Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light IV, Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

--The Warworld--

    "You know, this is all truly hilarious."

    Tarn winced as Deathsaurus delivered a swift punch to his abdomen, staggering him.

    "You are feared among Decepticons and Autobots alike as fearsome, unstoppable hunters."

    Tarn lunged at the warlord and grappled with him. Deathsaurus easily pulled him into a headlock and kept him there.

    "And yet without your magic crutch, you are no stronger than any other Decepticon."

    Managing to break free from the headlock, Tarn swiveled his fusion cannon at Deathsaurus and fired. The force of the blow sent the warlord flying back, but before he hit the wall, he converted into his dragon form and shot back towards Tarn.

    "Not to say you aren't strong enough on your own, don't get me wrong," the beast growled. "So far, you have been quite the formidable opponent."

    Tarn fired his weapon again but Deathsaurus dodged the next few blasts and opened his mouth, releasing a stream of fire. The flames struck Tarn's body but he managed to brace them and charge towards Deathsaurus.

    "But you must bear in mind," the dragon said as it hovered up and hung over Tarn just as the latter ran right under him. "I served in the Destron Legions during the days of old. I've brought down kingdoms, decimated cities, and beheaded tyrants."

    Tarn looked up at the warlord, his eyes narrowed behind his mask. "As impressive as your past feats may be, you are still a relic. Yesterday's model."

    Deathsaurus laughed harshly. "And does that place me as inferior to you? I think not." Returning to his robot form, the warlord landed before Tarn and brandished his blade. "If anything, I think it places me higher than you and your minions. I was there at the Decepticon Empire's birth. It was I whom Trannis turned to for wisdom and foresight. It was I who helped lay the foundation on which the Decepticons were built on."

    "I know," Tarn said, "which is why I came here."

    All around them, the fighting stopped. All optics were now on the two leaders, standing in the center of the room.

    "What?" Deathsaurus said, flabbergasted.

    "One should never make assumptions," Tarn said. "I never had the intention of slaughtering you and your crew when we came here."

    "But... but we're on the List."

    "That you are. But desperate times call for desperate measures; Megatron has fallen and the Decepticons on Cybertron are now in Starscream's hands."

    "Inconceivable," Deathsaurus murmured.

    "Indeed, hence why we have come to you. The glory of the Decepticons must be restored, and only those who still follow the cause can do so."

    The warlord sneered. "And what is the cause in your eyes, might I ask?"

    "Now, as it stands? To eliminate all those who pose a threat to Cybertron -- particularly those who enforce an anti-mechanical lifeform bias in a predominant organic universe. Take, for example...."

    Tarn pressed a command on his wrist and, in no more than ten seconds, a diminutive femme came speeding into the room, looking around eagerly.

    "Here I am," she said. "Who needs fixing? Anyone need fixing? Or are you just messing with me?"

    "No one needs fixing. Now be quiet." Turning back to Deathsaurus, Tarn said, "This is Nickel, the last survivor of Prion. Her colony was invaded by the Black Block Consortia a century ago and the entire population was wiped out. It was fortunate that we came across her, for the Decepticon worldview has given her a sense of newfound determination and is willing to do her part for the cause if it means payback on her home's destroyers."

    "Is that right?" Dezaras said, an optic raised at Nickel. "Well then, it would appear you do understand what it means to be a Decepticon. In that case, I will gladly join you in restoring our lost glory... but on one condition."

    Tarn's optics narrowed. "And what would that be?"

    "So many of our Decepticon brethren are dead because of you and your band," the warlord said coldly. "It would do them no greater honor than to bring their murderers to justice."

    Without warning, one of Deathsaurus' men seized Nickel and held a blade at her neck. The rest of his soldiers brought out their own weapons and held the rest of the D.J.D. -- save for Tarn -- at gunpoint.

    "You have your options," Deathsaurus said. "Either we execute all six of you here and now... or you do the deed yourself."

    Tarn clenched his fists as he glared at the Decepticon warlord. "No," he hissed. "Never in a million stellar cycles. You can lambaste the Decepticon cause, you can defile the empire's good name, and you can do everything possible to be put on the List a hundred times... but don't you dare ask me to take the life of a teammate or otherwise put them in danger. Unlike some Decepticons, I value them as fellow sentient beings, rather as mindless minions to do my bidding. So kill us all, if you will -- I will still be getting the last laugh, for you will have proven my point."

    Silence reigned upon the throne room. Then, with a smirk, Deathsaurus motioned his soldiers to lower their weapons and release Nickel.

    "Well done," the warlord said. "You pass the test."

    "The test?" Tarn asked.

    "Do you know why I abandoned the Decepticon army in the first place? It wasn't just because of the mess Megatron had made out of it, but also because of how callously he treated his men. My forces -- those you see here -- are like family to me. We stand as one, as all Decepticons should."

    "Agreed," Tarn said. "Are you with use then?"

    "Indeed we are. What is our first course of action?"

    "We must reconnect with the rogue Decepticon forces scattered across the galaxy. Luckily, a few of the remaining warlords happen to be on our list."

    "It will be a difficult process, swaying them to our side," Deathsaurus said. "Gigatron, I know for one, has been off his rocker for years now. Octus and his Triumvirate are too lazy to even leave their domain. And no one's heard from Preditron in years."

    "Difficult, yes, but not impossible." Taking out the datapad which contained the List, Tarn handed it to Kaon. "Scan for the next closest energy signature. Whoever you find, we'll start with them... and perhaps then we can begin our strikes on those who dare threaten Cybertron."

    Deathsaurus smirked. "Let battle be joined, eh?"

    "Oh, it's more than just a battle, my friend. We're going to war."

