CHAPTER THREE
--Necroworld--
"We can't avoid him forever, you know. We're gonna have to face the music eventually."
Skids dipped his chin as he and Getaway stood in the shadow of the monument dedicated to the Disappeared. From afar, he could see Que deep in conversation with Brainstorm and Perceptor; no doubt it had something to do with the briefcase that Censere got from Nightbeat... who got it from Skids.
What a circuitous adventure it had been.
"You said the nudge gun got rid of anything regarding our encounter," he murmured.
"I'm not talking about Que," Getaway said. "I'm talking about Prowl. Once Prime's done talking with the guys in the big frikkin' ship, he's sure to contact Cybertron and Prowl's gonna be one of the bots he talks to."
"I just...." Skids shook his head. "I just can't believe that Prowl would still blow up his agents for disobeying an order. I mean, before, during the war, I could understand, but now... wouldn't things be different now? Heck, does Prime even know about it?"
"Well, we all knew what we were getting signed up for."
"I know. But... he can't be that callous, can he?"
Getaway said nothing, instead nudging Skids with his elbow. The other mech looked up and saw that Que was walking straight towards them.
"Oh, scrap...."
"Yeah, I'll let you handle this," Getaway said, quickly stepping away. "You're more of a people person than I am."
"Thanks, buddy," Skids said dryly. "Remind me to bomp you later."
As soon as Getaway had gone, Skids was joined by a cheerful-looking Que.
"Skids!" the scientist said in greeting. "I've been looking for you."
"Uh, have you?" Skids replied, shifting uncomfortably.
"Yes. I just thought I'd let you know that Prowl and the rest of the Secret Service are on their way here."
Skids' optics flickered. "They are?"
Que nodded. "I figured since Prime would be preoccupied with this Megatron business, I would take the opportunity to summon Prowl here, especially given the Secret Order business we've just dealt with."
"Right, right. Good... good thinking." Skids rubbed the back of his head. "I'll be sure to tell Getaway."
"Before you do...." Que motioned him to follow. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."
Skids frowned, not liking how cryptic that sounded. "Who?"
"A fellow agent. He had been captured by the Secret Order a month ago, but they've since released him now that, well, they're no more. Come along."
Skids tentatively followed Que to the impromptu camp outside the Necrobot's fortress, made up of the ships the Secret Order had arrived in. Standing outside one such ship was an unassuming mech in black and yellow-orange, arms folded across his chest. As Skids and Que approached, he lifted his red optics to them but said nothing, his face impassive.
"Skids, this is Agent Unit-3," Que said in introduction. "Unit-3, this is Skids--"
"I've heard of you," Unit-3 interjected, staring at Skids. "You survived Grindcore."
"Uh, yeah." Skids smiled weakly. "Yeah. That was me."
"I was there," Unit-3 went on, fixing Skids with a steely gaze. "The 'Cons had had me there for thirty years, along with the rest of my unit."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Did you... I mean, did you and your unit manage to get our all right?"
"All of my teammates were taken away to be teleported to a Decepticon colony," Unit-3 said. "I never saw them again."
Skids did not move for a time, his optics focused on nothing in particular. Que tilted his head at him, his face filled with concern.
"Skids? Are you all right?"
All of their voices sounded distant, including his own. "It was nice meeting you, Unit-3." The words flowed out of his mouth without much thinking. "I'm sorry to hear what happened."
With that, he pivoted on his feet and trodded away, leaving behind a confused Que and a dispassionate Unit-3.
* * *
"...And that's the long and short of it."
The wheel-shaped robot called AUTO stared at Optimus Prime from the viewscreen, rotating its (his?) spokes. When the captain of the Axiom spoke, his voice carried an amused tone despite its monotonous inflection.
"That is quite the tale, Optimus Prime. One I would be willing to disbelieve were it not for Dion vouching for you."
Optimus chuckled. "I'll admit, it's taken me some time to believe it all as well."
AUTO adjusted his position. "Even so, Star Command is still under orders to apprehend Megatron. We cannot leave without him."
Optimus sighed. "And we cannot let you have him -- not when he still has the Matrix of Leadership."
"Can you not remove the Matrix from him?"
"Not without killing him."
AUTO was silent for a while and he seemed to be conversing with someone else on the Axiom. Returning his attention to Optimus, the captain said, "Perhaps we can reach an arrangement."
"What do you mean?" Optimus asked.
"The Alliance is already planning on sentencing Megatron to death. Perhaps, if allowable by my superiors, we can bring you with us back to the Alliance, have Megatron tried, and then you may remove the Matrix, therefore ending him."
Optimus frowned. AUTO did not seem to be picking up on the fact that he did not want Megatron to be taken, let alone executed. "What purpose would my presence serve?"
"To ensure the Alliance does not confiscate the Matrix or mishandle it. Plus, as leader of the Autobots--"
AUTO was cut off by someone else on the bridge. The wheel faced in their direction, his single optic dimming.
"Is everything all right?" Optimus asked.
"Odd," AUTO murmured, almost to himself. "Something appears to be--"
Without warning, the wheel-bot blinked out of existence before Optimus' very optics. Outside, the Axiom itself did the same....
* * *
"That can't be good."
Brainstorm stared at the space where the Axiom had just been a second ago. While everyone else gawked at the phenomenon, he ran for the fortress, intent on finding Dion. Maybe Skids, too; after all, he had been on the Axiom before.
However, upon reaching the fortress' entrance, Brainstorm found himself unable to move any further. It was as if an invisible wall had been erected in his path.
"You shall not pass."
Slowly, Brainstorm turned around and found himself staring at a tall bot of archaic design. Large white shoulder pans extended over his arms while a cape made up of ship bits and translucent blue wings swept behind him. A red sphere glowed within a blue crevice that adorned his midsection while gold and maroon markings decorated his white torso. From beneath a sloped helmet, red optics gazed sternly on Brainstorm, the worn plates of his face fixed in a perpetual frown.
"You have eluded me for the last time." The bot's voice sounded as old as the stars, yet carried the power of a thousand suns.
"I'm sorry," Brainstorm said. "Do I know you?"
"You have. And you will. And you will never."
"Those are all different things."
"Yes," the bot said. "Because I myself am no longer sure at this point. All thanks to you and your... endeavors."
"I'm not sure I follow."
"Good. Now you know what it's like to be in my treads."
Brainstorm shook his head. "I'm sorry, I still don't... who are you?"
The bot blinked at him. "You mean you don't recognize me? Have you never seen a depiction of me?"
Brainstorm squinted his optics. "If I have, it clearly didn't grab my attention enough."
The bot's shoulders heaved as he sighed. "Right then. My name is Vector Prime."
Silence reigned over the two mechs. Brainstorm stared at him for a moment before slowly nodding.
"Okay. I don't see-- oh! Wait!" He snapped his fingers. "You're one of the Fifteen!"
"Thirteen," Vector Prime tersely corrected him.
"Close enough. So, what are you doing here?"
Vector stared at him as if he was the stupidest being in the universe. "I'm the guardian of time and space," he stated.
"Okay? So what-- oh." Brainstorm's shoulders drooped. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"
"Yes," Vector Prime exhaled. "Yes, you are."
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