Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light V, Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

--The Leading Light--

    "I see the Rodpod down below," Riptide said as he piloted the shuttle towards Garrus-16. "Should I land next to it or do we go in a different way?"

    Drift leaned over the Hydrobot's station, rubbing his chin. "The schematics Magnus showed me of the facility showed an attic of some sort. Maybe we could land on the rooftop and go through there."

    "Hold up a moment," Hound said from his station. "I'm picking up a huge energon signature -- enough to be six different lifeform reading, but it's all coming in as one."

    "There must be something big in the attic," Trailbreaker muttered, standing nearby with Cyclonus, Atomizer, Chromedome, and Rewind. "Something big and scary, I'm willing to bet."

    "I wouldn't expect any less from these 'Cons," Drift said. "Land us on the rooftop, Riptide. Whatever's there, we'll deal with it somehow."

    "Yeah, sure," Riptide grunted. "Deal with it by dying horribly probably."

--Garrus-16--

    To the surprise and confusion of Skids and his group, the Chompazoid the former had encountered were nowhere to be seen. As they had planned, they split up into three teams of two, with Skids and Ariel using the foot indentures left behind by Underbite to take them back to where Rodimus and the others were being held.

    Since Ariel was unable to transform (at least according to Over-Run), the two opted to walk instead, silently creeping down the hallway. Upon reaching the end of the trail -- at the site where he first ran into the Chompazoid -- Skids signaled Ariel to stay behind while he scouted ahead.

    Peering around the corner, down which he could see the chamber the others were in, he spotted three Decepticon standing guard, talking amongst themselves.

    "--miss Sky-Byte being with us," a blue winged mech was saying. "The guys Gigatron's got here aren't nearly as fun to heckle."

    "No kidding," a crimson one said. "Most of them are too stupid to know they're being made fun of or they nearly bite your head off if you so much as ask them the time."

    "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I also miss how he kissed Gigatron's feet," said the tallest of them, a black and yellow mech. "It was just so pathetic that you couldn't help but laugh hysterically. Why did he leave us again?"

    "I dunno, somethin' to do with the Constructicons," the red one said. "Something they did on Varas Centralus traumatized him or something."

    "Huh. Y'know, I always gave him better credit than that."

    Skids tuned out the rest of their conversation. It was clear to him that these three Decepticons were some of the lousiest he had ever met. Gigatron must have had not much care for security. Maybe this plan would go off easier than he thought.

    He quickly perished that thought. Plans like these never went smoothly.

    Turning back to Ariel, he said, "Stay where you are. I'll handle these three."

    Ariel nodded obediently and Skids moved into the hallway, stepping into plain view of the bumbling trio.

    "Hey, you there!" the red one said. "You're no Decepticon I recognize!"

    "That's because he isn't, you lug nut," the black one snapped. "He's one of the escaped Autobots!"

    "Oh, sweet Primus!" the blue one whimpered. "I didn't think he'd come after us! We're all gonna die!"

    "Shut up, Dark Scream! This guy is going down!" Stepping forward, the black one angled his left shoulder and an orb-shaped crystal glowed in its center. "Left Las--!"

    A single blast from Skids' shoulder cannons sent the Decepticon sprawling back into the chamber. The one known as Dark Scream shrieked out of terror while the red one brandished his own crystal, hidden in his large shoulder pad.

    "No one messes with my brother and gets away with it! Right La--!"

    A shot delivered to the head knocked the red mech out. Horrified by what he was seeing, Dark Scream converted into his beast mode -- a flying squirrel -- and shot past Skids. Deciding he was not worth the trouble, Skids let the Decepticon go and signaled Ariel over to him.

    As the two entered the chamber, Skids was relieved to see that Rodimus and the others were still there -- comatose, but otherwise alive. However, he quickly realized that they were not alone, seeing movement behind Whirl's cocoon. As soon as Skids took aim with his weapons, a pair of arms shot up.

    "Don't shoot!" a familiar voice said. "It's me!"

    Skids blinked as he lowered his guns. "Ratchet?"

    The Autobot medic emerged from behind the cocoon, a disgruntled look on his face. "Can't I help my fellow bots out without being shot at?"

    "I'm sorry," Skids said. "I thought you were a Decepticon. There were two in here earlier, when I escaped." He then tilted his head quizzically. "Where have you been? I didn't see you or Brainstorm when I woke up."

    "I don't know about Brainstorm, but I had a run-in with Pharma," Ratchet muttered. "If it weren't for Tap-Out here, I'd probably be dead."

