Transformers Regenerated: War Stories XI--A Necessary Departure

EDITED 8/6/2015 Minor alteration to descriptions of some characters at the end of the chapter.

A NECESSARY DEPARTURE
Cybertron, Cycle 9701 (113 Years Ago)

   The horrors he had seen were unspeakable even to the least sensitive. He may have seen cities fall or even planets crumble to the Decepticons' wrath, yet none of those were able to match what he now saw.

   Cybertron was a graveyard world.

   Iacon, Tarn, Vos... cities that were once magnificent were now nothing but ruins, barely discrete from one another. And it was all because of one individual.

   Thunderwing.

   The mad Decepticon scientist, driven by the volatile Dark Energon, had come to Cybertron and began tearing the planet apart. Only a weak alliance between Autobots and Decepticons, as well as additional support from Omega Supreme, could bring the crazed giant down.

   In the end, so many and so much was left dead. Megatron had called for a temporary truce then, but he knew that it was only to allow the Decepticons enough time to regather their strength before attacking the Autobots when they were at their most vulnerable. The Autobots had to act fast before that could happen.

   Optimus Prime sighed as he looked down upon what was left of Iacon. Not even during the First Great War had it suffered as much as this.

   He had to do whatever was under his power to fix it.

*  *  *

   Six Autobots stood in the ruined building that had once been Fortress Maximus: the historian Alpha Trion; Elite Guard Commander Ultra Magnus; Commanders Elita-One and Grimlock; Chief Scientist Perceptor; and Optimus Prime. All of them stood around a holoprojector which displayed a map of the Autobot Commonwealth, as well as unaligned worlds on the edge of it.

   "Are you sure about this, Prime?" Ultra Magnus asked. "To abandon our home and simply find another? Don't you think it's... disrespectful to all that our ancestors have built?"

   "We are not abandoning Cybertron, old friend," Optimus replied. "We are simply setting out to find someway to repair it or replenish its energy."

   Grimlock grunted. "So we just leave Cybertron unprotected? Let the Decepticons take over?"

   Optimus shook his head. "Not all of us will be leaving. The Elite Guard, Wreckers, and other Autobots will be staying here to protect Cybertron from a potential Decepticon attack. Meanwhile, I will lead a crew of a hundred Autobots to find a way to restore our world."

   "Where would you go to?" asked Elita-One. "And what could possibly be out there that could restore Cybertron?"

   "I am not yet certain on the destination, but as for your other question...." Optimus paused briefly before saying, "There is the AllSpark."

   Grimlock snorted out a harsh laugh. "The AllSpark? That's just myth.... a tale to help protoforms sleep, like... like-"

   "The Matrix of Leadership?" Optimus asked pointedly.

   The Dynobot glowered but fell silent.

   "And even if it is just a myth, what else do we have to go by?" Alpha Trion asked. "Do we know of anything else to search for that will restore Cybertron? Or do we simply give up?"

   "What about the Matrix itself?" Ultra Magnus asked. "Can it restore Cybertron?"

   "I do not know what it is capable of," Optimus murmured. "And I don't think I want to risk the endeavor."

   "The choice is ultimately yours," Alpha Trion said. "You are, after all, the Prime."

   "Regrettably," Grimlock muttered under his breath, though the others paid him no heed.

   "So if we do choose to go after this AllSpark, what will be our choice of vessel?" inquired Perceptor. "Hardly any of our currently operating ships can hold more than fifty Autobots- with room to spare- and we lack the resources to create one."

   "I wouldn't say that..." Alpha Trion said.

   Optimus and the others turned to look at the sage. "What do you mean?" the Autobot leader asked.

   "During the First Great War- towards the end, to be specific- Sentinel Prime feared that a moment similar to this would occur. Therefore, he ordered the construction of an Ark."

   "An Ark?" Elita asked. "Just like Nova's?"

   Alpha Trion nodded. "He named it the Ark II and intended for it to be an escape vessel in the event that Trannis' Decepticons conquered Cybertron or ravaged it; neither, of course, occurred."

   "Then we shall use that as our vessel," Optimus Prime said. "Where is it located?"

   "Deep beneath the former site of the Metroplex."

   Optimus nodded. "Very well. Magnus, I want you to prepare a roster for Autobots to sign. We need at least a hundred on board before we can launch.

   "Consider it done." Ultra Magnus then lifted an eyebrow. "However, are a hundred Autobots really necessary to crew a ship?"

   "Perhaps not," Optimus Prime said quietly. "But if the Decepticons do commence an attack on Cybertron, I want less Autobots to be placed in harm's way."

   Magnus smiled- a rare expression from him nowadays. "I understand."

   He then left the room to perform his duties, and was soon followed by Grimlock and Perceptor. Only Optimus, Elita, and Alpha Trion remained.

   The Autobot leader turned to regard the two people he held dearest to him: one was like a father to him, the other a close friend who had become something more than just that over time.

   "I hope I am making the right choice," Optimus finally said.

   Elita smiled warmly. "If it wasn't, we'd be the first to tell you."

   Alpha Trion nodded in agreement and placed a reassuring hand on Optimus' shoulder. "Primes before you had been forced to make similar decisions: Nova when he confronted Galactus, Sentinel when he spared Trannis... you must follow wherever your spark leads you. And you will face further choices along the way, and never when you expect them.

   "After all, fate rarely calls upon us at a moment of our choosing."

   Optimus Prime smiled through his eyes. "Thank you, Alpha Trion. I will bear your wisdom in mind."

   The sage returned the smile. "I know you will, Orion. I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

EPILOGUE

   Night had fallen on Iacon, though no one standing in the chamber of Vector Sigma would have been able to tell. Located deep within Cybertron, the golden orb was placed between both of the planet's poles, though it was closer to Kaon than Iacon despite being inaccessible from the former.

   The guardian of Vector Sigma itself stepped into the chamber, humming an ancient rhythm long forgotten by the people of today. After pacing back and forth for what may have felt like eons to some, three beings suddenly materialized into the room:

   Solus Prime, her silver armor glistening in Vector Sigma's light;

   Micronus Prime, his small form encased in his floating emerald orb;

   And finally, Onyx Prime, his dragon-like wings folded around him like a cape.

   The guardian regarded them and nodded to each in greeting before saying, "I take it Alchemist and Vector could not make it."

   Solus nodded. "Alchemist is still tracking down Maximo... and you know how Vector is."

   "Yes, I understand," the guardian murmured. "And Amalgamous and Quintus... who knows where they are now."

   "Indeed," Onyx muttered. "Now then, why have you summoned us, Sig-Omega?"

   The guardian sighed. "Optimus Prime has left Cybertron, in search of the AllSpark... and has taken the Matrix with him."

   "So?" Micronus said. "Hasn't he done so several times in the past, over the course of the war?"

