CONVERGING PATHS
“Lower your weapons,” Fearstorm said. “We would like to make you an offer.”
“Release our friend,” Nautica shot back. “We would like to shoot you in the face.”
“Hardly the warm welcome we were expecting,” Fearstorm muttered. He gestured at the restrained Skids in his and Viral’s clutches. “We are offering you the release of your friend, on the condition that you return to us what is ours.”
“Rung is our friend, too,” said Nightbeat, keeping his gun pointed at the Vehicon’s head. “They’re both staying with us, while you two can kindly take a trip to the scrapheap.”
Fearstorm glared at him. “You realize that you Autobots would be no challenge for us, yes? Viral and I can easily dispatch all seven of you and take Rung for ourselves.”
Skids chuckled at this, despite his predicament. “Oh, so you’re not going to tell them how easily I dispatched you?”
“Silence!” Fearstorm snarled, striking the Autobot across the head.
Thunderclash smirked. “Well, if that’s the case, it would seem the odds are easily in our favor. You two really have no room to wager.”
“Is that right?” A gun unfurled from the Vehicon’s arm as he pressed it against Skids’ head. “Because I think I have plenty of room to wager!”
“Just shoot him in the head,” Skids said, not at all bothered by the gun barrel in his face. “It’s his main weak spot.”
“You are playing with fire, Autobot,” Fearstorm growled at him. “Don’t think for a nanosecond that I won’t—”
The Vehicon abruptly went silent as he moved with a start. He dropped his gun arm away from Skids as he straightened up, a look of shock emanating from his faceplate.
“No,” he murmured.
“I hear it, too,” said Viral.
“It can’t be… he’s dead, isn’t he?”
All of the Autobots exchanged confused looks, not daring to move their weapons away from the pair. “Do I dare ask what’s going on?” said Nightbeat.
Viral inclined his head to look at Fearstorm. “Is this part of the plan? Does the Grand Architect want us all to—?”
“The message doesn’t apply to us,” Fearstorm was quick to interject. “We aren’t Decepticons anymore. Unless this is so the Grand Architect can clear the board, so to speak….”
“All right, I’ve had enough of this,” Whirl said as he immediately unloaded his guns on the two. Thunderclash quickly grabbed Skids and pulled him out of the line of fire while Fearstorm and Viral were blasted back into the hallway. As Fearstorm was about to return fire, Viral suddenly grabbed him and the two of them vanished in a flash of light.
Just as the ex-Wrecker had ceased fire, a voice crackled over the intercom. “Autobots, we’ve arrived at Verenya,” came the voice of Elita-One. “Meet me at the command center as soon as possible.”
“Well,” Nightbeat said as he freed Skids from his stasis cuffs. “That was certainly… an experience.”
“What do you think it was that the two of them heard?” Nautica asked.
“Who can say?” Thunderclash said, already heading out of the lab. “Let’s not keep Elita waiting.”
As the others began to follow him, Skids walked over to Rung and slapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Eyebrows! Didn’t think I was gonna leave you, did you?”
Rung smiled weakly. “Well, we were all about to come and rescue you….”
“At least I saved you the trouble.” Skids then tilted his head, his optic ridges furrowing in concern. “Hey, what’s the matter? You don’t seem too happy.”
Rung shook his head. “This… this all feels too easy. Why did Fearstorm and Viral retreat so quickly when it was me they were after?”
Skids shrugged. “Wish I could tell you. Do you even know why they’re after you?”
“I haven’t yet pieced it together,” Rung said solemnly. “However, I think I’ve finally figured out what my function is.”
“And what is that?”
“Wait until we get to the command center,” Rung replied. “It will be easier to explain when we get there.”
“Whatever you say, Eyebrows,” Skids said. “Whatever you say.”
“Release our friend,” Nautica shot back. “We would like to shoot you in the face.”
“Hardly the warm welcome we were expecting,” Fearstorm muttered. He gestured at the restrained Skids in his and Viral’s clutches. “We are offering you the release of your friend, on the condition that you return to us what is ours.”
“Rung is our friend, too,” said Nightbeat, keeping his gun pointed at the Vehicon’s head. “They’re both staying with us, while you two can kindly take a trip to the scrapheap.”
Fearstorm glared at him. “You realize that you Autobots would be no challenge for us, yes? Viral and I can easily dispatch all seven of you and take Rung for ourselves.”
Skids chuckled at this, despite his predicament. “Oh, so you’re not going to tell them how easily I dispatched you?”
“Silence!” Fearstorm snarled, striking the Autobot across the head.
