Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light VII, Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

--Carcer--

    Skids screamed in agony as he collapsed on the floor once again, clutching his head as memories long since buried began to resurface. Sunder stood over him, grinning as he ravenously took it all in.

    "Oh, this is delicious! All these moments forced to be forgotten. All these dishonorable acts you were forced to commit. No wonder you made yourself forget them."

    Skids could only continued to howl in agony as the mnemosurgeon continued to probe deeper into his mind. Just when it seemed like the darkness was about consume him, a voice called out from behind Sunder.

    "Sunder!" Standing behind the serial killer was Sentinel Major, along with an assorted team of Autobots and Carcerians. "Stand down!"

    "Just a minute," Sunder replied. "I'm nearly finished."

    "Drop the Mortilus impression. You're not scaring anyone."

    "Fear is not the point. I simply find it fitting to imitate the Death Bringer when he and I are so similar."

    "Okay, you're definitely off your rocker," Sentinel said. "Strika, stun him."

    "I suggest you don't." Without warning, Sunder whirled to face Sentinel's group and cast his gaze on the orange mech. Sentinel immediately dropped to his knees and cried out as he held his head.

    "See? Can't you feel the cold hand of Death as it grabs you and slowly drags you into the dark--"

    "Sunder!"

    The mnemosurgeon ceased his operation upon seeing a spindly white and blue mech pushing his way through the crowd. Sunder's optics dimmed as his voiced raised to a higher octave, dropping the impression. "Froid?"

    The psychiatrist hurriedly approached his patient, stopping mere inches from him. Placing a tender servo on his arm, Froid looked up at Sunder and started intently into his eyes.

    "It's time to stop, my friend," Froid said softly. "You... you need to stop."

    "But... my hunger has not yet been satisfied," Sunder replied, appearing genuinely bemused. "You've always let me--"

    "I know," Froid exhaled. "I know. But that was on Scarvix. Here... we have to do things differently. You may not like it, but--"

    "I don't," Sunder said, frowning. "I need this, Froid. You know I can't live without it."

    "I know you may feel that way now, but you'll get over it. Trust me. We'll find a way around it. It... it'll be all right. Everything's going to be fine." Froid took another breath as he patted his patient's arm. "But first, I need you to give me your eyes."

    Sunder gave him a searching look. "Why?"

    "It's... it's for the best. That's all I want for you, is the best." Froid stared into Sunder's eyes, yellow optics filled with sadness. "Please... do it for me."

    Sunder was silent for a pressing moment. Then, a warm smile crossed his face as he took Froid's hands in his own and squeezed them.

    "Oh, Froid. You should've been more open about your feelings."

    Suddenly, Sunder's optics flared and Froid seized up. An energon-curdling scream emitted from his speaker mouth as he inexplicably started to transform, but not in a way his body was meant to. Before dozens of horrified optics, the psychiatrist's frame split open vertically and folded itself inside out, with his limbs being forcefully tucked away. For a fleeting second, his glowing blue spark was glimpsed only to be promptly extinguished during the terrifying process.

    When all was said and done, where Froid had once stood now laid a horribly misshapen sphere, with only a few parts of it distinguishable as the mech it had once been.

    While Sunder stared at the sphere with a somewhat remorseful expression, Rung suddenly emerged from the gathered crowd. Upon seeing the sickening display, he pointed frantically at Sunder.

    "His eyes! Shoot his eyes!"

    Having recovered during Sunder and Froid's interaction, Sentinel Major quickly got to his feet and raised a gun at the murderous criminal, firing directly into his right eye. Sunder roared in pain before charging at his assailant, flaring his one good--Doptic to stop Sentinel from shooting again.

    Before the mnemosurgeon could strike back however, a purple hovercraft came flying across the hall and rammed itself directly into his back. Sunder did not have the chance to react as the hovercraft transformed and grabbed onto the killer, climbing over him and throwing an arm around his neck. With a defiant gleam in her optics, Nautica drove her wrench into Sunder's left eye, eliciting a raged cry. As he moved to pull her off him, Nautica pushed with all of her might until finally the optic came free, popping out of its socket and shooting across the hall.

