CHAPTER SEVEN
Cybertron, Cycle 8114 (over 1,700 years ago)
“She thinks he is the one.”
Sentinel Prime stared at the small hologram that Termagax had presented to him. His layered faceplate was expressionless as his old cerulean optical sensors studied the visual of Optronix, as if trying to figure him out like a puzzle. Termagax stood before the Prime in the shadows of his private quarters, her own optics barely visible in the darkness.
“I will admit, the resemblance is uncanny,” the recluse went on. “The design of his faceplate is strikingly similar to how the Arisen is portrayed.”
“A coincidence,” Sentinel Prime said gruffly. “You and I both know that he is not the Arisen.”
“I am aware,” Termagax said evenly. “But you cannot deny that—”
“If there is a point to this discussion, then I would like you to get to it quickly,” Sentinel Prime snapped, switching off the hologram. “If Hydra believes her new ward is the Arisen reincarnated, then let her think so. I don’t understand why you would come out of hiding for this.”
Termagax was unfazed by the harshness in Sentinel’s tone. “We are perhaps the only Cybertronians remaining who know of the Arisen’s true identity,” she said calmly. “I highly doubt Delta Magnus is going to out himself anytime soon.”
Sentinel regarded her carefully. “What are you getting at?”
“You are going to need a puppet to manipulate when the time comes. People will notice Optronix’s resemblance to the Arisen and will heed his word if they are given reason to believe that he is indeed who they think he is.”
At this, Sentinel’s dour mood slowly vanished, replaced with a look of intrigue. He switched the hologram on again, a smile creeping onto his face as he gazed upon Optronix once more.
“Oh, yes,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I can very much see that….”
Trypticon’s hot spot, Earth, present day
“Energy levels are stable. Pulse is strong. So far, so good….”
Flatline carefully captured the glowing green spark within his clawed device, gingerly extracting it from the hot spot that had birthed it. Trying his best to ignore the stares of everyone around him, he slowly rose to his feet and started to move towards the large, gray and black chassis that awaited its power source.
“Remember, I can’t guarantee that everything is going to go one hundred percent smoothly,” the Decepticon medic said. “Most ‘point one percenters’ are forged and thus already inside the metal that’s going to form their body. I don’t know how a cold-constructed body is going to react upon having such a powerful spark be placed inside of it.”
“I am aware of the risks, doctor,” growled Scourge, watching Flatline’s every move. “Just get on with it.”
“Right, right. No pressure.” Grateful that his faceplate hid most of the anxious expression on his face, Flatline slowly and carefully inserted the spark into the body’s empty chestplate. He then jumped back as energy surged into the body, though to his relief nothing exploded like he was afraid of. After closing the body’s spark chamber, Flatline turned back to Scourge and bowed.
“Everything should be in working order, my liege. Though I would give it a few mega-cycles just to make sure the body and spark are fully operational.”
“Excellent work, Flatline.” Scourge turned around to face Shockwave, who stood nearby alongside Starscream and Soundwave. “I trust that you will be able to successfully transfer my— Megatron’s consciousness into this new body?”
“It should not be too difficult,” Shockwave replied. “After all, I do have experience in the field.”
“Then let us put your experience to use.” With that, Scourge turned and strode out of the chamber, with Shockwave following close behind. Flatline hastily loaded Megatron’s newly constructed body onto a hoversled and guided it outside as well, leaving Starscream and Soundwave alone in the chamber that contained Trypticon’s hot spot.
The Decepticon air commander glanced at Soundwave, eyeing the communications officer carefully. Soundwave did not acknowledge his gaze, even when the Seeker finally started speaking.
“I’m surprised you’re here.”
“I fail to see as to why,” Soundwave replied.
“I thought you were comfortable with your position back on Cybertron,” Starscream went on. “Out of all the Decepticons I’ve known, you adjusted to peacetime easier than anyone. I don’t believe I ever heard you complain.”
“Even if I did have qualms, why would I voice them to you?” Soundwave asked pointedly.
Starscream shrugged. “Fair enough. Still, you had every opportunity to join Ratbat’s Ultracons or… literally do anything else besides work with Autobots. But you never did. Yet here you are, back with us once more, just like the good old days.”
Soundwave at last turned to face Starscream, his red visor meeting the Seeker’s optical sensors. “For nearly a thousand years, I had sworn fealty to Megatron, vowing never to turn against him. Yet in the span of two years, I have broken that oath twice; once to rejoin the Heralds of Unicron, then again to follow Shockwave. I consider it a miracle that Lord Megatron has not yet destroyed me for my unfaithfulness.”
“Well, he’s not exactly back yet,” Starscream said. “For all you know, that could be the first thing he does once he gets uploaded into this new body of his.”
“Then I will gladly accept my fate, as I fully deserve it.”
Starscream’s face creased in disgust. “Ugh. Your time with the Autobots has allowed their righteousness to rub off on you.”
