Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars V, Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

--201 years ago (Cycle 9614)--

    "You're upset."

    "Upset?!" Ultra Magnus slammed his hands down on Quickswitch's desk, glowering at the gold-faced mech. "Quickswitch, I am furious."

    "I can't imagine why," the Six Changer said wryly.

    "Forgive me, Quickswitch, but have you forgotten who's side you're on? What Skyfall did was treasonous. He's assisted the Decepticons in their Dark Energon experiments. I can't see how you can defend his actions."

    "I am not defending his actions," Quickswitch evenly replied. "I'm defending his motives. He's a very troubled mech, Ultra Magnus. I'm sure Rung's evaluations of him have made that clear."

    "Then he should be in an institution, not working at Kimia! Next you're going to tell me Megatron is a misunderstood individual who should be forgiven."

    "Well, I certainly know him better than you do," Quickswitch said, rising from his seat.

    Ultra Magnus frowned. "What are you talking about? I served with him in the Elite Guard for over six hundred years."

    "No, you didn't." Quickswitch smirked. "You were a mere manual worker before Tyrest approached you, Blockus."

    Ultra Magnus took a step back, his mouth agape. "How... how do you--"

    "You've had a good run, Blockus," Quickswitch went on, ignoring the stammering Magnus. He reached underneath his desk. "A hundred and fifty years is quite the record. It's a shame you couldn't last longer."

    In an instant, Ultra Magnus' armor disconnected and clattered to the floor, exposing the stout Blockus underneath. Behind him, the door opened and two large mechs entered, along with a shocked Skyfall.

    "Take Blockus here to be repurposed," Quickswitch said, sitting back down. "Don't mind the mess, Skyfall. Please, take a seat."

    Skyfall did as told, doing his best to ignore Blockus' screams as he was dragged away.

--Present--

    Skyfall emitted a quiet moan as he awoke from the memory. Finding himself laying on a medical berth, he craned his head to see a white and red femme operating on another patient. He made a noise, prompting the medic to look up.

    "Ah, you're awake." She moved over to him, walking on multiple spider-like legs. "How are you feeling?"

    "I... muh-my...." He ran a hand over his face, feeling only a visor instead.

    The medic smiled sadly. "It was the best I could do. I didn't exactly have any spare faces lying around."

    He spent a moment feeling his new "face" before looking back at the doctor. "Ob-Obsidian?"

    She frowned. "Obsidian's not here. We haven't seen him or Strike in nearly a month now." She tilted her head. "You're a Decepticon, aren't you?"

    Am I? At this point, Skyfall was no longer sure himself. Regardless, he nodded.

    "Well, I'm sorry you missed him. I hope it wasn't any thing of importance you needed from him."

    Skyfall shot up, grabbing the medic by the shoulders. "The Enigma! Where is it?"

    Her optics narrowed. "I'm sorry. What Enigma?"

    "The Enigma of Combination! Where is it? Is it here?"

    "I think you need to rest," she said, gently pushing him back down.

    "No! I need to get it to Obsidian! The mission! I must complete the--"

    A syringe went into his neck and he immediately plunged into darkness.

*  *  *

    "It's not really all that difficult," Tarn said, glancing at the seated Treadshot as he idly swirled his glass of engex. "You just need to tell me where Stormshot is."

    "I don't kn--" Treadshot started to say, only to be electrocuted by Kaon, whom he was constrained to.

    "Yes, you do," Tarn said, drinking the engex through the slits of his mask. "You came online at the same time as her, during the Battle of Hydrus Four. I mean, your name pretty much gives it away. The original Treadshot never was very creative with names."

    Kaon gave Treadshot another shock, prompting him to finally snap. "Okay! Okay! I do know Stormshot! But I haven't seen her since the Battle of Hydrus Four! I assumed she'd died!"

    "Not good enough." Tarn looked over to Helex, who was downing himself in large canisters of engex. "Any luck, Helex?"

    "Huh? Oh, scrap." Setting his beverage down, Helex opened his chest and pulled out the melted remains of Heavy Barrel. "Sorry. I forgot he was in there."

    Tarn shook his head in disapproval. "This is going on your record." Turning back to Treadshot, he said, "Last chance. Where is Stormshot?"

    "Go to hell."

    "Shame." Tarn gestured to Kaon, who made short work of his prisoner. The leader of the D.J.D. then walked over to the counter, setting down his glass before a frightened Gutcruncher.

    "Your clientele leaves much to be desired, Gutcruncher. So far this has turned out to be a disappointing trip."

    "Who called you here?" Gutcruncher asked. "What makes you think Stormshot is here?"

    "I truly wish I could answer that," Tarn replied. "Honestly? I'm not so sure myself. The call was anonymous. I had assumed it was someone here, but that does not appear to be the case."

    "So what are you going to do now?"

    Before Tarn could respond, he heard a voice call out his name.

    A familiar voice.

    A very familiar voice.

    "Tarn," it repeated.

    Slowly, the leader of the D.J.D. turned around. Standing there, in the entrance to the bar, was Megatron... supposedly. His appearance was different; plus, he was supposed to be dead. Meaning only one thing....

    "So." Tarn raised his fusion cannon at the clone of Megatron. "The impostor has come to impose his will. And to think we had just missed you on New Kaon."

    "I am no impostor, Tarn," Megatron said coolly. "I am not the clone."

    Tarn primed the cannon. "That's rich."

    "You have my word, Damus."

    Tarn's optics went wide. The other members of the D.J.D., as well as Gutcruncher, stared on in shock. Slowly, Tarn lowered his arm.

   "It was you," he murmured. "It was you who summoned us."

    "I did not summon you," Megatron replied.

    "Regardless... you're alive!" Tarn spread his arms. "The Decepticon dream lives on! With you at its head, our empire may rise from the ashes once more!"

    "No," Megatron said firmly. "The dream is dead. The Decepticons are over."

    Tarn blinked. "What?"

    "It's over, Tarn. The war is over. We lost. It's time we accepted our losses and move on with our lives."

    Lowering his arms, Tarn narrowed his eyes. "Please tell me you're joking."

    "Have I ever joked before, Damus?" Megatron stepped forward and placed a hand on the Decepticon's shoulder. "It's time to take off that mask. It's time to let things go."

