Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars XII, Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

--Folgan Castle, Earth--

    "Another lump of sugar, sir?"

    Sir Edmund Burton, Earl of Folgan, glanced at his butler as if he was the stupidest person in the world. "Do I look like I need another lump of sugar?" he grunted.

    "You do look distressed, sir. Is your tea not up to standards?"

    "Of course it's not! Nothing you do is ever up to standards!" Raising his cup, Burton poured all of the excess tea onto his manservant. "Make me another one! And dry yourself up! You must look presentable for the wedding!"

    "Wedding, sir?" the butler asked, drying himself with a rag.

    "Yes! John Davidson is getting married to that gold-digger Agnes this afternoon!"

    "Sir, John Davidson has been dead for twenty-five years." The butler glanced at the grandfather clock situated behind Burton. "Also, it's evening."

    "Is it?" As if on cue, the clock chimed at seven o' clock. Burton harrumphed as he got up from his sofa, retrieving his cane from the ottoman. "Well, don't just stand there. Call the children back in."

    "Ah, about that, sir. We appear to have visitors."

    "Visitors? I didn't invite anyone. It's not Gerald again, is it?"

    "No, sir. Bulldog is currently trying to kill them."

    "Let him! No good trespassers; they ought to learn a lesson about invading other people's property. Not that they'll live to remember it, of course."

    "I should also mention, sir, that our visitors are Autobots."

    Burton stiffened, staring at his butler as if he had just used a very offensive word. "Autobots? As in... as in...?"

    "Yes, sir."

    "Well, don't just stand there!" Burton exclaimed, waving his cane excitedly. "Get the camera! This is going to blow the minds of everyone who's ever doubted me! And those who didn't!"

    "No one has not doubted you, sir. You don't have to worry about that last bit."

*  *  *

    "Hey!" Bumblebee ducked his head as the tank fired again. Of course, it was his avatar's head, so it wouldn't have mattered if it had hit him. Regardless, Arcee pulled him out of the tank's range as it lined up another shot.

    "We come in peace!" she called out to the 1917-model tank. "There's no need to fire at us!"

    "Can it, meatbags!" the tank roared. "The only sound you are permitted to make is your final scream as you are sent on your way to oblivion!"

    "You're sure this guy isn't a Decepticon?" Bumblebee murmured, hiding behind Arcee.

    "He has the Autobot badge," Arcee said, noting the red insignia on the tank's side. "Although I'm not sure if even he knows about it...."

    Just as the tank was about to shoot again, two figures emerged from the castle. One was an elderly man with an over-sized coat and cap on, while the other was -- much to the Autobots' surprise -- a silver, human-sized robot carrying a video camera. Upon seeing the pair, the old man scowled.

    "Bullocks! These aren't Autobots! They're just a bunch of kids! Go ahead and kill them, Bulldog."

    "No, sir, they are Autobots," said the robot. "They're using holomatter avatars. Solid-light projections."

    "Solid-light--? Oh, don't give me that crap!" The old man hit the robot on the head with his cane. "I can't believe you would waste my time like that. Honestly! I say you've earned yourself seventeen whippings!"

    "Excuse me, sir?" Arcee stepped forward. The tank trained its turret on her. "Are you Sir Edmund Burton?"

    The man glared at her. "What is it to you?"

    "My name is Arcee. This is Bumblebee." She gestured at the yellow-dressed teen, who hesitantly waved. "We are indeed Autobots. We're simply using these avatars to better interact with humans."

    Burton grunted. "Well, it's not working. I have no interest in interaction, especially with my own kind."

    "Then perhaps this will better suit your needs."

    At once, Arcee and Bumblebee's avatars vanished just as their alt modes drove up, followed by Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, Ratchet, Rewind, Tailgate, Bulkhead, Wheeljack, Cliffjumper and Smokescreen. Once all were gathered, they transformed to robot mode and stood before a slack-jawed Edmund Burton.

    "Cogman?" he said to his servant.

    "Yes, sir?" the robot replied, still recording everything.

    "I think I'll have that lump of sugar now."

*  *  *

    "Fantastic."

    Crosshairs watched through the scope of his sniper rifle as the Decepticon ship landed lakeside in the Scottish Highlands. Once it had touched down, its ramp lowered to allow the five members of the D.J.D. to disembark, followed by a Mini-Con, a mutated turbofox, and an assortment of Vehicons.

    "This complicates things," said Hound, crouched down next to him.

    "No, really?" Crosshairs said snidely. "I mean, rogue 'Cons and beast-bots are one thing, but the D.J.D.? This is... this is way out of our league. This requires backup. Prime-level backup."

    "I've been trying to get through to Autobot City but something's jamming me. I don't know what--"

    "It must be Kaon," Crosshairs said, nodding to the crimson-colored Decepticon. "He's probably scrambling our signals. Maybe if I take him out--"

    "Wait." Hound put a hand on the sniper's shoulder as he pointed down below. "Over there, behind Helex. Is that... is that who I think it is?"

    Crosshairs adjusted his scope to get a better view and grimaced. "Okay," he muttered. "This just got personal."

*  *  *

    "So this is Earth." Tarn sniffed in disgust as he observed the lush green mountains that surrounded the lake they had landed at. "I can't say I'm impressed."

    "Your feelings on the world are irrelevant," said Shockwave, still standing at the entrance to the ship. "All that matters is that we locate the Fallen's Void Scepter. Then we can proceed with our plans."

    Tarn glared at the mono-eyed Decepticon. "Where has he gone to anyway? If the Void Scepter is the only thing he needs from this world, then why is he not with us here to retrieve it?"

    Shockwave regarded him evenly with his single yellow optic. "Why must you question the task you have been given? It is simple enough--"

    "How can I trust him if he won't tell us the endgame of anything?" Tarn snapped, startling the others. "He sends us to fetch his toy while he flies off to spark knows where without explanation! How can he expect us to trust him?"

    "You insist on hiding your face behind a mask," Shockwave replied. "Your name, appearance... everything about you is a lie, 'Tarn.' How can anyone expect to trust you?"

    Tarn was silent for a long moment, glowering at Shockwave from behind his mask. The other Decepticons looked between the two, unsure of how things were going to go down between them. Nickel in particular was fully invested in the confrontation; she had never seen anyone stand up to Tarn the way Shockwave was now.

    Then, to the surprise of everyone present, Tarn raised a hand to his mask... and removed it. The uncovered scarred face met Shockwave's gaze again, red optics blazing with hate.

    "Fine," Tarn growled. "No more lies."

    Turning around, he addressed the other Decepticons gathered, including his shocked teammates.

    "When I joined the Decepticons, I was promised a new beginning. And I'm not talking about treatises and propaganda; no, Megatron himself pulled me aside, and told me that this," he gestured all around him, "would be a brand new start for me. And it was! I was given a new body, a new face. I was someone different now; no longer Glitch the Outlier, but Tarn the Decepticon.

    "When I joined the D.J.D. -- became Tarn -- I thought to myself, 'this is it.' This is my destiny. I was Megatron's instrument of destruction, enforcer of his will. I was the face of the Decepticon Empire.