    "Tap-Out who?" Skids then saw a green Autobot appear from behind Windblade, immediately recognizing him from the cell block when he and the others had first arrived. "Oh, yeah, you. How did you get free? You were in a cell when we met."

    Tap-Out said nothing. Instead, a grin slowly started to cross his face as a disembodied voice spoke out of nowhere.

    "What do they teach at the academies these days?"

    Suddenly, before the three Autobots' horrified optics, Tap-Out's green chassis started to peel away, slowly being replaced by an all-black, red-eyed serpentine creature.

    "Don't you know to never judge a book by its cover?"

    Before anyone could react, a large figure appeared in the doorway, a manic grin on his face. At least half a dozen Decepticons were behind him, all looking eager to tear the Autobots apart.

    "Thank you for that wise lesson, Pseudo," Overlord said as he brandished a gun. "Now I think is the time to demonstrate one of my own: don't pick a fight you know you can't win."

*  *  *

    "You sure is the security center?"

    "Do you not trust me, Autobot?" Viral said wryly as he and Kick-Off stepped into a room filled with monitors.

    "Of course I don't," Kick-Off grunted. "But I don't have much of a choice, now do I? Now answer my question."

    "Yes, I do believe this is the security center," Viral replied, scanning the room. He soon landed his gaze on a lifeless chassis sprawled before the monitor station, fresh innermost energon still leaking from the corpse. "And I have the distinct feeling this plan is not going to go as smoothly as Skids had hoped."

    Kick-Off took one look at the body and simply snorted. "Don't tell me you're freaked out by one corpse. I've seen enough to populate an entire planet. Just get the cell doors open and--"

    Viral had his back turned when Kick-Off was abruptly cut off. When he turned around, he saw the cause of that to be a giant floating hand holding the Autobot in a death grip.

    It was moments like now that made Viral wish he had stayed in his coffin.

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light V, Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

--Garrus-16--

    "It would appear we both have an escapee on our hands."

    Gigatron scowled to himself as he heard Overlord enter the room behind him. The Decepticon warlord currently had his optics on a set of viewscreens connected to security cameras throughout the facility. He had had a Decepticon watching these screens, but their laziness had led to the escapes go unnoticed and to their own demise.

    As Overlord came to stand beside him, Gigatron turned to him and said, "Would I be wasting my time if I asked if Viral was able to get anything from Fortress Maximus?"

    "Since you're asking: yes. He claimed that there was nothing to be found -- whether he was telling the truth or not, only he knows."

    Gigatron bared his fanged teeth as he growled. "I would have been better off tearing out Maximus' processor myself." Tuning into the facility's intercom, the warlord snarled, "Attention, all Decepticons: we have two rogues -- an Autobot and a Decepticon -- on the loose. Whichever one of you brings me their heads is free to leave Garrus-16."

    One the viewscreens, the numerous Decepticons under Gigatron's command could be seen looking around in a mixture of confusion and eagerness. Overlord then took the loudspeaker from Gigatron.

    "What are you waiting for? A starting gun?"

    At once, the Decepticons scattered and the two generals stepped back to enjoy the show.

*  *  *

    "Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Skids muttered as he raised his hands at the three Autobots pointing guns at him. "Let me guess: you guys think I led him here."

    "The hatch you used to get in here closes automatically," Kick-Off said darkly. "The only way he could have gotten in was if he was with you and Ariel in the closet and followed you in."

    "I am normally not one to come to an Autobot's defense," Viral said. "But I feel that I should mention to you that there was a large Chompazoid out there punching holes into the door. I disabled him momentarily so I could get here, but I imagine that he's gotten back up by now and more angry than ever."

    "And why should we trust you, Decepticon?" Over-Run growled.

    "You know, I'm really starting to grow sick of hearing that," Viral muttered.

    "Look," Skids said sternly to everyone. "If we are to get ourselves out of this predicament, we're gonna have to trust each other -- however grudgingly -- and come up with a plan."

    "Are you kidding?" Skyfall said. "Six of us against hundreds of them? We'd fare better in a Buffaloid stampede."

    "I didn't come here alone: seven of my friends have been captured and I know where five of them are. Once we free them, we might have a better chance--"

    "If we free them, you mean," Kick-Off said pointedly. "I'm willing to bet my Shanix on two things: either the 'Cons have strengthened their security on all their prisoners... or they've decided to just kill them instead."

    "I'm not ruling out the possibility," Skids admitted solemnly. "But I'm also not ruling out that they might still be alive. It's either do something or do nothing; chances of death are still about the same."

