PROLOGUE
100 years ago (Micron, Cycle 9715)
The walls shook as the world died outside. One did not need to look at the viewscreens displaying the numerous Consortia attack ships bombarding the planet when one could feel the world tremble and moan at their feet. While Sparkplug had never lived through an apocalypse before, he had the instinct that this was exactly what one felt like.
The yellow-plated Mini-Con ran down the corridors of the Micron Pavilion, struggling to keep his balance each time the ground shook violently. After taking more than a few tumbles, he finally reached the doors leading into the Great Hall, where a trio of heavily armored Mini-Cons stood guard.
“Crumplezone!” Sparkplug said to the lead guard, a wide and broad-shouldered Mini-Con in dark blue. “I need to see Leader-1, immediately!”
“No can do, Sparkplug,” Crumplezone replied, crossing his arms. “He and the Council are in an emergency session and not seeing any guests.”
“Tell them its urgent! Tell them that the world is dying around them!”
“Pretty sure they already know that,” said Cannon, a maroon and green Mini-Con with a similar body-type. “It’s almost as if that’s they reason they’re having an emergency session.”
Sparkplug scowled as he rolled his hands into fists. “I need to see them. Now.”
The ground shook again and he lost his balance once more, landing on his rear end. Crumplezone and his two companions remained standing, looming over Sparkplug as he scrambled to get back on his feet.
“You’re wasting your time, Sparkplug,” the lead guard said. “Not to mention ours. I suggest you leave and enjoy life while you still can.”
“That’s what I’m trying to get at!” Sparkplug snapped. “People are dying out there and Leader-1 isn’t doing anything about it! What’s there for him and the Council to even discuss? Just mobilize the defenses and blast these invaders to kingdom come!”
Crumplezone said nothing, nor did either of the other two. Gritting his teeth, Sparkplug gathered his bearings and was about to get physical — regardless of how poorly it would end for him — when the doors to the Great Hall suddenly slid open behind the guards. Storming out was a tall Mini-Con in gray and blue plating, his face masked by a yellow visor and blue mouthplate.
“Leader-1!” Sparkplug exclaimed, flailing his arm to get the colony leader’s attention. “I need to speak with you!”
Leader-1 did not acknowledge him as he walked past both him and the three guards. Trailing behind him were the other members of the Council, all wearing varying expressions of concern and confusion.
“Leader-1, I must protest this decision!” said Councilor Anti-Blaze. “Even if what you’re proposing succeeds, it would have catastrophic consequences and—”
“The meeting is over, Anti-Blaze,” Leader-1 snapped. “You’ve all had your chance to speak. My mind has already been made; this decision is final.”
Anti-Blaze opened his mouth to protest further only to be pushed aside by Sparkplug as the yellow Mini-Con rushed to catch up with his leader.
“Leader-1, I must speak with you! People are dying by the thousands and the invaders—!”
“Do you think I don’t know that, Sparkplug?!” Leader-1 retorted, whirling on the smaller Mini-Con. “You’d have to be living under a rock to not realize—”
“You didn’t let me finish!” Sparkplug said. “The invaders are taking prisoners! They’re abducting as many Mini-Cons as they are killing!”
At this news, Leader-1 stopped dead in his tracks. The other councilors stopped as well, though unlike Leader-1, did not keep quiet about it.
“What?” said Councilor Scythe. “Why would they be doing that?”
Sparkplug shook his head. “I don’t know, but we can’t stand by and do nothing! We have to do something to stop them!”
“There’s nothing that can be done,” Leader-1 said quietly.
“What are you talking about?” Sparkplug asked. “We have defenses, don’t we? Use them!”
“It’s too late. Our fates have already been decided.”
“What are you talking about?” questioned Anti-Blaze. “Did you know this was going to happen?”
Before Leader-1 had a chance to answer, the ground shook again and everyone was thrown off their feet. As Sparkplug’s face collided with the floor, he heard the deafening sound of metal being ripped apart and rolled around to see the ceiling being torn asunder, giving him a full view of the monstrous starship hovering directly above the Pavilion. Centered in the vessel’s underside was a glowing light which intensified just as Sparkplug started to feel himself being pulled up by an invisible force.
