TEN: THE KING IS CROWNED
He remembered the day like it was yesterday.
It was the third year of the First Great War, not long after the Kudon Act had been passed. He was still fresh out of the academy when he and his fellow graduates were thrust into the Elite Flying Corps after nearly half of the unit had been wiped out during one of the Decepticons’ early attacks.
He remembered standing there with his teammates, facing off against a sole Decepticon who had once been their comrade. They didn’t have a name of their own but was these days known as a Predacon; a member of one of the many disparate tribes that had been united under the Decepticon banner. The black and orange winged beast waved their golden sword high in the sky.
“I challenge you, Autobot, to a duel, one-on-one. Just the two of us. The winner takes the name of the loser.”
He remembered hearing Strafe snort behind him. “What kind of stupid rule is that?”
“It’s an ancient rule,” said Doubleheader. “It was how many Cybertronians earned their names during the War of the Thirteen Tribes.”
Strafe snorted. “Nerd. Anyway, this isn’t the War of the Nineteen Tribes or whatever. You don’t need to do this, Divebomb.”
Divebomb looked back at his comrade and shrugged. “Why not? He’s just one lousy ‘Con. I can take him.”
The Predacon grinned at him wickedly. “If you fight me, then you agree to the conditions I have outlined. Do you accept, Divebomb of Vos?”
Divebomb smiled back at him. “Hell yeah, I do.”
The rest became a blur, and before he knew it Divebomb was laying on his back, staring up helplessly at the sky. The Predacon laughed as he flew away while his comrades looked down at him in disgust.
“Loser,” said Strafe.
“I can’t believe you lost to him,” said Doubleheader.
“Almost makes me ashamed to be an Autobot,” said Dogfight.
The bot formerly known as Divebomb closed his eyes, trying to shut them out. When he opened them again, they were gone and replaced by a strange bestial figure looming over him. The beast warrior crouched down and extended a hand to him.
“On your feet.”
“Who… who are you?” he asked.
“Your past. And your future. Take my hand, and you will be able to reclaim your name.”
He looked at the hand and then at the strange mech’s face. There was something familiar about it; something warm and accepting. Without much hesitation, Swoop took the hand and stood up.
The Ark, Earth
“What exactly are we looking for here?” Bumblebee asked.
“Nothing,” Optimus Prime said as he paced around the interior of the Ark. “Not yet, at least.”
“Straight answers, please. I already have to put up with this from Perceptor…”
“Based on what we know about Expanse, he is capable of traveling across time and dimensions,” Optimus explained. “Meaning that, if Bug Bite now has access to his abilities, then he is likely using him to travel either forward or back in time.”
“And that brings us to here… how?”
Prowl looked up at Optimus. “You think Bug Bite is going to try and change history. Specifically with our awakening on Earth.”
“It is one of many possibilities,” Optimus said. “I’m not sure how we can stop him from here, if we even can, but if there is an opportunity to do so, I don’t want to miss it.”
While the Autobot leader continued pacing, Prowl walked over to the spot where Teletraan-I had once been. While the supercomputer had since been relocated to Autobot City, its original model still remained on the ship, and he was pretty sure he could still access the computer’s backup logs. If there was a way to view its records from the days leading up to the Autobots’ awakening on Earth, then perhaps they would be able to determine whether or not Bug Bite had tampered with history… at least before it was too late.
As he did this, Optimus paused to access his comlink. “Any luck in finding Expanse yet, Wheeljack?”
“Well, Perceptor got a blip of something on the radar. He’s still in the current year, in case that was your major concern, but he’s no longer on Earth. Still trying to pinpoint an exact location.”
“That’s good to hear. Keep working and get back to me as soon as—”
“There’s something else,” Wheeljack interjected. “You know that Timemaze thing we, uh, repossessed?”
“Yes…?” Optimus said tentatively.
“Well, uh, Brainstorm says it’s acting up. I don’t know exactly what that means, ‘cos he was talking really fast, but maybe Prowl could come back here and look at it.”
Optimus looked over to Prowl and the black and gold Autobot had already turned away from the computer, having overheard the conversation. “I’m already on my way,” he said as he hurried for the exit.
“Prowl is en route,” Optimus reported back to Wheeljack. “Keep me updated in case something happens.”
