Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars II, Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

--Outpost One--

    Convoy stood in the corner of the impromptu interrogation room, made from one of Tarantulas' many labs. Archforce stood next to him as they watched Prowl pace back and forth before a chair-confined Magnificus, who had yet to speak a single word in the past thirty minutes.

    "You know," Prowl said as he slowly strode from one end of the room to the other. "You aren't doing yourself any favors by keeping quiet. The longer you keep your mouth shut, the more likely I am to bring in the big guns."

    Magnificus did not respond. Convoy wondered if he was even listening.

    "Your exploits are very well known," Prowl went on. "The Xeptos Incursion, the Mebion Massacre... we have an endless amount of files on you... even those the Decepticon Secret Service don't have."

    At this, Magnificus' head jerked slightly. Prowl noticed this and smirked.

    "How would you like the D.J.D. to pay you a visit? I'm pretty sure Tarn doesn't know of your involvement in the Mekhos Coup of 8962."

    "How do--" Magnificus started but Prowl cut him off with a raise of the hand, in which he held a small device.

    "I can transmit it all to him right now. Should I give him a call?"

    "You're bluffing. Why would you summon the D.J.D. here? They would kill you all."

    "This station has an infinite amount of hiding spots. Plus the D.J.D. don't like to linger in one spot. They'd just kill you and be on their way again."

    Magnificus did not look completely convinced. However, his fear of the D.J.D. seemed to prevail over any sense of doubt in his mind as he eventually sighed, lowering his head.

    "Fine. I'll talk."

    "Glad to hear it." Lowering his hand, Prowl then gestured at Convoy and Archforce. "Care to explain these two?"

    Magnificus lifted his gaze to the two clones. "They're results from our earlier cloning experiments," he explained. "The Megatron one... he failed the tests we put him through. He was too compassionate. Too weak."

    "And the Optimus clone?"

    "He was one of only two we made. We didn't get far in terms of testing him when you Autobots showed up."

    "And just why were you making clones to begin with?"

    Magnificus' hesitation was brief but noticeable. "We needed a Megatron clone to unify the Decepticon forces that had been scattered. Starscream certainly wasn't going to cut it so we needed a new symbol -- one that we knew would work as it already had for a thousand years."

    "And Convoy? Was he made to replace Optimus?"

    Magnificus shook his head. "There were no plans to replace Optimus Prime. It had simply been a test to see if we could create such a clone should the need every arise."

    "I see." Prowl fell silent for a moment as he resumed pacing. "So what's this Secret Order's overall plan?" he then asked.

    Again, Magnificus hesitated. "I don't know."

    Prowl stopped to look at him. "You don't know?"

    "I only know what I've been told, and that is that we're going to ensure order and peace on Cybertron." Magnificus gave another shake of his head. "But I don't know what that's supposed to entail. I'm only doing what I was ordered to do."

    "And who ordered you?" Prowl asked. "Who's in control of the Secret Order?"

    "Shockwave."

    "Shockwave's dead."

    "His original body was destroyed but his personality had been saved in a backup hard-drive within his assistant drone Fistfight. We created a new body for him and uploaded the hard-drive into the clone's processor." Magnificus chuckled. "Honestly, are you even surprised? That cyclops has plans with more layers than a slice of chrome-alloy cake."

    Prowl revved as he mused over this. "What about the other Outposts? What role do they play?"

    "Outpost Three I know is working on developing combiner technology. That has been something we've been trying to accomplish for centuries."

    Prowl nodded. "I am aware. And the other two?"

    "Well, I couldn't tell you what Tarantulas was trying to accomplish here, being the kind of mech he is," Magnificus muttered. "And Four mainly served as a monitor for the other three, making sure things were operating smoothly."

    "I see. And what about the Floating Fortress?"

    Magnificus blinked. "The what?"

    "The Floating Fortress," Prowl repeated. "In the Nimbus system. Have you heard of it?"

    "I...." Magnificus looked pale as he shook his head. "No. No, I haven't."

    Prowl leaned in towards him. "Are you sure?"

    "Positive."

    "I can still send Tarn that--"

    "I don't know!" Magnificus cried. "I swear to Primus, I don't know!"

    Prowl raised an optic ridge. "Nothing at all? Not even the smallest inkling?"

    "No." Magnificus was whimpering now. "Please, don't...."

    Prowl continued to stare at the Decepticon for a moment before leaning back. "Very well. Thank you for your cooperation."

    With that, he turned to leave the room, leaving Magnificus confined. He held the door open, indicating for Convoy and Archforce to follow him.

    As they walked away, Convoy said to Prowl, "You should have pressed him further. I could tell he was lying about not knowing of the Fortress."

    "So could I," Prowl said. "But I got a message from Rodimus. We're all needed on the Lost Light."

    "All of us?" Archforce asked.

    "Yes, all of us."

    "Did he say why?"

    "No." And Prowl left it at that, saying nothing for the rest of the trip.

--The Lost Light--

    "All right, Trailbreaker, that's enough. No more Nightmare Fuel for you."

    "Trailbreaker? Hooz Trailbreaker?" the black and red mech slurred as Hoist and Riptide carried him out of the bar. "I'm Trailcutter! The furious sound of symphonic brutality!"

    Swerve let out a wistful sigh as the last of his patrons began to filter out. The only ones left were Tailgate and Glyph, secluded in the corner, and Skids, who had made it late but Swerve didn't mind. All in all, he considered it a successful night.

    As he finished locking up the engex distillery, he heard Ten say his own name and turned around to see Clutch standing in the doorway. Scowling, Swerve raised a finger at him.

    "Look, I already said I wasn't going to sign your thing, so just bugger off. Besides, we're closed."

    "But--" Clutch started to say.

    "Ten, show him the door."

    "Ten." The reprogrammed Legislator moved towards the self-declared Swerve fan and shooed Clutch off. Once he was gone, Swerve let out an exasperated sigh.

    "God, I hate that guy."

    "Has he been bothering you all day?" Skids asked.

    "Pretty much," Swerve muttered. "He let up after the fourth attempt, although that's partly because Whirl was in a frenzy. I just don't get what his deal is."

    "Didn't you say he had a fan club based around you?"

    "Yeah, except he's the only member I ever see. He tells me there are others, but I never see them." Swerve frowned as he thought for a moment. "Unless they're hiding... watching me from afar."

    "Have you ever talked with him?" Skids asked.

    "Slag no!" Swerve exclaimed. "God, could you imagine? I'd never be able to escape him!"

    "Does anyone else know him?"

    Swerve shrugged. "I know that Crosscut had him audition for his play, but beyond that...." The minibot then glanced at Skids. "Why? Are you thinking about...?"

