EIGHT: THE RENEGADE WHO HAD IT MADE
Cybertron, thousands of years ago
“Waruders?”
“It’s Old Destron for ‘evil invader,’” Delta Magnus explained. He stood opposite Grimlock and his team of Dynobots at the meeting table, separated by a holographic display of various insectoid Transformers. “According to antique records, they were a splinter faction of one of the Thirteen Tribes and frequently clashed with the Diaclona Tribe until they were driven away by Nova Prime.”
Snarl snorted dismissively. “That’s a story for protoforms. What are they really?”
“Right now, they are a force to be reckoned with, and the Decepticons are using them to bolster their forces.” Delta Magnus frowned. “Although I’m afraid that they won’t be able to control them for long. Waruders aren’t known for following orders that don’t come from their king.”
“These things have a king?” asked Sludge.
“Yes, the King Waruder, although sightings of him have been rare.” Delta Magnus pressed a button on the meeting table and the hologram changed to show a map of Cybertron. “Right now, the largest concentration of Waruder activity is in the Simfur region. Our analysts suspect that their nest could be located somewhere there.”
Swoop nudged Grimlock with his elbow. “Hey, that’s your home turf isn’t it?”
Grimlock merely grunted in response.
The hologram dissipated and Delta Magnus placed his arms behind his back. “I wouldn’t have selected your for this mission if I didn’t have complete confidence that you would be able to perform it efficiently. You Dynobots have received many commendations from two past Primes, and Sentinel Prime has full faith that you will succeed in this task.”
Slag pounded his fists together. “Just point us to the target, and we’ll blow it up!”
A faint smile crossed Delta Magnus’ face. “That’s the idea. Any questions before we send you out?”
“Just one,” Grimlock said. “Will we get seconds?”
Savage Land, now
The memory faded as Grimlock felt himself return to consciousness. As his visual sensors came back online, he quickly found that he was no longer at the Maximal camp but was instead in some sort of dark, dingy room. Almost like a cell. In fact, that was probably what it was.
The last thing he remembered were the Waruders descending down on the camp, and he could still hear their incessant buzzing playing over and over again in his head. He remembered being so confident during the First War that the Waruders would be useless cannon fodder that he and his Dynobots could easily shred through at the time. Little did they know…
A groan from the side caused him to notice that he was not alone in the cell. The other four Dinobots were also present, including Swoop who was still mending from his wounds. There was no sign of Slash, or Wheelie for that matter, let alone any of the Maximals.
“Where… where are we?” asked Sludge.
“In a cell,” grunted Snarl.
“I can see that, but where is this cell?”
“Two guesses, and either one of them end with ‘-Con.’”
“Quiet,” Swoop murmured. “I hear someone coming….”
Seconds later, a steel door creaked open and Grimlock looked up to see a black and orange mech enter the room. The metallic visage of a lion was prominently displayed on their chestplate, and the familiar voice that emitted from his vocoder immediately gave away the Predacon’s identity.
“Ah, finally awake, are we?” Razorclaw said. “Good. We can begin the procedure.”
“Razorclaw?” Grimlock grunted. “What… what are you doing here?”
Razorclaw chuckled. “Why so surprised? You do realize where you are, don’t you?”
“Maximals told us that the Predacons were being led by something called the Tripredacus Council….”
“Well, yes, they are,” Razorclaw replied. “Technically, our presence here is… need to know. The Tripredacus Council runs things while we focus on more… personal endeavors.”
“Stop talking riddles,” Slag snapped. “Would rather fight you than listen to you blabber.”
“Oh, there’ll be plenty of time for that. But first… I had something else in mind for the five of you.”
“Not interested,” Grimlock snarled.
“I think you will be.” Razorclaw’s voice took on a darker tone as he unsheathed a golden sword. “Because if not, then I will gladly execute every last Autobot and Maximal that we have captured… and their energon will be on your hands, Grimlock.”
“Don’t listen to him, Grim’,” said Slag. “Just trying to intimidate you.”
Grimlock ignored him, instead staring at the Predacon leader. After a moment, he hung his head low. “Fine. What do you want from us?”
“I swear to fraggin’ God…” Slag mumbled under his breath, shaking his head.
Razorclaw seemed to grin behind his faceplate as he sheathed his sword. “Follow me. I have something to show you.”
Hoover Dam
“There he is. It looks like Shatter’s report indeed checked out.”
“Uh-huh.”
