Star Wars Endgame: Episode VI, Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

    Lezarn's Lucrative Dishes was not the most popular of diners on Phaeda, what with its owner-- and head chef-- firing insults to his customers. But as long as the food was still edible, that was all the man-in-a-poncho cared about.

    As he sat at the counter, Lezarn himself sneered at him from the kitchen. "What will it be, flabby one?"

    "The usual, Lezarn."

    The Jenet snorted. "Fried dewback. The tastes of humans leave a lot to be desired."

    The man ignored him as he gave a cursory look around the diner. When his eyes fell on a girl about nineteen approaching him, he looked away, tipping his hat further to hide his face.

    As she took a seat at the counter next o his, the girl said, "What's your name?"

    "Jaster Mereel," he muttered.

    "I don't think so. That guy's been dead for, what, a hundred years? Ninety?"

    He looked up at her and noticed for the first time that she was wearing Mandalorian armor. "You are Mando'ade?" 

    She nodded. "Yup. And you're Mand'alor. We met once, kinda. You know my father, Orde Kaburn, right?"

    "Name sounds familiar."

    "Well, I'm his daughter Vessin. But most people call me Ves."

    "Nice to meet you," he murmured as a Jenet waitress provided him with his meal.

    "Sooo," Ves said casually, "what are you doing here?"

    "None of your business."

    "Aw, come on! You can trust me!"

    "And I should why?"

    "I could help you."

    The man regarded her coolly. "Only if the name Sintas Vel means anything to you."

    She gave him a blank look.

    "Thought not." With that, he returned to his meal and paid Ves no further attention. To his relief, she got out of her seat and walked back to her booth.

*  *  *

    "Well?" Bedo said expectantly as Ves returned to their booth. "What did you find out from him?"

    "That he's looking for someone called Sintas Vel."

    Keera's jaw dropped. "Did you just say Sintas Vel?"

    "Do you know her?"

    The Farghul scoffed. "How could anyone not? Far Away Galaxy named her the Most Beautiful Bounty Hunter of All Time-- until Kannen Doom took her spot, of course."

    "Sorry, but not everyone reads Far Away Galaxy," Ace said pointedly.

    "And those of us who do don't find some of those so-called 'Beautiful People' at all attractive," Bedo said. "I remember one centerfold being a Sy Myrthian. Not. A pretty. Sight."

    Keera rested her chin on one hand. "The only thing is... Sintas Vel has been presumed dead for thirty-nine years. Why would Boba Fett-- of all people-- be looking for her?"

    "Who cares?" Kyla said dismissively. "None of our business."

    The crew sat in silence as they finished their meals. When they were done and got up to leave, they saw that Fett was already gone, leaving behind an empty plate and a credi-chip. The diner's owner was standing at the counter, fuming.

    "That sack of Ranat dung! That meal cost 10.58 credits and he paid 11.00! Doesn't he know anything about consistency?!"

*  *  *

    Even though Kadar had never been to Kamino in his life, he knew one thing about it: it always rained.

    That was true, as by the time he had reached to entrance to Tipoca City's central building, his armor was glistening with drops of rain. He was eventually greeted by a tall male Kaminoan, dressed in black and white. He regarded the bounty hunter carefully with almond-shaped eyes.

    "If you are here for the Prime Minister, then I'm afraid I cannot help you."

    "I am here for Boba Fett."

    The Kaminoan blinked. "Why would he be here?"

    "This used to be his home, wasn't it? Surely he visits here from time to time."

    The long-necked alien shook his head. "Hardly anyone but illicit individuals visit Kamino. We have become a shadow of our former self ever since the Empire collapsed."

    "When was the last time he visited?"

    The Kaminoan mulled over the question for a moment before saying, "Just last month, actually. He was looking for Taun We."

    "What for?"

    "Haven't a clue. I directed him to Vohai; Taun We's been working there for Arkanian Micro-technologies for the past few decades."

    With this information, Kadar departed from Kamino and made a venture to Vohai. After dealing with stubborn officials, he eventually managed to make a quick visit to Arkanian Microtechnologies.

    Upon his arrival, Kadar was directed to Taun We's lab. There, he found the female Kaminoan surrounded by large vats, hunched over a desk. Her white skin was sagged and her entire body frail; it was a wonder that she was still breathing.

    "Make it quick," Taun We said to the ex-Mandalorian, her voice hoarse. "I have work to do."

    "I was told that Boba Fett had visited you," Kadar said.

    "What does it matter to you?"

    "I'm the one asking the questions," Kadar retorted. "What did he want from you?"

    Taun We hung her head, still not turning to look at the bounty hunter. "Information."

    "I don't have all day. What kind of information?"

    The Kaminoan spun to face him, her sunken black eyes brimming with tears. "He's dying. Bo... Boba is dying."

    Kadar was taken aback by this revelation. "He is?"

    Taun We nodded. "Clone degradation succumbs to all clones, even unmodified ones like him. It's a miracle he's still alive today. But he doesn't have much longer."

    "Did you give him what he needed? To cure this affliction?"

    "No. Only Ko Sai knew, having been Chief Scientist at the time, and she is long gone."

    "Do you know where Fett is now?"

    "He's gone to Phaeda, I believe," Taun We replied. "Said something about tying up loose ends."

    "I see." Kadar nodded to the Kaminoan. "Thank you for your cooperation."

