Transformers Regenerated: War Stories X--Spectrum of Morality

   EDITED 12/15/2017 Changed Breakaway, Landquake, and Topspin's names to their SG counterparts. Kept Skyfall to prevent continuity errors and Heatwave since he's the only one who doesn't share his name with someone else.

SPECTRUMS OF MORALITY

   Timeline: Cycle 9614 (AD 1814) (200 Years Ago)

-

   It's great to be alive.

   Quakebreak grinned as he observed the empty battlefield. Thanks to the Aerialbots' air support, the Autobots had managed to scare off the Decepticon forces on Urtusk and liberate the natives.

   Of course, none of it could have been done without him.

   Quakebreak moved away from the scenery and found his commanding officer, Silverbolt, speaking with the Urtuskian leader.

   "Think nothing of it, High Shaman," the Aerialbot leader said. "We're simply doing what we can to protect other worlds from our war."

   "We greatly appreciate it," the Urtuskian said, his face-trunk curling up. "However, I understand that the Galactic Council has recently put you on their blacklist."

   Silverbolt frowned. "Indeed. Either way, I do hope the Nebulon Republic will tolerate our presence in their territory."

   Quakebreak grinned as he interrupted the conversation. "They certainly will if they know that it was Quakebreak who saved the day!"

   Silverbolt rolled his eyes at Quakebreak's outburst. "All you did notably was save those younglings."

   "Which we greatly appreciate, by the way," the High Shaman said.

   Quakebreak nodded, still grinning. "And by saving those younglings, I've saved the futures of millions. I'm sure the Nebulons will greatly appreciate that!"

   "Just get back to the Darkstar, Quakebreak," Silverbolt snapped.

   The Aerialbot saluted his commander and made his way back to the ship. He simply loved being an Autobot; saving lives, preserving futures, laying out the foundations for peace....

   Nothing could make him happier.

*  *  *

   Nothing could have made Landfall any more upset than he already was.

   As the Kalis' Lament traveled through hyperspace, having made a fast getaway from Urtusk, he deeply wished that he was back in the city the ship was named after, working at the energon refineries.

   It wasn't like he hated fighting- he had always carried an interest in combat. But the constant in-fighting and back-stabbing that occurred within the Decepticon ranks was quickly growing tiresome. He never knew when or if one of his comrades would kill him just to accomplish a personal goal.

   Seated in the Thanatos-class ship's passenger bay, Landfall glanced at his fellow Decepticon Oil Slick, whose domed helmet reflected the light of his messaging device.

   "Who are you messaging, Slick?" Landfall asked.

   "A pal of mine," Oil Slick replied. "Name's Spinaway."

   "What's he messaging you about?"

   "He's got some guy leaking him data from the Autobots. Most of it is chemical formulas. He's the one who leaked the Gideon's Glue formula."

   "Ah." Landfall repressed a shudder as he recalled that horrible day on Babu Yar. Despite being one of the Decepticons who had served under Gideon, he couldn't help but pity the Autobots that had fell then.

   Some days, though he would never vocally admit it, he almost wish he wasn't a Decepticon.

*  *  *

   There was never a day that Spinaway wished to be anything but a Decepticon.

   Seated at his station on Ijurn, his fingers flew across his keypad, accessing encrypted Autobot channels and hacking into terminals in mere seconds. He couldn't have found a better pastime than this.

   "Incoming call," a monotonic voice said. "Source: Fireball."

   Spinaway accepted the call. The text on his monitor was soon replaced by a silhouetted face. A heavily modulated voice spoke.

   "Spinaway. I have another formula that may interest you."

   Spinaway smirked. "Another one, Fireball? Going by the last one you sent, I must say that you Autobots came up with some pretty scary stuff."

   The silhouetted Fireball tilted his head. "Well, a good majority of these were ones rejected by the Ethics Committee. Anyway, I'm sure your commanders will find this one interesting... specifically Thunderwing."

   Spinaway lifted a brow. "Thunderwing?"

   Fireball nodded. "We- the Autobots have been keeping optics on him ever since that Dark Energon incident on Ijurn a few centuries ago... not to mention the one on Styx when we were nearly two decades into the war."

   "I see. So this formula involves Dark Energon?"

   "I've... reworked it slightly so that it could."

   Spinaway smirked again. "Very well. Thank you for this info, Fireball."

   The Autobot traitor nodded while Spinaway downloaded the data before ending the connection. He then got out of his seat and headed for his commander's office.

   If this data was legit, it could be what the Decepticons needed to win this war.

*  *  *

   The data was legit. He had no doubt that it would ensure the Decepticons' victory.

   Skyfall slumped in his chair. This was his breaking point; he had to stop leaking info to the 'Cons, for it was becoming clear that he would not be getting anything out of it anytime soon.

   It had started with Ironfist's formula for mycopropelene- better known as Gideon's Glue. He was not sure what had compelled him to leak it- or the formulas that followed- but he had always regretted it whenever he ended the call.

   There was only one sure way to end this; he had made so many mistakes and he could not bear to spend his life in prison or even through spark extraction. He had to ensure that he would never cause any more trouble again.

   He unclipped his blaster from his hip. He aimed it at his head. He pulled the trigger.

*  *  *

   He had pulled the trigger.

   Heatwave looked down at the unconscious form of Skyfall. Kimia's security personnel had traced an encrypted call sent to the Decepticons to this office, and had dispatched Heatwave to handle him. As he bent down to pick up Skyfall's body, Heatwave shook his head in mild disgust.

   There was one in every faction: an Autobot who was pure good; a Decepticon who was pure evil; an Autobot swayed by the side of evil; and a Decepticon swayed by the side of good. And then there were bots like himself.

   Who just wanted it all to end.

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories IX--Seeking for Glory

SEEKING FOR GLORY

--Cycle 9114 (Year 300 of the Great War)--

   If someone were to mention the Seekers, even when among the highest ranks of the Decepticon army, the first and perhaps only names to cross the mind would be Starscream, Thundercracker, Skywarp, Ramjet, Dirge, and Thrust. Every once in a while, a name like Slipstream, Sunstorm, or even Acid Storm may crop up.

   But to bring up the names Nacelle, Bitstream, or Hotlink would only get blank stares.

   Pretty much any Seeker who was not one of the "Big Six" (or nine, in some cases) were considered mere cannon fodder at best. No one cared about who they were, where they came from, or what would happen to them. They were right at the bottom of the food chain, along with nameless Vehicon and Genricon troopers.

   And yet, the strange thing about it was, none of said Seekers cared about it. They didn't mind if they weren't going to make it into the history records or were not going to receive a statue in the Hall of Heroes. None of them desired such fame.

   None of them, that is, save for Contrail.

   To think that a mere three centuries ago, he was a member of Cybertron's High Council, sitting among the likes of Halogen, Dai Atlas, and even Sentinel Prime, only to be reduced to a no-name Seeker. He craved for more than just that. No, he deserved more. To have been a confidant to the Prime himself, he deserved to be in the position of Air Commander instead of that fool Starscream. He deserved to be scheming with the likes of Megatron and Shockwave.

   He deserved to be more than just a Seeker.

*  *  *

   "Did you hear the news?"