   "Yes, but this time, he doesn't plan on returning in the foreseeable future; at least not until he finds the AllSpark."

   Solus blinked, her mouth falling open. "Wait... you don't mean...?"

   Sig-Omega nodded sadly. "The Matrix of Leadership has never been taken away from Cybertron for this long. It will be the perfect opportunity for him."

   Micronus' eyes widened. "And if he returns, would that mean...?"

   Sig-Omega closed his eyes and sighed again. "I certainly hope not. The Autobots would be helpless to stop him and we would be unable to aid them."

   "So that's it then?" Onyx growled. "We just sit back and watch Cybertron burn?"

   Sig-Omega opened his eyes and frowned. "We were restrained for a reason, brother. For all of us to make our return would mean an apocalypse worse than the one Cybertron's already suffered."

   "Then why did you summon us if we can not do anything?"

   "There is one thing we can do. As I said, Optimus Prime has gone in search of the AllSpark. He will require some tools in order to find it."

   "Our artifacts?" Solus said in realization. "Are we to send them to Optimus directly?"

   "No. Our brother will most likely catch on rather quickly. It would be better if we spread them out... and not directly at the Allspark's locations, for he will notice that as well."

   "I concur with this notion," Micronus said. "Consider it done, brother."

   Onyx lifted a brow. "Will that be all then?"

   Sig-Omega nodded. "Yes, for the time being. I bid you all good fortune."

   With that, the four Primes vanished, leaving Alpha Trion alone in the chamber of Vector Sigma, completely unaware of what had happened.

*  *  *

   A storm tore Kaon asunder. The few buildings that had survived the Cataclysm crumbled to dust as lightning struck them. Abandoned construction equipment flew everywhere. 

   At the very center of the tempest, a portal opened and a tall, dark figure stepped through it. Once it had completed its passage, the portal closed and the storm suddenly stopped, allowing the newcomer to stand in peace.

   Tall and heavily armored, coils of fire protruded from all around him, surrounding his large figure. After taking in the ravaged scenery of Kaon, The Fallen spoke, his voice sounding eons older than the stars.

   "Cybertron. Well... it's been a long time."

   The Dark Age had begun.

TO BE CONTINUED

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories X--Spectrum of Morality

   EDITED 12/15/2017 Changed Breakaway, Landquake, and Topspin's names to their SG counterparts. Kept Skyfall to prevent continuity errors and Heatwave since he's the only one who doesn't share his name with someone else.

SPECTRUMS OF MORALITY

   Timeline: Cycle 9614 (AD 1814) (200 Years Ago)

-

   It's great to be alive.

   Quakebreak grinned as he observed the empty battlefield. Thanks to the Aerialbots' air support, the Autobots had managed to scare off the Decepticon forces on Urtusk and liberate the natives.

   Of course, none of it could have been done without him.

   Quakebreak moved away from the scenery and found his commanding officer, Silverbolt, speaking with the Urtuskian leader.

   "Think nothing of it, High Shaman," the Aerialbot leader said. "We're simply doing what we can to protect other worlds from our war."

   "We greatly appreciate it," the Urtuskian said, his face-trunk curling up. "However, I understand that the Galactic Council has recently put you on their blacklist."

   Silverbolt frowned. "Indeed. Either way, I do hope the Nebulon Republic will tolerate our presence in their territory."

   Quakebreak grinned as he interrupted the conversation. "They certainly will if they know that it was Quakebreak who saved the day!"

   Silverbolt rolled his eyes at Quakebreak's outburst. "All you did notably was save those younglings."

   "Which we greatly appreciate, by the way," the High Shaman said.

   Quakebreak nodded, still grinning. "And by saving those younglings, I've saved the futures of millions. I'm sure the Nebulons will greatly appreciate that!"

   "Just get back to the Darkstar, Quakebreak," Silverbolt snapped.

   The Aerialbot saluted his commander and made his way back to the ship. He simply loved being an Autobot; saving lives, preserving futures, laying out the foundations for peace....

   Nothing could make him happier.

*  *  *

   Nothing could have made Landfall any more upset than he already was.

   As the Kalis' Lament traveled through hyperspace, having made a fast getaway from Urtusk, he deeply wished that he was back in the city the ship was named after, working at the energon refineries.

   It wasn't like he hated fighting- he had always carried an interest in combat. But the constant in-fighting and back-stabbing that occurred within the Decepticon ranks was quickly growing tiresome. He never knew when or if one of his comrades would kill him just to accomplish a personal goal.

   Seated in the Thanatos-class ship's passenger bay, Landfall glanced at his fellow Decepticon Oil Slick, whose domed helmet reflected the light of his messaging device.

   "Who are you messaging, Slick?" Landfall asked.

   "A pal of mine," Oil Slick replied. "Name's Spinaway."

   "What's he messaging you about?"

   "He's got some guy leaking him data from the Autobots. Most of it is chemical formulas. He's the one who leaked the Gideon's Glue formula."

   "Ah." Landfall repressed a shudder as he recalled that horrible day on Babu Yar. Despite being one of the Decepticons who had served under Gideon, he couldn't help but pity the Autobots that had fell then.

   Some days, though he would never vocally admit it, he almost wish he wasn't a Decepticon.

*  *  *

   There was never a day that Spinaway wished to be anything but a Decepticon.

   Seated at his station on Ijurn, his fingers flew across his keypad, accessing encrypted Autobot channels and hacking into terminals in mere seconds. He couldn't have found a better pastime than this.

   "Incoming call," a monotonic voice said. "Source: Fireball."

   Spinaway accepted the call. The text on his monitor was soon replaced by a silhouetted face. A heavily modulated voice spoke.

   "Spinaway. I have another formula that may interest you."

   Spinaway smirked. "Another one, Fireball? Going by the last one you sent, I must say that you Autobots came up with some pretty scary stuff."

   The silhouetted Fireball tilted his head. "Well, a good majority of these were ones rejected by the Ethics Committee. Anyway, I'm sure your commanders will find this one interesting... specifically Thunderwing."

   Spinaway lifted a brow. "Thunderwing?"

   Fireball nodded. "We- the Autobots have been keeping optics on him ever since that Dark Energon incident on Ijurn a few centuries ago... not to mention the one on Styx when we were nearly two decades into the war."

   "I see. So this formula involves Dark Energon?"

   "I've... reworked it slightly so that it could."

   Spinaway smirked again. "Very well. Thank you for this info, Fireball."

   The Autobot traitor nodded while Spinaway downloaded the data before ending the connection. He then got out of his seat and headed for his commander's office.

   If this data was legit, it could be what the Decepticons needed to win this war.

*  *  *

   The data was legit. He had no doubt that it would ensure the Decepticons' victory.

   Skyfall slumped in his chair. This was his breaking point; he had to stop leaking info to the 'Cons, for it was becoming clear that he would not be getting anything out of it anytime soon.

