TWO: BRUTE FORCE
Cresta Superior
“Well, that sucks.”
Blast Off glanced at his fellow Combaticon Brawl as they disembarked from the shuttle onto the surface of Cresta Superior. “What does?”
“I was hoping to blow scrap up but it looks like someone already beat us to it.”
Blast Off looked over to survey the scene in front of them. Indeed, the city of Tykkam was more or less in complete ruin, with practically nothing left in tact. Skyscrapers that once touched the sky were now no taller than they were; residences had been reduced to little more than dust; organic bodies in various states of dismemberment littered the torn up streets. It was a sight that the Combaticons were used to, but they usually only saw it after they were done with a battle, not before.
And it usually took an entire army to create such a scene. For one being to be capable of such destruction… to say Blast Off was a bit nervous about what awaited him would have been an understatement, but he did not dare voice such concerns aloud to his comrades.
Onslaught, the leader of the Combaticons, knelt down to study the rubble and corpses a bit more closely, although Blast Off wasn’t sure what sort of information he was trying to glean from doing so.
“Yes,” Onslaught eventually said, rising back to his full height. “This is definitely the work of a Destructon. I would recognize it anywhere.”
Swindle put his hands on his hips as he looked up at his commander, giving Onslaught a skeptical look. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”
“Because I fought in the first war against the Destructons. I have seen what these monstrosities are capable of. This is exactly the type of destruction they leave in their wake.”
Swindle frowned as he looked back at the scene. “Even just one of them?”
“Especially just one of them.”
“Shame they aren’t on our side,” said Brawl. “We could use mechs like them against the Autobots.”
Vortex raised and stretched out his arms, working out the kinks in his armor plating. “Well, no sense in wasting any more time. Let’s merge and—”
“No,” Onslaught cut him off sharply. “We need to make sure they’re even here; otherwise we would just be wasting energon. We need to lure them out.”
“With what bait?” asked Blast Off.
Onslaught turned pointedly to Swindle and the yellow and purple mech sighed. “Right,” he muttered. “I was wondering why you wanted me to carry them out here.”
He reached into one of his compartments and brought out a small cage. He set it down on the ground, keyed open the latch, and the box opened up to reveal several minuscule Transformers within.
“Mini-Cons?” Vortex exclaimed. “I didn’t know we had Mini-Cons around.”
“Swindle gathered a collection of them during his exploits on Hedonia,” said Onslaught. “I imagine they will be put to better use here than whatever he had planned for them there.”
Swindle rolled his optics but did not rise to the bait.
Returning his attention to the Mini-Cons, he pointed in the direction of Tykkam’s ruins. “You already have your orders. Now go, and do your Empire proud!”
Placed in no position to argue, the Mini-Cons converted to their alternate modes—transforming into a wide range of military vehicles, both land and air-based—and set out for the derelict landscape ahead.
* * *
It had been a long time since Bombshock had felt humiliation.
His defeat at Styx when he had been under Thunderwing’s command had probably been the last time he had felt such shame, although the disaster during the Cataclysm was up there (granted, everyone had suffered from that). It was in part because of these failures that he—as well as several under his command—had returned to the Mini-Con bodies they had been forged with, while the other part had been at Shockwave’s behest as an effort to preserve energon in the wake of the Cataclysm.
Not all of his teammates had followed suit. Dropshot had stubbornly stuck with his larger body, and ultimately paid the price for it when Galvatron obliterated him. Thankfully, Growl and Tracer had stuck around and remained by his side, sticking with him through thick and thin.
When they came into contact with Mini-Con survivors from Prion and Cybertron, Bombshock saw an opportunity to expand his ranks and make a difference, opening up a new front for the Decepticons to fight on. But then Swindle—who had led Bombshock to these survivors in the first place—had double-crossed him and instead threw them all into cages, seeking to making a profit from organic slavers on Hedonia. That had been the start of the humiliation, and it only got worse when Swindle was forced to rejoin the rest of the Decepticons, bringing them with him so they could continue to serve as slaves to Megatron.
Now, here he was—once an honored Decepticon commander, now serving as cannon fodder. It was not a fate he would have wished on anyone, not even his worse enemies.
Still, he would treat it as any other operation. He would lie and tell himself that he was simply following orders and that this was just like any other mission, one that wasn’t all but certain to see to his and his soldiers’ deaths.