    As he started to leave the facility, a dozen questions ran through his head, not the least of which being: Was he actually being sent to assassinate Boba Fett... or to euthanize him?

Transformers Regenerated: Origins - Sound and Fury

SOUND AND FURY

I. Soundwaves

    The first thing he remembered seeing were street lights. He had no idea where he was, how he had gotten here, or why. All he knew was that he could hear everything: from the roar of jets shooting through the sky to conversations murmured in private. More than that, he could hear the thoughts of those who walked right past him, apathetic to his situation.

    --worthless beggar--

    --good for nothing--

    --what use are they--

    He clutched his head. The sound waves were too numerous for him to handle. He could not take it. Curling into a fetal position, he sat there for a long time.

II. Ravage

    He was awakened by something nudging into his arm. He sat up to see a black cybercat, which blended into the night, its red optical sensors glowing at him. With the feline were two avian creatures, both regarding him in curiosity.

    "R-Ravage," he said to the feline. "Your name... it's Ravage."

    The cybercat tilted its head and did something unexpected; it spoke. "How do you know? I hadn't even said anything."

    "Your mind... I can read it. Your friends... they're Laserbeak and... Buzzsaw."

    Ravage exchanged glances with his two companions before saying, "Right. And you are?"

    He did not hear the question; instead, he started murmuring to himself. "The sound waves...."

    "Soundwave? Nice name." Ravage stepped closer to him. "You know... I can empathize with what your going through. I have a unique ability myself; I can smell anything for several miles. Took years to master it."

    Soundwave tilted his head. "Could you... help me?"

    Ravage stared at him before swaying his head in a nod. "Sure. From one outlier to another."

III. Mute

    A few weeks after meeting Ravage, he was attacked by a gang of thugs. They had beaten him up and tossed him about, laughing as they did. When they were finished, they saw that he had no money or valuable possessions to rob him of. So they tore out his vocal processor and left him for dead.

    Had it not been for Ravage and the others' efforts to repair him, he would have surely died. He owed his life to them, to their selflessness and loyalty.

    But he could not voice his gratitude. All he could do was vow to himself that he would one day return the favor.

IV. Haven

    Soundwave had heard of the Jhiaxian Academy of Advanced Technology and knew it to be a haven for outliers like himself. Nonetheless, he was amazed to see the many Cybertronians that, much like himself, had unique powers not tied to their alt mode.

    He watched each one as they practiced their abilities: Trailbreaker with his forcefields, Skywarp with his teleportation abilities... he could only hope that he could learn to master his own powers like they had.

    Either way, he knew that he would be safe here.

V. Ratbat

    When Soundwave first met Councilor Ratbat, he instantly hated him.

    Armored in reflective violet and black plating, with gold accents, Ratbat wore a charming smile on his visage, but Soundwave knew it was a facade. He had read the councilor's thoughts and saw nothing but ruthless greed and ambition.

    When Ratbat arrived at the academy, Shockwave greeted him like an old, trusted colleague, but Soundwave knew it was a mere formality to conceal the animosity they held for each other.

    "So this is the one you were talking about?" Ratbat asked his rival, gesturing at Soundwave.

    "Yes," Shockwave said. "Soundwave here is very adept in stealth and guile, and can 'read' people very well."

    Ratbat scratched his chin, visible intrigued. "Interesting. Does he have any tricks?"

    Shockwave smiled. "As a matter of face, yes. Show him, Soundwave."

    Soundwave nodded and spoke with the new, monotonic vocabulator Shockwave had installed into him. "Ravage, Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, eject. Operation: Demonstration."

    The window-shaped panel on his chest lowered and three data discs shot out, converting into three different creatures. Ravage stood menacingly at his feet while Laserbeak and Buzzsaw perched on his arm and shoulder, respectively.

    Ratbat smirked. "Impressive. I do believe you're the right person for the job, Soundwave."

    Soundwave bowed slightly. "I live to serve you, Councilor Ratbat."

VI. Injured

    "Ah, there you are, Soundwave," Ratbat said as he entered his servant's quarters. "You hardly ever visit your quarters, so I didn't think to search for you here."

    Soundwave did not respond, too engrossed with a more pressing matter.

    "Soundwave?" Ratbat tapped him on the shoulder. "Are you all right?"

    "Ravage is not," Soundwave said in his typical monotone. "He has been injured."

    Ratbat scoffed in derision. "Such a shame. I'll find you a new pet."

    Soundwave tensed. "Not necessary. He is still alive."

    "But what good is it if it's too hurt to do anything? Just throw it away and get a new one."

    Moving without thinking, Soundwave spun around to face the councilor, ire glinting in his red visor. "Negative. I can fix him."

    Ratbat sneered. "Why do you spare these pitiful creatures any compassion? They're disposable class; expendable slaves made to do our bidding until they're no longer of use to us."

    Soundwave's hands rolled into fists; it took every bit of his will to not bash the councilor's face with them. "I can fix him."

    Ratbat snorted. "You have until tomorrow to do that, or I will have to dispose of it myself."

    With that, he strode away. Soundwave continued to glare at him as he went, silently vowing to himself that this was far from over.

VII. Retribution

    Ratbat stood at the window of his office, watching as Autobots and Decepticons fought down below. This was merely the beginning of the Decepticons reemergence; at this very moment, Trannis' protege was preparing to assassinate Sentinel Prime.

