Transformers Regenerated: Beyond Imagination V, Chapter Three

THREE: INVESTIGATIONS

Velocitron, aboard the Exitus

“Okay, well, that certainly could have gone better.”

Thunderclash stood among assembled members of his crew in the command center of the Exitus, stationed in Delta’s main spaceport. Outside, work was still being done to check on the damage that had been done from the recent attack, but at the very least all of the injured had been accounted for and being taken care of.

“Still, I suppose any good work is never without roadblocks to get over. In fact, it will make success all the more rewarding once it is inevitably achieved.” 

“Um, sir,” Aileron spoke up but Thunderclash kept speaking, focused as he was on delivering his trademark impromptu speech.

“Even as we speak, Rodimus Prime is delivering the speech of a lifetime as he ushers us into a new golden age. An age of restoration, in which we shall see the old be made new again, and the even newer made—”

“Sir!” Aileron said again, much louder this time.

Thunderclash looked down at her, a mild look of annoyance on his gold face. “What is it, Aileron? You know how I like trying to raise morale with—”

“I just got word from Earth. Someone just tried to assassinate the Prime.”

Hushed gasps rang out among those assembled; some bots even got up from where they were sitting as if ready to take action. Thunderclash’s optics went wide before his expression became grim.

“Are you sure? Do you know what the situation is there? We can set course now and—”

“They say they’ve got the situation under control for now,” Aileron said. “Rodimus Prime is in stasis lock right now but he’s stabilized and should be operational again soon. Apparently he took the brunt of the blast when… I guess someone tried to blow themselves up, based on the report I’m getting.”

Thunderclash raised a hand to his chin. “I’m sure there’s a correlation between that and what’s happening here on Velocitron. If they have things handled on Earth for now, then perhaps we should remain here until we’re certain that Mayhem and its operatives are no longer on the planet.”

“You think they were telling the truth in the broadcast then?” asked Ricochet.

“I see no reason as to why they would lie. Usually when someone makes a flash statement like this—or two—they’re remarkably quick to take credit.” Turning to Aileron, Thunderclash said, “I want you to take a team of bots into Delta and start speaking with the natives. See if you can gather any clues as to who exactly was behind the bombing here on Velocitron. And if it is Mayhem, make sure to alert me as soon as possible.”

Aileron snapped off a quick salute. “Aye aye, captain.”

“In the meantime, I will alert the other crews at the other colony worlds and make sure they stay vigilant. If Mayhem is bold enough to strike at the Prime himself, then they’re not going to stop there. They will strike again.” Thunderclash pounded his fist into his open palm. “And we’re going to stop them.”

*  *  *

“How can we call this an Age of Restoration when the stains of the past have not yet been fully vanquished?!”

Spiral pushed her way through the crowd, trying to get a better look at the mech that was speaking. It felt strange to be back in her Mini-Con body after spending centuries in the body of a full-sized Cybertronian, but it felt easier for her to move around in. It helped that, over the past few years, many lost Mini-Cons had been rescued and since relocated to Cybertron and its colonies; she now felt that she was among her own kind again, rather than forced to pretend to be something she wasn’t.

It had its downsides of course. Her sparkmate Livewire had not yet downsized to a smaller body, not being ready to make such a commitment. The new differences between their sizes had created something of a rift between them, and Spiral had found her partner becoming increasingly distant over the past year or so. She wasn’t sure if her becoming a Mini-Con again was the only reason; last year, Livewire’s old flame Strongarm had suddenly come back from the dead, which may have left her questioning where her feelings lay. 

It also didn’t help that every time they tried to find somewhere to spend time together, their peace was interrupted by some invading force, whether it be Insecticons or the Grand Architect’s forces… and now, it was this Mayhem group. It felt as if the universe did not want them together and happy…

On the bright side, her two closest friends Backtrack and Oval had also returned to their Mini-Con forms, which meant she wasn’t alone at least. She was able to spot them in the crowd and made her way over to them. Their attention was transfixed on the black and gray Mini-Con that was speaking from a podium to the assembled crowd, parroting some of the same talking points that had been espoused in the hacked broadcast from Mayhem.

“You guys aren’t actually buying into any of this, are you?” Spiral asked her two friends.

“Nah,” said Backtrack. “I’m just trying to figure out what this guy transforms into. Doesn’t look like he turns into anything speedy, that’s for sure.”

“Probably a monoformer,” said Oval. “Nothing slower than a monoformer… unless you’re a Functionist officer, then that’ll really get him running, am I right?”

“Oval, that joke would’ve been funny fifteen hundred years ago. If that.”

Spiral rubbed her chin. “Any idea what his name is?”

Backtrack shrugged. “Think he said his name was Rook or something? Doubt he’s that reporter from Cybertron, though.”

Oval chuckled. “Way he’s talking, maybe he should change his name to Crook.”

“Oval, I swear to god, I’m going to punch your lights out.”

As the Mini-Con supposedly named Rook kept on talking, spitting out belligerent rhetoric against the Prime and Velocitron’s leadership, Spiral scanned the crowd, curious to see if anyone was buying it. Some were beginning to walk away, seemingly fed up with the diatribe, while others seemed to be on the hook.

However, one Mini-Con in particular stood out to her. Clad in red and white armor plating, she, like Rook, did not appear to have any kibble indicative of a clear alternate mode. If anything, she looked more like a Cyberdroid than anything else, making Spiral wonder if she was one of those Titan Masters she had heard about.

Regardless of what she was, she seemed to be paying attention to Rook’s speech… but was not being swayed by it, if her look of concern was any indication.

As Spiral stared at the mysterious femme, trying to figure out what her deal was, she felt Backtrack tap her on the shoulder.

“Hey, wanna get away from this guff? Oval wants to check out this cosmetics shop to see if we can try out some new color schemes.”

“Uh, sure.” Spiral looked back to where the red mechanoid had been only to no longer see any sign of her. At this point, Rook’s speech had become nothing more than white noise. “Let’s go, then.”

*  *  *

“I’ve gotta say, this planet is rocking my style.”

Aileron glanced up at Hot Shot as the two of them entered Delta’s primary refueling station. It was one of the few locations they had managed to find where Velocitronians weren’t speeding around in their alternate mode; something that Hot Shot had been more than happy to do but was not something Aileron was in a mood for.

“Is that why you retrofitted your body frame?” she asked, eying his new blue, yellow and red form that matched a body-type worn by a good number of Velocitronians. It was a far cry from the bright yellow and red of his original Camien body.

“It might be.” Hot Shot looked down and winked at her. “I’ve been itching for a new style anyway. I tried a flame deco on my old body to emulate Rodimus Prime but it just… didn’t feel right. I needed something a bit more sleeker. And faster. I mean, they don’t call me Hot Shot for nothing!”

“No, they definitely call you that for something.” Aileron bit back the witty remark she wanted to make, forcing herself to focus on the mission. She scanned the crowd for anyone that might have looked open for a conversation, but a good number of them were turning their backs as soon as they saw the two Autobots. She was starting to worry that the message from Mayhem’s broadcast might have gotten to them….

As she navigated her way through the crowd of bots taller than her, Aileron did not notice the large green bot standing in her path until she bumped into their leg. She immediately backed up as apologies began to stream from her vocal processor.

“By Solus’ hammer, I am so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going and—”

The large green mech turned and glared down at Aileron, red optics glowing above a fanged jaw that was separated from the rest of his faceplate. He rolled his hands into fists that might as well have been boulders as he leaned in menacingly towards the Camien Autobot.

“Yeah? Well, if your optics are so faulty then maybe I should get rid of them for ya’!”