He had to, as otherwise he would not be able to even function properly.
“Tracer, Run-Over, you’re on aerial recon,” he barked up to the black helicopter and tan jet flying overhead. “Scout ahead and see if there’s any sign of the Destructons. Keep in mind that we’re looking for Medusa specifically, given that this is her turf, but she could have brought her friends along as well.”
“Roger that,” Tracer said as she moved forward. Run-Over tagged alongside her, rambling nonsense words from some Terran entertainment program he had somehow picked up.
Rolling alongside him in his orange ATV mode, Growl said, “What are the odds that this is just gonna be a suicide mission?”
“Quiet,” Bombshock snapped. “Focus on the task, worry about the details later.” I don’t need you voicing my thoughts….
For a moment, Bombshock lost track of the two fliers as they vanished behind the remains of a collapsed watchtower. A few minutes later, the two came zipping back—this time with Run-Over ahead of Tracer as he kicked on his thrusters.
“We found her we found her we found her—!” Tracer was crying out.
On cue, a massive (from Bombshock’s perspective) mechanical form emerged from the ruins of the tower. Covered in black and green armor plating, with sleek silver coating in places that seemed to reflect organic skin, Medusa slithered out into the open, bloodied blades attached to each of her arms. Her red eyes flashed fiercely as she laid them on the approaching Mini-Cons and a metal tongue extended from her open mouth as she let out a deafening hiss.
“Everyone, open fire!” Bombshock barked.
Everyone did as he ordered, but as he expected their firepower was of no use on the Destructon. Their pellets and plasma bolts bounced harmlessly off her armor as she lashed out, leaping up in the air and lunging forward with her arm blades pointed at the ground. Most of the Mini-Cons managed to scurry out of the way, although Growl wasn’t fast enough and Medusa’s blade went straight through the middle of his alternate mode.
Bombshock did not have time to dwell on the loss of his comrade. He continued to bark out orders, futile as they might have been, as he continued to zip around the battlefield, squeezing out as many shots as he could. Tracer and Run-Over rejoined the fight, now joined by the rest of Run-Over’s patrol. Wind-Sheer and Thunder-Clash fired off rockets, which had more of an impact than the rest of their artillery. Medusa recoiled from the assault, releasing an annoyed hiss, and she turned her attention to the airborne Mini-Cons.
“Now! While she’s distracted!” Bombshock called out. “Give her everything you’ve got!”
They certainly did, bless their sparks, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough. Even Cannon and Thunder’s tank barrels barely left a scratch on her armor plating. Medusa swung an arm at the flying Mini-Cons; Run-Over was knocked into Thunder-Clash and the two went plummeting towards the ground. Wind-Sheer and Tracer managed to get out of the way, but Cloud Raker wasn’t so fortunate, being sliced down the middle by one of Medusa’s blades.
As the carnage continued to unfold around him, Bombshock spotted one of the fliers—the black and purple Whisper—breaking away from the attack and flying down to the ground, transforming to robot mode as he landed beside Bombshock.
“This is pointless,” Whisper hissed, his tone ever quiet yet still deadly. “We need to retreat.”
“No,” Bombshock snapped, remaining in vehicle mode as he continued firing his turret at Medusa. “Onslaught has not given the order—”
“Then you give the order. You’re the one in command here; I don’t see Onslaught joining in this fight.”
“There is a certain chain of command here, Whisper, and I intend to respect it. As should you.”
Whisper narrowed his eyes. “Then perhaps there should be a little shake-up in the chain of command. If you won’t give the order, then I will.”
This got Bombshock to convert to robot mode and he whirled on Whisper with an incensed look. “You will do no such thing! I’m in command here! You will follow my orders or else—”
“Or else what?” Whisper sneered. “Face a court-martial? As if Megatron would waste his time on that, especially with us Mini-Cons. He doesn’t care about us, Bombshock. None of them do. That’s why we’re even in this mess, dying by the truckload!”
“Nonsense! We’re still holding up, despite the odds.”
As he said this, the remains of a Mini-Con flier whose name escaped him landed behind Bombshock. Their exposed chest sparked and sizzled as the light vanished from their optics.
Whisper sniffed derisively. “Yeah, sure.” Raising a hand to his comm, he said, “All patrols, this is Whisper. I am giving the order to retreat. Bombshock here has been mentally incapacitated. If you would rather stay and die, then be my guest.”