“Will do, Prime.”
While Prowl transformed and drove off, Bumblebee took his place at Teletraan-I, reviewing the data records that were now displayed on the computer’s monitor. As he went through them, a concerned expression began to cross his face.
“That’s strange….”
“What is it?” Optimus asked.
“A lot of the data has been either corrupted or lost. From Cycle 9701 onward, there’s virtually nothing.”
“Likely due to the crash.”
“Right, except… now I’m having trouble finding anything from before then. It’s as if there was never anything there to begin with.” Bumblebee looked up at Optimus. “Wheeljack didn’t have any trouble transferring Teletraan’s files from here to Autobot City, did he?”
“If he had, I’m sure he would have said something.” Optimus was now standing beside Bumblebee, studying Teletraan’s screen himself. Indeed, it seem as if every record that had been logged into the computer was being erased in real time.
“You don’t think we’re too late, do you?” Bumblebee asked quietly.
Optimus was silent for a long moment, simply staring at the screen that was quickly becoming blank. When he finally spoke, his tone was low and grave. “Let me get Perceptor and Brainstorm on the line. Before we run out of time….”
* * *
He remembered the day like it was yesterday.
The crowds roared as he threw his opponent across the stadium, sending him crashing into a wall. The bodies were quickly piling up, with Decepticons laying in every single corner.
“You’re gonna run out of bots to throw at me!” he laughed, raising his arms towards the arena’s primary observer.
The black and purple mech stared down at him, steam exhausting from the grill that served as his mouthplace. Exchanging a single glance with one of his lieutenants, Clench stepped forward and projected his voice to be heard by everyone in the arena.
“Send in the next fighter.”
Behind him, one of the gates opened and a massive purple Decepticon stormed in, swinging a mace that was nearly as big as he was.
“TREMBLE BEFORE THE MIGHT OF LUGNUT!”
Snarl grinned as he turned to face his opponent. “Oh, is that all? That’s really the best you have to off—”
Lugnut brought his mace down and the ground exploded beneath Snarl’s feet. The entire arena erupted in a storm of bodies and debris, mechanical parts flying everywhere. Snarl managed to stay on his feet throughout the entire ordeal, raising his arm to shield his face from the oncoming debris.
When the dust finally settled, he was standing in the ruins of what had once been the arena. Clench and his fighters were nowhere to be found, and instead he was surrounded by several Autotroopers, all pointing with their guns raised. They were speaking to him, but he could not make out the words; his attention was instead gravitating towards the solitary mechanoid standing across from him, their appearance indicating a bestial alternate mode.
“Who the frag are you?” Snarl asked.
The stranger deflected the answer as they instead said, “You are looking for a fight worthy of your talents.”
Snarl crossed his arms and shrugged, avoiding eye contact with the stranger. “Yeah, sure.”
“You are looking for the glory of mortal combat. That one fight that is a matter of life or death. Where only one of you will survive.”
“Okay, okay. You’ve got my number.” Snarl grunted. “What of it?”
The stranger extended a hand. “I can give you that battle. Just take my hand.”
Snarl looked up, glowering at the other mech. “And if I don’t?”
“Then you will keep fighting, never knowing the taste of true glory.”
Snarl stared at him in silence for what could very well have been an eternity. Then, ignoring the Autotroopers with their guns pointed at him, he walked over and took the hand.
Savage Land
“Grah!” Psychobat snarled with irritation as he retracted his needles from Wrangler’s necks. “What in Onyx’s name is going on out there?!”
Wrangler groaned as his optics flickered back on, recovering from the daze he had been under as Pyschobat had explored his memories. He wasn’t sure what the Predacon had managed to get out of him, but he was going to make sure that Psychobat didn’t get anywhere with them. First, however, he needed to figure out how to break out of his restraints….
Psychobat turned away from him and walked towards the door. The walls were shaking from whatever sort of battle was going on outside. Swinging the door open, the purple and green Predacon stuck his head outside.
“Can you guys keep it—”
Psychobat never got a chance to finish his sentence, as a green-feathered Velociraptor jumped out in front of him and closed its mouth over his head. With all of its might, the raptor tore the Predacon’s head off and immediately began munching on it, letting his body crumple lifelessly to the floor.