    "You know me." Skids grinned as he got off his stool. "Always playing with danger."

    Swerve grunted. "Go on ahead. I'll be sure to clear a place in the morgue for you."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars II, Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

--The Lost Light--

    "I must admit, I've had warmer welcomes."

    Rodimus glared at Protoform X -- or Rampage, as he insisted to be called -- who was confined to a chair by a bent steel beam wrapped around him. The two of them were in Ultra Magnus' office, with Magnus himself (well, Minimus really) and Drift standing behind Rodimus.

    "Forgive us for not rolling out the red carpet," Rodimus said dryly. "You're not exactly the most famous of bots. Infamous, maybe."

    Rampage laughed, which sounded like metal scratching against metal. "Yes, I've made quite the name for myself, haven't I? I don't blame you for taking caution. I would probably do the same."

    "How did you escape Garrus-13?" Minimus asked, folding his arms. "It's supposed to be one of the strongest penal institutions in the galaxy, afters Garrus-9 and 16."

    Rampage cocked his head. "Garrus-13? ...Oh. You mean the Floating Fortress."

    The three Autobots exchanged confused glances. Drift then looked back at Protoform X. "Answer the question."

    "I didn't escape," Rampage said. "I was transferred."

    "Transferred?" Minimus repeated. "I'm sure I would have known--"

    Rampage suddenly exploded into laughter again, startling the three Autobots. "That's right!" he said in between guffaws. "I forgot. You're Autobots. You wouldn't know."

    Rodimus scowled. "Wouldn't know what?"

    Rampage was still laughing, shaking his head at his captors' bemusement. "Oh, this is so precious. You would think you'd have caught on by now, but you still don't know. I can't believe this! Ha ha!"

    His scowl twisting further with anger, Rodimus grabbed Rampage by the shoulders and pushed him back violently. "What are you talking about? What don't we know?"

    Still chuckling, Rampage met his gaze with fierce green optics. "They're called Decepticons for a reason," he said in a low voice. "It's in their name. It's in their motto."

    "What do the Decepticons have to do with any of--" Rodimus suddenly stopped and he moved away from Rampage, the realization slowly dawning on him. "Where were you transferred to?" he asked quietly.

    Rampage bore his fangs in an approximation of a grin. "A little place called Outpost Two."

    "Scrap," Drift muttered while Rodimus turned to Minimus, knowing they were both thinking the same thing.

    "Prowl."

--The Acheron--

    "Where are you taking me?"

    It had only been the second time Cyclonus had asked that question. Like the previous time, Scourge did not answer, keeping his eyes glued to the tunnel of hyperspace before them.

    Cyclonus frowned, narrowing his optics. "Why can't you tell me now? Must it wait until we reach our destination?"

    "Yes," Scourge said. "Only then will you understand."

    Cyclonus glowered at him but did not press the matter further. He knew his former comrade well enough to not pester him. Quiet as he was, Scourge was just as deadly as the rest of the Heralds.

    Well, maybe with one exception....

    "So!" Sideways said, popping up behind Cyclonus' seat. "Those Autobot friends of yours... how well do you get along with them? Do you actually get along with them or are you just along for the ride?"

    "Of course he doesn't get along with them," Scourge scoffed. "They're Autobots. Our sworn enemies. Isn't that right, Cyclonus?"

    Cyclonus said nothing.

    Sideways tilted her head. "Ah, the sound of silence can speak volumes. I'm thinking our friend here has gone soft."

    Scourge glanced at Cyclonus. "Wait. You're not actually friends with any of them, are you?"

    "No," Cyclonus said softly.

    "Ah, good." Scourge chuckled. "You had me worried there for a second."

    "Yeah," Sideways said, optics narrowed as she leaned forward. "We wouldn't want that, would we?"

    Cyclonus remained silent for the rest of the journey. He did not know how much time had passed when they finally came out of hyperspace, but it had felt like eons. As the Acheron emerged into realspace, it began to approach a large planet blanketed with dark clouds.

    "Where are we?" Cyclonus murmured, considering it now safe to ask.

    "Nimbus Five," Scourge replied.

    He brought the ship into the planet's atmosphere, cutting through the thick gray clouds, before coming out into a landless opening. There, suspended in the air, was a massive monolith. Diamond-shaped and riddled with defenses, it bore a symbol on the front; a symbol Cyclonus never thought he would see again....

    "Welcome, Cyclonus," Scourge said with a grin, bringing the ship towards the monolith, "to the Floating Fortress."

--The Lost Light--

    "He's here! He's here!"

    "Ariel, wait!" Skids ran after the small gray Autobot, doing his best to avoid bumping into anyone in the corridor. Due to her smaller frame, Ariel had an easier time ducking under other bots while Skids had to pushed his way past.

    As he turned a corner, he saw Ariel make a dash for Ultra Magnus' office, from which Rodimus and Minimus Ambus were leaving. The two commanders saw Ariel approach and stopped her from getting to the door.

    "Whoa now," Rodimus said. "What's going on here? What's got you in a--"

    "He's in there!" Ariel cried, pointing to the door. "I need to see him!"

    Rodimus frowned. "See who? You're not talking about... please tell me you don't mean--"

    At that moment, Rung came from around the corner behind Skids, running frantically over to them.

    "Don't let her in there!" he yelled. "Whatever you do, don't let her near him!"

    "Okay, what's going on here?" Rodimus asked, visibly annoyed. "How do you even know we have someone in there? Does news really travel that fast?"

    "It's Protoform X," Rung said. "I'm right, aren't I?"

    "Wait, you mean the serial killer?" Skids questioned. "The guy responsible for the Colony Omicron massacre? What's he doing here?"

    Rodimus kept his optics on Rung. "How did you know?"

    "He and Ariel have a history," Rung replied. "She encountered him over seven hundred years ago when her team were investigating the ruins of Ferromax."

    "And she wants to see him again?" Minimus looked over at Ariel. "Why?" he asked her.

    "Because he's my friend," she said, her eyes wide and innocent.

    "Murderers don't have friends," Rodimus muttered. "Just people they haven't killed yet."

    "He was nice to me! Nicer than anyone else ever has!"

    "I find that very hard to believe."

    "What's going on out here?" The door to Magnus' office opened, revealing Drift and Protoform X inside. "I thought you were going to call--"

    Without warning, Ariel dashed into the room, shoving Drift aside. She ran over to Rampage, who had a steel beam tied around him. She immediately started to untie the piece of metal, displaying an unexpected feat of strength.

    "Someone stop her!" Rodimus cried, but it was already too late. Rampage was on his feet, freed from his confinement. He turned towards Ariel, green optics glowing. Then, he grabbed her by the arm and...