    A moment of silence passed among the mechs. Finally, Kick-Off said, "All right," earning surprised looks from Skyfall and Over-Run. "It's stupid and dangerous, and will probably end in tears, but all right. What do we do first?"

    "Well, first of all, there's the Chompazoid outside to deal with. Anyone know how to put one out?"

    "I know that they are weakened by materials other than metal," Viral said. "Unfortunately, metal is all that we and this place are made out of."

    "We could just feed you to him and make out getaway while he's enjoying his meal," Over-Run said snidely. 

    "Trust me: that would not be a good idea."

    "Wait, you said earlier that you disabled," Skyfall said. "Couldn't you do it again?"

    "It would be a lot more difficult, since he would be more aware this time," Viral muttered. "But, seeing as we're low on other options...."

    "Great, glad to have you on board," Skids said dryly. "After that's taken care of, we'll split up to make it hard for any 'Cons on the lookout to catch us. I'll take Ariel with me to where my teammates are. Kick-Off, you and Viral go find the security center and open the cells on the first level. Once you do that, Skyfall and Over-Run will help any surviving and mentally stable prisoners get free and hopefully by then we'll have the numbers to face off against the 'Cons."

    "This is crazy," Over-Run muttered. "There's no way in Pit that we're going to survive this."

    "Believe me," Skids said. "I've told myself that countless times and yet I'm still here."

    Over-Run scoffed. "There's a first time for everything."

*  *  *

    "Ha! Found an Autobot, found an Autobot!"

    "He was already here to begin with, you louse," snapped the tall blue Decepticon as he followed his skittish, crab-like companion into the room which held Fortress Maximus. "Although it woulda still helped if dey had given us some pics of the blokes...."

    "Maybe Gigatron won't know the difference!" Clampdown said, already cutting Maximus' restraints with his claws. "I mean, all Autobots look the same, right? I don't think he could tell this guy's head apart from someone like Grimlock--"

    "Pipe it down, will ya?" Thunderhoof said brusquely. "I hear somethin'...."

    Clampdown froze mid-snap, his eye stalks wide with fear as he hear the sound of footsteps. "Is it Gigatron?" he whispered. "Oh, spark, I hope he didn't hear me. If he did, please tell him I didn't mean anything by it. I was just-- just--"

    The footsteps eventually reached the doorway and, to both 'Cons relief, was not Gigatron but rather a teal, winged mech with an Autobot symbol. Thunderhoof grinned savagely as he drew his gun.

    "Well, well, well. Look who decided to bite off more than he could chew."

    "Not so fast," the Autobot said as he unclipped his mouthplate, showing Thunderhoof the Decepticon insignia underneath. "I'm one of you. I'm undercover. You put away the gun now."

    Thunderhoof narrowed his optics. "Undercover, eh? Nice ploy, but anyone can paint a logo inside their mouthplate."

    "That's true. They can." The mech smirked. "But not everyone knows about the raid on Harmonex, or the Malware Brigade Riot of Cycle 8269."

    Thunderhoof blinked, taking a step back. "You -- you know about all that?"

    "Of course I do. Banzai-Tron's files aren't public to everyone, but I've been given the privilege of reading some of them. It'd be a shame if Gigatron found out about your exploits on Dormanus."

    "Please," Thunderhoof found himself pleading, in spite of his dignity. "Don't tell him--"

    "Oh, I won't. Just so long as you get out of my way."

    "Y--yeh, sure, no problem." Thunderhoof curtly signaled Clampdown to follow him and the two Decepticon scurried out of the room. Left alone with the inert Fortress Maximus, Brainstorm walked up to him and undid his last restraints.

    "Right then," he muttered to himself. "Time to put my genius to work."

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light V, Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

--The Vis Vitalis--

    "Captain, come over here quick."

    Firestar sighed as she strode down the bridge towards her crewmate's station. "For the last time, Javelin, I'm not the captain. I'm just acting in Thunderclash's--"

    "Yeah, okay, whatever," Javelin said flippantly. "I've been trying to track down Cybertronian medics for a while now and I've found one just a few systems away."

    "As long as they're Autobot and have a Nominus Prize for Medicine, then I'm all for seeking them out."

    "Here, let me bring up his file." Javelin pressed a few commands into her computer and brought up the profile of a white, red, and blue mech. "Pharma of Upper Petrohex. Receiver of the Nominus Prize for Medicine, as well as the Rossum Award for Delicate Operations and the Cogwheel Medal. Served at the Deltaran Medical Facility and as Chief Medical Officer at the Delphi facility on Messatine."