    "But then... Megatron perished. The empire fell apart. My life, centered around a list of names, had become meaningless. My new beginning had reached its end... but who's to say it can't start again?

    "I no longer have to be Tarn. I can finally become who I was meant to be."

    Whirling back around, he pointed his fusion cannon at Shockwave and fired. The mono-eyed Decepticon vanished in an explosion of purple shrapnel.

    "I am Damus. And this... this is our new beginning."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars XII, Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

--England, Earth--

    "Rodimus! You're driving on the wrong side of the road!"

    The red sports car had barely heard Ultra Magnus over the blaring horn of the oncoming pickup. With a screech, he veered over to the left and joined the other Autobots in the proper lane. The other car zoomed past, its driver shouting a word that was no doubt rude in the human tongue.

    "What the hell were you doing?" reprimanded the white cab driving alongside Rodimus, carrying four other Autobots in its blue and red trailer.

    "I was driving on the right side of the road!" Rodimus replied. "I thought that was--"

    "That's only in America," said Arcee, driving ahead of the entourage in her motorcycle form. "Here, it's the left side."

    "Well, why change it? Why can't they pick a side and stick with it?"

    "Yeah, like Drift!" The red muscle car in Magnus' trailer roared with laughter.

    "You're a riot, Cliffjumper," Arcee muttered. "Now quiet down. We're nearly there."

    The convoy of Autobot cars continued down the highway. Fortunately, no further incidents occurred along the way and, even more fortunately, no one seemed to pay the strange assemblage of automobiles so much as a second glance. While the Autobots may have gone public, they didn't necessarily mean everyone was going to be cool with alien robots on their roads.

    Luckily, Brainstorm and Perceptor had thought ahead in that regard and had created modified holomatter avatars for them to utilize. These projections, now more reflective of their personalities to avoid what Brainstorm called the "uncanny valley", could now better interact with their environments and other humans. No one would even suspect of them being robots in disguise.

    "We're not all going into this 'pub' are we?" asked Cliffjumper as they came closer to their destination. "Not all of us are great at, er, 'human interaction.'"

    "Don't worry," Arcee said. "Only Rodimus, Bumblebee, Rewind and I are going in. You guys can wait outside; let us know if you or the others spot anything."

    "Will do," Magnus said as they drove up to the pub. "Good luck. And... try not to get into any trouble."

    "Relax, Mags," Rodimus said, his orange vest-wearing avatar emerging from his alt mode. "I'll keep an optic on them."

    Magnus said. "I was afraid of that...."

*  *  *

   "So. Ex-Decepticon, eh?"

    Despite being in jet mode, Stormshot was able to convey her discomfort at the question by accelerating her engines a bit. The other jet caught up to her, flying just below her wing.

    "Hey, relax. I'm not calling you out or anything," Jetfire said. "I just couldn't help but notice the faded insignia underneath your wings."

    A soft rumble emitted from Stormshot's engine. "Why do you care?" she muttered.

    "Because I can relate. I used to be one of them as well."

    "So I've heard. Don't pretend to think that puts us on equal footing."

    "Hey, I know it's probably a personal thing to ask," Jetfire replied. "I suppose it is easier for me since I defected not long after Megatron came into power, so I didn't have to worry about things like the D.J.D. or--"

    Without warning, Stormshot blasted ahead, moving at a speed which the much larger Jetfire could not keep up with. The white and red jet sighed to himself.

    "God, I need to learn when to keep my mouth shut."

*  *  *

    "Come on, Hound, there's nothing here."

    "Oh, so I'm just imagining that moldering ruin," the green Autobot replied, standing atop one of the Scottish Highlands many mountain ranges. "Guess I should get my optics checked then."

    Crosshairs grunted as he looked back at the abandoned castle, poised over a great lake. It was surrounded by fences and signs with urgent warnings. As far as he could tell, there was absolutely nothing of interest to the ruin.

    "It's not worth our time," Crosshairs said, turning back to return to the awaiting Sky Lynx. "Let's just keep looking. I don't think Magnus would have any interest in decrepit buildings."

    "Fine," Hound murmured, giving the castle one last look before following Crosshairs. Had either of them glanced back, they might have spotted an old, light blue Ford Anglia zip around the castle before retreating back into the foreboding forest whence it came.

*  *  *

    "Rodimus, I really don't think you should be drinking that much."

    "Relax, 'Bee," Rodimus said, setting down his foaming mug of beer. "Human fuels are nowhere near as inebriating as ours."

    "That's what I mean!" Bumblebee hissed, worry etched onto his avatar's face. "We're supposed to be pretending to be human! It is physically impossible for them to consume as much as you just did without passing out!"

    Rodimus grinned. "Maybe I'm just that good."

    "Excuse me, guys." A young blond-haired man sidled past them, raising a video camera to his face. "I need to record this."

    "Rewind, I'm pretty sure filming people without their knowledge is frowned upon here," Bumblebee said.

    "Too bad, because this is gonna be a historic moment."

    Both Autobots heard a yelp and turned to see a burly man with hairy arms withing in pain on the floor. Walking away from him was a tall woman in a leather jacket, blue highlights in her dark hair.

    "I didn't know humans could be so persistent," Arcee muttered.

    "What did you do to him?"

    "I assumed he was attacking me so I kicked him between the legs. Only thing I could think to do without my arm blades."

    "Well...." Bumblebee regarded the agonized man, who had since become the subject of jeers from the other patrons. "I wouldn't say you were wrong in your assumption."

    "So have you guys found anything?" Arcee asked, sitting down at their table. "Or am I the only one who cares about the mission?"

    Rodimus took another swig of beer before answering. "George says that there's a Sir Edmund Burton who lives at Folgan Castle, just on the edge of London."

    Arcee furrowed her eyebrows. "Who's George?"

    "The pub tender."

    "The tender? You asked the tender?"

    "Yeah. Who did you ask?"

    Arcee shook her head, sighing. "I doubt we'll get anywhere with Burton. Fowler made it sound like he was a nutcase."

    "Still, it's somethin. I mean, we have to start somewhere." After finishing his drink, Rodimus stood up from the table. "All right. Let's burn rubber."

    "Oi, mate!" the pot-bellied pub tender called out. "You gonna pay yer tab?"

    Rodimus flipped him a coin. "Keep the change, Georgey."

    With that, the four Autobots left the pub before George could stop them. "Hey!" he shouted. "American money ain't worth nothin' here! Get back here!"

*  *  *

    Stormshot wasn't sure where she was anymore, nor did she care. This entire mission was a waste; why did she even sign up for it?

    Picking up a stone, she tossed it into the lake. It landed with a loud ker-plunk and sprayed her with water. She kicked the dirt in frustration. How could humans makes stones skip so easily?

    Glancing up, she saw a winged object hovering in the sky. That was Jetfire, no doubt, come to get her. Or Sky Lynx. Maybe she could convince the shuttle to take her back to Autobot City; heck, maybe she could ask him to regale her with one of his stories to help pass the time. Primus knew he--

    She moved with a start as the object got closer. That ship was definitely not Sky Lynx or Jetfire. It was the Peaceful Tyranny.

