Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIV, Chapter Seven

 CHAPTER SEVEN

Cybertron - Outside Maccadam’s

“Sovereign? Can you hear me?”

Sovereign groaned as his systems booted back online. After readjusting his optics, he saw that he was no longer inside Maccadam’s Oil House but rather outside, slumped against a wall in the alleyway. As he tried to recollect himself and recall what had just happened, his communicator pinged again.

“Sovereign, come in. Do you copy?”

The Titan Master answered the comm. “I copy, Hazard,” he grumbled.

“Where the blazes are you? Infinitus told me you had gone to Maccadam’s, but they’re closed for the night.”

“I’m out in the alleyway. I’m guessing they tossed me out or something.”

“You’re guessing? You didn’t get yourself wasted, did you?”

“Shut up and find me already,” Sovereign muttered.

A few minutes later, a tall bot in light gray and red appeared from around the corner. Having been among the Titan Masters who had been part of Apex’s hijacking plot, Hazard had since taken on a larger Transtector body with a design reminiscent of the Decepticon Seekers. It was a practice that many Cyberdroids, including the Titan Masters, had taken up following Nova Prime’s rise to power so as to avoid prejudice. While there wasn’t much point to it now in today’s society, Sovereign supposed it did make Cyberdroids’ lives easier when dealing with other full-sized Cybertronians.

As Hazard approached Sovereign, he looked down at the Titan Master with a hint of amusement on his faceplate. “You didn’t really answer my question,” he said dryly.

“Alchemist Prime lives,” Sovereign replied, guesting at the Oil House next to him. “He’s been living in Iaconus, posing as a bar owner, for the past seven thousand years.”

“Is that right?” Hazard observed the building, not as fazed by the revelation as Sovereign thought he would have been. “That’s interesting.”

“Interesting?” Sovereign shot back. “Hazard, you know who Iaconus is. You know what it means that he is still functioning and still on Cybertron!”

“I’m not sure that I do. I mean, he hasn’t exactly been doing much, has he?”

Sovereign shook his head. “You and I both know that years of inactivity does not preclude things from actually happening. We need to shut him down permanently.”

Hazard looked back at him. “And how do you propose we do that?”

“I might have an idea,” Sovereign said quietly. “But first, we need to gather the other Titan Masters before we can proceed.” 

“You’re not thinking of pulling another Apex, are you? That didn’t go so well last time, and the Autobots are already wary of us as it is.”

“It was never about gaining their trust, Hazard. It was simply about preparing them for what is to come.”

Walking past Hazard, Sovereign stepped out of the alleyway and onto the streets of Iacon, looking in the direction of Fortress Maximus.

“And if that means jeopardizing what little trust they have in us… then so be it.”

Cybertron - Fortress Maximus

“Here he is.”

Dai Atlas stood in front of the cell containing the mysterious “clone” (or whatever he was) that called himself Prowl. Like Cerebros had said, the strange white-and-black bot was in an offline state and displayed no signs of life. If he hadn’t been told otherwise, Dai Atlas would have thought he was dead.

“And do you have a mnemosurgeon on hand to extract his memories?” Dai Atlas asked.

Cerebros nodded and gestured to a small tan and red bot, who stepped forward. “Infinitus tells me Stylor here is one.”

“I can’t make any guarantees that I’ll be able to get anything out of him,” Stylor admitted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got some firewalls in place.”

“Regardless, do whatever you can,” Dai Atlas said.

After Cerebros had lowered the shield to Prowl’s cell, Stylor stepped in and climbed onto the immobile bot, positioning himself behind the bot’s neck. Extending a set of needles from his fingers, the Titan Master plunged them into Prowl’s neck and got to work.

While Stylor operated on the clone, Dai Atlas turned back to look at Cerebros. “Have you had a chance to see if there are any other means of reaching Rodimus Prime via the space bridge?”

Cerebros shook his head. “I haven’t been able to bring up the same list that Sovereign did. However, he did say that Metrotitan is still online, and he was one of the Titans who went after Liege Maximo. While I’m not exactly sure where Metrotitan is, he might be our only chance at reaching Rodimus.”

Dai Atlas silently nodded as he returned his attention to Stylor. As soon as he did, the Titan Master pulled his needles out of Prowl’s neck and jumped off of the clone as it fell lifelessly to the floor.

“What happened?” Dai Atlas asked.

“He’s dead,” Stylor replied. “I think he has been for some time.”

“That’s not right,” Cerebros muttered, stepping into the cell to give the body a closer look. “His vitals were in functioning order when I checked them on the scanners just a few deca-cycles ago.”

“His vital functions are operating, but not his spark,” said Stylor. “Because he doesn’t have one.”

Cerebros looked confused as he rolled the clone onto its back and opened up its chest plate. Indeed, where a spark and its chamber would have been was instead a simple circuit board, its wires having been somehow disconnected and permanently disabled.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “What even is he?”

“He’s a member of the Second Generation,” Stylor explained. “The children of Liege Maximo.”

Dai Atlas looked at him skeptically. “How do you know about that?”

“I lived during the Age of the Primes, as did my fellow Titan Masters. The Second Generation had always been a talking point in Liege Maximo’s vision for Cybertron, as the next point of evolution for the Cybertronian race. Rather than rely on sparks for life, they would instead run on pure energy and fuel. Even after the hot spots went cold and Vector Sigma became dormant, the Cybertronian race would live on through the Second Generation.”

“And Maximo was successful in giving birth to this ‘generation?’”

“Not during my time,” Stylor replied. “But, based on how this bot is built and considering he is already associated in some way with Liege Maximo, I have no doubt that that is what he is.”

“Fantastic,” Dai Atlas grumbled. “So we’re still back where we started.”

Suddenly, Cerebros stood up and turned to face Stylor. “You’re a Titan Master, aren’t you? Can you access Fort Max’s database?”

“Uh, I can try. Why?”

“Sovereign saw something in it that caused him to run out. I want to find out what it was.”

“Shouldn’t we focus on finding Rodimus?” Dai Atlas asked.

“It’ll have to wait.” Striding out of the cell, Cerebros beckoned the other two to follow him. “Follow me.”

While Dai Atlas started to follow Cerebros, Stylor did not. The two Autobots both stopped to look at the Titan Master, regarding him suspiciously.

“Aren’t you coming?” Dai Atlas asked.

Stylor’s expression was blank and unreadable. He didn’t even seem to be paying attention to the Autobots at all and instead appeared to be deep in thought. After a pressing few moments, he looked back up at the other two and frowned.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this, Kord,” the Titan Master said.

Cerebros shifted at the name. It was the same name the Titan Masters had addressed him with during their abduction plot. “What are you—”

Out of nowhere, a blaster bolt flew across the room and struck Dai Atlas in the back. The councilor cried as he fell face-first to the floor, at which point Stylor jumped onto him and inserted needles into his neck.

“Stop! Get off of him!” Cerebros moved to lunge at Stylor only for a strong hand to grab him by the shoulder and pull him back. Cerebros turned around to see Infinitus standing before him, a gun in hand.

“Infinitus! What’s going on? What is the meaning of this?”

Infinitus’ expression was one of solemnity. “I’m sorry, Kord. This has to be done. For the good of all of Cybertron.”

Cerebros stepped back from him. “You keep calling me that. That’s not my name. My name is Cerebros!”

“I wish this reunion could have been under better circumstances.”

Before Cerebros could do anything, Infinitus struck him in the face with the back of his gun. As he fell to the floor, Stylor moved from Dai Atlas and climbed onto Cerebros, brandishing his needles.

“It is time you finally remember who you are, Kord,” Infinitus went on. “Who you are meant to be.”

Cerebros could barely scream as the needles injected into his neck and the world exploded around him.

Cybertron - High Council Pavilions

“I would like to request an audience with the Council.”

The Autobot guard standing outside the chambers of the Council of Worlds regarded Punch with a look of disinterest. “Do you have a permit?” he grumbled.

“I don’t have time for bureaucratic nonsense,” Punch retorted. “This is important.”

“Really. How important are we talking about?”

“Important enough that I don’t need to go through any frivolous channels like yourself.”

The guard shifted his gaze from Punch to Maccadam and Toxitron, who stood behind the double agent. “And what are these two here for?”

Punch put a hand on Maccadam’s shoulder. “You’ve been to Maccadam’s Old Oil House, haven’t you?” he asked the guard.

“Once or twice.”

