CHAPTER EIGHT
"Never before in my- our life have we seen something with such beauty."
11613/9, having reunited with his fellow Ammonites to form Paddox, looked in fascination at the factories of Vehicon. To either side of him and Sixshot, mechanical arms moved at rapid speed, moving Vehicon parts from the conveyor belts to attach to awaiting exostructures.
"This just what we need to crush Imperius Drax and his Terradores! The things we could create... we would be unstoppable."
Sixshot looked at the Ammonite combiner with a glint of slyness in his optics. "Would you like to see what's behind the scenes?"
"Yes, please," Paddox said eagerly. "We could create a thousand war machines with these."
"Indeed, you could," Sixshot said as he led the ex-Autobot to the factory's control room. "If you had the patience of a half-million years."
"We've been at war for sixteen million years. Another sixteen million wouldn't hurt."
Of course not, Sixshot thought, shaking his head with disdain. War is just another day at the park for you.
The two of them soon arrived at the control room. Covered in stainless steel and coated with silver paint, the only thing that stood out in its design was a control terminal placed before a wide window which oversaw the factory's inner workings.
"Help yourself," Sixshot said to Paddox. He couldn't help but find it pathetic as the Ammonite combiner eagerly rushed over to the terminal. Luckily he wouldn't have to suffer him for any longer.
Leaving Paddox to his machinations, Sixshot moved to a nearby intercom and contacted his superior. "Commander, this is Sixshot. The Autobots have been defeated and captured. Now then... you don't suppose you could put Skydive on the line, do you?"
* * *
"Well, this is a lovely predicament we're in."
"Shut up, Whirl," Sandstorm hissed, casting a worried glance at Thunderclash. The entire 92nd Battalion- or what was left of it- were on their knees with their arms behind their heads. Vehicons and Predators stood behind them with their weapons trained and ready to fire. Thunderclash himself was completely motionless and devoid of expression, making Sandstorm wonder if he was even still online.
His thoughts were distracted by the sudden burst of excitement from one of their Predator captors.
"Oh, yeah! We are not to be messed with!" cried a slate-colored mech.
"Sheesh, kick it down a notch, Wingblazer," said a magenta-colored Predator. "It's not like we conquered Cybertron or something."
"But we've just defeated the one and only Thunderclash!" said the one called Wingblazer. "That's, like, cooler than defeating someone like Dai Atlas or even Zeta Prime!"
"I wouldn't celebrate just yet," said a bright red Predator Sandstorm recognized as Snare. "My scanners are picking up the arrival of an Autobot ship."
"How many?" asked the Predator Sub-Commander Falcon.
"Just one," Snare replied. "And it doesn't look like a standard model. It's white and red."
"White and red?" exclaimed Wingblazer. "I thought all Autobot ships were orange. You know, that annoying, bright, sorta-not-gold orange."
"Not this one, though it definitely has the Elite Guard insignia on it."
"Elite Guard?" The magenta Predator snorted. "We just kicked the afterburner of one of their best. What makes them think one lousy-"
A blast from above silenced the Predator for good. The others, including their Autobot captives, looked up in alarm to see the Autobot ship Snare had described flying from the planet's stratosphere, unleashing a hail of fire.
"Talon, lead all of the Jet Vehicons against that ship!" Falcon barked. "The rest of you, prepare for battle, though I doubt this will take long."
"Wanna bet?"
Before any of his captors could react, Whirl jumped to his feet and grabbed the pointed pike his Predator guard wielded, stabbing them through the chest. He then lunged at Falcon and skewered the Commander's face with the pike, crushing his brain module and effectively killing him.
Turning to his startled comrades, Whirl said, "Hey, I did call this a 'lovely' predicament, didn't I?"
* * *
"What is the meaning of this, Megatron?"
The Decepticon leader grinned at his brother, restrained to an operating table and heavily scarred. "This is an experiment, Orion. An experiment that will benefit the future of our race."
Orion Pax glared at him with baleful eyes, something Megatron would have never expected to see from his righteous brother. "The only thing that will benefit our race would be for you to end this pointless war."
"Pointless?" Megatron scoffed. "I'd hardly say this war is pointless, brother. If you knew how things worked behind the scenes, you would know that everything to this war has a reason."
The glare did not waver. "And this experiment? What does this have to do with anything? And why did you select me?"
Megatron smiled. "Because you're the right person for the job." His holographic form turned to Stalker and gave a curt nod. "You may begin."
Stalker cackled. "I'll go get my crew."
As the Predator hurried off, Orion gave Megatron a panicked look. "Begin what? What are you going to do to me?"
"I have been working on a project," the Decepticon leader said. "For the past five years, I have been creating a series of super-warriors, whom I call the Warriors Elite. Unfortunately, almost all of them are either too dumb or too powerful for their own good. I need someone with intelligence to lead them."
"And what if I refuse?"
"Oh, that won't matter. The Achilles Virus and other fail-safes that Shockwave will install will ensure your sworn loyalty to me."
Orion blinked. "Shockwave? You mean the High Councilor?"
Megatron nodded. "Yes. I was able to sway him to my side with some... persuasion."
At that moment, Stalker returned with a group of Decepticon scientists. "Ready when you are, Lord Megatron," the former said.
Megatron grinned. "Take him to the Foundry."
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