PROPOSALS
Impactor’s fist slammed hard onto the table, causing it to shake. “We’re leaving. Now.”Sitting across from him, flanked by Star Saber and Primal Major, Elita-One affixed the former Wrecker leader with an unwavering expression. “No,” she said firmly. “Not until we’ve rescued Sari.”
Impactor scowled, simultaneously infuriated and confused by her resolve. “How can the life of one human be more important than thousands of Cybertronians?”
“I can’t believe we’re agreeing on something for once,” muttered Springer, standing next to Impactor.
“Sari is more than just a normal human,” Elita replied. “We strongly believe that she is Cybertronian as well.”
“Impossible. How can that—”
“You can ask Wheeljack; he’s the one who figured it all out. In any case, we can’t just leave her in the hands of the Decepticons. It would go against everything we Autobots stand for.”
“That’s great and all, but out there is a massive swarm of Noisemazes — which, need I remind you, we dealt with during the last crisis — that’s gearing up for something big, whether it be another invasion or Primus knows what.” Impactor frowned at the three bots standing in front of him. “I shouldn’t be the one who has to tell you that something needs to be done.”
“I’m well aware of the threat at hand,” Elita calmly stated. “But until we have a clear idea of what that threat is, we must focus on the most pressing and obvious matters, which is to rescue Sari.”
“And Skids,” Star Saber added quietly.
Impactor grimaced as he looked between the two leaders, realizing that he would not be getting through to them. Shifting his attention to Primal, he opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the Maximal leader.
“Look, every minute we spend arguing is another minute we lose doing whatever needs to be done. You want to deal with the Noisemazes? Fine. Get your Wreckers and deal with them.” He then turned to Elita. “You want to rescue Sari? Fine. Gather a team and rescue her.”
Elita frowned at him. “It’s not that simple, Primal.”
“Of course it isn’t. When has it ever been? But unless we stop bickering and actually act, nothing is going to get done.”
“He has a point,” Star Saber said. “Sari and Skids are counting on us.”
“We have a Titan,” Springer pointed out. “Plus a whole bunch of Autobots from Star Saber and Thunderclash’s crews. I don’t think even Scorponok can match that.”
Star Saber nodded in agreement. “Once everyone’s recovered, I’m sure they’ll be more than ready to take on whatever Scorponok’s got waiting for us. Besides, after surviving the Destructons and Dire Wraiths, what could he have in store that tops either of those things?”
“More Destructons and Dire Wraiths?” Impactor said pointedly.
“Very possible. But we’ve survived worse, haven’t we?”
Elita looked from one Autobot to the other, seeing no hints of objection in any of them. Realizing that she could think of no better alternative to what they were proposing, she nodded in resignation. “Very well then. I’ll have Metroplex set scanners out for Sari’s spark signature — assuming she has one — as well as any Decepticons that may be holding her captive. After that… we give them hell.”
Impactor grunted with acceptance. “I suppose that’s as good a compromise as any.”
Springer smirked at him. “What, you’re only fine with rescuing humans as long as it means kicking ass?”
“Old habits die hard, kid….”
* * *
“Jazz. Jazz. Jazz.”Jazz groaned, pistons creaking as he moved his head for the first time in who-knows-how-long. His arm joints felt stiff which probably had to do with the fact that they were pinned over his head on the wall he was hanging from. Directly across from him in the old, dingy cell was a small red bot in the exact same position.
“Jazz,” Cliffjumper repeated.
“I heard you the first time, man,” Jazz mumbled, stretching his neck struts from one side to the other.
“No you didn’t. I’ve been saying your name for the past five minutes. You’ve been out of it ever since I got back.”
“Got back?”
“They’ve started doing experiments on us,” Cliffjumper grunted. “They brought me out to see if I was ‘viable’ enough, but apparently I was too small for them. They’ve got Mirage now after tossing me back in.”
“Mirage?” Jazz looked over to the third wall between them, seeing the empty chains dangling from the brick surface. “Scrap.”
“I’ll say. I don’t know how we’re gonna get out of this mess.”
“C’mon, Cliff’. This is nothing compared to some of the things we’ve been through. After Simanzi, Thunderwing, and Unicron, what can these Decepticon thugs throw at us?”