“Well, you’re looking at the fabled owner himself. He’s come out of a several millennia-long period of obscurity to speak with the Council. That’s how important this is.”

“What, did his bar license expire?”

At this, Maccadam let out a hearty laugh, which caught Punch off-guard. “Oh, that’s a very good guess,” the proprietor said. “In fact, I don’t think it’s been renewed since the fall of the High Council. Technically, I should be arrested.”

“I’m this close from doing so,” the guard grunted. “Now get lost before I—”

Toxitron stepped forward and threw his fist into the guard’s face, knocking them offline. He then swiped the bot’s security card and used it to open the door, all before Punch could utter a word of protest.

“You’re going to get us all in trouble,” Punch hissed.

Toxitron ignored him as he stepped through the door. Punch and Maccadam followed him and the trio found themselves staring down the barrels of several guns pointed at their faces.

“Identify yourselves!” ordered one of the security officers standing between them and the handful of councilors present in the chamber.

Punch raised an arm and displayed a small holographic image from his wrist. “Punch of Harmonex. Agent C-111 of the Autobot Secret Service. Pleasure to meet you.”

The officer regarded the hologram with a look of skepticism. “These credentials are out of date.”

“Your motherboard is out of date. Let us through.”

“Stand down, all of you.” Windblade came up from behind the security guards, eying Punch and his group warily. “What is going on here?”

“Maccadam here has some secrets he would like to share with you.” Punch glared at the proprietor in question. “Isn’t that right?”

“Maccadam? As in the owner of the Old Oil House?” Windblade stared at the orange bot in astonishment. “You’re really him?”

“Indeed I am,” Maccadam replied. “I will admit, I was not expecting to reveal myself to the public either, yet here we are.”

“Right,” Punch muttered. “So, you want to start spilling the beans or does Toxitron have to hit you with a door?”

Maccadam opened his mouth to speak… only to stop, his cheerful expression suddenly dropping and replaced with a look of dread. The lenses which covered his optics started to glow brightly, just as they had when Toxitron wore them.

“No,” he murmured. “Not now.”

“What is it?” Windblade asked, pushing past the guards to stand in front of Maccadam.

“It’s already begun. The Drilling has commenced. Too late to stop it. The Beast is on its way.”

“What ‘Beast?’ What the hell is ‘the Drilling?’”

Maccadam said nothing. Instead, he turned around and, with a surprising amount of strength, pushed Punch and Toxitron aside before dashing for the door. The Autobots quickly moved to pursue him, but when they stepped outside of the hall, Maccadam was nowhere to be seen, with nary a trace of him.

Raising a hand to her comm, Windblade said, “This is Councilor Windblade to security! Dispatch all available units to Maccadam’s Old Oil House!”

“Er, bit of a problem with that, Councilor,” responded the voice of Checkpoint.

Windblade frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Fortress Maximus has come online. And he’s already headed there.”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIV, Chapter Six

 CHAPTER SIX

Planet X

Wheelie knew that he was lost.

He could still hear the sounds from the arena, but they were well in the distance now. The hallway he had since found himself in was at least five times his size, making him feel even smaller than he already was. Every corner he turned simply led him down a different hallway, which then split off into two or three different corridors. To make matters worse, each room looked the same as the last, making Wheelie feel as if he was just driving around in circles.

Just as he was about to stop to try and collect himself, Wheelie heard voices coming from nearby. Quietly transforming to his robot mode, Wheelie walked in the direction of the voices, careful not to make a sound. He could them clearer as he neared a small room that he would have missed had he not been looking for it. Pressing himself against the wall just next to the doorway, Wheelie raised the sensitivity of his audio receptors to better hear what the individuals in the room were saying.

“…disturbance in Arena Two. Overseer Rexian is requesting reinforcements.”

“Dispatch Unit Five and Seven to Arena Two.”

“Should we strengthen security for Arena One?”

“Do that for all of them. This situation cannot bleed over.”

Suddenly, the door opened and Wheelie pressed himself against the wall, bracing for the worst. A pair of bots — both bearing armor with spiky edges — strode out of the room and walked past him, seemingly oblivious to his presence.

“The Drilling is about to begin,” said one of the two bots. “We cannot afford to have things be interrupted this late in the game.”

“I agree,” said the other. “Besides, you remember what happened to the last person to allow the plan to be set back.”

“Gah, don’t remind me. I can still hear the screams whenever I enter shutdown….”

The pair continued walking down the hall and turned the corner, disappearing from Wheelie’s line of sight. Realizing that the door was still open, he dashed into the small room and closed the door behind him. Once inside, he found himself facing a set of monitors, each linked to cameras in rooms throughout the facility. On one he could see the arena that he and Kup had been in, with the freed Monstercons still trying to fight their way out of the chamber. He was unable to spot Kup amongst the sea of Decepticons and could only pray that the older bot had gotten to safety.

Wheelie then shifted his attention to a monitor showing one of the other arenas. On the screen, he could see what looked to be hundreds of Autobots trapped in cells, with a pool filled with Sharkticons waiting below them. A five-faced Quintesson judge presided over the chamber while an overseer-type prosecuted the captive bots. Although Wheelie was not familiar with any of the bots being held prisoner, he knew it was his duty as an Autobot to help them.

As he started to hack into the console and find out where the prisoners were located, Wheelie heard the door open behind him. Afraid that it was the same bots who had been in here earlier, he braced himself for the worst as he turned around. Instead, he saw a short black and blue bot — about equal in size as him — who immediately froze upon seeing Wheelie. 

“Uh… I don’t think you should be here.”

Moving quickly, Wheelie jumped onto the other bot and tackled him to the floor, clamping a hand over his faceplate. “Make nary a sound and I won’t give your head a pound,” Wheelie whispered to him.

The other bot blinked but said nothing. After dragging him inside and closing the door again, Wheelie pinned him against the wall and unsheathed a small blade, holding it up to his neck.

“Show me the way and this will not be your last day.”

“Why are you talking like that?” the other bot questioned him, eying the knife nervously. “Who even are you?”

“I should be asking you the same,” Wheelie replied. “Perhaps you could provide me with your name.”

“My name is Wipe-Out. Please, could you do away with the knife? It’s really not necessary.”

Wheelie did not lower the knife. With his other hand, he pointed to the set of monitors, indicating the one that was his main concern. “Can you take me there?” he asked.

Wipe-Out glanced at the screen in question. “You mean the Courtroom? I, uh, I guess I could.”

“Will you help me free them?”

“Um, well, I— I don’t know if that would be smart,” Wipe-Out said. “There are a lot of guards down there and there’s only two of us and—”

“We’re not confronting them head on,” Wheelie interjected. “We would be sneaking in and pulling a con.”

Wipe-Out tilted his head. “You’re… you’re a Decepticon?”

Wheelie blinked in confusion. “What? No. What makes you….” He shook his head. “Forget it. Just take me there and follow my lead. Got it?”

Wipe-Out said nothing at first, staring at Wheelie as if weighing his options. Finally, he nodded, albeit with some hesitation.

“Okay. You got it. I’m with you. Now can you please put the knife away?”

Wheelie did so, though he still kept a hold on the other bot. With his other hand, he hit the control panel to open the door. It slid open and he turned to walk out… only to see the two spiky bots he had seen earlier standing outside. Before he had time to react, one of the pair seized him by the neck and hoisted him up, a wicked grin on their face.

“Well, well,” the scarlet-colored bot said, a sadistic gleam in his yellow optics. “And just where did you come from?”

“I asked him but he wouldn’t even tell me,” Wipe-Out started to stay. “I think he—”

“I wasn’t talking to you, runt,” the larger bot snapped. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Flame?”

“Yes, but he sent me to fetch you,” Wipe-Out said hastily. “He, uh, he said needed your help or— or something.”

The spiky bot scowled. “Fine. Maybe while we’re there, he can find a use for this little intruder. If not, we can always feed him to the Sharkticons.”

Wheelie opened his mouth and was about to fire a sharp retort only to stop when the floor shook slightly. Wipe-Out reacted in alarm and even the two spiky bots seemed confused at first. Then, the red one smiled.

“Oh. So it has begun.”

“What?” Wipe-Out whined. “What has begun?”

“The Drilling.”

*  *  *

“I would like to thank you for agreeing to join me on this momentous occasion.”

Rodimus Prime glared at the being who called himself Primus, his arms still bound by energy rays. “I wouldn’t say ‘agreeing’ is the right word to use.”