TO BE CONTINUED

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light IV, Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

--Garrus-16--

    "Does anyone else hear music?" Skids asked the others as they turned a corner and arrived in another dark hallway.

    "That's, like, the second time you've asked me that," Getaway said.

    "No, no, seriously." Skids brought the others to a halt. "There's music coming from somewhere up ahead. I think... I think it's the same one I hear in my head all the time."

    "It's the Empyrean Suite," Viral replied. "Eucryphia's ode to the Citadel of Light."

    "And why in Primus' good name would Decepticons be listening to that?" Rodimus asked.

    "Perhaps because they are believers?" Viral retorted. "Why do you assume that Decepticons do not practice religion?"

    "Because I thought being a Decepticon was your religion. I can't imagine someone with as big an ego as Megatron would tolerate another idol or deity being worshiped."

    Viral looked away sullenly. "You are closer to the truth than you think, Autobot...."

    "Oi, enough with the chatter," Whirl said. "Are we gonna keep movin' or just listen to scrappy music?"

    "Depends on what's waiting for us," Rodimus muttered. "How well do you know the 'Cons stationed here, Viral? Know anyone who listens to much music?"

    "I'm not much of a socialist," the Decepticon said. "Besides, I left not long after Gigatron took over, after seeing what he was doing to both the Autobots stationed here and the freed prisoners."

    "In that case, we'll have to take our chances. Weapons ready, guys."

    Following the sound of the music, Viral led the Autobots towards the dark open room from which it was playing. Signaling the others to stop and keep quiet, Rodimus crept froward and peered through the doorway.

    What he saw caused him to immediately look away, his oil churning.

    "What did you see?" Nautica whispered.

    "You don't want to know," Rodimus murmured. "You really, really don't."

    "Let me take a look." Windblade pushed past him and looked for herself. While she didn't recoil right away, she did have a look of utter horror and disgust.

    "What is it?" Nautica pressed her. "What do you see?"

    "Severed heads dangling from the ceiling. Torsos stacked up in a corner. Limbs lying on top of shelves."

    "Okay, I don't think I need any more details," Getaway said, on the verge of passing out.

    "And they're still alive."

    "What?!" everyone except Viral exclaimed.

    "That's where the music's coming from," Windblade said. "They're singing it."

    "Y'know," Whirl said, uncharacteristically quiet. "Getaway's idea of going back to the Rodpod doesn't sound half bad right now."

    "I did warn you," Viral said. "If we get caught, that's what fate awaits us. Death is a mercy that is not dispensed here."

    "Well, we can't just leave them here like this," Rodimus said. "We have to do something."

    "Nothing short of a mercy kill is wasting you time. Either we leave now or--"

    "You know," Skids said, "it would be an awful shame if something happened to that nice visor of yours, especially after just getting it fixed."

    Viral bristled from the threat but kept silent this time.

    "I suggest we keep moving," Windblade said to Rodimus. "We should get down to the bottom of this and put a stop to it. Then we can come back for them."

    Rodimus sighed, visibly reluctant. "All right. Lead the way again, Viral -- and this time, keep your comments to yourself."

    They continued their exploration of the facility, passing more rooms filled with horrors and hearing more sounds of movement. Eventually, they reached the first cell block and, before entering, Whirl was the first to point out an oddity.

    "There aren't any guards around," the ex-Wrecker said. "Are there just no prisoners or are 'Cons just that dumb?"

    "Oh, no, there are prisoners," Viral said. "It's just that Gigatron made sure to remove their transformation cogs to make escape more difficult. Besides, it's not like there are any means to leave Talrus."

    "Are any of them alive?" Rodimus asked. "Alive as in, you know, alive alive and not like... what we just saw."

    "There's bodies are still intact, if that's what you're asking. But having bore witness to everything that's happened to their comrades, they have since lost every last shred of their sanity."

    The Decepticon guide led the Autobot further into the cell block. To either side were Autobot prisoners, displaying various states of madness: rambling gibberish, pacing wildly, sitting in a vegetative state, or scribbling meaningless symbols. None of them seemed to acknowledge the newcomers' presence... save for one sitting in a cell near the end of the hall.

    "Wait, stop!" the teal-colored mech said, scrambling to his feet. "You're not Decepticons, are you?"

    "One of us is, but the rest of us aren't," Rodimus said. "And you are...?"

    "Tap-Out," the mech murmured, starting to shake his head. "No, no, no... you shouldn't be... what the slag are you doing here?"

    "Um, rescuing you?"

    "No... no, no, no! Slaggit!" Tap-Out punched the wall and the sound of it echoed throughout the cell block. "Didn't you get the message? You're doing everything I warned you not to!"

    "The message?" Rodimus asked. "We thought you were calling for help--"

    "I was warning you to not come here! It must have broken up...." Tap-Out then looked at Viral and said, "You. You were in the coffin. Why didn't you warn them?"

    "I did, believe me," Viral said. "Unfortunately, even with the war over, Decepticons are still subject to prejudice."

    "Hang on," Nautica said. "What's the deal with coffins? How do you two know each other?"

    "Before he left, Viral gave me the equipment I needed to create a communications array, from which I sent the message," Tap-Out said. "In order to avoid suspicion, he played dead and the 'Cons placed him in a coffin, which they then launched into space."

    "It was just my luck that I ended up in the sights of a salvage collector ship on its way to Hedonia," Viral said. "Otherwise, I would have been left peacefully floating out in space and no one would have opened the coffin."

    "Why?" Rodimus asked. "So no one would come here?"

    "That," the Decepticon said, "and because of this."

    Suddenly, Viral's chestplate detached itself , morphing into an avian robot, and flew at the Autobots as it unleashed a sonic scream. All seven of them collapsed to their knees, clutching their audio receptors in pain.

