TALES OF THE DISAPPEARED:
TARNISHED, PART SIX
Cycle 9564, Grindcore
Everything was falling apart, just as planned.
For the past five years, he had come to worry that his message had failed to make its way to the Autobots. He and his squad had been in combat with the Autobots on Veras Centralus and he had managed to shoot his message-carrying bullet straight into the badge of an “enemy” soldier, the method that he and Prowl had agreed upon. The Autobots had managed to safely pull out of the battlefield with their wounded and Agent 113 could only pray that his victim lived long enough for someone to notice the bullet. The message itself had contained not only Grindcore’s location, but its entire layout and a comprehensive list of staff and equipment—including every single smelting pool, every single metal grinder, every single electric chair….
He supposed he couldn’t blame the Autobots for taking five years to gather the resources and personnel necessary for a strike such as this. And seeing as how the Vis Vitalis was dominating the sky, he could tell they had sent their best.
“They’ve broken through the outer wall!” a voice carried through the air. “Fall back and regroup! Charger, prepare the turrets!”
Agent 113 was snapped back to reality as a green-plated Decepticon shouldered past him. He then stood to attention as a taller Decepticon with teal and gold armor stormed up to him.
“Dominator, I want you back inside,” Skyquake ordered. “I know you’re dying to tear these Autobots apart with your hooks and claws, but your talents are better served protecting the Commandant.”
“I will do whatever is asked of me, sir,” Agent 113 replied.
“I know. Now get to it.”
With a quick salute, Dominator converted to his alternate mode and retreated back into the main facility. Once inside, he found numerous Decepticons scrambling back and forth as they hurried to prepare the defenses. Given Grindcore’s alleged status as one of the most heavily fortified bases in Decepticon space, none of them could have ever predicted the Autobots being bold enough to attack them.
They also could never have predicted that one of their own was the one responsible for the attack.
Moving past the other Decepticons and heading deeper into the main facility, Dominator eventually made it to the Commandant’s office. The Commandant himself, with his large purple-plated build and double-barreled fusion cannon, was standing outside his quarters along with a red Decepticon jet whom Dominator knew by the name of Snare. As Dominator approached the pair, transforming back to his robot mode, the Commandant cast a glance at him, red optics glowing behind his insignia-shaped mask.
“What is it?” the Commandant grunted, not masking his impatience.
“Sir, Skyquake sent me to provide protection for you,” Dominator replied. “The Autobots have broken through the outer wall and are—”
“I know,” the Commandant interrupted him. “Snare here has informed me that they have already begun targeting the cell blocks to free the prisoners. You will take a squad down to make sure they don’t succeed in doing that.”
Dominator held back an involuntary frown. “But, sir—”
“I can look after myself,” the Commandant said. “Right now, I need you to go down there and kill every last Autobot you see. Regardless if they’re an invader or a prisoner.”
Dominator blinked. “You… you want us to start killing prisoners?”
“If Grindcore falls, everything falls with it.” The Commandant narrowed his optics. “Is there a problem?”
Dominator cleared his vocal processor. “Er, no, sir. Not at all. I will see to it at once.”
The next several hours passed by in a blur as he became numb to the world. It was a coping mechanism he had developed ever since he had taken up this job in order to preserve his cover and not succumbing to the guilt that racked him with every Autobot life he took. He barely registered heading down to the prisoners blocks, flanked by a dozen Decepticons, and opening fire on the Autobots that had already made their way there. He would watch as his Decepticon comrades delighted themselves in maiming their victims:
Scissorsaw picked up a hapless Autobot with his waldos and threw them into his chest grinder, enjoying their shrieks of agony as they were reduced to shrapnel;
Crucible laughed as he grabbed a screaming ‘bot with a pair of arms extending from his abdomen and shoving them into a mini-smelting chamber located in his chest;
Amp cackled as he trapped his victims in a web of lightning, electrocuting them and shorting out their circuits.
It was all too much for Dominator to bear. But there was nothing he can do about it. All he could do was continuing digging his claws into his Autobot brothers and joining his Decepticon comrades in laughing as he tore every last one of them to pieces….