    Tarn stepped at him for a moment, his read optics searching Megatron's face. Then, he lifted his hands... 

    ...And thew his fists into Megatron's face.

    The former Decepticon leader staggered back, wiping energon from his broken nasal structure. Tarn stood there, fists clenched, as his optics glowed furiously.

    "I should have known it was too good to be true!" he snarled. "You've done your research, clone. You thought you could use your knowledge to convince me of your... of your... blasphemy."

    Cocking his fusion cannon, he raised it at Megatron.

    "But you were wrong. Well, except for one thing...."

    The barrel of the cannon glowed.

    "Because it is over. For you, it's over."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars V, Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

--211 years ago (Cycle 9604)--

    "You don't seem comfortable, Krok."

    "Of course I don't feel comfortable, Treadshot!" Krok retorted, flexing his right arm. "This isn't me. This isn't... I'm used to being a monoformer."

    "Flatline did say it would take some getting used to," Treadshot said, watching his fellow Decepticon twist at the waist, where a new transformation joint had been added. "But we don't have time to exercise. Shockwave wants these M.T.O.s thawed out pronto."

    "Right, right," Krok grumbled. Inputting a command into the control panel, the door slid open and the two Decepticons walked into the supply room. Set up in rows before them were dozens of frozen sparks, with an equal amount of ready made bodies standing against the wall.

    "Does it matter which spark goes in which body?" Treadshot asked.

    "Why are you asking me?" Krok replied, walking over to the sparks.

    "I dunno, I just thought... since you're constructed cold, you would probably...."

    Krok sighed. "Just get to work."

    He pulled down a lever, which began the thawing process. Behind him, Treadshot disconnected one of the bodies from the wall. The frame was that of a flier, with a dark navy blue and crimson color scheme.

    Rubbing his chin, Treadshot asked, "Do we get to name them?"

    Krok thought for a moment. "Normally that's the commanding officer's job. However... I don't think Shockwave's going to care enough to do so. Heck, most of these guys are going to be dead within the hour."

    "All right, I'll name them then. This one will be... Stormshot."

    Krok rolled his optics as he extracted the first spark. "'Stormshot?' What, like Treadshot?"

    "No! He just... he just looks like a Stormshot."

    "How do you know it's a he?"

    "Because I said he is."

    "That's not...." Krok closed his optics and groaned as he turned around, inserting the spark into Stormshot's chest. "Forget it. Whatever they end up being, they'll probably be dead before dawn."

--Present--

    "Another Killmaster?"

    With all of his strength, Dion lifted his head up from the counter. Through fuzzy optics, he saw Gutcruncher standing there with a mug of glowing engex.

    "No thanks," Dion groaned, laying his head back down. "I'm plastered."

    "Consider me impressed," said a red and yellow mech sitting next to him. "I've never seen someone down five Killmasters in under twenty minutes."

    "Anything is possible when you screw up badly enough," Dion mumbled.

    "That's nothin'," grunted a bulky gray and yellow Decepticon to Dion's left. "Give me seven Murderkings and I'll still be as alert as a Gyronian Sentry."

    "Give me a break, Heavy Barrel," said the first Decepticon. "You're the bot who made a break for it the second Blitz was killed."

    Heavy Barrel got down from his seat, clenching his fists. "You callin' me weak, Treadshot?"

    "Well, I certainly wouldn't call you tough."

    Before Heavy Barrel could retort, the door to the bar swung open and a spindly black mech ran in.

    "Ah, great," Gutcruncher muttered, rolling his eyes. "Who died this time?"

    "They're here!" Skidmark exclaimed. "The D.J.D. are here!"

    Everything went silent. Dion groggily lifted his head, trying to comprehend what the 'Con had said.

    "I know a DJ Dee," he mumbled. "She can lay some sick beats...."

    "Okay," Gutcruncher said, trying to keep calm. "Let's... let's not get worked up. Unless any of us has done something to get themselves on the List, we should be okay."

    "We could all be on the List," Treadshot said. "Maybe living among Autobots on a pacifist planet is enough of a qualifier."

    "Tarn's not that petty," said another patron. "He wouldn't go that far... would he?"

    "Oh! You're talking about the D.J.D.!" Dion smacked his forehead. "My apologies. Just a bit buzzed."

    Several Decepticons glanced at him. Heavy Barrel narrowed his optics. Treadshot rubbed his chin.

    "Y'know," the latter murmured, "the last thing we want is to be spotted with an Autobot."

    "Yeah," Heavy Barrel said. "And we all know the D.J.D. hates Autobots more than the 'Cons on their list. So if we wanted to be on their good side...."

    "Guys, come on," Gutcruncher said. "We don't need to do this. This place is supposed to be welcome to all."

    "This from the 'Con who used to sell Autobot remains on the black market," Treadshot remarked. "Don't tell me you've gone soft, Gutcruncher. With a name like that, I'd expect--"

    "Um, guys," Skidmark interjected. "When I said they're here, I meant--"

    The small bot was immediately silenced by a blast to the head. All turned to see five imposing figures standing in the doorway.

    "Hello," Tarn said. "Are we interrupting anything?"

*  *  *

    "Rodimus, I assure you that I had nothing to do with--"

    "Shut up!" Rodimus snapped at Megatron, in the midst of pacing around the bridge. "Not a single word from you! I'm this close to having Rampage tear your head off."

    "Rodimus, calm down," Ultra Magnus said. "It's entirely possible that Megatron did not summon the D.J.D. There are plenty of Decepticons on Paradron, so it's possible that--"

    "Wait, you're defending him?" Rodimus started at his first mate incredulously. "You of all bots are the last one I'd expect to be defending a genocidal despot--"

    "I'm not defending him!" Ultra Magnus protested. "I'm simply trying to bring up all the possibilities before you jump to conclusions."

    "Oh, I'm jumping to conclusions, am I? Well forgive me for assuming that the guy who used to command five homicidal maniacs would summon said homicidal maniacs. I didn't realize that was such a ridiculous thing to presume."

    "Look," Megatron said, earning himself a Rodimus-fashioned stink eye. "I'll deal with them. You can stay here and leave them to me. They're my responsibility."

    "Oh, sure." Rodimus crossed his arms. "Like we'd let you go by yourself. Nothing like letting a nosoron loose in a g-metal shop."

    Ultra Magnus sighed. "What if I went with him?"

