CHAPTER FIVE
In their countless years of service, the Wreckers had rotated through several roasters, its lineup ever changing. Some would step down and later rejoin, others would get the boot, while the rest either stayed for life or got killed in battle.
And right now, Impactor was seeing a lot of the latter.
He had prepared the Wreckers for this, building their numbers well into the hundreds for the next Great War. And yet they were already down to half that number due to one single Decepticon.
Scourge. The name had once belonged to an old warrior who served under Nova Prime before vanishing with the rest of the Ark's crew. Now it was being used by the ebony Decepticon that now mowed down their forces.
An apt name then, Impactor thought, albeit one I'm gonna curse to the Pit.
As he hid behind the rubble from a toppled building, accompanied by his old friend Roadbuster and a recent recruit named Springer, Impactor racked his brain module for another strategy, for their twenty-four others had failed.
"My Path Blaster's all outta juice," Roadbuster muttered. "Only got two frag grenades left. And I already used my Dimensional Decimator on that Vehicon horde."
"My gun's out too," Springer said, discarding his twin-barreled gun. "Still got my sword, but using it against that... nightmare would be like using a stick against a Cybernought."
Impactor cursed under his breath. "What were we thinking? Picking a fight with one of those super-soldiers... are we that dense?"
Roadbuster grunted. "Wouldn't blame ya'. We were told that he was a hundred bots-strong and so we brought a hundred wreckers. Turns out they meant a thousand bots-strong."
Frowning, Impactor turned in his position to see how the others were faring. "Horrible" was what he was expecting and was what he saw:
Topspin and Twin Twist laid at Scourge's feet, alive but in stasis lock. In the Decepticon's strong grip was Leadfoot, who was struggling to raise his gun at the elite warrior but was too weak to do so. Behind Scourge were Fastfix and Scoop, firing their weapons at him but failing to make even a scratch.
Suddenly, Scourge swung around and smashed Fastfix and Scoop with Leadfoot, sending all three of them falling to the ground as their bodies collided. The Decepticon then pivoted around and made eye-contact with Impactor, causing the latter's spark to leap.
However... there was something about the Decepticon's blood-red optics that gave Impactor pause. The way they stared at him, angled down slightly, he could have sworn there was a strong hint of... was it sadness? Remorse?
Then there was his build. A large windshield on his chest and a grill on his abdomen suggested that his alt mode was a truck. But the way they were arranged made him think of Optronix, who it surely could not have been.
Then it dawned on him.
In the midst of his realization, he barely noticed Roadbuster speaking. "We should retreat sir. If we stay here any longer, we-"
"We can't," Impactor said.
Roadbuster and Springer gave him puzzled looks. "Why?" the latter asked.
"Because Orion Pax needs us."
* * *
Once the Sojourner's Passage had landed near the Titan's corpse, Azimuth and her team of five disembarked from the ship and approached the fallen Titan. As they examined its rusted exterior, it was Swerve this time who voiced the question on everyone's mind.
"So, how are we going to get in?"
"There's a large opening on his left leg just barely large enough for all of us to fit through," Azimuth said. "We'll go through there and make our way to its head."
"Am I the only one creeped out by this?" asked Jolt. "I mean, going through some giant's body, not to mention one of a suppose ancestor... doesn't it seem like sacrilege?"
"Ah, don't be a scared cyber-cat, Jolty," said Livewire. "What's the worse that can happen? Mortilus force-feeds you cesium salami?"
Jolt tapped his fingers together. "Well... I'm not much fond of cesium salami."
Soon, the team of six were through the opening in the Titan's leg and into the giant's internal workings. To Perceptor's surprise, there were very few wires, circuits, and gears that were common within a Cybertronian. It was almost as if someone had tore them out.
Or if they were never there in the first place.
"Can you tell me anything about the metal material, Swerve?" Azimuth asked.
Swerve sighed. "And I here I was hoping you'd brought me along to break up the monotony."
He knelt down in front of the wall of the leg and ran a hand across it. He then brought out a cylindrical-shaped device, attached it to his visor, and examined the metal more closely.
After ten minutes had passed, Livewire said impatiently, "Well?"
"Well, besides the rust, our Titan friend has seemed to have been infected by Gold Plastic Syndrome, photo-degradation, Cybercrosis, and pretty much every disease you can name except space barnacles and scraplets."
"Is any of it contagious?" Perceptor asked.
"Surprisingly, no," Swerve replied. "Most of it seems to be subdued and only slowly spreading, probably because if its ginormous size."
"Glyph, can you figure out its age?" Azimuth asked.
"Just by looking at it, it has to be at least thousands of years old," Glyph replied. "I've seen relics from the First Golden Age younger than this. Also, there might be something of concern."
"What?"
"Swerve was wrong about there being no scraplets."
All six Autobots turned to see several dozen pairs of purple eyes staring at them, followed by the glistening of razor-sharp teeth.
"Well, this quest sure took a turn for the worse," Swerve muttered.
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