CHAPTER FIVE
--The Lost Light--
"All right, here's the plan, simple as it is," Ultra Magnus said to the team of Autobots he had gathered by the airlock. "We shall go out to stand on the ship's hull, equipped with magna-clamps, and fend off the Terrorcons as they attack us. In the meantime, the bridge crew will advance the ship forward as we mow them down until we reach Cybertron. Then we await orders on our next course of action. Pretty straightforward, yes?"
"Yeah, it's straightforward, all right," Skids said. "But will it work?"
"We can only hope," Magnus murmured. "Now lock and load, and get your magna-clamps equipped. The Terrorcons will be here shortly."
As the so-called "Crusadercon Defenders" (as dubbed by Swerve) started to arm themselves, Getaway sidled up to Skids and nudged him in the shoulder.
"Prowl spoke with me while we were on Combatron."
"I'm sure that was a harrowing experience," Skids grunted. "What did he tell you?"
"He said that if either of us came across Rollbar again... a good shot to the head will do the trick."
Skids blinked. "Okay...? My original mission was to kill him anyway."
"Yes, but it has to be a head-shot. Otherwise... it just won't work."
Skids shrugged. "All right. But how come Prowl didn't tell me this himself?"
"Search me, buddy. You know how he is."
"Don't I know it...."
* * *
"Can you move at all?"
Tailgate groaned as his right arm barely shifted. "If you can... call it movement."
First Aid sighed as he read the scanners on Tailgate's life support systems. "The cybercrosis is spreading faster than expected. At this rate... I'm not sure you'll be able to make it to the end of tomorrow."
Tailgate simply sighed softly at this news. Sitting at his bedside, Glyph squeezed his left hand out of deep concern. At that moment, Ambulon walked in with a grimace on his faceplate.
"Elita says to get the medibay ready. The Terrorcons are making their way towards us and we'll probably be getting 'bots in here real quick."
First Aid nodded grimly. "I'm on it."
As the two medics set to work, Tailgate craned his head to look at Glyph. "Glyph... in case neither of us make it through today-- I know I won't-- I just want to... to say that I l--"
Suddenly, the Lost Light shuddered heavily. Ambulon yelped as he tumbled to the floor while First Aid grabbed on tightly onto a recharge slab. Once the shaking had stopped, it was followed by energon-curdling screams.
"First hour of Armageddon," First Aid murmured.
--Space--
"Ger-ronny-doo-ron-ron-ronny-mo!"
Springer ducked as the Junkion leader Wreck-Gar flew straight over his head, waving his four-bladed axe like a madman as he and his fellow Junkions headed straight for the advancing Terrorcons.
"That's a lunatic if I ever saw one," he muttered to himself. "Even Whirl has better common sense than that."
He looked over his shoulder to see four of the remaining Wreckers he had under his commander: Roadbuster, Whirl, Sandstorm, and Scattorshot. Broadside was not far behind, detaching from the Xantium in his massive alt mode, while Bulkhead and Seaspray were currently with Optimus Prime's crew.
For so long had he worked with these Autobots, and for so long had he seen so many teammates die. Scoop, Leadfoot, the Jumpstarters, Fastfix... the list of casualties stretched well into the triple digits. And for all he knew, they could very well be the last Wreckers.
But he saw the determination in their optics and knew that they were willing to fight to the death. Raising his blade towards the heavens, he sent a hearty cry across all of their comm channels.
"Wreck and rule!"
The others echoed him with equal enthusiasm and all four of them were soon charging into battle, not unlike the other crazy lunatic ahead of them.
--The Nemesis--
Megatron stood alone on his flagship's bridge, watching the chaos unfold.
Armies of Autobot, Decepticon, and neutral alike were pouring out of their respective ships to confront the Terrorcons and Heralds of Unicron. Although he had been the first proponent of such an alliance, he was still bracing himself for the infighting that was, in his mind, inevitable.
His communicator buzzed and he answered to the voice of his once and former arch-enemy. "Megatron?"
"Yes, Prime?"
"There seems to be a clear-shot towards Unicron."
"What are you getting at?"
"I'm suggesting that we head straight for him."
"Are you insane?!" Megatron snapped. "This is Unicron we're dealing with! He'll obliterate us on sight!"
"Not if he can't see us," Optimus calmly replied. "We'll use a stealth ship."
Megatron snorted. "If he is as all-powerful as the legends claim he is, I doubt that'll be of any use. He'll see right through the deception."
"Legends tend to have some fallacy to them. Look, Megatron, just... trust me on this. I know what I'm doing."
"What did you do, consult in the wisdom of the Matrix?"
There was a short pause. "Something like that."
Megatron opened his mouth with a sharp, ready retort in mind but decided against it. Now was not the time for it. "I shall be joining you shortly," he said instead.
After ending the connection, Megatron took one last glance out the viewport before walking off the bridge.
--Space--
"I just want it to go on record: I. Hate. Zombies."
"Join the club," Atomizer replied to Skids as he fired an explosive arrow at an attacking Terrorcon, thought its destruction did little to improve their chances.
As the undead creatures continued to attack the Lost Light, Skids scanned the crowd and spotted a black and orange jet among the zombies, heading straight towards him. Atomizer spotted it as well and aimed his crossbow at it, only to be shot down. The alien fighter then morphed into a sleek robot form and strutted towards Skids.
"Well, well. Fancy seeing you again, Skids."
Skids glared at him. "Do I know you?"
"Ha! Of course you do." Suddenly, the Herald began to change shape in a different manner entirely. Soon, no longer was he sleek, black, and orange; now he bore a more powerful build, armed to the teeth with guns, and had a white and purple color scheme. "How could you forget someone like me?"
Skids' optics widened in fury as he immediately aimed his gun at Rollbar. He pulled off a shot but his ex-comrade dodged it before unloading his full artillery. Deactivating his magna-clamps, Skids avoided the enemy fire before lunging towards Rollbar and colliding into him, sending them both tumbling through space.
In spite of the fact that Skids was pummeling him, Rollbar let out a harsh laugh. "Ah, revenge feels good, doesn't it? I knew you had a grudge against me, especially after our little spat on Luna 2, but wow-- you really do hate me."
"Shut up," Skids grunted as he reached for his gun. "You've had this coming for a long time."
Rollbar did not react to this statement at first until he realized that Skids was aiming for his head. Suddenly alarmed, he began to wrestle with the Autobot agent for control of the gun.
"No! You can't do that--!"
"Tough, because I can." Finally gaining control of the gun, he pressed the weapon against Rollbar's forehead and pulled the trigger.
* * *
In space, no one could hear you scream.
Across the furthest reaches of the galaxy, away from all of the chaos, Makeshift was in pain. It was not just him, he quickly realized; all of his fellow Decepticon Shifters-- or rather those that had been planted by the Heralds of Unicron early on in the first stage of their plan-- were experiencing the same agony he was, as well as receiving the same message that pain conveyed.
Sideways-- their core unit-- had been eliminated.
In space, no one could hear you die.
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