    The Decepticon Justice Division were here.

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars XII, Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

--Autobot City--

    "All right, now just flip that switch. No, the other switch. That one. The one I'm pointing to. Look, just-- yes, that one!"

    Casting Wheeljack a weary glance, Perceptor flipped the necessary switch and a green portal materialized within the newly-constructed archway. Wheeljack then turned to the small audience he had gathered and spread his arms.

    "Walla! One GroundBridge to order!"

    "You've built these before, Jackie," said Bulkhead, his large green form looming over all those present. "It's nothing to celebrate about."

    "Personally, I'm celebrating the fact that it didn't blow up," remarked Arcee. "That's gotta be an accomplishment in of itself."

    Wheeljack rolled his eyes. "You guys kill me. So who wants to take it for a spin?"

    "We should probably wait for Prowl," said Bumblebee, checking his chrono. "I think he said he had a mission for us."

    "I do." Everyone turned to see two cars drive up to join them, transforming to robot modes. One was Prowl, the other a red and orange bot with flames on his chest.

    "Rodimus?" Bumblebee tilted his head. "What are you doing here?"

    "He and select members of his crew will be joining you on your mission," Prowl informed them. "We have... possibly pinpointed the location of Chromedome, who has been missing for a month now."

    "Don't tell me he's in Britain too," Bulkhead grunted. "'Cos that'd be way too convenient."

    "Not that we know of, no. However, our assumption is that Chromedome's been captured by Decepticons. As such, there's a chance any 'Cons you may encounter could lead you to Chromedome."

    "Great," Arcee said. "So we kill two avianoids with one stone. How many of us are going?"

    "Rodimus has selected nine Autobots to join your ten, making twenty all together," Prowl said. "Sky Lynx will be taking you, so technically that's twenty-one."

    Wheeljack shifted slightly. "Uh, I don't think Sky Lynx will be able to fit through the Ground Bridge."

    Prowl glanced at him. "Who said anything about the GroundBridge?"

    "But... but...." Wheeljack flailed his arms at his creation. "I just finished building it!"

    "Good. I'm sure it'll come in handy down the line. But I've already arranged for Sky Lynx to serve as transportation."

    Wheeljack sighed, his shoulders drooping. Bulkhead stepped over and patted him on the back, only to send the engineer flying into a wall. The green giant shrunk back and tapped his fingers together.

    "Sorry. My bad."

*  *  *

    "You're going?"

    "Of course I'm going, Brainstorm!" Rewind replied, walking ahead of the Autobot genius. "Chromedome's my sparkmate! I need to find him."

    "Right, right," Brainstorm said, looking disappointed. "It's just... I was really hoping we could compare notes."

    "Notes? Notes on what?"

    "See, I've been talking with Doomshot -- you know, the clone Megatron's head?" Brainstorm explained. "And a lot of his vague memories match with those of Sentinel Major, who just came out as Infinitus, herald of Nexus Prime."

    Rewind stopped to look up at him. "How does any of this concern me?"

    "You read up on the Thirteen at the Necrobot's place, didn't you? I was thinking maybe--"

    Brainstorm was cut off as Rewind produced a data slug from his arm and handed it to the scientist.

    "Here," Rewind said curtly. "It's all on there. Now if you don't mind, I have more important things to do."

    With that, the tiny archivist marched away, leaving behind a silent Brainstorm.

*  *  *

    "Trust me, Rung, we're doing everything we can to find Ariel and Protofor-- I mean, Rampage."

    "I do trust you, Springer," Rung said to the green-plated mech on his screen. "That's why I asked you to do this for me. I understand it's not quite your usual caliber of mission...."

    Springer grinned. "Hey, I owe you one, doc. Your assessments are always valued whenever it comes to recruiting Wreckers."

    "I would hope so," Rung said wryly. "I don't do them for no reason, you know."

    Springer chuckled. "I hear ya. I know that Impactor would often ignore 'em whenever he was desperate. Speaking of which, have you guys...?"

    Rung shook his head. "No, Springer. We have not heard from Impactor since Outpost One."

    "Just thought I'd check. Anyway, I'll call back in case we find anything."

    "Thank you, Springer. And good luck."

--Cybertron--

    "Was that Eyebrows?"

    Springer glanced at Kup as he ended the call. "Rung," he corrected the older mech.

    "Rung, sorry." Kup chewed on his cy-gar. "It's funny; I've known him for thousands of years yet I can never get his name right. Heh, I remember one time -- I think it was Cycle 9240 -- we were stationed on Cygnus Alpha-5 and--"

    "Kup," Springer promptly interjected.

    "Sorry, sorry." Kup removed the cy-gar from his mouth and flicked off flakes of synthetic energon. "So you didn't tell him about...?"

    Springer shook his head. "No," he said as he watched Roadbuster and Guzzle pull apart another wall of the abandoned Academy of Advanced Technologies, revealing yet another hidden room filled with lifeless chassis and frightening bits of equipment. Nearby, Ironfist attended to a trembling Ariel and an irate Rampage.

    "Yeah," Kup grunted, pulling out a fresh new cy-gar from a hip compartment. "This is definitely something to wait on."

*  *  *

    "Let me see him."

    "Sir, I need proper identification."

    Metalhawk glared at the white-plated Autotrooper guard, indistinguishable from all the others stationed on Cybertron. A remnant of Sentinel Prime's Cybertron. A remnant that Optimus Prime should have done away centuries ago.

    "What's your name, soldier?" Metalhawk asked the faceless mook.

    "AT-1033, sir," the trooper dutifully responded.

    "Your name," Metalhawk repeated with more emphasis. "Surely you weren't named with a random string of numbers."

    The Autotrooper shifted on her feet slightly, clearly taken aback by the request. "Aura," she said after a moment. "Aura of Iacon."

    Metalhawk nodded as he showed her his ID. "Metalhawk of Archon. Pleasure to meet you, Aura."

    After being given clearance, Metalhawk proceeded into the corridor. Only one of the twelve cells was occupied, situated at the very end of the hall, out of Aura's hearing range. A single figure sat behind the ray shield that separated him and his visitor.

    A long moment of silence passed. The prisoner did not so much as even acknowledge the councilor's presence. Eventually, Metalhawk decided to be the first to speak.

    "Hello, Bludgeon."

    "Autobots are not worthy of my attention," the Decepticon warrior said darkly, keeping his head lowered.

    Metalhawk frowned. "I am no Autobot. I haven't worn their bade in nearly a millennium."

    "Still, you were one of them. You once stood with Sentinel Prime. You are undeserving of my respect."

    "I didn't come here for your respect. I came here for this." Raising a hand to his helm, Metalhawk beamed an ultraviolet light through the ray shield and onto the floor of Bludgeon's cell. Uncovered by the ray was the crudely carved mark of Thunderwing's face.

    Finally, Bludgeon lifted his gaze. "How did you know?"

    Metalhawk smirked. "Because I've heard him too, Bludgeon. I've heard the call."

    Bludgeon continued to stare at him for another moment before speaking again. "So it is time then?"

    Metalhawk couldn't help but chuckle at that particular choice of words. "Yes," he said. "It is time."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars XII, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

    "It's a simple enough proposal."