    "Those are some impressive credentials," Firestar noted. "I think I might have heard Nautica mention him before in the messages she's sent me."

    "Nautica? Spark, it's been forever, hasn't it. Have you spoken to her recently?"

    Firestar opened her mouth to answer but stopped herself, thinking twice on her response. "It's... been a while," she said, trying to keep it vague.

    "I mean, she is your Amica Endura and all. I would think the two of you would still be in touch especially with the war over."

    Firestar shifted slightly as she looked away towards the stars outside. "Well, we've both been busy, you know. I've been serving as first mate here and she's been... doing her own thing."

    "You don't even know what she does for a living?" Javelin asked.

    "Of course I do," Firestar said hastily. "I'm just... look, just take us to Pharma so we can get Thunderclash back to health. This... this topic can wait."

    Javelin frowned as she watched Firestar turn and leave, a bit more hastily than was professionally acceptable. "As you wish."

--The Lost Light, shuttle bay--

    "For the last time, Rewind, you're not coming with me."

    "Don't be ridiculous," Rewind retorted as he ran after Chromedome into the shuttle bay. "If you think for one nano-second that I'm letting you go down there by yourself--"

    "I'm not putting you in danger," Chromedome said sternly. "No one knows what's down there, but if it was enough to cut us off from Rodimus and the others--"

    Rewind cut him off by grabbing his arm and forcing his partner to look at him. "You listen here: there is no way in Pit am I going to let you go down there and -- and die or vanish without me knowing. I couldn't possibly be able to bear that pain all over again."

    "Rewind," Chromedome started to say but stopped himself as he saw Trailbreaker and Atomizer approaching, giving odd looks in their direction. The last thing he needed right now was awkwardness to add to the tension.

    "All right," he finally said, trying not to sound exasperated. "Just promise me that you'll stay close by me."

    "You have my word," Rewind said, less terse now.

    "Good. Let's get going then."

--Garrus-16--

    "I don't mean to sound rude or anything," Skids grunted as he crawled after the mysterious femme, having just hit his head on a pipe for the seventh time. "But are we getting any closer to wherever it is you're taking me?"

    The femme said nothing, but as it turned out she didn't need to answer. The two of them came before a steel grate, which the femme gently and quietly removed from its bolts. After pushing it aside, she and Skids emerged into a dark, somewhat cramped room, which quickly became a lit one as three small lights went off in separate directions, all emitting from three mechs with guns.

    "Ariel," one of them said, his orange-yellow face scowling. "What did I say about bringing home strangers?"

    "Not stranger," the femme called Ariel said. "Friend."

    The mech looked up at Skids and gave him a skeptical look. "Friend, huh? Are you two associated or something?"

    "I've only just met her," Skids said. "But why all the frowning faces? Don't you see the Autobot badge--"

    "Badges mean nothing here," snapped a red mech. "For all we know, you could be another Pharma."

    "Okay, I'll give you that," Skids admitted. "But from my perspective, wouldn't the same apply to you?"

    "I'm getting bad vibes from this guy, Kick-Off," the third mech said to the first. "I say we just shoot him and--"

    "Hold your fire, Over-Run," the one called Kick-Off said. "Let's not jump to conclusions just yet. Skyfall, scan him for any tracking devices or disguise modules. I want to be sure blue is his real color."

    The red mech brought out a scanning device and waved it across Skids. It then pinged with a green light.

    "He's clean, double agent-wise," Skyfall reported. "He's armed to the teeth, though: shoulder cannons, arm cannons, missiles... what are you, a Wrecker?"

    "I'm a theoretician," Skids said.

    "That's a shame. We could use a Wrecker right about now."

    Skids looked from Ariel to the three mechs, scratching his head. "So what's the story here? How have you bots been able to avoid capture?"

    "Sheer dumb luck, mostly," Kick-Off grunted. "The three of us-- Skyfall, Over-Run, and myself-- were among those on Garrus-9 under Fortress Maximus' command when Overlord attacked. When he and Gigatron formed their alliance two months ago, we were brought along to either serve as test subjects or for entertainment purposes."

    "What kind of entertainment?" Skids asked.

    "Gladiatorial, Overlord's favorite kind. I was probably his favorite fight, for I didn't show any qualms in killing my own teammates."

    Skids looked at him in surprise. "You... what?"

