CHAPTER ONE
Cybertron, Cycle 8114 (over 1,700 years ago)
Located in the middle of Cybertron’s wilderness — unexplored territory that not even the bravest pioneer dared venture into — the solitary fortress stood alone amid a forest of wires and circuitry. Centuries of neglect manifested itself in the form of rust coating the exterior of the fortress, giving the impression that no one currently resided. Of course, that was exactly the idea, and was the reason why no one had visited the fortress in over three thousand years.No one, that is, besides Hydra.
The red-and-black jet flew out of the foliage of circuitry before transforming into her robot mode, landing just before the entrance to the fortress. Almost immediately, a metallic stalk with a round end popped out from a spot just above the large door. It looked down at Hydra and waved a red light over her. After a moment, the light turned green and the stalk retracted back inside as the large door opened.
“Welcome, Hydra of Vos. You may enter.”
Wordlessly, Hydra stepped foot into the fortress and began making her way down the long hallway, using her lights to navigate the darkness after the door had closed behind her. At the end of the hall, she reached an elevator which took her to the highest level of the building, though not without a chorus of screeching as it moved for the first time in years. As the elevator laboriously came to a halt, the doors opened and Hydra set foot into the barely lit room. A lone figure stood before her with their back turned, standing hunched over a worktable covered with tools and datapads.
Without turning around, the sole resident of the fortress said, “What compels you to bother me once more, Hydra of Vos?”
Hydra frowned as she took a step forward. “It’s been a hundred years since my last visit, Termagax.”
“Even a century is but a blip of time in my optics now,” Termagax said wearily. The silver-and-gold bot turned away from her work to look at Hydra, her optics old and tired. “What is it you seek from me this time?”
Hydra shook her head. “I seek nothing from you. I simply—”
“Then you are wasting both of our times,” Termagax said curtly. “If I have nothing of value to offer you, then you have no reason to be here.”
“I have as much reason as any of your former students,” Hydra shot back. “Not that you ever let them in.”
“I do when they require something of me. So far, in all of the years since my exile, you have been the only one to return to me.”
“And yet here you are, pushing me away.”
Termagax’s optics narrowed as she regarded Hydra skeptically. “Either state your reasons for coming here or leave me be.”
Hydra huffed as she crossed her arms. “I’ve taken on a ward of my own,” she said quietly. “His name is Optronix.”
“And?” Termagax asked, not bothering to hide the impatience in her tone.
“And… I think he’s the one, Termagax. The one we’ve talked about.”
At this, Termagax fell silent, her expression turning solemn. “You’re still clinging onto that vision, Hydra? Even after all this time?”
“We both know that Cybertron needs proper leadership if it is to prosper in this supposed Golden Age,” Hydra replied. “Sentinel Prime is obviously not suited for that role, as much as the High Council likes to prop him up.”
“And you believe this Optronix of yours will be?” Termagax asked. “How long has he been online?”
“Two months. He’s already begun training under Impactor.”
Termagax sighed as she shook her head. “Hydra, this is far too early to know whether or not he’ll be—”
“You haven’t even seen him yet.”
Before Termagax could reply, Hydra held up her hand and activated a small holo-projector in her palm, displaying the image of a red and black bot. He had a sturdy frame and strong features, with a faceplate covering his face. As Termagax stared at the hologram with an intrigued look, Hydra allowed herself a small smile.
“You may not believe it now… but I am fully confident that I have found the Arisen.”
Earth, present day
The door slid open as soon as Scourge had approached it, granting him entry into Trypticon’s command center.The room was dark, all of its systems appearing to be offline. As Scourge understood it, Trypticon was the type of Titan who preferred to operate himself, rather than rely on some crew. Although, an exception was made for the lone, purple-colored figure sitting in the command chair situated in the center of the room. The bot did not move until Scourge drew closer to him, at which point the mech’s visor lit up and he stirred from his slumped position.
“What… who is…?” His gaze fell upon Scourge. “Who are you?”
“My name is Scourge,” the dark copy of Optimus Prime replied. “Shockwave tells me that you go by the name of Full-Tilt.”
“Full-Tilt,” the bot repeated, as if it was a name that belonged to someone besides himself. “Right. Yeah. That sounds about right.” He cleared his vocal processor as he shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Excuse me for asking, but where are we?”
“Earth,” Scourge replied.
“Earth?” Full-Tilt’s visor flashed. “Oh, god, not again. I thought we’d left that place. Why are we back here? What’s happened since we left?”
Scourge shook his head. “I don’t have the patience for this. I would like to make a request to Trypticon.”
Full-Tilt stared at Scourge, his visor and faceplate making his expression difficult to discern. “A request? To… to Trypticon? As in the Titan we’re in right now?”
“I’m not aware of any others.”
“Um, I’m not sure if you can… do that. Trypticon isn’t really the type who… likes having others tell him what to do.”
“It is not my concern whether he likes it or not,” Scourge growled. “He will do as I command.”
Full-Tilt seemed to look doubtful but nonetheless shrugged his shoulders. “All right, I guess. What’s your request?”
“I want him to produce two sparks and forge a new body.”
Full-Tilt was silent for a moment as he stared at Scourge, nonplussed. Suddenly, the room around them shook as a low voice began to reverberate all around them.
“You ask me — a Titan of Destruction — to produce… life?” Trypticon rumbled.
“I am not asking you,” Scourge replied. “I am commanding you.”
“Nobody commands Trypticon!”
“It was I who gave you life,” Scourge said sharply. “Or, rather, it was Megatron who gave you life; the same Megatron whom I share this body with.”
At the sound of the Decepticon leader’s name, everything went still. When Trypticon spoke again, his voice was in a deadly whisper.
“Megatron?”
“Correct,” Scourge said. “If you wish to continue living, I suggest you do as I say. After all, we have the capacity to operate even a dead Titan.”
At first, there was only silence. Then, a slight tremor rolled through the room as Trypticon responded in a low growl.
“As you command… Lord Megatron.”
Satisfied with this, Scourge turned and departed without another word. As soon as he was gone, the door slammed shut and Full-Tilt immediately looked up to the ceiling; it was his only point of reference when speaking to the Titan he inhabited.
“I’m surprise you didn’t kill him when you had the chance. Or have me kill him. Or am I you? God, I don’t even know at this point.”
“Silence,” Trypticon rumbled. “It is too early for me to give myself away. We must first assess the present situation and figure out who this Grand Architect is and what his plans for us are. Then, when the moment is right, we will make our move.”
Full-Tilt sighed. “Why are you evil despots so fond of playing the waiting game?”
Trypticon chuckled. “Because those are the games that always have the most satisfying conclusions.”