   It had started with Ironfist's formula for mycopropelene- better known as Gideon's Glue. He was not sure what had compelled him to leak it- or the formulas that followed- but he had always regretted it whenever he ended the call.

   There was only one sure way to end this; he had made so many mistakes and he could not bear to spend his life in prison or even through spark extraction. He had to ensure that he would never cause any more trouble again.

   He unclipped his blaster from his hip. He aimed it at his head. He pulled the trigger.

*  *  *

   He had pulled the trigger.

   Heatwave looked down at the unconscious form of Skyfall. Kimia's security personnel had traced an encrypted call sent to the Decepticons to this office, and had dispatched Heatwave to handle him. As he bent down to pick up Skyfall's body, Heatwave shook his head in mild disgust.

   There was one in every faction: an Autobot who was pure good; a Decepticon who was pure evil; an Autobot swayed by the side of evil; and a Decepticon swayed by the side of good. And then there were bots like himself.

   Who just wanted it all to end.

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories IX--Seeking for Glory

SEEKING FOR GLORY

--Cycle 9114 (Year 300 of the Great War)--

   If someone were to mention the Seekers, even when among the highest ranks of the Decepticon army, the first and perhaps only names to cross the mind would be Starscream, Thundercracker, Skywarp, Ramjet, Dirge, and Thrust. Every once in a while, a name like Slipstream, Sunstorm, or even Acid Storm may crop up.

   But to bring up the names Nacelle, Bitstream, or Hotlink would only get blank stares.

   Pretty much any Seeker who was not one of the "Big Six" (or nine, in some cases) were considered mere cannon fodder at best. No one cared about who they were, where they came from, or what would happen to them. They were right at the bottom of the food chain, along with nameless Vehicon and Genricon troopers.

   And yet, the strange thing about it was, none of said Seekers cared about it. They didn't mind if they weren't going to make it into the history records or were not going to receive a statue in the Hall of Heroes. None of them desired such fame.

   None of them, that is, save for Contrail.

   To think that a mere three centuries ago, he was a member of Cybertron's High Council, sitting among the likes of Halogen, Dai Atlas, and even Sentinel Prime, only to be reduced to a no-name Seeker. He craved for more than just that. No, he deserved more. To have been a confidant to the Prime himself, he deserved to be in the position of Air Commander instead of that fool Starscream. He deserved to be scheming with the likes of Megatron and Shockwave.

   He deserved to be more than just a Seeker.

*  *  *

   "Did you hear the news?"

   Hotlink bit back a fiery retort. Without looking up from the weapon he was in the middle of working on, he calmly said, "What news, Bitstream?"

   The light blue Seeker glanced around them before speaking in a low, conspiratorial whisper. "That Contrail is planing a coup."

   Hotlink scoffed. "Didn't he try that five years ago before getting cold servos?"

   "This time he's serious," Bitstream said. "I think, anyway. Least he sounded serious."

   "Wait." Hotlink looked up from his work. "He told you?"

   Bitstream smiled weakly. "Not directly. I was doing my standard routine- you know, hack into the Autobots' computer systems- and ended up finding an encrypted message sent to Autoclave from Contrail."

   "Ah. Who's the coup against then? Megatron?"

   Bitstream shook his head. "Starscream. Apparently Contrail wants the role of Air Command for himself."

   Hotlink snorted. "Seriously? Does he really think Megatron's gonna accept and trust him as Air Commander after just shooting Screamer in the face?"

   "See, that's the thing: he's pulling out everything to make sure Megatron doesn't know."

*  *  *

   The plan was something even Shockwave would be proud of.

   Starscream was due to arrive at Seeker Orbital Base Iota in less than a megacycle. Upon arrival, he would no doubt wish to speak with Contrail and, perhaps, be offered a glass of energon. If that was the case, Autoclave would provide him energon that had been modified to clog Startscream's intake systems and thus kill him.

   However, if the Air Commander declined the energon, then the meeting would go on as usual. Once it had ended, and if it did so on good terms, then Contrail would pat Starscream on the back and attach a bomb, which would detonate once Starscream had left the office. If the meeting ended badly, then the Air Commander would likely storm out of the office and be shot point-blank by Nacelle. 

   Regardless of what happened, the result would be the same and the Seekers would provide an alibi to Megatron and no doubt ensure Contrail's ascension to Air Commander.

   It was, all in all, a fool-proof plan.

*  *  *

   "Would you like a glass of energon?"

   "No," Starscream said bitterly.

   Contrail frowned as he set aside the poisoned energon. So much for Plan A. Taking a seat across from the Air Commander, the gold and black Seeker then said, "What brings you here to my station?"

   "There have been rumors of a coup against me."

   Contrail stiffened slightly. "By whom?" he asked innocently.

   "The accounts vary," Starscream hissed. "Some say Thunderwing, others say Onslaught, and even a few say some of my own Seekers."

   "That's preposterous," Contrail said. "We are all loyal to you and you only, Air Commander."

   There was a twinkle in Starscream's optic. "Can you truly speak for all of your Seekers, Contrail?"

   The gold Seeker stared at him in silence, feigning uncertainty. When he did not speak, Starscream continued.

   "Anyway, in case any of these rumors are true, I need you to be on the lookout. Anyone on this station could be against me. Take the one called Bitstream for instance. For all we know, he could be devising schemes via his cyber-interface."

   Contrail scratched his chin. "It's a possibility."

   "Or what about Autoclave and Hotlink? They're always tinkering away with their little inventions... one which could be used against me. Or perhaps Nacelle and-"

   "With all due respect, Air Commander, you're being a bit paranoid. No one would have the circuitry to assassinate someone like you."

   Starscream smirked, the same twinkle in his eye. "Not even you, the former High Councilor who survived Simanzi and braved the Corroder?"

   Contrail masked his apprehension with a smile. "Perhaps, but I am far too humble to even consider assassinating you for personal gain."

   Seemingly satisfied with this answer, Starscream rose out of his seat, Contrail doing the same. "In that case, I'll be taking my leave," the Air Commander said. "Thank you for sparing the time, and please do be on the lookout."

   "It was my pleasure," Contrail said as he moved to pat Starscream on the back. The Air Commander moved in a blur, seizing Contrail's arm and twisting it behind his back. As the gold Seeker cried out, Starscream pushed him face-first onto his desk and aimed a null-ray at his head.

   "The pleasure is mine," Starscream hissed into his ear before pulling the trigger.

*  *  *

   "I always knew Contrail would come to a bad end," Autoclave muttered as he, Hotlink, Bitstream, and Nacelle stood over their late commander's lifeless body. "I only stuck with his plan to humor him."

   "How did Starscream know about the plot anyway?" Hotlink mused aloud.