   Hotlink bit back a fiery retort. Without looking up from the weapon he was in the middle of working on, he calmly said, "What news, Bitstream?"

   The light blue Seeker glanced around them before speaking in a low, conspiratorial whisper. "That Contrail is planing a coup."

   Hotlink scoffed. "Didn't he try that five years ago before getting cold servos?"

   "This time he's serious," Bitstream said. "I think, anyway. Least he sounded serious."

   "Wait." Hotlink looked up from his work. "He told you?"

   Bitstream smiled weakly. "Not directly. I was doing my standard routine- you know, hack into the Autobots' computer systems- and ended up finding an encrypted message sent to Autoclave from Contrail."

   "Ah. Who's the coup against then? Megatron?"

   Bitstream shook his head. "Starscream. Apparently Contrail wants the role of Air Command for himself."

   Hotlink snorted. "Seriously? Does he really think Megatron's gonna accept and trust him as Air Commander after just shooting Screamer in the face?"

   "See, that's the thing: he's pulling out everything to make sure Megatron doesn't know."

*  *  *

   The plan was something even Shockwave would be proud of.

   Starscream was due to arrive at Seeker Orbital Base Iota in less than a megacycle. Upon arrival, he would no doubt wish to speak with Contrail and, perhaps, be offered a glass of energon. If that was the case, Autoclave would provide him energon that had been modified to clog Startscream's intake systems and thus kill him.

   However, if the Air Commander declined the energon, then the meeting would go on as usual. Once it had ended, and if it did so on good terms, then Contrail would pat Starscream on the back and attach a bomb, which would detonate once Starscream had left the office. If the meeting ended badly, then the Air Commander would likely storm out of the office and be shot point-blank by Nacelle. 

   Regardless of what happened, the result would be the same and the Seekers would provide an alibi to Megatron and no doubt ensure Contrail's ascension to Air Commander.

   It was, all in all, a fool-proof plan.

*  *  *

   "Would you like a glass of energon?"

   "No," Starscream said bitterly.

   Contrail frowned as he set aside the poisoned energon. So much for Plan A. Taking a seat across from the Air Commander, the gold and black Seeker then said, "What brings you here to my station?"

   "There have been rumors of a coup against me."

   Contrail stiffened slightly. "By whom?" he asked innocently.

   "The accounts vary," Starscream hissed. "Some say Thunderwing, others say Onslaught, and even a few say some of my own Seekers."

   "That's preposterous," Contrail said. "We are all loyal to you and you only, Air Commander."

   There was a twinkle in Starscream's optic. "Can you truly speak for all of your Seekers, Contrail?"

   The gold Seeker stared at him in silence, feigning uncertainty. When he did not speak, Starscream continued.

   "Anyway, in case any of these rumors are true, I need you to be on the lookout. Anyone on this station could be against me. Take the one called Bitstream for instance. For all we know, he could be devising schemes via his cyber-interface."

   Contrail scratched his chin. "It's a possibility."

   "Or what about Autoclave and Hotlink? They're always tinkering away with their little inventions... one which could be used against me. Or perhaps Nacelle and-"

   "With all due respect, Air Commander, you're being a bit paranoid. No one would have the circuitry to assassinate someone like you."

   Starscream smirked, the same twinkle in his eye. "Not even you, the former High Councilor who survived Simanzi and braved the Corroder?"

   Contrail masked his apprehension with a smile. "Perhaps, but I am far too humble to even consider assassinating you for personal gain."

   Seemingly satisfied with this answer, Starscream rose out of his seat, Contrail doing the same. "In that case, I'll be taking my leave," the Air Commander said. "Thank you for sparing the time, and please do be on the lookout."

   "It was my pleasure," Contrail said as he moved to pat Starscream on the back. The Air Commander moved in a blur, seizing Contrail's arm and twisting it behind his back. As the gold Seeker cried out, Starscream pushed him face-first onto his desk and aimed a null-ray at his head.

   "The pleasure is mine," Starscream hissed into his ear before pulling the trigger.

*  *  *

   "I always knew Contrail would come to a bad end," Autoclave muttered as he, Hotlink, Bitstream, and Nacelle stood over their late commander's lifeless body. "I only stuck with his plan to humor him."

   "How did Starscream know about the plot anyway?" Hotlink mused aloud.

   "I told him," Bitstream said, receiving surprised looks from the others. "The moment I came across Contrail's message to Autoclave, I forwarded it to Starscream. I timed it good with his planned meeting."

   Nacelle smirked. "So you admit that you're loyal to Starscream?"

   "No, I just think Contrail would make an even worse Air Commander than him."

   The harsh laughter of the four Seekers echoed throughout the base.

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories VIII--The Day It Rained

THE DAY IT RAINED

   Timeline: Cycle 9104 / AD 1304 (710 Years Ago)

-

   Rung sighed as he sat down near the jittery red and yellow Autobot that was his patient, who laid on a berth. Picking up a model of the Steelhaven and fiddling with it, he calmly said, "Tell me how it went, Flattop."

   The Autobot's faceplate was filled with anguish. "Oh spark, must I? It was so awful... so many dead... I can't possibly recall it all."

   "Trust me," Rung said soothingly as he readjusted a rear thruster on the model. "It will make you feel better."

   "How can it?" Flattop snapped, his voice stricken with grief. "What I saw was horrible; how could it calm me?" He placed his head in his hands. "You weren't there. You wouldn't understand."

   "I would," Rung said. "Because I went through this with the Duobots and Subsea and the other survivors. Please, all you have to do is tell me how it went... through your eyes."

   Flattop was silent for a moment. Finally, he looked up, though not directly at Rung, and spoke. "I... was under Flame's command. We went to Babu Yar to apprehend the Decepticon commander Gideon. However, the moment we touched ground... it started raining."

   "Natural rain?" Rung asked, though he already knew the answer.

   "No," Flattop murmured, his body shaking. "It was red and burned like Pit when it touched us. We all looked up to see three Seekers- we call them the Rainmakers- pouring large vats of this... this... acid onto us, and we started to disintegrate.

   "Horsepower was the first to go down, being left as nothing but an exoskeleton." Flattop shuddered at the memory. "Fusion covered us while Flame rushed me and the others to shelter. Then... Fusion fell."

   Flattop sat up with a jolt at this recollection but Rung gently pushed him back down. After shuddering violently for a while, the survivor spoke again.

   "The rain stopped once we were in a cave, but we dared not to venture out again. While the Duobots tried to establish communication with Cybertron, Flame checked our wounds and found little damage done by Gideon's Glue."

   "'Gideon's Glue?'" Rung asked.

   Flattop's expression was part-stoic, part-terrified. "Subsea coined that name because, not long after Flame had evaluated us, Chameleon began to dissolve. Turns out the rain had stuck to him, like glue, and was taking its time finishing him off."

   "So that's why you and the others got new bodies shortly after returning."

   Flattop nodded. "Not long after, Shock and Ore were successful in getting through to Cybertron and the Battlestar was sent to rescue us. The rain started again when it landed, but Sky Garry was quick enough to retrieve us and take us back to the ship before it could... do any harm...."

