CHAPTER SEVEN
--Earth--
"Why hasn't he done it yet?!" Fearstorm fumed as he watched Trypticon rise from where he had landed, already making his way towards the Underbase's location. "We gave him ample time! Is it really that difficult--"
"Perhaps his attempts were met with resistance," Viral interjected. "The Underbase is much more than it presents itself to be."
"Spare me," Fearstorm growled. "How hard can it be to destroy a simple cube?"
"There's nothing simple about--"
"Enough." Fearstorm grabbed Viral by the shoulder. "This planet is a lost cause. We should leave before it gets worse."
"They're not going to be happy," Viral said quietly.
"No," Fearstorm growled. "But evading them will only beget a far worse punishment. Best to report our failure and pray for a painless fate."
"And the energy vampires?"
"They've served their purpose. Now then, ready a transwarp jump."
As Viral prepped his repaired transwarp device, Fearstorm glanced down at the red-eyed EVE probe they had brought with them. He regarded her coolly for a moment before drawing his gun and blasting the probe bot to smithereens.
"We could have used it," Viral murmured.
Fearstorm shook his head. "There's nothing of any worth on this planet. Not anymore."
With that, he grabbed onto Viral's arm and the two warped into thin air.
--Trypticon--
"I think we should go after them."
Spinister blinked as he was suddenly reminded of Fulcrum's existence. Shifting his gaze from the ceiling to the K-Con, the helicopter bot said, "What?"
"I think Krok was trying to call me earlier, but something's interfering," Fulcrum said. "We should probably go looking for them."
Spinister shrugged, not caring enough to argue. "Fine."
The two of them made their way through the dark corridors until they found an elevator, which took them to the next level up. When the doors slid open again, they were greeted with the sight of a deactivated Centurion unit, countless bullet holes lining its armor.
"Oh, scrap," Fulcrum murmured.
Spinister wasn't sure what had gotten the K-Con all shaken up until two more Centurion droids appeared from around the corner. Their weapons were already drawn and locked on the two Scavengers.
"Intruders detected," one of them uttered. "Set weapons to--"
Fulcrum ducked as Spinister fired off multiple shots from his gun. One shot blasted one of the units' head off while the rest pelted into the other's chassis. The remaining drone charged towards the two Decepticons, the orange barrel of its weapon glowing. Pushing Fulcrum aside, Spinister launched himself at the Centurion and grappled its clawed arms.
"Go," he grunted out to Fulcrum. "Go find Krok and the others."
"What?" Fulcrum sounded more surprised by Spinister's sudden eloquence than anything. "No, I can't just leave--"
"Go, you idiot!" Spinister snapped. "Don't try and be a hero! You'll only die!"
Thankfully, Fulcrum doesn't argue further. Once Spinister could no longer hear the patter of the K-Con's feet, he shifted his hold on the Centurion drone and grabbed it in a headlock.
"Let's be clear on one thing: I'm not in a good mood."
The Centurion struggled as he detached its weapon arm and let it clatter to the floor.
"My friends -- if you can even call them that -- think I'm an idiot. And it's true; I am an idiot. The only thing is that I stopped pretending otherwise a long time ago.
"See, I was pretty young when the Decepticons made their resurgence; fresh off the assembly line, I watched the illegal gladiator matches Clench held and started to develop the delusion that I could become the best Decepticon fighter there ever was. But the truth is... I'm not. I never was, and I never will be."
He tightened his hold on the Centurion's head, causing the pistons in its neck to snap and hiss.
"I realized that no one saw me the way I saw myself... so I stopped trying. If others thought I was an idiot, then I would simply act like one. Otherwise, I'd only be embarrassing myself. But as years turned into decades, and decades turned into centuries... I realized that acting stupid was so flipping easy, that I didn't even need to act. It took so little effort that I came to believe I really was that stupid.
"And you know what? I'm fine with that. Really. Because it means I get to live in my own little world and not give a damn about anyone or anything else... and no one would call me out for it. But then you had to ruin it, because now you've made me actually give a damn."
With a final snap, the Centurion's head came free and Spinister hurled it into the wall. At the same time, more of its type came marching down the hall, weapons primed and locked on the Scavenger.
"I didn't care when Thundersaur died." Spinister drew his gun again, noting that it only had enough power for twelve shots. "I didn't care when Flywheels died. And up until now, I wouldn't have cared if any of the losers I've been stuck with for the last eight years went and bit it. But now, somehow, for some ungodly reason, you've managed to make me care. And I've got to tell you... I'm none too happy about it."
As the Centurions fired upon him, Spinister squeezed the trigger of his gun and began counting every shot in his head....
* * *
"Ha ha, got him. And I didn't miss once."
Misfire allowed his remaining arm to fall as the Centurion droid did the same, joining its brothers on the floor. He looked over to Crankcase, who was still laying with both of his legs and a majority of his head missing. His brain module was still intact from what Misfire could tell, increasing the Triggercon's chances of survival by at least one percent.
"You did good too, I guess." Misfire winced as he hobbled onto his feet, his calves having been stripped bare. "Anyway. Right. The guns."
He had only taken two steps when he heard someone come running around the corner. Without thinking, he turned around and fired his gun... only to hit Fulcrum square in the chest.
"Oh god!" Misfire quickly dropped his weapon. "What have I done?!"
"I'm fine, you moron," Fulcrum grunted as he got back up. "K-Con plating is a bit sturdier than it may seem. Where's Crankcase?"
"Right here." Misfire pointed to the dying Triggercon. "Don't worry, he'll be fine. Should be, anyway. I think."
Fulcrum opened his mouth as if to say something before shaking his head. "Whatever. It can wait. Have you disabled the guns yet?"
"Yeah, I was just about to." There was a loud snap as Misfire's exposed leg pistons broke, causing him to fall to the floor. "Or, uh, maybe not...."
"Don't worry, I've got it." Fulcrum stepped over his downed comrade and into the weapons control room. "Shouldn't be too hard...."
"Have you done it before?" Misfire asked.
"No," the K-Con admitted as he looked upon the many, many control panels and buttons that lit up the small dark room. "But, I mean, how hard can it--"
Without warning, the door slid shut behind him, sealing him off from the other two Scavengers. As Fulcrum panicked, the ceiling burst open and a mass of cables cascaded down, ensnaring his arms.
"Don't think I don't know what you're attempting to do," a deep voice rumbled. "I congratulate you for making it this far, but now... your journey must come to an end."
"Trypticon, wait! It's me, Fulcrum! I'm--"
"I know who you are," Trypticon growled. "I know what you are. And now, K-Con...."
Fulcrum screamed as the cables blasted electricity into his body.
"...you are going to fulfill your purpose at last."
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