   "I told him," Bitstream said, receiving surprised looks from the others. "The moment I came across Contrail's message to Autoclave, I forwarded it to Starscream. I timed it good with his planned meeting."

   Nacelle smirked. "So you admit that you're loyal to Starscream?"

   "No, I just think Contrail would make an even worse Air Commander than him."

   The harsh laughter of the four Seekers echoed throughout the base.

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories VIII--The Day It Rained

THE DAY IT RAINED

   Timeline: Cycle 9104 / AD 1304 (710 Years Ago)

-

   Rung sighed as he sat down near the jittery red and yellow Autobot that was his patient, who laid on a berth. Picking up a model of the Steelhaven and fiddling with it, he calmly said, "Tell me how it went, Flattop."

   The Autobot's faceplate was filled with anguish. "Oh spark, must I? It was so awful... so many dead... I can't possibly recall it all."

   "Trust me," Rung said soothingly as he readjusted a rear thruster on the model. "It will make you feel better."

   "How can it?" Flattop snapped, his voice stricken with grief. "What I saw was horrible; how could it calm me?" He placed his head in his hands. "You weren't there. You wouldn't understand."

   "I would," Rung said. "Because I went through this with the Duobots and Subsea and the other survivors. Please, all you have to do is tell me how it went... through your eyes."

   Flattop was silent for a moment. Finally, he looked up, though not directly at Rung, and spoke. "I... was under Flame's command. We went to Babu Yar to apprehend the Decepticon commander Gideon. However, the moment we touched ground... it started raining."

   "Natural rain?" Rung asked, though he already knew the answer.

   "No," Flattop murmured, his body shaking. "It was red and burned like Pit when it touched us. We all looked up to see three Seekers- we call them the Rainmakers- pouring large vats of this... this... acid onto us, and we started to disintegrate.

   "Horsepower was the first to go down, being left as nothing but an exoskeleton." Flattop shuddered at the memory. "Fusion covered us while Flame rushed me and the others to shelter. Then... Fusion fell."

   Flattop sat up with a jolt at this recollection but Rung gently pushed him back down. After shuddering violently for a while, the survivor spoke again.

   "The rain stopped once we were in a cave, but we dared not to venture out again. While the Duobots tried to establish communication with Cybertron, Flame checked our wounds and found little damage done by Gideon's Glue."

   "'Gideon's Glue?'" Rung asked.

   Flattop's expression was part-stoic, part-terrified. "Subsea coined that name because, not long after Flame had evaluated us, Chameleon began to dissolve. Turns out the rain had stuck to him, like glue, and was taking its time finishing him off."

   "So that's why you and the others got new bodies shortly after returning."

   Flattop nodded. "Not long after, Shock and Ore were successful in getting through to Cybertron and the Battlestar was sent to rescue us. The rain started again when it landed, but Sky Garry was quick enough to retrieve us and take us back to the ship before it could... do any harm...."

   Rung nodded solemnly. "I can see how this incident could leave a haunting impact on you, but you must know that the deaths of Horsepower, Fusion, and Chameleon were not your fault. There was nothing you could do to stop the 'rain.'"

   Flattop did not respond. Rung raised a worried eyebrow.

   "Flattop?" he said as he stood up. "I know what happened on Babu Yar is hard for you to bear, but as I said, it's not-"

   He suddenly froze as he looked down at his patient. Flattop's optics were dim and a red liquid was oozing down his deactivated face....

*  *  *

   "I'm telling you, sirs! I did flush out all of the mycopropelene!"

   Emirate Xaaron, chairman of the Ethics Committee, frowned as he placed his hands together, staring sternly at Ironfist. "That's not what the reports from Babu Yar are saying. According to Flame, the properties and effects of the 'Gideon's Glue' which rained down there were exactly like the chemical you had created."

   "And destroyed," Ironfist said emphatically. "I destroyed all of the original files and the samples I had created."

   "Then how did the Decepticons get their hands on it?" Trailbreaker asked skeptically.

   Ironfist threw his hands up in the air. "Pit if I know-"

   "Language such as that is not tolerated here," Xaaron said sharply. Then, with a sigh, he said, "However, we can't just go throwing accusations blindly at people."

   "Why not?" Animus asked. "I say the answer's right there. He created the myco-whatever and is the only one who knew the formula. He must've leaked it to the 'Cons!"

   "Even so, Animus, we must follow protocol. I'll ask for a full investigation to be commenced. Until then, everyone is innocent until proven guilty."

   With that, Xaaron turned to Ironfist and said, "You are dismissed."

*  *  *

   "You okay, Skyfall?"

   Moving about nervously in his workplace, the red and white Autobot jumped and whirled around to see his co-worker Atomizer standing outside the open doorway.

   "Huh? Oh, I'm fine," Skyfall said. "Just, uh, hoping Ironfist's meeting with Xaaron and his ilk is going well."

   "It didn't," Ironfist said, walking up from behind Atomizer. As the latter left, the former stepped into Skyfall's workplace, a sullen look on his face.

   Skyfall shifted his feet. "So, uh, did they arrest you for the Babu Yar incident?"

   "Do I have a pair of stasis cuffs on me?" Ironfist retorted. He then sighed. "No, they didn't. But Animus and Trailbreaker seem pretty sure about it having been me that leaked the formula to the 'Cons."

   "That's total scrap metal," Skyfall scoffed. "Why would a good-natured Autobot like you betray to the Decepticons?"

   "I don't know," Ironfist muttered. "Though I'm sure those three would come up with something."

   "Yeah. Well, it's like you- or rather, Fisitron- always say: 'Time you make a stand.'"

   Ironfist stared at him oddly. "I've never said that."

   "Sure he did- or rather, Impactor did in datalog 97 of Wreckers: Declassified."

   Ironfist continued to stare at him before laughing. "You've got me there, pal. Good thing I've got you around to keep my spirits up."

   "Sure is," Skyfall chuckled. "Primus knows where you would be without me."

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories VII--Ghosts

GHOSTS

   Timeline: Cycle 8834 - 980 Years Ago (5 Years after Volume VII)

-

   Deadlock sighed as he paced around in his cell. For the past ten years ever since his capture, he had been transferred from prison to prison, planet to planet. Now he was here on Elba, at the Autobot rehabilitation facility Garrus-9. Although it was more decidedly more comfortable than most prisons he had been to, it was no trip through the Helix Gardens either. 

   Sighing for the dozenth time in five minutes, he plopped himself onto his berth, sitting dejectedly against the wall.

   "Might as well shut yourself into stasis lock, pal," said an inmate from the cell next to his. "These Autobots aren't going to release you out of pity."

   "I'm fully aware of that, thanks," Deadlock snapped. After a moment's silence, he then said, "Why aren't you in stasis lock?'

   "I trust these Autobots about as far as I can throw them," the inmate said. "You never know if they'll decide to execute you while you're sleeping just for the heck of it."