    ...pulled her into a hug.

    "I'm here, sister," he said softly. "I promise I'll never leave you again."

    Ariel said nothing, simply hugging back the larger red bot.

    Looking on in shock, Rodimus slowly turned his head to Rung. "Did you... know about this?"

    "No," Rung murmured. "No, I didn't."

    The five Autobots continued to stand in silence as they witnessed this reunion. The moment was soon brought to a halt however when Rodimus' comm rang.

    "What is it?" he answered.

    "Red Alert here. We've just finished transporting the protoforms off X's ship and, uh...."

    "What? Talk to me, Red."

    "There's a Decepticon bolted to the ceiling."

    Rodimus and the others all looked at Rampage, who broke off the hug to shrug.

    "What?" he said. "At least I didn't kill him."

    "There's also a headless corpse in here too," Red Alert said over the comm.

    Rampage chuckled as the five Autobots all glared at him. "Hey, considering I'd been imprisoned for over two hundred years, that's remarkably tame of me."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars II, Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

--The Longbow, 716 years ago--

    "Ring, are you sure these case notes are accurate?"

    "They should be," Rung said, cleaning his spectacles. "Why?"

    Kaput frowned as he studied the datapad in his hands. "It says here Ariel was constructed cold."

    "Yes...?"

    "But her city of origin is listed as Sistex. As far as I know, Sistex doesn't have any con facilities. Its delegation is highly religious and against the practice of cold construction."

    Rung motioned at Kaput and the yellow Autobot wheeled over to him. "Do you remember where you got this info?" Kaput asked as he handed Rung the datapad.

    "I got it from her commanding officer on the Azusa," Rung replied. "I don't see why he would give me false information."

    "Maybe he got it from someone else," Kaput suggested. "Or maybe he was trying to hide something."

    Rung scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for this." He rose from his seat. "I'll go speak with the captain. Maybe she can help sort this out."

    "Do you know who Ariel's drill sergeant was at the academy?" Kaput asked as he followed Rung out of his office.

    Rung glanced down at the datapad. "Hm. I forgot to put that down. I believe her commander said it was someone named... Browbeat? Yes, General Browbeat."

    Kaput's pace slackened slightly. "And when was the incident at Omnihelix?"

    "Seven years ago." Rung glanced at him. "Where are you going with this?"

    "Seven years ago?" Kaput frowned. "Rang... General Browbeat defected to the Decepticons long before then. He hasn't taught at Omnihelix in fifteen years."

--The Lost Light, now--

    "I swear to Primus... I just get back to the ship and we're already dealing with 'Cons again," Rodimus groused as he stepped onto the bridge, Minimus right behind him.

    "If it's any comfort, they don't look hostile," Blaster said. "They're hailing us. Should I put them on?"

    Rodimus glanced at Minimus, who simply shrugged. "Your call."

    After a moment's thought, Rodimus revved slightly as he turned back to Blaster. "Put them on."

    Blaster complied and the viewscreen was filled by the monstrous visage of a red-orange bot with wicked green optics.

    All on the bridge recoiled at the sight of the bot. Rodimus' mouth fell open in shock. "Is that...?"

    "It can't be," Minimus murmured. "Protoform X?"

    "I no longer answer to that name," the infamous murderer growled. "It is the label given to me by my progenitors, whom I have long since forsaken. Know that my name is Rampage, and that if you do not accept my request to board your vessel--"

    "Put him on mute," Rodimus ordered.

    As the viewscreen's audio went silent, Rodimus turned to Minimus. "What's the deal here? I thought X was supposed to be in jail."

    "He was," Minimus said grimly. "He was sent to Garrus-13 after the Wreckers captured him at Pinea Omicron. I don't know how he could have gotten loose."

    "Do you know who's in command of Garrus-13? Could we possibly get in contact with them?"

    Before Minimus could reply, Blaster spoke up. "Um, captain? I think X is trying to say something."

    Rodimus and Minimus turned to see that X had stepped to the side, revealing a row of stasis pods behind him, each one containing featureless gray body frames.

    "Those are protoforms," Minimus said.

    Mouth hanging open, Rodimus motioned Blaster to unmute the audio feed. "Okay," he said to Rampage, who came back into view. "You've got out attention. What do you want?"

    "I seek a safe haven for these protoforms," Rampage said. "They have spent too long in the despicable hell I have saved them from. They deserve better. We all deserve better in this calamitous life--"

    "Okay, okay. We'll let you on board. Just... don't try anything funny."

    "There is no humor in salvation--"

    "Yeah. Got it." Rodimus had Blaster end the call before raising Red Alert on his comm. "Red, we have a visitor in hangar twelve. Take as many bots as you can. I'll be there shortly."

    Turning to leave the bridge, Rodimus glanced at Minimus. "So. Garrus-13."

    "It's been so long since I was last there," Minimus replied as he followed Rodimus. "I only met the warden once, so his name escapes me."

    "Do you remember where it was located?"

    "It was somewhere in the Nimbus system. Nimbus Four, I believe. Or maybe Nimbus Five."

    Rodimus raised an optic ridge. "I would think someone like you have a more retentive memory."

    "I know, and I apologize. It's just... it's all on the tip of my tongue...."

--The Longbow, 716 years ago--

    "We've cleared the asteroid field, captain. We should be reaching the Nimbus system in no time."

    "Glad to hear it," Hydra said, standing on the bridge of the Longbow. It had been a long journey, with quite a few close calls. But at long last, they would finally be reaching their destination. She was in long need for some rest.

    Hearing the door behind her open, she turned to see a lanky red and black enter the bridge, his needle-like fingers splayed out.

    "Well?" Hydra asked. "Is it done?"

    "Yes," Vampire replied. "The procedure was a success."

    "Good. That just leaves--"

    "Captain?" From behind Vampire came a small orange bot, followed closely by his mono-wheeled comrade. "I need to speak with you."

    Hydra frowned as Rung walked up to her, datapad in hand. She glanced briefly at Vampire, who simply nodded in return.

    "What is it, Wrung?" she asked the psychiatrist.

    "Kaput and I were reviewing my case notes for Ariel--"

    "Ariel?"

    "The young one Nightbeat found at Ferromax. Remember?"

    "Oh. Right. The monoformer. Yes, I remember."

    "Right...." Rung cleared his throat. "Anyway, I couldn't help but notice a few major discrepancies."

    "Such as?" Hydra asked, glancing again at Vampire. The spindly bot was already moving over to Kaput.

    "For one thing, I was told her teacher at the academy was General Browbeat. But Kaput tells me that Browbeat joined the Decepticons ten years ago."