Primus ignored the remark as he stared at a viewscreen showing the five planetoids that comprised his God Gun. “I know we did not get off on the right foot earlier,” he went on. “But I still wanted you and your fellow Primes to be present for what is sure to be a historical moment.”

Rodimus looked over to see that he and Convoy were not the only ones in the room with Primus. Vector Prime stood nearby, similarly restrained, while Liege Maximo and Amalgamous Prime loomed over him. Vector met Rodimus’ gaze with a apprehensive look but said nothing to the younger Prime.

Primus began speaking again, redirecting Rodimus’ attention back to him. “It was on this day, over twelve thousand years ago, that my younger self — through Adaptus — bore witness to what you are about to see for yourselves. As we speak, he travels through the Warren and by the time he emerges here, the Beast will have already arrived.”

“My friend Convoy here told me a little bit of your story,” said Rodimus. “Is this where you took Luna One after the Quintessons were driven away?”

“You know about that, do you?” Primus replied, turning to look at Rodimus. “In any case, you are correct. As soon as the Lunarians had finished building the moon’s engines, I — Adaptus, that is — took it into the Warren, a network of subspace tunnels that he had discovered shortly before he turned against the other four. It deposited me into the Benzene Cluster, thousands of years into the future, where I saw… it.”

“And just what is ‘it?’” Rodimus asked.

“Words cannot do it justice. Even seeing it would be enough to cause your processor to overload itself. Speaking of which….” Primus turned back to the viewscreen. “I do believe we are about to begin.”

Rodimus shifted his gaze to the viewscreen and saw that the five Cybertron replicas that made up the God Gun were beginning to glow. Beams of energy emitted from the spheres, linking them together before being redirected towards the central planetoid. As the beams converged onto Planet X, Rodimus felt the ground shift, as if the planet was threatening to split itself apart. Primus did not appear to be bothered by this. In fact, although he lacked a mouth, Rodimus was pretty sure he would have been smiling.

“Prepare yourselves, my friends,” the Grand Architect said quietly. “The Beast is on his way.”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIV, Chapter Five

 CHAPTER FIVE

Planet X

“Your friend is unwell. He has been twisted by this Hell.”

“You said it, lad,” Kup muttered, sitting across from his cellmate. The small orange bot went by the name Wheelie and had an odd way of speaking, often using rhymes. So far, Kup had not been able to discern much about Wheelie’s history and how he had ended up in the Quintessons’ clutches, though he supposed it didn’t matter much at the moment, with there being more pressing matters at hand.

He looked outside to see that Guzzle had been brought back out for another match. While the mad tank-bot was still shaking and loudly declaring his craving for more bots to kills, Kup could tell that he was not as energized as he had been previously. These barbaric matches were wearing Guzzle down, and the Quintessons had not been doing much to keep him in good shape. If this next match didn’t kill Guzzle, the next two or three certainly would.

“Much as I hate to admit it, I’d say he’s our best chance of breaking out of here,” Kup said quietly. “If we could find a way to distract him and lure him here, maybe we can provoke him into tearing the door open.”

“Your idea is sound but I cannot lie, if the monster comes to us, we most certainly would die,” said Wheelie.

“It’s a big risk, I know. But honestly, I’d rather have him tear me apart than be fed to the Sharkticons. Besides, your small and would have a better chance at evading him.” Kup’s expression turned grim. “He wants me dead anyway.”

Wheelie gave him a quizzical look but thankfully did not ask Kup to elaborate on the last bit. “Among the Sharkticons, I have a friend,” he said instead. “He can save us from a terrible end.”

It was Kup’s turn to look quizzical. “You’re friends with a Sharkticon? How did that happen?”

“Gnaw is his name. He did not eat me, whereas the others would have. Visits me he sometimes does when his masters are not looking.”

Kup frowned. “And how exactly is he going to help us? Do you have any way of summoning him?”

Wheelie shook his head. “Gnaw arrives as he pleases. Far be it from me to impede on his freedom.”

“Well, I’m afraid we can’t abide by your friend’s schedule. We need to get out of here now or else we’ll never have another shot at this.”

Kup watched through the bars as Guzzle was taken into the arena. Waiting for him there was another batch of Monstercons, all looking terrified of what they knew was their impending doom. Guzzle looked down at them with a look of hunger in his optics.

“Ah— dessert time!” Guzzle rubbed his large hands together. “What do we have on the menu tonight? Some Croctobot stew with a side of Lobstercon?”

“W-we ain’t afraid of you!” cried a teal and yellow reptilian Monstercon, shaking as he pointed a gun at Guzzle. “W-we outn-number you!”

Guzzle laughed as he brought his fist down onto Razorgrille, smashing him into the floor. “Numbers don’t mean nothing.”

“This… this isn’t worth the XP,” murmured a red-orange lobster-like Decepticon. “Can I skip this level? There’s gotta be a cheat code for it. I knew I should have leveled up before getting to this part….”

Bisk turned to run away only to be grabbed from behind by Guzzle. Just as the ex-Wrecker was about to tear the Monstercon in half, Kup chose that moment to make his move.

“Hardspark!”

Guzzle froze and a deathly silence fell over the room. One of the Quintessons overseeing the arena turned in the direction of Kup and Wheelie’s cell and sneered.

“Silence, or your time will come sooner than you would prefer,” growled the overseer.

Kup ignored him and proceeded to speak to Guzzle. “Remember Hardspark, lad? Your brother? The same brother that I killed?”

Guzzle roared out in rage and he threw Bisk into a bat-like Monstercon, before turning in Kup’s direction. His optical sensors flared madly as steam exhumed from the vents in his faceplate.

“I’d say it’s by time you got your revenge, wouldn’t you say, pal?” Kup went on, aware that Wheelie was staring at him as if he was a mad man (he wouldn’t have been wrong, either). “You’ve been denied your shot at me once too often.”

“Silence!” the overseer bellowed. “Do not interfere with the match!”

Kup smirked, locking eyes with Guzzle. “Come and get me, kid. I know you want to.”

With an ear-splitting roar, Guzzle charged towards the cell, barreling past the Allicon guards that stood in his way. As he backed up against the wall, Kup glanced at Wheelie.

“You can still transform, can’t you, lad?”

Wheelie slowly nodded, still looking between fear of Guzzle and annoyance with Kup.

“Once you see an opening, go through it. Go and find Gnaw or whatever his name is. I’ll hold this guy off.”

“You will not last long,” Wheelie whispered. “He is much too strong.”

“I know. That’s the idea.”

The Quintessons’ efforts to reel Guzzle back in were ineffective and the tank-bot came crashing into the cell, undeterred by the electrical shocks that the bars tried to surge into his body. Without hesitation, Wheelie transformed into a small orange car and sped off, leaving Kup to his fate.

“YOU’RE GONNA DIE, YOU SPAWN OF A GLITCH!” Guzzle roared. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU SO HARD!”

Kup smirked in the face of death. “Promises, promises.”  

*  *  *

“Well, well, well. Looks like we have a useful distraction.”

Leo Prime peered through the bars of his cell to see that Guzzle had broken off from his fight with the Monstercons and was instead attacking one of the many cells that surrounded the arena. He then glanced at Steel Jaw, who had a thoughtful smirk on his lupine face.

“How is this useful?” Leo Prime asked. “We’re still stuck in a cell. This doesn’t change anything.”

“But the guards are distracted,” Steel Jaw pointed out. Indeed, the Allicons that had been stationed at their cell had abandoned their post to deal with the raging Guzzle. “Meaning there’s no one here to stop us.”

“Stop us from what? Are you saying you’ve had a escape plan this whole time?”

Steel Jaw flashed a sly grin. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Do you really think I would have gone so many days, so many weeks, without having formulated some sort of plan?”

Leo Prime rolled his eyes, already fed up with the wolf-Con’s arrogance. “Well, what’s your plan then?”

“You know how I have a penchant for sonic weaponry?” Steel Jaw asked.

Leo Prime’s optics narrowed, recalling how Steel Jaw’s “penchant” had botched his plans back on Earth. “Yes….”

“Well, I took an interest in our late friend Carnivac’s ability to temporarily disable others with his sonic howls. I took some time to build a device that could replicate his power.”

“So, what, your plan for escape is to knock everyone out cold, including ourselves?” Leo Prime asked wryly.

Steel Jaw chuckled. “It doesn’t quite work to the same extent. Just enough for our purposes.”