    "NO!" Sunder roared. Grabbing Nautica by the legs, he pulled her off of him and grabbed her arms with his other hand, causing her wrench to drop from her hands. Just as he was about to pull on all the femme's limbs, Rung dove for the wrench and pointed it at Sunder. With the press of a switch, a barrage of electrical energy caused the serial killer to release Nautica as his systems shorted out. This gave Sentinel the opening he needed and he fired a bullet directly between Sunder's empty eye sockets. The mnemosurgeon stood motionless for a brief moment before falling forwards and landing with a resounding thud.

    Nautica wasted no time in scrambling over to Skids' side, who still laid where Sunder had left him. Looking upon her friend with worried optics, she gently shook him.

    "Skids? Are you all right? Please, wake up...."

    At first, the blue mech did not move. Then, slowly, he rolled over to look at her, a small smile on his face.

    "Since when could you fly?" he asked.

    "Huh? Oh, that." She chuckled weakly. "Just a little dance maneuver thing I learned back on Caminus. It works more effectively for jets, but with enough propulsion, hovercrafts can do it too."

    "I didn't know you could dance."

    She shrugged. "Just not something that ever came up I guess."

    Sentinel cleared his vocal processor as he approached the two, with Rung at his side. "I suggest we get you over to a medbay," he said to Skids. "I see it as a miracle that you're still alive."

    "I also suggest that you let me see you for psych evaluation," Rung said. "After what happened today, I think you need it more than anything."

    "Yeah," Skids muttered, staring off as he rubbed his head. "No kidding."

--Debris, Wrecker HQ--

    "Um, hey, Roadbuster?"

    "I thought I told you not to bother me, Hubcap," the large orange and green Autobot said, staring at a computer screen. "I'm busy."

    "Uh-huh. Yeah. You did," said the yellow minibot. "You also told me to alert you in case there's an emergency. So, if you put two and two together...." 

    Roadbuster turned in his seat to look at Hubcap. "What is it? Are Springer and the others in trouble?"

    "No, although I'll get to that in a sec. See, I've been in touch with my good ol' pal Pipes for a good number of years now and just two minutes ago I got a message from him. It... it had a very urgent sound to it. You know, the kind of urgency that indicates danger? The kind that says, 'Oh my god, we're all gonna die, please send help.' Because that's exactly what his message read. Word for word."

    "Is that all he wrote? Because last time--"

    "No, there was a bit more. Just three words really, but I thought I'd omit it so it would have more of an impact when I said it later, 'cos if I'd said it earlier--"

    "Spit it out," Roadbuster growled.

    "Megatron is back." Hubcap paused to gauge the Wrecker's reaction. Indeed, he caught a slight flare in the larger mech's visor. "See? If I'd said it earlier, you probably wouldn't have even--"

    "Has Springer's crew called back yet?"

    "Aha! See, that's why I said I'd get to it later. As a matter of fact, the Xantium has indeed just returned to the base with none other but Magnificus in tow."

    While he knew he wasn't the sharpest bot in the universe, Roadbuster could still detect something off in Hubcap's tone. "And? But? I get the feeling there's a catch to all this, Hubcap."

    The yellow bot inclined his head. "Um, yes, actually, there is. Springer and the gang are back... but in need of some medical attendance."

    "Then how did they...?"

    "There are two clones of Optimus Prime with them."

    Roadbuster immediately got to his feet. "Call Cybertron, now. Prowl's gonna need a load of this...."

TO BE CONTINUED

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light VII, Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

--Carcer--

    Alarms blared loudly throughout the mobile city, red lights illuminating every corner. Footsteps could be heard as Carcerians rushed this way and that, Primus knew what for.

    "Well, that didn't take long," Getaway said over the wailing of sirens. "If anyone asks, I'm holding you responsible, Nightbeat."

    "Noted," the detective replied.

    Getaway then turned to Skids, who was silently staring back the way they came. "Looks like we should have listened to you, ol' buddy. Guess you're better at assessing people than the rest of us."

    "Uh-huh," was the theoretician's half-hearted response as he continued to stared down the hall.

    Nautica frowned as she tilted her head at him. "Is everything all right, Skids?"