   Rung nodded solemnly. "I can see how this incident could leave a haunting impact on you, but you must know that the deaths of Horsepower, Fusion, and Chameleon were not your fault. There was nothing you could do to stop the 'rain.'"

   Flattop did not respond. Rung raised a worried eyebrow.

   "Flattop?" he said as he stood up. "I know what happened on Babu Yar is hard for you to bear, but as I said, it's not-"

   He suddenly froze as he looked down at his patient. Flattop's optics were dim and a red liquid was oozing down his deactivated face....

*  *  *

   "I'm telling you, sirs! I did flush out all of the mycopropelene!"

   Emirate Xaaron, chairman of the Ethics Committee, frowned as he placed his hands together, staring sternly at Ironfist. "That's not what the reports from Babu Yar are saying. According to Flame, the properties and effects of the 'Gideon's Glue' which rained down there were exactly like the chemical you had created."

   "And destroyed," Ironfist said emphatically. "I destroyed all of the original files and the samples I had created."

   "Then how did the Decepticons get their hands on it?" Trailbreaker asked skeptically.

   Ironfist threw his hands up in the air. "Pit if I know-"

   "Language such as that is not tolerated here," Xaaron said sharply. Then, with a sigh, he said, "However, we can't just go throwing accusations blindly at people."

   "Why not?" Animus asked. "I say the answer's right there. He created the myco-whatever and is the only one who knew the formula. He must've leaked it to the 'Cons!"

   "Even so, Animus, we must follow protocol. I'll ask for a full investigation to be commenced. Until then, everyone is innocent until proven guilty."

   With that, Xaaron turned to Ironfist and said, "You are dismissed."

*  *  *

   "You okay, Skyfall?"

   Moving about nervously in his workplace, the red and white Autobot jumped and whirled around to see his co-worker Atomizer standing outside the open doorway.

   "Huh? Oh, I'm fine," Skyfall said. "Just, uh, hoping Ironfist's meeting with Xaaron and his ilk is going well."

   "It didn't," Ironfist said, walking up from behind Atomizer. As the latter left, the former stepped into Skyfall's workplace, a sullen look on his face.

   Skyfall shifted his feet. "So, uh, did they arrest you for the Babu Yar incident?"

   "Do I have a pair of stasis cuffs on me?" Ironfist retorted. He then sighed. "No, they didn't. But Animus and Trailbreaker seem pretty sure about it having been me that leaked the formula to the 'Cons."

   "That's total scrap metal," Skyfall scoffed. "Why would a good-natured Autobot like you betray to the Decepticons?"

   "I don't know," Ironfist muttered. "Though I'm sure those three would come up with something."

   "Yeah. Well, it's like you- or rather, Fisitron- always say: 'Time you make a stand.'"

   Ironfist stared at him oddly. "I've never said that."

   "Sure he did- or rather, Impactor did in datalog 97 of Wreckers: Declassified."

   Ironfist continued to stare at him before laughing. "You've got me there, pal. Good thing I've got you around to keep my spirits up."

   "Sure is," Skyfall chuckled. "Primus knows where you would be without me."

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories VII--Ghosts

GHOSTS

   Timeline: Cycle 8834 - 980 Years Ago (5 Years after Volume VII)

-

   Deadlock sighed as he paced around in his cell. For the past ten years ever since his capture, he had been transferred from prison to prison, planet to planet. Now he was here on Elba, at the Autobot rehabilitation facility Garrus-9. Although it was more decidedly more comfortable than most prisons he had been to, it was no trip through the Helix Gardens either. 

   Sighing for the dozenth time in five minutes, he plopped himself onto his berth, sitting dejectedly against the wall.

   "Might as well shut yourself into stasis lock, pal," said an inmate from the cell next to his. "These Autobots aren't going to release you out of pity."

   "I'm fully aware of that, thanks," Deadlock snapped. After a moment's silence, he then said, "Why aren't you in stasis lock?'

   "I trust these Autobots about as far as I can throw them," the inmate said. "You never know if they'll decide to execute you while you're sleeping just for the heck of it."

   Deadlock rolled his eyes at the mech's paranoia. "So how do you pass the time then?"

   The other Decepticon paused before saying, "I carve drawings into the wall. You?"

   Deadlock hesitated as well before answering, "I reminisce about my past."

   "Is it an exciting past?"

   Deadlock snorted. "Depends on your definition."

   "Well, if you're looking for ways to pass the time, why don't we exchange stories of ourselves."

   "Why would you care about my stories?"

   "I'm out of space for carvings."

   Deadlock smirked. "All right, fine. I'll humor you. It all started on the streets of Rodion...."

-Twenty-one years ago-

   "You pathetic pieces of scrap."

   He winced as one of the two thugs kicked him again, harder than the last one. He struggled to get back up only to be kicked down again.

   "Honestly, Runamuck, where do these guys come from?"

   "Don't know, don't care." The white and orange one called Runamuck cracked his wrists. "Long as they make good target practice."

   The other thug, who was black and red, snorted out a laugh. "Good point there."

   He punctuated this with another kick and Drift could feel his internal systems starting to fail. He opened his mouth to cry out for help but was cut off as Runamuck grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up from the ground.

   "Say, Runabout," the thug said. "What noise do ya think he'll make if we tear him in half?"

   Runabout chuckled. "Lengthwise or at the waist?"

   "Whichever."

   However, before the two brutes could go through with their next action, a calm voice called from behind them. "Unhand that innocent bot."

   The duo turned to see an old mech standing there, colored in white and gold. Runabout glowered at him.

   "What'cha gonna do about it, old man? The authorities ain't here to cover you skidplate."

   The stranger smirked. "I do not need the authorities for protection."

   Runamuck growled as he released Drift. "We'll see about that after I smash in that smug face of yours!"

   He charged towards the gold mech and threw his fist at his face, which the stranger easily deflected before tripping the thug with his long legs. He then did the same to Runabout as the latter attempted to tackle him. He then easily put both of them out of commission by throwing them into a parked armored transport, knocking them out cold.

   The struggle having ended as quickly as it had begun, the stranger turned to Drift and smiled as he offered him his hand. Drift weakly took it and was gently pulled up to his feet, though he had some difficulty in standing.

   "Thanks," he murmured. "Can't say I've ever met someone who was concerned for my safety."

   The stranger chuckled. "If such people are rare, then you'd better improve on your defensive techniques."

   Drift snorted. "How? I can't join the Seekers 'cause of my alt mode, and the Autotroopers have turned down my application five times already. Hardly anyone will accept me."

   The stranger smiled warmly. "I wouldn't say 'hardly.'"

   Drift gave him an odd look. "What are you-? Wait, who are you again?"

   "I am Sensei Yoketron, Grand Master of the Cyber-Ninja Corps."

-Present-

   "Yoketron... I've heard that name before."

   Deadlock smirked. "I'd be pretty surprised if you hadn't. He was a pretty big deal back in the day; offered a place on the High Council at least twice a year and declined them each time."

   "So he taught the Cyber-Ninja arts?"

   "Yeah, just the basics though," Deadlock said. "It wasn't long after he took me in under his wing that the Great War started. I once again tried to enlist into the Autobot army, but they still counted me as an Empty and thus refused to accept me yet again.