   Deadlock rolled his eyes at the mech's paranoia. "So how do you pass the time then?"

   The other Decepticon paused before saying, "I carve drawings into the wall. You?"

   Deadlock hesitated as well before answering, "I reminisce about my past."

   "Is it an exciting past?"

   Deadlock snorted. "Depends on your definition."

   "Well, if you're looking for ways to pass the time, why don't we exchange stories of ourselves."

   "Why would you care about my stories?"

   "I'm out of space for carvings."

   Deadlock smirked. "All right, fine. I'll humor you. It all started on the streets of Rodion...."

-Twenty-one years ago-

   "You pathetic pieces of scrap."

   He winced as one of the two thugs kicked him again, harder than the last one. He struggled to get back up only to be kicked down again.

   "Honestly, Runamuck, where do these guys come from?"

   "Don't know, don't care." The white and orange one called Runamuck cracked his wrists. "Long as they make good target practice."

   The other thug, who was black and red, snorted out a laugh. "Good point there."

   He punctuated this with another kick and Drift could feel his internal systems starting to fail. He opened his mouth to cry out for help but was cut off as Runamuck grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up from the ground.

   "Say, Runabout," the thug said. "What noise do ya think he'll make if we tear him in half?"

   Runabout chuckled. "Lengthwise or at the waist?"

   "Whichever."

   However, before the two brutes could go through with their next action, a calm voice called from behind them. "Unhand that innocent bot."

   The duo turned to see an old mech standing there, colored in white and gold. Runabout glowered at him.

   "What'cha gonna do about it, old man? The authorities ain't here to cover you skidplate."

   The stranger smirked. "I do not need the authorities for protection."

   Runamuck growled as he released Drift. "We'll see about that after I smash in that smug face of yours!"

   He charged towards the gold mech and threw his fist at his face, which the stranger easily deflected before tripping the thug with his long legs. He then did the same to Runabout as the latter attempted to tackle him. He then easily put both of them out of commission by throwing them into a parked armored transport, knocking them out cold.

   The struggle having ended as quickly as it had begun, the stranger turned to Drift and smiled as he offered him his hand. Drift weakly took it and was gently pulled up to his feet, though he had some difficulty in standing.

   "Thanks," he murmured. "Can't say I've ever met someone who was concerned for my safety."

   The stranger chuckled. "If such people are rare, then you'd better improve on your defensive techniques."

   Drift snorted. "How? I can't join the Seekers 'cause of my alt mode, and the Autotroopers have turned down my application five times already. Hardly anyone will accept me."

   The stranger smiled warmly. "I wouldn't say 'hardly.'"

   Drift gave him an odd look. "What are you-? Wait, who are you again?"

   "I am Sensei Yoketron, Grand Master of the Cyber-Ninja Corps."

-Present-

   "Yoketron... I've heard that name before."

   Deadlock smirked. "I'd be pretty surprised if you hadn't. He was a pretty big deal back in the day; offered a place on the High Council at least twice a year and declined them each time."

   "So he taught the Cyber-Ninja arts?"

   "Yeah, just the basics though," Deadlock said. "It wasn't long after he took me in under his wing that the Great War started. I once again tried to enlist into the Autobot army, but they still counted me as an Empty and thus refused to accept me yet again.

   "So, left with little choice, I hitched a transport due for the neutral territories. It then got attacked by Decepticons and they killed all of the Autobots on board and took non-military bots like me prisoner."

   "And they conscripted you, didn't they? Why?"

   "Because the leader of the raid- a mech called Banzai-Tron- had also been a student of Yoketron and saw potential in me and took me in," Deadlock replied. "I didn't last long under his command, though; got transferred to Turmoil and eventually became his second-in-command. Got my name changed from Drift to Deadlock, too."

   "So you never saw Yoketron again?"

   Deadlock frowned. "I did, actually. One of my first tasks was to assassinate him. I was a pathetic Autobot-at-heart back then, though, so I couldn't bear the though of killing him in person."

   "I see. So what did you do?"

   Deadlock sighed. "I set the dojo on fire."

   "Did you then make sure he was dead?"

   "Yes. I dug through the rubble and found his mutilated body. He was still alive, but his spark was very faint. He looked up at me and... said it wasn't my fault." He put his head in his hands, trying not to shake with the emotional regret he now felt rising up within him. "Then... then he died."

   His fellow inmate was silent. After a few minutes, Deadlock said. "Anyway... that's my story. What about-"

   "All right, that's it!" An Autobot guard came storming up to his cell. "Who the Pit are you talking to? You've been rambling on and on for half a mega-cycle now!"

   Deadlock frowned. "Just having a friendly chat with a fellow inmate."

   "What inmate? You're the only one on this block!"

   Deadlock's eyes widened. "Really? But-"

   "No 'buts'. Just mute it, ya cog!"

   Deadlock fell silent as the guard strode away. Later on, though he knew better than to speak up, he could swear that he heard fingers carving into steel....

-

   Author's note (9/2/2015): The Autobot guard in this story is/was intended to be Rollout.

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories VI--The Many Deaths of Ultra Magnus

THE MANY DEATHS OF ULTRA MAGNUS
Simanzi, Cycle 8830

   "Stabilize him, First Aid! His spark is shrinking by the second!"

   "I'm doing what I can, Fixit!" First Aid cried as attached jumper cables to the shrinking green spark. "Maybe we can jumpstart him if we have a compatible spark."

   "No use," said Ambulon. "I don't think anyone here is a Point One Percenter. And even if there was, it'd be too late."

   Although he refused to admit it aloud, First Aid knew that Ambulon was right. Left with no options, the three medics simply gave up and mournfully watch as their once-friend's spark shrunk down into the size of a pebble before dissipating completely.

   Ultra Magnus was dead.

*  *  *

   "Explain the battle to us."

   Seated before three high-ranking Autobots- Ambassador Crosscut, Chief Justice Tyrest, and General Thunderclash- Rotorstorm found himself unable to adopt the calm persona he always portrayed. Nonetheless, he spoke.

   "It was horrible, sirs. When we got to Simanzi after receiving the distress signal, we found a giant smelting pool in the center of the city. The 'Cons had thousands of civilians poised on the brim, ready to push them in at the slightest provocation. Optimus Prime had us split up and approach the Crucible- that's what they called it- from different sides.

   "I was with Ultra Magnus and Chuffer when we started to approach the Crucible's southwest side. A sniper spotted us and took out Chuffer, forcing Magnus and I to make a shortcut through the Sludge Pits."

   He sighed as he recalled the terrible moment that happened next. "We were five miles away from the Crucible when a Cybernought suddenly emerged right in front of us. It fired a blast of energy from its palm and... Magnus was killed."

   "We haven't received complete confirmation that that is the case," Thunderclash said. "I have faith in the medics that they'll be able to revive him."

