Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light IV, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

--The Peaceful Tyranny--

    Among both factions, the Decepticon Justice Division were the feared enforcers of Decepticon law. While some did not believe their hype (and indeed quite a bit of it was hyperbole spread by those who had seen them in action), it still could not be denied that they were five of the most effective soldiers the Decepticon Empire had to offer.

    And yet even they required frequent maintenance in order to keep that title. So when it came to finding the right 'Con for the job, Tarn went with the one he knew they'd all hate.

    "What is this? Is that... cranial fluid? Have you been chewing brain modules again?"

    Helex could only make unintelligible sounds as the small teal femme held his mouth open, inspecting his oral mechanics. Nickel scoffed loudly at the pieces of brain module she found inside.

    "Honestly, how many times must I tell you? Don't-- chew-- on-- brains! It's unhealthy for you! And to think that's the second time in as many months I had to state a sentence like that."

    Closing a disgruntled Helex's mouth, Nickel activated the rocket boosters on her back and flew over to Tesarus, landing in the brutish mech's chest cavity.

    "And when was the last time you sharpened your blades, hm? These things look duller than one of Shockwave's lectures."

    Tesarus simply grunted.

    With a tsk, Nickel jumped back down and rolled over to Kaon and Vos to inspect them. As all of this was happening, Tarn stood at the ship's controls, preparing for take off.

    Another name on the List had been eliminated, and yet Tarn could not help but find himself feeling... empty. While in the past he had always felt immense satisfaction from delivering justice, it had now become nothing more but another thing to do to him.

    This wasn't a recent development, of course. For the past six months, ever since his last encounter with Megatron, his enjoyment of his duty had been on decline. From their genesis, the D.J.D. had been fanatically loyal to Megatron and the Decepticon cause equally, for the former represented the latter in their eyes.

    Thus, when Megatron-- his idol, his source of worship-- had said to his face that he was renouncing the old ways, Tarn's world came crashing down. The events that proceeded afterwards-- Megatron's death and Starscream's ascension-- only made things worse.

    As of now, the List was their only master; they would continue to hunt down those who had betrayed the cause, disregarding whatever changes had been made since then. For as far as Tarn was concerned, Decepticon law was obstinate and anyone who thought otherwise could consider themselves a traitor. 

    As the Peaceful Tyranny entered the infinite starfield of space, Tarn turned back to the others, who were still being checked on by Nickel.

    "And what do you call this?" The diminutive medic poked one of the induction coils on Kaon's back, which sizzled at her touch. "You've been over-frying again, haven't you?"

    Kaon glared at Nickel with his empty black eyes but said nothing. Upon noticing Tarn, the crimson Decepticon pushed the medic aside and stood to attention.

    "I'm still searching for Deathsaurus' energy signature, sir. In the meantime, I've located the next name on the List. She's--"

    "Kaon... please." Tarn brushed past him as he headed for his quarters. "Humor me for once and save the surprise. Signal me when we get there, or if there's an urgent matter to attend to."

    Tarn felt the others' optics following him as he reached his chambers. Closing the door behind him, he stepped inside and looked up. 

    Even after six months, even after all that had happened, it was still there: his shrine to Megatron. The statue had since become neglected, covered in rust stains, and his copy of Megatron's manifesto had become covered in dust.

    The reason he had kept it all was because of the false hope that Megatron-- the Megatron he knew-- would return someday and pick up the Decepticon Empire from its ashes. But now... now it simply mocked him.

    Tarn picked up the datapad which contained his former idol's writing-- the scripture he had obeyed for years. He stared into his reflected visage for a long moment... before dropping the datapad to the floor and grinding it to dust with his foot. He then aimed his fusion cannon at the statue and unleashed all of his wrath.

--Hedonia--

    Eighteen... nineteen... twenty....

    Rewind winced inwardly as he reached the last coin. Glancing up at the tentacled being at the counter, he said, "Twenty-two Shanix, right?"

    The alien blinked its dozen eyes as it continued to regard Rewind skeptically.

    "Don't suppose I can get it for less? I mean, I had no idea there had been a price hike on these things, so I only saved up twenty Shanix for it...."

    The store owner slithered its tentacles, making bizarre sounds with them. Although he did not know the language, Rewind understood the message clear enough.

    "Right, okay. I guess... I guess I'll come back later."