Nightbird’s unenthusiastic response did little to damper Bug Bite’s own high spirits. Disregarding the small humans that were scurrying to find some cover, the white-plated mercenary stepped towards the remains of the false Megatron that had been secretly discovered by Shatter and Dropkick thirty years ago. His time in the Decepticon Secret Service and later the Secret Order had made him privy to such classified records… and it was because of those records that he knew the exact extent of the false Megatron’s damage and just how much of him was salvageable.
Approaching the ruined disembodied head of the faux Decepticon leader, Bug Bite analyzed it for a bit until he found an exposed access port that led directly into its main processor. Producing a small tube-shaped device, he inserted it directly into the hole and switched it on, beginning the uploading process. As soon as he did so, the eyes of the disembodied head came to life.
“…am… Megatron. I… am… Megatron.”
Bug Bite chuckled. “If only that were the case. I’m afraid you’ve been lied to, my friend.”
“Lied to… no… Prime… must kill… Optimus Prime…”
“Should everything go as planned, you just might get a chance to do so. But right now, I need you to fulfill a different purpose.”
“Serve… no one… I… am… Mega…”
The faux Decepticon’s words trailed off as his eyes shut off for good. The upload process complete, Bug Bite removed the device from the disembodied head and stored it away.
“There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
Nightbird stared at him with an impassive expression. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Trust me. This has all been in the works for a very long time. I wouldn’t be doing any of this if I didn’t have any confidence that it would succeed.”
Nightbird sniffed dismissively. “Whatever. Can we return to the Fool’s Errand now? Doubledealer’s sure to have noticed our absence by now.”
“You and Mudflap are free to orbital jump back to the ship.” Bug Bite grinned. “I have my own means of transportation now.”
Nightbird’s optics narrowed. “You’re bailing out on us, aren’t you?”
Bug Bite shrugged. “I wouldn’t use those exact words. My allegiance with Doubledealer and his mercenaries has always been more of a… business expenditure in my eyes. One that has come to its natural conclusion.”
“Doubledealer won’t see it that way.” Nightbird unsheathed an energy sword. “Neither do I.”
Bug Bite sighed. “I was afraid it would come to this.”
Brandishing his cerebro device, he fired a shell straight at Nightbird’s cranium. The Cyber-Ninja deftly blocked it with her sword, burning it to ash with its flame. In the second it took for her to make that move, Bug Bite transformed into his alternate mode and drove straight into her legs, knocking her off her feet as he sped out of the chamber. As soon as she recovered, Nightbird converted into a sleek silver car and sped after the renegade mercenary.
As soon as the two were gone, Agent Simmons and Captain Lennox emerged from their hiding spot along with the rest of Lennox’s team. The two men exchanged grim looks as they looked to the dormant head of the false Megatron to where the two robots had driven out of the room.
“This is bad,” Lennox said.
“Yup,” Simmons replied.
* * *
Bumblebee could only drive out of the GroundBridge so fast. The first thing he saw was Prowl laying on the ground, bound up in some sort of energy chain, and a dormant Optimus Prime in alternate mode. Then, he saw a small white car—not to dissimilar from his old body—driving out of the entrance to Hoover Dam, followed closely by a sleek silver car. They did not look like any Autobots he recognized, and the black emblem resembled that of the one worn by the Mercenaries Kup had described from his adventures on Planet X.
Transforming to robot mode, Bumblebee deployed his stingers and began firing at the two mercenaries. The silver one broke off and drove towards him, converting to robot mode and launching herself at him in a jumping kick. Her foot made contact with his chestplate and he fell backwards to the ground. The silver femme then crouched down so that her purple faceplate was inches away from his.
“Stay out of this, Autobot,” she hissed before launching off of him and running after the white car, which was headed straight for a stationary Expanse.
As Bumblebee struggled to get back up, he saw Optimus stir and transform out of his truck mode, having finally broken free of whatever mode lock he had been placed under. Missing the white car as it drove past him, he set his sights on the silver femme and moved to intercept her, swinging an arm which she narrowly avoided.
“You fools!” the ninja mercenary snapped. “Don’t you get what he’s about to do?”
Confused, Optimus looked over to see that the white car had already made it to Expanse, converting to robot mode so he could climb atop of the blue jet. The Autobot leader started to move towards them, but Bumblebee could tell that it was already too late. Within seconds, an aura of energy began to glow around Expanse and his hijacker, and in a flash of light both were gone.
“Figures,” the silver femme muttered. “I suppose that’s my cue.”