“Sweet spark, Gnash, I didn’t think you were that ravenous….” A raptor with white feathers then poked its head into the room and, upon spotting Wrangler, transformed into a mechanical robot mode. “Guys! There’s someone in here!”
“So?” the voice of a third raptor called back. “Just let Gnash eat them too.”
“No, Slice! I think he’s an Autobot. You know, one of the good guys.”
“Debatable,” Slice retorted.
Wrangler frowned as he stared at the white and gold raptor-bot. “Who… who are you? You look like Predacons, but….”
“Nope!” The white and gold bot proudly puffed out her chest. “We’re Raptoricons! Ten times better than those lousy Preds! Name’s Shred, by the way.” She pointed back to the green raptor still feasting on Psychobat’s remains. “That over there is Gnash. Slice and our leader Thrash are outside.”
“Uh… pleasure to meet you. I’m Autobot agent JP12.”
Shred winced. “Ooh, that’s a lousy name, even by our standards. Got a better one?”
Wrangler sighed. “Fine. Call me Wrangler then.”
“Now that’s more like it! C’mon, let’s get you out of there.” Shred then proceeded to undo Wrangler’s restraints, freeing him from the stone slab. “There! Now, do you have any idea why we’re floating up into the sky?”
Wrangler stared at the Raptoricon, confused. “No? What do you mean?”
“Oh, never mind. It’s probably nothing.” Shred transformed back into her beast mode. “Now come on! Let’s go scrap some Preds!”
Getting over his bemusement, Wrangler simply shrugged. “That’s something I can get behind, at least.”
* * *
He remembered the day like it was yesterday.
He was standing awkwardly in the room, listening to them shout and bicker. He heard his name constantly being spoken, yet he could not pick up what exactly they were saying about him. He could tell that none of it was good.
Eventually, his commanding officer threw his hands up in defeat. “I can’t live with him anymore, Magnus! He is more of a hindrance than an asset!”
Delta Magnus steepled his hands over his desk. “You want me to transfer him out of your unit?”
“Yes! Please! I’m so sick of having to dig him out of the same pits that he makes!”
Delta Magnus sighed. “Very well. I’ll see to it that it’s done.”
Sludge blinked and the scene changed. It was the same room, and Delta Magnus was still there, but the commanding officer was different. Their exchange was nearly identical to the last, and Sludge blinked again. The cycle repeated itself, again and again. He was already losing track of the times he had been transferred to another unit. How long before he was drummed out of the Primal Vanguard entirely?
When he blinked for what had to be the hundredth time, there was no Delta Magnus or commanding officer. Instead, a strange bestial warrior was sitting at what was Magnus’s desk. The mech stared at Sludge over folded hands.
“You are scared of not finding somewhere to belong,” the stranger said.
Sludge shifted awkwardly, unsure on what to say.
“You are tired of being written off as a clumsy oaf,” the stranger continued. “Of being overlooked for anything but your sheer strength.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Sludge rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “Sorry, but who are you, exactly?”
“I’m the one who’s going to give you that sense of belonging. I’m the one who is going to recognize you for more than just being a clumsy yet powerful oaf.” A wicked grin crossed the beast’s face. “I am Volcanicus. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
He extended a hand and Sludge, not seeing anything wrong with what the strange mech was saying, eagerly stepped over to shake it.
* * *
“We’re floating. The island is floating.”
“What?” Terrorsaur shoved aside Scorponaut to peer out of the fortress’s window. All he could see was the surrounding jungles of the Savage Land. “The hell are you talking about?”
Scorponaut squeezed back next to him and pointed outside with one of his claws. “Look at the horizon. The mountain line isn’t there anymore. It’s like… it’s like the part of the land that we’re on is breaking off and rising up towards the sky. Can’t you feel the shakes?”
“I do but I thought that was just because of the escaped prisoners.” Terrorsaur shook his head. “I still think you’re talking nonsense.”
While the two Predacons continued bickering, Blackarachnia was pacing back and forth, hoping her anxiety wasn’t too obvious. Ever since the Predacons had established base in this “savage land,” she had always felt that something was off about it, and it wasn’t just because of the humans and creatures that were supposedly temporally displaced.