    Rodimus stared at him slack-jawed. "You're kidding me."

    "I've faced off against Tarn before. I can--"

    "Yeah, but the entire gang?"

    Ultra Magnus frowned but seemed to catch Rodimus' point. "You're right. Perhaps we should stay here... or let Megatron go by himself."

    "They're going to come to us eventually, Rodimus," Megatron said. "If not for me then likely for Drift. I know he used to be a soldier of mine. He's definitely on the List."

    "He has a point," Ultra Magnus said. "In fact, Drift could be the reason they're here to begin with."

    Rodimus sighed as he rubbed his head. "You're right. I hadn't thought of that." He looked back at Megatron. "You swear that this isn't a trick."

    "I swear on my life," Megatron replied.

    Rodimus carefully nodded. "All right. Go get 'em."

*  *  *

    They had arrived. Just as she had hoped.

    And now she was having second thoughts.

    Stormshot hugged her knees to her chest as she sat in the alleyway outside Gutcruncher's bar. She could already hear Tarn terrorizing the patrons inside, searching for her.

    Why did she have to do this? Why did she have to put the lives of others in danger for her sake? Why was she such an idiot?

    Just get up and reveal yourself. It would all be over.

    Would it though? How did she know the D.J.D. wouldn't then move on to other targets on their list?

    The sound of someone transforming broke her from her thoughts and she looked up to see a yellow and orange mech standing over her. Before she could say anything, he grabbed her by the arm.

    "I'm sorry," he said, raising a hand. On his palm was a small, sparkling device.

    Stormshot opened her mouth to speak when he struck her and everything went dark.

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars V, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

    It just wasn't adding up.

    Skyfall, Sprocket, Tracks.

    If the name was on this list, it would have been right here. Between Sprocket and Tracks. But it wasn't. Perhaps he had made a mistake?

    No, impossible. He never made simple errors like that. There had to be a reasonable explanation for this; perhaps Stormshot hadn't even served in Prime's unit and had been in a different one.

    ...Except he didn't remember ever serving with a Stormshot in his unit. And she certainly hadn't been in the Dynobots.

    Why then did she have footage of Hydrus Four if she wasn't in any of the Autobots' units? Unless....

    There was a knock at the door. Switching his datapad off, Minimus Ambus returned to his armor before responding. "Who is it?"

   "It's me," came the voice of Megatron. "May I come in?"

   Ultra Magnus frowned. "That won't be necessary."

    He quickly strode over to the door and opened it. Megatron stood outside, arms folded over his chest.

    "How goes your research?"

    Magnus narrowed his optics. "What do you want?"

    "I need someone reasonable to talk to. You're pretty much my only option on this ship."

    Magnus sighed. "What did Rodimus do this time?"

    "Nothing. That's the problem: he's reusing to take any action and would rather wait for Cybertron to come through for us."

    "In that case, I agree with his decision for once."

    Megatron frowned. "You're kidding me."

    "Rodimus and I have both dealt with the Carcerians, Megatron. They are all made for combat and outnumber us by the hundreds. Taking them on would be suicide."

    Megatron stared at him for a moment before stepping back. "Very well. I trust your judgment more than anyone else's here."

    "Why?"

    The former Decepticon leader smirked. "Well, an Autobot who's managed to thwart me nearly as much as Optimus Prime must be doing something right."

    Magnus was silent for a moment as Megatron turned to leave. Then, he called out, "Wait."

    Megatron stopped to look back at him. "Yes?"

    The larger bot stepped aside from the doorway. "Come in. I may need your help."

*  *  *

    Once, thousands of years ago, I, Magmatron, ruled Eukaris with an iron fist.

    The title of Beast King had been bestowed upon me by the Fateweavers, who claimed to be the prophets of Onyx Prime. Whether they were or not was never my concern; the four tribes accepted their judgment, which was all I needed. My first act was to order the execution of my predecessor, who had allowed Nova Prime to colonize our world and spread the filth of Cybertron. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?

    For five thousand years did I rule Eukaris. Despite being a colony of Cybertron, I ensured that no Cybertronians dare touch down on Eukaris' soil. For the most part, I succeeded... until the Predacons arrived.

    The Predacons had been one of Trannis' most elite units in the Decepticon Empire. Their leader Razorclaw, however, had no desire to aid Trannis in his plot for revenge and split off from the Decepticons. He and his Predacons eventually found Eukaris and somehow bypassed our anti-Cybertronian defenses.

    It was with this seemingly impossible feat that Razorclaw and his Predacons were able to convince the tribes that they were heralds sent by Onyx Prime. With this claim, they were able to turn my own people against me and I was banished from Eukaris.

    For decades I roamed aimlessly through space in the small, powerless ship the Predacons had allowed me. After fifty years of wandering, I eventually came across the vessel which looms over your planet today: Carcer.

    I was brought aboard the Titan by its then-captain: an old, derelict mech who went by the name First One. His crew had been fewer in number then; Carcer's hot spot had long since died out. As such, he had taken to picking up stragglers such as myself, to provide shelter to those in need of it.

    One of these stragglers turned out to be none other than Sentinel Prime -- the original, whose identity Galvatron had stolen millennia ago. The First One told me that he had been in stasis for nearly three thousand years and was showing no signs of awakening.

    From the First One's crew, I learned what had befallen Cybertron. With Nova Prime long gone, corruption was beginning to spread, certain to tear the planet apart. The so-called Golden Age the false Sentinel Prime claimed to have brought was marred in black. Our race had fallen quite the ways.

    As such, I took matters into my own hands.

    After the First One had passed away, I took control of Carcer and created the Covenant. I planned to find twelve others and name them Primes, to serve as rulers of Cybertron as the Thirteen once had.

    Sentinel was the first to join my ranks after I had managed to awaken him. Next was Ultra Trion, who had left the Autobots a year prior. He followed shortly by Elita-Two, who took on the name Elitus as a more "proper" Prime name.

    Over the next several centuries, we received several ex-Autobots and Decepticons hoping to escape the war. None of them were quite Prime material however. Eventually, I grew tired of waiting and sped things up a bit. I returned to Eukaris and reclaimed my title as Beast King, overthrowing Razorclaw and his cronies, and taking from him something else that had once been mine....