    "Did he now?" Hydra pretended to look deep in thought while Vampire did the deed. She then looked over at Kaput and asked, "Did you tell him that, Kaput?"

    "Huh?" Kaput rubbed the back of his neck, looking confused. "Tell him what?"

    "That General Browbeat defected to the Decepticons ten years ago."

    "I... don't remember ever saying as much."

    Rung looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "You just did! You asked me who Ariel's drill sergeant was and I said--"

    "Rung." Hydra grabbed the doctor by the shoulders, prompting him to look at her. "Relax. Just look at me."

    Rung arched an eyebrow. "I don't need--"

    "Just look at me."

    Rung did as instructed, although he opened his mouth to speak again. However, whatever he was going to say died in his throat as Vampire pulled out his needle-fingers from his neck.

    "What were you going to say, Rung?" Hydra asked, smiling sweetly.

    "I... wasn't going to say anything," Rung murmured, his face a rictus of confusion.

    "Very well." She let go of his shoulders. "We'll be reaching Nimbus soon. You and Kaput better pack your things."

    "Right," Rung said, leaving the bridge with Kaput. "Wouldn't want to forget that."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars II, Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

--Outpost Three--

    Cyclonus had been silent for the entire journey from his former cell to the hangar bay of Outpost Three. Jhiaxus had not spoken much either, while Sideways seemed to have nothing better to do.

    "Wait until you see our ship," the small femme said, walking besides Cyclonus as they followed Jhiaxus. "We haven't decided on a name for it yet. Straxus likes to call it the Acheron, but I think that name blows. I myself am partial to Black Death Wing. Or Murder Boat. Or maybe Black Death Murder Boat Wing."

    Jhiaxus glared at her. "We are not calling it any of those things."

    "Well, okay, dad," Sideways drawled. "I guess we'll call it Acheron, just to make Straxus happy. Like he's done anything for us. He's not even with us--"

    "He and Grindcore are currently preoccupied. We shall be joining them again shortly."

    Sideways simply huffed, crossing her arms. The three eventually reached the hangar which held the ship in question: an angular, claw-shaped Terror Crasher-class craft. Scourge stood beside it, along with a green and gold Decepticon who was looking rather perturbed.

    "You can't leave already!" the winged 'Con was saying. "We haven't even made a test run yet!"

    "Was the successful combination sequence not a satisfactory test run?" Scourge asked, an optic raised.

    "I meant a test run for the combiner itself. We've gotten them to merge, but we haven't put the gestalt in any combat runs or--"

    "I trust the notes Jhiaxus has left for you will compensate, Fractyl. You can not expect us to handle all of your menials tasks. We are simply here to move things along."

    Fractyl opened his mouth to protest but stopped when he noticed Jhiaxus and the others approaching. He briefly met the old scientist's gaze before shuffling away.

    "Right. Understood. I'll... inform Mother of your departure."

    "You do that." While Fractyl trodded off, Scourge turned to greet his fellow Heralds, smiling at Cyclonus. "Ah, I'm glad to see the operation was a success."

    "Indeed," Jhiaxus replied. "I take it we are done here?"

    Before Scourge could answer, Cyclonus pushed past the scientist and stormed up to his former comrade. "What is going on here, Scourge?" the purple warrior growled. "What have you done to me?"

    "We have improved you," Scourge said evenly. "Made you stronger, more powerful."

    Cyclonus scowled. "But why? To what end?"

    "Come with us and we will show you."

    Cyclonus opened his mouth to protest but Scourge was already heading up the ship's ramp. Jhiaxus followed suit while Sideways nudged Cyclonus forward.

    "Come on, horn head. You're going on this road trip whether you like it or not."

    Resisting every urge to mutilate the smaller Herald, Cyclonus simply frowned as he boarded the ship.

--The Lost Light--

    "I don't understand," Tailgate said as he and Glyph were led into Rung's office, along with Crosscut and a petrified Swerve. "What did we do wrong?"

    Rung sighed as he pushed his spectacles up his nose, sitting in his office chair. "What were the two of you doing in Ammo's hab suite?"

    "We were just watching a movie! He said it was okay and that we could borrow his collection--"

    "What movie was it?" Rung asked. "Because I haven't seen Swerve this quiet since the D.J.D. incident."

    "It was... it was...." Tailgate looked over at Glyph, who sat with her arms crossed. "What was it called again?"

    Glyph sighed, closing her optics. "It was just some documentary. It wasn't an actual film or... whatever."

    "A documentary on what?" Rung asked.

    Glyph hesitated. "Humans."

    "Humans?" Skids looked over quizzically at Swerve. "That's what scared you? You watch movies with humans all the time."

    Swerve shook his head. "None like this," he said quietly. "These humans were... doing things."

    "Like what, mutilation? You got through those Saw movies just fine."

    "No, this was different. These humans were... were...."

    "Okay!" Glyph threw up her arms. "It was a film on human biology! That's all it was!"

    Skids, Rung, and Crosscut all looked at her in bewilderment. "Why were you watching that?" Skids asked.

    Glyph shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Tailgate awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. "Well, see," the minibot started. "Glyph was talking about how sparks are made--"

    "Sparks are not made like eggs, I can tell you that much," Crosscut muttered.

    "Let me finish. And she said that, since the hot spots have all gone dry and the caches of frozen sparks have all been used up, we have to come up with a new method of creating sparks."

    "And you thought you could garner that from a film on human biology?" Skids questioned.

    "It was just part of my study," Glyph said. "We've been watching countless videos of the sort -- Skuxxoid, Magisterian, even Miliarian -- just to see if there was any way for our race to produce more should Vector Sigma ever shut down for good."

    "I'm sure if there was, someone would have discovered it by now," Rung said. "If it's any comfort, I once knew someone who had the same concerns."

    Glyph looked up at him. "You did?"

    Rung nodded. "His name was Deluge, a renown member of the Science Division. He had a great interest in Point One Percenters and had tried creating one of his own. He tried several different techniques, from spark splicing to spark merging, to no avail. Last I saw him, he had moved on to recreating mechanimals."

    Skids frowned. "Is this the same Deluge responsible for the Driller infestation in Cycle 9311?"

    Rung thought for a moment. "Was that him? I always thought it had been Shockwave who was behind that."

    "Well, he was the one who gave the order to unleash the worms, but I'm pretty sure Deluge was the one who modified them to carry troops and stuff."

    Glyph rolled her eyes. "Great. I feel so much better now."

    "My apologies," Rung said. "What I'm trying to say is that, while I understand your concerns, there simply is no other way to create sparks beyond the normal methods."

