to destroy you both.”

“Shame this,” Sari said as she flung two orbs of energy from her hands. They simultaneously struck Onyx Prime in the face, which was enough to push the ancient Transformer a step back. Not giving him a second to recover, she lunged and attacked him with her arm blades, slashing at his face in a flurry of motion. Onyx growled in irritation and moved to grab her only for her to move out of his reach.

“Your efforts are futile,” Onyx Prime rumbled. “Techno-organic or not, you are nonetheless susceptible to the same vulnerabilities as any other human. Sooner or later, you will become too tired to continue attack me and thus be left at my mercy.”

“He’s right,” Kicker said weakly from where he laid. “We can’t keep at this forever. Something has to give.”

“Well, we can’t give up now!” Sari protested. “There’s no way I’m backing down and letting him do whatever it is he plans to do.”

“You won’t have to.” Pulling himself up, Kicker retrieved his sword before levitating up into the air. “Besides… he can’t carry out his plans with the Underbase… if he doesn’t have an Underbase to work with.”

“What do you think you’re—” Onyx Prime’s eyes narrowed before widening in realization. “No. You wouldn’t. You don’t know what effect that would have!”

“I think have a pretty good idea,” Kicker said, turning to face the Underbase. “And it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

“Kicker?” Sari said quietly. “What are you doing?”

“It’s been nice getting to know you, Sari,” Kicker replied as he raised his sword. “I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

“Wait, don’t—”

“NO!” Onyx Prime lunged forward, but it was too late. Kicker had already stabbed the Underbase with his blade and the entire world went white.

*  *  *

“Give up, Maximal!” Terrorsaur squawked as he clawed at Cheetor’s face with his talons. “We outnumber you! There is no hope for—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before,” Cheetor snapped as he threw a fist into the red pteranodon’s face, knocking the Predacon to the ground. “We’ve dealt with you guys before and we’ll do it again ten times if we have to!”

“Don’t be so sure!” Terrorsaur cackled. “Our glorious leader has something up his servo. I have no idea what it is, but I’m sure it’s going to be stupendous!”

“That’s heartening to know,” Cheetor muttered before throwing another punch at Terrorsaur, leaving the pteranodon laying on the ground in a disoriented state. Turning away from the Predacon, Cheetor could not help but grimace as he beheld the scene around them. Indeed, the Predacons vastly outnumbered the Maximals and Autobots, with many of his comrades being forced to take on two or even three Preds at the same time. If this kept up, they were going to need reinforcements; otherwise, he had no idea how long they were going to last.

“Big Bot!” he called out to Primal, who had managed to subdue Dinobot for the time being. “Any chance we could call Elita for some backup?”

“Already tried that, Cheetor,” Primal replied. “I think the Predacons are scrambling communications.”

“Well, the way I see it, I don’t think we’re gonna last long against these guys,” Cheetor said, drawing his gun and firing on an earwig Predacon that had been trying to sneak up on him. “Dumb or not, they’ve still got the edge in numbers.”

“I wouldn’t give up just yet, Cheetor,” Primal said. “Not until we—”

He was abruptly cut off by an explosion of energy erupting from the nearby Sumdac Tower. The ground shook violently, causing the battle between Maximals and Predacons to come to a halt as yellow energy flashed all around them. Raising a hand to shield his optics from the flash, Cheetor was able to make out a giant winged figure emerging from the tower, their dark silhouette highlighted by the crackling energy surrounding them.

A sinking feeling gripped Cheetor’s spark. As difficult as it was to make out the figure’s details, it did not take long for him to associate a name with its appearance. Even then, he could barely bring himself to so much as whisper it.

“Onyx Prime….”

*  *  *

Everything was proceeding exactly as he had foreseen.

The Predacon who now called himself Megatron watched as things continued to unfold below the Darksyde. Onyx Prime had just made his appearance, bringing the battle to a standstill. The Underbase had seemingly been destroyed, though its residual energies continued to crackle like lightning in a storm. The window of opportunity for the next part of his plan was quickly narrowing, but Megatron was confident that it would go just as smoothly as everything else had.

Besides, the Talisman had already showed him just how things were going to go. When he and Steel Jaw had interacted with the ancient device during their scuffle, it had flung him into a dimension that laid beyond space and time. All of his history was laid out before him like an intricate tapestry, allowing him to see every event in great detail and even how they were intimately connected with other events. It had allowed him to witness everything that had happened leading up to his creation… as well as everything that would happen upon his return.

That was how he came to realize who he was meant to be; the name that was rightfully his. He had seen his future, his destiny, and he was going to do everything he could to bring it to fruition.

This was just the beginning, of course. There was still much, much more that needed to be done.