“Easy, ‘Zone.” A much smaller red mech appeared from around the larger green one. His green optics gleamed with mischief as they fell on Aileron and a smirk crossed his face. “I’m sure our friend here didn’t mean anything by it. But, oh dear, you just got your plating buffed, didn’t you?”

“Huh? No I did—” the green one started to say until the red jabbed him in the hip with his elbow. “I mean, uh, yeah! Yeah, I did! Now it’s all ruined!”

The red one’s smirk broadened into a grin as he planted his hands on his hips and stepped towards Aileron. “So, little miss, who do you think should pay for Crumplezone’s rebuffing appointment? I mean, between you and me, I think it would be more than fair that the blind femme that ruined it be the one to pay for it, yeah?”

“Hey!” Hot Shot stepped in between Aileron and the two Velocitronians. “Why don’t you two slag off and pick on someone your own size?”

“Uh, news flash, Autodork, but I am her size,” the red one said. “But I get it, you’re tryin’ to stand up and look tough in front of yer girlfriend. I’ve seen it all before.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m not his girlfriend,” Aileron snapped, stepping around Hot Shot to get in front of the red Velocitronian. “Second of all, I’m a ranking officer aboard the Exitus, serving directly under Captain Thunderclash himself! I don’t need to take any scrap from punks like you!”

The green one called Crumplezone chuckled, a low rumbling sound. “Wow, Ransack, looks like you’ve found one with some bite. Told ya’ these Autobots talk a big game. Remember that blue one with the one eye who visited a couple years ago?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so.” Ransack’s confident smirk began to falter as he tried to not-so-subtlety step away from Aileron and her blazing glare. “Look, uh, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. You, uh, you see, we’re just kinda stressed out from the bombing, y’know?”

Crumplezone blinked in confusion. “Wait, we are?” He clamped up when Ransack elbowed him again.

Aileron feigned a relaxed smile, still standing close to Ransack with her hands on her hips, mirroring the stance he had taken earlier. “Oh really? Well, it so happens that we’re looking for bots to question about the incident, see if we can gather any clues on who was responsible. I don’t suppose you two have seen anything or anyone suspicious around here, have you?”

“Suspicious? Us? Nope!” Ransack frantically shook his head. “Just two ordinary mechs minding our own business. Nothing suspicious going on over here.”

“Yeah!” Crumplezone chimed in. “I mean, except for that one guy who talked to us for a bit. He was pretty shady. But other than that, nothin’!”

“Oh, yeah?” Aileron asked. “And what did this ‘bot look like?”

“Uh…” Crumplezone glanced down at Ransack, who was glaring daggers back up at him. “Couldn’t tell ya’. Pretty generic lookin’ if you ask me. Plus, my memory ain’t the sharpest…”

Hot Shot took a step closer. “Well, maybe you two should think really hard about what he looked like. Otherwise, we might have to bring you to Override and see if she can—”

“His name was Breakdown!” Ransack blurted out. “Big blue bot with an orange face. That’s all I can tell you!”

“Breakdown, huh?” Aileron said. “And what did this Breakdown want from you?”

“He bought some enhancements off us. Legal ones!” Ransack quickly added. “Or at least, mostly legal. Or at least… not the type that would incriminate us for anything, I don’t think!”

“Huh, interesting.” Aileron looked up at Hot Shot. “Well, that’s a lead if I ever heard one. Shall we go looking for this Breakdown?”

“Sounds good to me.” Hot Shot smirked at Ransack and Crumplezone. “You two take care. And don’t get into any trouble.”

The two thugs exchanged confused looks before quickly nodding their heads, beaming with relief. “Will do,” Ransack said. “Uh, good luck with, uh, whatever you’re doing!”

“Yeah!” said Crumplezone. “G-good luck!”

As the two Autobots walked away from the pair, Aileron looked over her shoulder at them for a moment before nudging Hot Shot with her elbow once they were far away enough.

“You already radioed the authorities, didn’t you?”

“Yup. Already en route.”

“Y’know, I just might ask you to be my amica endura…”

Hot Shot grinned down at her. “Now that would be awesome.”

*  *  *

“Yeah, sure, recruit the guy who can’t transform to speak to a bunch of people who can and are also really, really fast. That makes plenty of sense…”

Circuit uttered a number of profanities to himself at low volume as he trudged through the streets of Delta, looking for anyone who would stand still long enough for him to talk with them. He had hoped Longtooth would at least come with him but his usual camera operator was too busy getting footage of the repairs being done to the city. Circuit would’ve preferred to be covering that but Aileron had picked him for this mission and since she apparently was somewhere within the chain of command above him aboard the Exitus, that meant he had to do what she said.

It probably did not help that Velocitron made him the most envious of those still with alternate modes. If he had been on Devisiun or Micron or wherever the beast-formers were hanging around now, it probably would not have bothered him much at all. But not only was he surrounded by bots with speedy car modes that made him long for his old alternate mode, but he also long had dreams of covering or even participating in one of their races. Before the war he had covered the Ibex Cup and it had been one of his favorite moments of his entire career. If he were to cover something like the Speedia 500, where the next leader of Velocitron could potentially be decided, then he would have felt like he was being a part of history. Maybe then, people would remember who he was.

Not confuse him for someone with the same name….

The thought made him irate again and he expressed his frustration on a discarded oil can that was laying on the ground. His foot sent it flying into the path of a nearby blue-and-red bot, who was stepping down from the ramp of a small ship, and it hit them in the head.

“Hey!” the Velocitronian exclaimed. “Watch it, guy!”

Circuit froze in his tracks, struck with embarrassment. “Oh, sweet Primus, I’m so sorry. I… I was just kind of lost in my thoughts.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” The mech rubbed his head, narrowing his single yellow optic at Circuit. “Just watch it next time, will ya’?”

Circuit nodded and was about to make his hasty retreat when he suddenly remembered his mission. He debated with himself whether he should risk further embarrassment by continuing to speak to the mech, but he also didn’t want to waste his time running after Velocitronians speeding away from him. This guy at least seemed to have an aerial alt mode, something rather unusual for a native of this planet.

Clearing his vocal processor, Circuit said, “Um, my sincerest apologies for what just happened. I, uh, my name is Circuit. I’m with the crew of the Exitus. You know, Thunderclash’s team?”

“Uh-huh.” The Velocitronian showed no interest in speaking as he picked up a crate from a nearby stack and started to load it onto his ship.

Circuit stepped closer to the ramp, rubbing the back of his head. “And, uh, we’re trying to investigate who exactly was behind the bombing that took place here earlier today. So, I was wondering if you’ve seen anyone or anything that might’ve been out of the ordinary.”

“Nope.” The mech set down the crate somewhere inside and stepped back down the ramp. “But I’ve seen enough to make me want to leave this dump before things get worse.”

“Oh. Are you… not from here?”

“To be honest with you, I have no idea. As far as I know, I’ve lived my entire life here, but it’s never felt like home.” The mech gestured to the wings on his legs. “If I was forged here, then Navitas had a nasty sense of humor making me one of the only fliers on a world full of speedsters. There’s so few of us that we’re pretty much disqualified from partaking in the Speedia 500.”

“Huh.” Circuit now wished even more that Longtooth was with him and that he was conducting a standard news interview. He lived for this kind of stuff. “So, where are you heading to then? And, sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”

“Right now, I want to get far away from Cybertronian space as possible, since I imagine the other worlds aren’t gonna be safe from what happened here. As for my name…” The mech hesitated for a brief but noticeable moment. “I go by Sky Guard these days. Used to call myself Skytop, but that didn’t really feel right. And I think Skyfall might be taken….”

“You don’t even know your real name?”