    Glyph slowly nodded, sighing. "I understand," she murmured.

    Frowning, Tailgate reached out to take her hand. She did not reciprocate however, keeping her arms folded.

    Clearing his throat, Crosscut said, "So are we done here? I'm thinking we should take Swerve to see Ratchet--"

    "No, I'm fine," Swerve said, hobbling to his feet. "I just... need a breather after seeing... that."

    "Why did you barge in on us anyway?" Tailgate asked.

    "I was just wondering where you'd went. I was hoping you'd show up to my Grand Reopening."

    "Oh!" Tailgate shot to his feet. "I totally forgot! I'm sorry, Swerve, I didn't know--"

    "Hey, don't worry about it." Swerve grinned. "It's never too late to join in. All drinks are on the house."

    "Great!" Tailgate looked over at Glyph. "Wanna go?"

    "Sure," Glyph muttered, rising up. "I guess."

    "Awesome! Let's go!"

    With that, the three minibots quickly exited the room. Crosscut followed them after a quick farewell and apology to Rung. Soon, only the psychiatrist and his two friends remained.

    "Well!" Skids said as he closed the door. "That was... something."

    Rung nodded in agreement before turning to Ariel, who had been silent throughout the whole thing. The gray and teal femme was sitting by the window, playing with the Ark I model as she stared out into space.

    "Are you doing all right?" Rung asked, stepping over to her.

    She nodded, not taking her eyes off the stars. "Just waiting."

    "Waiting for what?"

    "Him."

    Rung frowned in confusion, exchanging a look with Skids. "Who's 'him?'"

    She said nothing, instead beginning to hum to herself.

    Seconds later, a Decepticon ship appeared in the window.

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars II, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

    Cyclonus groaned as his mind emerged from darkness. His optical sensors took a longer time than usual to focus. His entire body felt felt numb to the very nerve circuit.

    Where he was, he couldn't tell. He was being held in a small dark room, restrained to some sort of overhanging contraption. A single light shone over him, although it illuminated very little.

    As he shook his head to rouse himself further, his vision cleared enough for him to see the figure standing before him. The robot had a lithe, slender frame, with a black and yellow color scheme and kibble indicating a motorcycle alt mode. Her yellow optics narrowed upon noticing the now-conscious Cyclonus and she lifted a hand to her comm.

    "Hey, Scourge. He's awake now."

    "Finally," came a familiar voice. "I'll send Jhiaxus at once."

    "Oh, take your time," Sideways said, a devious grin emerging on her face. "I don't mind keeping him company."

    Ending the call, she then strode up to the restrained Cyclonus, her expression halfway between a sneer and a grin.

    "Welcome home, bunny ears. We've all missed you."

    "Where am I?" Cyclonus growled.

    Sideways ignored him. "You know, things just haven't been the same without you. We miss the surliness, the evil glaring, the Galvatron-butt-kissing...." She then snapped her fingers. "Oh! But wait! Galvatron is dead! Such a tragic loss. How are you coping with that?"

    Cyclonus said nothing. Responding in any way would simply encourage her to keep at it. Not that it would stop her of course.

    "Ah, don't worry," Sideways went on. "He'll always live on in your spark. Anyway, you're probably thinking to yourself: 'Sideways, why are you female all of a sudden? Last I saw you, you were male.' Well, last you saw me, I was also dead. So hooray for reincarnation! I never know what I'll be reborn as. Personally, I'm hoping for an assault tank next time. I've already been a motorcycle twice already..."

    Cyclonus maintained his vow of silence. Sideways' expression fell slightly, realizing she wasn't getting her intended reaction.

    "Boy, you're a tough nut to crack," she murmured. "You know, I've always wondered what it was Scourge saw in you. He was the only one of us to vouch for your retrieval. The rest of us could have easily done without you."

    Remiss as he was to do so, Cyclonus couldn't help but lift an optic ridge at that. Sideways immediately noticed this and grinned wickedly.

    "Yes, very curious, isn't it? To be honest, I've always wondered if there was more to your relationship beyond just mere camaraderie--"

    "I do hope you're doing nothing to enrage our guest, Sideways."

    Sideways turned around to see a hunched-over orange mech enter the room, walking towards her and Cyclonus. "Of course not, Jhiaxus," she said with faux innocence. "We were just having a friendly chat."

    Jhiaxus simply grunted as he walked up to Cyclonus, moving behind the restrained ex-Herald. Cyclonus couldn't see what the scientist was doing, but before he knew, he was suddenly freed from the harness and was on his feet again. Without thinking, he seized Sideways by the throat and hurled her across the room, sending her crashing into the door.

    Surprised by this unexpected increase in strength, Cyclonus looked down at himself and saw that his frame was significantly larger than he remembered it being.

    "What... have you done to me?"

    "We have modified your body to meet the requirements for our plan," Jhiaxus replied, matter-of-fact as always.

    "Your plan?" Cyclonus asked. "What are you talking about?"

    "Save your questions for Scourge," Jhiaxus said, pushing him towards the door, where Sideways had already recovered. "He'll fill you in on everything you need to know."

    Cyclonus scowled. "Look, I've already told him: I don't want any part in this--"

    "It's too late. Scourge has already made the decision for you. There is no turning back now."

    Sideways flashed a sly grin at Cyclonus as the three of them exited the room, clearly not minding the newly made dent in her head. "Seems clear to me who wears the lower plates in this relationship."

    "I am going to kill you," Cyclonus growled.

    "Good. Maybe then I can get that tank body I've always wanted."

--Outpost One--

    "Wow," Rodimus said, staring at all of the data displayed on the large screen before him. "Tarantulas is really bad at hiding his files."

    "I wouldn't underestimate him too much," Prowl muttered, standing next to him along with Springer and Minimus Ambus. "I think I was just lucky in breaching his firewalls, since I had known him for so long."

    "So what are we looking at here?" Minimus asked, gesturing at the screen.

    "It's a complete record of all the experiments Tarantulas had undertaken here," Prowl explained. "Everything from Chimeracon technology to his work in the Noisemaze. It also has all of his communications to the other 'Outposts,' which there are at least three others of."

    "We've already been to Outpost Two," Springer said. "I don't believe we left much worth returning to."

    "And I believe Quickshadow and Brainstorm have been to Outpost Four," Minimus said. "That base appears to be the central station, seeing as it's since moved to New Kaon."

    "That just leaves Outpost Three," Rodimus said. "Do we have anything on that?"

    Prowl rubbed his chin. "I did send an operative of mine to investigate the Secret Order's activities there, but I have yet to hear back. Seeing how Quickshadow and... Ricochet are already accounted for, I'm beginning to worry that something's befallen him."