While the Predacons and Maximals below gawked at Onyx Prime’s arrival, Megatron directed his attention to the communications unit. Moments earlier, it had intercepted a message transmitted from one of the Maximals to their giant Autobot base in the sky and blocked it from reaching its destination. Now that the right moment had finally arrived, Megatron pressed a switch to allow the message to finally transmit to its intended receiver.

With no one else present on the Darksyde’s bridge, Megatron allowed himself to laugh, loudly and proudly. It felt so good to be in control of what would become a historical event like this. He could get used to this.

And he knew he would.

*  *  *

“Sari? Sari! Are you okay?”

Sari coughed as she burst out of the rubble that had once been the Project: Cadmus facility. Her entire body ached while dust and soot covered her armor plating, getting into the vents of her facemask which caused her to inhale them. As the dust settled, she could make out a concerned Verity trying to dig her out, using all of her might to move the piece of rubble that was currently pinning Sari’s legs.

“Hang on,” Sari coughed. “I’ve got it.” She unsheathed one of her arm blades and, once Verity had moved out of the way, brought it down on the slab of concrete. The blade neatly sliced it in half and released her legs. Verity then helped her to her feet, though it took her a moment to find her balance.

“It’s a miracle that you managed to survive all that,” Verity remarked. “Looks like your friend wasn’t so lucky.”

Sari couldn’t bring herself to look in the direction where Kicker and the Underbase had been, not wanting to see the grim results of his sacrifice. “Is Onyx Prime still here?” she asked quietly. “The big dragon robot?”

“Yeah, he’s right behind you,” Verity muttered. “He hasn’t done or said anything yet. His back’s turned to us, so it should be safe for you to look.”

Taking a deep breath (which simply triggered another coughing fit), Sari turned around and looked up at Onyx Prime. The ancient Prime stood there with his wings spread wide, the residual energies of the Underbase flashing around him. The explosion had blown a wide enough hole in the tower that gave her a good look at what was happening outside. The Maximals and Predacons — good and bad beast Transformers from what she had been told — appeared to be in the middle of a battle along with her three Autobot companions. A claw-shaped starship hovered in the sky above, watching over everything like a vast, predatory bird.

Time seemed to have crawled to a standstill. No one was moving or doing anything; the combatants below were frozen in shock staring at Onyx Prime and Onyx Prime himself was immobile. The crackling energy seemed to be the only thing that was actually moving.

Frowning to herself, Sari turned to Verity and was about to say something… only to realize that the other woman had also frozen in place. It was as if someone had just pressed the pause button on a movie. Before Sari could wrap her mind over what was happening, she felt a shadow fall over her. Swallowing hard, she slowly turned around to look up at the large robot standing over her. From the black and purple armor plating and the spider-like appendages hanging off his back, Sari immediately recognized him as one of the Predacons she had encountered back in Verenya.

“So this is it, then,” she exhaled. “This is how I die.”

Tarantulas cackled in response. “Now that, little one, is dependent entirely on whether or not you do exactly as I say.”

Star Wars: Vergence I, Chapter Nine

 CHAPTER NINE

“There we go. I knew we could come to a cordial arrangement.”

Sal Tyrius smiled as he poured himself a glass of Corellian ale. Standing across from him, on opposite sides of the room, was his unique assortment of guests: to his left was Poe Dameron and his team, now joined by their three Jedi allies, while to the right stood Kylo Ren and his S’kytri apprentice. Thrackan Sal-Solo hung back near the window and barely heeded any attention at all to the meeting, likely still shaken by the earlier sight of the Millennium Falcon. The tense silence between the two groups was palpable, but it did little to dissuade Tyrius from moving things forward.

After taking a sip from his glass, he put it aside and picked up the cube-shaped device that Kylo Ren had delivered. He held it up to the light, admiring how it reflected in the cube’s emerald surface.

“Yes, undeniably the handiwork of Hafoo R’ruu. His datacrons always had a unique style to them that not even the best counterfeit artists in the galaxy have been able to replicate. For a Caamasi, he understood Corellian culture very well, though perhaps he owed that to his close friendship with King Berethron—”

“I don’t have time for this,” Kylo Ren growled. “I gave you your precious heirloom; now tell me what business you have here on Corellia.”

Tyrius sighed. “Ah, yes. The Supreme Leader warned me of your… impatience.”

“’Supreme Leader?’” Poe’s eyes narrowed as they focused on Kylo. “What’s going on here? Who exactly do you guys work for?”

Ignoring him, Kylo stepped closer to Tyrius, though the Arkanian was unfazed. “Give me answers, before I force them out of you.”

The Curator lazily lifted up his white eyes as the Knight of Ren. “Are you sure you want to know those answers, Ren? From what I’ve been told about you, you do not like to acknowledge your history — or, more specifically, your family’s history.”