   Rotorstorm cocked his head. "Are you sure, sir? I mean... no one could have survived an attack like that."

   "Trust us, Rotorstorm," Tyrest said with a smile. "Ultra Magnus has survived worse."

Clemency, Cycle 8954

   Ultra Magnus braved the storms of Clemency as he led his teams towards the Nightmare Engine. Of course, the storms were most likely a fabrication, taken from his own mind. The others on his team did not seem to be noticing any storm, but were instead reacting to other unseen horrors.

   "Remember what Optimus said!" he called out over the false roll of thunder. "That which is, isn't!"

   "Easy for you to say!" said the Duobot Shock as he swat at an invisible swarm of cyberbees. "These things sting like the real deal!"

   Ignoring him, Ultra Magnus said, "Powerdashers, the Nightmare Engine is nearly in range. I want you to disable it while we distract the 'Cons stationed there."

   "Er, that may be a problem, chief," said the Powerdasher leader Cromar. "Scanners are picking up a Decepticon transport approaching our position."

   Ultra Magnus looked up to indeed see a Decepticon transport hovering over them, flanked by a Seeker squadron. It almost made him wish he had his jet alt mode back to take them on. However, his days as Bolt were over; he was now much, much more.

   The transport's boarding ramp lowered and he grimaced at what it revealed: at least a dozen K-Class Decepticons.

   "Clear the area!" he cried out to the others just as the suicide bombers jumped off of the transport and converted into their bomb forms. Looking up again, Ultra Magnus realized that one of the K-Class 'Cons had his own name crudely painted on the bomb's shell.

   It was the last thing he saw before the suicide bomber made contact.

Hell's Point, Cycle 9099

   "Ultra Magnus!"

   Standing near the bow of the Decepticons' experimental war cruiser that now threatened Cybertron, Ultra Magnus pummeled down two Vehicon troopers before turning to face the five imposing Decepticons standing before him: Heretech, Sixshot, Overlord, Black Shadow, and Killmaster. The Warriors Elite.

   A normal Autobot would have trembled in fear in their presence. But Ultra Magnus was not a normal Autobot, and he was definitely not trembling. In fact... he was smiling.

   Heretech- the unofficial leader of the Warriors Elite- narrowed his eyes a him. "What have you got to smile about? This ship is about to deploy its wormhole generator and you're smiling. Mind explaining why?"

   Ultra Magnus tapped his chin. "Hmm. Perhaps because I'm standing in front of this cruiser's exhaust vent. To shoot at me, and thus it, could possible destroy the cruiser itself. I highly doubt Megatron would give you permission to perform such an act."

   "Would he?"

   The voice was not Heretech's or Overlord's or any of other Warriors Elite. No, it was the unmistakable voice of Megatron himself... and it was coming from the gun which Heretech now held at his forehead.

   Seconds before his death, the Autobot once known as Datum, realized that, for the first and last time, a strategy of his had failed.

Cybertron, Cycle 9614

   Minimus Ambus sighed as he stacked up the chairs in The Circle, closing down the joint for the night. With the war getting worse each year, business had become slow. Fewer and fewer patrons walked through the doors and even those who did come only stayed long enough to refuel.

   He stared out the window to observe the darkened streets of the city. Every day, whenever he went to recharge, he dreamed about being on the front-lines, fighting alongside the likes of Grimlock, Impactor, or the immortal Ultra Magnus.

   "Immortal" was perhaps an exaggeration, but he had heard plenty of tales from patrons, about how Ultra Magnus survived an encounter with a Cybernought, or with the Warriors Elite, or even the Fast-Folding Sun. He had heard the stories frequently enough to make him believe them.

   Ambus heard the sound of the door opening, but did not turn to face the newcomer. "Sorry, pal," he said. "We're closed. Come back tomorrow."

   "I came here knowing that you'd be off work."

   Ambus turned around to face the arrival... and froze. Standing before him was Chief Justice Tyrest.

   A warm smile crossed the judge's face. "Minimus Ambus, I have an offer for you."

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories V--Seeds of an Empire

SEEDS OF AN EMPIRE

   Timeline: 990 Years Ago (shortly after Volume VI)

-

   The one and former ruler of the Decepticon Empire, trapped in the body of a monster, hovered in the middle of outer space. Unable to move or speak, he secluded himself to his thoughts, plotting revenge against the one he had thought like a son and reminiscing about days long since past.

   Trannis, the once and former emperor, dreamed of times he longed to live again.

-Four thousand years ago-

   "'Golden Age,' my afterburner," the blue and maroon miner growled as his pickaxe struck the rocks of Kaon's subterranean levels. "I wouldn't call a world run by slavery exactly golden."

   "You hit the nail on the head, kid," said a green and black one. "It's been like this for forever and I doubt it's gonna change anytime soon."

   D-16 ignored their conversation as he worked away. It was the same discussion he had been hearing for the past nine centuries. Every time a new guy came in, the older ones filled them in why they were working and why they would never stop. Thanks to the caste system established by Nominus Prime, they were chained to Kaon's mines for the rest of their lives.

   "You'd think a guy called Guardian Prime would fix it," said a red and tan mech.

   D-67, the green and black one, snorted. "Sure, maybe in Iacon and the Tri-Torus States. But forget about here and the rest of the Badlands. To them, we're just-"

   The mines fell silent when a violet glow suddenly illuminated them. All heads turned to D-16, who stood over the ore he had just uncovered.

   "What the Pit is that?" D-91 asked.

   "Kinda looks like energon except... darker," MD-03 murmured.

   "Hey, what's the holdup?"

   The miners turned to see their manager, a black and purple mech called Backbite, push his way through to the ore. All of the miners hastily moved to get out of his way.

   All save for D-16.

   Upon reaching him, Backbite scowled. "Know your place, Genericon. Get out of my way."

   D-16 stared at him for a long moment before stepping aside. Backbite's eyes widened upon seeing the glowing ore.

   "By the AllSpark," he murmured. "What is this?"

   As he moved to touch it, D-16 suddenly raised his pickaxe and drove it into the manager's back. Backbite screamed as the rogue miner dragged the axe's blade down his spine. D-16 then pulled the tool out and swiftly decapitated the manager.

   As Backbite's head rolled to the ground and alarms began to blare out, D-16 turned to his fellow miners and bellowed, "The time has come, my brothers! For too long have we been restrained by this unjust law! Today, we take arms and defy our so-called masters! Who's with me?"

   The roar of the gathered miners was louder than the alarmed cries of the arriving Autotroopers.

   D-16 grinned. "Then let us begin."

*  *  *

   "This better be worth my time, Delta."

   Delta Magnus frowned as he walked into Guardian Prime's office. "I'm afraid it it, sir."

   The Autobot leader looked up from his work, optics narrowed. "Out with it, then."