    Tarn stared through the slits of his mask at the three figures standing before him. The one addressing him was his former teacher Shockwave, identifiable by his purple armor and singular optic. To his left was Soundwave, sporting a sleeker, more all-terrain form than he was generally known for. Both Decepticons, last Tarn knew, had perished not too long ago. Of course, he hadn't been present for either of their deaths, so who was he to assume?

    Then there was the large, hulking mech who stood behind the pair, his face concealed by a battle mask. He believed Shockwave had identified the bot to be the Fallen, otherwise known as Megatronus. Tarn refused to believe that; the Fallen was no more real than the Primes he was alleged to have betrayed.

    Deathsaurus, on the other hand, was staring in awe at the pretender Prime. Tarn wasn't surprised; during the Silver Age, Deathsaurus had been a warlord of the Destrons, a faction made from tribes that still refused to acknowledge the rule of Nova Prime. While Deathsaurus had not been a Darklander, he still worshiped Megatronus for his close friendship with his tribe's own Prime. Right no, Deathsaurus looked ready to drop to his knees in reverence.

    It was disgusting. Had he known a warlord as decorated as Deathsaurus subjected himself to others so easily, Tarn would have sought an alliance elsewhere.

    "The Decepticons are on the verge of fading away," Shockwave was saying. "Megatron has renounced his ideals. Many Decepticons have ceased fire and are living among the Autobots in peace."

    "Forget them," Tarn said indignantly. "Those who do not uphold the Decepticon vision are not worthy of recognition."

    "Ah, a patriot," the Fallen remarked, his voice old and grating. "Megatron must be so proud."

    "Don't you dare speak that name!" Tarn snapped, glaring daggers at the alleged Prime. "He has betrayed the Decepticon Empire! Betrayed everything we've built!"

    The Fallen chuckled. "I guess we have more than just a name in common."

    Tarn's hands rolled into fists. "Don't flatter yourself. Megatron took on his name to instill fear, not out of any foolish belief."

    "I'm amused that you think I care."

    Tarn shifted his optics to Shockwave. "Do you really expect us to pledge our loyalty to him?"

    "It's not a question of loyalty, Tarn," the cyclopian Decepticon replied. "It's simply a matter of his goals advancing ours. An alliance would be beneficial to all parties involved."

    "I should clarify that I could easily do without any of you," the Fallen said. "Just so you know."

    Tarn narrowed his optics. "I remain unconvinced."

    Deathsaurus stepped forward. "You and your band are free to forge your own paths," he said to Tarn. "I, on the other hand, pledge my forces to you, Megatronus."

    Tarn stared at him in disbelief. "You can't be serious. We had a deal!"

    "A deal which has done nothing for either of us," Deathsaurus replied. "I have faith that Megatronus will produce results."

    "Stop calling him that!" Tarn roared. "He is not worthy of the name!"

    The Fallen laughed. "I'm not worthy of any name, according to those who bestowed me my moniker. But you have a point there; 'Megatronus' was never my true name."

    "I don't care if your true name is Trannis; I refuse to acknowledge your authority!"

    "A shame." The Fallen looked over to Deathsaurus. "Are you in command of this vessel?"

    "Yes, my liege," the warlord replied.

    "So you have every power necessary to send this Tarn and his followers out the airlock, correct?"

    Before Deathsaurus could answer, Tarn raised his fusion cannon at him. "Don't you dare," he hissed.

    Deathsaurus smirked. "Do you honestly think I'm intimidated by you, Tarn?"

    "I've killed many a warlord. You're hardly the first."

    "This is why the Decepticons are failing," Soundwave lamented, his speech drawing the attention of all present. "We fight each other as much as we fight the Autobots. If we didn't, we would have won the war centuries ago."

    "Thank you, someone else who gets it." Deathsaurus glanced back at Tarn. "You won't accomplish anything by killing me. Do so, and you'll have all my men to worry about."

    "Legions have fallen to the D.J.D.," Tarn boasted. "Your troops will pose no threat."

    "And me, Tarn?" The Fallen raised his arm so that Tarn was now staring down the barrel of the Requiem Blaster. "Do you see me as a threat?"

    Tarn stared at the masked Prime. "You're a pretender."

    "A pretender with a weapon that can bring Titans to their knees. Your point?"

    For a pressing moment, neither mech moved, keeping their weapons trained on their respective targets. Eventually, Tarn lowered his arm, still glaring at the Fallen. The ancient Prime smirked as he followed suit.

    "How do I have any guarantee that your goals will restore our empire to glory?" Tarn asked.

    The Fallen chuckled. "My goal is not to restore your empire but Cybertron itself. How that serves you is none of my concern. Like I said, I don't need any of you to accomplish my plans."

    At this, Tarn glanced at Shockwave, who simply inclined his head. Instead, it was Soundwave who spoke.

    "What you must understand, Tarn, is that there are greater powers at work. The Fallen is the only one of those powers whose vision aligns with our own. If we have any hope of restoring our glory, the Fallen's way is our only chance."

    "How nice of you to say so, Logos," the Fallen commented. "Now I see why the other doted on you."

    Soundwave tensed but did not rise to the Prime's taunt.

    Tarn exchanged a glance with Deathsaurus before returning his attention to the trio. With a sigh of defeat, the D.J.D. leader crossed his arms.

    "Fine. We'll work with you. But only for the Decepticon Empire, not for this... pretender."

    Shockwave nodded. "Good. Now we can quickly move to our next item on the agenda."

    "And that would be...?"

    "We are to locate the Void Scepter," Soundwave said. "We believe it is--"

    "I'm sorry," Tarn interrupted. "Locate the what?"

    "The Void Scepter," Deathsaurus murmured. "It was used by Mortilus to summon the Titan Trypticon during his clash with the Guiding Hand."

    "Oh, for crying out...." Tarn ran a servo down his faceplate, sighing in exasperation. "This had better all be worth it."

    "Oh, it should be," the Fallen said. "Fortunately, I already know where the Scepter should be located."

    Deathsaurus inclined his head. "And that is?"

    "Some planet in the Neutral Territories, far beyond the borders of any intergalactic faction. The organic natives, simple-minded as they are, give it the very descriptive name... of Earth."

*  *  *

    Elsewhere on Deathsaurus' vessel, Nitro Zeus was having the time of his life.

    The past month had been life-threateningly boring. All this talk about 'revenge' and 'agendas' made his head spin. He hadn't even asked to be pulled into all of this (although it certainly beat floating around in space).

    But now? He was living the dream! In all his years with the Decepticons, he had never been on a Warworld before. He had heard of them, of course, but ever since most of the fleet was wiped out by Black Shadow, they had become the thing of legends. Legends that failed to do them justice.

    No other warship in the Decepticon fleet had this wide a selection of energon, or had chairs softer than a Brobdingnag cat, or attractive bots that fawned over him as he regaled them with life's stories.

    He didn't care if Deathsaurus joined the Fallen or not. He was staying here.

    "So why do they call you Nitro Zeus?" cooed a white and teal Decepticon (Lyzack, was it?), her arms draped around Nitro's shoulders.

