Transformers Regenerated: Beyond Imagination V, Chapter Two

TWO: THE DEAD COME HOME

 T minus 90 minutes

Ironfist opened his eyes. That was his first sign that something was wrong.

The last thing he remembered was blackness. Before that, the monstrous machine known as Ragnarok had torn through him and his fellow Wreckers; Rotorstorm had his head blown off, Guzzle had been torn in two, the others… he couldn’t remember what state the others had been. 

But he did remember the bullet in his head—the one that had entered his cranial unit in that incident on Kimia years ago—inching closer and closer to his brain module. After that, nothing. All of his systems shut off and he was gone. Or at least, he was supposed to be gone.

And yet, here he was, still among the functioning. At least, he was pretty sure this wasn’t the Afterspark or some nonsense like that. From the looks of it, he was in some sort of standard medical bay, with an Autobot insignia adorning the wall across from him. He slowly rotated his head on the berth he was laying on and saw that he was not alone in the room; sitting up on the medical slab next to his was a red and gray bot whom he recognized as Windcharger. There were others in the medical bay, some still in stasis lock, with each one being checked on by a medical officer. 

One of the medics noticed Ironfist and Windcharger and walked over to them. Ironfist did not immediately recognize the medic but they had a red and white color scheme as was typical of those with his function.

“Ah. I see that you’re awake. I’ll notify Prime and let him know. Right now, you two should stay put so to better preserve your energon levels, as they are still a bit low and—”

“What the frag is going on?” Windcharger cut the medic off. “I thought I was dead! That… that… that thing crushed my head!”

“Your brain module was crushed yes, but your spark was recovered. It was kept in safe storage until your body could be properly repaired. You would have been reactivated sooner but we’ve, ah, been preoccupied with other things.”

“What about me?” Ironfist sat up and pointed to his head. “The bullet that’s been lodged in my head… it made its way to my brain module, didn’t it?”

The medic turned to him. “It did, but your systems were still operational enough that we were able to save you. You’ve been kept in stasis lock for the past two years until we could safely remove the bullet threatening your brain module. As you can see, the operation was a success.”

Ironfist put a hand to where the bullet hole would have been only to feel nothing but smooth armor plating. It was as if the incident had never happened to begin with; he didn’t even feel any sort of pain in his cranial unit…

“So, I take it we aren’t the only ones then, right?” Windcharger asked. “Anyone else being given the miracle treatment?”

“Oh, yes, plenty. It’s all part of Rodimus Prime’s new Golden Age initiative—”

“I’m sorry,” Ironfist interjected. “Did you just say ‘Rodimus Prime’?”

The medic smiled awkwardly. “Ah, yes, that’s right. It’s been two years since you….” He cleared his vocal processor. “I’ll have Ratchet send for someone to fill you in on what you missed.”

With that, the medic hastily departed from the medbay, leaving Ironfist and Windcharger alone to mull over their new lease on life. Ironfist took another moment to look around the medbay; he could swear that one of the bots laying nearby was Rotorstorm, judging by their blue and magenta color scheme, but they were too far away for him to be sure.

Raising a hand to his head, Ironfist shuttered his optics as he accessed his internal memory systems. To his mild surprise, he was still able to access the data logs he had written for his Wreckers Declassified series, some of them dating back centuries. He found it to be somewhat of a miracle that the data had survived the surgery.

With nothing else to do while they waited for the medic to return, Ironfist decided that he might as well kill the time by submitting another entry for his readers, if only to let them in on the big news.

That Fisitron was back.

*  *  *

T minus 1 hour

Autobot City: Earth

“This is a problem.”

“Why?” Kup grunted, gnawing on his cy-gar as he watched Rodimus Prime pace back and forth in his office. “Because someone else broke the news before you and stole your glory?”

“No!” Rodimus stopped in his tracks, bringing a hand to his helmet crest. “That’s obviously not… I don’t care about stuff like that, Kup. I’m just worried about the rumors that will start to spread because of this.”

“What? Rumors like the dead walkin’ among us? We already had this whole song and dance last cycle, lad, when Impactor and the Jumpstarters and the rest came back. People won’t be as surprised this time, now that there’s a precedence.”

“Right, except that had an explanation people could buy,” Rodimus said. “Shockwave was doing some crazy experiments behind our backs, and that’s why bots are back from the dead.”

“Uh-huh.” Kup raised an optic ridge. “And this is different because…?”

Rodimus sighed. “Because it isn’t Shockwave that’s behind it this time. It’s me.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Of course not.” Rodimus turned to face the viewport in his office, which gave him a view of the green landscape that surrounded Autobot City. “I mean, they would know regardless once I had given my official announcement. I just… I wasn’t expecting people to find out so soon.”

“Lots of people followed Wreckers: Declassified. Hell, even Ratchet does.”

“Right, and he already knows about… this. But there are others who, once this gets to them… well, the whole world is going to know.”

Kup removed his cy-gar from his mouth and flaked off some residue. “You’re talking about Swerve.”

“Yes, Kup. I’m talking about Swerve.”

*  *  *

T minus 55 minutes

“Isn’t this amazing?!”

Skids stared blankly at Swerve, having barely processed what the red and white Autobot had just said to him within the span of ten seconds. “Uh… can you run it by me again? Maybe slower this time? I heard something about an iron fist.”

“It’s Ironfist! You know, Fisitron?” Swerve raised his hands over his head, nearly knocking over the oil can he had been cleaning out off the counter. “He’s back from the dead! Hell, I bet he wasn’t even dead to begin with! I always knew he would pull through; it only took two years. But it’s not just him, either. Windcharger is back, too!”

Skids blinked. “Windcharger? I remember him. He was in my class at the academy. I had heard he had been killed by that… Megatron-Optimus fusion. Which I guess was actually Scourge, technically?”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, because he’s back! At least, that’s what Ironfist’s latest entry says.”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t hacked or anything like that?”

“Are you kidding? I was stationed at Kimia with him. I remember him having Brainstorm set up all sorts of firewalls to make sure no one got access to his databanks. Trust me, his processor is more secure than Teletraan One.” Swerve then paused, glancing around the room. Skids wasn’t sure why he was doing that, since they were the only ones in the bar. Swerve then leaned over the counter, fighting with his life to keep a massive grin from spreading across his face.

“You know what this also means, yeah?”

Skids again give him a blank stare. “You’re just gonna have to tell me, man, because I’m no good at picking up on your flavor of subtext.”

“It means that there’s a chance to bring Tailgate back.”

Skids leaned back at those words, as the weight of them hit him. He recalled that, about a year ago, at the end of the Crusadercons’ quest, both Tailgate and Cyclonus had been lured into the trap that had been Mederi—which was the “Cyberutopia” they had spent their quest searching for—and killed by the station’s euthanasia program. He hadn’t seen their deaths for himself, having been split off in a different group, but he remembered Swerve telling him about their deaths, and how it had impacted him after Mederi’s promise of an Afterspark had worn off on all of them.

He also understood why Swerve missed Tailgate so badly; it wasn’t just because they were friends, but because ever since the quest had ended, Swerve had been nostalgic for those days. Being stuck in one place, whether it be Earth or Cybertron, had taken a toll on the minibot’s demeanor, and the fact that the old Crusadercon crew (or at least its surviving members) had all been split up between different teams and missions certainly didn’t help. 

To have Tailgate back in any way, shape, or form… it would go a long way to help Swerve return to those good old times. A time that was, relatively speaking, much more simpler compared to now.

Not wanting to dampen his friend’s spirits, Skids chose his next few words carefully. “I think we should wait until we learn more about how Ironfist and Windcharger came back before getting our hopes up. I mean, Ironfist and Windcharger’s bodies were at least recoverable, and I take it their sparks were able to be saved.”

“We brought Tailgate’s body back with us,” Swerve pointed out.

“Yes, but his spark was taken away. As was Cyclonus’, in case you forgot about him.” Skids raised his hands to stop Swerve from interjecting. “Look, buddy, I want to be hopeful like you. But I’ve been burned way too many times over the course of my life to get too optimistic about things. I’m sure Rodimus is aware about all of this and will say something when the time is right.”

Swerve frowned. “You miss them, too, don’t you?”

“What? Of course I do. We hung out with Tailgate all the time, and even Cyclonus wasn’t that bad once you got to—”

“I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about the good old days. The quest days. Do you miss them?”

Skids went quiet as he considered the question. He thought back to all the memories he had of those days; of all the happiness, the heartache, and everything in between. He thought of the people they had met and those they had lost.

And he quickly realized that he very much did miss the good old days.

It was the first time in his life that he had some form of direction. A direction that did not require him to be a secret agent that was cut off from the rest of the world. A direction where he could let loose and just be himself… and be accepted for it.

Ever since the quest had ended, he had found himself losing that direction… and now wasn’t quite sure whether or not he still had any.

Skids exhaled slowly as he lowered his head. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, I do miss them.”

Swerve reached over and tapped him on the arm. “Hey,” he said, his old smile returning to his face. “This is our chance to bring those days back. You’re right, I’m sure Rodimus will say something about it. And if he doesn’t, then you bet your actuator I’m gonna bring it up to him.”

Skids raised his head back up and smirked. “Knowing you? I have no doubt you will, old buddy.”

*  *  *

T minus 15 minutes

“Hey, can you change the channel? I think that speech is about to start.”

The barkeep looked up from the glass he was cleaning out to give his patron an odd look. “Speech? What speech?”

“Y’know, the giant robot’s speech.” The man in the plaid shirt waved his hand aimlessly in the air. “I just wanna see it. Not everyday you see a giant robot on television and it not be a human-killing machine.”

The barkeep huffed as he picked up a remote control and started flipping through channels, taking the screen off the basketball game it had been playing. “I dunno, man, I don’t trust those things. You mean to tell me these giant machines have been living among us for, what, three years? And only now does the government come out and officially announce some sort of alliance? Something’s fishy, man, I tell ya.”

“Yeah, yeah. I think they’re showing it on LCTV.”

The barkeep landed on the channel in question. Appearing on the television screen now was a massive robot in red and orange armor plating, a flame decal displayed prominently on its chest. It stood at a podium, speaking to a crowd of mostly other machines as well as a few humans, most of them representatives from the newly formed Earth Defense Command. Because the camera had been adjusted to fit as much of the robot as possible, most of the people were so small one could barely even make them out. But no one was watching the broadcast for them.

The man in the plaid shirt whistled. “Talk about timing. Looks like it just started.”

A caption at the bottom of the screen identified the red robot as Rodimus Prime, leader of Cybertron. Expressing a smile that seemed almost human in nature, Rodimus Prime began to speak. “As I’m sure you’re all aware by now, some familiar faces have begun to pop up. Faces that many of us thought to be gone forever. Ironfist, the Autobot engineer whom some of you know better as the author Fisitron, has awakened from his two-year coma to publish the latest entry in his Wreckers: Declassified series.”