Thunderclash smirked. “Well, if that’s the case, it would seem the odds are easily in our favor. You two really have no room to wager.”
“Is that right?” A gun unfurled from the Vehicon’s arm as he pressed it against Skids’ head. “Because I think I have plenty of room to wager!”
“Just shoot him in the head,” Skids said, not at all bothered by the gun barrel in his face. “It’s his main weak spot.”
“You are playing with fire, Autobot,” Fearstorm growled at him. “Don’t think for a nanosecond that I won’t—”
The Vehicon abruptly went silent as he moved with a start. He dropped his gun arm away from Skids as he straightened up, a look of shock emanating from his faceplate.
“No,” he murmured.
“I hear it, too,” said Viral.
“It can’t be… he’s dead, isn’t he?”
All of the Autobots exchanged confused looks, not daring to move their weapons away from the pair. “Do I dare ask what’s going on?” said Nightbeat.
Viral inclined his head to look at Fearstorm. “Is this part of the plan? Does the Grand Architect want us all to—?”
“The message doesn’t apply to us,” Fearstorm was quick to interject. “We aren’t Decepticons anymore. Unless this is so the Grand Architect can clear the board, so to speak….”
“All right, I’ve had enough of this,” Whirl said as he immediately unloaded his guns on the two. Thunderclash quickly grabbed Skids and pulled him out of the line of fire while Fearstorm and Viral were blasted back into the hallway. As Fearstorm was about to return fire, Viral suddenly grabbed him and the two of them vanished in a flash of light.
Just as the ex-Wrecker had ceased fire, a voice crackled over the intercom. “Autobots, we’ve arrived at Verenya,” came the voice of Elita-One. “Meet me at the command center as soon as possible.”
“Well,” Nightbeat said as he freed Skids from his stasis cuffs. “That was certainly… an experience.”
“What do you think it was that the two of them heard?” Nautica asked.
“Who can say?” Thunderclash said, already heading out of the lab. “Let’s not keep Elita waiting.”
As the others began to follow him, Skids walked over to Rung and slapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Eyebrows! Didn’t think I was gonna leave you, did you?”
Rung smiled weakly. “Well, we were all about to come and rescue you….”
“At least I saved you the trouble.” Skids then tilted his head, his optic ridges furrowing in concern. “Hey, what’s the matter? You don’t seem too happy.”
Rung shook his head. “This… this all feels too easy. Why did Fearstorm and Viral retreat so quickly when it was me they were after?”
Skids shrugged. “Wish I could tell you. Do you even know why they’re after you?”
“I haven’t yet pieced it together,” Rung said solemnly. “However, I think I’ve finally figured out what my function is.”
“And what is that?”
“Wait until we get to the command center,” Rung replied. “It will be easier to explain when we get there.”
“Whatever you say, Eyebrows,” Skids said. “Whatever you say.”
* * *
“You idiot!” Fearstorm wrestled free from Viral’s grip, pushing him to the ground. The two of them had teleported outside of Metroplex and onto the earth below. The giant Titan hovered over them as it made its way towards a city in the distance.
“We almost had him!” the Vehicon growled. “We could have taken advantage of the Autobots’ confusion and grabbed Rung then and there! Now Tyrest will kill us both for sure!”
“Something isn’t right, Fearstorm,” Viral replied, calm despite the fact Fearstorm’s hand was wrapped around his neck. “Megatron is dead; how can he be speaking to us now?”
“He’s died before, hasn’t he? At least, that’s what I heard. Besides, it’s not as if any of us saw us die.”
Viral had no argument for that. Still, he craved a logical explanation for all that was happening and wasn’t going to allow anyone to stop him. “We should contact Tyrest, tell him what’s happening.”
“And be punished for our prolonged failure? No thanks.” Fearstorm tightened his grip. “Take us back now before I rip out your Transwarp drive and go back there myself.”
“Except they will be on the defensive now. If we go back, they will gun us down without a second thought.”
“I’d rather die at their hands than from whatever Tyrest or the Grand Architect have in store for us,” Fearstorm muttered.
Before Viral could reply, a flash of light caught his optical sensors. Both he and Fearstorm turned to see a tall metal figure materialize out of thin air. Plated in black armor with teal highlights and red-tinted windows on his chest, the newcomer seemed to disregard the two of them as he looked up at Metroplex before turning his gaze towards the city of Verenya.
“Interesting,” he murmured to himself. “This may complicate matters.”
“I’m sorry, but just who do you think you are?” Fearstorm asked, letting go of Viral to fully face the stranger.
The black bot glanced at him, regarding him with disinterest. “Who’s asking?”