She cast her mind back to half a year ago, when she and the rest of Gnashteeth’s band of Predacons (”Darksyders” as Terrorsaur liked to call themselves) had fallen through something called the Warren after attempting to make a transwarp jump. The attempt had torn the ship asunder and she and the rest of the crew, save for Gnashteeth, had been deposited here in the Savage Land. It wasn’t long after that that the rest of the Predacons somehow found their way to the mysterious realm, and the Tripredacus Council set up fort in a fortress they had just discovered. Then the Maximals started showing up, bringing them to this current conflict.
Everything about it felt almost… engineered. As if it had been planned and arranged by some mysterious force. Was Gnashteeth behind it, perhaps? No one had seen him in the last six months, and it wasn’t the first time he had vanished without explanation. He hadn’t even explained the journey he had went on during his first disappearance…
The not knowing drove Blackarachnia insane. If no one was going to give her the answers she sought… then she would have to get them herself.
Transforming into her spider mode, she quickly skittered out of the room, leaving Terrorsaur and Scorponaut to their devices. As she made her way through the maze of hallways, she could hear the sounds of battle still going on between her fellow Predacons and the escaped Maximals. She turned a corner that she hoped would lead her away from the battle… only to run straight into a gray-furred winged Maximal.
“Stop right there, evildoer!” Silverbolt proclaimed as he raised a pair of swords. “You shall not get past me!”
“Oh, for spark’s sake.” Blackarachnia sighed as she transformed to her robot mode and readied her crossbow. “I really don’t have time for this. Get out of my way or I will blast you straight to the Pit.”
Silverbolt seemed to stagger in his stance, although he seemed less taken aback by her threat and more by her appearance. Blackarachnia was well aware of the fact that her Predacon body bore a striking resemblance to female organics, and the other Predacons liked to remind her of the fact by making disparaging remarks towards her. Silverbolt, for his part, did not make any such remarks and instead struggled to maintain his defensive stance.
“I do not seek to fight you, maiden,” the Maximal Fuzor said. “Lay down your weapons and I shall bring no harm to you.”
Blackarachnia sneered. “I don’t think so. This is your last chance to get out of my way.”
Silverbolt narrowed his eyes and the two stared at each other in a standstill as the fortress trembled around them. Eventually, Blackarachnia couldn’t take it anymore and she fired her crossbow, launching a web of energy straight at the Maximal. Silverbolt crossed his blades in an attempt to block it but it was no use, and his body immediately seized up before falling to the ground.
Smirking to herself, Blackarachnia sauntered over to where the Maximal lay and crouched down, bringing her face close to his.
“I do appreciate your chivalry though. It’s pretty refreshing.”
Unable to move or speak, Silverbolt could only stare in silence as Blackarachnia continued on her way. Keeping to the shadows, she used her beast mode to crawl on the walls and ceiling, avoiding other escaped Maximals as they ran from their cells and towards the sounds of battle. None of them noticed her as she made her way towards the chambers of the Tripredacus Council.
She came to a stop when she heard voices shouting up ahead. At first, she thought someone had spotted her again. But as she inched her way forward, she instead saw a white and red Maximal shouting out orders as he released a group of his comrades from their cell.
“Wolfang, see if you can find where Primal is! Sonar, Nightglider, go join up with Silverbolt!”
Blackarachnia narrowed her eight eyes as she recognized the appearance of Leo Prime, former leader of the Maximals. From what she understood, he had long since been disgraced after he had led a small band of anarchists here on Earth six months ago. Why the Maximals would continue to put up with him, let alone his orders, was beyond her.
As the escaped Maximals ran past, unaware of Blackarachnia’s presence above them, Leo Prime transformed to his lion form and began running in the opposite direction. Blackarachnia immediately took pursuit, quickly deducing that he was headed for the same destination as she was.
“Fool,” she thought to herself as she followed him. “Do you really think you can take on the entire council by yourself? Such typical naivete.”
There were about a few turns away from the chambers when Leo Prime abruptly stopped and turned around, his lion’s mane unfurling to reveal a pair of blasters. He fired them and Blackarachnia cried out as she came crashing down.
“You think I wouldn’t have sensors to tell me when I’m being followed?” Leo Prime growled as he transformed to robot mode.