“Like I said, I’ve never really fit in here. Name thing could be a part of it.” Sky Guard picked up another crate before stopping to look at Circuit. “Anyway, it’s been nice talking to you, Circuit, but I really need to get moving. Don’t want to stay here any longer than I need to.”

“Uh, right. Totally. I get it.” Circuit rubbed the back of his head again, tempted to ask further questions but also not wanting to burn the bridge he had just made. Perhaps another time, he told himself. “Well, I guess I’ll see you, Sky Guard. Have a safe journey.”

“Yeah, here’s hoping,” Sky Guard muttered as he stepped onto his ship.

Circuit had turned his back for no more than a couple seconds when he suddenly heard a loud boom. Sky Guard’s ship exploded into a massive fireball and the red and blue mech was sent flying. He crashed into Circuit and the two of them fell to the ground. As pieces of Sky Guard’s ship fell around them, Circuit quickly got back up and rolled Sky Guard onto his back; to his relief, the Velocitronian was still functioning, with only minor charring on his armor plating.

“Well,” the one-eyed flier said in a morose tone, “I guess fate has other plans for me.”

Transformers Regenerated: Beyond Imagination V, Chapter Two

TWO: THE DEAD COME HOME

 T minus 90 minutes

Ironfist opened his eyes. That was his first sign that something was wrong.

The last thing he remembered was blackness. Before that, the monstrous machine known as Ragnarok had torn through him and his fellow Wreckers; Rotorstorm had his head blown off, Guzzle had been torn in two, the others… he couldn’t remember what state the others had been. 

But he did remember the bullet in his head—the one that had entered his cranial unit in that incident on Kimia years ago—inching closer and closer to his brain module. After that, nothing. All of his systems shut off and he was gone. Or at least, he was supposed to be gone.

And yet, here he was, still among the functioning. At least, he was pretty sure this wasn’t the Afterspark or some nonsense like that. From the looks of it, he was in some sort of standard medical bay, with an Autobot insignia adorning the wall across from him. He slowly rotated his head on the berth he was laying on and saw that he was not alone in the room; sitting up on the medical slab next to his was a red and gray bot whom he recognized as Windcharger. There were others in the medical bay, some still in stasis lock, with each one being checked on by a medical officer. 

One of the medics noticed Ironfist and Windcharger and walked over to them. Ironfist did not immediately recognize the medic but they had a red and white color scheme as was typical of those with his function.

“Ah. I see that you’re awake. I’ll notify Prime and let him know. Right now, you two should stay put so to better preserve your energon levels, as they are still a bit low and—”

“What the frag is going on?” Windcharger cut the medic off. “I thought I was dead! That… that… that thing crushed my head!”

“Your brain module was crushed yes, but your spark was recovered. It was kept in safe storage until your body could be properly repaired. You would have been reactivated sooner but we’ve, ah, been preoccupied with other things.”

“What about me?” Ironfist sat up and pointed to his head. “The bullet that’s been lodged in my head… it made its way to my brain module, didn’t it?”

The medic turned to him. “It did, but your systems were still operational enough that we were able to save you. You’ve been kept in stasis lock for the past two years until we could safely remove the bullet threatening your brain module. As you can see, the operation was a success.”

Ironfist put a hand to where the bullet hole would have been only to feel nothing but smooth armor plating. It was as if the incident had never happened to begin with; he didn’t even feel any sort of pain in his cranial unit…

“So, I take it we aren’t the only ones then, right?” Windcharger asked. “Anyone else being given the miracle treatment?”

“Oh, yes, plenty. It’s all part of Rodimus Prime’s new Golden Age initiative—”

“I’m sorry,” Ironfist interjected. “Did you just say ‘Rodimus Prime’?”

The medic smiled awkwardly. “Ah, yes, that’s right. It’s been two years since you….” He cleared his vocal processor. “I’ll have Ratchet send for someone to fill you in on what you missed.”

With that, the medic hastily departed from the medbay, leaving Ironfist and Windcharger alone to mull over their new lease on life. Ironfist took another moment to look around the medbay; he could swear that one of the bots laying nearby was Rotorstorm, judging by their blue and magenta color scheme, but they were too far away for him to be sure.

Raising a hand to his head, Ironfist shuttered his optics as he accessed his internal memory systems. To his mild surprise, he was still able to access the data logs he had written for his Wreckers Declassified series, some of them dating back centuries. He found it to be somewhat of a miracle that the data had survived the surgery.

With nothing else to do while they waited for the medic to return, Ironfist decided that he might as well kill the time by submitting another entry for his readers, if only to let them in on the big news.

That Fisitron was back.

*  *  *

T minus 1 hour

Autobot City: Earth

“This is a problem.”

“Why?” Kup grunted, gnawing on his cy-gar as he watched Rodimus Prime pace back and forth in his office. “Because someone else broke the news before you and stole your glory?”

“No!” Rodimus stopped in his tracks, bringing a hand to his helmet crest. “That’s obviously not… I don’t care about stuff like that, Kup. I’m just worried about the rumors that will start to spread because of this.”

“What? Rumors like the dead walkin’ among us? We already had this whole song and dance last cycle, lad, when Impactor and the Jumpstarters and the rest came back. People won’t be as surprised this time, now that there’s a precedence.”

“Right, except that had an explanation people could buy,” Rodimus said. “Shockwave was doing some crazy experiments behind our backs, and that’s why bots are back from the dead.”

“Uh-huh.” Kup raised an optic ridge. “And this is different because…?”

Rodimus sighed. “Because it isn’t Shockwave that’s behind it this time. It’s me.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Of course not.” Rodimus turned to face the viewport in his office, which gave him a view of the green landscape that surrounded Autobot City. “I mean, they would know regardless once I had given my official announcement. I just… I wasn’t expecting people to find out so soon.”

“Lots of people followed Wreckers: Declassified. Hell, even Ratchet does.”

“Right, and he already knows about… this. But there are others who, once this gets to them… well, the whole world is going to know.”

Kup removed his cy-gar from his mouth and flaked off some residue. “You’re talking about Swerve.”

“Yes, Kup. I’m talking about Swerve.”

*  *  *

T minus 55 minutes

“Isn’t this amazing?!”

Skids stared blankly at Swerve, having barely processed what the red and white Autobot had just said to him within the span of ten seconds. “Uh… can you run it by me again? Maybe slower this time? I heard something about an iron fist.”

“It’s Ironfist! You know, Fisitron?” Swerve raised his hands over his head, nearly knocking over the oil can he had been cleaning out off the counter. “He’s back from the dead! Hell, I bet he wasn’t even dead to begin with! I always knew he would pull through; it only took two years. But it’s not just him, either. Windcharger is back, too!”

Skids blinked. “Windcharger? I remember him. He was in my class at the academy. I had heard he had been killed by that… Megatron-Optimus fusion. Which I guess was actually Scourge, technically?”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, because he’s back! At least, that’s what Ironfist’s latest entry says.”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t hacked or anything like that?”

“Are you kidding? I was stationed at Kimia with him. I remember him having Brainstorm set up all sorts of firewalls to make sure no one got access to his databanks. Trust me, his processor is more secure than Teletraan One.” Swerve then paused, glancing around the room. Skids wasn’t sure why he was doing that, since they were the only ones in the bar. Swerve then leaned over the counter, fighting with his life to keep a massive grin from spreading across his face.

“You know what this also means, yeah?”

Skids again give him a blank stare. “You’re just gonna have to tell me, man, because I’m no good at picking up on your flavor of subtext.”

“It means that there’s a chance to bring Tailgate back.”