“Someone you would be wise not to cross.”
The stranger laughed. “Oh, that’s just adorable. I bet that sounded more intimidating in your head, didn’t it?”
Fearstorm fumed as he rolled his hands into fists. “Answer the question before I—”
“The name’s Scourge. I would love to stick around and get to know you better, but I have a very important task to complete.”
“You’re not going anywhere!” Fearstorm roared as he lunged at Scourge… but the black truck bot was gone in another flash of light before he could even make contact and he landed face-first onto the ground.
As the silver Vehicon got up, furiously wiping dirt from his face, Viral looked towards Verenya, where Scourge was sure to have teleported to. “We should go after him.”
Fearstorm glared at him. “Oh, so you’re willing to go after some wannabe loser but you’re not willing to fulfill the vital mission that our superiors gave us?”
“Scorponok and his forces are there,” Viral replied. “That’s where they’re keeping the Talisman. If that is what this Scourge character is after, then stopping him is just as vital as retrieving Rung.”
“Uh-huh. If that’s the case then, when do you plan on actually getting Rung?”
“Soon. Right now, this is our most immediate priority. I’m sure the Grand Architect would understand.”
“You don’t know the Grand Architect any better than I do, which isn’t very much.” Fearstorm huffed as he shook his head in exasperation. “But I know now there’s no point in trying to reason with you.”
He reluctantly extended an arm and Viral grabbed it, teleporting them both to Verenya.
“We almost had him!” the Vehicon growled. “We could have taken advantage of the Autobots’ confusion and grabbed Rung then and there! Now Tyrest will kill us both for sure!”
“Something isn’t right, Fearstorm,” Viral replied, calm despite the fact Fearstorm’s hand was wrapped around his neck. “Megatron is dead; how can he be speaking to us now?”
“He’s died before, hasn’t he? At least, that’s what I heard. Besides, it’s not as if any of us saw us die.”
Viral had no argument for that. Still, he craved a logical explanation for all that was happening and wasn’t going to allow anyone to stop him. “We should contact Tyrest, tell him what’s happening.”
“And be punished for our prolonged failure? No thanks.” Fearstorm tightened his grip. “Take us back now before I rip out your Transwarp drive and go back there myself.”
“Except they will be on the defensive now. If we go back, they will gun us down without a second thought.”
“I’d rather die at their hands than from whatever Tyrest or the Grand Architect have in store for us,” Fearstorm muttered.
Before Viral could reply, a flash of light caught his optical sensors. Both he and Fearstorm turned to see a tall metal figure materialize out of thin air. Plated in black armor with teal highlights and red-tinted windows on his chest, the newcomer seemed to disregard the two of them as he looked up at Metroplex before turning his gaze towards the city of Verenya.
“Interesting,” he murmured to himself. “This may complicate matters.”
“I’m sorry, but just who do you think you are?” Fearstorm asked, letting go of Viral to fully face the stranger.
The black bot glanced at him, regarding him with disinterest. “Who’s asking?”
“Someone you would be wise not to cross.”
The stranger laughed. “Oh, that’s just adorable. I bet that sounded more intimidating in your head, didn’t it?”
Fearstorm fumed as he rolled his hands into fists. “Answer the question before I—”
“The name’s Scourge. I would love to stick around and get to know you better, but I have a very important task to complete.”
“You’re not going anywhere!” Fearstorm roared as he lunged at Scourge… but the black truck bot was gone in another flash of light before he could even make contact and he landed face-first onto the ground.
As the silver Vehicon got up, furiously wiping dirt from his face, Viral looked towards Verenya, where Scourge was sure to have teleported to. “We should go after him.”
Fearstorm glared at him. “Oh, so you’re willing to go after some wannabe loser but you’re not willing to fulfill the vital mission that our superiors gave us?”
“Scorponok and his forces are there,” Viral replied. “That’s where they’re keeping the Talisman. If that is what this Scourge character is after, then stopping him is just as vital as retrieving Rung.”
“Uh-huh. If that’s the case then, when do you plan on actually getting Rung?”
“Soon. Right now, this is our most immediate priority. I’m sure the Grand Architect would understand.”
“You don’t know the Grand Architect any better than I do, which isn’t very much.” Fearstorm huffed as he shook his head in exasperation. “But I know now there’s no point in trying to reason with you.”
He reluctantly extended an arm and Viral grabbed it, teleporting them both to Verenya.
* * *
“You heard that, didn’t you?”
“Yup.”
“What do you think it means?”
“Dunno.”