    "What... the... smelt?!" Rodimus managed to grit out. "We... had a deal!"

    "You and I, yes. But my little 'friend' here was not a part of it." Viral held out an arm and the bird-like drone landed on it, still emitting its sonic scream. "I'm sorry, Rodimus, but I did try to warn you. If only you had listened."

    The room started to spin and Rodimus knew he was going to shut down. Before he did, a thought crossed his mind as he looked at all six of his companions.

    Wasn't there an eighth one of us?

    Before he could think of who was missing, the world went black.

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light IV, Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

--The Warworld--

    "My liege, they're here," the Decepticon known as Jallguar informed Deathsaurus as he entered the throne room. "They've just docked in the hangar."

    "Wonderful." Rising from his throne, Deathsaurus motioned to a nearby mech. "Killbison, the crate. Now."

    While the gold Decepticon handed the crate to the warlord, Leozack said, "My liege, are you sure you don't want myself or one of the others to do the deed?"

    "No, no," Deathsaurus said with a sadistic grin. "I want to see Tarn's expression when I turn the tables on him."

    Turning back to Jallguar, the warlord said, "Does Esmeral have them occupied now?"

    "Yes, my liege."

    "Then let us not keep them waiting."

*  *  *

    "I do apologize for the mess. It's difficult keeping a warlord tidy when it's home to over five hundred Decepticons."

    Tarn said nothing as he and his four teammates followed the blue and silver femme known as Esmeral. Unlike her Conjunx Endura, the Decepticon viceroy had a far less fearsome appearance with a more streamlined look for her armor. Were it not for her red eyes and hidden nature, she could have easily passed for an Autobot.

    "My sparkmate should be here shortly," Esmeral went on. "He's getting things ready for you."

    "Are we not heading for his throne room?" Tarn asked.

    Esmeral smiled. "If you think the hangar is messy enough, his room is even worse. No, he'll be meeting us here; I take it your visit will be a short one?"

    Tarn narrowed his eyes. "We were actually planning to stay a bit longer, if you would allow us."

    "In that case... Lyzack?" Esmeral turned to a winged white and teal femme. "Would you please prepare our guests some refreshments? Guyhawk, Drillhorn, go fetch some seats and a table."

    "Are you certain we cannot move to the throne room?" Tarn asked. "All we ask for us an audience with Deathsaurus."

    Esmeral's smile was a bit too bright to possibly be genuine. "My sparkmate prefers to make his guests feel comfortable as possible before getting down to business."

    Before Tarn could protest further, the three Decepticons Esmeral had sent out returned with a table, chairs, and drinks and the five D.J.D. were quickly ushered to them.

    "Make yourselves at home," Esmeral said with an overly cheery tone. "Deathsaurus will be right with you."

    With that, the viceroy left and the five enforcers were left alone in the hangar with their drinks and a silent, watchful Lyzack.

    "I still say we tear this blasted place apart," Tesarus grumbled.

    "Now, now," Tarn said. "We want this meeting to be an amicable one."

    "Something tells me Deathsaurus is planning to be anything but amicable," Helex said.

    "Oh, I don't doubt that. In fact, I took it into account before coming here."

    Vos inquired him in Old Cybertronian.

    "We wait, Vos," Tarn said calmly. "We wait."

--Talrus--

    "So all we do is knock?"

    The eight Autobots-- plus Viral-- stood outside the Garrus-16 facility. From the outside, the place still looked intact, with no signs of any struggle. It just looked dead, with no light emitting from the inside.

    "Looks like no one's home," Getaway said, already turning back to leave. "Show's over. Back to the Rodpod."

    "Not so fast, slick," Windblade said, grabbing the escape artist's arm. "A bot like you, I'd expect you to have a thick exterior. Go ahead and knock, Skids."

    With some reluctance, Skids rapped his fist on the door... which instantly fell from its connectors after the third hit. Beyond it, there was only darkness filling an empty hallway.

    "Okay, Viral, you're our eyes," Rodimus said as he and the others turned on their helmet lights. "And remember, if you purposely leads us into a trap, Whirl's got a gun trained on you."

    "You Autobots certainly are the masters at persuasion," Viral said dryly as he stepped into the facility with the others close behind him.

    They were less than halfway down the hall when a loud clang sounded up ahead, bringing all nine bots to a halt.

    "What the slag was that?" Whirl whispered loudly, gripping his gun.

    "Probably one of the freed prisoners," Viral murmured. "They were experimented on by the Decepticons who took over, gaining animal-like appearances for their robot modes."

    "Why?" Windblade asked. "Why would anyone do something like that? Or better yet, who is behind all of this?"

    "Gigatron, one of the last warlords. His sanity has... slipped over the years and he's deluded himself into thinking he is the herald of some great entity, whom the natives of Animatron worship."

    "So he's given these Decepticon beastly designs to reflect that?" Nautica asked.

    "Exactly. And, needless to say, some of the results...."

    Another loud clang sounded and a monstrous shadow moved down the hallway.

    "...Are nothing short of terrifying."

--Warworld--

    "I do apologize for having kept you waiting," Deathsaurus said as he entered the hangar, holding a crate underneath his arm. "I trust that Esmeral has made you feel at home?"

    "Indeed," Tarn said, rising from his seat. "Now then, a private word with you, perhaps?"

    "Why certainly," the warlord said before handing Tarn the crate. "But first, please accept this gift as a gesture of goodwill, from one Decepticon to another."

    Tarn let out a harsh laugh. "Goodwill? Among Decepticons? Even from a rogue like you, Deathsaurus, I find that hard to buy."

    "Nevertheless, I would greatly appreciate it if you accepted it."