Skids leaned back at those words, as the weight of them hit him. He recalled that, about a year ago, at the end of the Crusadercons’ quest, both Tailgate and Cyclonus had been lured into the trap that had been Mederi—which was the “Cyberutopia” they had spent their quest searching for—and killed by the station’s euthanasia program. He hadn’t seen their deaths for himself, having been split off in a different group, but he remembered Swerve telling him about their deaths, and how it had impacted him after Mederi’s promise of an Afterspark had worn off on all of them.

He also understood why Swerve missed Tailgate so badly; it wasn’t just because they were friends, but because ever since the quest had ended, Swerve had been nostalgic for those days. Being stuck in one place, whether it be Earth or Cybertron, had taken a toll on the minibot’s demeanor, and the fact that the old Crusadercon crew (or at least its surviving members) had all been split up between different teams and missions certainly didn’t help. 

To have Tailgate back in any way, shape, or form… it would go a long way to help Swerve return to those good old times. A time that was, relatively speaking, much more simpler compared to now.

Not wanting to dampen his friend’s spirits, Skids chose his next few words carefully. “I think we should wait until we learn more about how Ironfist and Windcharger came back before getting our hopes up. I mean, Ironfist and Windcharger’s bodies were at least recoverable, and I take it their sparks were able to be saved.”

“We brought Tailgate’s body back with us,” Swerve pointed out.

“Yes, but his spark was taken away. As was Cyclonus’, in case you forgot about him.” Skids raised his hands to stop Swerve from interjecting. “Look, buddy, I want to be hopeful like you. But I’ve been burned way too many times over the course of my life to get too optimistic about things. I’m sure Rodimus is aware about all of this and will say something when the time is right.”

Swerve frowned. “You miss them, too, don’t you?”

“What? Of course I do. We hung out with Tailgate all the time, and even Cyclonus wasn’t that bad once you got to—”

“I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about the good old days. The quest days. Do you miss them?”

Skids went quiet as he considered the question. He thought back to all the memories he had of those days; of all the happiness, the heartache, and everything in between. He thought of the people they had met and those they had lost.

And he quickly realized that he very much did miss the good old days.

It was the first time in his life that he had some form of direction. A direction that did not require him to be a secret agent that was cut off from the rest of the world. A direction where he could let loose and just be himself… and be accepted for it.

Ever since the quest had ended, he had found himself losing that direction… and now wasn’t quite sure whether or not he still had any.

Skids exhaled slowly as he lowered his head. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, I do miss them.”

Swerve reached over and tapped him on the arm. “Hey,” he said, his old smile returning to his face. “This is our chance to bring those days back. You’re right, I’m sure Rodimus will say something about it. And if he doesn’t, then you bet your actuator I’m gonna bring it up to him.”

Skids raised his head back up and smirked. “Knowing you? I have no doubt you will, old buddy.”

*  *  *

T minus 15 minutes

“Hey, can you change the channel? I think that speech is about to start.”

The barkeep looked up from the glass he was cleaning out to give his patron an odd look. “Speech? What speech?”

“Y’know, the giant robot’s speech.” The man in the plaid shirt waved his hand aimlessly in the air. “I just wanna see it. Not everyday you see a giant robot on television and it not be a human-killing machine.”

The barkeep huffed as he picked up a remote control and started flipping through channels, taking the screen off the basketball game it had been playing. “I dunno, man, I don’t trust those things. You mean to tell me these giant machines have been living among us for, what, three years? And only now does the government come out and officially announce some sort of alliance? Something’s fishy, man, I tell ya.”

“Yeah, yeah. I think they’re showing it on LCTV.”

The barkeep landed on the channel in question. Appearing on the television screen now was a massive robot in red and orange armor plating, a flame decal displayed prominently on its chest. It stood at a podium, speaking to a crowd of mostly other machines as well as a few humans, most of them representatives from the newly formed Earth Defense Command. Because the camera had been adjusted to fit as much of the robot as possible, most of the people were so small one could barely even make them out. But no one was watching the broadcast for them.

The man in the plaid shirt whistled. “Talk about timing. Looks like it just started.”

A caption at the bottom of the screen identified the red robot as Rodimus Prime, leader of Cybertron. Expressing a smile that seemed almost human in nature, Rodimus Prime began to speak. “As I’m sure you’re all aware by now, some familiar faces have begun to pop up. Faces that many of us thought to be gone forever. Ironfist, the Autobot engineer whom some of you know better as the author Fisitron, has awakened from his two-year coma to publish the latest entry in his Wreckers: Declassified series.”

The plaid-wearing patron scratched his beard. “These guys do writing of their own?”

The barkeep simply shrugged.

“Everything he wrote in that entry is true,” Rodimus Prime went on. “The dead have come home. Bots like Windcharger here have been restored after being brutally killed by Guiltaur last stellar cycle. Others such as Ironfist’s fellow Wrecker Rotorstorm are still in the recovery process of having their life restored. This, my friends, is only the beginning.”

The barkeep grunted to himself. “So these guys can just bring themselves back from the dead like that, eh? Must be nice. Maybe they could’ve saved my uncle last month.”

Rodimus Prime gestured to a smaller orange robot standing beside his podium. It had round optical sensors that almost looked like spectacles on its face. “With the help of my good friend Rung here, as well as the legendary Vector Sigma itself, we have been able to produce new sparks that will not only give life to new Cybertronians, but old ones as well.”

The crowd on-screen erupted in uproarious applause. In sharp contrast, the audience of two at the bar watched on in either bemused or disdainful silence.

“Today marks a new chapter in the history of Cybertron. A truly golden age that has only been dreamed of by Primes before me but has now been given fruition by our efforts. Join me as we step into an Age of Restoration!”

The crowd grew louder and louder, so loud it was peaking the on-site microphones. Just as the barkeep reached for the remote control again, the scene abruptly changed to a hazy black screen. Through the grainy static one could make out a humanoid figure, wearing some sort of skull-like mask. Within the eyeholes of the mask glowed red pinpricks of light.

“The hell?” the barkeep exclaimed. “What is this, some sort of Max Headroom type crap?”

The mysterious figure began to speak, but its words were difficult to make out due to the quality of the video. It was as if every other sentence was being garbled out by static.

“You are being deceived.”

“Is this part of the thing?” the barkeep asked his patron.

“No freaking clue. I don’t think it is…”

“The Autobots are wasting resources to prop up a flawed system. Both theirs and ours.”

“Y’know,” the patron said, “I have heard about people protesting this speech. Some anti-robot activists out there. Might have something to do with that.”

“Hmph. Makes sense.”

“The only answer is chaos. Become that which is inevitable.”

“Yeah,” the barkeep said. “You’re probably right. This sounds like something a kid would write.”

“We are mayhem. And so are you.”

Just as abruptly as it had begun, the interruption ended and returned to the broadcast. The speech was no longer on screen and was instead playing the tail-end of a political ad. A dark haired woman in a navy blue suit crossed her arms over the words “Guiglione for Mayor.”

“—Megan Guiglione, and I approve this message,” the woman was saying seconds before the barkeep hit the remote and changed the channel back to the basketball game. 

“Well, looks like you missed it. If you ask me, I still think these machines are trouble. Especially if they can just bring themselves back like that.”

The patron sighed. “Yeah. You might be on to something there. I just thought it would be cool to see a giant robot on TV like that….”

As the man returned to his drink, he failed to pay any mind to the young woman sitting further down the bar who had been watching the broadcast much more intently than either of them. When the barkeep came down to her side of the bar, she wordlessly put down the money she owed for her tab.

The barkeep eyed the money as he took it before affixing the woman with a skeptical look. “You’re sure you’re twenty-one? That wasn’t a fake ID you gave me, was it? ‘Cos if you ask me—”

“I didn’t,” the woman said before getting down from her stool and striding out of the bar.

*  *  *

T minus 5 minutes

“Okay… are we back on?”