Jazz listened as the two Decepticons went back and forth in their riveting conversation. Scorponok and the others had left the chamber to investigate something occurring outside, leaving just him and these two bozos. Whatever was going on, his guards didn’t have much more than a mild interest in it, leaving him utterly in the dark.
One of the Decepticons, a black and silver bot who went by the name of Treadshot, groaned as he stretched his arms, causing pistons to creak and snap. “Spark, this is so boring. Why did Banzai-Tron have me stay here and not, like... someone other than me?”
“You can ask him when he comes back,” replied the other guard, a gray and blue bot with a red helmet. Jazz believed his name was Take-Off or something. “I don’t know why you’re asking me.”
“It’s called a rhetorical question, moron. I wasn’t asking you.”
“Whatever,” Take-Off muttered, revving lowly in irritation. He looked towards the tunnel leading out of the chamber. “What’s taking Dropkick so long?”
“Probably got lost. That guy couldn’t find his way to a recharge slab without Shatter giving him directions.”
“Do you think one of us should check on him?”
Treadshot shook his head. “I don’t give a crap about him. He still owes me 10,000 Shanix.”
Suddenly, Jazz could hear the pattering of feet echoing from down the tunnel. They sounded like they were approaching fast… and that there was more than one bot approaching.
The two Decepticons seemed to pick up on this as well as they both drew their weapons. At that moment, two figures appeared in the tunnel’s entryway and neither of them were Dropkick. Treadshot deployed a launcher from his shoulder and fired a missile at the approaching Autobots. Mirage and Cliffjumper jumped aside to dodge the projectile before firing their guns. While Treadshot returned fire, Take-Off grabbed Jazz by the stasis cuffs and dragged him forward, bringing him in clear view of the other two Autobots.
“Hold your fire!” Take-Off cried as he pressed his gun against Jazz’s head. “Or else I send your friend to the scrapyard.”
The two Autobots immediately ceased fire. Take-Off grinned, satisfied with the position he had put himself in.
“That’s more like it. Now drop your weapons and put your hands behind your heads.”
Cliffjumper and Mirage exchanged glances with one another, their faces unreadable. The latter then turned back to the Decepticons and lowered his gun, but did not drop it.
“How about we negotiate?”
Cliffjumper shot him a confused glance. Even Treadshot and Take-Off were taken aback. “Negotiate?” the former repeated.
“You let our friend go and I can make both of you wealthier than your wildest dreams.”
Take-Off laughed. “Hold on. Are you… are you seriously offering to pay us?”
“I’m what they call ‘old money,’ pal,” Mirage replied. “Back on Cybertron, before the war, I owned one of the biggest estates in all of Translucentica Heights. Even some of the High Council’s most prestigious members couldn’t have said the same.”
“Yeah, well, that was over a thousand years ago. You wouldn’t have all that money now.”
Mirage smiled. “On the contrary, you will find that I have more than enough to my name.”
He then brought out a small projector and turned it on, bringing up a holographic display of a very large number with over ten digits in it. The two Decepticons stared at the sum in awe.
“Dude,” Treadshot murmured, “we could buy all of the casinos on Monacus with that.”
“He’s bluffing,” Take-Off said even as he continued to stare at the number. “There’s no way a lowly Autobot like him could have more money than a Prime.”
“But what if he isn’t? We wouldn’t have to work for Scorponok anymore and be treated like crap.”
As the pair debated between themselves, they both failed to notice Cliffjumper as the small red Autobot darted past them and came up from behind, jumping onto Treadshot’s back. As the large Decepticon flailed in surprise, Cliffjumper unloaded his gun on Take-Off’s head, taking him out of commission. He then tore off Treadshot’s shoulder launcher before jumping off and firing the launcher. The blast sent Treadshot flying back as the recoil did the same to the smaller Cliffjumper. The Decepticon crashed into the nearest wall and was knocked offline by the impact, his red visor fading to black.
While Cliffjumper tried to get his bearings back, Mirage rushed over to Jazz and removed the stasis cuffs around his wrists. “How’s that for a rescue?” the blue and white Autobot asked with a smirk.
Jazz chuckled as he got up on his feet. “It’s one for the books, I’ll give you that.”
“Do you really have that much money?” Cliffjumper asked.
Mirage shook his head. “I honestly have no idea. That was just the amount I had before the war started.”
Cliffjumper scowled. “That was still incredibly arrogant and boastful of you.”
“You’re probably right.”
“All right, cut the chatter, you two,” Jazz said. “I think there’s some fun brewing outside… and I’m kinda itching to get a piece of it.”
“Yup.”
“What do you think it means?”
“Dunno.”
