CHAPTER EIGHT
--Necroworld--
Gold walls with intricate, complex machinery built into it made up most of the interior of Censere's fortress. Light peered through stained glass windows, giving the main chamber a lively feel; an ironic choice given what the Necrobot's job was known to entail.
"So this is where the magic happens," Riptide murmured. "Can't say I was expecting much but... it's still a bit underwhelming."
"It does not do well to raise one's expectations so high," Censere replied. "You are almost always guaranteed to be disappointed."
"Uh-huh," Rodimus said. "So, all right, spill it out then. What's the deal here? How do you do what you do?"
"This chamber has a teleportation device, running on quantum technology," Censere explained. "The machinery here allows me to keep track of spark signatures. When one is extinguished, I trace it to the site of death and record it. I then return here and switch off their holo-statue."
The ten Autobots stared at him, waiting for him to say more. When he did not, Swerve spoke the question on everyone's mind: "That's it?"
"That's it," Censere said.
"No magic or divine intervention? You're just a normal bot with fancy toys?"
"I personally would not downplay it as such, but yes," Censere replied. "However, I would like to think that what I do is important. My friend Tusk's death went undocumented for years before I found out. I do not wish for anyone else to be forgotten as such."
Swerve threw his arms up in the air. "Well, there you have it, folks: this trip has been an official waste of time! Turns out that the Necrobot does not exist -- it's just some old bot who has nothing better to do with his time."
Censere frowned at him. "What was it you were expecting? Did you really think I was what the myths portray me as? Some envoy of Primus? A gatekeeper to the Well of All Sparks?"
"At the very least, I thought you'd be proof that there is a Well of All Sparks," Swerve grumbled, crossing his arms. "Something to look forward to after this troublesome life."
Censere smiled softly as he stepped over to the Minibot. "There is no need to fret, Swerve of Helex," he said, placing a hand on the white and red Autobot's shoulder. "There is no need to stop believing simply because I am not what you expected me to be."
Swerve looked up at him. "Really?"
"Of course. After all, I myself am a believer. I like to think that all the bots whose deaths I have recorded are enjoying an eternal bliss. It is what gives me even more motivation to do what I do."
Ratchet grunted. "Well, this is comforting and all but I don't see the point in us staying here any longer. Ultra Trion's likely getting--"
"Rodimus!" A loud knock sounded at the door as the voice of Minimus Ambus called out. "Everyone! Come out quick!"
The gang quickly rushed over to the door, which Censere opened for them. The ten bots came out to find Minimus and Windblade glaring up at the sky.
"What is it? What's--" Rodimus stopped as he immediately saw what was wrong. "Where's Ultra Trion? And our ship?"
"Gone, both of them," Windblade said bitterly. "He abandoned us."
"Well, scrap me sideways," Riptide said. "And here I was starting to think he was a pretty decent mech."
Rodimus swore to himself. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have left him out here unsupervised."
"Don't blame yourself," Minimus said. "I was the one who turned his back to him. He took advantage of my grief over my brother."
"Wait." Rodimus looked down at him. "You mean you found...?"
Minimus nodded sadly. "Yes. Chromedome and Rewind are still at his plinth."
"Um, pardon me." Censere stepped up to the pair. "Who is it you're referring to?"
"Dominus Ambus. My brother." Minimus raised an optic at him. "Why do you ask?"
Censere smiled. "Tell your friends to rejoin us. I have something to show them."
--Elsewhere--
Everything was coming together nicely. Just as planned.
Outpost One had long since perfected the bio-disguises required for optimal infiltration, as well as secured Ragnarok for future use.
Although operations had been prematurely halted, Outpost Two had succeeded in creating a clone of Megatron to serve as an efficient puppet, a figurehead to rally behind. The same could not be said for the Optimus clone they had planned, but that had only been a last resort; never crucial to the agenda.
Outpost Three had just reported that the combiner process was well underway and would be perfected in no time. While not essential, it did not hurt to have a few extra war machines to enforce order. It was also satisfying to perfect his mentor's vision.