    "Is there any indication on its location?"

    Prowl studied the scrawl of text on screen. "It appears to be on a planet designated Sol Four."

    "That doesn't ring any bells," Minimus murmured. "Is there a Sol system?"

    Prowl brought up a navigation chart and input a search for the system. When the results came up, his optics widened.

    "No," he murmured. 

    "What is it?" Rodimus asked.

    "Sol Four... it's in the same system as Earth." Prowl turned around to face the others, who all bore shocked expressions. "They're on Mars."

--Lost Light--

    "Tailgate? Glyph? Are you in there?"

    No response came from the door to Glyph's hab suite. Swerve rang the bell again, knocked a few times, called out their names... still nothing.

    Standing behind him, Crosscut sighed. "Look, either they're not here or they don't want to be bothered. Can we just--"

    "Maybe they're at his hab suite," Swerve said, already hurrying back down the corridor. "It's not far from here."

    Rolling his optics, Crosscut trod after the Minibot, not even bothering to keep up. As he turned the corner Swerve had gone down, he saw Ammo walking in the opposite direction, lugging a box of tools.

    "Oh, hey, Crosscut," the blue monoformer said. "What's gotten Swerve in a frenzy?"

    "He's trying to find Tailgate," Crosscut muttered.

    "Tailgate? Oh, he and Glyph are at my suite."

    Crosscut blinked, looking at Ammo in bemusement. "Your suite? Why?"

    "They were looking to watch some Earth flicks. I had some lying around that Bluestreak had lent me, so... yeah. You can find them there. It's just a few doors past Rung's office."

    Before Crosscut could say anything, Swerve drove past the both of them, speeding towards the turbolift. Exhaling loudly, Crosscut morphed to his alt mode and went after the Minibot.

*  *  *

    "Easy does it...."

    Rung bit his lip as he carefully adjusted the precariously tiny fin on the model ship. Sitting across from him, Ariel was also deep in concentration, coming close to finishing her own model. Skids sat in between them both, holding a stopwatch.

    The minutes ticked by like hours. Once he was finally pleased with the fin's placement, he reached for the final piece--

    "Yes!"

    Startled, Rung looked up to see Ariel standing in triumph, proudly presenting the finished model of the Ark I. Skids stopped the watch and whistled at the final time.

    "11.3 minutes. That's a new record."

    Rung smiled as he set down his unfinished Longbow model. "Well done. And here I thought I knew these models like the back of my hand."

    "How many times have you reassembled them?" Skids asked.

    "Far too many times to count."

    "You know, Que's been working on a subspace hatch to install in the medbay. Once he's done, you can put in a request for new models to be sent in."

    Rung shook his head. "Thank you, Skids, but I only collect ships that I've served on."

    "Really?" Skids glanced at the Ark I model Ariel was holding. "You served on the Ark?"

    "I was recalled at the last minute. The High Council needed my services for--"

    He was cut off by a loud screech coming from outside. Skids immediately got to his feet and walked over to the door. As soon as he opened it, there was a loud scream and Swerve went running past. Moments later, Crosscut emerged from around the corner and met Skids' eyes.

    "I take it there's a reasonable explanation for this," Skids said.

    Crosscut shook his head. "Not really, no."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars II, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

--The Lost Light--

    It felt so good to be back.

    Standing behind the counter, mixing drinks... it just felt so... right. As if balance had finally been restored the universe. All was well.

    Swerve wasn't sure how it happened, but he now had a bouncer as well. Apparently Huffer had found the deactivated Legislator he had stashed away (and completely forgotten about) and got it working again. Thankfully, it was no longer trying to kill everyone -- although it did seem overly fond of saying the number "Ten".

    Since he had a bouncer now, he had also decided to go all the way and put up a set of rules at the entrance of the bar: No guns, no swords, and no briefcases. The last one was probably in bad taste, but he was sure Brainstorm could take a joke. It wasn't like he was a regular anyway.

    But besides all that, the thing that made Swerve most happiest of all was seeing a full house. All of the booths were filled up, all of the seats were taken, he was constantly running back and forth to take orders, deliver refills and scare Clutch out... it was amazing.

    "Well, someone's looking chipper today."

    Swerve looked up to see a silver and red mech seat himself at the counter. "Hey, Crosscut!" he greeted. "I thought you'd be working on your play."

    "I would if my actors hadn't all been here," Crosscut grumbled. "One quart of Big Bad, please."

    "Coming right up." As Swerve started fixing the drink, he gave Crosscut a sidelong glance. "Say, you haven't seen Tailgate have you?"

    "No. Why?"

    "I haven't seen him in forever. I was hoping he would come to the Grand Reopening."

    "He's probably with his grillfriend," Crosscut said. "Or is it pronounced gearfriend? Gallfriend?"

    Swerve grunted to himself, shaking his head. "Of course. Should have known."

    "Gullfriend?"

    "I mean, what's the deal with those two?" Swerve went on, shaking the energon he was preparing. "If they're Cojunx Endura, fine, whatever, nothing wrong with that. But even Rewind and Chromedome don't lock themselves in their hab suite for hours on end."

    "Uh-huh. Try not to shake it up too much."

    "Like, who even does that? The only kinds of people I know who do that are...." Swerve suddenly froze, his jaw hanging open. "Oh no."

    "What?" Crosscut asked.

    "You don't think...? Oh god."

    "What? What am I supposed to be not thinking?"

    The bartender turned to fully face the playwright. "Okay, you know that most organics tend to make their own kind, right? They're not born from the ground like we are."

    "You're referring to biological reproduction."

    "Is that the proper term?" Swerve asked. "'Cause I've heard other words--"

    "Don't believe everything in those 'films' Bluestreak shows you," Crosscut said, a hint of distaste in his voice.

    "Right. But even in those films... they like to touch each other a lot. Like, lots of touching. To the point where they're almost wrestling, except without the energon spilling and the limb tearing, and Grimlock's not performing his super-awesome Dyno-Slam maneuver on Stranglehold--"

    Crosscut rubbed the bridge of his note. "Get to the point, Swerve."

    "But we don't do that! When we touch one another, it's more of a gesture and not... nothing more than that. But with these two...."

    "Have you seen them... do anything?"

    "No." Swerve thought for a moment. "Well, I have seen them bump faceplates. I guess that's supposed to be kissing...."

    "But why?" Crosscut asked. "Why would they be doing that sort of thing?"

    "Glyph is an archaeometrist. She's obsessed with studying alien cultures and biology. She'd be the first to tell you how Nebulans or humans or Torkuli express their... attraction. And now I think she's reenacting that with Tailgate."