    He chuckled. "Honestly? So that people didn't confuse me with that Velocitron guy. He had just won the Speedia when I was making the rounds."

    "Ah, who cares about those lubed-up losers!" said some orange mech (Jack-Knife?). "That Nitro didn't body-slam Springer from 250 feet, did he?"

    "Hey now, some of my best friends are from Velocitron!" Nitro took a swig of Vixco, his seventeenth glass so far. "Okay, not really. But still, you gotta admit... Nitro Zeus sounds so much cooler."

    "It sure does!" roared a blue and white 'Con. "It's even better than Killbison!"

    "Oi!" snapped a gold and white mech with the same body-type. "Why don't you shove that drill o' yours up your afterburner, slag-licker."

    "Now, now," Nitro Zeus said, waving his hand. "It ain't a contest. We can all have cool names. In fact, we should form a club!"

    "Hell yeah!" A purple and green bot pumped his fist in the air. "That would be so awesome! It would be Nitro Zeus, Killbison, Deathcobra...."

    "Oh, don't forget Sinnertwin!" called out another Decepticon. "And Ruination!"

    "And Slayride!" offered another. "Wait, he's dead, isn't he?"

    "Those are all great names," Nitro Zeus said. "But I feel that, as a community, we should--"

    "Thunderwing!"

    Nitro blinked. "Uh... isn't he dead, too?"

    "No, look!" Everyone turned to see a red 'Con with wide shoulder pads standing near the wall. Burned onto it, as if with some kind of torch, was a symbol that very much resembled the visage of the long-dead Decepticon scientist. Below it, in crudely drawn Cybertronix, was the phrase Adapt. Evolve. Survive.

    Nitro Zeus sunk lower into his chair, pretending to be less unsettled than he actually was. "I mean... he can join too if he wants...."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars XII, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

--Autobot City, Earth--

    "Is something troubling you, Rodimus?"

    The red and orange bot kept his back turned to Optimus Prime, arms folded as he stared out the window. Below, Autobots were still hard at work on getting Autobot City up to standards. Seeing as it was made from the Titan Metrotitan, it had looked a little worse for wear due to the Terrorcons' assault on Theophany several months ago. Only a month had passed since landing and already it was looking light years better....

    "Rodimus?"

    The former captain of the Lost Light exvented, still not turning to face Optimus. "It's been one month, Prime."

    "Yes?"

    "Look, I understand why you needed me to inform Cybertron of everything that's happened and to get things up and running here."

    "And yet...."

    Rodimus finally turned around to face the Autobot leader, who was seated at his desk. "Chromedome is still missing, Prime. A month has gone by and we still don't know where or when he is. He could be meddling with the universe itself for all we know!"

    Optimus steepled his fingers. "And how do you suggest we even try to look for him?"

    "I don't know, but sitting on our afts certainly isn't doing anything!" Rodimus snapped. "I apologize for my language, but I can't just stand around doing nothing when one of my crew is possibly -- most likely -- definitely in danger!"

    "I understand, Rodimus," Optimus said evenly. "Believe me, I do. But before we can even begin to spend our resources, we need to know what direction we're putting them in. For that, we need to have an idea on where -- or when, as you say -- Chromedome could be."

    "Rewind thinks he's gone after Dominus Ambus," Rodimus muttered.

    "Dominus Ambus? As in the Ambus Test Dominus?"

    "Yup. He used to be Rewind's sparkmate before he went missing. He and Chromedome have spent centuries searching for him; even the Necrobot wasn't sure of his true fate. When we found those of the Necrobot's Disappeared in stasis, Dominus wasn't among them. So Chromedome took Brainstorm's time case and... vanished."

    Optimus kept silent as he listened to Rodimus. Once the younger Autobot was finished, Prime lifted his head up to stare at him. "Does Prowl know about any of this?"

    Rodimus blinked. "What?"

    "Prowl. Have you spoken to him about this?"

    "I -- no. I haven't spoken to him at all since Necroworld. Why?"

    "I may be leader of the Autobots, but even I don't know every single bot who's served under my command," Optimus said, rising up. "But Prowl does. The Secret Service maintains a comprehensive database of every Autobot, active or inactive. If anyone knows where Dominus may be, it's Prowl."

    "Um, right. Good." Rodimus refrained from showing his displeasure in having to speak with Prowl. He didn't get along well with authority figures in general, but Prime at least was relaxed and reasonable. Prowl, not so much. "Where will I find him?" he then asked.

    "In the command center with Agent Fowler. Let me know if you find out anything."

    "Yeah, sure," Rodimus muttered, turning to leave. "I'm sure he'll be a wealth of information...."

*  *  *

    "You seem troubled, Agent Fowler."

    William Fowler tightened his grip on the railing of the mobile platform he was on. He kept his eyes fixed on the giant screen in front of him, repeatedly telling himself to not look down. He could feel the Autobot Prowl staring at him, regarding him like some curious specimen.

    "You seem to be displaying symptoms of anxiety," Prowl observed. "Do you require medical attention?"

    "No!" Fowler snapped. "I'm fine. Just... never been on a hovering platform before."

    "Wheeljack assures me it is completely stable."

    "Yeah. Yeah, I bet he does." Fowler took a deep breath before nodding to the screen, which was currently on a map of the United Kingdom. "Why we looking at the Brits?"

    "Our Sky Spies have detected traces of Cybertronian signatures around this area," Prowl explained. "We're still trying to pinpoint the exact location."

    Fowler chewed on his lip. "I've heard scuttlebutt of an old coot who lives down there. Claims to be an Earl of some kind. He's been in Sector Seven's hair for years."

    "How so?"

    "He frequently pesters museums across the globe for their exhibits, claiming them to be 'alien invaders.' No one's ever believed him, of course, but we've had to silence him once or twice."

    "What's his name?"

    "Edmund Burton. Sir Edmund Burton," Fowler corrected himself. "Last anyone's heard from him was four years ago when he kicked up a fuss at the Royal Wedding."

    "I have no idea what that is," Prowl stated.

    Fowler waved a hand. "It's not important."

    "Yeah, what is important is a fellow Autobot's well-being."

    Prowl and Fowler both turned to see a red and orange bot briskly enter the command center, his eyes fixed on the former.

    "Rodimus," Prowl said coolly. "What seems to be the matter?"

    Rodimus regarded him with an equal amount of iciness. "Dominus Ambus is what's the matter."

    Prowl's posture stiffened. Fowler hadn't even realized robots could do that.

    "What about Dominus Ambus?" the police car bot asked, his voice frighteningly quiet.

    "You would know, wouldn't you?" Rodimus went on, sounding borderline interrogative. "About what happened to him, where he could've gone."

    "Rodimus, Dominus Ambus has been missing for nearly half a millennium. If I knew, then--"

    "Then what? I wouldn't be asking? Sorry, but that defense doesn't work when you're concerned, Prowl. You keep secrets like Dinobots keep grudges."

    Fowler wasn't sure whether or not to speak at this point. Instead, he simply crossed his arms and watched things unfold. At least it kept his mind off the platform.

    "What are you insinuating?" Prowl demanded.