At this, Kylo Ren tensed. Looks of confusion crossed the faces of everyone else in the room; even Thrackan had perked up at this and was now looking in Kylo’s direction.

Knowing he had struck a nerve, Tyrius began to smirk. “You know, this very room you’re standing in has a history,” he went on. “Many, many years ago, this star yacht — known by the name of the First Light — was owned by the crime lord Dryden Vos, leader of the Crimson Dawn syndicate. It was a rather powerful criminal organization during the reign of the Empire, close to rivaling that of Black Sun or even the Hutts. Were it not for Vos’ untimely death, perhaps it would still be in power today.”

“I’ve heard of them,” Poe muttered. “I mostly know of them through a holofilm I saw when I was younger. Han Solo and the Pirates of Kessel, I believe it was called.”

Tyrius let out a sharp laugh. “Ah, holofilms. Those who produce such things know how to filter the truth through a lens that makes it more easily digestible for the less knowledgeable.”

“Are you saying there’s some truth to it? Did Solo have a hand in bringing down Crimson Dawn?”

“You would have to ask him yourself,” Tyrius replied. “And, unless I am mistaken, I believe he is already on his way here.”

There was a snap-hiss as an unstable lightsaber blade appeared in Kylo Ren’s hand, which he then pointed at the Arkanian’s neck. In response, the three Jedi activated their own blades, readying themselves to intervene.

“Under no circumstances shall Han Solo enter this room,” Kylo Ren said coldly. “If you value your life, then you shall do as I command.”

Tyrius smirked. “Life has a different value to Arkanians than it does for other sentients. Threatening to kill me will not have the effect on me that you desire.”

“The datacron, then. I will destroy it and you will be unable to use it for whatever purposes you had in mind for it.”

This got a reaction from Tyrius, as much as he wanted to hide it. The thought of any artifact with historic value being destroyed always shook him to the core. To have all that knowledge, all that information being wiped out was something he dreaded more than anything else. Yes, such data was usually replicated in history books and other such documents… but those were second-hand accounts and had nowhere near the value of the original source from which such information was derived. Indeed, the loss of the datacron would be — from the perspective of an Arkanian such as himself — worse than death itself.

Clearing his throat, Tyrius started to say, “Perhaps we could reach some sort of—”

He was cut off by another beep coming from his desk. It proceeded to beep several times for a good minute as Thrackan slowly glided his way over to his desk, still caught in the daze that he had found himself stuck in.

“What is it?” he murmured as he pressed the comm button.

“Sir, we have another disturbance in the lobby,” responded the voice of Lunara. “The Knights of Ren are exchanging fire with five humans and a Wookiee.”

“Is one of them Han Solo?” Thrackan asked.

“I can’t tell. There’s too much in the— wait. Yes. Yes, I see him. I recognize his jacket.”

“Tell them all to hold their fire. I will be down there shortly.”

Tyrius’s pearl white eyes widened in surprise while Kylo Ren visibly tensed with anger. Even Lunara sounded confused as she said, “Er, I would not recommend that, sir. They… they really want to be allowed in, it seems.”

“Yes, because we’re holding their friends hostage.” In Tyrius’ opinion, the calmness and gentleness in Thrackan’s voice was intriguing to say the least. “I will bring them with me to meet with Solo and his companions, as one of my guests is not keen on being in the same room as him.”

“Very well, sir. I will do my best to diffuse the situation to make way for your arrival.”

“Excellent. Thank you.” Ending the call, Thrackan returned his attention to Tyrius and the others, straightening the lapels of his robes. Kylo stared back at him and, after a moment, switched off his lightsaber and stepped away from the Curator.

“I will call off my Knights,” Kylo said, though he sounded wary of whatever Thrackan was trying to pull off. “See to it that Han Solo is removed from these premises.”

“Of course,” Thrackan replied, a smirk twitching on his lips. “I’m sure my cousin will be none too pleased to see me anyway.”

*  *  *

“Wait! They’ve stopped shooting!”

Wedge had just been about to squeeze another shot from his blaster when he heard Jesmin. Drawing back, he dared to peek around the corner of the doorway he was hiding behind into the lobby room. Indeed, the masked warriors they had been exchanging blaster fire with had ceased in their attacks, though their weapons were still drawn and raised. Behind them was an Arkanian woman with a cybernetic eye, holding a comlink in one hand while she raised the other in a placating gesture, stepping out from her own hiding spot and into Wedge’s line of sight.

“The President has agreed to meet with our visitors,” she said. “Please stand by and await his arrival.”