Bombshock let out an angry snarl but Whisper jumped out of the way, flipping back into his jet mode as he took off. Above and around him, several of the other Mini-Cons followed after him, jumping at the first opportunity that had been given to them to escape death. Bombshock looked to see if Tracer was among them, only for his vision to be blocked by a large shadowy shape.
He looked up into Medusa’s baleful red optics and found himself rooted to the ground, unable to move no matter how hard he tried to will his servos. The last thing he saw was the scarlet gleam of Medusa’s arm blade as it came down on him.
* * *
“Huh,” Vortex said, watching as the surviving Mini-Cons scattered and retreated from their fight with Medusa. “You sure kept them going there.”
Onslaught shrugged. “I will admit, they lasted longer than I expected. But, they’ve served their purpose. The distraction has been made. Now, we make our move.”
Brawl rubbed his hands together, giddy with excitement. “Does that mean…?”
“Yes.” Onslaught held his head up high. “Combaticons… merge into Bruticus!”
Brawl and Swindle stood together as they compacted their bodies into the shape of legs. Onslaught jumped up into the air, shifting his own body as his legs linked up with their new forms. Blast Off and Vortex flew up in their alternate modes, unfurling into arms as they replaced their commander’s. A silver winged plate folded out onto Onslaught’s chest as his head was replaced with a massive chrome cranium. The five minds of the Combaticons linked up…
…and Bruticus opened his eyes.
A rush of thoughts and conflicting personalities surged through his processor. Onslaught’s keen and tactical mind was at the forefront at first, trying to keep them all focused on the task at hand. But why should Blast Off listen to anyone? He was so much better than everyone else, after all. And Swindle was having a hard time in seeing the profitability of this whole mess; the dollar signs just weren’t there. But then Bruticus looked down at his target, the one they called Medusa, and Vortex was excited to see how she would look after they had torn her apart and Brawl just wanted to smash smash smash—
“SMASH!” Bruticus roared as he brought a massive fist down towards the ground.
Medusa slithered out of the way as the combiner’s giant fist came down, leaving a small crater behind in its wake. Bruticus’s optics followed the serpentine machine as she snaked around and slashed at the back of his legs. Grunting in pain, Bruticus tried to move around in order to catch the Destructon but his movements were too slow and hers too fast.
“Stay… still!” he growled in frustration as Medusa continued to circle around him, laughing like a child playing with a toy.
Onslaught tried to get the gestalt mind of Bruticus to focus, but the Destructon’s shrill laughter only further enraged the Brawl and Vortex within him. Bruticus began punching the ground, desperately trying to grab at the mechanical serpent. Finally, he managed to get a hold of her tail and he hoisted her up in air, taking great delight from her startled shriek as he dangled her in front of his face.
“No more games!” Bruticus thundered. “Now you die!”
At this, Medusa’s look of surprise morphed into a smug expression, a sinister smile gracing her lips. “Oh, no,” she hissed. “I believe it is you who will die.”
“Ha! Fat chance!” With his other hand, Bruticus pinched the Destructon’s head between his thumb and index finger. He then started to pull on Medusa’s tail, eager to see all of her innards spill out as he tore her in half—
A blunt force struck him in the back of the head, causing Bruticus to drop Medusa and fall onto one knee. He was struck again in the legs, causing him to fall backwards, shaking the ground as he landed on his back. He lifted his head up to see what had caused his fall and watched as Medusa slithered up onto his chest, now joined by a second, larger mechanoid. Armored in gray and gold with spikes protruding from his shoulder pads, the Destructon known as Bruton hefted his club over his shoulder, ready to deliver another blow.
“Dumb robots die now,” Bruton chuckled.
Before he could bring his club down on Bruticus’s head, the combiner lifted his left arm—the one formed by Vortex—and swatted the two Destructons off his chest. At the same time, he activated Vortex’s rotor blades, angling it so that it was positioned to saw anything in its path.
Medusa and Bruton retreated in separate directions. Bruticus followed the former with his rotor blades while firing Onslaught’s gun at Bruton. One shot managed to catch Bruton in the leg, causing him to trip and fall face-first onto the ground.