*  *  *

    Sandstorm stared at Magmatron, waiting for him to continue. When the Beast King did not, he asked, "And that would be...?"

    Magmatron smiled as he reached behind his back and, from a subspace portal, brought out a spherical object with pronged sides.

    Sandstorm's optics widened. "The Enigma of Combination?"

    "The one and only. We found it on a trading world two months ago. It was taken from us and somehow ended up in the Predacons' hands. Fortunately, I was able to recover it."

    "And... you plan on using it?"

    "No, I plan on putting it on my mantle." Magmatron laughed. "Of course I plan on using it! It's simply a matter of finding the right test subjects."

    Sandstorm did not like the sound of that. "Test subjects?"

    "Don't worry, it shouldn't be fatal. Just find me some willing volunteers and you can consider us even."

    Before Sandstorm could protest, Magmatron was already on his feet and heading for the door.

    "Bring them to Carcer once you've gathered them. I'll be waiting."

    And with that, he was gone, leaving Sandstorm alone to mull over what he had brought upon himself.

*  *  *

    "Stormshot, you say." Megatron rubbed his chin as he stared at Ultra Magnus' screen, displaying the list of Autobots who had participated in the Battle of Hydrus Four. "That name does ring a bell or two."

    "So she was a Decepticon?" Magnus asked.

    "She must have been, if she wasn't one of your bots. She would have had to have been one of the M.T.O.s Shockwave had built during the battle. She certainly wasn't part of my command unit."

    "Interesting." Magnus leaned back in his seat. "Well, that certainly clears things up... as well as raise even more questions." He turned back to Megatron and opened his mouth... but no words came out.

    "Uh...."

    Megatron glanced at him. "Yes?"

    "Th-- thhh-- thank... you."

    "...You're welcome." Megatron tilted his head. "Are you all right, Ultra Magnus?"

    "Yes, of course. Just a bit...." Magnus trailed off for a minute before raising a hand to his comm. "Rodimus?"

    "Hey, Mags, I really hate to call you, I know you're busy and all that, and you hate to be disturbed and--"

   "Rodimus, are you all right? You sound... are you shaking right now?"

    "Ha ha, no, I'm fine, just, you know, this day keeps getting better and better and I'm just loving it all."

    "Rodimus, what's wrong? Calm down and tell me what's--"

    "Is Megatron with you? Tell him his fan club just showed up."

    Magnus glanced at Megatron, who was already grimacing.

    "They're here," he murmured. "My five worst mistakes."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars V, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

--The Lost Light--

    "Any luck?"

    Nautica shook her head as she came from around the ship's engine block, still embedded with the bodies of Shock and Ore. "Nope. It's completely dead. Whoever sabotaged us really didn't want us to leave."

    "Magnus told me it was most likely Stormshot," Skids said, crossing his arms.

    "Who?" Nautica asked.

    "Stormshot. White and blue bot, wings, visor. Might have been an Aerialbot."

    "Oh. I've never heard of them."

    "No one has, actually," Skids said. "Apparently she has been a shut-in ever since our quest started. The only 'bot she ever associates with is Evac, who let slip that--"

    "Sorry, who's Evac?"

    "Stormshot's roommate."

    "Oh, right! The orange and blue helicopter."

    "No, that's a different Evac. He's still on Cybertron. This Evac is a blue car."

    Nautica frowned as she scratched her head. "I'm sorry, this is all so confusing."

    "Join the club," Skids muttered. "Anyway, wanna go tell Rodimus the news?"

    Nautica sighed as her shoulders drooped. "Must I? He doesn't seem to be in a good mood."

    "He hasn't been since Megatron came on board." Skids smiled as he put a hand on Nautica's shoulder. "But don't worry. I'll tell him myself if you want."

    "No, no, that's okay. I was the one he sent so I should be the one to tell him."

    "Tell you what: how about we both go tell him? I can be your support beam."

    Nautica smiled back at him. "That's awfully chivalrous of you."

    "What? Just being a friend."

    "Yes. A very, very good friend."

*  *  *

    "So what are we going to do?"

    "Quiet," Rodimus snapped, sitting in his captain's chair as he held his chin. "I'm contemplating."

    Megatron glared at him. "You've been 'contemplating' for nearly two days now. So I ask again, for the thousandth time: what are we going to do?"

    Rodimus rolled his optics. "Hmm, well, let's see. What can we do? We could take on Carcer head on, but that would be suicide. Even I'm not that rash. Or we could sit here and hope that our call to Cybertron gets through and they send reinforcements."

    Megatron scowled at him. "So that's your plan? To sit here and wait?"

    "Hey, you're free to do whatever you want. If you want to take on Carcer yourself, be my guest; just don't expect anyone to help you."

    Megatron continued to glare at him before turning away, snorting as he folded his arms. "Where's Ultra Magnus gone to?"

    "Why do you care?" Rodimus asked.

    "I don't. It's just that I haven't seen him in quite some time."

    "He said he was doing research." Rodimus shrugged. "Didn't say what for."

    "And what of the engines? Has Nautica reported back yet?"

    "Um, right here, sirs."

    Both bots turned to see Nautica stepping onto the bridge, with Skids right beside her. She briefly glanced at Megatron before looking directly at Rodimus.

    "The engines are dead," she said. "Completely dead. No way to fix them. We're stuck here."

    "Great." Rodimus ran a hand over his face. "Just great. Guess all we can do now is hope that Cybertron comes through for us before Carcer realizes we're here and blows us up."

    "What's Carcer doing now?" Skids asked.

    "So far nothing," Megatron replied. "As far as we know, it's still hanging over Paradise Tower."

    "What would anyone want from Paradron anyway?" Nautica wondered aloud. "Especially to kill Landshark over it...."

    "What anyone would want," Megatron muttered. "Complete and utter control."

--Paradise Tower--

    "Why so glum, Sandstorm? Is this not what you wanted?"

    Sandstorm turned away from the shattered window to see the one known as Magmatron standing in the doorway. The monstrous beast-former stepped into the room, baring his fangs as he smiled.

    "We did our part, did we not?" the Covenant leader asked. "We made you leader of Paradron."

    "Yes, but...." Sandstorm glanced back out the window, where he could still see the crater made from the impact of Landshark's twisted, motionless corpse. "Did you really need to kill Landshark?"