   "So, left with little choice, I hitched a transport due for the neutral territories. It then got attacked by Decepticons and they killed all of the Autobots on board and took non-military bots like me prisoner."

   "And they conscripted you, didn't they? Why?"

   "Because the leader of the raid- a mech called Banzai-Tron- had also been a student of Yoketron and saw potential in me and took me in," Deadlock replied. "I didn't last long under his command, though; got transferred to Turmoil and eventually became his second-in-command. Got my name changed from Drift to Deadlock, too."

   "So you never saw Yoketron again?"

   Deadlock frowned. "I did, actually. One of my first tasks was to assassinate him. I was a pathetic Autobot-at-heart back then, though, so I couldn't bear the though of killing him in person."

   "I see. So what did you do?"

   Deadlock sighed. "I set the dojo on fire."

   "Did you then make sure he was dead?"

   "Yes. I dug through the rubble and found his mutilated body. He was still alive, but his spark was very faint. He looked up at me and... said it wasn't my fault." He put his head in his hands, trying not to shake with the emotional regret he now felt rising up within him. "Then... then he died."

   His fellow inmate was silent. After a few minutes, Deadlock said. "Anyway... that's my story. What about-"

   "All right, that's it!" An Autobot guard came storming up to his cell. "Who the Pit are you talking to? You've been rambling on and on for half a mega-cycle now!"

   Deadlock frowned. "Just having a friendly chat with a fellow inmate."

   "What inmate? You're the only one on this block!"

   Deadlock's eyes widened. "Really? But-"

   "No 'buts'. Just mute it, ya cog!"

   Deadlock fell silent as the guard strode away. Later on, though he knew better than to speak up, he could swear that he heard fingers carving into steel....

-

   Author's note (9/2/2015): The Autobot guard in this story is/was intended to be Rollout.

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories VI--The Many Deaths of Ultra Magnus

THE MANY DEATHS OF ULTRA MAGNUS
Simanzi, Cycle 8830

   "Stabilize him, First Aid! His spark is shrinking by the second!"

   "I'm doing what I can, Fixit!" First Aid cried as attached jumper cables to the shrinking green spark. "Maybe we can jumpstart him if we have a compatible spark."

   "No use," said Ambulon. "I don't think anyone here is a Point One Percenter. And even if there was, it'd be too late."

   Although he refused to admit it aloud, First Aid knew that Ambulon was right. Left with no options, the three medics simply gave up and mournfully watch as their once-friend's spark shrunk down into the size of a pebble before dissipating completely.

   Ultra Magnus was dead.

*  *  *

   "Explain the battle to us."

   Seated before three high-ranking Autobots- Ambassador Crosscut, Chief Justice Tyrest, and General Thunderclash- Rotorstorm found himself unable to adopt the calm persona he always portrayed. Nonetheless, he spoke.

   "It was horrible, sirs. When we got to Simanzi after receiving the distress signal, we found a giant smelting pool in the center of the city. The 'Cons had thousands of civilians poised on the brim, ready to push them in at the slightest provocation. Optimus Prime had us split up and approach the Crucible- that's what they called it- from different sides.

   "I was with Ultra Magnus and Chuffer when we started to approach the Crucible's southwest side. A sniper spotted us and took out Chuffer, forcing Magnus and I to make a shortcut through the Sludge Pits."

   He sighed as he recalled the terrible moment that happened next. "We were five miles away from the Crucible when a Cybernought suddenly emerged right in front of us. It fired a blast of energy from its palm and... Magnus was killed."

   "We haven't received complete confirmation that that is the case," Thunderclash said. "I have faith in the medics that they'll be able to revive him."

   Rotorstorm cocked his head. "Are you sure, sir? I mean... no one could have survived an attack like that."

   "Trust us, Rotorstorm," Tyrest said with a smile. "Ultra Magnus has survived worse."

Clemency, Cycle 8954

   Ultra Magnus braved the storms of Clemency as he led his teams towards the Nightmare Engine. Of course, the storms were most likely a fabrication, taken from his own mind. The others on his team did not seem to be noticing any storm, but were instead reacting to other unseen horrors.

   "Remember what Optimus said!" he called out over the false roll of thunder. "That which is, isn't!"

   "Easy for you to say!" said the Duobot Shock as he swat at an invisible swarm of cyberbees. "These things sting like the real deal!"

   Ignoring him, Ultra Magnus said, "Powerdashers, the Nightmare Engine is nearly in range. I want you to disable it while we distract the 'Cons stationed there."

   "Er, that may be a problem, chief," said the Powerdasher leader Cromar. "Scanners are picking up a Decepticon transport approaching our position."

   Ultra Magnus looked up to indeed see a Decepticon transport hovering over them, flanked by a Seeker squadron. It almost made him wish he had his jet alt mode back to take them on. However, his days as Bolt were over; he was now much, much more.

   The transport's boarding ramp lowered and he grimaced at what it revealed: at least a dozen K-Class Decepticons.

   "Clear the area!" he cried out to the others just as the suicide bombers jumped off of the transport and converted into their bomb forms. Looking up again, Ultra Magnus realized that one of the K-Class 'Cons had his own name crudely painted on the bomb's shell.

   It was the last thing he saw before the suicide bomber made contact.

Hell's Point, Cycle 9099

   "Ultra Magnus!"

   Standing near the bow of the Decepticons' experimental war cruiser that now threatened Cybertron, Ultra Magnus pummeled down two Vehicon troopers before turning to face the five imposing Decepticons standing before him: Heretech, Sixshot, Overlord, Black Shadow, and Killmaster. The Warriors Elite.

   A normal Autobot would have trembled in fear in their presence. But Ultra Magnus was not a normal Autobot, and he was definitely not trembling. In fact... he was smiling.

   Heretech- the unofficial leader of the Warriors Elite- narrowed his eyes a him. "What have you got to smile about? This ship is about to deploy its wormhole generator and you're smiling. Mind explaining why?"

   Ultra Magnus tapped his chin. "Hmm. Perhaps because I'm standing in front of this cruiser's exhaust vent. To shoot at me, and thus it, could possible destroy the cruiser itself. I highly doubt Megatron would give you permission to perform such an act."

   "Would he?"

   The voice was not Heretech's or Overlord's or any of other Warriors Elite. No, it was the unmistakable voice of Megatron himself... and it was coming from the gun which Heretech now held at his forehead.

   Seconds before his death, the Autobot once known as Datum, realized that, for the first and last time, a strategy of his had failed.

Cybertron, Cycle 9614

   Minimus Ambus sighed as he stacked up the chairs in The Circle, closing down the joint for the night. With the war getting worse each year, business had become slow. Fewer and fewer patrons walked through the doors and even those who did come only stayed long enough to refuel.

   He stared out the window to observe the darkened streets of the city. Every day, whenever he went to recharge, he dreamed about being on the front-lines, fighting alongside the likes of Grimlock, Impactor, or the immortal Ultra Magnus.

   "Immortal" was perhaps an exaggeration, but he had heard plenty of tales from patrons, about how Ultra Magnus survived an encounter with a Cybernought, or with the Warriors Elite, or even the Fast-Folding Sun. He had heard the stories frequently enough to make him believe them.