Wedge glanced at Han Solo, who stood behind the other corner of the doorway. The ex-smuggler gave him a look that suggested he was as wary of this temporary truce as Wedge was. Slowly however, he holstered his DL-44 blaster pistol and carefully stepped out of his hiding spot and into clear view of the Arkanian and their masked assailants, with Wedge shortly following suit. Some of the warriors seemed to move with a start, as if startled by Han Solo’s appearance, but otherwise said nothing. The Arkanian woman stared at Solo for a moment before smirking.

“If it isn’t the man himself,” she said. “Welcome home, Han Solo.”

“Cut the pleasantries,” Han grunted. “Where’s Thrackan?”

“As I said, the President is on his way. I strongly suggest you all exercise patience and restraint until he arrives.”

With that, the Arkanian turned around and made a swift departure from the room. The masked warriors that they had just been fighting remained where they were, though they at least lowered their weapons (not that it made Wedge feel any better).

The next several minutes passed with tense silence, until finally footsteps could be heard coming from the direction the Arkanian woman had just went. Han braced himself as an older man with white hair, wearing blue and crimson formal robes, entered the lobby. Upon seeing Han, the man visibly tensed as his eyes narrowed and his lips formed a thin line.

“Han Solo,” the man said, spitting the name out like a curse.

“Thrackan,” Han responded in kind. “How’s life been treating you?”

“Favorably. Though I suppose I don’t deserve it, given my past actions.”

“So long as you're man enough to admit it,” Han muttered. He let those words hang in the air as the tense silence took reign once more. Thrackan started to shift uncomfortably and cleared his throat to keep the conversation moving.

“I suppose you’re here for your friends,” he said. “The Jedi and the others.”

Han raised eyebrow. “Oh, are they here? I hadn’t even realized. I just thought I would drop by to see how my cousin was doing.”

“Don’t toy with me, Solo!” Thrackan snapped. “I have better things to do then play games! I will release your friends, but only on one condition.”

Han shuffled his feet, keeping a hand on his holstered DL-44. “Not sure you’re in any position to call for any conditions.”

“I am Corellia’s legitimate head of state,” Thrackan said pointedly. “You’re an ex-smuggler and glorified war hero. I am confident that I have the most power in this negotiation.”

“Always so stuffy. See, this is why we don’t invite you to family reunions.”

Thrackan let out a sharp, mirthless laugh. “As if you would ever save a seat for me at the dinner table. Now then, once I release your friends, you will leave Corellia and never, ever return.”

Han raised an eyebrow. “That’s your condition?”

His cousin nodded. “Your face will never be welcomed on this planet ever again. If that ship of yours so much as parts the clouds, you will be destroyed on sight. Do I make myself clear?”

“Do you even have that kind of power?” asked Wedge. “I don’t know how the Senate would take something like that.”

Thrackan sneered at him. “The Senate has no say in this. Not anymore. With the help of my new allies, I will be able to lead Corellia into a brighter future that is free of the Galactic Alliance and their squabbling politics. I shall claim my birthright and reform the once-glorious Corellian Empire!”

“Uh-huh,” Han said. “And just who are these ‘new allies’ of yours?”

Thrackan opened his mouth to answer him only to stop himself. His brown eyes started to widen, as if realizing that he had let on too much. “That’s… that’s none of your business,” he sputtered hastily.

“Oh, I think it’s plenty of our business,” said Wedge. “Perhaps you would like to introduce us to them?”

Thrackan’s eyes began to dart, looking in any direction but Wedge and Han’s. He then looked over to the masked warriors and opened his mouth as if to say something only to stop when the floor beneath their feet began to vibrate. Suddenly, the door behind Wedge and Han whizzed shut, cutting them off from Chewbacca, Jagged, Jesmin, and Trey outside. Without missing a beat, Han drew his blaster and pointed it at Thrackan while the masked warriors raised their own weapons.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Han snarled.

“I’m not doing anything!” Thrackan protested. “I… I don’t know what’s happening!”

One of the masked warriors, wielding a scythe, raised a hand to their helmet. “This is Vicrul. Is everything all right up there?”

Wedge could not hear the response, if there even had been one at all. Without saying anything, Vicrul turned to his comrades and made a sharp gesture before departing from the lobby, with the other masked men trailing close behind. Han let them go, keeping his blaster trained on Thrackan.

“I think now might be a good time to start talking,” the former smuggler said darkly. 

Thrackan stared back at him, his eyes betraying no emotion. After a moment, he straightened his posture and lifted his chin in a confident manner, though Wedge could see the tell-tale glint of fear in his cold brown eyes.

“Very well,” he said hoarsely. “Let us talk.”

*  *  *

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

Sal Tyrius appeared to be unperturbed by Kylo Ren’s outburst, though it was clear from his expression that the First Light suddenly rising from its anchored spot had not been something he had foreseen. Valrisa watched as he glided over to the main office desk and switched on its built-in comm unit.