    Hesitantly, Tarn took the crate. While keeping an eye on Deathsaurus, he lifted the crate's lid... and found nothing.

    "It's empty," he murmured.

    Deathsaurus grinned. "Like you said, goodwill does not exist among Decepticons. Thus, there was nothing in the box."

    "Ah. You are hilarious."

    "I've always thought so," the warlord chuckled. "So, you wish to have a word with me in private?"

    "Yes, if it's not too much trouble."

    "Hardly." Deathsaurus motioned for Tarn and his teammates to follow him. "This way, to my throne room."

    The five Decepticon enforcers followed the warlord, though not without a sense of caution. Upon entering the throne room, they found what Tarn presumed to be the entirety of Deathsaurus' forces, numbering over five hundred. Each and every one of them were watching the newcomers intently.

    "I thought I said I wanted a word in private," Tarn growled.

    "Indeed you did," Deathsaurus said calmly. "Unfortunately, we can't all have what we want in life."

    Suddenly, Tarn stopped dead in his tracks and he collapsed to his knees. The others were about to come to his aid only to be hit with the same mysterious affliction.

    "I lied when I said the crate was empty," Deathsaurus said in a deadly hiss. "In truth, I had a scientist of mine create an invisible toxin that siphons away the mutated nucleon that makes you stronger than most Decepticons."

    "How... did you know?" Tarn grunted as he felt his energy slowly but surely leave him.

    "I've been part of the Decepticon Empire since its foundation. How could I not?" With a cruel grin, Deathsaurus motioned with his hand and all five hundred of his forces came forward. "Now then, if you are so willing... I do believe some home entertainment is in order."

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light IV, Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

--The Peaceful Tyranny--

    "Tarn?" Kaon dared to take a step into Tarn's quarters, which had been blasted open during the latter's breakdown. "Is it... safe to enter?"

    Standing over what now remained of his desk, Tarn growled in response. "This had better be worth my time."

    "I've... I've found him, sir. Deathsaurus. I've found him."

    Tarn turned to face him, optics flaring behind his mask. "Where?"

    "In the Vextor system. If we leave now, we should be able to catch him in time."

    Tarn was silent at first. Then, his body seemed to lose the tension it had before and his hidden face lit up. "Then let us make haste. This meeting is one I've been looking forward to for a long time."

    "Yes," Kaon said with a sadistic smirk. "He's had his punishment coming for a long time."

    "Oh, I'm not speaking of that. After much contemplation, I've decided that our ventures from here on out shall take a different course." Tarn briefly glanced over at the ruins of his rampage, among them the statue of Megatron. "A very different course."

--The Lost Light--

    "So what's this I've been hearing about?" Getaway said to Skids as the two of them headed for the hangar. "We have a shuttle called the Rodpod?"

    "Oh, right, you haven't seen it yet," Skids said. "It is truly the most horrendous display of egotism I have ever seen. Even Megatron was more subdued with things like that."

    "And this guy is our captain? Why did Prime even put him in charge?"

    Skids shrugged. "Search me. But hey, unless he starts decorating the entire ship in flame decals, I wouldn't worry too much about it."

    The two Autobots eventually reached the hangar bay and, upon entering, Skids immediately stopped dead in his tracks and who he found waiting by the Rodpod. Standing with Rodimus, Whirl, Windblade, Nautica, Ratchet, and, surprisingly, Brainstorm, was a spindly mech baring a visor-screen for a face and thin blades for arms.

    "Viral?!" Skids exclaimed. "What in Primus' holy name are you doing here?"

    "Oh, right, I forgot to tell you," Getaway said sheepishly. "This is, uh, who we found in that coffin. So, er, surprise?"

    Skids scowled as he glared at the Decepticon. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot that face of yours again."

    "I don't think your captain would appreciate it much," Viral replied coolly. "Your crewmates require my optics be in functional order if I am to guide you through Garrus-16."

    'Sorry, Skids, but we do," Rodimus said. "As I've already told the others, Garrus-16 has been taken over by Decepticons and only Viral here knows what sort of... changes have been made to it."

    "Are you sure we can trust him?" Getaway asked.

    "No. In fact, I'm ninety-percent sure we can't," Rodimus said. "But I'd rather go into this with a bad pair of optics then none at all."

    "Personally, I'd beg to differ," Windblade muttered.

    "Right. So, any questions before we take off?"

    "Just one, and you'd better have a good answer." Nautica jerked a thumb at Brainstorm. "Why are we bringing him along?"

    "Because his knowledge on exotic weapons and tech like the Decepticons tend to use has no equal," Rodimus said. "Besides, that fake Decepticon badge could come in handy. Primus knows it's served him well these past few centuries."

    "Um, right," Brainstorm muttered, avoiding any eye contact with the others.

    "Great. Now then, if that's all, let's go."

--Somewhere in the Vextor system--

    "The Warworld has finished refueling, my liege."

    Crimson optics lit up beneath the rim of a blue helmet. The Decepticon warlord who owned them raised them to the azure mech standing before him.

    "Excellent," he said quietly. "Prepare the hyper-drive for--"

    "Er, there's more, my liege," Blue Bacchus said. "We've received a transmission from another Decepticon ship. The Peaceful Tyranny."

    The warlord straightened himself in his throne. "The Justice Division?" he said, a smirk playing on his face. "How unexpected. Bring them up on the viewscreen."

    "Yes, my liege." With a bow, Blue Bacchus left to prepare the gigantic viewscreen which filled the wall directly across from the warlord. In less than a minute, a visage resembling the Decepticon insignia filled the screen.

    "Hail, Lord Deathsaurus, greatest and wisest of the First Warlords."

    "Don't waste my time with your veiled attempts at flattery, Tarn. Do you think I don't know why you're calling?"