“Uh, I think so,” said Blaster, rubbing his helm as he double-checked the monitors. “The networks have already cut to commercial, so that’ll give us some time to recuperate.”

Rodimus Prime took in some air to cool off his heating internal systems. “Right,” he exhaled. “In the meantime, can someone look into what the frag just happened?”

“Has something like this ever happened before?” asked Marissa Faireborn, head of E.D.C., as she stood among the few other human spectators.

“Hacked broadcasts?” Blaster replied. “All the time during the war. Since then, I don’t think the ‘Cons have really bothered with such tactics… assuming this isn’t the Decepticons.”

Rodimus frowned. “They did say something about mayhem though. Wasn’t that the name of…?”

Before he could finish his thought, Red Alert approached him along with a detail of armed Autotroopers. The white and red security director who looking around frantically, regarding everything and everyone as if they were a potential threat.

“Got here as fast as we could, Prime. Everything all right here?”

“I believe so, Red. Probably just some scare tactics. Still, I would start putting things on lockdown just in case. At the very least, get those human protesters outside to somewhere safe.”

Red Alert nodded. “Will do.” He turned to the Autotroopers behind him. “Start escorting people to safety. Stay close to the Prime in case anyone tries to pull something funny.”

One of the Autotroopers stepped forward, walking towards Rodimus.

“I’m sorry,” the white-plated Autobot said.

Rodimus frowned at the trooper. “Pardon?”

The Autotrooper dropped his gun and lowered the windscreen on his chest. A red light began to blink.

Red Alert’s optics went wide. “BOMB! EVERYONE OUT!”

Thinking quickly, Rodimus threw himself around the Autotrooper, covering the soldier with his larger body.

The bomb went off and the last thing Rodimus remembered was being surrounded by flames.

Death's Head: The World in Question - Entry 6

ENTRY 6: PARADOXES

  Hnn. This is off the record, yes? You folks will be getting my running monologue now as well as what I recall from the following conversations as I try to piece all of this together.

After I turned in my little homework, Mr. Paradox called me in to his office. Here at the TVA (or at least this particular iteration of it, more on that some other time), Paradox is in charge of tracking disturbances across timelines and universes, dispatching people like me to investigate and address them. Now, I understand that you guys on Earth-1218 had some sort of big blockbuster film released two years ago that depicted Paradox as a, well, not a heroic chap, yes? That’s not this Paradox. I don’t think so, anyway. That one and that particular version of the TVA is in its own corner. It’s canon corner, if you will, yes? This one is different. A bit more… fanatical, if you catch my drift, yes?

Anyways, lately Paradox has become rather, ah, invested with studying realities that center around the Transformers. Maybe it has to do with the events in Earth-9814. Couldn’t tell you. When I came into his office, he seemed rather eager to tell me all about what he had learned. Suppose no one else would listen, no?

He skipped all of the pleasantries and formalities, which I was perfectly fine with, and got straight to the point. “How much do you know about the history of your home reality?” he asked me. “About Earth-9284?”

I told him everything I knew was in those datalogs I just submitted to him. He seemed to have expected that answer as he gave a rather knowing smile.

“I thought as much. The history of that reality has certainly ebbed and flowed over the years, even after we cordoned off the events following the Heroes Reborn crisis in order to make room for elements from Earth-982 as part of our merging process. With the state things are in now after we’ve merged the divergent branches together to create a more streamlined universe, we have run into some… unforeseen complications.”

I asked him to elaborate and reminded him I didn’t much care for “vague-speak.” Thankfully, he obliged.

“One of the branches that we’re still having trouble with was created by the arrival of an interloper from Earth-9884. While seemingly Cybertronian in appearance, he is in fact a resident of Gobotron, the counterpart to Cybertron in that reality. Goes by the name of Bug Bite.”

My audio receptors perked up at that name. I recognized it as the guy who first hired me for the Expanse job. I thought about saying as much to Paradox but thought it best to let him continue, yes?

“Apparently, he and his fellow GoBots had left their home reality to fix a cataclysm that had threatened their world. Bug Bite was under the belief that the Megatron of Earth-9284 was somehow responsible and set about to kill him. His arrival in your home reality at the Battle of Klo created a divergent branch which we had tentatively called Earth-6277. Because some of the divergences were too drastic to reconcile, we had allowed it to remain in a pocket universe within Earth-9284… at least until it was destroyed by an incursion from Earth-4248.”

That number also rang a bell and this time I spoke up about it. Again, Paradox gave me that smug little smirk of his.

“We have since determined the Earth-4248 you were familiar with to be a separate reality altogether, one that is more of a mirror to Earth-9814 to Earth-9284.” (I will forgive you if you are being driven insane by all these numbers, all these 9s, 4s, and 8s. Drove me up the wall as well, yes?) “The one you’re thinking of has since been relabeled as Earth-4108.”

Figures. I kindly asked him to hurry along to the point, yes?

“The point,” Paradox said, “is that these temporal incursions and anomalies caused by both our efforts as well as factors outside of control are creating reverberations that are beginning to reach Earth-9814. In other words, history is about to repeat itself, even if might take on a different form. We have already seen such reverberations from Earth-19505, a reality which appears to be a heavy inspiration for 9814, no doubt caused by that reality’s Shockwave and his machinations.”

I thought back to what Paradox had told me just now, remembering Bug Bite and my encounters with Expanse and his ilk. I then looked at Paradox. “You believe this Earth-4108 might be on an incursion path with Earth-9814, yes?”

Paradox smiled, a bit too cheerful about a threat to a reality’s existence, yes? “Precisely. Even as we speak, certain events are unfolding that mirror those that led up to the incursion between Earths-6277 and 4248.”

“And you want me to stop it, yes?”

“No.” Paradox leaned back in his seat. “I want you to make sure it happens.”

I stared at him. He had to be joking, no?

“Believe me, I was actually about to have you do just that. But a recent missive from He Who Remains has directed us to ensure that this incursion unfold as it may. He believes it may be the only way to determine Earth-9814’s future, given that it has already had its fair share of time incidents as you well know.”

I knew he was alluding to that whole deal with that Sari lass and the Warren. Also, I believe the Shockwave of that reality is also a nuisance when it comes to time travel, yes?

I asked him what I was supposed to do then, to which Paradox said, “We will call you in should anyone from either of these two realities attempt to prevent what is to come. In the meantime, there is one matter we would like you to address.”

“And that would be…?”

“Another native of Earth-9814, a Decepticon named Spacewarp, has been transported to a divergent branch of Earth-1138, a reality which is… particularly interesting but does not need Cybertronian involvement. There also appears to be another Cybertronian from Earth-9814 whom was sent there by Shockwave’s Sigma Project. Both need to be either brought back home or eliminated. Whichever is easiest for you.”

Well, I know which one I prefer, but Paradox’s tone made it sound like the former was preferable to the latter. Figures, yes?

Anyway. That’s where we’re at now, yes? Will return to you with another report after I’ve addressed this situation.

Death's Head: The World In Question - Entry 5

ENTRY FIVE: THEN AND NOW

 Datalog 516-87-1965

Right. This is where things get complicated. As if things weren’t already, yes?

Thanks to the access TVA’s given me to you folks on Earth-1218 (still not quite sure why I’m supposed to be dictating this to you but whatever), I have an idea as to which of my, ah, endeavors have been exposed to you. Problem is, we’re getting into a spot where I can’t accurately pinpoint WHEN some of these exploits happened.

Okay, let’s start with this one. This one I can place before my encounters with the Transformers. It was back in Earth-616 but in the time after my encounters with the Fantastic Four and She-Hulk would have taken place. Confusing, yes? Even moreso that I apparently didn’t recognize it when I returned there.