    "I'm saying that you and your Secret Service have done some shady scrap," Rodimus replied. "Does Tyrest ring any bells?"

    "Okay, fine. But why do you think I would know about Dominus Ambus?"

    "You know every Autobot, active or not. Even if you don't know where he is, wouldn't you at least know where he last was?"

    Prowl stared at Rodimus for a moment, his optics clearly searching the latter's face. Finally, with an even tone, he said, "Dominus Ambus is dead."

    Rodimus smirked. "Wrong. The Necrobot had him listed as one of his Disappeared. If he was dead, the Necrobot would know."

    "Then he knows more than I do," Prowl said, shaking his head. "I haven't heard from Dominus in six years."

    "Oh yeah? Where was he then?"

    "Behind enemy lines. He was our mole in the Decepticon Justice Division."

    Rodimus froze. "You mean... Dominus is Agent 113?"

    Prowl lifted an optic ridge. "You're aware of Agent 113?"

    "Yeah... we found one of his messages in Swerve's shoulder. It's how we found the Necrobot's planet in the first place." Rodimus took a step back, still looking dumbfounded. "This is... this is heavy. Rewind's not going to like this one bit."

    Prowl's mouth fell open. His entire frame seemed to stiffen again. After a moment, he said, "This has to do with Chromedome, doesn't it?"

    "Brilliant," Rodimus said dryly. "Your detective skills are on par with Nightbeat's."

    Prowl nodded. "All right. I see where you're going with this." He turned to Fowler. "Do you mind if I leave?"

    Fowler glanced up at him, not at all sure what in the name of Abe Lincoln was going on. "Not as long as you show me how to get down from this thing," he said, suddenly realizing how sweaty his palms had become. "I think I'll hurl if I stay up here a minute longer...."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars XII, Prologue

PROLOGUE

Crosswise's Log. Entry #611. Cycle 9815

    I'm not one to usually call for help. Not my style, you know? If I can't handle something on my own, then I should've never been chosen for the mission. And I'm sure as hell not gonna question someone like Prowl, or any of the higher-ups.

    But these past few days have taken a turn for the strange, needless to say. I'm not saying I need help per se... I just need a second opinion on assessing the situation.

    Let's backtrack a bit, shall we? A little over two months ago, Prowl sent me to Earth to dig into the Machination fiasco. Didn't find much other than some weird fiber experiments. Beyond that, nothing crazy.

    A month later, this whole Secret Order stuff went down. Prowl kept me out for most of it; all I know is that Megatron's suddenly alive again and is now on our side or something. Also, Starscream's on our new High Council. 'Course, you probably already knew that....

    So Prime comes back to Cybertron, tells us Shockwave has got things afoot as well as some ancient dudes apparently, so we've got that going on. But it doesn't stop there, no. Next thing I know, Sector Seven's opened up about knowing us Autobots and all of a sudden we've gone public. Luckily, most of the humans seem pretty chill with us... so long as we keep our presence on the down low.

    As of a few weeks ago, we've established a base of operations -- Autobot City, Prime calls it -- in response to reports of rogue Transformers. Decepticons, Machination experiments... and beasts. Yeah, beasts. Don't know where that came from, but now I'm hunting for them.

    Yeah. It's been crazy.

    Now as for why I'm calling... look, Evac, you and I go way back, yeah? Remember Centaris Seven, Cycle 9203? I pulled you out of Corroder's chamber? Well, now I need you to return the favor.

    I'm lost without ya, pal. I hate saying it, but it's true. I'm surrounded by bots who are either too formal to express themselves or too relaxed to get bothered by things. I need someone with their head properly screwed on.

    So, yeah, whenever you get the chance. Crosswise out.

    Postscript: By the way, are you aware of another bot running around with your name? Some M.T.O., I think. Blue armored car. Same spelling and everything. I mean, I know good names can be hard to come by, but at least some bots try to change it up to make themselves stand out. Like Blackout and Black-Out. And Black Out.

    Okay, bad example.

HELLO CRUEL WORLD

Part I: Ordinary World

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars XI, Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

    Fangwolf was a capable warrior and sentry, but horrible at keeping secrets. He respected Primal far too much to withhold information from him, and thus easily let slip the fact that his team and three others had gone in search of Tigatron, despite Leo Prime's orders for them to wait until morning.

    Primal was hardly surprised, of course. In fact, if Leo Prime had not kept him preoccupied, he would have led the effort himself. As it was, he was now simply late to the party.

    He had taken Fangwolf with him to the site of the Fur Walker camp, figuring that would have been Airazor's first stop. After being pointed in the right direction by Fangwolf's acute senses, Primal was now on his way to rejoin his fellow Maximals.

    The commander side of him wanted to be mad at his comrades for disobeying orders. But that was quickly and easily surpassed by the Primal side of him; the side that was worried for their well-being. The side that would sacrifice anything to save them.

    It did not take him long to find the dormant Titan. Not wasting a single second on pondering at its presence, Primal went through the open door and hastily made his way through the dungeons....

*  *  *

    "Rhinox, behind you!"

    The larger Maximal could barely hear Diablo over the sound of his guns and had only a second to dodge the massive Insecticon's swinging fist. An energon-curdling roar ripped from Razorhorn's vocal processor as he lunged again, extending his claws to slash the Maximal across the chest.

    Rhinox staggered back but was otherwise unfazed as he fired his rotary guns onto the Insecticon. Distracted by the barrage of pellets, it bought Diablo enough time to pounce upon Razorhorn's back. The Insecticon screamed as the marsupial Maximal proceeded to dig his claws into his enemy's visor, gouging out his optics.

    Permanently blinded, Razorhorn flailed helplessly as Rhinox continued to fire on him. In moments, the Insecticon was brought down, energon leaking from every cavity. Diablo hopped down from his massive form with a wide grin on his face.

    "That was cool."

    Rhinox gave him a disapproving look but decided now was not the time to reprimand the young Maximal for his blood-lust. "There's more where that came from," he said instead, acknowledging the swarm of Insecticons that were continuing to flood in.

    "Good." Diablo bared his claws. "I can't wait to do that again."

    Shaking his head, Rhinox looked to see how his fellow Maximals were faring. Airazor had blades locked with a purple Insecticon swordsman; Cheetor and Wolfang were doubling up to tackle another Insecticon of Razorhorn's model; Sonar was in the middle of clawing out the optics of a hapless grasshopper; and Rattrap....

    Where was Rattrap?

    Before he could even begin searching for his rodent comrade, Rhinox heard a scream and turned to see Diablo standing there, the sharp end of a blade jutting from his chest. Behind the small Maximal stood a tall, dark figure, his image fading in and out like a phantom.

    A malicious grin was the last thing Rhinox saw of Shadow Raker before the Insecticon removed his blade and vanished from view, letting Diablo crumple lifelessly to the floor. Rhinox belted out a roar of rage as he let loose with his guns, firing all around him....

*  *  *

    "So much for that plan...."

    Rattrap grunted as he dragged Bantor's injured form down the corridor, away from the action. The Fuzor was missing both of his lower legs, having lost them to the razor-sharp pincers of some monstrosity of an Insecticon. A trail of energon was left in his wake as Rattrap pulled him around the corner and propped him up against the wall.