The plaid-wearing patron scratched his beard. “These guys do writing of their own?”

The barkeep simply shrugged.

“Everything he wrote in that entry is true,” Rodimus Prime went on. “The dead have come home. Bots like Windcharger here have been restored after being brutally killed by Guiltaur last stellar cycle. Others such as Ironfist’s fellow Wrecker Rotorstorm are still in the recovery process of having their life restored. This, my friends, is only the beginning.”

The barkeep grunted to himself. “So these guys can just bring themselves back from the dead like that, eh? Must be nice. Maybe they could’ve saved my uncle last month.”

Rodimus Prime gestured to a smaller orange robot standing beside his podium. It had round optical sensors that almost looked like spectacles on its face. “With the help of my good friend Rung here, as well as the legendary Vector Sigma itself, we have been able to produce new sparks that will not only give life to new Cybertronians, but old ones as well.”

The crowd on-screen erupted in uproarious applause. In sharp contrast, the audience of two at the bar watched on in either bemused or disdainful silence.

“Today marks a new chapter in the history of Cybertron. A truly golden age that has only been dreamed of by Primes before me but has now been given fruition by our efforts. Join me as we step into an Age of Restoration!”

The crowd grew louder and louder, so loud it was peaking the on-site microphones. Just as the barkeep reached for the remote control again, the scene abruptly changed to a hazy black screen. Through the grainy static one could make out a humanoid figure, wearing some sort of skull-like mask. Within the eyeholes of the mask glowed red pinpricks of light.

“The hell?” the barkeep exclaimed. “What is this, some sort of Max Headroom type crap?”

The mysterious figure began to speak, but its words were difficult to make out due to the quality of the video. It was as if every other sentence was being garbled out by static.

“You are being deceived.”

“Is this part of the thing?” the barkeep asked his patron.

“No freaking clue. I don’t think it is…”

“The Autobots are wasting resources to prop up a flawed system. Both theirs and ours.”

“Y’know,” the patron said, “I have heard about people protesting this speech. Some anti-robot activists out there. Might have something to do with that.”

“Hmph. Makes sense.”

“The only answer is chaos. Become that which is inevitable.”

“Yeah,” the barkeep said. “You’re probably right. This sounds like something a kid would write.”

“We are mayhem. And so are you.”

Just as abruptly as it had begun, the interruption ended and returned to the broadcast. The speech was no longer on screen and was instead playing the tail-end of a political ad. A dark haired woman in a navy blue suit crossed her arms over the words “Guiglione for Mayor.”

“—Megan Guiglione, and I approve this message,” the woman was saying seconds before the barkeep hit the remote and changed the channel back to the basketball game. 

“Well, looks like you missed it. If you ask me, I still think these machines are trouble. Especially if they can just bring themselves back like that.”

The patron sighed. “Yeah. You might be on to something there. I just thought it would be cool to see a giant robot on TV like that….”

As the man returned to his drink, he failed to pay any mind to the young woman sitting further down the bar who had been watching the broadcast much more intently than either of them. When the barkeep came down to her side of the bar, she wordlessly put down the money she owed for her tab.

The barkeep eyed the money as he took it before affixing the woman with a skeptical look. “You’re sure you’re twenty-one? That wasn’t a fake ID you gave me, was it? ‘Cos if you ask me—”

“I didn’t,” the woman said before getting down from her stool and striding out of the bar.

*  *  *

T minus 5 minutes

“Okay… are we back on?”

“Uh, I think so,” said Blaster, rubbing his helm as he double-checked the monitors. “The networks have already cut to commercial, so that’ll give us some time to recuperate.”

Rodimus Prime took in some air to cool off his heating internal systems. “Right,” he exhaled. “In the meantime, can someone look into what the frag just happened?”

“Has something like this ever happened before?” asked Marissa Faireborn, head of E.D.C., as she stood among the few other human spectators.

“Hacked broadcasts?” Blaster replied. “All the time during the war. Since then, I don’t think the ‘Cons have really bothered with such tactics… assuming this isn’t the Decepticons.”

Rodimus frowned. “They did say something about mayhem though. Wasn’t that the name of…?”

Before he could finish his thought, Red Alert approached him along with a detail of armed Autotroopers. The white and red security director who looking around frantically, regarding everything and everyone as if they were a potential threat.

“Got here as fast as we could, Prime. Everything all right here?”

“I believe so, Red. Probably just some scare tactics. Still, I would start putting things on lockdown just in case. At the very least, get those human protesters outside to somewhere safe.”

Red Alert nodded. “Will do.” He turned to the Autotroopers behind him. “Start escorting people to safety. Stay close to the Prime in case anyone tries to pull something funny.”

One of the Autotroopers stepped forward, walking towards Rodimus.

“I’m sorry,” the white-plated Autobot said.

Rodimus frowned at the trooper. “Pardon?”

The Autotrooper dropped his gun and lowered the windscreen on his chest. A red light began to blink.

Red Alert’s optics went wide. “BOMB! EVERYONE OUT!”

Thinking quickly, Rodimus threw himself around the Autotrooper, covering the soldier with his larger body.

The bomb went off and the last thing Rodimus remembered was being surrounded by flames.

Death's Head: The World in Question - Entry 6

ENTRY 6: PARADOXES

  Hnn. This is off the record, yes? You folks will be getting my running monologue now as well as what I recall from the following conversations as I try to piece all of this together.

After I turned in my little homework, Mr. Paradox called me in to his office. Here at the TVA (or at least this particular iteration of it, more on that some other time), Paradox is in charge of tracking disturbances across timelines and universes, dispatching people like me to investigate and address them. Now, I understand that you guys on Earth-1218 had some sort of big blockbuster film released two years ago that depicted Paradox as a, well, not a heroic chap, yes? That’s not this Paradox. I don’t think so, anyway. That one and that particular version of the TVA is in its own corner. It’s canon corner, if you will, yes? This one is different. A bit more… fanatical, if you catch my drift, yes?

Anyways, lately Paradox has become rather, ah, invested with studying realities that center around the Transformers. Maybe it has to do with the events in Earth-9814. Couldn’t tell you. When I came into his office, he seemed rather eager to tell me all about what he had learned. Suppose no one else would listen, no?

He skipped all of the pleasantries and formalities, which I was perfectly fine with, and got straight to the point. “How much do you know about the history of your home reality?” he asked me. “About Earth-9284?”

I told him everything I knew was in those datalogs I just submitted to him. He seemed to have expected that answer as he gave a rather knowing smile.

“I thought as much. The history of that reality has certainly ebbed and flowed over the years, even after we cordoned off the events following the Heroes Reborn crisis in order to make room for elements from Earth-982 as part of our merging process. With the state things are in now after we’ve merged the divergent branches together to create a more streamlined universe, we have run into some… unforeseen complications.”

I asked him to elaborate and reminded him I didn’t much care for “vague-speak.” Thankfully, he obliged.

“One of the branches that we’re still having trouble with was created by the arrival of an interloper from Earth-9884. While seemingly Cybertronian in appearance, he is in fact a resident of Gobotron, the counterpart to Cybertron in that reality. Goes by the name of Bug Bite.”

My audio receptors perked up at that name. I recognized it as the guy who first hired me for the Expanse job. I thought about saying as much to Paradox but thought it best to let him continue, yes?

“Apparently, he and his fellow GoBots had left their home reality to fix a cataclysm that had threatened their world. Bug Bite was under the belief that the Megatron of Earth-9284 was somehow responsible and set about to kill him. His arrival in your home reality at the Battle of Klo created a divergent branch which we had tentatively called Earth-6277. Because some of the divergences were too drastic to reconcile, we had allowed it to remain in a pocket universe within Earth-9284… at least until it was destroyed by an incursion from Earth-4248.”

That number also rang a bell and this time I spoke up about it. Again, Paradox gave me that smug little smirk of his.

“We have since determined the Earth-4248 you were familiar with to be a separate reality altogether, one that is more of a mirror to Earth-9814 to Earth-9284.” (I will forgive you if you are being driven insane by all these numbers, all these 9s, 4s, and 8s. Drove me up the wall as well, yes?) “The one you’re thinking of has since been relabeled as Earth-4108.”

Figures. I kindly asked him to hurry along to the point, yes?

“The point,” Paradox said, “is that these temporal incursions and anomalies caused by both our efforts as well as factors outside of control are creating reverberations that are beginning to reach Earth-9814. In other words, history is about to repeat itself, even if might take on a different form. We have already seen such reverberations from Earth-19505, a reality which appears to be a heavy inspiration for 9814, no doubt caused by that reality’s Shockwave and his machinations.”

I thought back to what Paradox had told me just now, remembering Bug Bite and my encounters with Expanse and his ilk. I then looked at Paradox. “You believe this Earth-4108 might be on an incursion path with Earth-9814, yes?”

Paradox smiled, a bit too cheerful about a threat to a reality’s existence, yes? “Precisely. Even as we speak, certain events are unfolding that mirror those that led up to the incursion between Earths-6277 and 4248.”

“And you want me to stop it, yes?”

“No.” Paradox leaned back in his seat. “I want you to make sure it happens.”

I stared at him. He had to be joking, no?

“Believe me, I was actually about to have you do just that. But a recent missive from He Who Remains has directed us to ensure that this incursion unfold as it may. He believes it may be the only way to determine Earth-9814’s future, given that it has already had its fair share of time incidents as you well know.”

I knew he was alluding to that whole deal with that Sari lass and the Warren. Also, I believe the Shockwave of that reality is also a nuisance when it comes to time travel, yes?

I asked him what I was supposed to do then, to which Paradox said, “We will call you in should anyone from either of these two realities attempt to prevent what is to come. In the meantime, there is one matter we would like you to address.”

“And that would be…?”

“Another native of Earth-9814, a Decepticon named Spacewarp, has been transported to a divergent branch of Earth-1138, a reality which is… particularly interesting but does not need Cybertronian involvement. There also appears to be another Cybertronian from Earth-9814 whom was sent there by Shockwave’s Sigma Project. Both need to be either brought back home or eliminated. Whichever is easiest for you.”

Well, I know which one I prefer, but Paradox’s tone made it sound like the former was preferable to the latter. Figures, yes?

Anyway. That’s where we’re at now, yes? Will return to you with another report after I’ve addressed this situation.

Death's Head: The World In Question - Entry 5

ENTRY FIVE: THEN AND NOW

 Datalog 516-87-1965

Right. This is where things get complicated. As if things weren’t already, yes?

Thanks to the access TVA’s given me to you folks on Earth-1218 (still not quite sure why I’m supposed to be dictating this to you but whatever), I have an idea as to which of my, ah, endeavors have been exposed to you. Problem is, we’re getting into a spot where I can’t accurately pinpoint WHEN some of these exploits happened.