    "I doubt you do."

    Deathsaurus sneered. "Don't take me for a fool. I know that I'm on the List and I know that you're coming for me. It's an encounter I've been looking forward to for centuries."

    Tarn simply held Deathsaurus' gaze for a moment before saying, "We shall be exiting hyperspace soon. Will you accept us as your guests?"

    The warlord's scowl was suddenly replaced by a mirthless grin. "Why, of course. My humble abode is always open to fellow Decepticons. All you have to do is knock."

    "Then expect us shortly."

    With that, Tarn's visage vanished from the viewscreen. From behind Deathsaurus' throne appeared a white and teal mech, a feline-shaped helmet adorning his head.

    "My liege, are you sure this is wise?" Leozack asked. "I have heard accounts on the D.J.D. and they are said to be among the strongest Decepticons of the empire. They may be only five, but they have the strength of hundreds."

    Deathsaurus scoffed. "Fear has the tendency to stretch the truth. Legends such as the Necrobot or the Sparkeater only gain such prevalence because people fear them -- or rather, the idea of them. And so the tall tales told around fires are taken as fact and false accounts are believed to be genuine."

    "But the D.J.D. are real," Leozack said.

    "That they are. But seeing is believing, so until I see all five hundred of my soldiers laying dead at my feet and hear Tarn's voice speaking softly into my audio sensor as my spark's pulse slows to a stop... only then will I believe the tales."

    "I see," Leozack murmured, though Deathsaurus doubt he actually did. "Shall I have the others take up position?"

    "Yes, do that," the warlord said with a small smile. "After all, I did promise a warm welcome."

--Talrus--

    The trip down to Talrus was, to Rodimus' relief, uneventful. Shortly before he had gathered the crew, Viral had suggested that a cloaking device by installed into the Rodpod to avoid detection. And so far, that piece of advice had yet to get them all turned into scrap. As such, Rodimus felt it safe to approach the Decepticon for more.

    "We'll be touching down soon," he said to Viral. "Anything you can tell us before we step off the ship?"

    "There won't be any defenses outside the facility, I can tell you that. The Decepticons inside want to have visitors or Autobots attempting to rescue their kin. It gives them more things to play with."

    "So what if we were to send in an entire fleet of Autobots?" Windblade asked. "How would they be able to defend themselves?"

    "What you must realize, Autobot, is that Garrus-16 is more than just a prison facility," Viral said. "I'm not sure how many if anyone in your highest ranks know the truth about it, but we Decepticons have discovered it."

    "What is Garrus-16 then, if it's not just a prison facility?" Skids asked.

    Viral looked away and for once, he seemed to be disturbed by what he knew. "It's a house... a house of horrors."

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light IV, Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

--Recovered audio-recording from Garrus-16--

    "You know, this is getting just a bit tedious, don't you agree? I'm already starting to get bored."

    "I'll... never talk...."

    "But my dear friend, you've already lost three of your limbs. Are you sure you wish to keep playing?"

    "Kill me... if you please. I'm not telling you... anything."

    "Your defiance is admirable... but ultimately useless."

    "Argh!"

    "Oh, come now. You should be used to the pain by now. But don't worry, it will end soon -- one way or another."

    "Just... get it over with. You're not getting anything out of me."

    "Perhaps I should mention that you are not the first Autobot I've tortured so far. I've gone through about... oh, about seven so far. And if you refuse to talk, there's a lot more to choose from. Think about that for a second: the lives of all your men are now weighing on your shoulders. How would you like to die knowing that you caused their own deaths?"

    "They are... pre-prepared to do their duty."

    "Which is what? To die for your cowardice? And you call yourselves the good guys...."

    *A chainsaw roars to life*

    "I grow tired of asking this, so this will be the last time: what are the codes to Aequitas?"

    "Go to blazes."

    "Heh. You first."

--End of recording--

--The Lost Light, Swerve's--

    "So what's the presentation today, Blue'?" Pipes asked as the blue mech stood at the counter of the bar. "Metropolis? 2001? The Wrath of Khan?"

    "Alphaville," Bluestreak said, cleaning out a glass. "It's People's Choice and Whirl's suggestion got picked."

    "Jean-Luc Goddard for the win!" the ex-Wrecker cried from where he sat with Skids and Nautica, the latter two not paying much attention to the film itself.

    "Um, right." Once Swerve had provided his drink, Pipes went over to their table and sat with them. "So," he said, "how did that trial went down?"

    "That's classified information," Whirl snapped. "You don't deserve to know. Keep your olfactory sensors to yourself, Snoops."

    Skids rolled his optics. "You weren't there either, wise-guy, and neither was I. And Nautica here sure isn't telling us anything."

    The purple femme simply snorted as she scowled at the wall.

    "Wow, she seems pretty upset," Pipes whispered.

    "A matter of understatement, are you?" Skids replied wryly.

    "No, seriously. I've seen upset, and that right there is really upset. That's upset tenfold. Was she even a part of the timey-wimey shenanigans?"

    "No, but keep in mind that she worked closely with Brainstorm."

    "Oh, yeah! I read a rumor in the Lost Light Insider that they were a couple--"

    "We most certainly are not a couple," Nautica retorted hotly. "We weren't even friends. Just... work acquaintances."

    "Suuuure you were," Whirl said snidely. "Work acquaintances always give each other cute nicknames like 'Stormy' and 'Naut.'"

    "That doesn't indicate--"

    "Plus you always carry that wrench around ever since Brainstorm modified it for you."