    "All right," Rattrap said, straightening up. "You stay here while I fine somethin' to patch you up with."

    Bantor smirked in spite of his condition. "It's funny. Just a few minutes ago, you were ready to blast my head off."

    "Yeah, well... that stunt you pulled back there, savin' my hide... that proved to me you're a true Maximal."

    "Really?"

    "I mean, it was still stupid of ya, but... honestly?" Rattrap shrugged. "I think all of us are stupid just for simply existing."

    "Cynical as ever."

    Rattrap jumped as he turned to see a familiar white and teal mech coming from down the hall, accompanied by two others.

    "Tigatron?" Rattrap cracked a wide grin. "Well, that didn't take long. Glad to see you're okay."

    Tigatron nodded. "Likewise. Are the others here as well?"

    Before Rattrap could answer, Cheetor flew into the wall behind him, followed shortly by Wolfang. Their Insecticon opponent lunged at them only to be tackled from behind by Rhinox.

    "Never mind then," Tigatron murmured.

    "I don't have time for this," scoffed the gold and black spider-bot that had followed him here. "If it's all the same to you, I'll leave you to your fight while I find my way out of here."

    Tigatron frowned at her. "We had a deal, Blackarachnia."

    "You have your way out of here. I have mine." The spider grabbed the blocky gray mech by the arm. "Just be glad I didn't change my mind about sparing you."

    With that, she turned to leave with Cerebros, but the Autobot did not budge. Scowling, she shot a glare at him.

    "Come on. You're my ticket out of here."

    Still Cerebros did not respond. The others were staring at him as well, not even noticing the battle still going on behind them.

    "Cerebros?" Tigatron asked quietly. "What's wrong?"

    "He's talking to me," the Autobot murmured.

    Blackarachnia scoffed, letting go of his arm. "Great, he's lost it. I knew I should've just done this on my own."

    Ignoring her, Tigatron stepped up to Cerebros. "Who's talking to you?"

    "The Titan." Cerebros looked up at the Maximal, fear in his eyes. "He wants to wake up."

*  *  *

    "Well, this is just Prime."

    Kick Back let out a yelp as Primal dug his two blades into the green Insecticon's shoulders, pinning him in place. Straightening up, the Maximal commander deployed an arm-mounted gun and shot down the two Insecticons that had Airazor and Sonar cornered.

    As the remaining bugs proceeded to flee, Primal set his optics on the large Insecticon that was wrestling with Rhinox. Retrieving one of his blades, he kicked on his jet pack and flew straight for the Crawler, driving the blade into its face.

    The Insecticon fell with a crash as Primal landed gracefully on his feet, sheathing his weapons. He then looked to the other five Maximals as they all got back up, faces struck with awe... and fear. He let out a sigh as he regarded Airazor carefully.

    "I'll save the reprimands for after we're out of this mess," he said. "Right now... where's Rattrap?"

    "Here." The gray and gold Maximal waved from an adjacent corridor. "Tigatron's here as well."

    The others rushed over to join him. Upon seeing Tigatron, Airazor flew straight for him and launched herself into his arms.

    "You're alive!" she cried out.

    Tigatron smiled as he returned the hug. "Good to see you too, love."

    Leaving the two to their reunion, Primal shifted his attention to see the other two bots that were present, in particular the one with the Autobot insignia.

    "And who would you be?"

    The mech said nothing, instead turning heel and running down the hall. Blackarachnia let out a snarl as she slung a web at him, rooting him to the floor.

    "Let me go!" he cried.

    "Not until you explain yourself," Blackarachnia hissed. "You promised you would get me out of here."

    "I can't! The Titan wants to be awakened. If I do that, Chela will know and we'll all be dead!"

    "What grievance would Chela have with a fellow Titan?" Tigatron asked, breaking away from Airazor. "Non-Eukarians, I understand, but Titans? As I understand it, they all have a close connection among one another."

    "It's not Chela herself that we should be worried about," Cerebros murmured. "It's her master."

    Rhinox stiffened. "Onyx Prime? But... shouldn't he be dead by now?"

    "No. He's still alive. He and the other Primes... they're on the rise."

    "How do you know this?" Primal asked.

    Cerebros started to answer only to immediately seize up. "No!"

    "What is it?" Tigatron asked.

    "The space bridge..." Cerebros turned to them in alarm. "It's been activated!"

*  *  *

    Now that was strange.

    Airachnid did not recall ever activating the Titan's space bridge, yet somehow there it was, glowing brightly in the night. Considering it was a long way back to the control room, she decided it would be better to examine it up close. Perhaps there was a manual switch of some sort....

    Emerging on the Titan's surface, she spotted a pair of figures standing near the device itself, their back turned to her. Moving slowly and quietly, she increased her audio sensors' reach to pick up on any frequencies she could detect.

    "--rious moment," one was saying.

    "Indeed," said the other. "One that has been over seven thousand years in the making. We should be honored to play such an important role in the forging of this new era."

    "We are honored."

    Airachnid started to move closer only to suddenly find herself unable to move. One of the two figures turned around, a hand stretched out to her.

    "As should you."

    An invisible force pulled Airachnid forward, drawing her into the grip of the tall, white and blue figure, his massive wings encapsulating her.

    "It is clear Onyx Prime chose you to give us life," the large Fuzor said. "It is as the stars foretold: You have weaved the web of fate that shall pull all of our destinies together."

    She glared at her creation with baleful eyes. "Are you still spouting that nonsense of yours, Tigerhawk? Is that how you've gotten the others to follow you?"

    Tigerhawk smirked as he glanced at his companion. "What do the stars say of her fate now, Noctorro?"

    The other Fuzor flashed a grin from his scarlet face. "It shall be decided on the other side."

    "Very well." Tigerhawk smiled as he looked back at Airachnid. "No need to be so apprehensive, my friend. All of our fates are in good hands now."

    Unable to do anything else, Airachnid screamed as they were all consumed by light.

*  *  *

    "What is going on?!"

    Gnashteeth stormed down the front steps of the Predacon fortress. Before his eyes, a tempest of energy swirled between the twin prongs of the Talon Valley space bridge. It was not at all like anything he had seen before.

    "Who activated the space bridge?" he bellowed. "Only I have the activating codes!"

    "The space bridge is not yours to command." Standing in front of the device were two Eukarians Gnashteeth did not recognize, both bearing bizarre features. The one speaking to him was green and blue with features of both a lizard and a dragonfly. "It belongs to all of Eukaris."

    Gnashteeth sneered at them. "You dare question my command? I am Eukaris' rightful ruler! All of it belongs to me!"

    "No," the other Eukarian said, a permanent grin on his bulbous head. "Only Onyx is supreme."

    Onyx? Gnashteeth opened his mouth to speak only to be cut off by a loud cackle.

    "Oh, this is just brilliant," Tarantulas said, clapping his hands. "If only Prowl could see this now. He would be so incredibly jealous."

    Gnashteeth whirled on him. "Do you know anything about this?!"