Jazz listened as the two Decepticons went back and forth in their riveting conversation. Scorponok and the others had left the chamber to investigate something occurring outside, leaving just him and these two bozos. Whatever was going on, his guards didn’t have much more than a mild interest in it, leaving him utterly in the dark.
One of the Decepticons, a black and silver bot who went by the name of Treadshot, groaned as he stretched his arms, causing pistons to creak and snap. “Spark, this is so boring. Why did Banzai-Tron have me stay here and not, like... someone other than me?”
“You can ask him when he comes back,” replied the other guard, a gray and blue bot with a red helmet. Jazz believed his name was Take-Off or something. “I don’t know why you’re asking me.”
“It’s called a rhetorical question, moron. I wasn’t asking you.”
“Whatever,” Take-Off muttered, revving lowly in irritation. He looked towards the tunnel leading out of the chamber. “What’s taking Dropkick so long?”
“Probably got lost. That guy couldn’t find his way to a recharge slab without Shatter giving him directions.”
“Do you think one of us should check on him?”
Treadshot shook his head. “I don’t give a crap about him. He still owes me 10,000 Shanix.”
Suddenly, Jazz could hear the pattering of feet echoing from down the tunnel. They sounded like they were approaching fast… and that there was more than one bot approaching.
The two Decepticons seemed to pick up on this as well as they both drew their weapons. At that moment, two figures appeared in the tunnel’s entryway and neither of them were Dropkick. Treadshot deployed a launcher from his shoulder and fired a missile at the approaching Autobots. Mirage and Cliffjumper jumped aside to dodge the projectile before firing their guns. While Treadshot returned fire, Take-Off grabbed Jazz by the stasis cuffs and dragged him forward, bringing him in clear view of the other two Autobots.
“Hold your fire!” Take-Off cried as he pressed his gun against Jazz’s head. “Or else I send your friend to the scrapyard.”
The two Autobots immediately ceased fire. Take-Off grinned, satisfied with the position he had put himself in.
“That’s more like it. Now drop your weapons and put your hands behind your heads.”
Cliffjumper and Mirage exchanged glances with one another, their faces unreadable. The latter then turned back to the Decepticons and lowered his gun, but did not drop it.
“How about we negotiate?”
Cliffjumper shot him a confused glance. Even Treadshot and Take-Off were taken aback. “Negotiate?” the former repeated.
“You let our friend go and I can make both of you wealthier than your wildest dreams.”
Take-Off laughed. “Hold on. Are you… are you seriously offering to pay us?”
“I’m what they call ‘old money,’ pal,” Mirage replied. “Back on Cybertron, before the war, I owned one of the biggest estates in all of Translucentica Heights. Even some of the High Council’s most prestigious members couldn’t have said the same.”
“Yeah, well, that was over a thousand years ago. You wouldn’t have all that money now.”
Mirage smiled. “On the contrary, you will find that I have more than enough to my name.”
He then brought out a small projector and turned it on, bringing up a holographic display of a very large number with over ten digits in it. The two Decepticons stared at the sum in awe.
“Dude,” Treadshot murmured, “we could buy all of the casinos on Monacus with that.”
“He’s bluffing,” Take-Off said even as he continued to stare at the number. “There’s no way a lowly Autobot like him could have more money than a Prime.”
“But what if he isn’t? We wouldn’t have to work for Scorponok anymore and be treated like crap.”
As the pair debated between themselves, they both failed to notice Cliffjumper as the small red Autobot darted past them and came up from behind, jumping onto Treadshot’s back. As the large Decepticon flailed in surprise, Cliffjumper unloaded his gun on Take-Off’s head, taking him out of commission. He then tore off Treadshot’s shoulder launcher before jumping off and firing the launcher. The blast sent Treadshot flying back as the recoil did the same to the smaller Cliffjumper. The Decepticon crashed into the nearest wall and was knocked offline by the impact, his red visor fading to black.
While Cliffjumper tried to get his bearings back, Mirage rushed over to Jazz and removed the stasis cuffs around his wrists. “How’s that for a rescue?” the blue and white Autobot asked with a smirk.
Jazz chuckled as he got up on his feet. “It’s one for the books, I’ll give you that.”
“Do you really have that much money?” Cliffjumper asked.
Mirage shook his head. “I honestly have no idea. That was just the amount I had before the war started.”
Cliffjumper scowled. “That was still incredibly arrogant and boastful of you.”
“You’re probably right.”
“All right, cut the chatter, you two,” Jazz said. “I think there’s some fun brewing outside… and I’m kinda itching to get a piece of it.”
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