    "How else would we have done it?" Magmatron growled. "Besides, he was weak. In our world, only the strong deserve to live."

    Sandstorm sighed, closing his optics. "Even so, Paradron is supposed to be peaceful. Violence is condemned here."

    "Oh?" Magmatron raised an optic ridge. "Then what about all of those bots you killed before our arrival?"

    "That was different!" Sandstorm snapped. "They were Autobots and Decepticons, not Paradrons! I was trying to send a message, to expose Landshark's mistake in granting them refuge."

    "And now he's paid the price. I fail to see the problem here."

    "There...." Sandstorm averted his gaze. "There is no problem."

    "Good! Now we can focus on the important things." Magmatron laid a hand on Sandstorm's shoulder. Leaning in close, he said, "Tell me: what do you know of the Covenant?"

    "Very little," Sandstorm murmured. "I only learned of you from word of mouth; whispers and hearsay."

    "How did you get into contact with us?"

    "A friend of mine called me. He had just joined your colony seven years ago and told me that if I ever needed help or a different place to live, to call the number he gave me."

    "And what was your friend's name?"

    "Wingblade." Sandstorm looked up at Magmatron. "Is he here? Is he still with you?"

    Magmatron smiled thinly. "He is. I'll be sure to reunite the two of you when I get the chance. But first, why don't we sit down? I think it's time you learned the full story behind the Covenant...."

*  *  *

    Judging by the fact that he had not exploded into a billion particles, Dion deemed the prototype time machine to be a success. It was still ridiculously heavy, but a success nonetheless.

    Setting down the block on the lid of a nearby dumpster, the orange Autobot frowned as he looked up. Unless he was mistaken, there had definitely not been a massive ship in the sky when he was last here.

    Try to get there before the Carcer incident.

    Dion swore under his breath. It would have helped if Pox had given him a specific date....

    "You lost, buddy?"

    Dion turned around to see a green mech standing behind him, a Decepticon emblem on their wide yellow chest. Instinctively, Dion deployed his twin cannons, causing the 'Con to raise his hands defensively.

    "Easy, pal. I'm not looking for a fight. Name's Gutcruncher."

    "Not exactly the friendliest of names, is it?" Dion said wryly.

    Gutcruncher chuckled. "Guess not. But Sparkcrusher was already taken, so...."

    Deeming the Decepticon to not be a threat, Dion retracted his weapons. "My name's Dion. Care to tell me what a Titan's doing in the sky?"

    "Heh, I was kinda hoping you would tell me," Gutcruncher said. "It just showed up out of nowhere two days ago and--"

    "Two days?!" Dion's optics widened. "Am I too late?"

    "Um, what?"

    Ignoring him, Dion reached for the time machine, studying the readings on its screen. He must have miscalculated the jump... that or the device was just as unreliable as Tyrone had warned him it would be.

    I have to go back further, he thought as he began to prepare the machine for another jump. I can't waste anytime searching for them. Cop-Tur might already be--

    He pressed a button and the whole thing sputtered and died, falling apart in his hands.

    No.

    He stared at the remains of what had once been the last time machine in the world.

    No.

    "Wow," Gutcruncher commented. "Even I put more effort in my products."

    In theory, Dion's screams could have been heard from orbit.

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars V, Prelude

PRELUDE

--Eukaris--

    It had been ten days since the Titans arrived.

    Deep within the abandoned Predacon fortress, a large blue rat poked its head out of an alcove, looking back and forth before carefully creeping out. As far as Packrat knew, he was the only one in the fortress. But one could never be too sure.

    He scattered down the deserted hallway, making a dash for the door up ahead. Upon reaching it, he quietly climbed up the steps and peered into the empty chamber. Five seats stood in a semi-circle, two broken and one nearly destroyed. Claw marks decorated the tapestry that displayed the three visages of the Beast God Onyx.

   Must have been one heck of a fight, Packrat thought as he crept towards the tapestry. Nose twitching, the blue rat studied the decoration until he found exactly what he was looking for. Using his small paws, he opened the hidden hatch to reveal a small chute going down.

   "Primus shield my spark and all that," Packrat prayed as he hopped into the chute and went sliding down.

    After a series of twists and turns, he eventually reached the bottom and ended up in a wide dark chamber. At the center of it was a large device with two prongs protruding from it. Converting to robot mode, Packrat stared in awe at the space bridge.

    Sorry I ever doubted you, kid. Raising a hand to his comm, "Hey, Apelinq? I've found it. The space bridge, I mean."

    "Excellent," Apelinq replied. "Is it still in operating order?"

    "I think so. How do I turn it on?"

    Apelinq responded with a bunch of words Packrat did not understand. Rolling his eyes, the blue Maximal said, "Hey, kid, not everyone is a super genius like you. Can't you use normal words for once?"

    Apelinq sighed. "Okay, okay. Do you see a handle anywhere on the control panel?"

    Packrat scanned the panel and found just that. "Yeah, I see one big one."

    "Pull that and you should be good to go?"

    "Why didn't you just to do that in the first place?" Packrat asked as he pulled the switch. In an instant, a portal materialized before the two prongs. "Anyway, it works."

    "Brilliant! Now, see if you can find a way for the rest of us to get in."

    Packrat scratched his head as he looked around. "Well, the only thing I see is a door leading to the dungeon...."

    "All right. Slash says she knows the way. We'll be there shortly."

    "Okay. Packrat, out." Ending the call, Packrat turned back to the space bridge... and found a black and red bot standing in front of it.

    "Uh, where did you come from?" the Maximal asked.

    The bot's joints creaked as he turned his head towards him. Packrat recoiled upon seeing the mech's lack of face, baring only a gaping hole that showed his internals.

    "Th- -issi-n h-s f-iled," were what sputtered out of his exposed voicebox.

    "What?" Packrat asked.

    "T-ey h-v- th- -igma. M-st g- it b-"

    "Sorry, pal, I have no idea what you're saying."

    "F-iled. I -m a f-ilur-. I m-st -ke th-gs r-ht."

    Before Packrat could stop him, the bot punched in a few commands into the control panel before throwing himself into the portal. As soon as he was gone, the portal dissapated.

    Alarmed, Packrat ran over to the space bridge and pulled the switch again. Nothing happened. It had gone dead.

    Swearing aloud, the Maximal banged his head against the control panel.