He raised his right arm, which converted into the shape of a gun. He pointed it at the ceiling and it let out a single “burst” of sound, at a low enough frequency that Leo Prime could barely hear it. Instantly, all of the cell doors across the arena opened, allowing the captive Monstercons, Chimeracons, and Star Seekers to pour out.

Leo Prime gawked upon this scene before looking back at Steel Jaw, who smirked back at him.

“Am I forgiven now?”

Leo Prime shook his head as he stepped out of their cell, out into the now-crowded arena. “Ask me again if we survive this.”

*  *  *

Kup should have been dead by now.

He wasn’t just thinking about Guzzle, who was mere inches from killing Kup and was held back only by the Allicons trying to reel him back in. He was also thinking about the countless other near-death experiences and scenarios he had been through over the course of his life. From being trapped in the Nightmare Engine to being shot into a sun, he had practically been through hell and back. Yet somehow, against all odds, he was still holding together to this day. Kup couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing as Guzzle continued to rage in front of him.

“GET OFF OF ME!” Guzzle bellowed as an Allicon stuck an electric prod into the back of his head. “I’M NOT LETTING YOU GREASE-STAINS KEEP ME FROM MY DESTINY!”

Kup knew he should have been using this opportunity to escape. But he knew wherever he went, Guzzle would follow and endanger the lives of not just Kup but anyone around him. No, he had to stay put and make sure that Guzzle was put down for good… even if it came at the cost of his own life.

As Guzzle threw the Allicon off of him and into two others that were approaching, Kup chose that moment to act. Launching into the air, he transformed into his truck mode and rammed himself into the tank. Despite the vast disparity between their sizes, the force of the blow was enough to knock Guzzle back, bringing them out of the cell and into the arena. Returning to his robot mode, Kup threw his fists into Guzzle’s head, not pulling any punches as he tried to keep the ex-Wrecker disoriented enough from throwing back.

Suddenly, a symphony of cheers and roars filled the arena. Looking up, Kup saw that the cells surrounding the arena had inexplicably been opened and countless prisoners were pouring out, all converging on his and Guzzle’s location.

“Oh, slag.” Kup jumped off of Guzzle before the larger Autobot could recover and attack him. At that moment, a serpentine Monstercon lunged at Guzzle and wrapped himself around the ex-Wrecker, holding him in place.

“I’ve got him!” Vertebrake cried. “He’s all yours!”

At first, Kup thought the Monstercon was talking to him, until the other Decepticons all swarmed in and attacked the restrained Guzzle, guns ablaze. Among the assailants was a purple Chompazoid, who eagerly charged towards Guzzle and wrapped his huge maw around the ex-Wrecker’s legs. The scream Guzzle uttered as his legs were ripped from his body was a sound Kup hoped to never hear again.

It wasn’t long before Guzzle was on the ground and Kup could no longer see him beyond the sea of Decepticons that was overwhelming him. Guzzle continued to scream but his attempts to fight back were in vain as the Monstercons proceeded to pull him apart piece by piece. Kup looked away, not wanting to see what would remain of his former comrade once the Monstercons had had their fill.

Looking up, Kup saw that the Quintesson overseers and their Allicon guards were gathering together at the rim of the arena, watching the unfolding events with vague expressions. Realizing that they were not paying attention to him, Kup transformed into his truck mode and drove up the side of the arena. Jumping up, he converted back to his robot form and landed a punch into one of the Allicons’ faces, attracting the Quintessons’ attention. The veteran Autobot held up his fists as the other guards pointed their spears at him.

“You really think you can beat me with those sticks of yours?” Kup said with a wry grin. “’Cons bigger and stronger than you have blasted me with worse, and yet here I am still.”

“Know your place, Cybertronian!” snarled one of the Quintessons. “Stand down and comply or else we will—”

“Rexian!” said another overseer. “We must get this situation under control! Once those… those beasts are done with our fighter, they will come for us!”

Overseer Rexian frowned as he looked back down into the arena. “I believe they already are.”

Kup followed his gaze and saw that the ‘Cons were indeed already finished with Guzzle, leaving nothing but what barely qualified as an endoskeleton, and were now heading towards where he and the Quintessons were.

“Fall back!” Rexian cried. “Fall back!”

With “Nightmare Engine” and “being shot into a sun” already being on his list of impossible survival scenarios, Kup could only hope that “fleeing from Monstercons with a bunch of alien squids” would be one of them.

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIV, Chapter Four

 CHAPTER FOUR

Cybertron - Maccadam’s Old Oil House

“Care for some vintage Visco? I’ve been keeping it stored for the last two thousand years.”

“Uh, no, thanks,” Punch said, declining the energon Maccadam was offering him. He and Toxitron stood with the proprietor of the Oil House in the facility’s lowest level, with containers of old, even obscure variations of energon surrounding them. 

Toxitron was acting remarkably quiet and calm, considering the fit he had just thrown not too long ago. Considering that Maccadam claimed to know something about who Toxitron was, Punch wasn’t sure if the old bot was having some kind of effect on the Optimus clone. Toxitron was watching Maccadam carefully as the latter placed the can of Visco back on the shelf before turning to face the two Autobots.

“Now then,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Where shall we begin?”

“I suppose we could start with how you know Toxitron in the first place,” said Punch. “Have you two met before?”

“Oh, not personally,” Maccadam replied. “I simply have my way of knowing things; things that others would not expect me to know.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Maccadam said nothing as he raised his hands to his optics and pulled them away from his face. In fact, they were a pair of spectacles that revealed a set of normal-sized optical sensors underneath. He then handed them to Toxitron, who instantly recoiled from him.

“What the hell are you doing?” the Optimus clone growled.

“Put these on,” Maccadam said gently.

“Why? How do I know I can even trust you? You’re just a freaky old bot who I’ve only known for a few minutes. No way am I putting something you give me on my face!”

“If you want to know the truth—”

“I don’t want to know the truth!” Toxitron snapped. “I’m perfectly happy not knowing anything about who or what I was before the Secret Order captured me and… and….”

His voice trailed off as his gaze returned to the spectacles. Punch watched his expression carefully, unable to get a read on it. After a few moments, Toxitron slowly reached for the spectacles and took them from Maccadam’s hands.

“Punch,” the Optimus clone said quietly, “if anything happens to me, I want you to beat the crap out of him.”

“Uh, sure,” Punch replied, glancing furtively at Maccadam who remained calm and cordial. “I’ll, uh, I’ll do that.”

Seemingly satisfied with this response, Toxitron raised the spectacles to his face and put them over his optics. As he stood there, Punch glanced back at Maccadam.

“Is something going to happen?”

Maccadam shook his head. “Not from our perspective. But from his… it will be a whole other story.”

Toxitron’s memories

“End of the road, Imperious. This ends now.”

Toxitron blinked as he tried to register where he was. He was no longer in Maccadam’s but instead standing alongside his fellow members of the Convoy Corps, sword and gun drawn. He looked down at his body and realized he was no longer in that disgusting yellowish-green and purple color scheme and instead back in his blue and red deco.

He was no longer Toxitron. He was Battle Convoy once more.

“Any last words?”

The bot speaking was Optronix, leader of the Convoy Corps, who had his gun trained on the intimidating figure standing before the Convoys. Lord Imperious Delirious regarded them all with a look of disinterest, as if they were simply children playing with toys rather than battle-hardened soldiers of war.

“Is this truly the best Cybertron has to offer?” the leader of the Destructons said. “I am sorely disappointed.”

“We have already defeated your three cronies,” Optronix said. “They’re waiting for you in the dimensional cell that the Logicons have cooked up.”

Lord Imperious chuckled. “And just what makes you think we simply won’t break out and wreak havoc once more?”

“Surrender, Imperious. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Lord Imperious started to move, but before Battle Convoy could see what the Destructon was about to do, the scene around him changed. He was now sitting in a room, staring down at his sword. Its red blade was worn with rust and stained with dried energon. He looked up to see a large bot in blue and red armor standing before him.

“Well?” Delta Magnus asked, looking down expectantly at him. “What do you say? Do you want to make a difference in the world again?”

The scene changed again before he could even hear his answer. He was now lying on a slab of metal, bolted down and unable to move. Three figures stood over him, watching him closely as he squirmed in his constraints.

“I’m not sure how well this is going to go,” said a black and gray bot with a teal faceplate. “Unlike the other one, he is a bit more… volatile. Resistant.”