    Leaving the item he had been planning to purchase, Rewind left the shop and stepped outside, where he found Chromedome waiting.

    "Empty-handed?" the mnemosurgeon asked.

    "Can you believe he charges double for a single data disc?" Rewind replied. "Seriously, most sellers only charge, like, fifteen Shanix at most, and even then just for the super-rare ones."

    "What were on the data discs?"

    "Non-Cybertronian films. A Kiss in the Folassian Forest, The Sounds of Eurythma, The Shi-Lai Reckoning, Aron's Travels... the famous stuff, mostly." 

    "Why the sudden interest in them?"

    "Just expanding my horizons. My head is already filled to the brim with Cybertronian history. Time for something new."

    "Right." Checking his chronometer, Chromedome then said, "We'd better get back to the ship. Brainstorm's trial is in an hour."

    "Any second thoughts yet on serving as his defense?"

    "I haven't got much of a choice. Other then Nautica, I'm the only friend he's got. Someone has to be there for him."

    The two walked on in silence, enjoying the peaceful night. Suddenly, Rewind stopped and he raised a hand to his visor, looking up ahead.

    "Say... what's that over there?"

    Chromedome followed the archivist's gaze towards an oblong object that had been seeming thrown carelessly into an alleyway. As they approached it, a faded Autobot symbol became distinguishable on its metal exterior.

    "Is that... what I think it is?" Chromedome asked.

    "I know one when I see one," Rewind said quietly. "It's a coffin."

    He tilted his head up to look at Chromedome. "You don't think...?"

    "It's a possibility," his partner said. "But to be on the safe side, we should wait until we're back on board to open it. Have Ratchet and the docs scan it for viruses and the like."

    "Right, right. You stay here; I'll go get Skids and the others."

    As the archivist ran off, Chromedome looked down at the coffin and traced a finger on its hull. That was when he noticed a piece of scripture carved into the exterior. Although he was not particularly well-versed in Old Cybertronian, he still knew enough to read what it said.

    He hungers.

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light IV, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

--The Lost Light, docked at Hedonia--

    Rodimus let out an exasperated sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. In his hand was a glass of engex (his fifth of the day) and with him at the meeting table were Ultra Magnus, Emirate Xaaron, Animus, and Trailbreaker-- the latter three making up the Ethics Committee that used to run Kimia Facility.

    "Okay, let's recap what's just happened, 'cos I know not everyone knows the facts. So, one day, Brainstorm walks into Swerve's bar, spikes the drinks to make everyone pass out, and then opens his briefcase. Turns out his briefcase is part of a time machine and he goes back in time to kill Megatron. More on that later.

    "Meanwhile, a tiny robot called WALL-E appears on our ship, so we go into the future, only to find that the future's been changed and the Functionists now rule Cybertron. From information gathered in this future, we at first theorize that Brainstorm's gone back in time to kill Sentinel Prime and make a time machine of our own to chase after him through the time stream.

    "Along the way, however, we discover that it's actually Megatron-- or Optronix, I should say-- that Brainstorm's after, and we finally come to a stand still at the very place of our favorite despot's construction. Despite our best efforts, Brainstorm succeeds in extinguishing Optronix's spark and... nothing happens.

    "'Cos guess what? During one of our time trips, WALL-E and his sparkmate stumbled across a newborn spark and had it with them the entire time. So by placing that spark in the sparkless body of Optronix, that basically made them Megatron's progenitors. I'll let that sink in for a moment."

    The lack of a response was enough for Rodimus and he continued on.

    "So with that part of his plan foiled, Brainstorm actually does go further back to take out Sentinel Prime and we find out there that Stormy is actually a Headmaster and he sends his little minion to blow up Sentinel. That's when WALL-E's sparkmate flew in and took him out and everything played out as it was supposed to: no Functionists, Megatron rises to power, etcetera, etcetera. We then find Brainstorm's original head in his lab before throwing him into the brig, and that's where we're at."

    "Well," Emirate Xaaron said after a prolonged silence. "That's certainly a lot to take in, and it makes for an interesting case to handle. Has Brainstorm said anything about his motives for doing all of this?"

    "He's hardly spoken at all," Ultra Magnus said. "The last time I tried to talk to him, he said he was only willing to talk to Chromedome or Nautica."

    "Why those two?" Animus asked.

    "Because they're the only ones he considers his friends."