    Tarantulas chuckled. "Let me put it this way: You should actually be grateful for this."

    "Why?!" Gnashteeth snarled.

    "This is a much better way to conquer the world."

    The Predacon leader could only stare at him in confusion as behind him the space bridge exploded in a blast of energy.

    When the sun rose again, not a single soul remained on the world of Eukaris.

TO BE CONTINUED

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars XI, Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

    "Who is this?" Tigatron asked as Blackarachnia helped the gray bot out of the hidden compartment.

    "He calls himself Cerebros," the Predacon replied. "He was already here when Airachnid moved in."

    Tigatron looked Cerebros up and down, noticing a red insignia on the bot's chest. "You're an Autobot?" he asked the mech.

    "Yes," Cerebros said, speaking softly. He looked over to Blackarachnia. "You said you'd be back soon."

    "Airachnid caught wind of my plotting," Blackarachnia muttered. "She tossed me into a dungeon before I could get anywhere near the control room."

    "That's not good," Cerebros said. "Now it will be even more different to make a second attempt."

    Tigatron shook his head. "I'm sorry, can you two please clue me in here?"

    Cerebros glanced at Blackarachnia. "Can he be trusted?" he asked.

    "More than me," replied the spider.

    Nodding, Cerebros turned to face Tigatron. "This fortress is a Titan," the Autobot explained. "I arrived on this world with it about a month ago, although I was forced to put us both into stasis to evade this planet's anti-Eukarian defenses."

    "And so you allowed Airachnid to move in?" Tigatron asked.

    "Yes," Cerebros said glumly. "I didn't even know about it until Blackarachnia here found me."

    "Purely on accident," the Predacon was quick to add.

    "And she helped you?" Tigatron questioned.

    "I had long grown tired of working for the witch," Blackarachnia said. "I wanted to get off this planet any which way I could."

    "All Titans have a space bridge," Cerebros said. "I've been trying to help her get there without Airachnid noticing. So much for that...."

    Tigatron frowned. "Can't you command the Titan to just fly off of Eukaris?"

    Cerebros shook his head. "That'll awaken Chela, and we'd all be in a far worse situation than before."

    "Does Airachnid have any control over the Titan?"

    "She only cares about her labs," Blackarachnia said. "She might be using the space bridge to acquire resources, but beyond that...."

    "So she doesn't know we're in here?"

    "Not unless she's in the control room," Cerebros muttered.

    Tigatron nodded. "Right. No problem then."

    Blackarachnia sneered at him. "What do you mean 'no problem?'"

    "I've lived on Eukaris for nearly two thousand years. This situation we're in right now? No different than the jungle. We just need to utilize stealth and avoid the Insecticons as much as we can."

    "In case you haven't notice, Maximal, we're in a fortress, not a jungle. We can't exactly use foliage as disguise here."

    "Then we improvise. Adaption is key to survival."

    Rolling her eyes, Blackarachnia glanced at Cerebros. "Please don't tell me this makes any sense to you."

    "It doesn't," the Autobot admitted. "But then again, nothing for the past two months have made sense to me."

*  *  *

    Things were quiet in the Predacon fortress. This upset Tarantulas greatly; he so longed for the days at his former base, where he had tortured his prisoners for endless hours. While Gnashteeth had promised to let him play with anyone who was still loyal to Cryotek, the spider had yet to get his pincers on any potential subjects.

    At this point, he was practically craving for those screams of agony....

    Outside, he could see the space bridge of Talon Valley. It had been switched off for the night to prevent any Predacons from getting bright ideas. Only Gnashteeth had the code to activate it again... but Tarantulas didn't need codes to turn it back on.

    He knew what the Predacon leader was planning to use it for; what his intended destination was. But the goal itself was of no use to someone like Tarantulas. What scientific use could a myth possibly have?

    Oh, but there was far more to the world that laid beyond the space bridge than what Gnashteeth was after. So much more. Seven and a half billion more, to be precise.

    Tarantulas felt himself salivating at the mouth. The wait, he could safely assume, was going to be well worth it.

*  *  *

    "This is it."

    The seven Maximals came to a stop at the location Bantor had brought them to. The fortress stood far taller than any they were accustomed to, surpassing even that of the Predacons' original fortress. In fact, in some ways, it looked far more like a city than a fortress, with a number of towers stretching up through the forest canopy.

    "Jumping gyros," Cheetor murmured in amazement. "This looks like something straight out of Backstop's tales."

    "In a way, it is," Bantor said, smiling slightly. "If I'm not mistaken, this is what one would call a Titan."

    "Impossible," Sonar whispered. "Chela is the Titan of Eukaris. How can there be another?"

    "Your guess is as good as mine." Moving over to the Titan's outer wall, Bantor parted a few pieces of botanical growth to reveal a hidden door. "This is the only entrance I could find."

    "Have you been inside?" Wolfang asked.

    Bantor hesitated for a moment. "Once," he murmured. "I didn't exactly get further than the first room."

    "Why not?" Airazor asked.

    "Well...." The Fuzor sighed as he opened the door. "Let me just show you."

    The Maximals followed him in and immediately saw what had Bantor unsettled. Various limbs and parts were scattered all around the dungeon they had entered. Incomplete bodies hung from the walls while severed heads dangled from the ceiling on chains. All of them were Eukarian, whether they be Fur, Scale, Cloud, or Wave Walkers or any of the other tribes.

    "This is where she disposes the failures," Bantor said quietly, keeping his optics to the floor. "She keeps them around in case she needs to salvage their materials."

    "Was this where you were made?" Airazor asked, examining a deceased Scale Walker with wings patched onto them.

    "No, she only moved into this place recently. I was made long before then, after she returned to Eukaris."

    Rhinox glanced at the Fuzor. "Returned?"

    "She was exiled during Magmatron's reign," Bantor explained. "As I understand it, she was with the Decepticons for some time, where she was able to acquire a large amount of resources and materials."

    "And what was her name again?"

    "Airachnid."

    All seven Maximals tensed. Diablo and Sonar scowled while Wolfang bowed his head. Rattrap and Cheetor shifted uncomfortably. Rhinox looked over to Airazor, who was standing stock still.

    "I take it you've heard of her?" Bantor remarked.

    "It would appear so, although I imagine all our stories are different." Rhinox turned back to the Fuzor. "In any case, I believe our situation has become much more clearer now that we know who is behind all of this."

    "So you have a plan then?"

    "Somewhat." The Maximal rhino drew out a pair of gatling guns. "It's rather straightforward...."

    Bantor grinned. "Straightforward is how I like it."

*  *  *

    Purple optics stared at the wide array of viewscreens the control room provided. None of them offered any good news.

    As much as she was remiss to admit it, Airachnid had not been using the Titan's utilities to their full potential. She had only relocated into it after discovering its space bridge, something which she knew she could use. With camouflage and security systems already in place, the very idea of someone escaping from the dungeons or breaking in had never crossed her mind until now.

    Fortunately, this was a minor inconvenience that could be easily dealt with.

    Not requiring any other form of communication, she sent a call out to her Insecticons. Content that the situation was under control, she turned away from the viewscreens and returned to her lab.