Okay, let’s start with this one. This one I can place before my encounters with the Transformers. It was back in Earth-616 but in the time after my encounters with the Fantastic Four and She-Hulk would have taken place. Confusing, yes? Even moreso that I apparently didn’t recognize it when I returned there.

I had a different face back then. Not quite as handsome, yes? Also wasn’t calling myself a peacekeeping agent yet; rather a personnel recovery specialist. I was hired by the rulers of Tinas VI to recover an artifact that had been stolen by a thief called Lothi. Would’ve killed him but I managed to make a deal with S.W.O.R.D., led by the thief’s half-sister. Old habits never die, eh? Before we parted ways after my adventures with them, one of them—a furry blue fellow—suggested the “peacekeeping agent” idea to me. What can I say? If it fits, it fits, yes?

After that I had some encounters with Iron Man—the original, not the edgy 2020 guy. Then I fought my future self—ol’ Mark II—in an event called the Revolutionary War. Got shrunk down from 30 feet to human scale. Guess I must’ve been enlarged back to 30 feet some time later. Haven’t gotten there yet, yes?

Had some encounter with the Young Avengers… couldn’t tell you when that was. Also a stint with the Imperial Guardians. Same deal there, yes? Hell, you might not have the full story at the time of this recording.

Hnn. At this point, there’s not much point in going any further. A lot of it has yet to be documented anyway. I’ll just skip to the more relevant stuff, yes?

Eventually, I got my original body back. To be honest with you, I’m still fuzzy on the details, but I have a hunch that the TVA might’ve been involved because not long after that, they approached me with another offer. I immediately declined them, but they told me that they had undergone a… restructuring. A reboot, if you will, yes? Had different people working there, even if they all had the same names. The contract they offered me was admittedly better than the previous one, so I accepted.

At first, it was business as usual. They sent me around the multiverse to investigate disturbances. One trip brought me to Earth-19505 where I ran into some familiar faces, including another Rodimus and an Autobot called Impactor whose arm I tore off in a scuffle. Reason for traveling there was due to multiple shenanigans caused by a certain Shockwave, which brought in blokes from Earth-7506 and gave them new identities. A Bumblebee from that reality was now called Centurion, for example. Apparently I was popular enough in this reality that Rodimus asked that someone hire me to take out someone called Getaway for him. Hnn. Wish I could’ve taken him up on that offer. For old time’s sake, yes?

Another one was… well, it was originally labeled Earth-21915 but I’ve heard talks of it being relabeled Earth-2384 for the year it’s centered around. Would make it easier to remember, yes? Anyway, that one started out as a branch of Earth-9196 but spiraled off into its own thing. During my investigation there, I ended up getting stuck with that reality’s version of Spratt. Typical, eh? At least he gave me a power boost as a Headmaster partner. Teamed up with some Autobot bounty hunter to deal with some space pirates. Quite the adventure, yes? After it was decided to leave the universe alone rather than purge it or merge it back with the one it branched off from, the TVA recalled me.

Sidenote, I did see in one reality—not one I visited but one I got a glimpse of—someone paid homage to me by naming his ship after me. Coincidence? Most likely. But I can’t help but feel a kindred spirit with the bot who owns it….

Anyway, my fun came to an end after an incident in Earth… well, I’m not sure I’m allowed to say which one it was. But, ah, my actions there might’ve been the cause of an incursion that erased it from existence. Needless to say, my handler Paradox wasn’t happy with that and stripped me of my dimension-hopping privileges. Got restricted to cleaning up messes in the timeline of my home reality. Eventually convinced them to give me another shot and was given a device that let me travel between two—and only two—realities. My home one, and one they called Earth-9814.

Earth-9814 was apparently important to them, yes? They had noticed some strange blips and needed someone to check it out. Was given strict orders to not do anything too rash. A bit like asking a bull not to demolish a china shop, yes? (See, I can pick up on Terran phrases. Damn you, Spratt.)

Of course, just my luck, soon as I get there, I found myself arrested for violating some intergalactic law or something. Got thrown into prison, yes? Was luckily able to get out with the help of two local Cybertronians. Continued my work while setting up shop on Elpasos; the most familiar location I could find, yes?

Things were mostly quiet for a time until a human by the name of Sari Sumdac took a trip through an anomaly in this universe called the Warren. Used it to alter the course of history, yes? Prevent her planet’s destruction. TVA took a blind eye to this because, well, they didn’t want any Earth being destroyed. Figures, eh? That was when a Cybertronian called Bug Bite came to me with a job: ten million credits for capturing a ‘bot with a quantum device called Expanse. Good money, yes? It worked out that this Expanse was in my home reality, hanging with the X-Men.

Now, this is where things get dicey. See, by this point my home reality had started to look different, though I hadn’t caught on yet due to my, ah, complicated history. There was no more Earth-616, or Earth-120185, or even an Earth-8410 (I don’t think anyway). Everything had been merged together by the TVA into a singular reality: Earth-9284. They had also brought in stuff from Earth-982, which overwrote any events from Earth-616 after a certain point… which happens to include some of my earlier adventures that I brought up earlier in this entry. Hnn. Might need to talk to Paradox about that, yes?

Because of this, there was no more sliding timescale. Except there sorta was, as stuff from the 1980s had been shifted to the 1990s, but after these events they were shifted back to the 1980s. Very confounding, isn’t it? Anyway, I located Expanse only for some Cybertronian knobber from Earth-4248 to steal my prize. I managed to track them both down, and also encountered that Sari lass I mentioned earlier. Expanse then activated his quantum drive thing to bring us all to Mojoworld, where that slobbering oaf Mojo (obvious name, yes?) pitted us all in an arena. After his show got shut down, I was able to get compensation for my efforts from the Autobots and I let them have Expanse. At the time, I didn’t think he was important, yes?

Well, Paradox proved me wrong when I got back to the TVA. After he explained the whole “merging universes” thing to me (not that I fully understood it all; still don’t), he sent me to go get Expanse again so the top brass at the TVA could study him. Managed to track him down as well as some other ‘bots that had been displaced across the multiverse, including in Earth-9284. That Sari girl was also there, for whatever reason. I dealt with the interlopers, sending them to Axiom Nexus in Earth-3138, only to then lose sight of Expanse. That was when Paradox recalled me, telling me that the situation had spiraled a bit out of control.

And, ah, that’s where I’m at now. Got paid for the job and then asked to record these datalogs while I continue my work for them. Not sure what’s gonna happen next. Might be worrying too much, yes?

Hnn. Really hope I’m not out of a job. Multiverse work pays well, yes?

Death's Head: The World in Question - Entry 4

ENTRY FOUR: WE CAN BE HEROES (JUST FOR ONE DAY)

 Datalog 516-87-1964

Ahh, Earth-616. Despite being a fair way down the list of realities, everything seems to revolve around you in some way or form. Or at least it used. Or it will.

Hnn. Time travel. Pain in the ol’ noggin, yes?

Anyway, my time there was relatively short, all things considered. I had ended up on the Four Freedoms Plaza which was where the Fantastic Four, a superhero team, operated. They’ve got pretty advanced tech for their time period at their building, and, well, to say the sensors didn’t take kindly to my presence would’ve been an understatement, yes?

I eventually made my way inside and the Fantastic Four gave me the type of greeting I suppose they reserve for folks like Doctor Doom, eh? We had quite the scuffle until Mister Fantastic’s home defense systems started acting crosswired and began targeting anyone with superhuman capabilities… which included them, yes?

Naturally, I saw the opportunity to make a deal with them. In exchange for helping them sort things out and protect their son from their haywire inventions, I wanted access to a time machine which I figured they would have. After taking out the haywire robot and saving their son before it exploded (call me a softie, yes? Except you shouldn’t. Ever.), the Four let me use their home time machine (wish I could have one for myself, eh?).

However, when I let slip what I did for a living, they didn’t take too kindly to that little revelation and aborted the time-jump as I was halfway through. Rather than end up home in 8162, I ended up in the year 2020 (formerly labeled as Earth-8410). Can’t really complain too much; at least I wouldn’t have to put up with Spratt, yes?

Now, I’m sure you humans reading this at this point in time know that the year 2020 is… well, it’s not a great year, yes? It’s true for your reality, and I’d say doubly so for this one. The all-star hero of this reality is Iron Man, but not the one you’re familiar with. No, Arno Stark is pretty much all of his distant relative’s negative traits exemplified to the highest degree. He revels in being rich and only wants to get richer. I find that relatable, yes?

Anyway, I didn’t waste any time in finding work and started going after a gang that called themselves the Warlords. My newfound fame eventually came around to bite me and I found myself in a scuffle with 2020’s local Iron Man. Credit where it’s due, he fights good for a human, yes?

Eventually, we realized we had been set up by my employers to fight each other. After we put out differences aside, we, ah, took care of our doublecrossers before going our separate ways. Shortly after that, I spotted my old spacecraft and, curse my luck, it was carrying Spratt. Just when I was starting to enjoy life, yes? And to make matters worse, he was being chase by a nasty bloke calling himself Big Shot.

I still blame this all on the Doctor, between you and me, yes?

Things pretty much went back to normal for me at this point, at least for a time. I had Spratt back on my side (regrettably) and I was back to taking on odd jobs; only difference now was the time period, yes?

After I took out a murderer named Rogan (and got an unwanted crisis of conscience from a woman I had killed him in front of), I found Spratt being harassed by Big Shot again (or maybe… maybe I was simply misremembering the initial encounter. Gah, that’s what I get for relying on some of your guys’ records to help jog my memory, eh?). He was going on and on about revenge and he put up a hell of a fight, yes? Just my luck that I started to get flashbacks from my origin story. Rather inconvenient, no? 

Just as Big Shot was about to finish me off, he was blasted aside by a woman who turned out to be Pyra—hope you remember her from my first entry, yes? Poor woman thought I was still her husband Lupex—who, as luck would have it, transported me back to Styrakos. My old man explained my origin to me and said that Pyra was under the belief that he had already transfered his spirit into me, when he had never gotten around to ever doing that. He then tried to do just that and, well, I wasn’t having any of it, yes? After I took him out, Pyra arrived and revealed to me that she had always known that I wasn’t really Lupex. Was simply a ruse in order to set up this very showdown, yes?

Hnn. Organics and their mind games. Any wonder why I’m not fond of them?

Still, I couldn’t help but admire her cleverness. Mother always knows best, yes? I returned to 2020 and continued my work with Spratt—not like I had much of a choice, eh?