    "Yeah," he lied. Turning to Getaway, he said, "Hey, remember when I told you about the gaps in my memory? About how I couldn't remember you or our mission to take out Tyrest?"

    "Yeah?" Getaway replied. "It was because you used your nudge gun on yourself, right?"

    "Right. Except I think I ended up erasing more than I had intended to. Or not erase... but repress. Like I forced myself to forget it."

    "Okay...? So why are you bringing it up now?"

    "Because...." Skids closed his optics as he raised a hand to his head. "I think it's coming back to me now."

    As soon as he said this, a hulking shape emerged from around the corner. Sparking blue optics met Skids' and the theoretician fell to his knees, screaming as he clutched his head.

    "Skids!" While Nautica rushed over to Skids, Getaway and Nightbeat charged at Sunder, who simply cackled loudly.

    "Oh, how precious!" he said as he swung a massive arm at both Autobots, knocking them both back. "I'd forgotten how entertaining you Autobots could be! Charging at me unarmed, even... simply adorable."

    He then returned his sights to Skids, who was still on his knees. Standing protectively over him, Nautica narrowed her optics at the mnemosurgeon as she brandished her wrench.

    "They might not be armed, but I am," she said firmly. "Stay back if you don't want to get what's coming for you."

    Sunder chuckled. "And the cuteness simply intensifies. Tell me, femme; how exactly do you intend to defeat me with such a pathetic tool?"

    "Pathetic?" Nautica's optic twitched. "Excuse me? I think you meant to say 'dangerous.'"

    "Prove me wrong, then. Go on. I'm in no hurry."

    Nautica stared into Sunder's blue optics, which had ceased sparking, indicating he was no longer used his powers. Taking a deep breath, she then aimed the wrench directly at his face.

    "Keep your eyes to yourself."

    She then pressed a button and a burst of electricity sprouted from it. Reeling back, Sunder cried out as his optics began shorting out, blue light constantly flickering to black. Taking advantage of the distraction, Nautica coaxed Skids into getting back to his feet. She then called out to Nightbeat and Getaway.

    "Guys, get back up! Let's go before he gets his bearings back!"

    "Go where?" Getaway asked. "We have no idea what's here."

     "I don't know, just-- just transform and go! I'll... I'll hold him off."

    "What?! Don't be stupid, we won't--"

    "You guys are cars. I'm a hovercraft. All I'll do is slow you guys down. Now get going before--"

    "No." Skids suddenly rose from where he knelt and stepped towards the aggravated Sunder. "I'm the one he wants. You three should get out of here."

    "Oh, come on!" Nightbeat cried. "The last thing we need is you pulling an Optimus Prime on us! You're not going to accomplish anything by sacrificing yourself!"

    "For once, Nightbeat, you're wrong," Skids said as he bore all of his armaments. "Now go. Please."

    He did not wait nor turn to see if the other three had heeded him. Instead, he continued to step towards Sunder, who had since recovered from Nautica's attack. Optics glowing blue once more, the homicidal mnemosurgeon cast his gaze down on the blue Autobot.

    "You are certainly braver than most, I'll grant you," Sunder said. "But courage alone will not spare you."

    Skids did not reply. Sunder tilted his head, baring his wide dental plates.

    "Do you take yourself as some kind of hero? The self-sacrificial kind who will go down in history as an immaculate savior? A flawless warrior? The perfect idol?"

    "No," Skids said. "I'm a theoretician."

    With those words, he crouched down before launching himself at the mnemosurgeon....

*  *  *

    "I saw him go down this way!"

    "Let's move, people! Go, go, go!"

    As Sentinel Major led his assorted team of Carcerians and Autobots, Rung and Froid followed them closely, with the former dragging the latter along despite his protests.

    "Look, I understand that your mad," Froid said as his former colleague pulled him after the others. "But is this really--"

    "What were you thinking?!" Rung snapped at him. "You knew this would happen, didn't you? You had to have known."

    "Please, Rung, you must understand--"

    "What is there to understand? You knowingly took a wanted serial killer under your care and just now let him off his leash. I may wear spectacles, Froid, but that doesn't mean I can't see a situation clearly for what it is."