Blackarachnia hissed back at him as she did the same. “You’re an idiot if you think you can confront the Tripredacus Council all on your own. I don’t think you quite realize what they’re capable of.”
“I know enough,” Leo Prime grunted. “Besides, I’d rather die fighting them than to live with the knowledge that I ran. I already have so much to make up for… might as well do it here.”
“So you’re doing this for atonement?” Blackarachnia snorted. “Your Maximals are already forgiving enough as it is by keeping you around. This might be a bit of an overreaction on your part.”
“Whatever. I don’t need advice from a Predacon.”
The former Maximal leader turned to leave and Blackarachnia smirked. “Never turn your back on a femme fatale,” she whispered.
Before Leo Prime had a chance to react, an energy web from Blackarachnia’s crossbow hit him in square in the back. Even before he hit the ground, she was already stepping over him and making her way towards the Council Chambers
As she turned the corner, she expected to see some of the Council’s guards. Instead, however, the stairwell leading up to the doors was vacant of anyone, guard or otherwise. Not wasting any time to dwell on their absence, Blackarachnia made her way up to the doors and pushed them open.
She immediately wished she hadn’t.
* * *
He remembered the day like it was yesterday.
He was sitting in the brig, because apparently having a severe disagreement with your field commander was cause for lockup. He had long since lost track of the time; he wasn’t sure if it had been months or years by this point. He heard the cell door open but he did not look up; he knew his time wasn’t up yet.
“Good news, Grim’,” he heard the warden said bitterly. “You’ve got a new cellmate.”
This time, Grimlock looked up, just in time to see a red and gray mech be shoved into the room. The newcomer immediately fixed him with a nasty look.
“You,” Slag growled.
“Me,” Grimlock replied.
Slag shook his head as he sat at the wall opposite of where Grimlock was sitting. “Remember this day too well. What was it you were in for? Getting into a fight with your field commander?”
“Something like that. Least I didn’t shoot him in the back.”
Slag smirked. “Certainly seemed to impress you at the time.”
Grimlock sighed as he leaned forward. “I can tell you’re upset with me, Slag.”
“What gave it away? Me punching you in the face?”
“You were never really subtle.”
Slag snorted as he crossed his arms, looking away from Grimlock. “You showed weakness. Let Scorponok beat you.”
“Is that all?”
“You were in the CR chamber for six months. You’ve gotten out of there quicker for less.”
Grimlock grunted. “I’m getting old, Slag. We both are. Been at this for too long, fighting in too many wars. For too many Primes.”
“Can agree on that,” Slag muttered.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Grimlock asked. “There has to be, for you to be acting like this.”
Finally, Slag turned his head to meet Grimlock’s gaze. “You remember why we became friends? Why we even formed the Dynobots in the first place?”
“So we could do things our way. Not follow orders.”
“Yet here we are, trying to rescue some Maximals… because we were ordered to. We defended cities from Waruders because we were ordered to. We fought Decepticons because we were ordered to.”
“You enjoyed it, though,” Grimlock pointed out.
“Besides the point,” Slag snapped. “Point is, you not the same mech I knew back when we first met in this brig. You make a big show about not carrying about Prime and his methods, yet you don’t seem to fight it. You just shrug your shoulders and go along with it.”
Grimlock was silent as he listened to his comrade’s rant, and even when he was finished he had no words to say. No rebuttals to offer. Because deep down, he knew that Slag was right. He had become complacent in recent years, become less defiant as he had back in the early days of the war. Perhaps it was because of age and fatigue… or perhaps it was weakness.
“A weakness that you can both overcome.”
Grimlock moved with a start and both he and Slag turned to see a tall bestial figure standing there in the cell with them. He wasn’t sure how, but Grimlock somehow knew that this was Volcanicus, the original Beast King of Eukaris as described by the Tripredacus Council.
Volcanicus raised his arms to the two Dinobots. “Your comrades have already joined me in unity. Follow your brothers in coming together and unlocking your true potential.”
As he said this, the other three Dinobots suddenly appeared from behind Volcanicus. Sludge, Snarl, and Swoop stared at their two comrades with expectant smiles.
“Come, friends,” said Swoop. “Let us become one.”
Slag exchanged a look with Grimlock before rising to his feet. “Just what’s going on here?”