    "In that case," Xaaron said, "we should send one of them in to get his side of the story and perhaps serve as his defense."

    "I'll call Nautica first," Ultra Magnus said. "From what I've seen, she's worked closely with Brainstorm and might understand him better than most."

    "Alrighty then," Rodimus said. "So with that settled, there's another matter I would like to address: Boltax."

    Xaaron raised an optic ridge. "The High Circuitmaster?"

    "We encountered him in the altered timeline, but has anyone actually met him in reality? I always thought he was a myth."

    "No, he was very much real. He served as one of Sentinel Prime's advisers during the First War and early on into the Golden Age. However, Sentinel ceased communication with him and no one has seen Boltax since."

     "Huh," Rodimus said. "Well, that's something. Did anyone else besides Sentinel know him?"

    "Boltax was a rather secluded being," Xaaron said. "Many would come to him in the quest for knowledge, but he would only grant it to those he saw worthy of it. Dai Atlas was one such Cybertronian, as well as Yoketron and Alpha Trion... oh, and Thunderclash, of course."

    Rodimus' expression suddenly became sour. "Thunderclash?"

    "Not that it should come as much of a surprise, considering he held the Matrix for both Sentinel and Optimus Prime, as well as rediscover Caminus--"

    "Right, okay, meeting dismissed." Rodimus got up from his seat and strode for the door. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my quarters. Let me know when the trial starts."

    The door quickly hissed shut behind him, leaving a silent room in his wake.

    Revving quietly, Xaaron said, "Did I... touch a nerve circuit there?"

    Ultra Magnus sighed. "You have no idea."

*  *  *

    "Hey."

    Brainstorm lifted his gaze from the floor of his cell. Standing outside was Nautica, who pressed a control panel which retracted the energy bars. She then stepped into the cell and sat down next to him.

    "I came to talk with you," she said.

    "Have you?" Brainstorm bitterly replied. "I bet I know what's coming."

    "Why did you do it?" she asked. "Why did you put the entire universe at risk by trying to alter time?"

    "I was trying to save the universe. I was trying to fix all of the damage our war had done to other worlds, trying to prevent the fates they didn't deserve."

    "And what motivated you to do that?"

    Brainstorm paused before speaking. "Ten years into the war, I was assigned to Nebulos. During my stay there, I became acquainted with a Nebulan called Arcana, who shared my love for exotic inventions. One of our first experiments together was reinventing the Headmaster process.

    "Four years later, K'th Kinsere fell to the Decepticons...." Brainstorm trailed off for a moment before looking at Nautica. "Tell me, have you ever had a Conjunx Endura? Someone you cared for more than anything?"

    Nautica shook her head. "No. Why?"

    "I lost someone I cared for at K'th Kinsere. His name was Quark. Of course, he never returned my feelings-- probably wasn't even aware of them. But when I heard of his death, I was spurred to something about it and Arcana gave me the idea of time travel.

    "It was a long process, of course, lasting the entire war. But with each year that passed, each tragedy that occurred, I was only given more incentive to finish the project. When the war ended, I was actually hesitant to go through with it. But Arcana ultimately pushed me to do so."

    Brainstorm fell silent after saying his piece. Nautica stared at him, her blue optics searching his face.

    "So you started this all because you lost someone?"

    "Well, yeah--"

    "You put your own race at risk, all because you lost someone."

    "I know it may seem that way--"

    "Do you not see how selfish that was?!" she snapped at him. "We've all lost someone we cared about during the war! Windblade lost Yoketron, Blaster lost Scrounge, Livewire lost Strongarm, even Optimus Prime lost his brother! But did any of them lose a gasket and go out for revenge, even if it meant others had to suffer?"

    "No, but-- I was trying to fix things--"

    "You wouldn't have fixed anything!" Without thinking, Nautica struck Brainstorm across the face with her hand, which dislodged his mouthplate and sent it clattering to the floor. Realizing what she had just done, Nautica opened her mouth to apologize... until she glanced at the mouthplate on the floor.

    And saw what was painted on the interior.

    She looked back at Brainstorm and their optics met. Before the latter could even speak, Nautica got up in a huff and stormed out of the cell, letting the energy bars reappear behind her. Left alone again, Brainstorm picked up his faceplate and stared solemnly at the Decepticon emblem painted within....