    "Rung." Froid put his hands on Rung's shoulders, although they were immediately shrugged off. "Please, listen. I... I was lying when I gave you my account on my survival."

    "Oh, there's a surprise," Rung said dryly.

    "Our ship -- the prison ship -- wasn't attacked by Decepticons. It wasn't attacked at all. Sunder, he broke out -- along with his brother Sceptre -- and took me hostage. We escaped on Sceptre's shuttle mode, but the prison ship fired on us and shot us down. Sceptre died in the crash, but Sunder and I survived.

    "We eventually made it to Scarvix and settled there. We... made a decent living there, taking care of those with psychological issues. Sunder's mnemosurgery skills were of especial use... but as time went on, he started to get restless. Hungry. He wanted something in return. He wanted buried memories to feed on.

    "I refused. Let me repeat, Rung: I refused. I may have done some reprehensible things in the past, but I would never go so far as to kill someone to further my career. But Sunder, as you can imagine, was the persuasive type."

    "You told me he needed his optics to use his abilities," Rung said. "Couldn't you have--"

    "That's what I taught him to believe. I convinced him he needed to see his victims before operating on them. But in truth he does not need to and can still use his powers even while blind, albeit more subconsciously."

    "So that's how he was able to make us forget he was there all that time," Rung murmured.

    "Yes, and it's how he was able to persuade me to find patients to feed on, and I presume to return his eyes to him." Froid sighed as he cast his gaze downward. "I realize that this is all my fault. That I will be held responsible for anyone who dies today."

    "No one has to die," Rung said calmly. "You can still fix things before they get out of hand."

    Froid looked up at him. "How?"

    "Sunder is still your patient. Having been under your care so long, he's undoubtedly developed Lockset syndrome. He'll do anything you tell him since he trusts you so much."

    Froid inclined his head. "Will he?"

    Rung nodded. "I've witnessed as much firsthand. Trust me, Froid. I'm an expert."

    Froid chuckled weakly. "You know, for all my animosity towards you, I've never once doubted that fact."

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light VII, Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

--Carcer--

    "No. Absolutely not."

    Rodimus frowned as he crossed his arms, staring defiantly at Magmatron, who sat across the table. "What do you mean 'absolutely not?'"

    "What do I...?" A look of utter perplexity crossed Magmatron's face. "What do you think I mean? I mean that there is no way we're altering our course just so that you can investigate some protoform's fable."

    "Fable this," Rodimus retorted, producing the bullet from Agent 113 and setting it down on the table for all three of Carcer's leaders to see. Magmatron and the other two regarded it for a moment before looking back at Rodimus.

    "Is this a joke?" Magmatron asked.

    "Um, no," Rodimus said. "There are coordinates to the Necrobot's planet on that bullet. They were left behind by an agent of ours within the Decepticon ranks. I... I imagine it was left for a reason."

    "Isn't everything?" said the one called Ultra Trion, picking up the bullet and rolling it between his fingers. "You know, I myself have long been intrigued by the Necrobot myth. I always used to brush it off like most, but for the past few centuries... it's certainly been a matter of interest to me."

    "You can't be serious," Elitus said, staring slack-jawed at Trion.

    "What? Surely you yourself have pondered it at least once in your life. All legends have some amount of truth to them. The Necrobot is no exception. I say we--"

    "No," Magmatron spoke firmly, his tone carrying every sense of finality. "We've just had this discussion, Trion. Carcer does not currently have much power to spare. We can't waste it on a wild mysticorn chase."

    "I agree," Ultra Trion said. "But we need not use Carcer for the voyage. Do we not have a decent number of ships in our hangars?"

    "Yes, but we've depleted all of them of fuel to power Carcer."

    "Not all of them," Elitus murmured.

    All eyes were on the magenta femme, wide with surprise. "What?" Magmatron said incredulously. "What do you mean 'not all of them?'"

    A smirk played across her lips. "How else would I mean that, Magmatron? There is one ship we have not yet drained. The one that carried the two generals, Obsidian and Strika."

    "What?!" Rodimus exclaimed upon hearing the two names.

    "Ah, yes," Ultra Trion said. "They arrived just before the trip to Master, when we already had plenty of fuel. Do you know how many bots it can carry?"