   "An uprising of sorts has broken out in Kaon. The miners have executed their managers and are now rioting in the streets."

   "Is that all? Can't the Autotroopers contain it?"

   Delta Magnus shook his head. "Dozens of them have been slayed already. Perhaps I should dispatch the Triorian Guard?"

   "Handle the situation however you see fit," Guardian said gruffly. "I doubt this revolt will last longer than a day."

*  *  *

   "Sector Seven is clear," the Overcharge trooper reported to its superior. "That should be all of the rebels."

   The leader of the Triorian Guard unit, a purple and tan mech of the same body-type as the Overcharge, smirked as he regarded the captured miners. "Thought you could revolt that easily, eh? Sure, those Autotroopers aren't that hot in a fight, but us Triple Changers? You'd have to be suicidal to go against us."

   Then, with a sneer, he said, "Whose bright idea was this revolt, anyway?"

   None of the miners responded. At the commander's gesture, one of the Overcharge troopers raised its null gladius sword and drove it into a miner's spark, killing him.

   "Only a revolt leader would care about his pals," the commander grunted. "Unless you truly are that heartless of a bot, then we're going to see some-"

   "I started the revolt," D-16 spoke out.

   The commander smirked as he made his way towards him. "And what do they call you, ya pile of slag?"

   D-16 did not answer, refusing to identify with his mundane designation.

   The Triple Changer pressed the barrel of his rifle against D-16's head. "Answer me or you'll go down in history as a nameless martyr."

   "My name is Trannis."

   The commander's optics blinked and then he laughed. "Oh, that's rich. Giving yourself a proper name... if it's gonna be anything, it's gonna be Scrapheap."

   Turning to his lieutenant, the commander said, "Have these jokers transported to Pyrovar. If they get the rebellious urge again, they won't have much to take over there."

   The lieutenant nodded and barked at the Overcharge troopers to get to work. Despite the situation, D-16- newly-identified as Trannis- felt a grin creep onto his face. This was sure to be merely the seeds of what was to come....

-Present-

   And he had been right. Upon arrival on Pyrovar, Trannis and his new-found followers executed their Overcharge captors and laid out the foundations of what would become the Decepticon Empire.

   The name "Decepticon" itself was derived from Trannis' plan to obtain resources for their empire from the Autobots and other worlds via deceit. The last and greatest deception culminated with the assassination of Guardian Prime and thus the start of the Great War.

   First Great War, Trannis bitterly reminded himself. He had no doubt that Megatron was attempting to repeat history by murdering Sentinel Prime and declaring another war against the Autobots. Having already named himself after one of the Thirteen, he was not much surprised.

   Now all he could do was bide his time and wait. One day, he would have his revenge against Megatron and be able to reclaim the Decepticon throne for himself. Until then, he had only his memories to keep himself occupied....

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories IV--Hunters

HUNTERS

   Timeline: 990 Years Ago (shortly before Volume IV)

-

   "Prisoner transfer from Garrus-9, eh?"

   "Yeah," the Autobot officer Stungun muttered. "Calls himself Lockdown. He's the guy who tried to kill Sentinel Prime ten years ago."

   "A decade, huh?" Depth Charge smirked at the prisoner, a tall, green and black mech. "Hope you're still not expecting your Decepticon pals to free ya after all these years."

   Lockdown snorted. "Please. They aren't my pals. I was only with them for the credits."

   "Yeah, whatever." Depth Charge jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Take him away."

   Stungun nodded and took Lockdown into a prison block. All the way down the corridor, fists rattled the bars of their cell door, screaming loud enough to shatter glass. Lockdown was mildly amazed that Stungun didn't turn down his audio receptors. 

   Instead, the dark blue Autobot simply smirked and said, "Welcome to Colony Omicron. Hope you enjoy it, 'cause you'd be hard pressed to find any better."

   Lockdown scowled. They all look the same anyway.

*  *  *

   "So, what are you in for?"

   Lockdown lifted his gaze from the ground to stare at his cellmate. Colored in gray and blue, he wore a body-type similar to Lockdown's, but without the upgrades and modifications he had given himself.

   "Attempted assassination," Lockdown muttered. "You?"

   "Robbery," the other Decepticon spat. "If the folks at Protihex valued their stuff so much, then they shouldn't put 'em up for display."

   Lockdown smirked. "Why would they boot a petty robber all the way to a satellite colony?"

   A nasty scowl crossed the mech's face. "Who are you calling petty? At least I didn't try something stupid like assassination."

   "I was hired to do it."

   "You some kind of bounty hunter?"

   "One of the best. You can call me Lockdown."

   The Decepticon's eyes widened. "Wait a sec... you mean the one and only Lockdown? How the Pit did I not recognize you?"

   "I tend to spice up my appearance from time to time," Lockdown said. "Have we met?"

   "Briefly. You were chasing down some Rallybot and I offered to help. You declined by launching a sleep-net at me."

   "I vaguely recall that. What do they call you?"

   "Axer," the mech said, smirking. "Not that fitting anymore now that they took my axe."

   "You a wannabe bounty hunter?"

   "Yeah, kind of." Axer rubbed the back of his neck. "I was hoping to one day be your protege of sorts."

   Lockdown grunted. "Not much use in that now, is there?"

   "So, I hear you guys are in a rut, yes?"

   Lockdown and Axer turned at the sound of the gruff voice. In the cell across from theirs was a robot being- not Cybertronian, from what Lockdown could tell- with a horned, almost skull-like face, blue and gold armor covering his silver exterior, and a long, flowing red cape.

   "Who the heck are you?" Axer asked.

   "The name's Death's Head," the alien replied. "Heard of me, yes?"

   "Can't say I have," Lockdown muttered. "What's an alien like you doing in a Cybertronian prison?"

   Death's Head smirked. "Let's just say I violated some law, yes? Something about a Tyrest Accord. Dealing in illegal munitions is risky business, right?"

   "Are you a bounty hunter, too?" Axer asked.

   "Freelance Peacekeeping Agent," the alien robot sharply corrected. "Anyway, I think I've got an escape plan. Might need some help, yes?"

   "What do you need?" Lockdown asked.

   "To take me out to lunch."

*  *  *

   Colony Omicron's canteen was incredibly small, made to only fit twelve bots at once, six of those being Autobot guards. The other six were selected prisoners who stood at a counter to get their fuel, and had only five minutes to do so.

   As a burly Autobot set out the oil cans, Lockdown and Axer took theirs while Death's Head looked up at the server.

   "I prefer unleaded oil, yes?" the non-bounty hunter said. "Much appreciate unleaded."

   The Autobot snorted. "Too bad. What you see is all you're getting."

   "Oh well." Acting completely casual, Death's Head bumped the oil can over the counter, spilling its contents onto the floor. "Oops. Clumsy me, yes?"