    "Okay." Crosscut tapped his fingers on the counter. "Well, there you go. Mystery solved. Are you done with my drink yet?"

    Swerve didn't answer him immediately. Instead, he set the bottle down and turned over to Bluestreak, who was helping him manage the bar. 

    "Hey, Blue! I'm gonna be gone for a bit. Hold down the fort for me, will ya?"

    "Sure thing, pal."

    With that, Swerve emerged from behind the counter, grabbing Crosscut by the arm. "Come on."

    "Hey! What do you think you're--"

    "We're gonna get to the bottom of this, once and for all."

    "You're joking, right?" Crosscut asked as he unwillingly followed Swerve out of the bar. "Because if you're planning on what I think you're planning, then this is a gross invasion of privacy."

    "Maybe so. But if it means stopping my friend from getting into something he knows zero.... then so be it."

*  *  *

    "You're out of your armor."

    Minimus Ambus looked confused as he entered Rodimus' office. He quickly caught the captain's meaning. "Ah, yes. I found it was too large to traverse the ship in. It's in my quarters in alt mode right now."

    "Mm." Rodimus did not look up from his desk, idly carving its surface with a small dagger.

    Minimus waited a moment before speaking again. "Where's Prowl?"

    "Back down on Outpost One, trying to sort things out with his 'Secret Service.' Apparently Tarantulas had hacked into their computers and impersonated him, redirecting signals from their base to his own."

    "I see. And the clones? Did you glean anything from talking with them?"

    "Not much," Rodimus muttered. "Only that they came from someplace called Outpost Two. Prowl told me that the Wreckers had already been by there -- that's how they picked up Convoy -- and that the 'Cons had already erased most of their files."

    "That's unfortunate." Minimus fell silent again, the only sound being the scraping of Rodimus' blade. Tugging at the end of his mustache, Ambus then said, "So where to now?"

    Rodimus said nothing.

    "There's still the matter of Cyclonus...."

    "I know," Rodimus said. "But I have no idea where to even begin looking. He could've been taken anywhere in the galaxy."

    "Perhaps we could ask Prowl if Outpost One has any data on its sister bases," Minimus suggested. "We could start by looking there."

    "I guess."

    Minimus frowned. "There's something else bothering you, isn't there?"

    Rodimus' shoulders sagged. "I just feel that I've let everyone on this quest down. First Garrus-16, then Caminus, then Carcer and the clone invasion, and now Outpost One... it just feels like we aren't making any progress in finding the Knights of Cybertron and are just losing crew members left and right."

    Minimus sighed. "I understand how you feel. Commanding such a large crew is a major responsibility, especially for some one without much experience."

    "Right," Rodimus murmured, shoulders hunched as he continued his carving.

    "That said," Minimus went on, "I must admit that you've done a remarkable job for someone as new to the job as you."

    Rodimus looked up at him, a surprised expression on his face. "Really?"

    Minimus nodded. "You are willing to put the lives of your crew before your own goals and will go through fire and hail to save them. Reckless and brash as your actions may be... your determination and passion behind them are remarkable in and of themselves. Optimus Prime would be proud."

    "You think so?"

    Minimus allowed himself a small smile. "I know it for a fact."

    Rodimus smiled back just as a light started blinking on his desk. Leaning over, he pressed the comm button. "Captain speaking. What is it?"

    "Blaster, here. Prowl needs you come back down to the moon, asap."

    "Did he say why?"

    "He just said that he had found something juicy in Tarantulas' computers."

    "Okay. Tell him I'll be on my way." Ending the call, Rodimus rose from his seat. "Looks like we've found our leads after all," he said with a smirk to Minimus.

    "...Prowl doesn't say 'juicy,'" Minimus said, frowning.

    "I'm sure that's just Blaster paraphrasing."

    "Right. Of course." Minimus continued to frown even as he followed Rodimus out of the room. He just couldn't help but wonder what exactly Tarantulas had subjected Prowl to in all that time....

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars II, Prologue

PROLOGUE

--Outpost Two--

    "Please tell me that's the last one."

    "You tell me," Oil Slick snapped as he secured the protoform capsule onto the ship. "This was your brain child, not mine. How many protoforms did you have on this station?"

    Magnificus said nothing, instead letting out an irritated sigh. If there was one thing in life he hated more than anything else was being reminded of failure. And Outpost Two -- or what was left of it -- was nothing but one huge reminder.

    Of course, that was the whole point, wasn't it? That was why Tarantulas had sent him back after freeing him from the Wreckers rather than keep him around at Outpost One. This was the spider's idea of a joke; his way of proving that he was the better scientist.

    And, loathe Magnificus was to admit it, maybe he was right. After all, Tarantulas wasn't the one with a base in shambles.

    "Did you at least clear out the room these are from?" Magnificus finally asked, gesturing to the protoforms already on the ship.

    Oil Slick huffed. "Yes, it's all clear. I haven't checked Vivisector's lab though."

    "I thought he had already taken out the clones when the Troobians attacked?"

    "Well, all the finished clones, yeah. I don't know if he had any other spare protoforms though."

    Magnificus sniffed. "Forget it. We're already full as it is. We can always come back later."

    Oil Slick shuddered. "I don't ever want to come back to this place. Maybe it's because of the dead bodies everywhere, but I just get bad vibes from this hellhole."

    "Just get the ship ready for take off," Magnificus said, heading down the ramp.

    "Where are you going?" Oil Slick asked.

    "I'm just going to check on a few things. Stay here."

    Converting to his alt mode -- a black and silver half-track -- he drove out of the hangar and navigated the corpse-littered halls to the control room. Once there, he reverted back to robot mode and stepped over to the main control panel.

    When the Wreckers had stormed the room, he had panicked (yet another reason for him to delete certain subroutines) and had activated something that, in other circumstances, would have been very stupid to activated. But it had been his last resort.

    Of course, he had been knocked out by the Wreckers as soon as he had begun the initiation and then he had awoken at their base, the timer disabled. He just had to make sure everything was in its proper place. Once the protoforms had been delivered, he would return here and....

    His mind trailed off as the CCTV footage came up. It took a few seconds for his processor to register what his optics were seeing.

    The capsule was empty.

    He shook his head. No, that wasn't right. Perhaps he was looking at the wrong screen; Oil Slick had mentioned the clone Vivisector had escaping. It must have been that capsule he was seeing.

    ...Except that clone had been in Oil Slick's lab. The cameras were showing his own quarters. He even double, triple-checked. The capsule was still empty.

    He must be gone by now then, Magnificus thought. He would've taken one of the ships in the hanger and left with everyone else. What reason would he have to stay here? The only thing on the station that would have been of any worthy to him would have to be...