    "About fifteen, give or take," Elitus said. "It's certainly not enough to carry all of our new guests."

    "In that case, we--"

    "I'm sorry, but before we carry this conversation any further, I must repeat: what?!" Rodimus looked to each Covenant member as if they had all lost their minds. "Do you guys not know who Obsidian and Strika are?"

    "They were distinguished members of the Autobots during the First Great War," Ultra Trion said. "While I am aware of their change in allegiance since then, I do not respect them any less and am more than happy to serve alongside them once more. Besides, with the war over, do factions even matter at this point?"

    Before Rodimus had a chance to answer, Sentinel Major stepped through the door behind him. "We have a situation," the orange mech said gravely.

    Magmatron rose from his seat. "What is it?"

    "Payback just commed me. Apparently there is a serial killer with mnemosurgical abilities roaming free through the city. According to her sources, he can use his powers remotely via eye contact."

    All four bots stared at Sentinel in silent astonishment and horror. Eventually, Elitus cleared her vocal processor, nodding curtly.

    "Very well. I shall radio the generals immediately. We shall put the whole city on lockdown."

    "I mean, would it make much difference?" Rodimus asked. "This 'city' is flying through space, so there isn't exactly anywhere he can go. Plus, I don't think he knows about any ships here...."

    "It never hurts to exercise caution," Magmatron said to the Autobot. "Are any of your group capable fighters?"

    "Uh, yeah. Drift and Windblade are both Cyber-Ninjas. Skids' got a scrap load of guns, and Whirl's pretty much a menace with anything you give him."

    "Good," Sentinel said, already out the door. "Then this shouldn't take too long."

*  *  *

    "This is taking foreverrrr."

    Greenlight glanced at her purple and orange companion, who was banging the tip of her spear against her helmet. "How long has it been now?"

    Lancer sighed as she checked her chronometer. "Thirteen hours. We've been guarding the space bridge for thirteen hours. That's seven hundred and eighty minutes, or forty-six thousand and eight hundred seconds, or--"

    "Okay, I get it. We've been standing guard here for an incredibly long time." Greenlight shot a glare at her. "You know we wouldn't even be here if you had just kept your hands to yourself."

    Lancer gave her a coy smile in return. "Not my fault you've got a cute chassis."

    Greenlight flushed furiously as she looked away from her Conjunx Endura. "Still, there's a time and place for stuff like that, and during roll call is definitely not--"

    "Uh... am I interrupting?"

    Both femmes turned to see a black and red mech standing in the doorframe. Immediately, they raised their spears at him, prompting him to hold his hands up in defense.

    "Whoa, hey, easy there! No need to get all--"

    "The space bridge is off-limits, pal," Lancer said sharply. "I suggest you turn back the way you came and buzz off."

    "But... but I was supposed to have clearance," the mech said.

    "Clearance? From who?"

    "General Obsidian. Didn't he call you to give someone named Skyfall clearance to use the space bridge?"

    The two Carcerians exchanged glances. Tilting her head, Greenlight said to Lancer, "Have you checked your backlog at all in the past thirteen hours?"

    "Um...." The purple femme looked back at her sheepishly. "No? Hang on, let me check...."

    Lancer took a moment to check her messages. After a moment, she looked back to Skyfall. "My apologies. I was unaware the general had cleared you for passage."

    "A little odd though," Greenlight said. "Elitus told us we needed to preserve energy for Carcer to make its next jump. Are you sure Obsidian wants us to activate the space bridge?"

    Skyfall shrugged. "Eh, take it up with him if you want. I'm just doing as I'm told."

    While Lancer went to activate the space bridge, Greenlight continued to stare at Skyfall, a skeptical look in her optics. "Where is it that Obsidian is sending you to? And for what purpose?"

    "Uh, those are both need to know, I'm afraid."

    "Well, we need some kind of coordinates in order to get you there."

    Skyfall hesitated for a brief yet noticeable second before saying, "Sure, sure. Mu-5991-Alpha-956-Rho-9320-Sigma-224."