    The battle did not last long, as Soundwave expected. The Devastator Winds created by the Constructicons' generator were no doubt approaching the battlefield by now.

    Clueless as always, Ratbat said, "What's going on? Why are they running?"

    "Councilor, Devastator Winds detected," Soundwave said. "Approaching Tyger Pax at eighty miles per hour."

    Ratbat tensed and Soundwave could instantly read the terror and regret in his mind. He most likely did not expect the Decepticons to take things this far.

    "Then we had better get a move on," the councilor said. "Prepare my shuttle."

    Soundwave knew that this was his opportunity, and he seized it. "The shuttle will not be able to take off in time. I suggest we take an alternate escape route."

    Ratbat turned to him, eyebrows raised. "And what would that be?"

    "First of all, adjustments must be made. Laserbeak, Ravage, eject. Operation: Assimilation."

    His two pets shot out of his chest and began to surround the councilor, malicious hunger gleaming in their optics.

    "What is the meaning of this?" Ratbat demanded. "Are you threatening me?"

    "Negative. I am protecting you."

    At their master's beckoning, Ravage and Laserbeak lunged at Ratbat and began to tear at him, ripping him apart. Before long, they had torn open a hole in the councilor's chest, at which point Soundwave signaled them to stop. He then walked over to Ratbat's form and extracted his spark from it. At the same time, a violet-shaded data disc launched from Soundwave's chest and ended up in his other hand.

    Let us see how you enjoy being "disposable," Soundwave thought as he opened a port for Ratbat's spark in the disc.

VIII. Megatron

    The new leader of the Decepticons seated himself comfortable on the throne at New Kaon. It wasn't long ago that Soundwave had bore witness to him overthrowing Trannis. Such a feat proved that this Megatron person was someone to be reckoned with.

    Reading the ex-Autobot's thoughts, Soundwave knew that someone would have to keep an eye on him, lest he let his ambition get the best of him. Soundwave would be that person, and Megatron would know that he was being watched.

    After all, what was a ruler without a shadow?

Star Wars Endgame: Episode VI, Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

    The clone of Kyle Katarn, who had since identified himself as Runner, led Jaden, Taana, and Natia through a maze of corridors, alarms blaring all around them. Despite this, Jaden noted that no stormtrooper had come to confront them yet.

    As if reading his mind-- which he might as well have been-- Runner said, "Two-Blade and Hunter have armor-men under control. Ship is waiting outside."

    "We can't leave without Senator Y'arn and the others," Taana said. "Do you know where they are?"

    "No," Runner replied. "No time to save them. We must leave."

    The Togruta Jedi Master narrowed her eyes. "The man you are a clone of would never abandon anyone."

    Runner sneered. "Then I must be an improvement. If you wish to rescue them, do as you may. We came here only for Iteration."

    Jaden glared at him. "My name is Jaden Korr, I'll have you know, and I'm not leaving without them either."

    Runner stared at him incredulously and looked as if he was going to protest but was cut off by a sharp, emotionless voice.

    "None of you are going anywhere."

    The clone and the three Jedi turned to see three Imperial Knights standing down the corridor. The one who had spoken, a young man with curly black hair, stepped froward.

    "I am Abrax Mal, son of Tares. If you wish to live, then you will come quietly with us."

    "And if we don't?" Natia said scornfully.

    Abrax shrugged. "Then you die."

    Before either of the Jedi could act, Runner let out a horrible cry before charging towards the Imperial Knights, suddenly igniting a lightsaber. The moment he reached the trio, one of the Knights-- a dark-haired woman-- activated her own blade and swiftly cut down the clone. As the Jedi stared in shock at this merciless act, Abrax smiled mirthlessly.

    "I'm sure you see the honesty behind our threat."

    "Clearly," Jaden muttered as he and the others broke into a run.

*  *  *

    The news had just broken out on the HoloNet: the negotiations were finished and the Alliance had succumbed to the Imperial Remnant's demands.

    Disregarding the repercussions these results would no doubt have on the galaxy, Admiral Kre'fey gave the order: "Jam their sensors and send Rancor Squad down to retrieve the hostages."

    In moments, an Alliance shuttle was heading down towards Bastion. Only time would tell whether it would ever return.

*  *  *

    The three Jedi navigated the Imperial Citadel, taking multiple turbolifts to all the detention blocks, in search of Senator Y'arn and the other prisoners. Upon reaching their seventh stop, they found a squad of stormtroopers awaiting them.

    "Three Jedi without their lightsabers," the lead trooper said snidely. "What good can they do?"

    "You'll find out we're full of surprises." Jaden reached out with the Force and sent the stormtroopers flying into the wall. With them momentarily in a daze, the Jedi moved swiftly down the corridor, scanning the cells with the Force.

    Eventually, Natia stopped before a cell door and opened it, revealing Senator Y'arn and Captain Yusan. She was about to speak to them when she realized that their eyes were unblinking, their faces devoid of life.

    Seeing the grim sight for herself, Taana sucked in her breath. "Dead. Why would they do this?"

    "Because your Alliance has left us no choice."

    The Jedi followed the voice to a light-haired man standing at the end of the hallway, sporting Imperial Knight armor. Jaden recognized him as Scorpius, their captor.

    Natia spun to face him, furious. "What are you talking about?"