    Before he knew it, Magnificus was back in his alt mode, racing back to the ship. In spite of himself -- in spite of everything he stood for -- he started praying to Primus that Oil Slick had gotten the ship ready.

    When he got back to the hangar, the ship's thrusters were already on. Speeding up the ramp, Magnificus transformed and closed it behind him before dashing to the cockpit.

    "Oil Slick! Get us out of here! Get us--"

    But Oil Slick was not the one sitting in the pilot seat. Instead, a hulking red mech with purple accents sat crosslegged in the chair, tossing Oil Slick's severed head in his hands. As Magnificus stepped in, Protoform X turned his green optics to the Decepticon scientist and bared his hideous maw of razors.

    "I believe you're going... my way?"

    Magnificus could only scream as the ship departed from the hangar.

THE DOWNWARD SPIRAL

Part 2: To Please the Fools

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars I, Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

--Outpost One--

    This whole thing had been a bust.

    Thunderhoof wondered why he had even agreed to this whole thing in the first place. He could have just taken for the stars when he had the chance... but Gigatron was a very influential being. A Decepticon warlord? That was glory personified.

    Except it wasn't. The whole thing had been a major waste of time. It was time to throw in the towel.

    "Hurry up, you louse!" he barked to his mooks as they loaded up his (newly acquired) ship with anything worth loading. "I haven't got all day!"

    "Almost done, boss," replied Scowl, stepping down the ramp. "Just waiting on Clampdown with those energy rods."

    "Ah, forget about 'im!" Thunderhoof snapped, storming up the ship's ramp. "We have what we need. Let's just blow this joint and--"

    "Ahem. A moment of your time, Thunderhoof?"

    The blue elk-like Decepticon paused midstride, slowly turning around to see a steel-blue canine Decepticon standing before him. With him was that louse Clampdown, along with an assortment of other Decepticons.

    Thunderhoof sneered at the whole lot of them. "Steel Jaw. Long time no see."

    "Indeed, old friend," Steel Jaw replied, that trademark faux smile plastered on his face. "I've been meaning to chat with you since our freedom but... I've just been busy."

    "That right?" Thunderhoof snorted. "What do you want?"

    "Nothing... much. I was just hoping you could give us all a lift...."

    "You? After what happened at Pellechrome? Fat chance!"

    Steel Jaw tilted his head. "Are you sure? What if I made you an offer you couldn't refuse?"

    "And just what in the Pit could you offer me?"

    Steel Jaw smiled. "Tell me... have you ever been to Troja Major?"

    Thunderhoof stared at him, an optic raised. "Why? What's on Troja Major?"

    "Oh, nothing much. Only everything you could possibly imagine... and then some."

    Thunderhoof continued to stare at him... before slowly smiling. "I'm listenin'."

*  *  *

    This whole thing had been a failure.

    Watching from above as he hovered in his bat mode, Gigatron watched as the Autobot Ultra Magnus threw everything he had at Ragnarok. The large Decepticon was already showing signs of weariness; his defeat was all but a guarantee. And once he was down, the Autobot would be setting their sights on him next.

    There was no better time to leave than now.

    Shifting to his dragon mode, Gigatron set off to find and gather as many troops as he could before leaving. There would be another time for him to make his conquest; this time without being on Tarantulas' leash.

    He smiled to himself as he flew off. His time would be soon. One day, he would be in control of the Decepticons, as had been his dream since the days of Trannis. One day, he would rule.

    And nothing would stand in his way.

*  *  *

    "And... stay down!"

    Ultra Magnus punctuated this by landing one last punch onto Ragnarok's cranium. The Decepticon giant faltered for a moment before falling face-first onto the ground, kicking up clouds of dust.

    Stepping over the fallen Decepticon, Magnus pulled Ragnarok's arms behind his back and deployed a pair of stasis cuffs, which he latched onto the 'Con's servos. He then stepped away from the giant, dusting off his hands as he admired a job well done.

    It's good to be back.

    "Magnus! Love the new duds!"

    Ultra Magnus turned around to see Rodimus and the rest of his team approaching him, all admiring his newly armored form.

    "You can thank Brainstorm," he said. "I think this is his way of saying 'sorry.'"

    "It's certainly in his style," Chromedome remarked.

    "Oi." Whirl elbowed Rodimus and pointed up ahead. "Is it just me, or are those the blokes we came to rescue?"

    Ultra Magnus turned around to see seven mechs emerging from one of the moon's craters. It didn't take long for him to recognize them as Prowl and the Wreckers.

    "Well, that's certainly fortunate," he commented. He then frowned as he noticed an eighth bot come out right after them: one that bore a very familiar face.

    Rodimus seemed to have noticed this as well. "Is that...?"

    Magnus did not speak and waited until Prowl and the Wreckers had joined before addressing them. "I'm glad to see you've made it out okay."

    Prowl shook his head. "Not okay. We lost one of our own."

    "Oh. I'm sorry to--"

    "What are you doing here? How did you know we were here?"

    "They got my message," Ironfist said. "You did, didn't you? The datatrax?"

    Rodimus grinned. "We sure did. Very clever move you did there, sport."

    "So what's the story here?" Magnus asked. "How did you get captured? Who had you captured? What even is this place?"

    Prowl released a heavy sigh. "All of those questions require very long explanations. Right now... I think we're all due for some refueling and recovering."

    "For once we can agree on something," Rodimus said wryly. "I'll call Mainframe to bring the Lost Light in."

    "And what about big and ugly here?" Whirl asked, kicking the unconscious Ragnarok. "Is there even room on the ship for him or--"

    Without warning, Ragnarok's body erupted into a fiery explosion, sending all within its radius flying off their feet. At the same time, another explosion occurred elsewhere on the moon, although none bore witness to the replica of Ragnarok as it transformed and took for the stars.

--The Lost Light, later--

    "You're back."

    "Yup." Skids deactivated the bars to Archforce's cell but made no move to enter. "Come on. Up and at 'em."

    Archforce stared at him confusedly. "What...?"

    "Don't worry, I'm not walking you to your execution," Skids said. "There's someone I want you to meet."

    With some hesitation, Archforce get to his feet and followed Skids out of the brig. The Autobot led him through the ship to a room with very magenta walls and lots of flame decals. Archforce had to adjust his optics so he wouldn't get blinded.

    Seated at a desk was a red and orange Autobot. Standing next to him was a very grave-looking bot in white and black, and a large one in blue and black. There was something about the latter mech that struck Archforce as familiar... but what was it?

    "Take a seat, Archforce," Rodimus said, gesturing to a chair in front of him. "We have a lot to discuss."

TO BE CONTINUED