“Righteousness is not a trait exclusive to the Autobots,” Soundwave said. “It is simply a trait that you have absolutely no concept of.”
“Ah, how I’ve missed our little spats. I suppose some things never change.”
“Or if they do,” Soundwave interjected, “they always end up changing back.”
Starscream scoffed. “There’s no need to get philosophical on me.”
“Is there a point to this conversation, Starscream? Because if not, then I believe my time is better spent elsewhere.”
“In that case, don’t let me keep you.” Starscream turned to walk out of the room, looking over his shoulder to give Soundwave one last smirk. “After all, I’m sure you have plenty on your plate….”
Soundwave said nothing, watching the Seeker as he strode pridefully out of the chamber. Once he was gone, Soundwave turned in the direction of the hot spot that had birthed Megatron’s new spark, staring into the darkness that laid beyond it.
“You wanted to speak with me?” he spoke into the darkness.
“Yes,” rumbled the voice of Trypticon. “I was hoping we could do some… catching up.”
* * *
Scorponok was not in a good mood.
Not only had he lost Sari — the greatest creation to have come out of his machinations — but he had lost any sense of control that he had in regards to the Grand Architect’s operations on Earth to this “Scourge” individual, who believed himself to somehow be Megatron reborn. To make matters worse, almost all of the Decepticons had flocked to follow Scourge’s lead and ignored any command Scorponok attempt to give. Only a handful of the original Ultracons — including Shatter and Dropkick — were still somewhat loyal to him (or at least as loyal as a Decepticon could be), but even they seemed to only be acknowledging Scorponok in the hopes that it would benefit them.
He still could not wrap his head around the fact that the Grand Architect had turned against him like that. He had been promised that by siding with the Architect, he would be able to bring all of his dreams and plans to fruition. But with Megatron back, that would no longer be possible. The Decepticon leader would be watching his every move, if not outright obliterate him for his past treachery.
The only reason Scorponok had not yet struck out on his own was because he still needed the Talisman. He needed to know what it was fully capable of and how he would be able to apply its powers to his plans. That meant either taking things back over from Megatron… or stealing the Talisman himself. Both options were incredibly risky, but he knew only one of them would serve him the best in the long run.
Fortunately, he already knew someone who could help him in such an endeavor. He only needed to do some convincing.
Navigating his way through the Decepticon camp, which had recently bolstered in size since the arrival of those from Cybertron as well as the addition of Trypticon’s “city” form, Scorponok easily found the bot he was looking for. Killmaster was not one who could be easily missed with his massive, hulking form that towered over the likes of Lugnut and even Scorponok himself. Scorponok would expect nothing less from a former member of the Warriors Elite, yet he could not help but wonder if there was something more deceptive about Killmaster’s appearance. He pushed any doubts to the back of his mind as he closed in on Killmaster, clearing his vocal processor to make his presence known.
The large purple and gold Decepticon turned around to look down at Scorponok, his small red optics narrowing. “What do you want?”
Scorponok put on a smile in an attempt at cordiality. “I’ve been looking for you, Killmaster. That is what you call yourself, isn’t it? I’ve heard many tales about you from my subordinates, yet I don’t believe we’ve ever personally met.”
“Should have kept it that way,” Killmaster growled. “I don’t want anything to do with you.”
Scorponok’s grin wavered slightly. “You might change your mind once you give me the chance to speak. I have a very tempting offer for you.”
“Doubtful,” Killmaster grunted, turning his back on the purple and green Decepticon and walking away.
Scorponok took swift strides to catch up with him. “You are aware of the powerful device that we currently have in our possession, yes? The Talisman?”
“Heard about it. Don’t really care.”
“Ah, but I do. Believe me when I say that it is a very powerful artifact with capabilities beyond your wildest imagination.”
“Like what?”
“That’s what I aim to find out. Megatron’s return put an unexpected halt to my experimentations with it, but I have no intentions to stop. Whether Megatron likes it or not, I will find out what the Talisman is capable of and what it can do.”
“Then what?” Killmaster finally stopped to look back at Scorponok, regarding him carefully. “Do you intend on using it against Megatron?”
Scorponok hesitated, selecting his words carefully. “So long as he has no objections to my plans, then no. However, I do believe it will be useful against the Autobots.”
Killmaster tilted his head. “And how would I benefit from helping you?”
“If all goes as planned, then I’m sure Megatron will see your worth as a high-ranking official at his side. You could stand among Shockwave and Starscream as his top-most generals.”
Killmaster continued to stare at him and Scorponok expected him to ask what the benefits would be if things didn’t go to plan. Instead, the huge Decepticon moved his head forward in a slow nod.
“Sounds good. Take me to it.”
Scorponok grinned wickedly. “With pleasure.”
* * *
“Come here, you little gnat.”