“Just put him into stasis lock then,” said a mech in black and silver. “That’s what we’ve done for all the other rejects.”

“We’ve already tried that, Magnificus. He still keeps coming back online and interrupting the process.”

“I have something that might work,” said a bot with armor that was a sick shade of green.

The teal-faced bot gave him an exasperated look. “Oil Slick, if it’s that Tox-En garbage you’ve been talking about—”

“You’ve never given me a chance to put it to the test, Vivisector! It just might produce the results we need!”

“And if it doesn’t?” asked Magnificus.

“Then we’ll just toss him in with the other rejects,” Oil Slick replied. “He’ll just… smell worse, is all.”

Magnificus sighed. “Fine. Do whatever you need to do. Just make sure you clean up afterwards.”

All Battle Convoy could do was thrash and scream as the other two Decepticons closed in on him. Once more, the scene changed around him and he was back on Metascan Alpha, being hoisted up in the air by one of Lord Imperious’s arms, while he held Optronix and Magna Convoy in two others.

“You’re right,” the leader of the Destructons said coldly. “Let us not make this harder than it needs to be.”

His face split open and Battle Convoy was assaulted with a barrage of colors and visuals, overloading his processor. He screamed out in sheer agony, yet he could still hear Lord Imperious’ words ring in his head as the Destructon spoke to him again.

“There is no point in existing. Just let go. Surrender yourself to the everlasting sleep that awaits you.”

Battle Convoy clawed at his face, trying to block out the images, the screams, his own screams, the voices. But he couldn’t; no matter how hard he tried, he could still hear them. 

“No!” he cried in between screams. “No! No!…”

Maccadam’s, the present

“NO!” Toxitron roared as he tore Maccadam’s lenses from his face, tossing them onto the floor. He moved to lunge at Maccadam himself only to be shoved into the wall by Punch.

“Stop!” the double agent said. “What did you see? What made you—”

“Get off of me!” Toxitron pushed Punch off of him before turning to Maccadam. He pointed a shaking purple finger at the old orange bot, his eyes narrowed. “Don’t… don’t ever make me relive that again. There’s a reason I want to forget about my past.”

“I know,” Maccadam said gravelly. “But your memories may just be what we need to stop the threat that is to come.”

Punch looked at him. “What do you mean?”

Maccadam bent down to pick up his spectacles, returning them to his face. “As I’m sure you know by now, the Destructons have returned and are in league with this Grand Architect that has been making the rounds. However, I feel that the Destructons’ involvement in the Grand Architect runs deeper than we have been led to believe.”

“What are you talking about?” Punch asked. “And what is this ‘we’ stuff we’re talking about? You haven’t been seen by anyone for several thousand years and all of a sudden you’re acting like you’ve been with us this whole time!”

Maccadam smiled at him. “Because I have been with you. You’ve just never realized it.”

Before Punch could even begin to ask the old mech to elaborate on this further, he heard footsteps behind him and turned to see the barkeep Ebrius step down into the cellar.

“Sir, there’s someone asking to see you.”

“I am not expecting anyone else, Ebrius,” Maccadam said. “Just wave them off as you would any other—”

“He says his name is Sovereign.”

Maccadam went quiet at this, his body tensing. “Oh, dear,” he muttered. “I was not expecting him to figure it out that quickly.”

“Figure what out?” Punch asked.

Maccadam shook his head, waving a dismissive hand. “It is none of your concern. I think it would be best if you two left now; we can continue this conversation at a later time.”

“How about ‘never?’” Toxitron grunted, already headed to leave the cellar. “’Never’ sounds good to me.”

However, just as Toxitron reached the door, it was blasted off of its hinges and went flying into him, knocking him to the floor. Emerging from the other side was a diminutive purple robot, propelled by thrusters in his feet while his hands crackled with energy.

“Maccadam,” Sovereign said, speaking the name with a hint of irony. “You have much to explain.”

“Sovereign. What a pleasant surprise,” Maccadam said, though Punch knew he was faking the surprise in his voice. “How may I be of service to you?”

“Don’t bother feigning ignorance,” Sovereign growled. “If you know who — and what — I am, then you know why I am here.”

“You could still be here for a thousand different reasons. Please, be more specific.”

Sovereign shot a bolt of energy at the wall behind Maccadam, scorching it. “Stop playing games, Alchemist! I know that Iaconus is here!”

“Do you?” Maccadam asked, unfazed by the outburst. “What leads you to that conclusion?”

“I accessed Fortress Maximus’ database and discovered Iaconus to not only be alive, but here on Cybertron. You’ve been hiding him in plain sight for over seven thousand years.”

“An interesting deduction. And, supposing this is true, what exactly do you plan to do about it?”

Sovereign hesitated for a moment. This moment was all Toxitron needed to get back up and hurl the door back at the Titan Master, sending him flying into the wall. The small purple robot fell to the floor, alive but unmoving.

Turning to Maccadam, Punch said, “I’d say you have a lot of explaining to do, old mech. Care to share your secrets with the Council?”

“I suppose I don’t have much choice, do I?” Maccadam replied. “Can’t say I’m in the mood for having a door thrown at me.”

Toxitron glared back at him as he continued walking out. “Don’t tempt me.”

Council Chambers

“…in short, we have no means of accessing Carcer’s space bridge and therefore have no present means of rescuing Rodimus Prime.”

The gathered members of the Council of Worlds listened in on Cerebros’ report, grim looks all around (save for Knock Out, who looked as if he preferred to be anywhere but here).

“That is… not good to here,” stated Dai Atlas. “Do we have any other indicator as to Rodimus Prime’s current location.”

Cerebros’ holographic form shook its head. “I’m afraid not. As far as I’m aware of, neither Liege Maximo nor Carcer have an actual colony world associated with them.”

“There must be something,” said Moonracer. “We can’t just give up now because of this.”

“Or we can just accept the prospect that Rodimus Prime may be dead,” muttered Knock Out, not looking up from the nail he was inspecting. “Just putting that thought on the table.”

“Until we have even a shred of evidence, we cannot be certain either way,” Tigatron stressed. “I suggest we double our efforts to find Prime rather than lessen them.”

“What other leads do we have though?” asked Airazor. “Fortress Maximus’s space bridge was our only hope at reaching him, because that was where we lost him.”

“Er, not quite,” Cerebros murmured. When the councilors all turned to look at him, he quickly added, “We actually still have the Prowl clone who initiated this whole incident in captivity.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so earlier?” demanded Fireshot.

“Because ever since the incident, he’s gone completely offline,” Cerebros explained. “I’ve been keeping him in Fortress Maximus’ brig, trying to wake him back up, but to no avail. I suppose we have no choice but to use a mnemosurgeon or something like them to extract his memories.”

“That can easily be arranged,” said Knock Out. “I believe one of our new Titan Master allies is a mnemosurgeon, correct?”

Dai Atlas shook his head. “That is something the old Council would have done, back during Sentinel Prime and Proteus’ reign. I refuse to stoop to those levels. No, we will have to use approach more within the law. Cerebros, can you take me to see this ‘Prowl?’”

“Certainly.”

“Then I shall address this matter myself.” To the other councilors, Dai Atlas said, “The meeting is adjourned for now. I will summon you here again if any developments arise.”

“I wasn’t aware you had been appointed leader,” Knock Out started to mutter, only to be shushed by Moonracer.

Ignoring the remark, Dai Atlas turned back to Cerebros. “Lead the way.”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIV, Chapter Three

 CHAPTER THREE

Planet X

“Did you know about any of this?”

Convoy glanced at Rodimus Prime as he sat across from him in their shared holding cell, listening to the screams of those being tortured by the Quintessons. “Why do you ask?” he muttered.

“Was any of this part of what Liege Maximo told you?” Rodimus pressed him. “Like Primus being the Grand Architect or the Quintessons being involved.”

Convoy sighed, not meeting the younger Prime’s gaze. “Yes. Or at least, it was part of what he told me.”

“Listen,” Rodimus said carefully. “I know whatever it was he told you made you… lose it for a bit. But if what’s just happened has given credence to his story… then maybe now is a good time as any to let me in on it, if only so I can have a better understanding at what’s going on.”

Convoy looked up at him, his expression stoic. “You won’t like it. It will break you, as it did me.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Rodimus said.

The older Prime stared at him, as if he couldn’t decide whether Rodimus’ courage was remarkable or foolish. In any case, after a few moments of silence, Convoy began to speak.