   Ambus heard the sound of the door opening, but did not turn to face the newcomer. "Sorry, pal," he said. "We're closed. Come back tomorrow."

   "I came here knowing that you'd be off work."

   Ambus turned around to face the arrival... and froze. Standing before him was Chief Justice Tyrest.

   A warm smile crossed the judge's face. "Minimus Ambus, I have an offer for you."

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories V--Seeds of an Empire

SEEDS OF AN EMPIRE

   Timeline: 990 Years Ago (shortly after Volume VI)

-

   The one and former ruler of the Decepticon Empire, trapped in the body of a monster, hovered in the middle of outer space. Unable to move or speak, he secluded himself to his thoughts, plotting revenge against the one he had thought like a son and reminiscing about days long since past.

   Trannis, the once and former emperor, dreamed of times he longed to live again.

-Four thousand years ago-

   "'Golden Age,' my afterburner," the blue and maroon miner growled as his pickaxe struck the rocks of Kaon's subterranean levels. "I wouldn't call a world run by slavery exactly golden."

   "You hit the nail on the head, kid," said a green and black one. "It's been like this for forever and I doubt it's gonna change anytime soon."

   D-16 ignored their conversation as he worked away. It was the same discussion he had been hearing for the past nine centuries. Every time a new guy came in, the older ones filled them in why they were working and why they would never stop. Thanks to the caste system established by Nominus Prime, they were chained to Kaon's mines for the rest of their lives.

   "You'd think a guy called Guardian Prime would fix it," said a red and tan mech.

   D-67, the green and black one, snorted. "Sure, maybe in Iacon and the Tri-Torus States. But forget about here and the rest of the Badlands. To them, we're just-"

   The mines fell silent when a violet glow suddenly illuminated them. All heads turned to D-16, who stood over the ore he had just uncovered.

   "What the Pit is that?" D-91 asked.

   "Kinda looks like energon except... darker," MD-03 murmured.

   "Hey, what's the holdup?"

   The miners turned to see their manager, a black and purple mech called Backbite, push his way through to the ore. All of the miners hastily moved to get out of his way.

   All save for D-16.

   Upon reaching him, Backbite scowled. "Know your place, Genericon. Get out of my way."

   D-16 stared at him for a long moment before stepping aside. Backbite's eyes widened upon seeing the glowing ore.

   "By the AllSpark," he murmured. "What is this?"

   As he moved to touch it, D-16 suddenly raised his pickaxe and drove it into the manager's back. Backbite screamed as the rogue miner dragged the axe's blade down his spine. D-16 then pulled the tool out and swiftly decapitated the manager.

   As Backbite's head rolled to the ground and alarms began to blare out, D-16 turned to his fellow miners and bellowed, "The time has come, my brothers! For too long have we been restrained by this unjust law! Today, we take arms and defy our so-called masters! Who's with me?"

   The roar of the gathered miners was louder than the alarmed cries of the arriving Autotroopers.

   D-16 grinned. "Then let us begin."

*  *  *

   "This better be worth my time, Delta."

   Delta Magnus frowned as he walked into Guardian Prime's office. "I'm afraid it it, sir."

   The Autobot leader looked up from his work, optics narrowed. "Out with it, then."

   "An uprising of sorts has broken out in Kaon. The miners have executed their managers and are now rioting in the streets."

   "Is that all? Can't the Autotroopers contain it?"

   Delta Magnus shook his head. "Dozens of them have been slayed already. Perhaps I should dispatch the Triorian Guard?"

   "Handle the situation however you see fit," Guardian said gruffly. "I doubt this revolt will last longer than a day."

*  *  *

   "Sector Seven is clear," the Overcharge trooper reported to its superior. "That should be all of the rebels."

   The leader of the Triorian Guard unit, a purple and tan mech of the same body-type as the Overcharge, smirked as he regarded the captured miners. "Thought you could revolt that easily, eh? Sure, those Autotroopers aren't that hot in a fight, but us Triple Changers? You'd have to be suicidal to go against us."

   Then, with a sneer, he said, "Whose bright idea was this revolt, anyway?"

   None of the miners responded. At the commander's gesture, one of the Overcharge troopers raised its null gladius sword and drove it into a miner's spark, killing him.

   "Only a revolt leader would care about his pals," the commander grunted. "Unless you truly are that heartless of a bot, then we're going to see some-"

   "I started the revolt," D-16 spoke out.

   The commander smirked as he made his way towards him. "And what do they call you, ya pile of slag?"

   D-16 did not answer, refusing to identify with his mundane designation.

   The Triple Changer pressed the barrel of his rifle against D-16's head. "Answer me or you'll go down in history as a nameless martyr."

   "My name is Trannis."

   The commander's optics blinked and then he laughed. "Oh, that's rich. Giving yourself a proper name... if it's gonna be anything, it's gonna be Scrapheap."

   Turning to his lieutenant, the commander said, "Have these jokers transported to Pyrovar. If they get the rebellious urge again, they won't have much to take over there."

   The lieutenant nodded and barked at the Overcharge troopers to get to work. Despite the situation, D-16- newly-identified as Trannis- felt a grin creep onto his face. This was sure to be merely the seeds of what was to come....

-Present-

   And he had been right. Upon arrival on Pyrovar, Trannis and his new-found followers executed their Overcharge captors and laid out the foundations of what would become the Decepticon Empire.

   The name "Decepticon" itself was derived from Trannis' plan to obtain resources for their empire from the Autobots and other worlds via deceit. The last and greatest deception culminated with the assassination of Guardian Prime and thus the start of the Great War.

   First Great War, Trannis bitterly reminded himself. He had no doubt that Megatron was attempting to repeat history by murdering Sentinel Prime and declaring another war against the Autobots. Having already named himself after one of the Thirteen, he was not much surprised.

   Now all he could do was bide his time and wait. One day, he would have his revenge against Megatron and be able to reclaim the Decepticon throne for himself. Until then, he had only his memories to keep himself occupied....

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories IV--Hunters

HUNTERS

   Timeline: 990 Years Ago (shortly before Volume IV)

-

   "Prisoner transfer from Garrus-9, eh?"

   "Yeah," the Autobot officer Stungun muttered. "Calls himself Lockdown. He's the guy who tried to kill Sentinel Prime ten years ago."

   "A decade, huh?" Depth Charge smirked at the prisoner, a tall, green and black mech. "Hope you're still not expecting your Decepticon pals to free ya after all these years."

   Lockdown snorted. "Please. They aren't my pals. I was only with them for the credits."

   "Yeah, whatever." Depth Charge jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Take him away."

   Stungun nodded and took Lockdown into a prison block. All the way down the corridor, fists rattled the bars of their cell door, screaming loud enough to shatter glass. Lockdown was mildly amazed that Stungun didn't turn down his audio receptors. 

   Instead, the dark blue Autobot simply smirked and said, "Welcome to Colony Omicron. Hope you enjoy it, 'cause you'd be hard pressed to find any better."

   Lockdown scowled. They all look the same anyway.

*  *  *

   "So, what are you in for?"