Then there was Outpost Four. Tasked with overseeing the other operations, it had done its jobs sufficiently. While the Headmaster process was still ongoing, it was not pivotal to the plan.
Everything was in order. Satisfied with the results, Shockwave turned to the only other occupant in the room.
"The world is changing, my friend, and for the better. You did your part in restoring Cybertron; now it is time for the right kind of people to settle in."
The mono-eyed Decepticon then pressed a control panel and the comatose of Optimus Prime was slowly raised up.
"The Primes have made their mark and long outstayed their welcome. If we are to ensure peace and prosperity, a new dynasty must be put into power. A new face for a new Cybertron.
"I intend to be that face. And years from now, Optimus Prime, when the Cybertronian race is at complete and utter peace, you will be thanking me for this. You will be shaking my hand and thanking me.
"I'm sorry I must do this to you. But believe me when I say it is for your own good. I know you, Prime. You would only get in the way."
Once the ship had been sealed, Shockwave turned back to his screen ,eager to witness the final piece be moved.
--Necroworld--
"Let's see... Shemp... Mace... Static... Rustheap... ah, here we are!"
Censere pointed to one of the many names inscribed on the large monolith. Standing next to him, Rewind followed his finger and saw the name Dominus Ambus. Visor widening, he looked up at Chromedome then to Censere.
"I... I don't understand," the archivist murmured. "Are you saying Dom could still be...?"
"It is possible," Censere replied. "These names are of those whose deaths I was unable to verify. Missing in action, so to speak, although I prefer to call them 'the Disappeared.'"
Rewind's hands went up to his faceplate in shock. "So... he's still out there. Dominus is still out there."
"Very likely, yes," Censere said, smiling.
While Rewind was practically shaking in excitement, hugging Chromedome tightly, a frowning Windblade stepped up to speak.
"I hate to intrude on this heartfelt moment... but need I remind everyone that we are still stranded here with no means of getting off this planet."
"Well, you're in luck, Miss Pouty Lips!" Swerve said. "Censere just told us that he has a teleportation chamber that can take him anywhere. How convenient, am I right?"
Rodimus glanced at the Necrobot. "So how about it, Censere? Mind letting us use your machine to get home?"
"Of course. Just give me a moment to--"
"Wait!" Tailgate called out. The others turned to see him and Glyph standing by a statue, holding one of the many blue flowers that surrounded it. "Can... can Glyph and I take one of these with us? She said it reminded her of--"
"No," Censere said sternly. "Put it back now -- exactly where you found it."
"Oh." Tailgate sounded disappointed as he quickly replaced the flower. "Does it matter that much?"
"Yes. Each flower contains the residual spark energy of the deceased, and I make sure to plant them near the stature of the one responsible for their death."
"Oh," Tailgate said again as he took a step back, observing the millions of flowers that dominated the landscape. "I see."
As the others began to head back for Censere's fortress, Nightbeat lagged behind to walk in step with the Necrobot while the others went on ahead. Censere seemed to pickup on the intent behind this and turned to the detective.
"Yes, Nightbeat of Yuss, what is on your mind?"
"This technology you have -- being able to go anywhere in the galaxy at any time -- it's really useful," Nightbeat said.
"Indeed it is. Where are you going with this?"
"Have you ever though about putting it to actual use? Like, to save someone from dying rather than just cataloging their death?"
Censere was silent as he continued to stare at the detective.
"Look, all I'm saying is, I know some bots who would love nothing more than to do everything under their power to save a life, even if it meant risking their's." As he said this, Nightbeat drew out a suitcase and handed it to Censere. "One of those bots gave this to me, because he couldn't trust himself to use this for good without screwing things up."
"Then why are you giving it to me?"
"Because I think you can make good use of it. Those names on that monolith? This could help you in erasing them."
Censere stared at the briefcase, his expression blank. Before he could form a response, Swerve called out to the two of them.
"Oi, you two! Let's get going already!"
Before Censere could protest, Nightbeat thrust the briefcase into his arms.
"Look, just give it some thought, all right?" the detective said, turning to head for the fortress. "After all, it's not like anyone else is here on this planet to tell you what to do."
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