Dropkick grumbled to himself as he pursued the dot on his radar that represented the rogue Sari. She was close, he could tell; the little brat hadn’t mastered her new powers to the point where she could have gotten far before getting exhausted. After all, she was still a disgusting “techno-organic” that required things like breathing and hydration. Still, he couldn’t help but wish he had picked a secondary alternate mode that was just a bit faster than a helicopter.
So far, their little chase had taken them over more than one state line. He had to give the kid credit, he hadn’t expected her to hold out for this long. He knew she couldn’t fly forever, but he was impressed that she had not yet crashed or been forced to land due to her weak biological physiology.
According to his radar, they were fast approaching the western coast of the continent. Either she was daring enough to take them overseas, or there was someplace there that she was headed that she hoped to hide at. The latter was the most likely, in his mind, though he wouldn’t be surprised if the kid tried to pull a fast one on him.
“You can’t run forever, brat,” Dropkick muttered to himself as he picked up speed. “One way or another, you’re mine.”
* * *
Sari landed in a less-than-graceful fashion; a fashion which mostly involved rolling on the ground for a solid two minutes. When she finally came to a stop, she just laid there on her back, staring up at the night sky. Her breath was heavy and haggard, and she felt as if she so much as moved a muscle, her body would be in a whole world of pain. Clearly being some sort of cyborg didn’t mean she couldn’t feel exhaustion or pain anymore. She doubt she would recommend being a human-Transformer hybrid to any of her friends.
Speaking of which, she could tell she was no closer to them than she had been however many minutes or hours ago. Sure, she was finally in California… but where in California was a whole other matter entirely. As far as she could tell, the foothills surrounding her and the two-lane road that seemed to stretch across the fields for eternity indicated she was somewhere in the middle of nowhere. It reminded her of the camping trips that her dad would take her on when she was younger, which she always found intensely boring. In any case, she knew she was still a long ways from Furman University, which was the only place she could hope to find Jack, Miko, or Raf. Maybe Verity would be there too, though she honestly didn’t know what that girl’s deal was.
Just as her breathing was starting to regulate, she heard the faint sound of helicopter blades in the distance. Her heart dropped into her stomach. Was it Sector Seven? Or was it another Decepticon, still on her tail even after she had downed the red lady-bot?
The sound of parts shifting and clanking together gave her the answer. Sari tried to get up only to wince as she felt a sharp pain her chest. Her legs refused to cooperate as well, leaving her laying there as a large blue and gray metal figure appeared from over the foothills, approaching her with its guns drawn.
“No sudden moves, kid,” the Decepticon rumbled, a green light flashing from its mouth as it spoke. “Unlike Shatter, I won’t hesitate to pop you if you so much as flinch.”
Sari glared at him. “I thought you guys wanted me alive.”
“The others do. I don’t really care, to be quite frank. If you ask me, I’d say you’re a lost cause and Scorponok should just make another squishy Mini-Con.”
“Won’t they be mad at you for disobeying orders?”
The Decepticon shrugged. “Probably. Hell, I’m sure they’ll beat my aft for it. But at this point, I don’t really care. You’ve given me enough of a headache already.” He pointed both of his guns at Sari. “Now, are you going to come quietly, or do you want to see if the Afterspark will let freak abominations like you in?”
Sari did not answer him, remaining completely still. The Decepticon snorted, holstering one of his guns before walking up to Sari, keeping the other gun pointed at her in case she moved. He bent down and roughly picked her up from the ground, his hand tightly wrapped around her body. She cringed from the pain but did not dare make a sound.
“Dropkick to Shatter,” the Decepticon spoke into his radio. “I’ve got her. Wanna radio Soundwave to open a groundbridge?” Silence as he listened to the response. “Because I am not flying all the way back over there! Do you have any idea how tired my rotor blades are? …Oh, I’m so sorry to hear about your precious wing. Maybe next time you should ARGH!”
A yellow blade of energy sliced through Dropkick’s shoulder, severing the arm that he was holding Sari with. As she fell to the ground, Dropkick spun around and pointed his gun at an unseen target only to be knocked back by a burst of energy. The ground shook as the Decepticon fell and his body went limp, indicating that he would not be getting back up any time soon.
Just as Sari sat up, a human-sized figure appeared in front of her, clad from head to toe in white and blue armor with a black bodysuit underneath. He looked down at her, his face hidden behind a mask, though she could detect signs of a human face behind his dark visor. He extended a hand to her and she carefully took it, allowing him to pull her up to her feet.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’ve been better,” Sari muttered, her knees still feeling weak as she tried to balance herself. Once she had, she looked to the stranger with a suspicious look. “I appreciate the rescue, but just who the hell are you?”
“My name is Kicker Jones,” the armored man replied. “I take it you are Sari Sumdac?”
She frowned. “How do you know my name?”
“I know more than just your name. I know what you are and who made you.”
Sari’s eyes widened. “But… how…?”
“Because I am just like you, Sari Sumdac,” Kicker Jones replied. “And if you really want to know the truth about who you are… then you need to come with me.”
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