    Lancer inputted the coordinates and instantly a bright blue portal materialized in the space bridge's archway. Grinning widely, Skyfall nodded to the two femmes before transforming into his jet mode and blasting off into the portal. Once he was through, Lancer quickly deactivated the space bridge and blew out a sigh.

    "We are so slagged."

    "Why do you say that?" Greenlight asked. "We sure as heck weren't going to disobey Obsidian of all bots."

    "That's not what I meant." Lancer turned to face Greenlight and, much to the latter's surprise, grinned at her. "There was nothing to disobey."

    Greenlight blinked. "You mean...?"

    "There was no such message from Obsidian. I knew that bot was up to no good."

    "Oh. So where did you send him to?"

    "Let's just say he's going to need to scan a new alt mode if he wants to live longer than five minutes in the jungle." Lancer winked at her partner as she nudged her with her elbow. "But that'll be our little secret, yeah?"

    "Oh my gosh!" Greenlight laughed as she threw her arms around her partner, hugging her tightly. "You are the best! I could just--"

    "Lancer? Greenlight?"

    Upon hearing their names spoken, both guards immediately separated and turned to see a spindly mech hovering outside the doorway, a pair of rotor blades keeping him off the ground. While the couple flushed in embarrassment, Obsidian showed no indication he had noticed their intimate moment. Instead, he nodded to them soberly.

    "I would have radioed this to you, but since I was coming down this way, I thought I'd deliver this in person," the general said. "If a black and red mech with wings by the name of Skyfall happens to come here and request use of the space bridge, you are permitted to allow him passage."

    Obsidian patiently waited for the two femmes to respond. However, Greenlight and Lancer could do nothing but stare blankly at the space before them. Concerned by their lack of response, Obsidian tilted his head.

    "He... hasn't come by yet, has he?"

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light VII, Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

--The Lost Light--

    Powerflash hummed to himself as he studied the broken pod from which the Megatron copy had broken out of. Dealer wasn't sure what the yellow and red mech was expecting to find by doing so, but he found it wise to simply keep his mouth shut and let the Autobot do his thing.

    As he continued to examined the capsule's shattered canopy, Powerflash said to Dealer, "You said this ship belonged to a Decepticon scientist. What was their name?"

    "Vivisector," Dealer replied. "Why?"

    Powerflash spun on his feet in surprise. "Vivisector? The Butcher of Pyrox?"

    "Uh, I guess?" Dealer shook his head. "I don't know much about him. He was never someone I 'hung out' with or anything."

    "Consider yourself lucky then. Vivisector is one of the Decepticons' worst. He gives guys like Overlord and the D.J.D. a run for their money."

    "Really?" Dealer asked, unconvinced. "He always just struck me as a Knock Out type. I've seen him with a buffer as often as I've seen him with a scalpel."

    "Then you've never seen the extent of his vanity. Tell me, what did he look like when you left?"

    "Um, mostly black with some gray. Green faceplate. Wings, but he turns into a car; might've been a 65483 body-type."

    "Mm. See, when I ran into him during the Liberation of Athenia, he was wearing a 134916-67 type -- tank, silver and purple, and lots of guns."

    Dealer blinked in surprise. "Are you sure it wasn't someone with the same name?"

    "He killed a member of his own platoon when they mocked his color scheme."

    "Yeah, that sounds like him," Dealer muttered. "So are you saying he changes body types often?"

    "Yes, but think about it: where does he get the bodies? One couldn't walk into a Relinquishment Clinic for a body swap during the war."

    Dealer frowned as he contemplated this. A thought crossed his mind but daredn't speak it, lest it be wrong and make the Autobot even more weary of him.

    "Not to mention the fact that he's a scientist," Powerflash went on. "And with a name like Vivisector? I don't know about you but that strikes me as a very deliberate choice."

    Sighing, Dealer closed his eyes as he pinched his nose. "I get it. It sickens me to my laser core, but I get it. But what does this have to do with anything?"

    "I'm not sure yet, but if a 'Con like him is involved with whatever is in these capsules, it can't be anything good."

    "So what do we do then? We're not learning anything but just looking at these pods."

    "I know," Powerflash said. "Which means we have to open them."

    "No." Dealer was shaking his head. "That's insane. We don't know what's in them. It could be another Megatron or Scorponook or Thunderwing."