“Lunara,” he said calmly, “why is the building rising towards the sky?”

“Unfortunately, I am not as all-knowing as you like to think I am,” the Arkanian woman sharply responded. “I am locked out of the control room and the control panel is not accepting any of my security codes.”

“Oh, dear,” Tyrius said, thought it was difficult to tell whether the fear indicated in his tone was genuine. “It would appear that the yacht has gotten a mind of its own. I wonder how that could be.”

“Do you know something we don’t?” Poe asked.

Before Tyrius could answer, the light from the comm unit started flashing and a beeping sound accompanied it. The Curator pressed a button and the lights in the room started to dim again. A nearby holoprojector whirred to life and a life-sized holographic image materialized in the center of the room.

The virtual figure standing in the room, female judging by their body shape, had an ornate appearance. Silver armor was worn over a form-fitting blue bodysuit with intricate gold detailing. Dark violet gloves with gold linings covered their hands while a similarly tailored cloak flowed behind their back. A fearsome silvery mask, with narrowed eye slits that seemed to have a red tint, covered the woman’s face as they leaned on an ornate cane that was likely more for show than to serve any purposes for support and mobility. Judging by the holstered blaster attached to a brown bandolier that stretched across their chest, the masked woman was no stranger to combat.

“Sal Tyrius,” the woman spoke, her voice modulated by her mask in a fashion similar to Kylo Ren. “Just the man I was looking for.”

“Queen Kestora.” The Curator bowed his head in respect. “I must admit, I was not expecting to be graced by your presence.”

“Of course you weren’t,” Queen Kestora hissed. “You were so confident in your own craftiness that you thought you could get away from me and never be found. I will give you credit, I am surprised that word of a giant Kalevalan star yacht serving as the capitol building for Corellia hadn’t spread sooner.”

“Oh, you can think Thrackan Sal-Solo for that,” Tyrius replied. “He was very efficient in making sure none of his people questioned its presence or even spoke a word of it.”

“Not efficient enough, it would seem. Anyways, as you’ve probably noticed, I have taken remote control of your little pleasure home. For all you boast about being a genius when it comes to genetic engineering, you Arkanians aren’t as good when it comes to starship computers.”

“I was afraid that our overriding of the security codes would not be sufficient,” the Curator said. “Alas, it would appear I have been outsmarted.”

“Indeed. How sad,” Kestora said dryly. “Now then, I will be taking back my yacht. Prepare to be boarded once you’ve cleared the atmosphere.”

With that, the hologram faded away and the holoprojector went dark. As the lights came back on, Poe immediately stormed over to Tyrius.

“Who was that?” he asked. “What’s going on here?”

“I said her name, didn’t I?” Tyrius replied. “She is Queen Kestora.”

“Right. Yeah, I got that. Except I have no idea who the hell she is.”

“I suppose word of her reputation hasn’t quite made it outside of the Outer Rim. She is the self-proclaimed Pirate Queen of the Veiled Sorority.”

“All right, them I’ve heard of,” Poe said. “They’re a pretty secretive bunch from what I’ve heard. Are they associated with the Cabal?”

“Only in the loosest sense of the term. They greatly prefer to do things by their own book and the Cabal only tolerates their operations so long as they don’t interfere with their own.”

“And… you stole her yacht from her?” Valrisa asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It wasn’t as if she was using it!” Tyrius said defensively. “It had been harbored on Dubrillion for a good year or so and hardly any of her people were around to guard it. My men and I only had to get rid of six guards, so she clearly didn’t care that much about it. Besides, it’s not like she appreciates its historic value as much as I do. The First Light was the capital ship of the Crimson Dawn, for stars’ sake! It deserves greater respect than what she’s shown towards it.”

“Is that what this is all about?” asked Kyla Kishanti. “Are you only on Corellia for its historic value?”

“Well, that and the fact that the Cabal wants to establish a presence on the Corellian Run. It’s more for its strategic value than anything, really.”

“Interesting,” Poe said, refraining from grinning. Neither he nor anyone else knew why Tyrius was talking so much, but he certainly didn’t want the Arkanian to stop. “And what interest does the Cabal have in the Corellian Run?”

Tyrius seemed as if he was about to answer but the opportunity was ruined when Kylo Ren suddenly turned on his lightsaber and swung it at the main window. It instantly shattered and a powerful gust of wind blasted into the room, threatening to suck everyone out as the First Light ascended higher and higher into the sky. While Valrisa and the others desperately tried to grab onto something to keep from being pulled out, Kylo’s S’kytri companion grabbed onto him as she spread her massive green wings and flew out of the room. Mere seconds after they had gone through the newly made exit, Tyrius slammed his fist on the desk’s control panel and a durasteel wall slammed down to fill in the space once occupied by the window.