I had a different face back then. Not quite as handsome, yes? Also wasn’t calling myself a peacekeeping agent yet; rather a personnel recovery specialist. I was hired by the rulers of Tinas VI to recover an artifact that had been stolen by a thief called Lothi. Would’ve killed him but I managed to make a deal with S.W.O.R.D., led by the thief’s half-sister. Old habits never die, eh? Before we parted ways after my adventures with them, one of them—a furry blue fellow—suggested the “peacekeeping agent” idea to me. What can I say? If it fits, it fits, yes?

After that I had some encounters with Iron Man—the original, not the edgy 2020 guy. Then I fought my future self—ol’ Mark II—in an event called the Revolutionary War. Got shrunk down from 30 feet to human scale. Guess I must’ve been enlarged back to 30 feet some time later. Haven’t gotten there yet, yes?

Had some encounter with the Young Avengers… couldn’t tell you when that was. Also a stint with the Imperial Guardians. Same deal there, yes? Hell, you might not have the full story at the time of this recording.

Hnn. At this point, there’s not much point in going any further. A lot of it has yet to be documented anyway. I’ll just skip to the more relevant stuff, yes?

Eventually, I got my original body back. To be honest with you, I’m still fuzzy on the details, but I have a hunch that the TVA might’ve been involved because not long after that, they approached me with another offer. I immediately declined them, but they told me that they had undergone a… restructuring. A reboot, if you will, yes? Had different people working there, even if they all had the same names. The contract they offered me was admittedly better than the previous one, so I accepted.

At first, it was business as usual. They sent me around the multiverse to investigate disturbances. One trip brought me to Earth-19505 where I ran into some familiar faces, including another Rodimus and an Autobot called Impactor whose arm I tore off in a scuffle. Reason for traveling there was due to multiple shenanigans caused by a certain Shockwave, which brought in blokes from Earth-7506 and gave them new identities. A Bumblebee from that reality was now called Centurion, for example. Apparently I was popular enough in this reality that Rodimus asked that someone hire me to take out someone called Getaway for him. Hnn. Wish I could’ve taken him up on that offer. For old time’s sake, yes?

Another one was… well, it was originally labeled Earth-21915 but I’ve heard talks of it being relabeled Earth-2384 for the year it’s centered around. Would make it easier to remember, yes? Anyway, that one started out as a branch of Earth-9196 but spiraled off into its own thing. During my investigation there, I ended up getting stuck with that reality’s version of Spratt. Typical, eh? At least he gave me a power boost as a Headmaster partner. Teamed up with some Autobot bounty hunter to deal with some space pirates. Quite the adventure, yes? After it was decided to leave the universe alone rather than purge it or merge it back with the one it branched off from, the TVA recalled me.

Sidenote, I did see in one reality—not one I visited but one I got a glimpse of—someone paid homage to me by naming his ship after me. Coincidence? Most likely. But I can’t help but feel a kindred spirit with the bot who owns it….

Anyway, my fun came to an end after an incident in Earth… well, I’m not sure I’m allowed to say which one it was. But, ah, my actions there might’ve been the cause of an incursion that erased it from existence. Needless to say, my handler Paradox wasn’t happy with that and stripped me of my dimension-hopping privileges. Got restricted to cleaning up messes in the timeline of my home reality. Eventually convinced them to give me another shot and was given a device that let me travel between two—and only two—realities. My home one, and one they called Earth-9814.

Earth-9814 was apparently important to them, yes? They had noticed some strange blips and needed someone to check it out. Was given strict orders to not do anything too rash. A bit like asking a bull not to demolish a china shop, yes? (See, I can pick up on Terran phrases. Damn you, Spratt.)

Of course, just my luck, soon as I get there, I found myself arrested for violating some intergalactic law or something. Got thrown into prison, yes? Was luckily able to get out with the help of two local Cybertronians. Continued my work while setting up shop on Elpasos; the most familiar location I could find, yes?

Things were mostly quiet for a time until a human by the name of Sari Sumdac took a trip through an anomaly in this universe called the Warren. Used it to alter the course of history, yes? Prevent her planet’s destruction. TVA took a blind eye to this because, well, they didn’t want any Earth being destroyed. Figures, eh? That was when a Cybertronian called Bug Bite came to me with a job: ten million credits for capturing a ‘bot with a quantum device called Expanse. Good money, yes? It worked out that this Expanse was in my home reality, hanging with the X-Men.

Now, this is where things get dicey. See, by this point my home reality had started to look different, though I hadn’t caught on yet due to my, ah, complicated history. There was no more Earth-616, or Earth-120185, or even an Earth-8410 (I don’t think anyway). Everything had been merged together by the TVA into a singular reality: Earth-9284. They had also brought in stuff from Earth-982, which overwrote any events from Earth-616 after a certain point… which happens to include some of my earlier adventures that I brought up earlier in this entry. Hnn. Might need to talk to Paradox about that, yes?

Because of this, there was no more sliding timescale. Except there sorta was, as stuff from the 1980s had been shifted to the 1990s, but after these events they were shifted back to the 1980s. Very confounding, isn’t it? Anyway, I located Expanse only for some Cybertronian knobber from Earth-4248 to steal my prize. I managed to track them both down, and also encountered that Sari lass I mentioned earlier. Expanse then activated his quantum drive thing to bring us all to Mojoworld, where that slobbering oaf Mojo (obvious name, yes?) pitted us all in an arena. After his show got shut down, I was able to get compensation for my efforts from the Autobots and I let them have Expanse. At the time, I didn’t think he was important, yes?

Well, Paradox proved me wrong when I got back to the TVA. After he explained the whole “merging universes” thing to me (not that I fully understood it all; still don’t), he sent me to go get Expanse again so the top brass at the TVA could study him. Managed to track him down as well as some other ‘bots that had been displaced across the multiverse, including in Earth-9284. That Sari girl was also there, for whatever reason. I dealt with the interlopers, sending them to Axiom Nexus in Earth-3138, only to then lose sight of Expanse. That was when Paradox recalled me, telling me that the situation had spiraled a bit out of control.

And, ah, that’s where I’m at now. Got paid for the job and then asked to record these datalogs while I continue my work for them. Not sure what’s gonna happen next. Might be worrying too much, yes?

Hnn. Really hope I’m not out of a job. Multiverse work pays well, yes?

Death's Head: The World in Question - Entry 4

ENTRY FOUR: WE CAN BE HEROES (JUST FOR ONE DAY)

 Datalog 516-87-1964

Ahh, Earth-616. Despite being a fair way down the list of realities, everything seems to revolve around you in some way or form. Or at least it used. Or it will.

Hnn. Time travel. Pain in the ol’ noggin, yes?

Anyway, my time there was relatively short, all things considered. I had ended up on the Four Freedoms Plaza which was where the Fantastic Four, a superhero team, operated. They’ve got pretty advanced tech for their time period at their building, and, well, to say the sensors didn’t take kindly to my presence would’ve been an understatement, yes?

I eventually made my way inside and the Fantastic Four gave me the type of greeting I suppose they reserve for folks like Doctor Doom, eh? We had quite the scuffle until Mister Fantastic’s home defense systems started acting crosswired and began targeting anyone with superhuman capabilities… which included them, yes?

Naturally, I saw the opportunity to make a deal with them. In exchange for helping them sort things out and protect their son from their haywire inventions, I wanted access to a time machine which I figured they would have. After taking out the haywire robot and saving their son before it exploded (call me a softie, yes? Except you shouldn’t. Ever.), the Four let me use their home time machine (wish I could have one for myself, eh?).