I suppose by this point, my escapades throughout time and space had gotten the attention of the Time Variance Authority. They hired me to help them address disturbances throughout the timeline and, well, I wasn’t going to turn down money like theirs, was I? A trip to Earth-8810 to investigate a time bubble led me to cross paths with the Fantastic Four again, as well as some of their other superhero friends. We managed to put our past grievances aside to deal with a version of Kang the Conqueror and oh, don’t get me started on that guy. He managed to get a hit on my vehicle and I ended up phasing out of reality. Not very fair, yes? The TVA managed to pull me out of that little inconvenience and sent me back to 2020. Decided to put my resignation in then and there.

Another job I took around this time was to procure a vase from the “present day” of Earth-616. This brought me into conflict with a superheroine named She-Hulk and the vase got broken in the process. Fortunately, the green lady let me take the disc that was contained within the vase and I was able to get my payment.

Needless to say, by this point I needed a break from the chaos that was my life. Decided to unwind at a party on Maruthea where I happened to see my old Doctor friend. At this point, I had decided to let bygones be bygones and simply raised my glass in acknowledgment. After getting into a fun little party fight, I made my way home and…

Hang on. I’m reading through the records you folks have on me and… I don’t remember this next bit.

Hob attacked me? I teamed up with my future self only to then try and kill him? The friggin’ DOCTOR erased my memory? And what is this about him being responsible for ending up in Earth-120185? Is there a page missing here or something?

Okay, I remember being killed by Minion—he’s some robot made by A.I.M., yes? He assimilated me and, thanks to Mister Fantastic of all people, I was able to assert a little bit of control, leading to him becoming Death’s Head Mark II. Lots I could detail here but it would get way too complicated and, well, it wasn’t really me who lived through that, yes? That would be my successor. He’s an all right bloke, I guess. But his story is his to tell, not mine.

As for how I got back to being, well, me… story for another time, yes? Besides, there are some records here that even I haven’t figured out the timeline of yet. A whole mess, eh?

Oh yeah and Spratt was killed. Figures.

Death's Head: The World In Question - Entry 3

ENTRY THREE: DOCTOR, DOCTOR

 Datalog 516-87-1963

Hnn. Been a while since I updated this, yes? Been busy as of late. Keep my mission logs separate from this one, yes?

Strap in, because this is where things get crazy. Well, crazier than usual, yes?

When I fell through the time vortex in what used to be Earth-120185 (I know, I know, I’ll address the numbers thing again eventually), I ended up crashing into a rather peculiar object. If you’re from Earth, you would probably recognize it as a police phone box, yes? Now, you might be asking yourself, “What’s a police phone box doing in a time vortex?” Well, because it’s not an ordinary police phone box; it’s something called a space-time vessel, yes? A TARDIS, if you will. Popular among a race called the Gallifreyans. Time Lords. Jeunes-Viellards. Whatever they’re called.

Anyway, the crash caused us to materialize on a barren planet and we were joined by something called a time warden. The occupant of the TARDIS unit was some human-looking creature with a funny-looking hat and a goofy little smile. Called himself the Doctor, yes? Hnn. Should’ve asked for his credentials.

Now, normally in incidents like this a time warden would’ve sorted out are little, ah, chronological dispute. But the time warden who joined us took one look at me and decided it wasn’t worth his effort, yes? Left it to the two of us to sort it out.

Credit where it’s due, the Doctor wasn’t much intimidated by me, even when I picked him up to emphasize my point. Wasn’t sure if he was too dumb to be scared or had already seen his fair share of scary things. In any case, he didn’t anything valuable to bargain with (other than something called “jelly babies”), so I decided to bargain with his life. I was much bigger than him and, well, it was no contest, eh?

But the Doctor had a trick up his sleeve. Literally. He pulled out something called a tissue compression device and used it on me. Hurt like hell, yes? And to make matters worse, it dealt a great reduction in size. Now I was about the same height as the funny-looking man rather than the 30-feet tall behemoth I had become accustomed to being. Quite the downgrade, yes?

I made it clear to him that I was not happy with this change in the status quo and chased him across the barren wasteland. Gave quite the chase, yes? Eventually, he gave himself up and offered to make a deal with me. Always open to a good bargain, so I took him up on the offer, yes? Now that I was to scale with him, he offered to give me his time machine in exchange for his life. I figured that was as good a deal as any, so I accepted.

Big mistake, yes?

Now, it is true what they say about TARDIS units: they are definitely bigger on the inside. After he showed me around, he tried to leave but I stopped him; I had a feeling he was trying to trick me—perhaps by rigging the TARDIS to explode or something—so had him come along on a test drive, yes? I let him pick the destination and he did… but instead of sending us and the TARDIS through time, it only sent ME! 

Never trust a friendly doctor, yes? Wish I could say this was the last time I’d see him, too…

He ended up sending me to the year 8612 on Earth (figures, eh?). The TVA used to call it Earth-5555; might’ve changed it by now, yes? Wasn’t really fun there; ran into a group that called themselves the Dragon’s Claws and they blew me to pieces. Wouldn’t’ve happened if the Doctor hadn’t shrunk me, yes? Was recovered by a fellow named Spratt who rebuilt me with technology native to this futuristic world. Got myself a new blue color scheme out of it, yes? Though I am still nostalgic for the ol’ green…

For reasons unknown even to me, Spratt and I stuck around, with me offering out my services to the people of this particular planet and time. He insisted we were partners, but I didn’t much like that idea, yes? Still, he was useful. Helped with the bookkeeping, yes?

It was during this time that I ended up crossing paths with the ol’ Doctor again. A small mechanoid named Hob came to me on behalf of someone from the Doctor’s time called Josiah Dogbolter. Hob was made of pretty valuable material, and essentially sold himself to me in exchange for me killing the Doctor. What can I say? I like to harbor a grudge, yes?

Dogbolter’s people gave me a time machine that fit on my back, and after quite the trip through time I managed to find him playing dress-up to entertain others. Waste of time, yes? Anyway, I confronted him in his TARDIS only for the alarm to go absolutely nuts. Turns out, the Dogbolter fellow had double-crossed me! The time machine was actually a time BOMB and had been primed to kill the both of us!

Didn’t have much of a choice, yes? The Doctor and I had to work together. We brought the TARDIS to Dogbolter’s place and I had the Doc try to blast the damn thing off my back. Clasps were pretty sturdy though, yes? Luckily, the Doc had another idea; he used a handy tool of his own to undo the clasps and I tossed the bomb onto Dogbolter’s roof. Wish I could say I stayed to watch the explosion, but we had to hightail it out of there, yes? We then parted ways, although not without the Doctor giving me some lip about change and all that. Hnn. Only really paid half attention to it, yes?

We ended up on Earth in I want to say 1989, but sliding timescales mean that doesn’t mean much, yes? See, he had left me in Earth-616, which is somewhat adjacent to Earth-120185 only the Transformers aren’t really anywhere to be found. After the TVA merged them recently however, that might’ve changed. Hn. Retcons, am I right?

And of all the rooftops to drop me off at, what better and more convenient than the Four Freedoms Plaza, yes? Home to the Fantastic Four. No, not the Baxter Building; not at this point in the continuity, anyway.

Hnn. Wish I could say more, but employers are calling me again. Back to work, yes? Just as well; this is where my “fun” with superheroes starts to take off…. 

Death's Head: The World In Question - Entry 2

ENTRY TWO: WANTED - DEAD OR ALIVE

 Datalog 516-87-1962

Right. Where was I?

Hnn. Suppose I could jump here. It’s how you fellas found out about me in the first place, if I understand correctly.

By this point, I was in the universe Earth-9284. Now, you guys may know it by some other numbers: 616, 91274, 120185… that last one I think might be more correct. But see, ever since management, ah, shifted here at the TVA, there’s been some… renumbering going around. Relabeling. Some merging of certain redundancies. A regeneration, if you will. So, for shorthand, I’ll just be using 9284 for the universe where my career really took off.

Anyway, the year was 2007. Just a year or so after that Unicron bloke got blown up in this reality. I was having some downtime on Elpasos when I heard about a bounty that had been placed on the head of Galvatron, leader of the Decepticons. 10,000 shanix, and it was coming from the wallet of Rodimus Prime himself, the new head honcho over on Cybertron. I’d be a fool to pass up that kind of opportunity, yes?

After the barkeep gave me the rundown on why Rodimus wanted Galvatron gone so bad, I, ah, settled my tab with him and went on my merry way. Since no one had seen Galvatron in a while, I decided to hunt down his two lieutenants, Cyclonus and Scourge, yes? Wasn’t hard to find them, but they, ah, didn’t take well to me asking about where their leader had gone to. We had a little spat, yes, and eventually Cyclonus broke and spilled the beans. Told me that Galvatron had fled about twenty years in the past of some planet called Earth, something the three of them had done before, right? I found the time-jump mechanism they had used and went off hunting.

Now, Earth… that’s a funny little planet, yes? Doesn’t look like much but you’ll be hearing me talk a lot about it. The TVA are especially interested in its history, and most of them are the same species as the planet’s main inhabitants. Humans, yes?

Anyway, I ended up in the year 1987 where I materialized in front of an Autobot. Bumblebee, no? He didn’t take too well to my appearance because, see, with time-jump mechanisms, it kind of works like a swap feature. If someone travels to a particular time, that means someone in that time needs to be pulled out and placed in limbo until that person leaves. In this case, my arrival meant one of his Autobot friends disappeared, and he wasn’t too happy about that. We had a little quick draw and, well, I was just a little bit quicker, yes? Blew him up real good.

Hnn. That reminds me; Paradox told me that this created a little incongruity. See, when Earth-9284 was separate realities, the one called 91274 had a, ah, different fate for Bumblebee than what I put him through. Something to do with some group called Cobra, yes? Or was it G.I. Joe? Doesn’t really matter, I suppose, since it was ultimately decided that those alternative events didn’t really take priority since no one involved really wanted to acknowledge them, yes? Maybe they exist in some pocket reality; the TVA likes to shunt some of those incongruent events into their own corner.

Hn. Sorry for the tangent there.

After that little standoff, I made my way to the Decepticons’ little island base, I had a scuffle with that bloke Soundwave until I got him to squeal. He pointed me in the direction of Mount Verona, where ol’ Galvatron was having it out with some Autobot called Ultra Magnus, yes? When I got there, I found out that Rodimus Prime had decided to make his own trip to 1987 and was going after Galvatron himself. A violation of contract, yes? Guess Prime was a bit too blinded of his hatred for Galvatron to fully comprehend that. He tried to cancel the contract but business just doesn’t work that way, no?

In all the confusion, Galvatron got the jump on me and took out my right arm’s motor connection. Had to call it quits. I let Rodimus have his fun with Galvatron but promised him that he would be next if he managed to take out Galvatron and refused payment. Hope he got the message, yes?

Once I had gotten myself fixed up, I returned to find Rodimus at Galvatron’s mercy. Couldn’t have that, yes? Still needed my payment. We had a decent fight, ‘til one of the Autobots activated a device that sent us all back to the future. Well, all except Galvatron. Figures, eh?