While everyone else struggled to get back up and catch their breaths, Tyrius seemed more put out than anything as an unpleasant scowl crossed his face.

“How rude,” he said. “He even took the datacron with him. I was really looking forward to adding it to my collection.” 

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XV, Chapter Eight

    EDITED 6/29/2026 Changed Batman reference to a James Bond reference

 CHAPTER EIGHT

“Here we are.”

Kicker opened the door to what had once been Isaac Sumdac’s office at Sumdac Tower. To Sari’s surprise and relief, not much seemed to have change since Onyx’s takeover. The portrait of her great-grandfather still hung on the wall over the fireplace; the drawings she had made for her father when she was little were still pinned to the side of a bookshelf holding his small library of business books; even all his papers and supplies were still neatly organized on his desk as always. Apparently, the Titan Masters had not bothered to touch the room at all during their stay here.

As the three of them entered the office, Kicker walked over to where the portrait hung and pulled it down, uncovering a small level built into the wall. He pulled it and the bookshelf suddenly moved, slowly sliding aside to reveal a secret entrance.

“Okay,” Verity muttered, “this is some Bond-level crap right there.”

Kicker said nothing as he walked towards the entrance and flipped another switch, flicking on a light which illuminated the next room beyond. He proceeded to walk in, with Sari and Verity following him close behind. Without a second thought, Sari armored herself up and braced herself for whatever dangers were waiting for them ahead.

The first thing she noticed was a yellow glow coming from deep within the dark room. Kicker flipped a few more switches to provide more light, giving them all a better look at what was inside. The room was very much a typical laboratory, with all sorts of machinery and equipment scattered about the room along with empty vats that were large enough to fit a person. None of those things were what drew Sari’s attention first however. Rather, it was the giant, cube-shaped mass of circuitry and machinery situated at the back of the room, radiating a bright, yellow glow.

“What… is that thing?” Sari asked.

“I’m not sure,” Kicker said quietly. The uneasiness in his tone made Sari feel that he was not lying about that. “I don’t remember ever seeing it before.”

“That’s because it is a recent addition.” The booming voice caused all three humans to jump, with Kicker deploying his own armor and drawing his energy sword. The voice seemed to come from all around them, leaving Sari and Kicker to turn in all directions in an attempt to find its source. “The Titan Masters installed it here during their temporary stay here. Fortunately, neither they did not take it with them when they decided it would be a good idea to betray me.”

“Who are you?” Kicker demanded. “What are you doing here?”

“I can direct those same questions towards you. But since you asked first… my name is Onyx Prime. I am here because of the very thing you are standing in front of. It is called the Underbase.”

“Onyx Prime,” Sari whispered. “So, you’re the one behind the Onyx company.”

“Indirectly, yes. My former herald Sovereign created it as a venue to carry out my plans, though I left the minute details to him. I must admit, his imagination towards creating names leaves… much to be desired.”

“So, what exactly was your endgame with all of that?” asked Verity. “With the ‘Onyx Interface’ and all that crap.”

“The Onyx Interface was merely a placeholder for the Underbase,” Onyx Prime replied. “The endgame was to use the Underbase’s vast knowledge bank to expose the true history of the Primes to both the Autobots and their human allies, thus turning them against one another, causing the Cybertron Alliance to collapse in on itself, and ultimately bringing an end to the Primes and their legacy.”

“But… you just called yourself a Prime,” Sari pointed out. “Why would you want to end your own legacy?”

Onyx Prime chuckled. “Ah, how perceptive. You see, young one, it is the fact that I am a Prime that allows me to realize just how tainted and corrupted our legacy is.”

“Tainted and corrupted in what way?” Sari asked. “From what I’ve seen, the current Primes — Optimus and Rodimus — are honoring your legacy just fine.”

“Oh, you poor, naive child,” the omnipresent voice admonished. “You only think that because that’s what your Autobot friends have brainwashed you to think. No, those who currently call themselves Primes are symptomatic of the larger issue at hand. They use the title to distinguish themselves from their supposed comrades; to put themselves on a pedestal above all others. Not even the Decepticons do that! You don’t see Megatron calling himself a Prime, do you?”

“No, but you also don’t see guys like Optimus Prime trying to conquer planets,” retorted Verity. “He and the other guy use their name for good. Megatron uses his for evil.”

“As if a mere human like you could fully grasp the philosophy of concepts such as ‘good’ or ‘evil.’ Don’t pretend to understand things that are beyond your comprehension.”

“Enough of this,” said Kicker. “Whatever it is you’re planning, it’s nothing we want any part in nor is it something we can allow. Are you going to show yourself and fight us like a real bot?”

