CHAPTER ONE
--Cybertron, 1,500 Years Ago--
"We grieve for the murdered word. If you want to get a measure of an author, don't look at what they've left on the page... look at what they've taken away."
Uncrossing his legs, the white and blue mech looked over to the bot laying on the berth near his chair, staring up aimlessly at the ceiling.
"Are you sure you wish to go through with this procedure, Red Alert? Mnemosurgery is a dangerous practice-- it has yet to be perfected ever since it was first developed five years ago. It could do more than simply erase what you want gone from your mind."
"Please, Froid," the white and red mech said. "I need this. I need them off my back and getting rid of what they want to know is the only way."
"You have yet to tell me who 'they' even are," the psychiatrist said.
"I can't tell you. They have optics everywhere. I've said too much already."
A sigh escaped Froid's vocal processor as he got up from his chair. "So be it then. I shall set up an appointment for next solar--"
He suddenly stopped as his optics moved towards the window. He could have sworn he had seen something dash past it.
Red Alert sat up slightly. "Sir?"
Froid shook his head. "It was nothing. A trick on the optic, I suppose."
* * *
"What were you doing?"
"Nothing. Just looking for Brainstorm."
Rewind gave his partner a dubious look. "You were standing there for a while. If you didn't see Brainstorm, then why were you--?"
"I just find this all very surreal, Rewind," Chromedome said. "Here we are in the past-- fifteen hundred years in the past, to be exact. The war hasn't started yet; everyone we saw die are still alive and some of the 'bots we know-- like Riptide-- haven't even been built yet."
"Yeah? Well, just think how Tailgate feels; at this very moment, he's supposed to be underground somewhere underneath the Mitteous Plateau, waiting to be found. Yet we can't rescue him, or that'll screw up the time stream or whatever."
Chromedome shook his head. "Like I said, surreal. Maybe Rodimus should have just brought 'bots that didn't have a chance of meeting our past selves, besides Cyclonus and Tailgate. And WALL-E and EVE, of course."
"Well, he needed Rung's spark-type to help operate the briefcase, my database on Cybertronian history, Skids knowledge on time-travel, and your mnemosurgic skills." Rewind let out a disgruntled sigh after stating that last bit. "Despite my reservations about that."
"I know, I know. I tired to protest--"
"Not enough, clearly."
Before Chromedome could retort, his communicator chimed and he answered it. Rodimus' voice spoke through.
"Chromedome! Any sign of Brainstorm?"
"Not yet. Like I was just telling Rewind, it's hard to find someone while trying to avoid others-- namely ourselves."
"Well, as a mnemosurgeon, you don't have much to worry about in that regard."
Chromedome spared a quick glance at Rewind as he said, "Um, right. No worries at all."
* * *
Scarlet optics stared in complete wonder at the golden city laid out before him, gleaming in the sunlight. Spiraled towers and narrow skyscrapers rose to great heights and stretched across the horizon.
"Progress report, Cyclonus... Cyclonus?"
Snapping from his reverie, the ancient warrior answered his comlink. "No sign of Brainstorm yet."
"All right. Rodimus out."
The comlink went silent and Cyclonus resumed his surveillance of the city, taking in every detail. Standing next to him was Tailgate, who repeatedly glanced at Cyclonus as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.
"So, uh, Cybertron. It's... it's something, isn't it?"
"I haven't seen Cybertron in such a beautiful shape in eons. In fact, I daresay it's... more beautiful than I remember it."
"Yeah, it... it sure is. I guess a lot can change over the course of six thousand years. Speaking of which, I've always wondered: how come so many thousands of years feel like, like nothing to us while for other races, they go through, like, a thousand generations of people. I mean, I know for me it was because I was unconscious for all that time, but Rewind tells me it's a general feeling. He said it could be because of our longevity or maybe information creep, but I don't know anything about that. I tried asking Perceptor once, but he started using words that I've never heard of before and--"
"Tailgate."
"Yes, Cyclonus?"
"Shut up, Tailgate."
The smaller mech bowed his head. "Okay."
* * *
"Ah, Rodion!" Whirl planted his claws on his hips as he surveyed the city from atop an airship. "This place brings back memories."
"You used to live here?" Skids asked.
"I used to work here. I served in the Rodion security force around this time."
Skids looked incredulous. "You? A security officer? You must be joking."
"Nope. Granted, I was fired when I got caught trading with some less-than-reputable weapons dealers."
"Now that I can buy." Skids then looked down at WALL-E and EVE, the two Earth robots that had recently joined the Lost Light (at least until their timeline was fixed). The latter was using her scanning features to find Brainstorm in the skies.
"Any luck?" Skids asked her.
"Not yet," EVE said. "The skies are awfully clear. Did not many 'bots have aerial modes in these days?'
"Nah, I'm sure it's a result of the Clampdown. While it was only officially initiated after the Functionist Act was passed, the High Council was already putting it into place."
"Skids, this is Rodimus," a voice crackled from his communicator. "Any Brainstorm sighting or have you just been sight-seeing?"
"No sighting yet, cap," Skids replied. "EVE's using her scanner thing, but--"
"Wait!" EVE suddenly shot forward, pointing her fin arm at a turquoise figure emerging from a building down below, briefcase in hand. "There he is!"
Releasing an oil-curdling battle cry, Whirl transformed to helicopter mode and shot towards the rogue Autobot. Brainstorm looked up in alarm at the mad Wrecker charging at him before quickly pushing his way through the crowd. As Whirl began to unload his artillery, Brainstorm morphed to jet mode and took for the skies. Just as Whirl began to alter course, the turquoise jet vanished into thin air.
Skids grimaced at the whole scene before returning to his communicator. "Bad news, Rodimus: he's jumped to another time."
Rodimus groaned. "Well, that's just Prime. I'll have Nautica and Perceptor try to figure out his next destination. In the meantime, let's regroup. Where did you find him at again?"
"Maccadam's New Oil House." Skids narrowed his optics. "And I think I can see his reason for being there."
"And that would be?"
"There's been a murder."
WHEN TIME RUNS OUT
Part III: A Matter of Time
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