    Scorpius smirked. "When an Alliance cruiser was found in Bastion's orbit, Moff Teron was... not happy, to say the least. Thus, he ordered the prisoners' execution, so there would be no hostages for the Alliance to retrieve and thus no reason for them to be here."

    A silver lightsaber blade appeared in his hand. "It would seem that my work is unfinished, however."

    Jaden glowered at him. "What is the meaning of all this? The Remnant has been peaceful with the Alliance for over a decade. Why do you pick now to betray their trust?"

    Scorpius' gray eyes flashed yellow and dread began to creep over Jaden. "Let us just say that higher powers than your government are at work here."

    "The Sith," Natia spat.

    "You're a bright young lady, aren't you?" Scorpius said coldly. "Anyway, whether you know of us or not is irrelevant. It shall go with you to the--"

    The Imperial Knight was cut off by the ceiling falling right on top of him. Dropping down onto the pile of rubble was a male Shistavanen in Alliance trooper armor, accompanied by a female Sullustan. They looked down at their handiwork before giving each other a high-five.

    "I guess explosives and sensitive ears go together well," the wolfman growled.

    "What was that?" the Sullustan said. "My ears are still ringing."

    Jaden smiled at the two troopers, recognizing them. "Sirul, Arila. Nice timely entrance there."

    Sirul snorted. "You're welcome. Now let's get out of here before his friends come."

    "Sound idea."

*  *  *

    "Do you mean to tell me that an Alliance shuttle was able to pass right by our sensors without us knowing?!"

    "Our sensors must have been jammed, sir," the young officer replied. "Otherwise, they would have picked it up."

    Moff Teron ran a hand through his hair and turned to the other Moffs expectantly. To his surprise, they didn't look the slightest bit distraught.

    "Let them go," said Moff Sarreti. "We've got what we wanted from the deal. Now we await further orders."

    Teron huffed. "Very well. I take it we shall be... standing in for Verradun for the time being?"

    "For now, yes," Lecersen said with a grin that unsettled Teron. "In time, however, we may find need of a new Emperor."

Transformers Regenerated: Origins - Logical Conclusion

EDITED 9/5/2016 Working on slimming the timeline. Some needed alterations may be made here.

LOGICAL CONCLUSION

I. The Student

    "How is my favorite student doing today?"

    Shockwave looked up from his energon rations to see a winged orange mech approaching him. Smiling, he said, "Quite well, Jhiaxus. And you?"

    Jhiaxus snorted. "Not so well; my processors been aching ever since Azimuth presented me with her theory about why time seems to pass quicker for us than the rest of the galaxy. She was making sense until she brought up quantum theories and words even I've never heard of."

    "That's Azimuth for you. Never use six words when thirteen thousand will do."

    Jhiaxus laughed at that. "Very true. Now then, what have you been working on?"

    "Trying to see if Synthetic Energon has any effect on normal energon ratio--"

    The tray which his meal had been on suddenly erupted into flames.

    "Ah. I suppose it does."

II. The Prophecy

    "...In short, I believe Nova Prime's Expansion program will result in a shortage of energon and Cybertron may eventually become unable to support our race." Shockwave looked at Jhiaxus expectantly as he finished presenting his theory.

    The old Seeker scratched his chin before saying, "This is indeed worrisome. Luckily, Prime is planning on leading an expedition, more expansive than any others in the past. Perhaps he will find more energon then."

    Shockwave frowned. "And if not?"

    Jhiaxus went silent again, considering the question. "There is a prophecy--"

    "We're scientists, teacher. Prophecies mean nothing to us."

    "Yes, I know, but hear me out. It's called the Dark Cybertron prophecy, dictated by a clan of Mortilus worshipers."

    Shockwave shook his head. "Teacher, if this prophecy is supposed to make me feel better, then--"

    "A fretful sky / An absent sun / A distant heat / A deathly hand / City against city / While the planet turns from gold to gray / And gray to black / No yesterday / No tomorrow / Just an everlasting now / Fleeting and forever / Circle, cycle, scythe / And the six-sided architect / Freethinking / Unblinking / Holds the fate of all things / In the palm of his hand."

    Shockwave stared at his teacher, unsure on what to make of his words. "I... what do you suppose that means? What does that have to do with our impending situation?"

    Jhiaxus smiled as he laid a hand on his student's shoulder. "I know you'll find the answer to that."

III. The Plans

    Shockwave had witnessed the Ark's departure and watched it until it became a mere glint in the sky. While the rest of the crowd fell into murmurs about life without Nova Prime, Shockwave broke away and headed for Jhiaxus' old academy, which had been abandoned when his former teacher joined the Ark's crew.

    Entering Jhiaxus' office, Shockwave began to sifle through his mentor's work, which he had been requested to do shortly before Jhiaxus left. The first thing to catch his eye was a datapad labeled "Monstructor."

    Shockwave grimaced at the name. A year ago, Jhiaxus had attempted to create the first gestalt Transformer. The result had been Monstructor, who went insane and began to ravage Cybertron. It took the mighty Omega Supreme to stop the uncontrollable abomination and Crystal City, the symbol of Nova Prime's Golden Age, was destroyed in the process.

    As he viewed the schematics on the datapad, Shockwave's disdain slowly turned into intrigue. Perhaps with the right person at the helm, such an experiment could possibly succeed. What purpose it would have, he was not certain; nevertheless, he would make sure to keep the datapad handy.