Wish I could say that was the end of my interactions with these Transformers but life is never that simple, eh? 

Back in 2007, I was hanging around on Scarvix when the Decepticons approached me with an offer of 10,000 shanix in exchange for Rodimus Prime’s head. I was still harboring a grudge for that last incident, so I took the job, yes?

Got the jump on him at the Autobots’ own base and quickly overpowered him. Would’ve finished the job if it hadn’t been for those same two Decepticons I went after before. Cyclonus and Scourge, yes? Were pretty jealous over me being given the job to take out Prime. To make a long story short, Rodimus turned the tables and gave me the 10,000 shanix in advance in exchange for going after those two. What can I say? I’m easy to please, yes?

Took until the start of the new year on Earth when I finally found them on the planet of Junk. One of the natives managed to talk me out of killing them by speaking my language: money. Wish I hadn’t fallen for it; maybe life would have been much simpler, yes?

Ah, I don’t have the time to go over everything that happened next. Memory’s kind of a blur, also. Time travel will do that to you, yes? Had a chat with Shockwave, who hadn’t compensated me for the Rodimus job. Went back to Junk, there was a whole hubbub around Unicron’s disembodied head, which I guess was still alive? Hnn, doesn’t matter. Whole thing with a mindlink between him and Rodimus or something.

As I was dealing with Cyclonus and Scourge to complete my latest contract, the Junkions blew up Unicron’s head and created a time portal. I pulled them in with me but we got separated in the vortex. Figures, eh?

Anyway, I think that’ll do it for this log. Will revisit later to catch you up on what happened next, yes?

Death's Head: The World In Question - Entry 1

ENTRY ONE: THE BODY IN QUESTION

Datalog 516-87-1961

Am I really doing this? Hn. Fine. Suppose so.

Right. Name’s Death’s Head. Heard of me, yes? Number one freelance peacekeeping agent in the galaxy. Universe. Multiverse. Whatever.

Currently working for the TVA - Time Variance Authority if you didn’t know. They’re the ones who want me to put together this record. Why? Beats me. Apparently it’s something they ask all of their agents to do, though I’ve never heard of anyone else having to put something like this together. Not that I ever talk to anyone here.

Where do you start with someone like me? Been everywhere in the galaxy at this time. Everywhen, too. Beauty of time travel, yes? 

Suppose I should start from the beginning. Or at least what I think is the beginning. Always a good place to start, yes? Middle is also good, since it gets quicker to the point, but in this case… yeah. The start is good.

So, there’s this place called Styrakos. Never heard of it? Probably wouldn’t. It’s not really a planet but another dimension. What separates a dimension from a universe? Don’t look at me, I’m not your teacher. Anyway, it’s a place where magic and technology coexist in a strange balance, going back and forth on which one gets to rule over the other. Kind of like that one planet. Prysmos, yes? The one with those knights and lords and visionaries and whatever. Hn. Wonder if there’s some copyright infringement to look into there?

Sorry, keep getting distracted. Waiting for a call from a client and I’m doing this while I wait. The light keeps blinking and I think it’s them but it’s… never mind. Forget it.

Right. Styrakos. Magic and technology, back and forth. Eventually, a magician by the name of Lupex comes along. Real powerful fella. Bit too powerful, yes? In order to survive, he has to transfer his spirit into a new body in order to keep trucking along. But he eventually realizes that he can’t do it for very long, so he creates what he hopes will be the perfect body. One that will last a while. Puts it aside until he’s ready to use it.

Around this time, he takes on an apprentice. Pyra, is her name. Beautiful lass and Lupex, well, he falls in love with her. She strings him along before rejecting him in favor of another bloke. Klu was his name, I believe. Lupex ain’t happy about this so he kills Klu and takes his body. Pyra isn’t much a fan of this, no? So she finds the body he had built and programs it with a unique, independent personality.

And that’s where yours truly comes in.

Now, what happened after that, your guess is as good as mind. Pyra’s plan of revenge never came to fruition as someone stole me and super-sized me somehow. Made me a massive fellow, yes? Before I knew it, I was calling myself Death’s Head and taking jobs as a freelance peacekeeping agent. No, I’m not a bounty hunter. Let’s make that one clear, yes?

And, see, this is where things get fuzzy. There are some adventures I had that you - the folks on Earth-1218, yes? - were exposed to after some others but might’ve taken place before those others. I think. Maybe. Been trying to sort that out with Mr. Paradox, my handler, but he’s been busy with other stuff I guess.

Hnn. Doesn’t matter, I suppose; my client is finally calling. I’ll pick this one up later then, yes?  

Star Wars Destinies Retold: This Evil Reborn, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

 The Ravager, Jakku system, 5 ABY

It had been too long since he had been home. 

Fleet Admiral Gallius Rax never once thought he would ever feel nostalgic for Jakku, considering how much he had hated the planet when he had been a child. But seeing it now through the viewport of the Ravager as the Super Star Destroyer entered the system, he could not help but feel a warm feeling in his heart.

Perhaps it was not just nostalgia he was feeling but anticipation for what was to come. The last three decades of his life had all been building up to this moment in his life, the grand culmination of the Emperor’s Contingency. It would be here that the fate of the galaxy would be decided, all hinging on every action he took. It would have been an overwhelming feeling, no matter what planet it took place at.

Still, he maintained his composure all the same. He had to, given the audience he now had in his presence.

“Pathetic.”

Rax stirred out of his thoughts and frowned deeply. He glanced at the man standing next to him, facing the viewport even though he could not see what it showed.

“This barren wasteland of a planet is where the fate of the Empire shall be decided?” Jerec asked, a sneer etched across his face.

Rax allowed himself to relax, a smirk twitching upon his lips. “I thought Miraluka such as yourself could not see.”

“I can see it through the Force,” Jerec snapped back, his brow creasing over the black band that covered his empty eye sockets. “This world is worthless; it offers no strategic value in its placement on the galactic map nor does it appear to offer any valuable resources. How is it that this place is where everything that shall be decided?”

“Because, High Inquisitor, the Emperor has prepared it as such.” Rax inclined his head, his dark eyes staring into where Jerec’s should have been. “Trust in the plan, my friend. Once we have all the pieces in places, you will see just what it is Jakku has to offer.”

Jerec scowled at him. “We shall see about that, Admiral. For now, I remain skeptical.”

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted their conversation and Rax turned his attention to an officer that had appeared behind them. The young man stood stiffly to attention and saluted before clasping his hands behind his back.

“Admiral, the delivery from Warlord Zsinj’s forces has arrived.”

Rax’s face brightened. “Ah, wonderful. I am glad that even a man such as himself can come through on his end of the deal. Please, bring them in.”

The officer nodded before stepping aside and motioning two stormtroopers forward, accompanied by another officer that had been sent from Zsinj’s forces. Between them, hooked onto their arms with her hands bound by stuncuffs, was a pale woman in ragged clothing with long strands of dark brown hair draping around her tattooed face. Her black eyes blazed with hatred as they fell upon Rax before being pushed down to her knees by the stormtroopers.

As Rax looked down upon the Nightsister, the officer from Zsinj’s forces approached him. “She was carrying this on her person,” he said as he then held up a small pyramidal object in the palm of his hand. Etched with ancient runes, it had a crimson glow to it that slowly pulsated, as if was bursting with energy.

Rax heard Jerec take in a breath even as his own eyes widened in surprise. “A Sith holocron,” the Miraluka Inquisitor breathed aloud. He took a step towards the Nightsister, his hands curling into fists. “Where did you find such an artifact?”

The Dathomiri woman lifted her head up at him and sneered. “I have nothing to say to you, Imperial scum.” She punctuated her statement with a projectile of saliva aimed straight at his chest.

Moving in a blur, Jerec unclipped his lightsaber and ignited its scarlet blade, which he held right at the Nightsister’s neck. “The only reason you are still alive is because your powers are required for our plans,” the Inquisitor snarled. “Although I am sure Warlord Zsinj still has plenty of your ilk to choose from should you prove to be uncooperative.”

“Zsinj can burn in hell for all I care, along with that blood-traitor that serves him now!”

Rax forced himself to tear his gaze away from the Sith holocron and looked back down at the Nightsister. “What is your name, witch?”

“Do not speak to me, you spawn of a—”

“If you give me your name, then I will release you from your restraints.” He cut off the protest that Jerec was about to utter with a wave of his hand. “And if you tell us where and how you acquired this holocron, then your life will be spared after your duty has been fulfilled.”

The Nightsister glowered at him. “You were not planning on keeping me around after you were done with me?”

“No,” Rax said truthfully. “I was not.”

The witch continued to glare at him before her expression softened ever so slightly, as if she was impressed by his honesty. Still with a venomous bite to her tone, she said, “My name is Silri. I stole the holocron from Tyber Zann.”

“The crime lord?” Jerec retracted the blade of his lightsaber but kept the hilt ready in his hand. “How does such a precious artifact end up in the hands of scum like him?”

Silri shrugged. “He stole it from Jabba the Hutt, from what he told me. Don’t ask me how the Hutt managed to get it. He freed me from an Imperial base on Dathomir in exchange for accessing and decoding the holocron. You Imps then stole it from us, Zann led us on a raid to take it back. While he pulled off his little stunt at Kuat, I used it as an opportunity to slip away with the holocron, following the map it gave me.”

“And where did it lead you?” Rax asked.

“A dead world in the Expansion Region. There was nothing there of note.” Silri paused for a moment before adding quietly, “Except for an ancient cache of Sith soldiers, all frozen in carbonite.”

“Impossible.” Jerec turned his head to Rax, an incredulous expression on his face. “Surely the Emperor would have known something such as this existed, regardless if he had the holocron or not.”

“Perhaps he did, perhaps he did not.” Rax found his gaze drifting back to the holocron, still in the officer’s hands. He then closed his eyes and forced himself to focus before turning back to Silri. “What happened next? I take it you did not awaken this… hidden army?”

Silri scoffed. “I would have if an Imp scout ship hadn’t found me and taken me back to Dathomir. I guess that’s why I was chosen to be sent to you; I am disposable in the eyes of both Zsinj and Mother Gethzerion.”

Rax looked back to the officer. “And Zsinj had no interest in the holocron?”

The officer shook his head. “He does not think highly of… frivolous totems, as he put it. He said to give it to you so it wouldn’t ruin his decor.”

“How generous of him.” Rax then drew a holdout blaster and shot it directly into the officer’s chest. As the other man crumpled to the ground, Rax swiftly caught the holocron as it fell to the floor before turning and shooting down the two stormtroopers that had brought Silri in. He paid no heed to the shocked stares of everyone on the bridge as he beheld the Sith artifact in his hands.