However, when I let slip what I did for a living, they didn’t take too kindly to that little revelation and aborted the time-jump as I was halfway through. Rather than end up home in 8162, I ended up in the year 2020 (formerly labeled as Earth-8410). Can’t really complain too much; at least I wouldn’t have to put up with Spratt, yes?

Now, I’m sure you humans reading this at this point in time know that the year 2020 is… well, it’s not a great year, yes? It’s true for your reality, and I’d say doubly so for this one. The all-star hero of this reality is Iron Man, but not the one you’re familiar with. No, Arno Stark is pretty much all of his distant relative’s negative traits exemplified to the highest degree. He revels in being rich and only wants to get richer. I find that relatable, yes?

Anyway, I didn’t waste any time in finding work and started going after a gang that called themselves the Warlords. My newfound fame eventually came around to bite me and I found myself in a scuffle with 2020’s local Iron Man. Credit where it’s due, he fights good for a human, yes?

Eventually, we realized we had been set up by my employers to fight each other. After we put out differences aside, we, ah, took care of our doublecrossers before going our separate ways. Shortly after that, I spotted my old spacecraft and, curse my luck, it was carrying Spratt. Just when I was starting to enjoy life, yes? And to make matters worse, he was being chase by a nasty bloke calling himself Big Shot.

I still blame this all on the Doctor, between you and me, yes?

Things pretty much went back to normal for me at this point, at least for a time. I had Spratt back on my side (regrettably) and I was back to taking on odd jobs; only difference now was the time period, yes?

After I took out a murderer named Rogan (and got an unwanted crisis of conscience from a woman I had killed him in front of), I found Spratt being harassed by Big Shot again (or maybe… maybe I was simply misremembering the initial encounter. Gah, that’s what I get for relying on some of your guys’ records to help jog my memory, eh?). He was going on and on about revenge and he put up a hell of a fight, yes? Just my luck that I started to get flashbacks from my origin story. Rather inconvenient, no? 

Just as Big Shot was about to finish me off, he was blasted aside by a woman who turned out to be Pyra—hope you remember her from my first entry, yes? Poor woman thought I was still her husband Lupex—who, as luck would have it, transported me back to Styrakos. My old man explained my origin to me and said that Pyra was under the belief that he had already transfered his spirit into me, when he had never gotten around to ever doing that. He then tried to do just that and, well, I wasn’t having any of it, yes? After I took him out, Pyra arrived and revealed to me that she had always known that I wasn’t really Lupex. Was simply a ruse in order to set up this very showdown, yes?

Hnn. Organics and their mind games. Any wonder why I’m not fond of them?

Still, I couldn’t help but admire her cleverness. Mother always knows best, yes? I returned to 2020 and continued my work with Spratt—not like I had much of a choice, eh?

I suppose by this point, my escapades throughout time and space had gotten the attention of the Time Variance Authority. They hired me to help them address disturbances throughout the timeline and, well, I wasn’t going to turn down money like theirs, was I? A trip to Earth-8810 to investigate a time bubble led me to cross paths with the Fantastic Four again, as well as some of their other superhero friends. We managed to put our past grievances aside to deal with a version of Kang the Conqueror and oh, don’t get me started on that guy. He managed to get a hit on my vehicle and I ended up phasing out of reality. Not very fair, yes? The TVA managed to pull me out of that little inconvenience and sent me back to 2020. Decided to put my resignation in then and there.

Another job I took around this time was to procure a vase from the “present day” of Earth-616. This brought me into conflict with a superheroine named She-Hulk and the vase got broken in the process. Fortunately, the green lady let me take the disc that was contained within the vase and I was able to get my payment.

Needless to say, by this point I needed a break from the chaos that was my life. Decided to unwind at a party on Maruthea where I happened to see my old Doctor friend. At this point, I had decided to let bygones be bygones and simply raised my glass in acknowledgment. After getting into a fun little party fight, I made my way home and…

Hang on. I’m reading through the records you folks have on me and… I don’t remember this next bit.

Hob attacked me? I teamed up with my future self only to then try and kill him? The friggin’ DOCTOR erased my memory? And what is this about him being responsible for ending up in Earth-120185? Is there a page missing here or something?

Okay, I remember being killed by Minion—he’s some robot made by A.I.M., yes? He assimilated me and, thanks to Mister Fantastic of all people, I was able to assert a little bit of control, leading to him becoming Death’s Head Mark II. Lots I could detail here but it would get way too complicated and, well, it wasn’t really me who lived through that, yes? That would be my successor. He’s an all right bloke, I guess. But his story is his to tell, not mine.

As for how I got back to being, well, me… story for another time, yes? Besides, there are some records here that even I haven’t figured out the timeline of yet. A whole mess, eh?

Oh yeah and Spratt was killed. Figures.

Death's Head: The World In Question - Entry 3

ENTRY THREE: DOCTOR, DOCTOR

 Datalog 516-87-1963

Hnn. Been a while since I updated this, yes? Been busy as of late. Keep my mission logs separate from this one, yes?

Strap in, because this is where things get crazy. Well, crazier than usual, yes?

When I fell through the time vortex in what used to be Earth-120185 (I know, I know, I’ll address the numbers thing again eventually), I ended up crashing into a rather peculiar object. If you’re from Earth, you would probably recognize it as a police phone box, yes? Now, you might be asking yourself, “What’s a police phone box doing in a time vortex?” Well, because it’s not an ordinary police phone box; it’s something called a space-time vessel, yes? A TARDIS, if you will. Popular among a race called the Gallifreyans. Time Lords. Jeunes-Viellards. Whatever they’re called.

Anyway, the crash caused us to materialize on a barren planet and we were joined by something called a time warden. The occupant of the TARDIS unit was some human-looking creature with a funny-looking hat and a goofy little smile. Called himself the Doctor, yes? Hnn. Should’ve asked for his credentials.

Now, normally in incidents like this a time warden would’ve sorted out are little, ah, chronological dispute. But the time warden who joined us took one look at me and decided it wasn’t worth his effort, yes? Left it to the two of us to sort it out.

Credit where it’s due, the Doctor wasn’t much intimidated by me, even when I picked him up to emphasize my point. Wasn’t sure if he was too dumb to be scared or had already seen his fair share of scary things. In any case, he didn’t anything valuable to bargain with (other than something called “jelly babies”), so I decided to bargain with his life. I was much bigger than him and, well, it was no contest, eh?

But the Doctor had a trick up his sleeve. Literally. He pulled out something called a tissue compression device and used it on me. Hurt like hell, yes? And to make matters worse, it dealt a great reduction in size. Now I was about the same height as the funny-looking man rather than the 30-feet tall behemoth I had become accustomed to being. Quite the downgrade, yes?

I made it clear to him that I was not happy with this change in the status quo and chased him across the barren wasteland. Gave quite the chase, yes? Eventually, he gave himself up and offered to make a deal with me. Always open to a good bargain, so I took him up on the offer, yes? Now that I was to scale with him, he offered to give me his time machine in exchange for his life. I figured that was as good a deal as any, so I accepted.

Big mistake, yes?

Now, it is true what they say about TARDIS units: they are definitely bigger on the inside. After he showed me around, he tried to leave but I stopped him; I had a feeling he was trying to trick me—perhaps by rigging the TARDIS to explode or something—so had him come along on a test drive, yes? I let him pick the destination and he did… but instead of sending us and the TARDIS through time, it only sent ME! 