IV. The Outlier

    Over the next several millennia, Shockwave rose in popularity, becoming a renowned scientist, head of the Ministry of Science, and finally a member of the High Council. He had no doubt that, if he was still alive, Jhiaxus would be very proud of him.

    As such, in order to honor his former mentor, he had decided to open the Jhiaxian Academy of Advanced Technology, where he would continue Jhiaxus' studies and educate others like he had been.

    Unbeknownst to anyone else-- not even the High Council-- the J.A.A.T. was also a haven to Cybertronians gifted with powers not tied to their alternate modes, called outliers. Here, Shockwave would help these unique bots master their abilities and conceal them from prejudiced Functionists.

    It wasn't until several years into his career, shortly after the Great War had ended, that he came across a most peculiar outlier, living out on the streets of Rodion. Covered in blue and gray armor plating, the strange mech had a stoic visage, his optics concealed by a red visor. When Shockwave passed him, he dropped a few dozen credits at the vagrant's feet, hoping it would get him by. When the stranger began to follow him, Shockwave turned to confront him, his arms crossed.

    "Now listen here; I've given you a decent amount of credits. I'm afraid I cannot give you any more than that. If you're in need of shelter, I'm sure--"

    The vagrant silenced him with the raise of a hand before getting down to his knees. He scribbled something into the ground with a piece of metal, which Shockwave tilted his head to read.

    J.A.A.T.

    "Yes, I am headmaster of the J.A.A.T. But how do you know of it? That's all the way in Iacon."

    More scribbling. I can read your mind.

    The realization dawned on Shockwave. "Ah, I see now. Do you wish to be taken under my care?"

    The mute mech nodded.

    Shockwave smiled. "Then I would be happy too. And perhaps we can help you find your voice as well. What is your name?"

    Soundwave.

V. The Offer

    Over nine hundred years after his encounter with Soundwave, Shockwave had been paid a visit by an unwanted guest.

    Just as he was about to retire for the night, Shockwave had entered his quarters and found Trannis, the exiled leader of the Decepticons, resting comfortably in his chair. Shockwave opened his mouth to call for security but was dissuaded by a cannon barrel aimed at his face.

    "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Trannis said, grinning with malice. "I just wanted to talk."

    Shockwave glowered at him. "Whatever you have to say, I'll have you know that I am not interested in it."

    "We'll see about that." Trannis gestured to the chair opposite him. "Please, take a seat. I have an offer for you."

    Reluctantly, Shockwave sat down across from the Decepticon leader. "What kind of offer?"

    "One you cannot refuse. I understand that you have studied the teachings of Jhiaxus in a thorough manner, correct?"

    "Yes. What of it?"

    "Would you like to see them come to fruition?"

    The councilor blinked. "What are you talking about?"

    Trannis gestured with his hand. "Sentinel Prime's regime is faltering. This Golden Age is a mere shadow of its predecessor. New leadership is necessary."

    "You're talking about yourself."

    "Of course," Trannis said as if it were obvious. "But this is not the Cybertron I wish to rule. Poverty is everywhere, energon sources are low...."

    "You've heard about my proposed Regenesis program, haven't you?" Shockwave said. "To plant energon seeds on other worlds."

    "Indeed. Sentinel Prime was a fool to reject your plan. How else are we suppose to thrive as a race? So that is my offer: to let your Regenesis program become a reality."

    "In exchange for...?"

    "Joining the Decepticons and following my orders." Trannis smirked. "Simple enough, yes?"

    Shockwave mulled over the offer. Although it was against his moral judgment to side with a faction as ruthless as the Decepticons, he knew it would be all for the greater good. It was the only logical conclusion.

    He met the Decepticon leader's gaze. "I accept."

Star Wars Endgame: Episode VI, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

--Concord Dawn--

    "He is waking up, sir."

    "Good. He needs to be conscious for this."

    Kadar groggily awoke to find himself strapped to a table in a darkened chamber. Dreaded memories bubbled to the surface; was this some sort of nightmare? Was he being forced to relive what happened on Metalorn?

    He was proven wrong when a dark haired man-- his brother Tral-- came into view.

    "Did we have a nice nap?"

    Kadar scowled beneath his helmet. "Some family reunion this is."

    Tral smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry, brother, but I knew you wouldn't have agreed to come with us... especially if you knew why we wanted you."

    "What do you mean?"

    Tral sighed. "There are two ways this can go. You can either cooperate, or we will be forced to make the changes necessary for you to do so."

    "Are you going to start making sense?" Kadar growled.

    "Sure thing. We want you to kill Boba Fett."

    Kadar nearly sat up with a jolt, though his restraints prevented him from doing so. "You mean... Mand'alor?"

    Tral snorted. "He's not been much of one lately. No one's seen him since the Glorian War. Nowhere on Mandalore, not on Concord Dawn...."

    "So you want me to hunt him down and kill him."

    "You are one of the best bounty hunters in the galaxy," Tral said. "And it's not as if you're good old pals with him, right?"

    "Mandalorians don't kill each other."

    "And you haven't been one in ten years."

    Kadar was silent for a long time; he had always hated it when his brother was right, and twenty-seven years had not made a difference.

    "What's the alternative, then? If I refuse?"

    Tral gave another rueful look as a surgical droid came into view. "A lobotomy is an option for you."