“Inquisitor Jerec,” he said without tearing his gaze away. “Please free our Nightsister friend from her shackles and then show her to her cell. She will wait there until she is needed.”

He did not wait for a response from Jerec as he made a swift departure from the bridge. He did not remember entering the turbolift or inputting the code to his personal quarters; all he could think of was the artifact in his hands, the knowledge it contained whispering to him every step of the way.

As he entered the darkness of his room, he peered into the shadows and presented the artifact to the man waiting within. From the shadows, Darth Vorath extended a withered hand and Rax gingerly placed it into his fragile palm. The Dark Lord then spoke out to him, his sibilant voice filling Rax’s mind.

“Ready your forces, Admiral. The time has finally come.”

*  *  *

Jerec remained where he stood after Admiral Rax had made his abrupt departure from the bridge, taking the Sith holocron with him. The Nightsister Silri was still kneeling next to the two stormtroopers that had just been gunned down by Rax, her hands still locked within stun cuffs.

She lifted her eyes up at him and raised her bound arms expectantly. “Well? Aren’t you going to—?”

With a snap-hiss, Jerec swung his saber and shattered the stun cuffs, nearly taking Silri’s hands and face in the process. As the Dathomiri witch let out a string of curses, Jerec turned sharply to an officer—the first one that had approached Rax—and raised a finger to him.

“Take her to a cell and keep her there. Bring an entire squad of stormtroopers with you. No matter what you do, do not let her into your head!”

The officer snapped off a quick salute before carrying out his orders. Jerec then headed down the bridge as well, destined for his own personal quarters. He entered the room to find his apprentice—his last living apprentice—sitting cross-legged in a meditative position. As he closed the door behind, Sariss opened her eyes and regarded him with cold green eyes.

“You seem troubled, my lord.”

Jerec huffed as he began to pace back and forth. “I am beginning to lose faith in this contingency plan of our glorious Emperor.”

Sariss uncrossed her legs and rose to her full height. “You do not believe it will succeed?”

“Not with Rax at the helm. He appears to be… distracted. Unfocused. As if he is not the one fully in control.”

“Do you suspect someone else, then?”

Jerec stopped in his tracks and lifted a hand to his chin. “That Sith Lord… the one he calls Vorath… he has not told me anything about him. Where he found him, where he has been throughout all of this time, why the Emperor and Lord Vader were unaware of him… nothing.”

“Is there a chance he is an impostor?” Sariss asked.

Jerec considered the thought before shaking his head. “No, he is definitely strong in the dark side. I can sense that much. But there is a chance he may simply be claiming to be a Sith.”

“Even so,” Sariss said, “if he is strong in the dark side, then surely the Emperor would have known of him.”

“And maybe he did.” It was an ironic echo of Rax’s own words, one that he knew Sariss would not catch on to. He turned his head towards her, a mirthless smirk curving from his lips. “After all, your father was a powerful practitioner of the dark side whom the Emperor was well aware of, and he was not Sith.”

Sariss stiffened and Jerec could feel the anger boiling within her at the mention of her father. “Clearly he was not powerful enough,” she said coldly. “He perished at Mindor.”

“Did he?”

Sariss’ hesitation in responding lasted only for a second, but it was enough for Jerec to notice. “I felt his death in the Force.”

“Ah. Perhaps I underestimated the connection you had with him.”

Sariss said nothing to this but her furious glare spoke volumes. Jerec merely smirked before resuming his pacing.

“In any case, I do not expect any straight answers from Rax, nor do I believe he will allow me to speak with Vorath himself. Which means I will have to find answers some other way.”

“And what is it you have in mind?”

He stopped again and his grin broadened even further. “That, my young apprentice, is where you will come in. I am unable to leave this ship without Rax noticing. You, on the other hand, are specially trained in slipping away without people noticing.”

Sariss bowed her head. “I will perform whatever task you ask of me, master.”

“Good. You are to travel to Dromund Kaas.”

Sariss stiffened again, anger flashing behind her eyes once more. “Why there? The Prophets will be of no use.”

“The Prophets of the Dark Side, if any of them remain, have long since vacated Dromund Kaas. No, instead you will find a secret cache of holocrons and artifacts that the Emperor maintained on that planet without their knowledge. Only Cronal knew of the cache, knowledge which he had passed on to me.”

Sariss seemed to relax somewhat. “You believe there will be information on Vorath there?”

“If it is to be anywhere, it would be there, although I’m sure the Emperor had other caches scattered across the galaxy.” Jerec lifted his head up, studying his apprentice closely through the vision the Force gave him of her. “Can I trust you to carry out this task?”

She bowed her head again. “Of course, master. I will not fail you.”

“Excellent. I suggest you leave now before Rax emerges from his quarters. The less he is reminded of your existence, the better.”

Sariss gave a firm nod before heading for the door. After she had left the room and the door had resealed shut, the thought idly crossed his mind that he might very well have sent his apprentice to her death; if she got too close to the truth and Rax or Vorath found out about it, then they would no doubt dispatch their agents after her to stop her from getting the information back to Jerec.

And he would not do anything to stop them. Sariss was skillful, yes, but not exactly the most ideal apprentice. Should another come along, he would gladly replace Sariss with them.

All he cared now was finding out what exactly it was Rax and his newfound Sith ally were hiding from him, and whether or not this plan of theirs would succeed. After all was said and done, he would return to his efforts of finding the Valley of the Jedi… with or without Sariss.

A long day was ahead of him, that much he knew. He just couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Transformers Regenerated: Tales from the Convoy Corps - Megalo Convoy

ON THE SHOULDERS OF GIANTS: MEGALO CONVOY'S TALE

Cycle 9314 (~1514 CE in Earth years)

“Oi! Careful with that beam, Moledive! Only so much of those to go around.”

The massive teal-and-tan mech grumbled in response as he thundered past Megalo Convoy, hefting a large metal beam on his shoulders. Moledive looked rather awkward carrying the beam given his arms terminated in a drill and pincers rather than standard hands, but he had been at this for long enough to handle them without much issue. That didn’t stop Megalo and the others from issuing words of caution, of course, especially when they did actually need to be careful with whatever resources they had left.

Planting his hands on his hips, Megalo Convoy directed his gaze to the massive skyscrapers that overshadowed the entire planet of Gigantion. Ever since Nova Prime had established this colony world thousands of years ago, the people of Gigantion had been hard at work, creating a giant city that covered the entire surface. Nova Prime had envisioned Gigantion serving as an all-encompassing hub for the space bridge network, where Transformers from all of the other colonies could come and interact with one another.

That had been the plan, at least. After Nova Prime and his crew vanished, his successor Nominus Prime had gradually diverted resources away from the Expansion project, and it had been all but abandoned by the time of his death. It was only after the First Great War, when Sentinel Prime had taken command, that the project was revitalized, albeit at a much more limited capacity (and a fixed amount of resources). And with the war that was currently being waged, it was no closer to completion now than it had been a millennium ago.

Still, they would keep on working. For all anyone knew, the war could end tomorrow and Cybertron would be ready to enter the Golden Age that had been promised so long ago. But Megalo Convoy knew better than to put his faith in Primes. He had learned his lesson long ago…

~5,000 years ago (Cycle 4315)

“Five hundred years ago, on this day, the once magnificent Crystal City was destroyed by the horrid monstrosity we know as Monstructor.”

All eyes were on Nominus Prime as he addressed the masses of Cybertron. It was the first time in a long time—perhaps since the departure of the Ark—that so many Cybertronians were gathered in a single place. Even those from the colony worlds, such as Caminus, Velocitron, and Gigantion had come to bear witness to this event, with the leaders of the invited colony worlds standing in a row behind the Prime as he delivered his speech.

“Crystal City was a historical and sacred landmark,” Nominus Prime went on, his blue and gold armor plating gleaming in the sunlight. “It was where the Primes of old came together and formed an alliance that would shape Cybertronian society as we know it today. Some even say that Prima himself was birthed from the very soil that Crystal City was built upon. The fact that it was desecrated by such wanton destruction is a tragedy that haunts my memory to this day.”

Standing among the other colony representatives, Megaloplex tried not to scoff. He knew a rehearsed speech when he heard one; nothing the Prime was saying came from the spark. He probably could not care less about what had befallen Crystal City. Otherwise, he would have given the speech the day after the incident rather than five hundred years later. The crowd seemed to be eating it up however, as they looked on with expressions of grief and sorrow.

“On that day, we lost a symbol,” Nominus went on. “It was not long after we lost our glorious leader Nova Prime as well. Since then, we have stagnated as a people, stuck in one place, never moving forward. But that changes today!”

The Prime’s expression brightened as he kicked on his leg thrusters and lifted up in the air, flying to a viewscreen that was now showing a bulky femme in silver armor plating. Behind her were six mechs with construction alternate modes, all bearing a uniform yellow color scheme. They stood on a mobile platform that was now being raised above the crowd, all seven of its occupants waving to the applause erupting from the audience.

“Under the guidance of Termagax of Kaon and her team, a new Crystal City shall be erected on top of where the old one stood. It shall signal a rebirth of our people, a rebirth for Cybertron, as we enter the Golden Age our glorious leader promised!”

The crowd erupted in cheers but it all became white noise to Megaloplex. He didn’t even bother paying attention to the rest of the Prime’s speech as he knew it was all fluff and grandstanding at this point. The prospect of a new Crystal City sounded promising, but in the last five hundred years Nominus Prime had yet to fulfill any of the promises he had made since he had assumed the mantle.

It was several hours after the ceremony, and after most of the crowd had dispersed, that Megaloplex managed to speak with Nominus one-on-one. The Prime was finishing a conversation with Termagax and he looked as if he was about ready to take off. When he noticed Megaloplex’s approach, his expression seemed to sour but he quickly masked it with a showy grin.

“Ah, Megaloplex! What a surprise! I, uh, I thought you had already departed with the rest of the representatives.”

“Aye, I simply wanted to wish you and Termagax good fortune in this project o’ yours,” Megaloplex said. He then narrowed his red optics as he affixed Nominus with a stern look. “And to see if you had given any thought yet to me own proposal.”

“Your own propo—? Ah.” Nominus cleared his vocal processor. “You’re referring to the Axiom Nexus project, I take it?”

“What else would it be? It is Nova Prime’s legacy, after all.”

“Right, right, of course it is. No doubt about that.” Nominus shifted uncomfortably, the wings on his back twitching. “It’s just that, you know, there are only so many resources we can spare at any given time, and it’s taken quite a while to gather the right amount for the Crystal City project. Something like Axiom Nexus is on a completely different scale.”

“One that I am sure we will move on to once Crystal City is a success, yes?” Termagax said pointedly. Megaloplex couldn’t help but smile; he always knew he shared a kindred spark with the lass.