   "Aw, come on!" one of the guards snapped, storming over to him. "My break's in six cycles!"

   "Then allow me to pass the time, eh?"

   The tip of Death's Head right index finger suddenly flipped up, revealing a lighter. Before any of the guards could react, the non-bounty hunter touched the spilled oil with it, setting the floor, as well as the whole canteen, aflame.

   As the Autobot scurried to put out the fire, Death's Head snatched a blaster cannon from one of them, aimed it at the wall, and fired, creating a huge hole. As the other prisoners rushed to it to escape, Death's Head turned to Lockdown and Axer, grinning.

   "Be seeing you again, yes?"

   With that, the alien robot charged out the hole and vanished into the darkness of space. Lockdown and Axer followed him and, once they were outside, the former pressed a control on his arm, sending out a signal to his starship, which dropped out of hyperspace before them.

   Axer blinked as they began to approach the dark red IG-2000 vessel. "Why didn't you do that in the first place?"

   "Autobot prisons have shields blocking out remote signals," Lockdown said, before glancing at Axer. "Said you wanted to be my protege, right?"

   The Decepticon nodded. "If it's all the same to you, yes."

   The bounty hunter smirked. "Then stick with me and I'll show you the ropes."

   With that, the newly-formed bounty hunting duo boarded the IG-2000. Lockdown had never been very fond of the ship- at least not enough to give it a name- but as he sat down at its controls, he felt more at home than he had at Omicron and Garrus-9.

   "What do you call this beauty?" Axer said as he regarded the ship's interior.

   It only took a brief moment for Lockdown to come up with a name. "How about Death's Head?"

Transformers Regenerated: War Stories III--Exodus

EDITED 8/4/2016 Changed Burnrate to Burn Out since Fun Pub stole my idea of making Diaclone Black Skids into a female Autobot. >:(

EXODUS

   Timeline: 995 Years Ago (5 Years after Volume III (and before IV))

-

   The meeting had not gone well; that much Ultra Magnus could tell as Zeta Prime stormed out of the room, a furious look on his face. As Ultra Magnus began to walk alongside the blue and gold Prime, he carefully said, "How did it go?"

   "They're leaving," was all Zeta said, his bitter tone practically telling Magnus to not press the matter further.

   For the past few months, several Autobots had begun to lose faith in the cause, being horrified by the effects of the war and being disappointed in Zeta Prime's failure to fix things. While Ultra Magnus certainly did not want these Autobots to leave, he could see how Zeta's actions could convince them to go through with their plans of desertion.

   "So that's the Masterforce Warriors gone," Magnus muttered. "Are you going to meet with Dai Atlas next?"

   "Should I even bother at this point?" Zeta Prime snapped, whirling to face him. "The results are going to be the same as with Zetca and Metalhawk, and the rest. Should I just let them all go?"

   Ultra Magnus did not know how to respond and Zeta did not give him a chance to, already striding down the corridor too fast for him to catch up.

*  *  *

   "You're leaving?"

   Fixer sighed as she nursed her glass of energon. She had been expecting this exact response and was prepared to answer it.

   "Yes, Burn Out, I'm leaving Cybertron... and the Autobots."

   The black and red fembot sitting across from her wore an expression that almost made her regret her decision. "But why? I never had you pinned down as a quitter."

   "I'm not quitting," Fixer said sternly. "It's just... I get a sick feeling whenever injured bots are dragged into the base. I didn't even know what some parts- like a motor relay- looked like until the Triggerbots were brought in from Stanix."

   Burn Out frowned. "Well, if you're that sure about leaving, I suppose I can't stop you. When are you leaving and where are you going?"

   "In two solar cycles, on board the Peaceful Resolution." Fixer then shrugged. "As for where to, who knows. Wherever Primus guides us, I suppose."

*  *  *

   "I implore you to reconsider, Dai Atlas."

   The old Autobot glowered at Zeta Prime as he sat across from him. "I had made up my mind the very day this war was declared. I only waited five years to see if you truly deserved the title of Prime."

   A nasty scowl crossed Zeta's golden face. "Are you saying that I am unworthy of it?"

   "If you wish to jump to that conclusion, then yes. You continue to use up Cybertron's resources in response to the Decepticons' attacks, instead of seeking peaceful negotiations or simply letting Cybertron fall to them while we seek haven elsewhere."

   Zeta's optics flared. "Because, Dai Atlas, unlike you, I am not a coward. I refuse to let Cybertron fall and I know that there is no peace to be found in negotiations."

   Dai Atlas glared at him. "Of course not. Your actions have already angered the Decepticons enough."

   Zeta Prime's hands gripped his end of the table. His voice tight with fury, he growled, "Get out of my sight, you coward."

   The former High Councilor's eyes met his and a silent exchange of derision passed between them before Dai Atlas finally got up to leave, his last words being, "Time rust you."

*  *  *

   "Why are you staying?"

   It was a simple enough question; one born from curiosity rather than with the accusatory tones he had heard from others. The fact that it was his most trusted confidant made him all the more sure of this.

   "Because, Beta Maxx, I have faith," Alpha Trion said to his Mini-Con companion. "Perhaps not in Zeta Prime himself, but in the Autobot cause in general. I have faith that, one day, whether it'll be tomorrow or a millennia from now, we'll get through this war, just as we have in the past."

   Standing on his floating hoverscooter, Beta Maxx raised a skeptic eyebrow. "Are you sure it's not because of something else?"

   Alpha Trion's face was expressionless. "Whatever makes you say that?"

   Beta Maxx shrugged. "I don't know, it's just... that seemed like a generic response. But that's just me. Micronus knows that we Mini-Cons will never understand you bigger bots."

   The old historian smiled as his companion flew back to his studies. The truth was, his ever-observant apprentice was right; he had another reason for staying on Cybertron. It was the same reason why he had stayed under Galactus Prime's tyranny and why he had stayed behind on Nova's expedition, all against his better judgment. 

   It was Vector Sigma. The moment he was brought online by the ancient super-computer, he had felt drawn to it, felt as if it were his duty to protect it. And thus he had vowed to do just that, no matter what happened.

   Only he knew of this secret vow. Not Beta Maxx, not any of the Primes, not even his best and closest friends. For if anyone knew, they would no doubt target him as a way to get to Vector Sigma. And so he said nothing, lest he risk the probability of an apocalypse.

*  *  *

   Zetca and the Masterforce Warriors, destined for Master.

   Dai Atlas and the Circle of Light, destined for Theophany.

   Metalhawk and his followers, destined for Archon.

    Ultra Magnus' face fell as he went further down the list. So many people vital to the Autobot cause had left; without them, they would be to closer to defeat than ever. If these deserters had thought an exodus such as this would actually improve the war effort, they were wrong.

   Instead, they had left nothing but a dark stain on Cybertronian history.

   A Dark Epoch.