“Well, they’ve got something out there,” Cliffjumper replied. “Something they call the Talisman. It was what they were planning to use on me before they—”
Jazz suddenly shushed him as he heard the sound of footsteps coming from outside their cell. The metal door swung open and a blue and white bot was thrown in, landing face-first onto the dirt-trodden floor. As Mirage struggled to get back up, a blue and black Decepticon stormed in and slammed his foot onto the Autobot’s back, pushing him back down.
“Worthless,” Dropkick muttered as he pulled out a fresh set of chains. “I swear, if not one of you is what the boss is looking for—”
“Hey, Dropkick!” Jazz exclaimed, startling the ‘Con. “I thought I recognized your ugly mug. Long time no see, huh?”
Dropkick glared at him as he began to tie the chains around Mirage’s arms. “I’m not in a mood for conversation, Autobot. Save your screams for later.”
“Oh, does that mean I’m next?” Jazz flashed a cheeky grin, ignoring the confused look Cliffjumper was giving him. “I’m flattered. To whom do I owe this honor?”
“You’ll be seeing him shortly enough.” After hanging Mirage back onto the wall, Dropkick moved over to Jazz and sawed a blade through his chains. As Jazz dropped down, Dropkick quickly slapped a pair of stasis cuffs over his wrists before he could make a move.
As the Decepticon began to drag him out of the cell, Jazz looked over his shoulder at Mirage, whose armor plating was covered in dents and scratches. “My friends aren’t good enough for him?” he said to Dropkick.
“You can ask him yourself,” Dropkick muttered as he closed the cell door behind them, shutting Jazz off from the other two Autobots.
The Decepticon proceeded to lead Jazz through a winding maze of corridors and hallways. Jazz wasn’t quite sure what exactly this place was nor did he know how and why it was large enough to fit Cybertronians. Knowing that Dropkick would not be receptive to any questions he had, he instead kept quiet and memorized the path leading back to the cell. Eventually, they reached a massive, wide chamber where several of Dropkick’s fellow Decepticons were gathered. At the very back of the room was a large, six-angled monolith with a purple orb in its bottom center, radiating with energy. Distracted by the mysterious artifact, Jazz almost didn’t notice the bot in charge of it all until they lumbered into his line of sight.
“Scorponok,” he muttered, glaring up at the purple and green Decepticon.
Scorponok grinned widely at him. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. But I’m afraid we don’t have time for such trivial things.”
He made a gesture with his giant claw and a red Decepticon came forward to take Jazz from Dropkick. Dragging him towards the obelisk, she pushed him down onto his knees while another Decepticon came forward with a claw-like device and attached it to Jazz’s chest. Jazz felt a distinct feeling of discomfort run through his body while the Decepticon stared at the readings being displayed on the device.
“Well, Banzai-Tron,” Scorponok said to the gray, red, and green ‘Con. “Is he our lucky candidate?”
“V-negative spark-type,” Banzai-Tron reported back. “Definitely forged. At least 1,984 years old, give or take.”
“The heck is this all about?” Jazz asked. “You guys picking and choosing who you get to torture now?”
“Quiet!” Dropkick snapped, striking the Autobot in the back of his helmet.
Ignoring the exchange, Banzai-Tron said to Scorponok, “I’m afraid he is not viable for testing purposes. His composition is too… basic. Standard. The probability of him surviving the operations are incredibly slim.”
“A pity,” Scorponok said morosely. “I had been hoping to get some use out of them. The Talisman’s abilities are sure to be limitless yet they are wasted by what the Grand Architect has planned for it.”
“Undoubtedly,” said Banzai-Tron, though he did not sound as disappointed as Scorponok. “What shall we do with the Autobots, then?”
Scorponok waved a dismissive claw. “Dispose of them. Perhaps we can use their parts for salvaging purposes. We wouldn’t want them to be a complete waste.”
Jazz tensed as Dropkick placed a hand on his shoulder. Before he could think of how to act, the red female Decepticon suddenly spoke up.
“Wait. I have an idea.”
Both Scorponok and Banzai-Tron turned to look at her, the former looking more intrigued than the latter. “Speak, Shatter.”
“The Autobots here on Earth are in possession of a Titan,” Shatter went on. “A potential obstacle to our plans… unless we use the Talisman on it.”
At this, Scorponok’s face brightened. “I’m already liking where your head’s at.”
“And just how, pray tell, do we get our hands on such a Titan?” asked Banzai-Tron.
“Simple.” Shatter ran a clawed hand across the side of Jazz’s face, making him cringe. “We already have our bait.”
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