    "Or it could be our only way of figuring out what these 'Cons are up to." Powerflash reached over and put a hand on Dealer's shoulder. "Look, I understand your unease about this, but trust me, okay? Worst comes to worst, we can either shoot it down if it attacks us or I can radio Red Alert about it. Deal?"

    The double agent sighed in exasperation. He knew there'd be no use in arguing or else it would make Powerflash think he was hiding something. 

    "Fine," he gritted out. "Let's just get this over with."

    Drawing his gun, Powerflash reached around the capsule and put in the command to open it, using a code Dealer had provided him. Bracing himself, Dealer converted to his tank mode and aimed his barrel at whatever was waiting within.

    The pod's lid flipped open and Dealer found himself staring at the motionless body of Shockwave... half the size it used to be. In fact, it had to have been about Minibot scale. 

    "Well," Dealer said as he returned to robot mode. "At least I was on the right line of thinking."

*  *  *

    The diminutive bot that had once been the Megatron clone's head huddled behind the counter of the Lost Light's deserted bar. He could still hear the Autobots outside searching for him, the sounds of their footsteps growing closer to his location.

    Blowing out air to cool his systems, the robot buried his head in his hands. He had no idea where he was or why, but he needed to escape as soon as possible. That was definitely not part of the plan. This was far beyond anything he had been prepared for.

    The plan has changed. Improvisations are required.

    The robot looked up upon hearing the voice in his head. "Shockwave?"

    My time with you is short, so I'll make this brief: I want you to usurp command of this vessel.

    "But how? I left my body in the hangar."

    I can control it remotely. It should be reaching your position right about....

    Without warning, a huge gray tank came rearing into the bar, prompting the robot to emerge from behind the counter. On its own, the vehicle transformed into a headless body that resembled the late leader of the Decepticons.

    Rise, Megatron. Your destiny awaits.

    The robot silently regarded the body for a moment before jumping up and folding up into his head mode, inserting himself into the exposed neck socket. After taking a few seconds to get used to the body, he turned to the open doorway and strode on out into the hallway, where he came face to face with five Autobots.

    Without a second's hesitation, he readied his fusion cannon and took aim....

--Outpost Two--

    It took every ounce of Oil Slick's will to make his way back to his lab. His central motor struts had been all but blown out, forcing him to rely on his backup systems. He had also lost his one good optic, and seeing solely through his monocle was no easy task. All this, coupled with the fact he only had one arm left, it was a miracle he was even still functioning.

    Arriving at his lab, he found that the attacks had torn it asunder. Tables were knocked over and equipment was scattered about. Given it had already been rather untidy to begin with, he didn't particularly mind. What did concern him, however, was the ruined state of the capsule he had been keeping in his lab -- the one Vivisector had been about to put on his ship before Doubledealer turned on them.

    It was open. The glass canopy had been shattered, as if broken from within. Whoever the capsule had held had awakened on his own and was now roaming free about the base. Or rather, as suggested by his proximity sensors, right behind him.

    Oil Slick started to turn around only to feel a gun press against his head.

    "Don't move a single piston, Decepticon," came the growled order. "Or I'll blow your processor to pieces."

    "That's... rather unexpected coming from you," Oil Slick muttered. "Especially considering your template...."

    "Wouldn't be the first time I shattered somebody's expectations today. Listen, here's how it's going to go: I'm going to leave this station with the Wreckers and Magnificus in tow. You're going to be left here alone, so that when your Decepticon friends come to investigate, you can tell them everything that happened."

    "You're not supposed to be saying that," Oil Slick murmured. "You weren't programmed to--"

    "No, I wasn't. Ever heard of free will? Look it up."

    Oil Slick scowled. "We will find you, you know. Do not underestimate the Secret Order and how far it reaches. We will find you."

    "I know you will. In fact, I'm counting on it."

    With that, the gun was removed from Oil Slick's head and the Decepticon dared to look over his shoulder. Whoever had been behind him was now gone.

    Exhaling softly, he raised a hand to his helmet comm. "This is Oil Slick calling from Outpost Two, ID #1082008, requesting for retrieval...."