    "I've always had carried it--"

    "Nautica and Brainstorm, walking in the Helix Gardens! K-I-S-S-- wait, does he even have a mouth? I don't know if his faceplate is one of those retractable ones or--"

    The ex-Wrecker was cut off by a wrench thrown at his head. While he yelled out in pain, Skids and Pipes watched as Nautica stormed out of the bar, fuming all the way.

    "You sure weren't kidding, Pipes," Skids muttered. "She's beyond upset now. She's transcended into a greater plane of unhappiness."

    "I guess. But I'm sure throwing things at Whirl is a natural reaction for most."

    "I'm not talking about that," Skids said. "I'm referring to the fact that she didn't pick her wrench back up."

--The medibay--

    Tap tap tap.

    "All right, 'bots," Ultra Magnus said to the half-dozen Autobots who had their guns aimed at the coffin. "Keep your aim steady."

    Tap tap tap.

    "Ratchet, when I count to three, open the coffin."

    "Got it."

    Tap tap tap.

    "One... two...."

    TAP TAP TAP.

    "THREE!"

    Ratchet released the clasps of the coffin and the lid hissed open. Emerging from the capsule was a spindly mech with blade-like arms and a visor screen for a face. He moved to get out of the coffin but was stopped cold as all seven Autobots before him raised their guns at him.

    "Don't move!" Ultra Magnus said sternly. "Move a single piston and you're scrap."

    "Considering what I've been through, I'd call that a reprieve," the mech muttered.

    "Who are you? What were you doing inside a coffin?"

    "Not even an offer of energon or oil? My, some warm welcome this is."

    "We don't exactly take people popping out of coffins too easily," Magnus said.

    "Well, rest assured that I am not a zombie."

    "Correct," Ambulon grunted, standing behind the mech with Ratchet and First Aid. "You're a Decepticon."

    All optics and visor-screens turned to the medic. "How do you know?" First Aid asked.

    "He was part of the science team that experimented on me, when I was with the Decepticons," Ambulon said. "You remember me, don't you, Viral?"

    The Decepticon studied him for a moment before saying, "Ah, yes, that's right. You were the right leg."

    "Viral?" Ultra Magnus frowned. "Last I recall, you were imprisoned at Garrus-16 over seven months ago by the Secret Service."

    "Things have changed at Garrus-16, and not at all for the better," Viral said darkly. "I was lucky to leave with my life, let alone leave at all."

    "We're recently received a distress call from Garrus-16. Care to tell us what's happened there?"

    "You do not need to know," the Decepticon said quietly. "If you value your life -- and those of your crew -- you will stay as far away from that place as possible."

    "And why should we believe you?" asked Getaway, one of the bots Magnus had brought with him. "Why should we take this from a Decepticon?"

    "Take it or leave it -- I won't try to stop you either way. All I ask is that you drop me off somewhere -- anywhere besides Talrus, of course. I don't want any part of your adventures."

    Before Magnus could reply, his comlink buzzed and he answered it. "Ultra Magnus, here."

    "Rodimus. Have you found what's inside the coffin?"

    "Yes. We've got an escaped Decepticon on our hands; a convict from Garrus-16."

    "Wow, talk about coincidence. Can he tell us anything about it?"

    "Only that we should avoid it like the plague."

    "Yeah, I'm not going to trust a 'Con on that," Rodimus replied. "We'll take him with us when we go down there, whether he likes it or not, so that we have a guide of some sort."

    "A wise idea," Magnus said, to which Viral snorted. "Are you picking up any signs of Decepticon activity?"

    "Not from orbit, no, everything looks pretty barren. Mainframe says he's picking up over a hundred life signs in once concentrated area -- that would be Garrus-16, I believe."

    "Right. I'll be on the bridge shortly, with the Decepticon. Magnus out." After ending the call, Magnus looked back down at Viral. "Sorry to ruin any plans you had."

    "Me?" Viral let out a humorless chuckle. "You, sir, have just signed the deaths of every single spark on this ship. And you call yourselves the good guys...."

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light IV, Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

--The Lost Light--

    All optics were trained on the aqua green mech sitting in the center of the room. Seated next to him was his defense Chromedome and before them both were the three judges: Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, and Emirate Xaaron. A tense silence hung over the room until Rodimus finally broke it.

    "Brainstorm, you have the dubious honor of being the first Cybertronian to be tried by the Lost Light Internal Legal Affairs Committee. This board would never have been formed had it not been for the danger your antics put the entire universe in. Are you proud of this fact?"

    Brainstorm said nothing.

    Xaaron revved softly. "Before we begin, I'd like to remind everyone that you're either here by invitation or because you were involved with the events that have led to this trial. I would like to ask everyone to shut off any recording devices-- that means you, Rewind. And Riptide, datapads count as well."

    The Hydrobot grumbled as he put away his datapad.

    "Now then, are there any questions?" No one spoke. "Then let us begin."

    "Brainstorm," Ultra Magnus said, "you are aware that you put the entire universe at risk by meddling with the timeline. While your intentions were noble, your actions nonetheless placed several lives at risk."

    "Cybertronian lives, you mean," Brainstorm replied. "At the same time, I was sparing the rest of the galaxy from the Decepticons' atrocities."

    "Maybe so, but your alterations would have still place other worlds at risk. For instance, Earth, in your new timeline, had its population wiped out by the Functionists."

    "Is that right?" For his part, Brainstorm looked genuinely surprised by this news. "That... certainly was not part of my intentions."

    "And," Chromedome said, "in my client's defense, he did not know every last detail of this new timeline-- only that the atrocities of our war would have been averted."

    "That may be true," Rodimus said. "But as I understand it, your motivation was a selfish one; you lost someone you cared for and you sought to bring them back by preventing the war."

    "I won't deny that," Brainstorm said. "When it all comes down to it, that's what spurred me to dall all of this."

    "Is that a confession?"