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light IV, Prologue

This story arc (or the first part, mainly) takes inspiration from MTMTE #39-40
EDITED 11/15/2015 Changed the story arc name; didn't think the original fit it

PROLOGUE

    When it came down to it, he was not much of a religious person.

    Knowing him, that may have come as a surprise to some. Considering how often he played the Empyrean Suite, which had been composed by Eucryphia in celebration of Prima and his Citadel of Light, one would have taken him for a believer. But that was far from the actual truth.

    In reality, he looked down upon those with such beliefs with vile disdain. In his mind, there was only one being who deserved worship; only one Cybertronian who held power over others. Any Decepticon who said otherwise was instantly put on the List.

    The List. Such a simple name for something that meant so much. His duty revolved around the List-- his life revolved around it. Without it, the Decepticons would most likely not have a justice system.

    To tell the truth-- and he would never admit this to anyone-- there really was no rhyme or reason to who was put on the List. While there were certainly some high-priority targets, the rest were mainly just "filler"-- either an excuse to weed out any potential dissenters (regardless how small that potential was) or simply a means to keep themselves occupied.

    Some would tell him it was counterproductive. He would tell them that it was following protocol. And if they were wise, that would be the end of the conversation.

    On some days, however, he wondered if there was a point in such arguments. After so many years of conflict and violence, he wondered if there was any purpose to it anymore. What had it accomplished for them after all this time?

    In spite of all these pressing doubts, he never let it show. Not to his comrades, and certainly not to his victims. Today, however, he came close to letting those doubts get to him.

    There they all were, standing around their most recent victim: Zardak, one of the five warlords that commanded the Decepticons following the First Great War, and the first one they had succeeded in tracking down and executing after they had failed to take out Trannis. The battered leader of the Maladroids sat on his knees before the five members of the Decepticon Justice Division, energon leaking from his optics.

    "Are you enjoying the music?" Tarn had asked him as the Empyrean Suite played on. Zardak made no response; it was, after all, difficult to speak when one had their brain module stuffed into their mouth.

    "Ah, Helex, would you mind putting his brain back in? I wish to have a little talk with him," Tarn said.

    The stoic brute did as ordered and inserted the brain module back into the cavity in Zardak's head. After sputtering out the cranial fluid in his mouth, the warlord looked up at Tarn with baleful optics.

    "Why... why are you doing this?"

    Tarn laughed as he wrapped an arm around Zardak's shoulders. "Oh, Zardak, even when faced with the peril of death, you still manage to maintain your sense of humor. But really now, a veteran such as you should know the drill by now."

    "But... I've done nothing wrong!"

    Tarn chuckled again. "Always the comedian. But since I respect your venerability, I'll humor you: it is not in the Decepticon Empire's best interests to establish a sub-faction with its own doctrine."

    "I had no other choice!" Zardak countered. "The Decepticons are in tatters; someone must take command!"

    "And therein lies the problem; you're spreading lies, petty falsehoods. And somehow, you've managed to find Decepticons gullible enough to believe you."

    "Because they're not lies! It's the truth! Megatron is dead, the empire is in ruins... we've all been left to fend for ourselves!"

    A cloud passed over Tarn's mind as he listened to these words-- specifically the ones he'd never thought he'd hear again from someone other than Starscream: Megatron is dead. He quickly pushed aside his thoughts and leaned in closely to Zardak.

    "You're lying," he said softly, disregarding his own doubts. "Megatron still functions. The Decepticons continue to thrive. And until I hear otherwise from our esteemed leader, that is how it will be."

    Zardak looked up at him with bleeding, searching eyes. Then, he did something which Tarn was not expecting: he reached up with his hand and touched the enforcer's mask.

    "Take it off."

    "What?" Tarn said, caught off-guard.

    "Your mask. Take it off. Let me see you. All you've ever done is hide, 'Tarn'-- your name, your face. But what is it that you're hiding from? What are you afraid of?"

    Tarn did not indulge him with a response. Instead, he turned his back on the warlord and gave his comrades the permission to gratify themselves with the warlord. As the screams and sound of shredding metal followed him, Tarn raised a hand to his mask.

    Contrary to what so many believed, he did not wear the mask to hide his identity, nor did he wear it to intimidate others or to honor the Decepticon ideology. He wore it for a reason lost upon everyone but himself.

    He wore it so that no one would notice when he closed his eyes.

LEFT TO THEIR OWN DEVICES

Part I: A List of Dos and Don'ts