“Oh, sure! No doubt, no doubt.” Nominus Prime made an exasperated sound before glancing furtively to his chronometer. “Well, would you look at the time! I’ve got at appointment back at the High Council Pavilions. Being a Prime is busy work, you know!”

Before either Megaloplex or Termagax could stop him, Nominus converted to his jet mode and took off, flying faster than Megaloplex had seen anyone fly before. The leader of Gigantion watched him go before letting out a sigh.

“Just about the answer I was expectin’.”

Termagax glanced up at him. “I take it you are not a fan of the current Prime?”

“I am not one to get into politics, lass, beyond my current station. I was simply hopin’ that perhaps we could finally pick up where Nova Prime had left off before he departed. But after five centuries, it truly feels as if we are simply going backwards rather than forward.”

“Rebuilding Crystal City is a step in the right direction though, is it not?”

“Aye, perhaps. But Crystal City stood long before Nova or Nominus came along. If anything, it represents more of a return to the status quo rather than a new change.”

“I can see what you mean,” Termagax murmured. “To be honest, a new Crystal City wasn’t my first idea, but the Prime told me that he needed a proof of concept from me and my team before he would go through with my original plan.”

“Oh? And pray tell would that be?”

Termagax shifted her feet, suddenly looking nervous from the attention he was giving her. “I… I call it the Winged Moon.” She raised her right arm and pressed a control panel near her wrist. A blue light emitted from her servo and displayed a small holographic image of a spherical object with panels extending from it. “It’s supposed to be a new satellite for Cybertron that will draw energy from nearby stars and distill it back into Cybertron in the form of energon.” 

Megaloplex’s optics went wide. “Well, now, that is quite the undertaking. That could solve Cybertron’s own energy crisis. Are you confident such a thing would work?”

“Well, Councilor Shockwave seems to think so, and I have his backing. He thinks that if Crystal City is a success, then enough of the other Councilors will join him in forming a majority, meaning the Prime will have to at least consider it. And I can’t imagine he would say no…”

“Aye, he would be a fool to do so. Time will tell if he is one or not.” Megaloplex beamed down at her. “Ye’ have a bright future ahead of you, lass. Ye’ would’ve made Nova Prime proud.”

Termagax grinned at that. “You think so? I had only just been forged when he left Cybertron. I had always wanted to meet him….”

“Well, perhaps someday he will finally return and knock some sense into ol’ Nominus. And I guarantee you he would have a place for you in his inner circle. You would be right up there with the likes of ol’ Jhiaxus.”

“You honor me with your words, Megaloplex. You have no idea how please I am to hear you say them.”

Megaloplex chuckled. “Aye, just don’t let it get to your head, lass. Wouldn’t want to turn out like ol’ Nominus now, would you?”

Termagax laughed. “I don’t think anyone would.”

Now

“Chief? Er, Chief?”

Megalo Convoy stirred out of his memory and cast his gaze down… all the way down to the Mini-Con standing at his feet. The small gray and blue bot was standing there with a concerned expression on his face.

“Eh? Oi, my apologies, lad.” The giant leader sighed. “Ye’ve caught me daydreamin’ again. What is it?”

Drillbit cocked his head to the side, studying his leader with a skeptical look. He then said, “Safeguard just radioed me. She says that there’s something you need to check out.”

“Ah, very well. Tell her I’ll be on my way.”

As Drillbit returned to his duties, Megalo Convoy converted into his alternate mode - a treaded vehicle armed with a scoop and giant saw - and started to roll in the direction of the Security Base. Because of his large size, Megalo was not exactly any quicker in his vehicle mode than he was in his robot mode, but it was fastest means of transportation he had at his disposal. He couldn’t help but envy some of the Mini-Cons that had come to call Gigantion home, such as Safeguard herself and the young trio she often hung around with. 

It was perhaps because of his slow journey that Megalo Convoy found himself daydreaming again, his mind reaching back into the depths of his memory banks once more…

600 years ago (Cycle 8714)

“Ye’ are asking to much of me, lad. I am no soldier.”

The young Autobot Optronix stood in Megaloplex’s shadow, his arms folded over his red and black chest as he affixed the Gigantion leader with a defiant stare.

“I am not asking you to be a soldier. I am asking you to be a defender.”

Megaloplex tilted his head, returning Optronix’s stare with a skeptical look. “And you are convinced these… Destructons, you call ‘em? You think they’re comin’ for Cybertron and her worlds?”

“They have already laid waste to planets within the Vestial Imperium and the Nebulon Republic. It won’t be long before they are encroaching on our territory.”

“Surely then this would be a job for the Elite Guard, no?”

“It is, and Sentinel Prime has already prepared Cybertron’s defenses. But it won’t be enough, especially not for the colony worlds. That’s why I’m coming to you, as I have the others.”

“Ye’ mean Nitro and the others have already agreed to this plan of yours?”

“Nitro, Atlas, pretty much everyone. I’ve even recruited some other bots to bolster our defenses.” Optronix waved a hand to the massive cityscape surrounding them. “Gigantion is too vital to lose to these destructive freaks. All of the work you and your people have done over the last millennia will be for naught if the Destructons make their way here.”

Megaloplex sniffed dismissively. “Aye, rather convenient that now ye care about our work when it is in danger, but not when things are at peace. Do you any idea how I’ve needed to pull screw and nail to get the funding and resources for this project? If any of the Primes since Nova have had their way, this project would have been abandoned ages ago.”

“Well, I can assure you that when I am Prime, Gigantion and the Axiom Nexus project will be my first priority—”

Megaloplex laughed bitterly. “When you are Prime, eh? I didn’t realize Sentinel had already picked out a successor.”

Optronix shifted awkwardly. “I, uh, misspoke. If I ever become Prime, then I will make sure Nova Prime’s vision is seen through to completion.”

“Hmph. I’ve heard those words before, lad. More times than I can count. I have yet to see anyone come through with their promises.”

“Well, in any case, there still needs to be a Gigantion left to finish if there is any hope of seeing those promises fulfilled.” The young Autobot extended a hand. “So are you with me or not?”

Megaloplex narrowed his optics as he looked down at the proffered hand. Surprising even himself, it did not take him long to give an answer.

Now

Megalo Convoy pulled himself out of the memory as he rolled into the command center for the security base. Like most interiors on Gigantion, the room was incredibly large and spacious to accommodate the native Gigantians and their massive size, which made the Mini-Cons that staffed it look even more comically small than they did in “normal” sized rooms like those on Cybertron.

Regardless of size, the Mini-Cons’ chief of security Safeguard maintained a commanding presence as she hovered across the room, checking in on others’ stations and making sure the Recon Team trio were not getting into any trouble. When Megalo Convoy rolled in and transformed to robot mode, the small white Mini-Con immediately switched her attention to him and flew over to hover in front of him.

“Chief, we’ve detected a strange anomaly at the edge of the system. It appears to be giving off energon signatures.”

“Aye, let’s give it a look then.” Megalo Convoy followed her to the primary console, which currently displayed a visualization of the Gigalonia system on the screen. Most of the planets besides Gigantion were either uninhabitable rocks or gas giants, and Megalo knew that there were only nine planets total within the system. But, as he studied the visuals on the screen, he saw that there were instead ten planets… and one of them was changing positions rapidly.

“Is it… mobile?” he asked.

“It appears so,” Safeguard replied. “It originally started out on the dark side of Gigalonia-9, but it’s already shifted position to intersect Gigalonia-3 and 2’s orbits. I’m not sure how it’s managing to do that.”

“And you say it’s givin’ off energon readings?”

“Yes. We’ve already tried making contract but no one is picking up. Not a good sign, if you ask me.”

“Aye, I’d be inclined to agree.” He rubbed his chin as he continued to study the screen. “Have you prepared any of our defenses?”

“I’ve already raised the silent alarm. If it comes within our orbit and still does not answer any of our calls, then will be the time to panic.”

“Oi, there will be no panicking. We will stand strong and defend our world from whatever they throw at us. We are giants, big or small.”

An alert chimed at the console. Before their optics, the visuals on the screen changed.

“It’s moving within our orbit,” Safeguard murmured. “Now might be the time to—”

Without warning, the lights in the room suddenly went out. At the same time, the ground beneath their feet began to tremble violently. Several Mini-Con staffers were knocked off their feet and even Megalo Convoy had difficulty maintaining his balance. He shifted his arms and legs into their laborer configuration, using their extra bulk to ground himself as he stomped towards the door. Safeguard flew behind him, drawing a pair of tiny swords.

Upon stepping outside, Megalo Convoy found the city plagued in darkness, with not a single star in sight—not even the planet’s own sun. Instead, the surface of an entire planet encompassed the sky, looming over the city like the head of a massive giant. The mysterious planet appeared to be entirely metallic, with twin gold bands stretching around the surface to create a large X-shaped symbol.

As citizens, both large and small, started to panic around him, Megalo Convoy saw two vehicles—a teal drill tank and an orange mixer—drive up to him. Both converted to robot mode, taking on the forms of his two primary advisers Moledive and Blender. Their respective Mini-Con partners sat on their shoulders.

Moledive waved a giant arm in the direction of the looming X Planet. “Care to explain this, ‘chief?’”

Megalo Convoy frowned. “Aye, wish I could, lad. But—”

“Don’t ‘lad’ me! How in the Pit are we in any way, shape or form prepared to handle something like… this?!”

“Relax, Moledive,” said Blender. “Stripmine tells me that the defenses have already been raised. We’ll handle this, just like we did the Destructons.”

“Will we? Because back then, we at least had Cybertron on our side.” Moledive gestured widely around them. “Do you see any Autobots anywhere? Because I sure don’t!”

“I do.” Megalo Convoy patted the Autobot insignia on his shoulder. “We are all Autobots here, Moledive.”

Moledive narrowed his optics. “You might be, but I’d hardly say we all are. I never took on the Autobrand… and I’m starting to think I had the right idea.”

“Oi, can this wait?” Blender said. “Because I think we have bigger problems at hand.”

He pointed to the sky and Megalo Convoy followed his gaze back towards the sky. A massive cloud had suddenly formed and was quickly descending towards the surface. As it drew closer, Megalo Convoy realized it was no ordinary cloud made of particles or anything of the sort.

It was a swarm. A swarm comprised of hundreds upon thousands of identical silver and gold bots, armed with blades and arm-mounted cannons. Their “faces” were nothing more than a featureless blue visor, crowned by a horned crest that called to mind images and caricatures of the fabled Chaos-Bringer.

Moledive was right; this was different from the Destructon conflict. But that didn’t mean they were going to just give up.

This was their city.

Drawing his massive saw-blade axe, Megalo Convoy adjusted it into its battle position. “Take arms, lads. It’s time to address these big problems… with even bigger solutions!”

*  *  *

“I will give credit where it is due, Jhiaxus. This plan of yours just may very well pay off.”