   Lockdown lifted his gaze from the ground to stare at his cellmate. Colored in gray and blue, he wore a body-type similar to Lockdown's, but without the upgrades and modifications he had given himself.

   "Attempted assassination," Lockdown muttered. "You?"

   "Robbery," the other Decepticon spat. "If the folks at Protihex valued their stuff so much, then they shouldn't put 'em up for display."

   Lockdown smirked. "Why would they boot a petty robber all the way to a satellite colony?"

   A nasty scowl crossed the mech's face. "Who are you calling petty? At least I didn't try something stupid like assassination."

   "I was hired to do it."

   "You some kind of bounty hunter?"

   "One of the best. You can call me Lockdown."

   The Decepticon's eyes widened. "Wait a sec... you mean the one and only Lockdown? How the Pit did I not recognize you?"

   "I tend to spice up my appearance from time to time," Lockdown said. "Have we met?"

   "Briefly. You were chasing down some Rallybot and I offered to help. You declined by launching a sleep-net at me."

   "I vaguely recall that. What do they call you?"

   "Axer," the mech said, smirking. "Not that fitting anymore now that they took my axe."

   "You a wannabe bounty hunter?"

   "Yeah, kind of." Axer rubbed the back of his neck. "I was hoping to one day be your protege of sorts."

   Lockdown grunted. "Not much use in that now, is there?"

   "So, I hear you guys are in a rut, yes?"

   Lockdown and Axer turned at the sound of the gruff voice. In the cell across from theirs was a robot being- not Cybertronian, from what Lockdown could tell- with a horned, almost skull-like face, blue and gold armor covering his silver exterior, and a long, flowing red cape.

   "Who the heck are you?" Axer asked.

   "The name's Death's Head," the alien replied. "Heard of me, yes?"

   "Can't say I have," Lockdown muttered. "What's an alien like you doing in a Cybertronian prison?"

   Death's Head smirked. "Let's just say I violated some law, yes? Something about a Tyrest Accord. Dealing in illegal munitions is risky business, right?"

   "Are you a bounty hunter, too?" Axer asked.

   "Freelance Peacekeeping Agent," the alien robot sharply corrected. "Anyway, I think I've got an escape plan. Might need some help, yes?"

   "What do you need?" Lockdown asked.

   "To take me out to lunch."

*  *  *

   Colony Omicron's canteen was incredibly small, made to only fit twelve bots at once, six of those being Autobot guards. The other six were selected prisoners who stood at a counter to get their fuel, and had only five minutes to do so.

   As a burly Autobot set out the oil cans, Lockdown and Axer took theirs while Death's Head looked up at the server.

   "I prefer unleaded oil, yes?" the non-bounty hunter said. "Much appreciate unleaded."

   The Autobot snorted. "Too bad. What you see is all you're getting."

   "Oh well." Acting completely casual, Death's Head bumped the oil can over the counter, spilling its contents onto the floor. "Oops. Clumsy me, yes?"

   "Aw, come on!" one of the guards snapped, storming over to him. "My break's in six cycles!"

   "Then allow me to pass the time, eh?"

   The tip of Death's Head right index finger suddenly flipped up, revealing a lighter. Before any of the guards could react, the non-bounty hunter touched the spilled oil with it, setting the floor, as well as the whole canteen, aflame.

   As the Autobot scurried to put out the fire, Death's Head snatched a blaster cannon from one of them, aimed it at the wall, and fired, creating a huge hole. As the other prisoners rushed to it to escape, Death's Head turned to Lockdown and Axer, grinning.

   "Be seeing you again, yes?"

   With that, the alien robot charged out the hole and vanished into the darkness of space. Lockdown and Axer followed him and, once they were outside, the former pressed a control on his arm, sending out a signal to his starship, which dropped out of hyperspace before them.

   Axer blinked as they began to approach the dark red IG-2000 vessel. "Why didn't you do that in the first place?"

   "Autobot prisons have shields blocking out remote signals," Lockdown said, before glancing at Axer. "Said you wanted to be my protege, right?"

   The Decepticon nodded. "If it's all the same to you, yes."

   The bounty hunter smirked. "Then stick with me and I'll show you the ropes."

   With that, the newly-formed bounty hunting duo boarded the IG-2000. Lockdown had never been very fond of the ship- at least not enough to give it a name- but as he sat down at its controls, he felt more at home than he had at Omicron and Garrus-9.

   "What do you call this beauty?" Axer said as he regarded the ship's interior.

   It only took a brief moment for Lockdown to come up with a name. "How about Death's Head?"

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories III--Exodus

EDITED 8/4/2016 Changed Burnrate to Burn Out since Fun Pub stole my idea of making Diaclone Black Skids into a female Autobot. >:(

EXODUS

   Timeline: 995 Years Ago (5 Years after Volume III (and before IV))

-

   The meeting had not gone well; that much Ultra Magnus could tell as Zeta Prime stormed out of the room, a furious look on his face. As Ultra Magnus began to walk alongside the blue and gold Prime, he carefully said, "How did it go?"

   "They're leaving," was all Zeta said, his bitter tone practically telling Magnus to not press the matter further.

   For the past few months, several Autobots had begun to lose faith in the cause, being horrified by the effects of the war and being disappointed in Zeta Prime's failure to fix things. While Ultra Magnus certainly did not want these Autobots to leave, he could see how Zeta's actions could convince them to go through with their plans of desertion.

   "So that's the Masterforce Warriors gone," Magnus muttered. "Are you going to meet with Dai Atlas next?"

   "Should I even bother at this point?" Zeta Prime snapped, whirling to face him. "The results are going to be the same as with Zetca and Metalhawk, and the rest. Should I just let them all go?"

   Ultra Magnus did not know how to respond and Zeta did not give him a chance to, already striding down the corridor too fast for him to catch up.

*  *  *

   "You're leaving?"

   Fixer sighed as she nursed her glass of energon. She had been expecting this exact response and was prepared to answer it.

   "Yes, Burn Out, I'm leaving Cybertron... and the Autobots."

   The black and red fembot sitting across from her wore an expression that almost made her regret her decision. "But why? I never had you pinned down as a quitter."

   "I'm not quitting," Fixer said sternly. "It's just... I get a sick feeling whenever injured bots are dragged into the base. I didn't even know what some parts- like a motor relay- looked like until the Triggerbots were brought in from Stanix."

   Burn Out frowned. "Well, if you're that sure about leaving, I suppose I can't stop you. When are you leaving and where are you going?"

   "In two solar cycles, on board the Peaceful Resolution." Fixer then shrugged. "As for where to, who knows. Wherever Primus guides us, I suppose."

*  *  *

   "I implore you to reconsider, Dai Atlas."

   The old Autobot glowered at Zeta Prime as he sat across from him. "I had made up my mind the very day this war was declared. I only waited five years to see if you truly deserved the title of Prime."

   A nasty scowl crossed Zeta's golden face. "Are you saying that I am unworthy of it?"

   "If you wish to jump to that conclusion, then yes. You continue to use up Cybertron's resources in response to the Decepticons' attacks, instead of seeking peaceful negotiations or simply letting Cybertron fall to them while we seek haven elsewhere."