Never trust a friendly doctor, yes? Wish I could say this was the last time I’d see him, too…

He ended up sending me to the year 8612 on Earth (figures, eh?). The TVA used to call it Earth-5555; might’ve changed it by now, yes? Wasn’t really fun there; ran into a group that called themselves the Dragon’s Claws and they blew me to pieces. Wouldn’t’ve happened if the Doctor hadn’t shrunk me, yes? Was recovered by a fellow named Spratt who rebuilt me with technology native to this futuristic world. Got myself a new blue color scheme out of it, yes? Though I am still nostalgic for the ol’ green…

For reasons unknown even to me, Spratt and I stuck around, with me offering out my services to the people of this particular planet and time. He insisted we were partners, but I didn’t much like that idea, yes? Still, he was useful. Helped with the bookkeeping, yes?

It was during this time that I ended up crossing paths with the ol’ Doctor again. A small mechanoid named Hob came to me on behalf of someone from the Doctor’s time called Josiah Dogbolter. Hob was made of pretty valuable material, and essentially sold himself to me in exchange for me killing the Doctor. What can I say? I like to harbor a grudge, yes?

Dogbolter’s people gave me a time machine that fit on my back, and after quite the trip through time I managed to find him playing dress-up to entertain others. Waste of time, yes? Anyway, I confronted him in his TARDIS only for the alarm to go absolutely nuts. Turns out, the Dogbolter fellow had double-crossed me! The time machine was actually a time BOMB and had been primed to kill the both of us!

Didn’t have much of a choice, yes? The Doctor and I had to work together. We brought the TARDIS to Dogbolter’s place and I had the Doc try to blast the damn thing off my back. Clasps were pretty sturdy though, yes? Luckily, the Doc had another idea; he used a handy tool of his own to undo the clasps and I tossed the bomb onto Dogbolter’s roof. Wish I could say I stayed to watch the explosion, but we had to hightail it out of there, yes? We then parted ways, although not without the Doctor giving me some lip about change and all that. Hnn. Only really paid half attention to it, yes?

We ended up on Earth in I want to say 1989, but sliding timescales mean that doesn’t mean much, yes? See, he had left me in Earth-616, which is somewhat adjacent to Earth-120185 only the Transformers aren’t really anywhere to be found. After the TVA merged them recently however, that might’ve changed. Hn. Retcons, am I right?

And of all the rooftops to drop me off at, what better and more convenient than the Four Freedoms Plaza, yes? Home to the Fantastic Four. No, not the Baxter Building; not at this point in the continuity, anyway.

Hnn. Wish I could say more, but employers are calling me again. Back to work, yes? Just as well; this is where my “fun” with superheroes starts to take off…. 

Death's Head: The World In Question - Entry 2

ENTRY TWO: WANTED - DEAD OR ALIVE

 Datalog 516-87-1962

Right. Where was I?

Hnn. Suppose I could jump here. It’s how you fellas found out about me in the first place, if I understand correctly.

By this point, I was in the universe Earth-9284. Now, you guys may know it by some other numbers: 616, 91274, 120185… that last one I think might be more correct. But see, ever since management, ah, shifted here at the TVA, there’s been some… renumbering going around. Relabeling. Some merging of certain redundancies. A regeneration, if you will. So, for shorthand, I’ll just be using 9284 for the universe where my career really took off.

Anyway, the year was 2007. Just a year or so after that Unicron bloke got blown up in this reality. I was having some downtime on Elpasos when I heard about a bounty that had been placed on the head of Galvatron, leader of the Decepticons. 10,000 shanix, and it was coming from the wallet of Rodimus Prime himself, the new head honcho over on Cybertron. I’d be a fool to pass up that kind of opportunity, yes?

After the barkeep gave me the rundown on why Rodimus wanted Galvatron gone so bad, I, ah, settled my tab with him and went on my merry way. Since no one had seen Galvatron in a while, I decided to hunt down his two lieutenants, Cyclonus and Scourge, yes? Wasn’t hard to find them, but they, ah, didn’t take well to me asking about where their leader had gone to. We had a little spat, yes, and eventually Cyclonus broke and spilled the beans. Told me that Galvatron had fled about twenty years in the past of some planet called Earth, something the three of them had done before, right? I found the time-jump mechanism they had used and went off hunting.

Now, Earth… that’s a funny little planet, yes? Doesn’t look like much but you’ll be hearing me talk a lot about it. The TVA are especially interested in its history, and most of them are the same species as the planet’s main inhabitants. Humans, yes?

Anyway, I ended up in the year 1987 where I materialized in front of an Autobot. Bumblebee, no? He didn’t take too well to my appearance because, see, with time-jump mechanisms, it kind of works like a swap feature. If someone travels to a particular time, that means someone in that time needs to be pulled out and placed in limbo until that person leaves. In this case, my arrival meant one of his Autobot friends disappeared, and he wasn’t too happy about that. We had a little quick draw and, well, I was just a little bit quicker, yes? Blew him up real good.

Hnn. That reminds me; Paradox told me that this created a little incongruity. See, when Earth-9284 was separate realities, the one called 91274 had a, ah, different fate for Bumblebee than what I put him through. Something to do with some group called Cobra, yes? Or was it G.I. Joe? Doesn’t really matter, I suppose, since it was ultimately decided that those alternative events didn’t really take priority since no one involved really wanted to acknowledge them, yes? Maybe they exist in some pocket reality; the TVA likes to shunt some of those incongruent events into their own corner.

Hn. Sorry for the tangent there.

After that little standoff, I made my way to the Decepticons’ little island base, I had a scuffle with that bloke Soundwave until I got him to squeal. He pointed me in the direction of Mount Verona, where ol’ Galvatron was having it out with some Autobot called Ultra Magnus, yes? When I got there, I found out that Rodimus Prime had decided to make his own trip to 1987 and was going after Galvatron himself. A violation of contract, yes? Guess Prime was a bit too blinded of his hatred for Galvatron to fully comprehend that. He tried to cancel the contract but business just doesn’t work that way, no?

In all the confusion, Galvatron got the jump on me and took out my right arm’s motor connection. Had to call it quits. I let Rodimus have his fun with Galvatron but promised him that he would be next if he managed to take out Galvatron and refused payment. Hope he got the message, yes?

Once I had gotten myself fixed up, I returned to find Rodimus at Galvatron’s mercy. Couldn’t have that, yes? Still needed my payment. We had a decent fight, ‘til one of the Autobots activated a device that sent us all back to the future. Well, all except Galvatron. Figures, eh?

Wish I could say that was the end of my interactions with these Transformers but life is never that simple, eh? 

Back in 2007, I was hanging around on Scarvix when the Decepticons approached me with an offer of 10,000 shanix in exchange for Rodimus Prime’s head. I was still harboring a grudge for that last incident, so I took the job, yes?

Got the jump on him at the Autobots’ own base and quickly overpowered him. Would’ve finished the job if it hadn’t been for those same two Decepticons I went after before. Cyclonus and Scourge, yes? Were pretty jealous over me being given the job to take out Prime. To make a long story short, Rodimus turned the tables and gave me the 10,000 shanix in advance in exchange for going after those two. What can I say? I’m easy to please, yes?

Took until the start of the new year on Earth when I finally found them on the planet of Junk. One of the natives managed to talk me out of killing them by speaking my language: money. Wish I hadn’t fallen for it; maybe life would have been much simpler, yes?

Ah, I don’t have the time to go over everything that happened next. Memory’s kind of a blur, also. Time travel will do that to you, yes? Had a chat with Shockwave, who hadn’t compensated me for the Rodimus job. Went back to Junk, there was a whole hubbub around Unicron’s disembodied head, which I guess was still alive? Hnn, doesn’t matter. Whole thing with a mindlink between him and Rodimus or something.

As I was dealing with Cyclonus and Scourge to complete my latest contract, the Junkions blew up Unicron’s head and created a time portal. I pulled them in with me but we got separated in the vortex. Figures, eh?

Anyway, I think that’ll do it for this log. Will revisit later to catch you up on what happened next, yes?