Convoy's Tale

You know the truth by now, I’m sure. Or, at least, the truth as you understand it. The thirteen who called themselves Primes were not demigods created by Primus to carry out his will; rather, they were simply the last thirteen left after so many others had fallen to their own hubris. The alliance they held was a fragile one at best and one that quickly fell apart thanks to the machinations of Liege Maximo and his accomplice Megatronus.

But little is spoken of the time that preceded the Thirteen; the era which people today remember as the Age of Wrath. After the departure of the Knights of Cybertron, the five-faced aliens who called themselves the Builders arrived, claiming to have been sent from the heavens to protect Cybertron in the absence of the Knights. This was a lie, of course, and they used this deception to bring our race to heel, turning us into slaves for labor.

What no one realized at the time… no one save for a select few… was that this was not the first time the “Builders” had been to Cybertron.

You know about the legend of the Guiding Hand, yes? A pantheon of five gods created from Primus himself? Well, as I’m sure you realize by now, there is truth in that legend. The Builders created Primus as a combiner made up of five components. Four of them were given the names Adaptus, Epistemus, Mortilus, and Solomus. The fifth component — who you know as Rung — was never named. His sole purpose was keep the other four connected and to eventually create the Matrix of Leadership.

Not long after, Cybertron’s twelve hot spots were ignited, bringing forth the first generation of Transformers. This generation — led by twelve who called themselves “the Covenant” — were what became known as the Knights of Cybertron. Under the guidance of the Guiding Hand, the Knights built the civilization that all Cybertronians live in today. The Builders had departed from Cybertron by this point, for reasons that I am not clear on.

Alas, like the legends that were based on them, the alliance between the Guiding Hand did not last. However, it was not Mortilus who turned against the others, but rather Adaptus. It was Adaptus’ belief that the Cybertronians needed to make their mark on the rest of the universe so as to be respected as the metal giants that they were. The others objected to this, advocating that they remain peaceful and isolated from the rest of the universe. Outvoted and outnumbered, Adaptus fled from Cybertron to one of its two moons. There, he fired a weapon on Cybertron that erased the memories of everyone dwelling on the planet, forcing them to forget about the Guiding Hand and for the remaining “gods” to forget their own identities.

Life went on as normal, with the Knights leading Cybertron in place of the now-amnesiac Guiding Hand, who ended up creating new identities for themselves. Mortilus took on the name Censere, who you may know as the Necrobot. Solomus named himself Tyrest after one of the first cities the Knights had constructed. Epistemus was christened Oculus, and Rung… well, you already know him well enough, I’m sure. Only Adaptus remembered who he was as he observed the rest of his race from afar, while he tasked the newborn natives of Luna 1 — Lunarians, as he dubbed them — with building a set of engines to make the moon mobile.

Realizing what had happened, the Builders returned to Cybertron and quickly subjugated the planet. It would be another five hundred years before we were finally able to overthrow them and drive them off of Cybertron. By that point, Adaptus’ minions had finished their work and Luna 1 disappeared from orbit. I know not to where he had departed, and Liege Maximo was not willing to divulge that knowledge to me.

Of course, the Builders’ hadn’t truly left. One of the Primes — Quintus Prime — was in fact another one of their creations and through her they continued to manipulate the Cybertronian race for their own schemes. Everything that happened from that point onward — from the War of the Primes to orchestrating the return of the Chaos Bringer — all leads back to the Builders and their attempts at bringing the Cybertronian race back under their control. They wanted to break us, to bring us to our lowest point as a society, to make us so vulnerable that we wouldn’t stand a fighting chance when they eventually returned.

What we’re dealing with now — Primus and this God Gun of his — is their last ditch effort. From what I have gathered from Liege Maximo, the Builders had for the most part ignored Adaptus and his work as the Grand Architect. They had no faith in him actually getting this far. But with Quintus Prime and Unicron gone, they pretty much have all their money on him. I’m not quite sure what Primus’ endgame entails… but I doubt it can be anything good.

Bottom line is… everything we’ve done… everything anyone has done… has all been part of the Quintessons’ game. Name one major event in the past ten, hundred, even thousand years and you can tie it all back to them. Never for a moment have we been truly freed from their rule.

The Age of Wrath never ended, Rodimus Prime. We are still living in it.

*  *  *

Convoy fell silent, his tale finished. Rodimus Prime sat in silence, still taking in what the older Prime had just told him. While it had answered his initial questions, it had also brought up a dozen others. Not wanting to press Convoy for information that he likely did not have, Rodimus instead decided to shift focus to more present matters at hand.

“We need to get out of here and rescue the others,” he said quietly.

“And how exactly do you propose we do that?” Convoy asked. “We can’t exactly pull off the trick we did last time.”

Before Rodimus could reply, he heard someone approach their cell. He looked through the bars to see a tentacled figure with an oblong head flanked by a pair of Allicon guards. The Quintesson Prosecutor had a sinister grin on his face as he regarded the two captive Primes with a mocking look.

“My apologies for keeping you waiting,” said the Prosecutor. “We have been preoccupied with our current series of trials. Two hundred prisoners is a lot to go through, you know.”

Rodimus Prime scowled as he got up to his feet, storming up until he was face-to-face with the Quintesson, with only the bars of the cell separating them. “As the current Matrix-bearer and leader of Cybertron, you Quintessons holding me captive isn’t exactly a good look for you.”

“Ah, but you do not currently carry the Matrix, do you?” the Prosecutor said snidely. “Therefore, you have no more authority than the average grunt. Not that you had much authority to begin with.”

Rodimus gripped the cell bars, glaring at the tentacled alien. “I demand to speak with whoever is in charge. I don’t care if it’s Primus, Liege Maximo, or one of your five-faced judges. I need to see someone.”

“And exactly what is it you hope to accomplish by speaking with them? Doing so will not change the outcome of your sentence.”

“So, what, I don’t even get a lawyer? Some justice system this is.”

“Seeing as how one-fifth of your beloved creator is a former Chief Justice, the odds were never in your favor to begin with.” The Prosecutor then made a gesture and one of the Allicons pulled the cell door open. Before either Rodimus or Convoy could make a move, the other guard pressed a switch on a remote control, causing energy rings to suddenly appear and wrap around the two Primes, binding them tightly.

“As it so happens, however, your presence is called for elsewhere,” the Prosecutor went on. “Who knows? You might just get your wish.”

As the two of them were dragged away by the Allicons, Rodimus glanced over at Convoy. “How worried do you think we should be about this?” he whispered.

“If you have to ask,” Convoy replied, “you already know.”

Bionicle Alternatives: Altered Legends I, Chapter Two

 CHAPTER TWO

“So, we’re down how many Matoran spheres?”

“I counted at least twelve,” said Nuju as he and the other Toa Metru walked out of the Coliseum. “There could still be more.”

“And just how are going to look for them?” asked Onewa. “We have no idea who’s taken them or to where. We have absolutely nothing to go off of.”

“They couldn’t have gotten far,” Nokama pointed out. “They must still be in Metru Nui, unless they’ve found transportation.”

“Or they brought their own.”

Vakama brought the group to a stop at the gates to the Coliseum, turning around to face them. “All right,” he said. “Clearly we’re going to need to split up if we hope to cover enough ground and find whoever’s stolen the Matoran before it’s too late. I suggest we break off into pairs and head to each metru. Onewa and I will go to Po-Metru to rescue Turaga Dume. Whenua, Nuju, you two will head to Onu-Metru; if there’s any good place for hiding Matoran, it would be the Archives.”

“That leaves me with the lovely water-maiden!” Matau said with a wide grin. Nokama simply regarded with a weary expression.

“You two will head to Ga-Metru,” said Vakama. “Maybe you can find something at the Great Temple. We’ll meet back here in two hours.”

“And if any of us run into trouble?” Whenua asked.

“Then we’ll know where to find each other.”

Onewa shrugged. “Works for me. Let’s get going.”

Nokama looked as if she was about to say something but, seeing that the others were already heading off for their respective destinations, decided against it. “Very well,” she said quietly, turning to leave with Matau. “May the Great Spirit guide us.”

*  *  *

From afar, two sets of eyes watched from the shadows as the six Toa went their separate ways. One of the two beings leaned forward, flexing their claws as they bared a vicious set of teeth.

“That must be them. The Toa who killed Krekka and Nidhiki.”