    "This is just prime...."

EIGHTY PERCENT OF THE PEOPLE

Part II: The Devil's Workshop

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars IV, Chapter Ten

What the heck, it's a short one (not to mention the last chapter for this installment)

CHAPTER TEN

--Star Command HQ, the future--

    "This is bad."

    "Thank you, Tyrone," Dion said, rolling his optics as he paced back and forth. "I hadn't figured that out yet."

    "Don't mind him, he's salty," said Melissa, leaning over her friend's shoulder. "What's the stitch?"

    It was Tyrone's turn to roll his eyes, exasperated at the red-head's obsession with a TV show that was nearly a thousand years old. "Cop-Tur was the last Time Micron from his wave," he explained. "The next wave isn't scheduled for production for another two years."

    "I can't wait two years!" Dion cried. "I need to get Cop-Tur back now!"

    "And Megatron," Melissa added.

    "Right, of course. Can't forget him."

    "Well, to be fair, there isn't really any rush," Tyrone pointed out. "I mean, we're talking over 800 years here, so everything's already happened. You just haven't done it yet. But you can do it anytime. Because you can go back to any point at any point."

    "I know how time travel works," Dion said bitterly. "I just can't stand leaving Cop-Tur behind like that. I mean... what are WALL-E and EVE going to say?"

    Tyrone slapped his forehead. "Oh, right. I forgot he's their son."

    "'Son,'" Melissa repeated, performing air quotes with her fingers. "They're robots, Tyrone. They can't have kids."

    "Hey, present company! Besides, show some respect. If it weren't for them, we'd all be fat blobs floating around in space for all eternity."

    "Guys, focus!" Dion said. "We need to get me back to the past. Sooner rather than later."

    "Cool your jets, Samurai Jack." Melissa tapped a few buttons on Tyrone's keyboard. "Pox, we need you."

    In seconds, a blue hologram materialized before the two scientists, taking on the form of a curvaceous woman in a sailor uniform with a full-on beard, fogged spectacles, a cowboy hat, and a toothbrush.

    "You guys always pick the worst time," Pox said gruffly.

    Tyrone frowned at the holo. "Why do you have a toothbrush?"

    "Um, to brush my teeth?" Pox rolled their eyes. "Duh."

    "But you're a hologram. You don't need--"

    "To brush my teeth? No. I also don't need to wear clothes or have hair or wear glasses or--"

    Tyrone waved his hand. "Okay, okay. Forget I said anything. Anyway, we need a time machine."

    Pox adjusted their glasses. "I thought you had a time machine."

    "Yeah," Dion muttered. "Had."

    "He lost Cop-Tur in the past," Melissa explained to the holo. "He needs a way to get back."

    "And how would I be of any help?" Pox asked.

    "Because you're older than any of us. You've worked for the E.D.C since before Operation Recolonize. You've met the Transformers. You've helped fight against the Troobians. You're a hologuru."

    Tyrone rolled his eyes. "Oh, please...."

    Pox smirked as they stroked their beard. "That's all very nice of you to say. But what does any of this have to do with me finding a time machine? Do you expect me to call up someone with a flying phone booth?"

    "You assisted Doctor Chase in creating the Time Microns," Melissa said. "Do you know of any prototypes he made?"

    Pox thought for a moment. "As a matter of fact, he did."

    "Great!" Dion said. "Where is it?"

    "In a warehouse on the far end of Axiom City. However, while it is operable, there is a catch to it."

    Dion's shoulders drooped. "Of course there is...."

    "It'll only send you to the same location as where you activate it," Pox went on. "For example, if you want to get back to Paradise City, you have to go to Paradise City now and activate it there."

    Dion nodded. "Right, okay. Not too much of an inconvenience. Paradron isn't that far from Earth -- at least, not if I take a Lightyear-class ship."

    Tyrone clapped his hands as he rose from his seat. "All right, let's get to Axiom City. Thanks for your help, Pox."

    "It's what I'm here for." The hologram then raised a finger. "Oh, before you go... when is it exactly that you're sending Dion to?"

    "May of 2015," Melissa said.

    "May of 2015?" Pox ran a hand through their beard again. "Interesting."

    Tyrone raised an eyebrow. "Why is that interesting?"

    "Oh, nothing." Pox smiled, albeit with a touch of grimness. "Just be sure you get to Paradise City before the Carcer incident."

    "The Carcer incident?"

    "Welp, I'm off to bed. Toodles." With a wave of their hand, Pox dissolved, leaving Dion and the scientists in silence.

TO BE CONTINUED

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars IV, Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

--Paradron--

    "Sir, there's been another--"

    "I know," Sandstorm said curtly as he entered his office. "Any word from my contact?"

    Playback shook his head. "Not yet. But, sir, shouldn't something be--"

    "What do you expect me to do?" Sandstorm snapped at the red and white bot. "Landshark's the one in charge, not me. This is his situation, not mine."

    "Yes, but as a candidate, shouldn't you--"

    "Get out." Sandstorm pointed his assistant to the door. "I need some time alone. I can't think with someone harping in my audio sensor."

    Once a petrified Playback had scurried out of the room, Sandstorm locked the door and sat down at his desk, pressing his palms against his forehead.

    "Come on," he growled to himself. "You said you'd be here by now."

    "What's wrong? Tired of killing already?"

    Jumping to his feet, Sandstorm whirled around to see a blue bot standing on the balcony behind him, his frame a dead ringer for a certain Autobot leader.

    "P-Prime?" Sandstorm stammered.

    "Close enough." Stepping through the open window, Convoy fixed the ex-Wrecker with a piercing glare. "So what happened to being pacifists? Just couldn't help killing again?"

    "I... I don't know what you're talking about. How did you find me? How did you get past the guards?"

   "I overpowered them. It was remarkably easy." Convoy began to circle the yellow and orange bot. "So why did you kill Blitz?"

    "I haven't killed anyone!" Sandstorm exclaimed.

    "Then why were you at the scene of the crime? Why didn't you do anything to help?"

    Backing towards his desk, Sandstorm reached for something underneath. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

    "Don't play dumb!" Convoy snapped. "I know it was you! I followed you here!"

    Sandstorm frowned. "Did you now? That's too bad."

    From under the desk, he drew a gun and aimed it at the clone's head.