As he, Leader-1, Crumplezone and his guards, and the members of the Mini-Con Council were pulled up towards the ship, all Sparkplug could do was gawk in terror as the cries of his friends dying and suffering filled his audio sensors.
Monacus, present day (100 years later)
Lord Gyconi, self-proclaimed ruler of the planet Monacus, let out a satisfied belch that carried the force equal to that of a small earthquake as he leaned back in his chair. His reptilian servant, Slizardo, suffered the brunt of this gassy assault and fell backwards onto his rear end, letting out a startled squawk as he hit the floor.
Paying no heed to his toady’s hardships, Gyconi wiped off the residue of his meal from his mouth before pressing a pudgy green finger down on his desk’s built-in comm, eager to get back to business. “Bosch!” he rumbled. “Any other visitors today?”
“Err, yes, milord,” replied his sleazy lieutenant. “Someone by the name of ‘Death’s Head’ is here for one of your job offerings.”
At this, Gyconi’s face lit up, his beady eyes widening as far as his lids would permit. “Ah! Death’s Head, you say? Let him in, let him in!”
Less than a minute later, the door to his office opened and a large metallic figure stepped in. Blue and gold armor covered a silver body that had the physique of some of the galaxy’s greatest gladiatorial warriors. Red horns protruded from a chrome-coated dome while a yellow light emitted from a grill-like facial feature that served as the visitor’s mouth. Crimson eyes glowed balefully at Gyconi as the warrior strode over to him and roughly took the seat opposite of the crime lord.
Gyconi’s wide mouth curved into a smile as he interlaced his hands over his rotund belly. “Death’s Head,” he greeted the warrior warmly. “It is an honor to finally meet you in person. Your reputation across the galaxy precedes you.”
“Hnn. I bet it does.” Death’s Head narrowed his eyes, as if studying the crime lord. “I’m here for your highest paying job,” he finally said after a pause.
Gyconi chuckled. “Ah, I would expect no less from someone like you. You’re not one to take small jobs, are you?”
When Death’s Head did not respond, Gyconi cleared his throat before reaching under his desk. His hand reemerged with a puck-shaped device which he slid across the table. The press of a button caused the holographic image of a horrifying creature to materialize.
Death’s Head’s eyes once again narrowed as he scrutinized the tiny image. “That’s not what I think it is, is it?” he asked.
“It is,” Gyconi affirmed.
The bounty hunter affixed his gaze back on the crime lord. “Dire Wraiths aren’t easy to capture, yes? Slippery little devils — planetary governments have collapsed because of their evil-doings, eh?”
“Indeed,” Gyconi nodded. “Which is why you are the first bounty hunter I’ve ever offered this job too—”
“Please.” Death’s Head raised a hand. “I prefer the term ‘Freelance Peacekeeping Agent.’ Much more formal and proper sounding, yes?”
Gyconi shrugged. “Suit yourself. My point still stands though; I would not trust this sort of job with any of my regular clients. If you are truly as great as the stories say, then I have full faith that you will be able to complete this job efficiently and effortlessly.” He paused to raise an eyebrow at the bounty hunter. “That is, if you are up for it.”
Death’s Head snorted. “Depends on what your price is.”
“Ten trillion credits.”
At this, all pretense of a tough attitude momentarily vanished as Death’s Head’s eyes widened in shock. “Ten trillion…? Do you even have that kind of money?”
“It makes up less than a tenth of my overall net worth,” Gyconi said wryly.
Death’s Head shook his head, though his look of bewilderment remained. “This guy must have pissed you off royally in the past, yes?”
Gyconi chuckled. “That would be an understatement. Let’s just say the two of us have a… tenuous past.”
“Not really my business, eh?” Death’s Head said with a shrug. He took the puck as he rose from his chair. “Any idea where I can find them?”
“Ah, now that’s the billion credit question,” Gyconi chortled. “It’s not so much a matter of where… so much as when.”
SCAVENGERS TWO
or, "The Crossover Nobody Asked For"
Set between The Prime Wars XVII and Pax Cybertronia I. Also serves as a prelude to Beyond Imagination.
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