“Must be,” said his companion.

“Shall we deal with them now?”

“And ruin the fun before it’s even begun? You must be new to this, my friend.”

The first being glared at the other one. “I’ve been at this just as long as you have, if not longer.”

The other being chuckled. “Then you should know that the thrill of the hunt is the most exciting part, and makes the final catch all that more satisfying.”

“Fine,” the first being acquiesced, though he did not sound all too happy about it. “So which ones do we go after first?”

“Let’s see.” The other one brought out a powerless Kanoka disk and flipped it. “Of course they had to split up into three groups instead of two. Odd numbers always makes these decisions more difficult.”

“I don’t see why you even have to do that. Just make up your mind and—”

“Tails.” The other being loaded up their projectile weapon. “We go after the red one.”

Onu-Metru, sometime later

“You know, I was really hoping I would never have to come back here.”

Whenua glanced at Nuju as the two of them stepped through the ruins of Onu-Metru, approaching the entrance to the Archives. By this time, he was well aware of the Toa of Ice’s distaste for revisiting the past, which was pretty much the essence of the Archives themselves. As a former Ko-Matoran scholar, Nuju was instead more focused on the future and had no interest in looking back at what had come before. After countless disagreements, Whenua had given up on trying to change his mind.

Still, Whenua couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy himself about returning to the Archives. Due to the Cataclysm, the Rahi that it had once contained were sure to have been let loose and were either roaming the city or still dwelling in the underground levels beneath Onu-Metru. Not knowing what dangers awaited them, the two Toa would need to proceed with intense caution.

Upon reaching the entrance to the Archives complex, the door to which had fallen off, Whenua activated his mask power and cast a light into the dark room. Abandoned tools and materials lay scattered across the floor of the lobby. Whenua shuddered at the eerie sight, knowing that mere days ago Onu-Matoran that he had considered to be his friends had been working here only to be abruptly recalled by the false Turaga Dume, who had lured them to the predicament all of the Matoran were currently in. He didn’t believe he had ever seen the Archives this empty and quiet before.

The two Toa Metru soon reached the first of the vast Archives’ many levels. Even with Whenua’s Mask of Night Vision still on, it was difficult to navigate through the darkness.

“I really hope we don’t run into any old friends here,” Nuju muttered.

“Old friends?” Whenua asked.

“You know what I’m talking about. Like that mutant Ussal crab. Or that shapeshifting room. Or even that two-headed Tarakava. Where do you Archivists even find things like that?”

“Most of the time, others find them for us. Our job is just to preserve them and make sure they don’t cause any more harm… or that others don’t cause harm to them.”

Nuju scoffed. “If you really want to make sure of that, then I say just find some way to dispose of them.”

At this, Whenua stopped and turned to face Nuju. The Toa of Ice shielded his eyes as his brother’s mask glowed in his face.

“How can you say something like that?” Whenua snapped. “Rahi are living creatures, just like us!”

Nuju shook his head. “Not like us. They’re just savage beasts that can’t tell a Matoran apart from its dinner. They— for Mata Nui’s sake, will you shine that light somewhere else?”

Scowling, Whenua turned his back to the Toa of Ice, still fuming over his words. “They’re still alive. They still have thoughts and emotions, like us. Just because they’re more primitive or ‘simple’ than us doesn’t mean we can just rob them of their lives like that.”

“But when a Rahi turns out to be so dangerous to the livelihoods of others that it can barely be tamed, what does that tell you?”

Whenua did not have an answer for that. “Let’s just focus on the mission,” he muttered instead as he pressed onward.

The further along they went down the corridor, the more unsettled Whenua felt with how… quiet everything was. He knew why it was quiet, and would probably be more bothered if things weren’t quiet as it would have meant that they weren’t alone. But since Vakama had deduced that they were, in fact, not alone made the silence that more eerie and unsettling. The fact that they had yet to come across any wild Rahi yet did not make him feel better.

“Do you think the Rahi are hiding from us?” Whenua wondered aloud. “Would explain why they haven’t come out to greet us — kindly or otherwise.”

Nuju did not answer him.

Whenua rolled his eyes. “Look, we’ve had disagreements over things before. There’s no need to act petulant over this one. Surely the Matoran matter more than this.”

Still, the Toa of Ice said nothing.

The Toa of Earth huffed as he turned around, not caring if Nuju complained about the brightness from his mask. “Come on, don’t act so—”

He immediately stopped talking when he realized that Nuju was no longer standing behind him. Looking around, he could see no opening that the Toa of Ice could have gone through or fallen.

“Nuju?” he called out, brandishing his Earthshock Drills as he scanned the space before him with the light from his mask. “Where are you?”

He heard movement behind him and he turned around, expecting to see Nuju safe and sound. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of a tall, gangling being with thin, wiry limbs. Their armor was a mismatch of silver and gold over dark blue and green. Red eyes glowed from their large crowned head, staring down at Whenua with a look of contempt.

The Toa of Earth stepped back, raising his tools defensively. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“Not so loud,” groaned the other being, sounding more annoyed than angry.

Before Whenua could make a move, he felt something hard strike him in the back and he instantly seized up, unable to move. He then felt something — or someone — rob him of his tools as the wiry being in front of him stepped forward to grab him.

“That’s two of them down,” it said. “How many more to go?”

“Not enough, for my liking,” said another being, one Whenua could not see as the wiry one picked him up and slung him over his shoulder. “I’m already starting to enjoy this.”

“Let’s wait until the others report back. If we don’t hear from them in the next couple of hours, then we join in on the hunt.”

Unable to so much as whisper, Whenua could only listen to his own mind scream as the Dark Hunters carried him into the depths of the Archives.

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIV, Chapter Two

 CHAPTER TWO

Cybertron

“Fort Max, I love you, buddy, but you’re really making this difficult.”

The Titan was silent as Cerebros stood at the controls to the space bridge, which had pretty much become Cerebros’ primary working station ever since Rodimus Prime disappeared through it. According to the former councilor Obsidian, the other Titan the space bridge had been linked to at the moment of the incident had been Carcer, the mobile colony of Liege Maximo. However, something was preventing Cerebros from linking the bridge with Carcer’s again; whether it was Fort Max or Carcer’s doing, or that of someone else, he had no idea. It also did not help that Obsidian had been among the Decepticons who had defected and rejoined Megatron….

Groaning in frustration, Cerebros turned away from the controls to face the other bots in the room. Sentinel Major — better known to Cerebros as the Titan Master Infinitus — stood at the back with his arms folded over his chest. With him was the Titan Master known as Sovereign, who had been behind the incident that had saved Cerebros and Infinitus from certain death. He had also been responsible for the plot to abduct several Autobots and Decepticons to some less than moral ends, but that was apparently water under the bridge now given that the Titan Masters were now aligned with the Autobots in handling the current situation.

Deciding it was best to focus on the present rather than the past, Cerebros said to Sovereign, “He’s been unresponsive ever since the incident. His systems are still online and his vitals are strong and positive, so I know that nothing is wrong with him, at least not physically.”

“You don’t think he might be under the Quintessons’ control again, like last time?” asked Infinitus.

Cerebros shook his head. “I mean, I wouldn’t completely rule it out, but I highly doubt that to be the case. It’s been days and he hasn’t done anything to make me suspect that. Or anything period.” 

Sovereign stepped forward, regarding the controls to the space bridge with an inquisitive expression. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

Cerebros hesitated briefly before stepping aside. “Be my guest.”

He watched Sovereign carefully as the Titan Master stepped up to the controls. For a moment, he simply stood there and stared at them, rubbing his chin as if deep in thought. He then started to go to work, his hands dancing across the instrument panel as he pressed and flipped random buttons and switches.

“What the hell are you doing?” Cerebros asked.

“Quiet,” Sovereign hissed. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Could have fooled me.” Cerebros glanced at Infinitus, who was watching Sovereign with a scrutinizing expression. “Do you know what he’s doing?”

Infinitus said nothing, keeping quiet even as Sovereign finally stopped and stepped away from the control panel. At that moment, a holographic image projected itself in front of the trio, displaying what appeared to be a list of names.

“What… what is this?” asked Cerebros, his voice quiet.

“As I’m sure you know, every Titan is linked to one another by their space bridge,” Sovereign replied. “This is a list of every Titan currently in existence and therefore linked to Fortress Maximus’ space bridge.”