Jhiaxus allowed himself a smile as he watched the hordes of Terrorbots pour out of Planet X’s factories and descend upon the unsuspecting populace of Gigantion. The people of Gigantion may have been large in size, but they were few in number, which made their world ideal to conquer in such a fashion.

“To give credit of my own,” Jhiaxus said, “I owe this all to Liege Maximo. He had told me of his secret colony world shortly before his exile, and it was a secret I had kept even from Nova Prime. When we established the Nega-Cores, I remembered his plans for an expansive hub connecting Cybertron and all her territories together. I figured it would only make sense to bring that dream to fruition in order to accelerate the Chaos-Bringer’s liberation.”

“Indeed.” Galvatron’s holographic form shimmered beside Jhiaxus as it moved and cast its gaze in his direction. “And this body of yours… you called it a proxy?”

“For lack of a better term.” Jhiaxus raised his right arm, admiring its pearly white sheen, covered in wires that curled up to his shoulder and around his torso. “Liege Maximo called it the next step of our race’s evolution. It does not require a spark or laser core to function—simply pure energy. The Second Generation, he called it.”

“Hmph. And I take it these… Terrorbots are also part of this ‘Second Generation’?”

“These specific ones, yes. He took inspiration from the mindless drones that obeyed our former enslavers during the Age of Wrath and perfected the concept. These Noisemaze-types may not be triple changers like their Overcharge precursors, but they are even more versatile.”

“We shall see.” Galvatron folded his arms. “This will be their ultimate test. Nothing short of complete success will impress me.”

Jhiaxus grinned. “Not to worry, my lord. I will provide you with nothing but.”

*  *  * 

“There’s too many of them! We’re being overwhelmed—!”

“Stand tall, Moledive!” Megalo Convoy cried as he brought his giant axe down onto three of the silver drones, crushing all of them at once. “We shall defend our city or die trying! Surrender is not an option!”

“Maybe so.” Moledive grabbed one of the drones with his clawed arm and drove a drill into its cranium with the other. “But death might be one.”

“Ever the morale booster, aren’t you, Moledive?” Blender lifted his right arm, which terminated in a giant mixing drum, and it split down the middle, revealing a cannon. He fired a blast at an oncoming wave of invaders and decimated their numbers, although it did little to stall the rest of the swarm. The remaining drones bypassed him and attempted to grab Stripmine off his shoulder only for another blast from his cannon to stop them.

“We should do something for the Mini-Cons though,” Blender then said. “Shall we send them to the escape pods?”

“Aye, that be a good idea, lad.” Megalo Convoy raised a hand to his helm. “Safeguard! If you can read me, get yerself and the other little ones to the pods! Get clear of here as quickly as ye’ can!”

“Are you sure, chief? I don’t want to abandon—”

“Ye’ won’t be abandoning us, lass, just saving yerselves. We’ll hold them off as long as we can.”

“Very well, sir. I’ll see to it.”

Megalo Convoy allowed himself to smile. “That’s good to hear.” He then turned to Moledive and Blender and raised his arm to the sky. “Keep fightin’, lads! They will not take us down so easily! For Gigantion!”

*  *  *

“Oh, sweet Primus, I never thought this day would come! I knew we were at war, but I never thought it’d come to Gigantion!”

“Relax, Jolt.” Safeguard placed a hand on the red Mini-Con’s shoulder. “I understand this is hard for you and your brothers to process. Just get yourselves into one of the pods; I’ll make sure you have a safe launch.”

“Where are we even going to go?” asked Six-Speed. “Cybertron’s too dangerous and I hear the Decepticons are striking at all sorts of worlds in the Commonwealth and beyond!”

“I have the pods primed to take you to an uninhabited system that’s remote and safe. From there you can send out a distress signal and one of the routine Autobot patrols will likely pick you up.”

“And if the ‘Cons find us instead?” asked Reverb.

Safeguard sighed. “Don’t think about that. Please, just go. We don’t have much time.”

There was a loud thundering sound from outside, which gave Jolt and his brothers all the signs they needed. After giving a heartfelt farewell to Safeguard, Jolt led the other two towards one of the remaining pods. Some of the others had already taken off, including one carrying Long Arm and his brothers. Safeguard hadn’t had time to prep that one with a predetermined location; she only hoped that trio ended up somewhere safe. 

After seeing to the rest of the pods, Safeguard turned her attention to the last one remaining. Drillbit, Stripmine, and Heavyload were already loading themselves into the pod. As Drillbit raised a hand to lower the hatch, he caught Safeguard’s eye and frowned.

“I’m sorry, Safeguard, but…”

“There’s only room for three. I know.” She waved a hand. “Just get out of here. Now.”

“Maybe I can stay behind. Convoy might—”

“No. I made peace with my fate long ago. Now get out of here before—”

A ripping sound came from above as one of the silver drones began to tear through the roof of the launch bay. Before Drillbit could close the hatch to the pod, the Terrorbot grabbed the small vessel and pulled it free from its launch pad, reaching in to grab the Mini-Cons within.

“No!” Safeguard jumped up into the air and converted into her spacecraft mode, priming the two cannons that were mounted at her bow. “Let go of them, you freak!”

She fired and struck the drone in the hand. It dropped the pod and it crashed to the ground, causing its three occupants to fall out. The Terrorbot then set its sights on Safeguard and it raised its right arm, charging up the cannon mounted atop it.

Safeguard stared straight down the barrel, bracing herself for the end…

Just as she thought darkness was about to envelop her, there was a bright light as a large figure suddenly materialized behind the Terrorbot. It drove a sword straight into the drone’s back, the sparkling blue tip of its blade jutting out from the machine’s chest. The mysterious mech then pulled out the blade and let the Terrorbot’s body fall lifelessly to the ground.

Switching back to her robot mode, Safeguard got a good look at her savior. He was not quite as large as Megalo Convoy or any of the other Gigantians, being about the standard size of a Cybertronian. His armor plating was white and dark red, with specks of gold here and there. His dull blue metal of his face looked worn with age, and his red optics had a dim tint to them.

Whoever this bot was, he was old. Incredibly old. Perhaps even as old as the stars themselves.

As he lowered his sword, the ancient bot held up a small object, which almost looked like a key of some kind. It was shaped like a gear, with archaic symbols and runes printed onto it. The pistons in the mech’s arm groaned as he moved it, as if he had not moved in quite some time. With that movement, he inserted the key into a slot within his chest.

Then, instead of darkness, Safeguard found herself enveloped by light.

*  *  *

Jhiaxus screamed as the whole world was torn away from him.

He was back on Gorlam Prime, back in his old, inferior body. He was laying prone on the ground, surrounded by Galvatron—in his physical form—and the other Heralds of Unicron.

Galvatron bent down, grabbed Jhiaxus by the wing, and pulled him back up, bringing him close to his scowling face.

“What happened?” the leader of the Heralds demanded.

“I… I don’t know!” Jhiaxus exclaimed. “S-something severed the connection!”

“Severed the connection? What the blazes does that mean?”

“It means I can no longer reach my proxy body on Planet X. I… I have no idea what happened to it—”

Growling, Galvatron threw Jhiaxus back onto the ground before whirling on his lieutenant Scourge.

“Take your Sweeps to the Gigalonia system and find out what happened!”

Scourge frowned. “But, my lord, we must maintain our cover here or else—”

“Our cover means nothing if Planet X and Jhiaxus’s little army are unaccounted for in Autobot space! Now do as I command!”

Recognizing there was no room for him to argue, Scourge summoned three of his Sweeps and the four of them converted into their identical spacecraft modes, taking off into the sky.

*  *  *

“What… what did you do?”

Safeguard marveled at the sight that had been presented to her outside. The skies were clear, the mysterious planet of the invaders having seemingly vanished. The only drones now were the ones that had already been deactivated, their bodies littering the ground. Megalo Convoy and the other Gigantians clearly looked confused as they tried to process what had just happened.

The ancient robot said nothing at first as he removed the key from his chest slot. He somehow looked even more tired and old than he did before, something Safeguard did not think was possible. When he finally spoke, his vocal processor crackled as if it had not been used in eons.

“I broke my vow in order to save your world from catastrophe.”

“Vow?” Safeguard asked. “What do you mean?”

The ancient bot continued speaking with answering her question. “I have shifted your world into chronal phase. To the outside observer, it can no longer be seen or touched, shielding it from further harm.”

Safeguard shook her head. “I… I don’t understand. Are you saying we’re invisible?”

“For lack of a better term, yes. It was not something I did lightly, but it was the only way to prevent the Chaos-Bringer’s return. All other possible futures that I observed showed only Armageddon.”

“The Chaos-Bringer…?” Safeguard stared up at the old bot as if he had gone senile. “Are… are you saying he’s real? That he’s not just some myth or…?”

The ancient robot sighed heavily. “I have already said too much. I cannot in good conscience allow you to return to your people with the knowledge you now carry… including that of my existence.”

“So, what, you’re going to kill me?”

He looked down at her with a curious expression. “No,” he said, as if the thought had never crossed his mind. “I am going to bring you with me, to my realm, where you will be joined by my other… companions.”

“Your realm? I’m sorry but, what exactly kind of mech are you?”

She could have sworn she saw the tiniest hint of a smile cross his face. But when she blinked, it was gone.

“I am the kind of mech that the world has not seen in quite some time,” he said. “And if you ask me, there is good reason for that.”

He then raised his sword and sliced it through the air, cutting through reality to open a portal before Safeguard’s bewildered eyes.

“My name is Vector Prime. I am the guardian of time and space, keeper of the past, and protector of the future. And if you come with me, you will be able to help me prevent further possible catastrophes from happening.”

He extended an arm towards her.

“So, then, are you with me?”

Surprising even herself, it did not take long for her to answer.

Postscript

“There’s nothing here.”

“I can see that,” Scourge snapped back at one of the Sweeps. The four of them hovered in space, facing the orbital position which Gigantion was supposed to occupy, but there was no sign of it. Nor was there any sign of Planet X. It was as if both planets had been shunted out of reality.

The only sign of the struggle that had taken place here was a lone Noisemaze-type Terrorbot floating in the void of space. It was different from the others, having a black and silver color scheme rather than silver and gold, its visor tinted orange rather than blue.

One of the Sweeps reached out to touch the lone Noisemaze only for the Terrorbot to abruptly shift and move. Before Scourge’s very optics, the Noisemaze’s body began to shift and convert… but what it morphed into was not a vehicular alternate mode, but rather a completely different robot mode.

Now, instead of a sleek black spacecraft, the Terrorbot now looked as if it transformed into a purple and yellow motorcycle. A few seconds later, it morphed back into its original state.

As the Sweeps all exchanged confused looks with themselves, Scourge found himself smiling at this newfound discovery.

“Well, then,” he murmured to himself. “Perhaps there is something to be salvaged from this operation after all.”