   Zeta's optics flared. "Because, Dai Atlas, unlike you, I am not a coward. I refuse to let Cybertron fall and I know that there is no peace to be found in negotiations."

   Dai Atlas glared at him. "Of course not. Your actions have already angered the Decepticons enough."

   Zeta Prime's hands gripped his end of the table. His voice tight with fury, he growled, "Get out of my sight, you coward."

   The former High Councilor's eyes met his and a silent exchange of derision passed between them before Dai Atlas finally got up to leave, his last words being, "Time rust you."

*  *  *

   "Why are you staying?"

   It was a simple enough question; one born from curiosity rather than with the accusatory tones he had heard from others. The fact that it was his most trusted confidant made him all the more sure of this.

   "Because, Beta Maxx, I have faith," Alpha Trion said to his Mini-Con companion. "Perhaps not in Zeta Prime himself, but in the Autobot cause in general. I have faith that, one day, whether it'll be tomorrow or a millennia from now, we'll get through this war, just as we have in the past."

   Standing on his floating hoverscooter, Beta Maxx raised a skeptic eyebrow. "Are you sure it's not because of something else?"

   Alpha Trion's face was expressionless. "Whatever makes you say that?"

   Beta Maxx shrugged. "I don't know, it's just... that seemed like a generic response. But that's just me. Micronus knows that we Mini-Cons will never understand you bigger bots."

   The old historian smiled as his companion flew back to his studies. The truth was, his ever-observant apprentice was right; he had another reason for staying on Cybertron. It was the same reason why he had stayed under Galactus Prime's tyranny and why he had stayed behind on Nova's expedition, all against his better judgment. 

   It was Vector Sigma. The moment he was brought online by the ancient super-computer, he had felt drawn to it, felt as if it were his duty to protect it. And thus he had vowed to do just that, no matter what happened.

   Only he knew of this secret vow. Not Beta Maxx, not any of the Primes, not even his best and closest friends. For if anyone knew, they would no doubt target him as a way to get to Vector Sigma. And so he said nothing, lest he risk the probability of an apocalypse.

*  *  *

   Zetca and the Masterforce Warriors, destined for Master.

   Dai Atlas and the Circle of Light, destined for Theophany.

   Metalhawk and his followers, destined for Archon.

    Ultra Magnus' face fell as he went further down the list. So many people vital to the Autobot cause had left; without them, they would be to closer to defeat than ever. If these deserters had thought an exodus such as this would actually improve the war effort, they were wrong.

   Instead, they had left nothing but a dark stain on Cybertronian history.

   A Dark Epoch.

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories II--Head Games

HEAD GAMES
--Cybertron, Cycle 8816--

   The sea of memories were not his own.

   He swam through them, yes, but he could tell that they did not belong to him. The main identifier for him was that he was seeing places he had never been to, or had only heard of: the Acid Wastes of Stanix, the Rust Spot near Peptex, the Shrine of Epistemus on Tetrahex's outskirts....

   After moving through the memories, he finally found the moment of time he was looking for: the second chord of Cycle 8816, in an abandoned warehouse between Praxus and Uraya. Two mechs were standing face to face: one was of the OC-72 body type common to the Triorian Guard, colored in gray and blue; the other was of a lankier build, with a darker shade of gray and with purple and green highlights.

   "Here you go, Banzai-Tron," the former said, handing the latter a datapad. "A schedule of the transports due to arrive on Athenia."

   "Excellent work, Dealer," the one called Banzai-Tron said. "If this is legit, you will have given the Decepticons a note-worthy victory." He stepped closer to the snitch. "However, if it is not, then you will be left to the Autobots' mercy... unless you'd rather have someone like Straxus do the honors."

   Dealer merely gulped, a terrified look on his face. Apparently satisfied with this, Banzai-Tron shimmered and vanished, having been a hologram all along. Once he was gone, Dealer turned around... and froze upon seeing the interloper of his memories.

   "What are you doing here?" he asked before everything faded away.

*  *  *

   "Good work, Tumbler!" he heard Trepan say as he pulled his needle-like fingers from Dealer's neck, retracting them back into his hand. "High Command will find this info very useful."

   Tumbler said nothing, instead staring somewhat disapprovingly at his hand. Although it had been in his interest to study mnemosurgery, there was still something off-putting about it. Going through one's memories, violating their privacy... many would find it wrong and immoral.

   And yet, nothing was really stopping him from quitting. True, he felt obligated to continue by the fact that Zeta Prime himself had recruited him. But it was not as if the Prime had a leash on him. Or did he?

   "Mirage, take Dealer to the prison transport due for Elba," Trepan said, distracting Tumbler from his musings. "I'm sure the folks at Garrus-9 will love him."

   After seeing the Autobot traitor off, Trepan turned to Tumbler and smiled. "You're doing good, my apprentice. Remember, all of this is for the benefit of the Autobot cause."

   Tumbler nodded, deciding not to argue the point. "Does, er, doing this- you know, injecting and viewing others' memories- have any side effects?"

   Trepan rubbed his chin. "Mnemosurgeons have been known to experience flashbacks and relive inherited memories from the minds they've worked on." He then smiled. "But I doubt they're any more harmful than that. You've been doing great so far, Tumbler. I dare say you may become one of the best."

*  *  *

   "Okay, Jolt... how many fingers am I holding up?"

   The blue mech sitting in front of him blinked. "Seriously? We're in the middle of a game of Fullstais and you're now asking stupid questions like that?"

   Tumbler quietly sighed in relief. Jolt clearly did not remember him injecting his needle fingers into his neck. Now it was time for the ultimate test....

   "We were talking about the Decepticons, remember?" he said.

   Jolt scratched his chin. "Oh yeah, that's right. Where were we?"

   "You were talking about... possibly joining them," Tumbler said, choosing his words carefully.

   Jolt scoffed. "Me? With those losers? Maybe when the Pit freezes over!" He narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You feeling all right, Tumbler?"

   Tumbler smiled behind his mouthplate. "Never better."

*  *  *

   "Well, well, if it isn't Chromedome, the Miracle Worker."

   Tumbler turned away from his work to see a black and maroon mech standing in the doorway to his office. "Oh, hey, Swiper. Wait, who's Chromedome?"

   Swiper grinned. "You, of course! They're giving out nicknames to us mnemosurgeons, and even some of the other staff. You're Chromedome, that kooky scientist is Brainstorm... Trepan's already got a head based name...."

   "And who are you?"

   Swiper's smile faded and became a scowl. "Mindwipe. No doubt because I accidentally erased Sketch's memories."

   "I wouldn't be too hard on yourself about that," Tumbler said. "Our line of work is a tough one, and accidents are bound to happen. Besides, I like the sound of 'Mindwipe.'"

   Swiper smirked. "Still not as good as Chromedome."

-Four years later-

   It had happened all so fast.

   He had been standing there with Trepan, preparing to lobotomize Soundwave, when he heard the thunder of footsteps, accompanied by blaster fire and the cry of, "Where is he?" Not long after, the door to their lab flew off its connectors and a large mech stormed through, his optics set on Trepan.