She pressed a button on her wrist and Bumblebee was forced to shutter his optics as a flash of light surrounded her. After the light had receded, the mercenary was nowhere to be found, leaving only him, Optimus, and Prowl.
“Seems like everyone is doing orbital jumps these days,” Bumblebee muttered.
While the yellow Autobot rushed over to Prowl to free him from his bindings, Optimus raised a hand to his communicator. “Wheeljack, we just lost Expanse. Is there any way you, Perceptor, or Brainstorm can track him and find out where he went?”
“It’ll take some time, and I can’t promise anything,” Wheeljack replied over the radio. “Why? What just happened?”
“He’s been abducted by some mercenaries, who also might have done something with the false Megatron in Hoover Dam. One of them just made an orbital jump, which might mean their ship is in Earth’s orbit. See if you can find anything there as well.”
“Already on it.”
After ending the call with Wheeljack, Optimus turned over to Bumblebee and Prowl, the latter who had finally been freed from the energy chains. “Summon the rest of the team, and then open a GroundBridge to the Ark’s location in Oregon.”
Bumblebee gave him a confused look. “The Ark? Why there?”
“Knowing what Expanse is capable of, I have a hunch as to what this mercenary could be planning to do with him,” Optimus replied. “And I want to stop him while we still have a chance.”
The Fool’s Fortune
“There you are!” Doubledealer snapped as Nightbird materialized onto the bridge of the Fool’s Errand, primary ship of the Mercenaries. “What the frag were you guys doing down there? And where’s Bug Bite and Mudflap?”
“Forget about Mudflap,” Nightbird said. “Bug Bite’s escaped with his prize.”
Doubledealer scowled. “Prize? What prize?”
“No time to explain.” Nightbird shoved past him and stormed over to Exhaust, who was relaxing at the ship’s controls. “How quickly can you get us back to Elpasos?”
“Elpasos?” Exhaust chewed on the cy-gar hanging from his mouth. “Why there?”
“We need to find Death’s Head again. He’s the only one who can—”
“Oh no!” Doubledealer said. “No way in hell am I dealing with that bucket of bolts again! We still haven’t even met with our client here on this mudball!”
Nightbird glared at him. “Your precious client is the least of your concerns right now. Set a course back to Elpasos now or else we’ll all be slagged!”
Doubledealer scowled and looked as if he was about to retort again when Detritus spoke up from his station.
“Uh, this might not be a good time,” the Junkion mercenary said. “But we’re getting a call from our employer.”
Doubledealer whirled around, his anger replaced with anxiousness. “Oh, frag. Not now of all times…” After rapping his helm with his fist, he then let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. Put him on.”
Detritus did so and within moments the visual of a Quintesson Judge appeared on the ship’s main viewscreen.
“Deseeus,” Doubledealer said, trying to keep his voice from betraying his nervousness. “What can I do for you?”
The Quintesson’s carapace rotated to place his dour face of Judgment front and center. “It has been a while since I last heard from you, Doubledealer. I trust that you are not bailing out on your duties like you did back at Planet X.”
Doubledealer smiled weakly. “Of course not. That was a miscalculation on my part. I simply thought that the presence of two Titans meant that the situation on the planet was… no longer under our control. After all, as capable and competent as my mercenaries and I are, Titans are way out of our area of expertise.”
Deseeus spun to reveal his grinning face, letting out a hearty belt of laughter. “Ah, but of course! I understand completely. Fortunately, we were able to evacuate most of our numbers from the planet in time, save for the few that unfortunately perished in the prisoners’ breakout. We have been spending the last several months plotting out our next course of action… which is where you come into play.”
Doubledealer frowned. “And how is that?”
“I have recently made an agreement with another one of our… employees, to use a term you are familiar with. You will be working with him very closely for your next job; a job for which he will provide you with the details.”
“And who is this other ‘employee?’” Doubledealer asked.
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
A gasp from Detritus caused Doubledealer to turn around, and he instantly froze. Standing there at the other side of the bridge was a mech in black and teal armor plating, bearing a design that was strikingly similar to that of the Autobot leader Optimus Prime. In his hands was a red glowing sword, which the mysterious mech had pointing towards the ground.
“Who… who the frag are you?” Exhaust asked.
“I have gone by more than a couple of names,” the mysterious mech said. “But for the purposes of our alliance… you can call me Scourge.”
On the viewscreen, Deseeus’s body rotated to show the face of Death. “I trust that you will all be able to get along,” the Quintesson Judge said darkly. “It will be most important for the job I have for you all….”
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