    "Call it what you want."

    "Right then," Rodimus went on. "With that settled, let's move on to the next subject concerning you: your Decepticon symbol."

    "Ah. So you know about that as well."

    "The war may be over, but we are nonetheless concerned by this development," Xaaron said. "Care to explain yourself?"

    "Gladly," Brainstorm said. "When Arcana and I started work on the time machine, we scoured the galaxy for the needed tech, but a lot of it proved ineffective. When rumors leaked of the Decepticons' developing transwarp technology, I seized the opportunity and joined them as a double agent to gain access to it."

    "Did the Decepticons not ask for anything in return?" Ultra Magnus asked.

    "Of course they did. But all I gave them was old information with a new spin to it. It warded off enough suspicion until I had what I needed."

    "But the Autobot Secret Service soon got their own hands on the Transwarp tech," Ultra Magnus pointed out. "You could have gone to them for it."

    "But the thing is, I was the one who gave them the tech-- anonymously, of course. The reason I did it that way was because, well, it's me. Would you really trust me with tech like that?"

    "No," Xaaron admitted.

    "And as recent events have proven, we would have had good reason not to do so," Rodimus added.

    "Again, I don't blame you," Brainstorm said. "And there you have it; my confession, if you will. Judge me as you please, but don't do so as an Autobot or a Decepticon... judge me as who I actually am: a Cybertronian who wanted to make a difference."

    The room went silence. The three Autobots on the Committee glanced at each other and held conversation over private radio. When they were finished, Xaaron looked at Brainstorm and folded his hands.

    "As I said before, the war is over; allegiance no longer matters. As such, we shall not hold that against you. As for your temporal ventures, we shall have your time machine be destroyed and you and your lab shall be placed under strict supervision. Unless, of course, you wish to depart the Lost Light...?"

    "No," Brainstorm said firmly. "This is my home. I'm not going anywhere."

    "In that case...." Xaaron tapped the table with a gavel. "Court adjourned."

--The medibay--

    "Well? Anything?"

    "I'm not detecting any lethal pathogens," Ambulon said as scanned the coffin. "I'd still wait a few days before opening it-- maybe even a week."

    "Agreed," Ratchet said. "We have no idea where this coffin has been or how whatever is inside died."

    "Um, Ratchet?" First Aid poked his head up from the other side of the coffin, holding another scanner. "I would like to differ on that 'dead' thing."

    Ratchet frowned. "What do you mean?"

    "It's faint, but I'm picking up a spark signature coming from here. Whatever's in here... it's still alive."

    All three medics stared at the coffin in silence, musing over this unsettling revelation.

    "Should we open it then?" Ambulon finally asked.

    "Too risky," Ratchet said. "For all we know it could be something dangerous like a Buffaloid or a Corvicon. Heck, it could even be non-Cybertronian like a Recyclon or a--"

    Tap tap tap.

    The medics fell silent again, this time all the more disturbed. Were it possible for their race, Ratchet's face would have went pale.

    "Go get Magnus," he murmured.

--The bridge--

    "Captain on bridge."

    With the burden of Brainstorm's trial having been lifted from his shoulders and his mind cleared of all the time travel business, Rodimus practically jogged for his command chair, with Drift and Ultra Magnus behind him.

    "Right-o, then! On with the quest! What's the first stop on your interstellar map, Drift?"

    "Caminus," Drift replied. "It makes up the tip of Solus' Arrow, and, according to some, points in the direction of Cyberutopia. Given the colony's fabled history with the Titans, I have faith that our answers may lies there."

    "Sweet! Let's set a course and--"

    "Not so fast, caps," Blaster called from his station. "While you were gone, I picked up a stray transmission. It's broken up, but here's what I was able to get."

    The communications officer brought the message up and played it. A distorted voice crackled through the speakers.

    "<static> Decepticons <static> Garrus-16 <static> help <static> please <static>"

    Once the message had come to an abrupt end, Ultra Magnus raised a hand to his chin. "Garrus-16? That's on Talrus, which isn't far from here."

    "Well, if they're sending a call for help, who are we to ignore it?" Rodimus said. "Mainframe, change of plans: take us to Talrus."

    While Mainframe set the coordinates, Ultra Magnus suddenly raised a hand to his helmet's comlink. After a moment of hushed conversation with whoever was on the other end, he turned back to Rodimus.

    "That was Ratchet. He says that Rewind and Chromedome brought a coffin on board and that someone is tapping from the inside."

    Rodimus looked up at his first mate with a completely placid expression. "You know," he said calmly, "if you were anyone else, I'd say you were trying to mess with me."

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light IV, Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

--Emergency transmission, first attempt--

    Hello? This is <static> calling from <static>-16. We've been taken over by Decepti<static> and <static> Hang on, let me just adjust... there.

    Let's try this again. This <static> agh, signal's still breaking up. Look, I haven't got much <static> so just... bear with me.

    I'm calling from Garrus-16. We've been taken over by <static>cons and the prisoners have been broken free. Some of them have esca<static> while the rest decided to get their payback on us.

    <static> You might think this is a call for help... it's not. <static> a warning: stay away from Garrus-16. Don't send for help or <static> of any kind. You will find nothing but desolation and <static>.

    One more-- one last thing before I <static> Please, do not-- I repeat, do not-- open the <static>.

--End transmission--

--Hedonia--

    "So... you're transforming robots, too?"

    "Indeed," the hulking dark green and black robot replied. "We're called Stentarians. I am 16444/9, field commander of the Ammonite army. You?"

    "Skids. Autobot theoretician."

    "Skids. What an interesting name."

    "You're one to talk."

    "Only the Supreme Exalted Emperor is allowed a designation such as yours. We Ammonites are all cogs of a greater machine, hence our identifiers."