Onyx Prime chuckled darkly. “You presume you are strong enough to face someone like me?”

“Between Sari and me? Yeah, I think we are.”

“Then so be it.”

Sari heard the clanging of metal followed by what sounded like a furnace burning. Before she knew it, the whole room was being lit aflame.

*  *  *

Alice had stopped her infernal shrieking. Bumblebee thought he should have thought pleased about this, yet somehow he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. He looked at the cage containing her, still being held by Bulkhead, and saw that she had gotten into a fetal position, her blue eyes wide with terror.

“Is, uh, is something wrong with her?” he asked, though he didn’t expect either Bulkhead or Arcee to have the answers.

The other two Autobots looked at the blond techno-organic, who remained frozen in her terrified state. “It could be a ploy,” said Arcee. “Probably trying to lure us into a false sense of security.”

“At least she isn’t screaming anymore,” said Bulkhead. “I thought my audio receptors were about to give out.”

Before Bumblebee could speculate further on Alice’s behavior, he received a call on his comm from the Axalon. 

“Primal here,” said the Maximal leader. “We’re detecting an absurd amount of temporal energy disruption.”

“I’m sorry, could you translate that into words I can understand?” Bumblebee asked.

“I’m just quoting Rhinox, and he’s acting a bit uneasy so I doubt further elaboration is coming. Just keep a lookout for any—”

Primal’s words trailed off at the same moment as there was a flash of light in the sky. Appearing above the city of Detroit was a large, claw-shaped spacecraft which proceeded to descend towards the Sumdac Tower.

“It’s the Predacons,” Bumblebee heard Primal say. “Stay where you are. We’ll be there shortly.”

“As if we were ever going to leave,” said Arcee, drawing a pair of blades. “Sari and Kicker are still in there. We need to stop these guys from getting into the tower.”

“Way ahead of you,” Bulkhead said as he handed Alice’s cage to Bumblebee before deploying a chained wrecking ball from his right arm. The other two Autobots stepped out of the way as Bulkhead swung the wrecking ball at the approaching Predacon ship. It struck the clawed spacecraft and, while it dealt minimal damage, it provided enough force to knock the ship off course and away from the tower. 

At that moment, a ramp lowered from the ship and Bumblebee could spot a large number of Predacons waiting to jump out. While he recognized a handful of them from the encounter in Verenya, he did not recognize a good majority of them. As the Predacons started to pour out of the ship, weapons drawn, Bumblebee quickly realized that their numbers had multiplied greatly since they had last faced them in Verenya.

“Oh, we are so slagged,” he muttered.

“The Maximals are on their way,” Arcee reminded him. “It won’t just be the three of us.”

“Yeah, but there’s only, what, four or five of them? These Predacons are in the dozens!”

“We’ve dealt with worse, haven’t we, ‘Bee?” Bulkhead asked. “We always pull through in the end.”

Not wanting to ruin his friend’s optimism, Bumblebee said nothing as he converted his left hand into a stinger while still holding Alice’s cage in his other arm. At the very least, he was grateful that the techno-organic was keeping quiet and not doing anything to ruin his concentration.

It was only seconds before the Predacons began their attack that he glanced at the cage and realized that its ray shield had been disabled… and that Alice was nowhere to be seen. 

*  *  *

“How is he?”

“His systems and primary sensors appear to be offline, but I’m still getting a spark-pulse from him,” Punch said as he knelt beside an unconscious Sandstorm. The Wreckers had managed to retrieve him from the ocean and brought him to the nearest landmass they could find, an isolated island in the middle of nowhere. “He’s gonna need some repairs on his chestplate though; his spark casing is exposed.”

Springer grimaced. “I’m afraid any repair kits we had sank with the Xantium. How long do you think he’ll last before we can get him to Ratchet or someone?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Punch snapped at him. “I’m not a medic! Hell, have you guys ever had a medic?”

“Fastfix was one,” Kup grunted. “Fell during the Decepticons’ resurgence a couple of years ago. That was where Scoop and the Jumpstarters met their end.”

“Too bad he wasn’t brought back along with us,” said Topspin. “I wonder why he was passed over.”

At this, Whirl tensed and Springer spared him a glance. Kup noticed the exchange and was quick to change the subject.

“Listen, kid,” he said to Springer. “I think this whole mission’s a bust. We’ve lost the Xantium and we’re about to lose Sandstorm. There’s no way in blazes we’re gonna be able to last against Sixshot, let alone whatever army Megatron is keeping over at his little camp. It’s over, Springer. It’s time to accept that.”

Springer said nothing in response, staring out at the endless ocean. Twin Twist threw up his arms as he dropped himself to the ground dejectedly.