    "I was hoping to use my second-to-last bullet for a special someone, but I guess I'll just have to readjust my--"

    "Sir?" The door to his office opened as Playback walked in with a sick-looking mech. "This bot needs medical--" He stopped as he saw what was going on. "...Sir? What... what are you doing?"

    Sandstorm closed his optics as he sighed. "It's not what it looks like, Playback. Just turn around and walk away."

    "You... you have a gun," Playback murmured. "That's... that's against the law, Sandstorm."

    Sandstorm gritted his teeth as he applied pressure on the trigger. "I am the law."

    He then fired the gun... just as Convoy launched himself at the ex-Wrecker. The fourth infernus bullet flew over the Prime clone's shoulder, burning a hole through the wall. Convoy then pushed Sandstorm over his desk, knocking the gun out of his hand and over to a shocked Playback.

    "It was you!" he cried. "You're the murderer!"

    "Playback," Sandstorm grunted, struggling against Convoy. "You should have waited outside."

    From behind Playback, a detail of security bots came charging towards Sandstorm's office. Without thinking, Playback picked up the discarded gun and turned to face the arriving police force.

    "Clamp Down, it was Sandstorm! He's the murder--"

    "Drop the weapon!" Clamp Down shouted, raising a stun blaster. "Now!"

    "What? But I didn't...." Playback dropped the gun, a distraught look on his face. "I didn't do anything...."

    "Sparkride, cuff him up -- as well as his friend!" Pushing past Playback, Clamp Down raised his blaster at Convoy. "I've got this one."

    "No," Cannonspring croaked, trying to break free from Playback's grasp. "He's not the enemy...."

    But it was too late. Clamp Down had already fired his weapon and Convoy was on the ground, unconscious. As Sandstorm got to his feet, Clamp Down walked up to him. "Are you all right, sir?"

    "I'm fine," Sandstorm muttered, dusting himself off. "See to it that these delinquents are properly detained."

    Saluting him, Clamp Down gestured for his bots to retrieve the unconscious Convoy. Suddenly, Cannonspring fell to the floor, clutching his chest.

    "Somebody take this mech to Lifeline," Clamp Down ordered. "He looks like he's on the verge of stasis lock."

    "He's here," Cannonspring murmured. "I can feel him."

    Sandstorm frowned at him. "What are you talking about? Who's here?"

    But the ailing mech did not need to answer, as at that moment a giant shadow fell over the building. Running over to the balcony, Sandstorm came out to see the best thing he had seen all day.

    A Titan.

--The Lost Light--

   "Please tell me that's not what I think it is."

    "I don't know what you want me to say it is," Mainframe said as he and the rest of the bridge crew stared at the massive ship that had just appeared in Paradron's sky. "It's a Titan--"

    Rodimus shook his head. "Not just any Titan. It's the worst Titan. The Titan I never wanted to see again for as long as I lived."

    "What are you Autobots going on about?" Megatron growled.

    Ignoring him, Rodimus said to Mainframe, "Get us out of here. Now."

    "But Convoy and Cannonspring--" Ultra Magnus started to say.

    "They left on their own voalition. They chose their fate. We're choosing ours. Now get us out of here!"

    "We can't," Mainframe said.

    Rodimus grabbed him by the shoulders. "What do you mean we can't?!"

    "The engines aren't responding."

    "Sabotage?" Megatron asked.

    "I don't know. Something happened or someone did something."

    "But who?" Magnus asked. "Who could have done that? And why?"

    Megatron rubbed his chin. "Which hab suite is closest to the engine rooms?"

    Mainframe thought for a moment. "Uh... Room 791. That's... Evac and Stormshot's room."

    "Evac and Whoshot?" Rodimus asked. "Not names I recognize."

    "I'll go check things out," Magnus said, turning to leave the bridge. "Call me in case Carcer does anything bad."

    "Just being there is bad enough." Rodimus then frowned as he looked back at a retreating Magnus. "Wait, you're leaving me with Megatron?"

    "I won't be gone long," Magnus said. "Try not to kill each other."

    Once he was gone, Megatron glanced at Rodimus. "Was that a joke?"

    "Mags never jokes," Rodimus muttered.

    "Really? Because I remember at Simanzi he was quite the funny one...."

*  *  *

    "Stormshot? Come on, it's me. Open up."

    Evac knocked on the door for the nth time. No response came. The blue Autobot frowned, worry filling his spark.

    "I promise not to brag about how much fun I had. In fact, I didn't have fun at all. Nothing's fun without you...."

    Still nothing. Evac pressed his forehead against the door, doing everything he could from breaking down.

    "Please answer," he whispered. "You don't have to open the door, just say something. Tell me that you... that you're still...."

    He couldn't bring himself to say it. He didn't want to think his friend would do something like that. He refused to.

    "Evac?"

    The blue mech looked up to see Ultra Magnus standing over him. Relief flooded his spark.

    "Ultra Magnus! Sir! Thank goodness you're here!" Evac exclaimed. "It's Stormshot. She... the door won't open. It's locked from the inside and... she won't answer."

    Wordlessly, Magnus waved a security card through the control panel, bypassing the lock. Evac braced himself as the door slid open....

    ...and revealed nothing but a viewscreen playing at the end of the room.

    "Stormshot?" Evac called out, but it was clear his friend was nowhere to be found.

    Ultra Magnus, meanwhile, was staring at the footage being played on the viewscreen. His optics narrowed as he tried to discern the fast-moving images.

    "That's Hydrus Four," he murmured.

    Evac froze up as he figured out what was going on. "Oh no... she's called them."

    Magnus raised an optic at him. "Called who?"

    Before Evac could answer, Magnus' comm buzzed and Rodimus' voice came through.

    "Magnus, get back here. Carcer is doing something bad."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars IV, Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

--Paradron--

    "Gone? What do you mean he's gone?"

    Rodimus glanced up at Landshark, who was hunched over his desk on his comm.

    "What about Dion? Is he gone as well? Did he tell you that he would be leaving?" Landshark paused as he listened in. "...I see. Yes, that is very well a possibility but.... hm. You could be right."

    Rodimus raised an optic ridge as the Paradron leader continued the one-sided conversation. Eventually, Landshark signed off before straightening up and looking back at Rodimus.

    "Good news," the green bot said, smiling. "You and your crew are free to go."