   Tumbler moved to save his mentor but was quickly shot down. Helpless to do anything, he merely watched as Overlord and his Seeker companions freed Soundwave from his restraints and stormed out of the New Institute with Trepan in tow.

   As Pharma and the medics rushed to his aid, a single thought ran through Tumbler's head: How did they know? How could the Decepticons have found the Institute? The only ones who knew the location were his fellow staff members and Zeta Prime. Could one of them have divulged information? But they had all been completely loyal to the Autobots, except for-

   Trepan. He had set them all up for this raid. He knew Soundwave would be in captivity and so informed the Decepticons of his location. Tumbler was glad then that the 'Cons had taken Trepan; it would save him the trouble of scrapping the pile of slag....

*  *  *

   Mindwipe grinned with satisfaction as he pulled his needle fingers out of Chromedome's neck. The sea of memories had not been his own, but he had nonetheless been able to modify them to cover his tracks. His work done, he returned to the shadows of the medbay, leaving behind no one but himself to remember exactly what had happened....

 

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories I--Ill Logic

These chapters are more like short stories showcasing a certain (number of) character(s).
EDITED 8/24/2015 Retitled to "War Stories"

TRANSFORMERS REGENERATED
Interlude: War Stories

ILL LOGIC

   Timeline: Cycle 8815 (999 Years Ago; 1 year after Volume III)

-

   Anyone on New Kaon could tell that the Second Great War was well underway. Seeker squadrons blasted off from launch pads outside the base while Combaticon troops matched through its corridors. Such sounds had become daily routine for those who remained huddled in the capitol fortress.

   Shockwave was one such person. Having been made chief scientist by Megatron, the former Autobot High Councilor spent endless hours devising experiments for the so-called Emperor of Destruction. In one corner laid blueprints for the Trypticon beast project, in the other a discarded model of a prototype War World.

   However, there was one item that stood out from the rest: a tall, cylindrical chamber placed on the far right. Many had questioned its purposed, but Shockwave had always avoided answering them, mainly because their feeble minds would not be able to comprehend the logic behind it.

   Some days, however, Shockwave wondered if there truly was any logic to it at all.

*  *  *

   "Can you believe how hard it is to acquire a Hyperflux Cannon from the market?" Fistfight said as he rolled into Shockwave's lab. "Even Swindle didn't have one up for sale, and yet he's got a blasted anti-gravity cannon. Can you believe it?"

   Shockwave affixed his cold gaze on the stout, boxy droid. "Did you nonetheless manage to procure a Hyperflux Cannon?"

   "Yeah, yeah, hang on." Fistfight rolled out of the room and then returned dragging a large, green-colored cannon the length and size of an arm.

   Shockwave frowned. "It was only available in green?"

   "What, you wanted black instead?" Fistfight said flippantly. "Besides, can't you just repaint it? You used to change your color scheme everyday back on Cybertron."

   Shockwave sighed as he surveyed his red, blue, and white armor plating, a color scheme that stood apart from the dark-colored Decepticons he was associated with. "Used to, Fistfight. I'm not exactly on Cybertron anymore, where you could visit such places to get repainted."

   Though he lacked an emotive face, Fistfight managed to frown through his optics. "Er, right. Sorry if I hit a nerve-"

   "It matters not," Shockwave said hastily. He then took the Hyperflux Cannon from his partner's clamp-like hands. "Let us return to work."

*  *  *

   It had taken days, even weeks of labor, but it was finally finished. At Shockwave's signal, Fistfight pulled the lever and energy pulsed from the cylindrical chamber into the figure inside it. When a scream suddenly emitted from it, Fistfight quickly brought the lever back up and the chamber opened, allowing the figure to stumble out.

   It had the bulky build of a Combaticon, wearing a color scheme of purple and gray, though the green Hyperflux Cannon serving as its left arm contrasted it in a negative way. Its head lacked the facial structure of an average Cybertronian, instead containing only a single emerald optic on its narrow, otherwise featureless "face."

   It stared at Shockwave with an emotionless gaze and when it spoke, its voice was equally cold and unemotive. "Where... am I?"

   "You are in my lab," Shockwave said calmly. "You are home."

   The green optic rotated and blinked slightly. "Who... are you?"

   "I am Shockwave. I am your creator."

   Its head turned, taking in its surroundings, before returning its gaze to Shockwave. "What am I?"

   "You are... an experiment," Shockwave said carefully, hoping this revelation did not touch a nerve circuit. "An experiment to manufacture powerful Cybertronians and bolster the Decepticon army."

   "Cybertronians? Decepticons?"

   Shockwave sighed. "I'll upload all you need to know into your databanks soon. But first, can you tell me your name?"

   It was silent and stock-still for a long moment until it finally spoke. "I... I am Shockblast."

   Shockwave couldn't help but smile. Success.

*  *  *

   How quickly can a success turn into a failure?

   Too quickly for Shockwave's liking.

   He ran down the corridors of the fortress, following the sound of blaring alarms... and agonized screams. He finally reached a hangar from which Decepticon warships took off and found just what he had feared.

   Deactivated corpses littered the floor; energon and oil were spilt everywhere; pierces of ships and machinery were scattered; and standing in the center of it all was Shockblast, his right hand dripping with energon.

   Shockwave stared at his creation in utter shock. "Shockblast... what have you done?"

   "I've killed them," was the nonchalant response.

   "But... but why?"

   "I don't know. I just felt like it."

   Shockwave clutched his head. What had gone wrong? He had created Shockblast to think like him, to think logically and calculative... where had it all gone to the Pit?

   "Look," he said carefully. "Just... stop. Don't do anything unless I tell you to. Understand?"

   Shockblast did not respond, his single eye unmoving.

   "Megatron is not going to like this," Shockwave murmured to himself. "If I don't come up with an alibi soon, he'll-"

   "Oh, it's much too late for that."

   Before his very eyes, a blast of energy hit Shockblast square in the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. Shockwave whirled around to see Megatron standing before him, his fusion cannon now trained on him as well.

   "Much too late."

*  *  *

   A single optic whirled to life, emitting a scarlet glow. Sitting up, Shockwave took in his surroundings, finding himself in the medbay. Looking down at himself, he found that his color scheme had been changed to purple and gray... and his left hand was replaced by a cannon barrel.

   No...

   "Enjoying your punishment so far?" Megatron said as he stepped into view. "You must admit, it's an improvement over what you had conceived."

   "What is the meaning of this?" Shockwave asked coldly.

   "Thanks to your little experiment, we have lost a dozen Combaticons and a warship. Normally I would have you executed, but your scientific mind is far too valuable to simply waste."

   "So you sought to humiliate me by place me in the body of my greatest failure...."

   Megatron smirked. "With a few modifications to make it more feasible, yes. Let this be a lesson, Shockwave. You would do well not to upset me again."

   With that, the Decepticon leader turned and strode out of the room. Not long after, Fistfight came rolling in, screeching to a halt upon seeing Shockwave's new appearance.

   "Ah. Hi, boss," he said weakly. "I, er... yeah."

   "Spare me your senseless prattle," Shockwave said bitterly as he got off the recharge slab. "Let us return to the lab."

   "Right," Fistfight said, nervously following his master. "The ever-wonderful lab...."