“Okay,” Infinitus said. “So why are you showing us this? We already know which Titan Rodimus Prime was sent to. It was Carcer — or Vigilem, rather.”

“I wasn’t finished. A Titan can only connect to another’s space bridge if that Titan is still functional. Now, the space bridge may still be operational even if the Titan’s spark is extinguished….”

“Such as with Metroplex,” Cerebros pointed out.

“Correct. However, if the Titan or their space bridge has been completely destroyed, then there’s no way to reach them.”

“What are you saying then?” Infinitus asked.

Sovereign moved his hand over the projection, sorting the names of the Titans by alphabetical order and bringing the list down to the V’s. In the spot where Vigilem’s name would have been was a very conspicuous absence.

“Oh, slag,” Cerebros swore.

“Clearly,” Sovereign said quietly, “Liege Maximo is willing to sacrifice his own Titan in order to ensure nobody reaches him or Rodimus Prime.”

Infinitus gestured to the list. “What about the other Titans? I think Windblade said that a couple had gone with the Primes who were hunting for Liege Maximo.”

“Yes, Metrotitan and Brave Maximus,” Cerebros supplied. “Although I believe Brave Maximus was recently reported to have been found on one of Earth’s neighboring planets.”

Sovereign scrolled through the list again. “Metrotitan and Brave Maximus are both still online and operational,” he reported. “Although I doubt it would be safe to access their space bridges without knowing what’s on the other side.”

“In any case, we should inform Dai Atlas about this,” said Cerebros. “Thank you for your help, you two.”

“No problem,” Infinitus said, turning to leave. He looked back over to Sovereign, who was still staring at the list. “Are you coming, Sovereign?”

“Just a minute,” Sovereign said, sounding slightly shaken. “There’s a name on here that… that shouldn’t be here.”

“What name?” Cerebros asked, looking at the list. Before he even had a chance to read it, Sovereign made the hologram vanish before turning on his heel and hastily departing from the room, pushing past Infinitus on his way out. After he had gone, Infinitus glanced over at Cerebros, who shared his look of concern and confusion.

“Should we go after him?” Infinitus asked.

“You go on ahead,” Cerebros replied. “I’ll send a report to Dai Atlas and the remaining council members.”

“You don’t know whose name it was he saw?”

Cerebros shook his head. “You would have to ask him.”

“Yeah,” Infinitus muttered, looking in the direction Sovereign had ran off in. “I don’t think that’s gonna be an easy task….”

Maccadam’s Old Oil House

“Uh… just how many of those are you gonna drink?”

“As many as I damn want,” growled Toxitron as he slammed down his fifteenth can of unleaded oil onto the counter. “Now shove it up your tailpipe before I do it for you.”

“Okay, okay!” The bot that had been sitting next to Toxitron got down from his stool and walked away. “Sheesh, some people….”

Satisfied that he was finally alone at the counter (save for the tired bartender), Toxitron proceeded to down the rest of his fuel before tossing the now-empty can onto the growing pile of others. “Get me another one.”

“You better be paying for all this,” the bartender said bitterly as he slid a sixteenth can across the counter.

Toxitron said nothing as he grabbed the can and began to guzzle it down as he had all the others. By now, most bots would have shut down at this point if not ten cans ago. But Toxitron was not like most bots. In fact, he didn’t even know what he was. Autobot clone? Decepticon experiment? Wrecker? With Impactor dead and gone, he wasn’t even sure about that last one. Springer certainly hadn’t approached him for an official membership. Since coming back to Cybertron, everyone had pretty much ignored him, most likely because of his nauseous smell which he still had no idea how to get rid of.

At the back of his mind, he could hear the words that the femme back on Mars had said about him; about who he used to be. Battle Convoy. That was his name, I believe, before we remade him.

He took another swig from the can, hoping to drown out the words once and for all. He hated hearing them. He wish he had never heard them in the first place. The very last thing he needed was an identity crisis.

Before we remade him.

“I think that’s enough, don’t you think?”

Toxitron slammed the can down and spun in his seat to glower at the yellow and blue bot that had appeared next to him. “FRAG OFF!”

“Hi to you, too,” Punch said dryly. He looked over to the pile of cans that had accumulated on the counter. “Sweet Primus, how many have you had tonight?”

“Not enough.”

“I’d say it’s more than enough.” Punch reached over to grab the can Toxitron was holding but thought better of it when the green and purple Optimus clone gave him a dirty look. Instead, he took a seat on the stool next to Toxitron’s, taking the place of the bot that had bothered him earlier.

“Listen,” the former double agent said, lowering his voice. “I’m trying to get to the bottom of something and I need your help.”

“What if I don’t want to help you?” Toxitron grunted.

“You have to. Because it involves you.”

Toxitron tightened his grip on his can, creating large dents around it. “And if I don’t want to be involved?”

Punch huffed in frustration, exasperated with Toxitron’s difficult nature. “Look, you remember when you were captured by Archforce and the other back on Mars, right? And that bot — Plasma or whatever her name was — said that you used to be named ‘Battle Convoy,’ right?”

Without warning, Toxitron got up from his seat and hurled his can over the counter. The bartender barely ducked in time to avoid it and it hit the wall, sending oil spilling everywhere.

“Hey!” the bartender exclaimed. “If you’re gonna start throwing a tantrum, then I don’t want you in here!”

Ignoring him, Toxitron whirled on Punch, his eyes glowing with rage. “Don’t ever speak that name to me again! It means nothing to me!”

“Evidently not, by the way you’re acting,” Punch said wryly.

“Shut up!” Toxitron swept his arm across the counter and sent all of the empty cans clattering to the floor. “Just shut up! I don’t ever want to hear that name again! Just shut up!”

Punch glanced at the bartender, who was giving both him and Toxitron a withering look.

“You’d better drag your friend out of here,” the teal-plated bot said gravely to him. “Before I call someone in to drag both of you out.”

Punch sighed as he carefully stepped up to Toxitron. “Come on, pal. Let’s take this outside.”

Toxitron’s response was to grab him by the neck and hurl him over the counter, sending him crashing into the bartender. As the two of them fell, Punch heard what sounded like a button or a switch being pressed, followed by a loud clunk. Before he could discern what it had been, the bartender immediately pushed him off and pulled him up to his feet.

“You two need to get out of here,” the bartender hissed into his audio receptor. “Now.”

Behind him, Punch could hear Toxitron scuffling with the bouncer. Jumping back over the counter, he moved in to break up the fight. “All right, that’s enough, Toxitron,” he muttered. “Let’s get out of here.”

Not listening to him, Toxitron threw a fist into the bouncer bot’s face. This was apparently enough to send the bot crumpling to the floor. The bar went silent as Punch stood over the motionless bot, unsure if they had just been knocked offline or worse.

The noise he had heard earlier sounded again. He turned in the direction of the bar to see a large figure emerging from a door behind the counter, coming up to stand beside the bartender. The newcomer had a stocky build, looking short yet bulky at the same time. His orange and dark gray plating looked worn from the passing of time, with faint scratches and dents indicating that he had been in battle once upon a time, somewhere in the distant past. His face, bespectacled by a pair of circular blue optics, was calm and cordial as he regarded the patrons of his bar — specifically Toxitron and Punch — as if they hadn’t just been fighting in his establishment.

“What appears to be the matter here, Ebrius?” he said calmly, as if he was asking about the weather.

“Maccadam,” the bartender said quietly. “I… I’m sorry if the ruckus disturbed you from your work.”

“Not at all,” Maccadam said cheerfully, patting Ebrius on the back. “Although it did grab my attention.” He focused his gaze on Toxitron and Punch, both who were staring in awe at the fabled owner of the Old Oil House. “How may I be of service to you two?”

“Oh, uh, we were just leaving,” said Punch. “My friend here got a little inebriated and—”

“I know what you are trying to do, Punch of Harmonex,” Maccadam interjected, a mischievous gleam in his optics. “I can help you.”

The double agent stared at him, taken aback. “How… how do you know my name?”

“The same way I know who your friend used to be; who he is trying so desperately to forget.” Maccadam made a gesture with his hand, motioning the pair to follow him. “Come with me. I have the answers you seek.”

Without waiting for them, Maccadam vanished through the door he had entered from, though he left it open for the two Autobots. Punch exchanged an uncertain glance with Toxitron before stepping around the counter and heading in, with Toxitron trailing close behind.

I know it’s cliche for bartenders to somehow know everything, Punch thought to himself. But this is ridiculous.