    Kadar huffed. He didn't like the prospect of either idea, but he wasn't too keen on losing his will.

    "Fine," he growled. "I'll find Mand'alor and kill him."

    Trail smiled as the restraints on Kadar were automatically undone. "Thank you for making this easy, brother."

    "I'll be wanting something in return for all this."

    "Name it."

    "I want a nice, quiet, and private place to live for the rest of my life. Along with a new identity, so that no one seeking revenge can find me."

    "Done." Tral then arched an eyebrow. "Though wouldn't be nice to reconcile with your daughter?"

    Kadar said nothing as he strode out the nearest door and into the Concord Dawn moonlight.

--Phaeda--

    "You know, your partially dyed hair clashes with your green skin."

    Kyla Kishanti glared at the Jenet waiter. "Just give me my roba steak."

    The rodent-like being sneered at her as he set down the plate. "Your mother was a roba. And your father smelt of bula berries."

    "You're asking for a blaster in the face, buster."

    The server snorted before storming away. Kyla sighed in exasperation; she knew that Jenets saw insults and harsh opinions as compliments, but Kyla was not a Jenet and she was not in the mood for returning the favor to them.

    As she grudgingly bit into her steak, Bedo looked up at her from his own meal, which he absorbed through his suction-cupped fingers. "Still bothered about that ex-boyfriend?"

    "I'm not bothered," Kyla said snappishly. "Just... wish things had gone a little bit better back there."

    "That still counts as being bothered," Keera purred, leaning over her soup. "You know, as a former gossip writer, I'm dying to know the story between you two."

    Kyla scowled. "Gee, I wonder why you got dropped from that position. Keep your nose out of my business, Keera."

    "I just can't believe I met my father," Ves murmured, having barely touched her Bantha Burger. "And before any of you say it, no, he wasn't lying. I should know what my father looks like."

    "Why do you say that?" Bedo asked. "Weren't you very young when you got adopted?"

    Ves sighed. "I was only nine when he left me. I can still remember him and Mum vividly. And he-- Kadar-- looked just like him, except, well, older and...."

    Her voice trailed off and Kyla realized she was staring at a man who had just walked into the diner. He wore a poncho over a green shirt and tan pants, with a wide-brimmed straw hat concealing the top half of his face.

    "That's not... who I think it is, is it?"

    "Who do you think it is?" Ace asked as he pulled a strand of lettuce from his teeth.

    "Quick, name the best bounty hunter ever."

    "Kadar," Kyla said right off the bat.

    "Calo Nord," Bedo supplied.

    "Cad Bane," Keera said dreamily.

    "That... one Ithorian." Wiskin tapped his chin. "What was his name again?"

    "Boba Fett," Ace finally said.

    "Thank you." Ves rolled her eyes. "Seriously, who's Calo Nord?"

    Bedo huffed and muttered something about kids and their lack of education on history.

    Kyla leaned forward towards Ves and whispered, "Do you mean to tell me that you think that man over there is the one and only Boba Fett?"

    Ves nodded.

    "How do you even know what he looks like without his helmet?"

    "When... my foster father took me to meetings with him, I sometimes saw him without his helmet."

    "What's he doing here on Phaeda, all the way from Mandalorian Space?" Ace wondered aloud.

    "Why do we care?" Wiskin growled.

    "I care," Keera murmured, appraising the notorious ex-bounty hunter from afar.

    Kyla rolled her eyes. "Of course you do, but we don't, and he probably wouldn't want us to. So just let him mind his business and--"

    Before she could finish, Ves was already out of her seat and making a bee-line for Boba Fett. The Mirialan slumped her shoulders.

    Since when does anyone listen to me?

Transformers Regenerated: Origins - The Leviathan

Will be switching off between this and Star Wars.
EDITED 2/4/2015 Okay, Skrap was supposed to be my name for Frak's partner in MTMTE #14, which the first scene is inspired by/based on. Just today, MTMTE author James Roberts has named said partner as Rushcut. So I decided to change the name accordingly-- mainly because it's a lot better than "Skrap."

TRANSFORMERS REGENERATED

Interlude II: Origins

THE LEVIATHAN

--Luna 2, 4,200 years ago--

    "Drivetrain, where the frag are you? You were supposed to be here half a megacycle ago!"

    "Hold your turbofoxes, Momus. I'm on my way."

    "You'd better be, or I'll be docking you pay," Momus growled. "Again!"

    He started cursing to himself as he got off his communicator. It continued to baffle him why Drivetrain was at the rank he held. If it were up to him, he'd be kicking the tardy mech's afterburner all the way to Junkion.

    Just as he was about to return to his work, his comlink beeped again. Momus rolled his optics as he answered it, expecting another excuse from Drivetrain.

    "Look, Drivetrain, there's no--"

    "It's Frak, sir," a different mech's voice said. "Rushcut and I have found something that might interest you."

    "Make it quick, Frak. I've got datapads to fill."

    "We've found a green spark. I think... I think it's a Point One Percenter."

    "A Point One...." Momus' optics widened. "Are you... are you sure? Those are very occurrences, you know."

    "I know, sir, and I'm positive."

    The mining foreman slowly nodded to himself. "Very well." He then switched off his comlink and went to a completely different channel-- one he had never had to go to before.

    "Functionist Council? This is Momus of Helex. I'm calling a Code One-One-Three...."