“That’s it then, huh?” said the drill-tank Jumpstarter. “This is the ‘last stand of the Wreckers?’ I’m sure this’ll be a memorable story in the record books. I don’t think even Fisitron would have been proud of this entry.”

Springer rolled his hands into fists as he shuttered his optics. “Rack’n’Ruin.”

Twin Twist blinked as he and the others looked at their leader in confusion. “Huh?”

“Roadbuster. Leadfoot. Scoop. Fastfix. Pyro. Rotorstorm.”

“Oh, god,” Kup muttered, stepping over to place a hand on Springer’s shoulder. “Kid, don’t start this. Don’t… you’ve gotta pull yourself together—”

Springer knocked his hand aside. “Ironfist! Impactor! All of these bots died under my command, Kup! I’m the one who has to burden the blame!”

“Some of those deaths were outside your control!” Kup objected. “Impactor wasn’t even following your orders when he pulled off his stunt. And how could any of us have known about what Roadbuster was going through?”

“They were still my responsibility,” Springer said. “I was their commander. Their leader.”

“What, you think Impactor didn’t lose bots under his command? Hyperion? Crest? We all have the blood of our comrades on our hands. Even Optimus. Even me. But do we stop pushing ahead because of that? Do we ever let that stop us from making up for our mistakes.”

“Maybe we should,” Springer said quietly. “Because it seems like whenever we try to make up for our mistakes, we just end up repeating them.”

Kup opened his mouth to deliver another objection… yet no words came out. Closing up with a grimace, he directed his attention back to Sandstorm.

“We should probably call for an orbital jump back to Metroplex,” the veteran Autobot said. “I’m sure Elita’s gonna give us hell for what we just pulled off, but I don’t see what else we can do.”

“I’ll tell you what we can do,” Springer said. “We continue the mission.”

Kup shot him an incredulous look. “You can’t be serious, kid. Didn’t you hear a word I just said?”

“I’ve been listening to every single one. But it changes nothing. We have a mission and we are going to complete it.”

“Yeah, a mission you came up with,” Punch interjected. “Just now, you were going on about how you felt responsible for the deaths of everyone who’s served under you. You even dissuaded Sandstorm from tackling on Sixshot by himself. Now you want us to go to Megatron’s Decepticon camp and… and do what? Die in a blaze of glory?”

“No one is going to die,” Springer said, his voice dangerously quiet. “Not on my watch.”

“Then how do you propose we proceed with the mission that in a way that does not involve our spectacularly stupid deaths?”

Springer smirked. “I recruited you for a reason, Punch. How else do you think we’re going to utilize your talents?”

Punch stared at him confusedly until he glanced back at Sandstorm, at which point his optics widened in realization and dread. “You can’t be serious….”

“I have no idea what’s happening,” said Whirl. “But judging by the way you guys are acting, I can tell I’m gonna love it.”

*  *  *

“Anything on the scanners today?”

Wingspan directed a sidelong glance to his brother Pounce as the latter approached his station, situated out in the open Decepticon camp. “What did I tell you the last twelve times you’ve asked me that?”

Pounce rolled his optics. “It’s our job to keep checking the airspace to make sure the Autobots don’t try anything funny. Any second now, that Titan of their’s is gonna appear on the radar.”

“Oh, it’s ‘our’ job now?” Wingspan snapped. “Because for the past three hours, you’ve been spending more time getting a refuel then you have monitoring your station.”

“I have not!” Pounce protested. “Besides, my scanner is only for the ground. You’ve got the aerial one.”

“Right. And like I said, there hasn’t been anything for the last—” Wingspan trailed off as he straightened up in his seat and actually looked at his monitor. He then looked to the sky before looking back down.

“What is it?” Pounce asked.

“I could have sworn I saw—”

  Both Decepticon Clones let out a yelp as a massive figure in green, white, and purple armor landed in front of them. While Wingspan fell out of his seat, Pounce fumbled for his blaster and pointed it at the larger robot, only to hesitate when he realized who it was standing before him.

“Wait a minute… Sixshot? I thought… we all thought you were dead! No one’s seen you since you went after Scorponok over a century—”

“Where is Megatron?” Sixshot rumbled.

Pounce blinked and glanced at Wingspan, who was still laying on the ground in shock. “Um… pardon?”

“I know he’s here,” the Six Changer said, looking around the Decepticon camp. Already his presence had started to garner attraction and a crowd of Decepticons were beginning to form. “Where is he?”

“He, uh, he’s probably at Trypticon. Most likely in the big purple tower or… or whatever it is.” Pounce pointed at the location in question before looking back up at Sixshot. “Er, why do you want to know?”

“He and I have some catching up to do,” Sixshot simply replied. “It has been over a hundred years, after all.”