“Join us and we can show you,” said Sludge. “All of our worries and concerns will go away… once we become Volcanicus.”
“No.” Grimlock stood up as well, getting between Slag and the others. “This is what the Predacons want. For us to become some mindless beast that they can control.”
“What difference does it make?” Snarl asked. “Everyone else thinks we’re mindless beasts. Doesn’t matter if they’re ‘Bots or ‘Cons.”
“No! Dinobots are more than that!”
“Yes,” said the specter of Volcanicus. “You can become more than just mindless beasts. You can become a god.”
Grimlock shook his head. “Give me a break. You can’t be dumb enough to believe this scrap.”
At this, expressions of doubt began to fall onto the faces of Swoop and the others. Meanwhile, a scowl began to appear on the face of Volcanicus.
“You would turn down a chance for glory?”
“Dinobots have plenty of chances for glory,” Grimlock retorted. “Can’t enjoy that glory when you’re part of a combiner.”
Snarl stirred at this, seeming to break out of whatever trance Volcanicus had placed him under. After a moment of thought, he walked over to stand beside Grimlock and Slag.
Volcanicus scowled in annoyance. “Even if you find that glory, will you find a place to stand among the rest of the Autobots?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Grimlock replied. “Dinobots are Dinobots. We stand together, with or without anyone else.”
Sludge was the next to join the group. Growling, Volcanicus grabbed Swoop by the helm and hoisted him up, unsheathing a sword and holding it to his neck.
“Do you? Will you stand for each other, even if one of you is beaten and destitute? After all, there is no room for the weak among winners.”
“Dinobots aren’t weak,” Grimlock declared. “Even beaten, we always get back up… and we never turn our back on our own.”
Spreading his wings, Swoop managed to break free from Volcanicus’s grip and flew over to join his fellow Dinobots. Once united, all five transformed into their beast modes before turning to face Volcanicus.
The once and former Beast King sneered at them. “You are fools to pass up on the opportunity I have presented you. You clearly have the unity needed to combine… yet you do not.”
“Dinobots don’t need to combine,” Grimlock said. “Dinobots strong as is. We Dinobots… KING!”
As one, the five Dinobots opened their mouths and unleashed a conjoined stream of fire that quickly consumed Volcanicus in flames. Around them, the appearance of the military brig faded away, bringing them back to…
The Tripredacus Council’s chambers. The entire room had become engulfed in flames, and both Predaking and Tripredacus were on their knees, aghast at what had just transpired.
“Impossible,” Predaking murmured. “How could they have resisted…?”
Slag transformed to his robot mode and pounded his fist into his open palm. “Should’ve known better than to mess with Dinobots. Never ends well for ‘Cons when you do.”
“No matter,” Tripredacus said, rising back up. “If you refuse to fulfill your destiny, then you shall perish!”
Before either Predacon combiner could make a move, the entire room began to shake violently, causing everyone—including the two combiners—to fall to their knees.
“What… what is happening?” Predaking rumbled.
“The island….” Tripredacus shook his head in disbelief. “The island is rising up. We can feel it….”
At that moment, a column of fire erupted from the pit that the Dinobots had initially been knocked into, catching both combiners off guard. At once, Predaking separated into his five components, with Razorclaw staring in awe at the column of fire.
“What is this sorcery?” the Predacon leader exclaimed. “Just what exactly is this fortress you have discovered?!”
Eventually, the fire dissipated… and in its place hovered the winged form of a bestial mech, clad in white and purple armor plating. While Grimlock did not instantly recognize the strange newcomer, the five Predacons and Tripredacus appeared to, as they reacted to his appearance with complete and utter shock.
“T-Tigerhawk…?” murmured Tripredacus. “But… you’re supposed to be dead!”
“Not according to the will of the Vok,” responded the beast warrior, his voice booming and echoing throughout the room. “And it is by their will… that you shall perish.”
His hands began to crackle with energy, and Grimlock’s optics went wide behind his visor. “RUN!” he roared, pushing the other Dinobots in the direction of the council’s chambers, where a small gold and black Predacon femme happened to be standing.
Tigerhawk raised his arms and unleashed twin beams of energy, hitting the ceiling and causing it to collapse in onto the room’s occupants…
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