Bruticus laughed at his plight, which only took his attention away from Medusa. The serpentine Destructon turned and lunged at him, ducking under his arm rotors to slash at his knees with her blades. The move disconnected Brawl and Swindle from the rest of the combiner, and they collapsed to the ground in their robot modes.
Without Brawl’s fury centering them (as well as the sudden lack of legs disorienting them), the rest of the Combaticons disconnected from each other and joined their comrades on the ground. Medusa slithered past them to rejoin Bruton, who got back onto his feet and regarded the five Decepticons with a baleful look.
“What are we waiting for? Let’s finish them.”
“No,” Medusa hissed. “You know our orders. Their time will come.”
“But they’re right here!” Bruton protested. “Let’s just—”
“No! They took the bait and sprung our trap. We made our move. Now they must make theirs.”
Bruton continued to grumble as Medusa linked arms with him. In a flash of light, the two were gone as they teleported away.
All was still as the five Combaticons laid there in defeat. Once they were sure the coast was clear, the handful of the surviving Mini-Cons that hadn’t abandoned them came out of hiding and attended to them, all while the shadow of the Nemesis loomed over them.
* * *
“Get… off of me, you cross-wired freak….”
With a grunt, Thunder-Clash pushed Run-Over off of him, and the tan Mini-Con fell onto his rear-end. He didn’t seem to mind being pushed, still dazed from the crash.
“I bent my Wookiee,” Run-Over bemoaned, gripping his cone-shaped head.
Thunder-Clash debated whether to just rip out his teammate’s vocal processor then and there—it wasn’t as if anyone was around—but was distracted from doing so when he spotted a dark figure approaching them from the corner of his optic. He felt his spark pulsed, worried that it was the Destructon coming back to finish them off, but to his relief they were Cybertronian.
A Cybertronian that looked like Optimus Prime but in all black.
“What the…?” Thunder-Clash slowly backed up as the figure continued to approach. He turned to Run-Over and shook the other Mini-Con’s shoulder. “Uh, mate, are you seeing this?”
Run-Over lazily lifted his head up, his mouth hanging open in confusion as he tried to process what he was seeing.
“Marge, is that you?”
The dark figure raised a hand and Run-Over’s body instantly seized up. Thunder-Clash recoiled away from him as sparks began to fly out of the other Mini-Con’s mouth. When Run-Over tried to speak again—or make any sound at all—the only sound his voice box allowed him to process was a quiet hum of static.
“I’m sorry,” the dark iteration of Prime said as his black shadow enveloped the two Mini-Cons. “But I don’t need one of my new traveling companions talking like a Junkion.”
“T-traveling companions?” Thunder-Clash protested. “Hey, we didn’t sign up for any of that!”
“No, you didn’t.” The dark Prime cast his optics down at the pair, and Thunder-Clash could not stop himself from shuddering beneath the larger mech’s crimson gaze. “Now then, the two of you are going to help me in a little quest of mine. One that involves locating some friends of yours.”
“F-friends?” Thunder-Clash stammered. “You mean the ones that just left?”
The dark Prime chuckled, sending a chill through the Mini-Con’s servos. “Obviously not, or I would have already gotten them by now. No, I’m looking for a trio that has been in recent proximity to Megatron and his little army. A trio that combines to form a useful little weapon.”
Thunder-Clash perused his memory banks for anything that resembled what the dark one described, if only to prove his usefulness and not get any of his body parts ripped out like Run-Over had. Then, it hit him. “You mean the Interstellar Marauders? I hear they form the Transwarp Blaster, though I’ve never seen it in action. They ran off with Spacewarp when she decided to ditch Megatron and the rest.”
The dark Prime laughed as he clapped his hands, an action which startled Thunder-Clash. “Ah, brilliant! Brilliant work. Already you are demonstrating to me that I made the right choice to spare you specifically. Very smart.”
Thunder-Clash could only nod stiffly in response. He then hear the low hum of engines and looked up to see a starship hovering in the sky. He did not recognize the craft as being the Nemesis or any of the other ships in the Decepticons’ armada.
“Come along then,” the dark Prime said. “You may help our navigator locate where this Spacewarp and her ‘Marauders’ have ran off to.”
Knowing there would be no liberation in trying to run away, Thunder-Clash pulled Run-Over up and the two Mini-Cons converted to their jet modes as they glided alongside the Nemesis Prime known as Scourge and followed him onto the awaiting ship.
