CHAPTER FIVE
Livewire drove to a stop, having been traversing the underground tunnel for half an hour. By this point, she was sure that she had lost the two Seekers, or they should have at least lost interest in pursuing her. Converting to robot mode, she continued down the tunnel, wondering where it could lead.
Her answer soon came when she started to hear voices.
"-Vortex Generator was a great success, Lord Trannis. Tyger Pax is in ruins."
"Excellent work, Scrapper. Attach a plasma dynamic thruster so it can be transported to the work site."
"Done," Scrapper replied. "What is next on the agenda, my lord?"
"Continue construction on the rest. I expect it to be done in three solar cycles. Trannis, out."
Livewire heard the sound of a hologram fizzling out, followed by a loud groan.
"Three solar cycles? It took us nearly a month to finish the Vortex Generator!"
"Mute your voice box and get back to work, Long Haul!" Scrapper snapped. "The faster you move, the faster it gets done!"
At this point, Livewire had reached the room the voices were coming from and was peeking around the corner. What she saw stunned her.
Dozens of Constructicons- perhaps even hundreds- moved about, carrying tools, supplies, and blueprints. Scattered around them were large pieces of machinery; some were armaments, others appeared to be limbs... but the most prominent of them all was what made her spark leap.
It was a head.
Livewire took a step back. She had to get out of her and report her findings to High Command. Whatever the Constructicons were cooking up, it was going to be big... and no doubt devastating.
She turned to head back the way she had come, only to find a large Constructicon brute standing before her.
"Sorry, sweetie," he said with a malicious grin. "But we don't appreciate trespassers."
A well-aimed punch to her face sent Livewire tumbling into darkness.
* * *
The moment Orion Pax had returned to Rodion Security HQ, he knew something was wrong. When he walked through the front-door, Springarm was not stationed at his monitor like he normally was, nor was Wheelarch at his near their chief's office. When he entered said office, he quickly found out why.
Hanging from the ceiling by rusted chains were the headless corpses of Springarm, Wheelarch, and the rest of his fellow officers... all save for his boss, Ironhide.
"O-Orion?"
Orion turned around to see Ironhide slumped against a cabinet, energon leaking from his side. Orion hurried over to him and propped him up properly against the wall.
"Are you all right?" Orion asked. "How injured are you?"
Ironhide grunted. "I'll manage. They should never have underestimated a 'bot like me."
"Who's 'they?' What happened here?"
Sorrow filled the older Autobot's eyes as he spoke. "Optronix...."
Orion stepped away from Ironhide as if he had just uttered the Great Devourer's name. "Impossible... Optronix is dead."
Ironhide shrugged. "Couldn't mistake him. Granted, he's a bit more silver and has got a cannon the size of his arm...."
"Why was he here? Why did he do this?"
"Heck if I know. He and his buddies just barged in and started killing people. Then he got to me and...."
"And what?" Orion prompted when Ironhide's voice trailed off.
"...He asked me where you were. I didn't answer him, so... here I am. Probably left me alive so you could find me."
"Do you have any idea where he took off to?"
Ironhide shook his head. "I was in stasis lock until you arrived. Say, how about you get me patched up or something?"
With all of his strength, Orion lifted the old Autobot to his feet and helped walk him out of the office. "I'll take you to Ratchet," Orion said. "He has a clinic not far from here. In the meantime, I have to find Optronix."
"That's probably what he wants, son," Ironhide replied. "You'd be walking into a trap."
"Then I should better spring it before someone else does. Besides, if he wanted to kill me...." Orion paused as he searched for the right words. "Well, I haven't given him a good enough reason to do so."
* * *
Alpha Trion never really was fond of television. More often than not, it jaded the truth with bias and kept small but vital details hidden from those who needed to know it. That was why he preferred to stay buried in the past; some events were so long ago that no one cared how much of the truth slipped out.
Today, however, he was making an exception.
"...Tyger Pax in ruins. The Elite Guard managed to save a good number of citizens, but others remain either dead or missing."
While the ancient historian watched the upsetting footage of the destruction done to the city, his stalwart, diminutive partner rose up besides him, riding a mini-scaled hoverscooter.
"So much for an ever-lasting Golden Age," Beta Maxx said. "Still, two thousand years isn't so bad."
Ignoring the Mini-Con, Alpha Trion turned off the television set- which hadn't seen use in centuries until now- and brought out his journal. As he wrote in it, he casually said to Beta Maxx, "He's coming here."
The Mini-Con raised an eyebrow. "Who is?"
Suddenly, the door to the historian's office vanished, having been reduced to a pile of rubble. A large mech in silver and black strode in, a smoking fusion cannon strapped to his arm.
"Alpha Trion," he muttered.
The Autobot sage nodded. "Optronix. Please, take a seat."
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