--Thymesis Energon Mining Facility--

    Momus watched as the Functionists' Authenticator, a one-eyed mech known only as Three-of-Twelve, scanned the green spark which his two workers had discovered. A mix of emotions conflicted within him: nervousness about being in the presence of the mysterious and foreboding Functionist, hope that the spark would be authentic, and anticipation for the reward he would doubtlessly receive if it was.

    After several minutes, the Authenticator rose to his full height, towering a head taller than Momus, and turned to the foreman.

    "It is viable," Three-of-Twelve said in a dull, monotonous voice. "I shall arrange its excavation and prepare it for nurturing."

    Momus slowly nodded. "So... is it... is it really a Point One Percenter?"

    "A grave misuse of statistics, but yes." The Authenticator regarded the healthy green spark with his single optic. "The first in ten generations."

    "Meaning... there's a reward for this, right?"

    Three-of-Twelve turned to Momus and pressed two fingers to the miner's forehead. "By the power bestowed upon me by the Functionist Council, I declare you alt mode exempt. You are hereby reclassified and free to pursue a path of your own choosing."

    Before Momus could react to this, he heard a voice shout, "Hey!"

    Both mechs turned to Frak and Rushcut. The two miners had been silent during the inspection, but one of them clearly could not hold his piece for any longer.

    "We discovered the blasted thing!" Rushcut exclaimed. "What do we get?"

    "Just a drill would be nice," Frak murmured.

    Three-of-Twelve regarded them coldly. "Were you exposed to the first flash?"

    Rushcut scratched his head. "Exposed? Um, yeah, I guess...."

    "Then you get about six hours to live."

--Years later--

    He was without a name. All he knew was the generic designation he had been given from birth and the clinking of metal against stone that echoed throughout the mines of Kaon. He supposed it was only fitting that he be chained to a mine. After all, he had been born in one, so it would only be poetic that he died in one.

    That's what he had believed for nearly two thousand years. Then it happened.

    D-307 had been toiling away as usual, striking stone with his axe, when a bright violet light illuminated the mine. All heads turned to their fellow worker D-16, who had just uncovered a dark purple ore.

    In moments, their manager Backbite had come down to investigate the cessation of work. When he moved to claim the discovery, D-16 swiftly executed him and turned to his fellow miners. He rallied them to revolt, to break their chains, to defy the High Council, and to identify as individuals rather than nameless laborers. 

    D-307 was the first to raise his voice in assent. From then on, he was Overlord.

*  *  *

    It was in the gladiatorial pits of New Kaon where true warriors were born. Here, Decepticons trained and fought in preparation for the war Trannis was planning. Here, the weak were weeded out and vanquished. Here, only the strong prevailed.

    Overlord quickly made it known that he was of the latter category. 

    Overtime, people began calling him "the Leviathan," referring to how he so easily defeated and obliterated his opponents. When the time came for war, Overlord was the first warrior to be unleashed.

    Even when the Great War had ended and the Decepticons were exiled, Overlord continued to haunt Autobots and little protoforms in their nightmares. The name D-307 had become all but a memory.

    There was only the Leviathan.

*  *  *

    Over the thousands of years that followed the end of the war, Overlord continued to fight in the pits, though he was restrained from killing all of his opponents due to a shortage of warriors. Regardless, he continued to enjoy himself.

    Until he arrived.

    It was a few months before the Second Great War began. Trannis had introduced everyone to his new ward, a former Autobot named Optronix. In order to prove himself as a warrior, he was thrown into the gladiatorial pits and pitted against the best fighters the Decepticon Empire had to offer.

    Skyquake, Clench, Scorponok... the large the mechs Optronix defeated, the more impressed Overlord became. He knew that the ex-Autobot would still be no match for him, but he would respect him for having made it so far.

    With each blow Overlord took from Optronix, a portion of that respect was replaced with humiliation.

    Trannis had done more than just give the Autobot a new body; he had created a monster. All of this fighting was just to get rid of every last bit of Optronix and replace it with... with something else entirely.

    Overlord was thrown and tossed about. Fists flew into his face. Knees shot up into his chest. Energon leaked from everywhere on his body. Before he knew it, he was a crumpled heap on the floor, with the future leader of the Decepticons standing triumphantly over him.

    The Leviathan had met his match.

*  *  *

    It would not be until five years into the Second Great War that Overlord would see Megatron again. Following a summons to the Decepticon leader's quarters, the shamed gladiator was immediately whisked away to Shockwave's lab. There, Overlord was infused with ununtrium, an element that rendered him virtually indestructible.

    Overlord had smiled to himself as he emerged from the vat, knowing that this was just the beginning of Megatron's ultimate mistake.

*  *  *

    Now he sits on his self-made throne in the depths of the conquered Garrus-9. From here he watches captured Autobots fight against his Decepticon soldiers. Here they play by the old rules, and the loser is rewarded with the mercy of death.

    All the while, he waits. He waits for Megatron to return from his century-long absence so that he may challenge him for the Decepticon throne and get payback for his humiliation.

    Here I am, Megatron. The Leviathan hungers.

Star Wars Endgame: Episode VI, Chapter One

STAR WARS ENDGAME

Episode VI: The Lifted Veil

Timeline: 40 ABY (several hours after Episode V)

CHAPTER ONE

    Lieutenant Arek Cobalt took a deep breath as he loaded up his blaster rifle. It wasn't that he was nervous about shooting people-- far from it, in fact. No, he was nervous because it would be Imperials he would be fighting today.