* * *
The Fall of Grindcore had ended as quickly as it had begun.
It was difficult to say who had truly been the victor. Although the Autobots had succeeded in bringing Grindcore to ruins, they had also suffered heavy casualties and were forced to retreat with what Autobot prisoners they had rescued (and what Decepticons they had taken captive themselves) when a fleet of Decepticon warships arrived to provide reinforcements. The Vis Vitalis had barely squeezed past the Nemesis and its sister ships before making the jump to hyperspace, leaving behind the wreckage it had wrought.
The surviving Decepticons—a mere quarter of what had been originally stationed at Grindcore—stood amid the ruins of their fallen fortress as the Nemesis touched down in front of them, depositing Megatron and his inner circle. While many of his fellow Decepticons dropped to their knees in reverence to their leader, Damus stood resolute as Megatron strode up to him, red optics flaring with barely contained rage.
“So,” Megatron growled, “this is what you have to show for yourself.”
“My liege,” Damus started to say, “I claim full responsi—”
Megatron silenced him by striking him across the face, knocking off his mask and bringing him to his knees. Damus reached for his insignia-shaped mask only for Megatron to kick it aside. The Decepticon leader then pressed the barrel of his fusion cannon against the commandant’s head.
“Give me one good reason why I should not obliterate you here and now,” Megatron said darkly.
“The Autobots caught us off-guard, my lord!” Damus replied. “Someone must have leaked our location and security details to them!”
“If that is the case, then they did so while under your supervision!” Megatron’s face twisted into a sneer. “Blaming others for your own failure will do you no favors, Glitch.”
Damus twitched at the use of his abandoned nickname and he pounded the ground with his fist. “My name,” he snarled, “is Damus.”
“Your name will soon be nothing.” The fusion cannon mounted on Megatron’s arm began to hum as the inside of its barrel glowed purple. “Any last words?”
Damus stared into the barrel, his face bathed in its violet glow. He said nothing, for he had already spoken his last words. The concept of death did not bother him at this point; at least he would die a Decepticon.
“My liege, may I protest this unnecessary execution?”
Damus’s gaze snapped to a familiar purple-plated Decepticon standing behind Megatron, his single yellow optic focused on the commandant himself. A low growl emitted from Megatron’s throat but he did not lower his arm cannon nor turn to address the interrupter.
“You may not, Shockwave.”
“I believe Damus can still provide us with worth—”
“Of course you believe that,” Megatron snapped. “He was your student.”
“My history with him is irrelevant,” Shockwave said. “What I mean is that we should think twice before eliminating one of the relatively few known Point One Percenters in our ranks.”
“A Point One Percenter who fails to defend one of our most critical bases has no worth in my optics.”
“Indeed, his failure here has dealt us a major blow,” Shockwave admitted. “However, perhaps there is a way for us to salvage this failure.”
This was enough to give Megatron pause and the Decepticon leader finally tilted the fusion cannon away from Damus’s face, though he did not fully lower it. “Salvage?”
“Look around.” Shockwave gestured to some of the other Decepticons standing among the ruins; not to Skyquake and his pathetic ilk, but to Crucible, Scissorsaw, and Dominator. “The fact that some of these soldiers are still standing after withstanding such an attack from the Autobots shows that they are worth more than the average Genericon. Perhaps rather than punish them for their fortitude, we should reward them.”
Megatron narrowed his optics. “Where are you going with this?”
“Without Grindcore, we no longer have a means to imprison and execute Decepticons who go against our cause,” Shockwave explained. “Perhaps instead of devoting precious resources to build another such facility, we should invest in something more… efficient. Such as an executioner squad made for dealing with Decepticons who pose a threat to our agenda.”
Megatron seemed to mull over this concept for a moment. Returning his gaze to Damus, he regarded the former commandant at his mercy… and a grin broke out on his face.
“Once again, your former teacher come to your rescue.” Lowering his fusion cannon, Megatron extended a hand to Damus. “What do you say? How do you feel about bringing justice to the Decepticon Empire.”
Damus stared at the proffered hand for no more than a second before eagerly grabbing it.
“I… would be greatly honored, my lord.”
No comments:
Post a Comment