    Rodimus blinked. "What?"

    "Checkpoint has just informed me that Dion has left with Megatron in custody."

    Rodimus' mouth fell open but no words came out. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Megatron was gone? Just like that?

    "I expect this comes as a huge relief to you," Landshark went on. "Now you don't need to waste time searching for those non-existent Knights. I'll have Streetstar release your teammates."

    But Rodimus was no longer listening to him now. His mind was still juggling a dozen questions: where had Megatron be taken to? What did Dion want with him? What was Dion even doing here?

    Noticing Rodimus' silence, Landshark inclined his head at him. "Are you all right?"

    "Huh?" Rodimus blinked, shaking his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I just... that's good. That's great news."

    Landshark nodded. "I'm glad you think so. Have a safe journey."

    "Thanks," Rodimus murmured, still dumbstruck as he turned to leave. "We will."

*  *  *

    Three bullets left. Three targets to go.

    The day was going well. Everything was proceeding as the murderer had hoped. Faith in Landshark's leadership was wavering. Fear had the population in a constant state of paranoia.

    It was perfect.

    Positioning himself on the rooftop, the murderer raised his gun and took aim. Looking through his scope, he could see his target in plain view, sitting with two others. Their time would come eventually, but that didn't matter now.

    Ransack of Kalis was the Decepticon's name. Nicknamed Blitz by his comrades. Starved an entire planet by siphoning it of pseudo-energon in Cycle 9419.

    The murderer smiled as he squeezed the trigger.

    "Justice," he said as the infernus bullet flew from the barrel and struck its target.

*  *  *

    Convoy's head turned at the sound of screaming.

    "Blitz!"

    Cannonspring looked up as well and turned his head towards the alleyway they had been passing by. Down that way, they could see two bots cradling the burning body of a purple and green mech.

    "Huh," Cannonspring murmured. "So much for paradise."

    Convoy said nothing, still staring at the horrific scene. Frowning at him, Cannonspring tugged at his arm.

    "Come on. This isn't our scene. We have to find Chaindrive."

    At that moment, both bots looked up at the sound of jet engines and saw an orange VTOL aircraft shooting across the sky, coming from the same direction as the murder. As Cannonspring watched it fly off, Convoy converted into his truck mode.

    "Get on," the clone said.

    "You're not actually thinking of--"

    "I said get on."

    Rolling his optics, Cannonspring did as told and before he knew it, Convoy was speeding after the aircraft.

*  *  *

    "Well, that was the shortest stop we've ever made," Whirl commented as he, Skids and the rest of Magnus' party returned to the Lost Light. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. This planet sucks."

    "At least I got this," Tailgate said, still admiring his hoverboard. "Consider me happy."

    "Isn't that the new Delor model?" Swerve asked, looking over at the board. "I heard they cost a fortune."

    "They do! This one costed 85 shanix!"

    Swerve frowned. "But we were only given fifty."

    Skids did not hear Tailgate's response as he was suddenly pulled aside by Brainstorm.

    "I'm sorry," the scientist murmured to him. "I know I've screwed up badly. I shouldn't have--"

    "It's not your fault," Skids said. "You were-- we were both tricked by him. Neither of us could have known."

    Brainstorm sighed. "Still, this could've been all avoided if I hadn't opened that stupid briefcase."

    "Hey, don't worry about that, okay? It's all water under the bridge."

    "If you say so," Brainstorm said as they all boarded the ship. "I'm just not sure if you can speak for everyone."

*  *  *

    "Megatron is gone?"

    "That's what I've heard," Rodimus muttered as he and Ultra Magnus headed towards the bridge. "I'm still trying to comprehend what Landshark told me. All I know is that Dion had something to do with it."

    Magnus looked confused. "Who's Dion?"

    "One of Optronix's old buddies, from his Elite Guard days." Rodimus groaned as he rubbed his forehead. "Brainstorm abducted him during the time travel business. I've been meaning to ask him about that, but after everything we've been through...."

    Magnus shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Point is, Megatron is gone, which is not good in the slightest."

    Rodimus glanced at him. "I thought you hated having him on board."

    "I did, but I hate not knowing where he is even more. We still don't know if his intentions for finding the Knights are true or if he's simply placing us like the Decepticon he is."

    Rodimus sighed as they reached the door. "I agree. But what can we do at this point? We don't know where he's gone or why Dion has taken him or--"

    The door slid open and both Autobots froze in their tracks. Sitting in the captain's chair, one leg hanging off the armrest, was Megatron.

    "You're right, Rodimus," the former Decepticon leader said with a grin. "This chair is rather comfortable."

    "Oi!" Rodimus exclaimed, arms flailing. "What in the nine levels of the Great Inferno is going on here?!"

    "I don't know what you're talking about."

    "Landshark told me Dion had taken you into custody! You--he--I--argh!"

    "Ah, I see there has been a slight misunderstanding." Megatron straightened in his seat. "I was pad a visit by Dion, but he... well, I'll get to that. Once he had left, Soundblaster tricked the security outside by mimicking his voice and sending them off."

    "What did you do to Dion?" Magnus growled, fists clenched. "Because if you've killed him, then--"

    "Relax. I've done nothing more than send him home."

    "Send him home?"

    Grinning, Megatron held out his hand, revealing a small, blue Mini-Con curled up into a ball.

    "This is Cop-Tur. He's a time machine."

    Rodimus stared at him incredulously. "What."

    "He can open time portals anywhere to anytime. You know what this means?"

    "Enlighten us," Magnus said flatly. "Please."

    "It means we have the key to finding the Knights."

    Both Autobots were silent as they looked from Megatron to Cop-Tur and back. Rodimus then sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

    "You're suggesting that we travel to the past to when the Knights of Cybertron ruled."

    "Exactly. Or, in case we can't go back that far, we find one of the ancient Primes and learn from them."

    "Surely you can't be serious," Ultra Magnus said. 

    "Don't believe me?" Megatron looked down at Cop-Tur. "Show them."

    "I can't," the Mini-Con whimpered.

    Megatron's optics flared. "Why not?"

    "I can only create two time portals: one to the past and one to the future."

    Megatron's mouth fell open. "You mean...?"

    "The portal you pushed Dion through was the last one I could make." Cop-Tur buried his face in his hands. "I'm stuck here. Forever."