    The things he had went through during the Glorian War were still fresh in his mind: the abduction of Kaal, the Battle of Coruscant... he was not looking forward to another conflict.

    As he donned his helmet, he heard Commander Zanab's voice speak into his ear. "Rancors, report in."

    "Rancor Two, copying," Arek said.

    "Rancor Three, locked and loaded," growled Sirul Rosk.

    Reeda and Arila copied right after him, then silence. The troopers turned to their Kel Dor comrade, who was shivering head to toe.

    Zanab sighed. "Six, report in."

    "H-here," Yin Zarn said quietly.

    Arek saw the others shake their helmeted heads. "Right," the commander said. "Let's get down to the hangar bay."

*  *  *

    The steel floor vibrated beneath Admiral Kre'fey's feet as the Ralroost went through hyperspace. Like many others on the ship, he was not looking forward to reaching their destination: Bastion, capital of the Imperial Remnant.

    The Chief of State had dispatched the Ralroost to Imperial space in order to retrieve the nine hostages the Imperials had taken: one senator, three Jedi, four guards, and the captain of their ship. While the Moffs convened with the Chief in regards to their demands, the Ralroost was to stay in a far orbit of Bastion, in case the Imperials refused to release the hostages if the Alliance complied with the demands.

    The fate of galactic peace was relying on a bunch of "ifs." This did little to assuage Kre'fey's worried feelings.

    "Sir," an officer on the bridge said, "we're approaching the Bastion system."

    "Good. Bring us out of hyperspace."

    Shortly, after he spoke, the Ralroost came out of lightspeed and was brought up before the orange world of Bastion. Kre'fey quietly sighed as he folded his arms.

    "Before anyone else says it, allow me be the first to say: I have a bad feeling about this."

*  *  *

    "Sir, we've detected an Alliance ship."

    Admiral Kel-Raa looked down at the Imperial officer who had spoken, stationed in the bridge's pit. "Model?"

    "A Bothan Assault Cruiser, sir. I think it's the Ralroost, Admiral Kre'fey's--"

    "I don't want assumptions, officer," the Cerean Imperial chided him. "Just patch me through to it."

    The officer nodded and sent a hailing frequency to the Alliance ship. In moments, the holographic image of a Bothan male appeared before the admiral.

    "This is Admiral Kel-Raa of the Sentinel, Carrion Sector Fleet," the Cerean said. "Please identify yourself and state your business."

    "Admiral Traest Kre'fey of the Ralroost," the Bothan replied. "We are here to retrieve nine hostages when the negotiations between our two governments go through."

    Kel-Raa cleared his throat. "Unless I was misinformed, we would be sending the hostages to you... if the negotiations go through."

    Kre'fey shrugged. "I was around the sector, so I was sent to save you the trouble."

    Although Kel-Raa was not Force-sensitive, his analytical mind allowed him to see through Kre'fey's lies. Regardless, his response was the same.

    "That is not necessary. Please leave Imperial space now."

    Kre'fey frowned. "As an Alliance officer, I have every right to be here. The Imperial Remnant is still an affiliate with the Galactic Alliance."

    Kel-Raa bit his lip. Seeing no way out of this, he nodded in renouncement. "Very well. You may stay exactly where you are until then negotiations are complete."

    The Bothan nodded back. "Thank you, admiral." With that, the hologram fizzled out.

    Kel-Raa stared out towards the Ralroost through the viewport before turning to his human captain. "Command things from here while I speak with Moff Teron."

*  *  *

    Summon us, brother. Take us to Mother.

    Jaden Korr clutched his head as he leaned against a wall. The clones' voices were growing more and more insistent as time passed. He couldn't even sleep or meditate without hearing them.

    Sitting across the cell, next to a meditating Taana Di, Natia Dorn frowned. "Are they still bothering you?"

    "Uh-huh," Jaden grunted.

    "Why don't you go ahead and summon them? Maybe they can free us."

    "Unless they're trying to pull something." Jaden then sighed. "I suppose it's worth a shot, though."

    Opening his mind up to the clones, he sent out a single word: Come.

    At first, nothing happened. Then, alarms began to blare. Footsteps rushed past their cell. Blaster shots rang down the hall. Voices cried out. Then, the door to the cell opened, revealing the visage of Jedi Master Kyle Katarn-- or rather, his clone.

    "Come, brother," he growled. "Let us take our freedom."

*  *  *

    "--Breakout on Detention Block 1119, cell 17--"

    "--Alliance ship in Imperial space--"

    The reports had come in almost simultaneously, almost as if some freak coincidence had occurred, or as if they were somehow related. Either way, Moff Teron was concerned.

    The negotiations were still underway, primarily handled by Moffs Sarreti, Lecersen, and Sorik. Tonith and the others were busy with covering up Verradun's death and finding a temporary replacement for him. Thus, things fell to Teron to handle.

    With great reluctance, he contacted the leader of the Imperial Knights. He trusted the Knights as far as he could throw them (and he thought the same of the Jedi), but he was left with no other choice.

    "Tares Mal," Teron muttered, "the Jedi have broken out."

    The Imperial Knight did not require any further instruction; he knew what needed to be done. He signed off with an acknowledgment while Teron leaned back in his seat, anxious to see how things would play out.