    "Groovy." Taking a sip from his can of fuel, Skids looked around the bar for Whirl, who had been with him no less than ten minutes ago. Odds were that the ex-Wrecker had gone to pester the others at the gift shops.

    Turning back to 16444/9, Skids said, "So, what are you doing here on Hedonia?"

    "Laying low. We're on the run from our accursed foes, the Terradores. My men are currently seeking out a new ship to throw them off our trail."

    "So you guys are at war?"

    "Yes. It's been a long and chaotic war and our factions are currently at a stalemate. But as I've constantly assured my men, victory will soon be ours."

    "I hear ya'. My race has been at war, too. It only just ended six months ago, after a millennia of conflict."

    "Only a millennia?" 16444/9 smirked. "My, that's quite a record."

    "Oh, yeah? How long have you guys been at war?"

    "As of today? Oh, about sixteen million years."

    Skids spat out his drink... only to realize he hadn't taken one yet. After quickly rectifying that, he looked at the Ammonite incredulously. 

    "Sixteen million years?! Six-teen?! A one and a six followed by six zeroes?!"

    "Jealous, much?"

    "Jealous? Why would I be...?" Skids turned away and rubbed his helmet crest. "Sixteen million years."

    "I thought we'd made it clear at this point."

    "I bet it wasn't as disastrous as our war, though. We've been blacklisted by the Galactic Council."

    "Impressive. Our war was what caused the Galactic Council to be formed in the first place. I understand it's difficult to top that, so kudos."

    Skids scowled to himself but decided not to press the conversation any further. It was already clear that these Stentarians were more proud than they should have been for what they had caused. Dropping a handful of coins down on the counter, he got up from his seat.

    "Well, I've gotta run. It's been nice talking to you. I hope the war goes in your--"

    Suddenly, the door swung open and a spindly blue mech stepped into the bar. Skids looked at Whirl and squinted his optics, noticing something different about his crewmate.

    "Do I want to know why you're wearing a cape?"

    "Doesn't it look cool?" Whirl asked. "I bet you a hundred Shanix that you're jealous as Pit."

    "I'm not... where did you get it?"

    "Some loser was wearing it. We got into a little... argument and I had to... handle the situation as I saw fit. Took his cape and staff before his buddies had time to react. It's a bit short on me, I'll admit, but--"

    "Wait," 16444/9 said, suddenly taking interest in Whirl's new choice of garment. "Show me the staff."

    The former Wrecker held up a gold, ornate staff in clear view. "Isn't it great? All I need is a crown and I could pass off as the King of Taros IV."

    "That's... that's the staff of Imperius Drax!" the Ammonite exclaimed. "The Eternal Sovereign of the Terradores! What did you do to him?"

    "Bumped him off. He was an arrogant little fink who acted all high and mighty. It was pathetic to see, since he only came up to about my knee. I'm sure I did the universe a favor by getting rid of him."

    "You killed him?!" 16444/9 cried in astonishment. "You killed the Terradorian leader?! We've been at war for sixteen million years and you killed our feared enemy in the matter of minutes?!" 

    "No need to thank me," Whirl said. "It's what I do."

    "Really, it is," Skids muttered, not believing a single word he was hearing now.

    "This... this is huge," 16444/9 murmured. "I must radio my superiors. This could change everything."

    While the Ammonite soldier left the bar, still speaking hushed words of awe, Skids gave Whirl a look. "Is it possible to take you anywhere without attracting trouble?"

    Before Whirl could reply, the door opened again and Rewind rushed into the bar.

    "There you two are," the archivist said. "We're all set to go, but Chromedome and I've found something that we need to bring aboard."

    "What is it?" Skids asked.

    "A coffin."

    Skids' mouth fell open in incredulity but then quickly closed once he glanced at the cape-wearing Whirl. "Yeah, after what I've just been through, that doesn't really come close to competing."

--The Lost Light--

    "The hyper-drive is nearly through recharging. We'll be all set to go once the trial is finished."

    Rodimus simply grunted as he carved drawings into his desk.

    Perceptor frowned as he raised an inquisitive optic ridge at Rodimus. "Something troubling you?"

    "Nautica just got back to me."

    "And?"

    "She says Brainstorm's a Decepticon."

    "Oh." Perceptor blinked as he processed this sudden bombshell. "That's... unexpected. How did she find that out? Did he just tell her?"

    "She knocked his mouthplate off and saw the symbol painted on the inside." Rodimus huffed as he set down the knife he was using to carve. "Honestly, as if this venture wasn't processor-ache inducing enough...."

    "Do we know for certain the insignia is an indicator of his allegiance? For all we know it could be he keeps it as a reminder for something-- a reminder of what the Decepticons had done to affect him, perhaps."

    Rodimus said nothing, simply staring at his handiwork.

    After a moment, Perceptor said, "Of course, I'm just speaking as his colleague. We may not have been friends or anything, but I knew him well enough that I have my doubts about this. But then again, no one saw Optronix's change of allegiance coming."

    "Right," Rodimus muttered as he got up from his desk. "Well, looks like it's just about time. Let's get this over with."

    Perceptor eyed the captain skeptically as he walked for the door before following him.

--Emergency transmission, second and final attempt--

    Okay, I think the signal's a bit stronger from here. Let's try this again, in case the first time didn't go through.

    I won't bother with names and other details; they're frivolous at this point. To anyone who hears this-- and, for your sake, I hope you do-- here's a list of dos and don'ts. Actually, scratch that; it's just a list of don'ts.

    Don't go to Garrus-16. Don't open the coffin. Don't check the attic. Don't wake the monster. And, for Primus' sake, don't let them take <static> 

--End transmission--