    "I didn't enjoy it," Kick-Off snapped. "Of course I didn't. But I needed to do what I could to survive, and to learn whatever I could about the 'Cons security measures. Luckily, Gigatron barely has any here at Garrus-16, which is how we were able to evade capture."

    "And Ariel? What's her story?"

    "We found her the same as you probably did," Skyfall said. "We were hiding in a closet when we encountered her and she led us into this little chamber. We send her out frequently to keep an audio sensor for noises outside."

    "And if a Decepticon were to walk in? Does she have any means for protecting herself?"

    "Makes no difference to us," Over-Run muttered. "No loss if she gets herself killed--"

    "Whoa, whoa, back up," Skids said, not hiding the incredulity in his voice. "What do you mean it's 'no loss?' How could you say that of another Autobot?"

    "She's absolutely useless! She can't transform, she always gets distracted, she's as clumsy as a Nosoron...."

    As Over-Run went on with his rant, Skids glanced at Ariel, who had moved to the corner of the room, sitting against the wall with her knees up to her chest. He then turned back to Over-Run and held up his hand to silence him.

    "Enough," he said curtly. "Forget I even asked. You know, I've seen my fair share of Autobots who cross the line once or twice, or go completely bonkers, but never have I met one who stays at the line and yet makes me want to punch their lights out for being such a complete skidplate."

    "See, this is why I joined the Decepticons."

    All four Autobots all brought out their guns at the spindly mech standing in the open grate leading into the room. Viral, for his part, did not look the least bit intimidated.

    "Because at least with them, there is no line for you to cross."

    As one, Kick-Off, Skyfall, and Over-Run raised their weapons... and pointed them at Skids.

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light V, Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

--Garrus-16--

    Although he wasn't a mnemosurgeon like Fearstorm had been, Viral figured it wasn't that complicated to get into a Cybertronian's processor. Of course, it was a bit messier having to manually open up the victim's head to access their brain module, but it was hardly a difficult process when one had servos as slender as Viral's.

    Once he was in, he began to sift through Fortress Maximus' processor, scouring every corner of his mind for what he sought. Apparently Maximus had taken the precautionary measures to place firewalls in his mind to protect the Aequitas codes. But no firewall was a match for someone with Viral's skills.

    What was, however, was the fact that the Aequitas codes were nowhere to be found.

    Viral checked and double-checked, peeling away every last mental barrier Fortress Maximus had. Still nothing. In every place where Aequitas was prominent in his memory, the codes were simply not there... making Viral wonder if they ever were in the first place.

    Extracting his fingers from Maximus' head, Viral looked up at Overlord, who was standing nearby, waiting with great expectancy.

    "I can't find them," he said. "They don't appear to be--"

    "Keep searching," Overlord growled. "Surely one as skilled as you can break through even Fortress Maximus' mind."

    "I'm not a mnemosurgeon, my liege," Viral retorted. "I can extract codes from people's processors, but that's it. And there aren't any codes for me to extract."

    Overlord sneered as he leaned in menacingly. "Oh, really? How do I know, then, that you're not keeping the codes for yourself?"

    Viral hesitated, knowing that nothing he could say would convince someone like Overlord. Of course, that one moment of hesitation was exactly what Overlord was looking for.

    "Ah, Viral," the former Warrior Elite said with feigned reluctance. "I had such high hopes for you. But if you plan on being difficult--"

    It had not been his plan, but Viral decided to be difficult. Dashing past Overlord, he lunged for the controls to the room's lights and jammed his slender hands into them, draining it of power and plunging the chamber into darkness.

    Overlord's laughter rang out from the shadows while Viral made his way towards the door. "You think the darkness can help you? You think you can use it to save yourself?"

    Viral turned him out as he finally found the door and opened it. Just before he transformed and took off into the hallway, he heard Overlord's voice follow after him.

    "Run as fast as you can, Viral. That just makes things more interesting."

*  *  *

    Skids only had a handful of seconds to think of an escape. Luckily, quick thinking was a requirement for someone like him.

    As Nightstrike started to approach him, murder in his eyes, Skids spun his transformation cog as fast as he could. The technique was known as instantaneous conversion, allowing one to transform from one mode to the next in the blink of an eye. If he did it here fast enough, he could possibly break from from the cocoon he was in.

    Centuries worth of special training did not disappoint.

    Nightstrike let out a shriek as Skids burst out of his cage in car mode and made his way for the door. He could hear Gigatron's screams of rage as he sped out of the room, but they were soon well behind him.

    It was only at this point that Skids realized that he knew nothing about the facility other than what Viral had showed him and the others. One wrong turn and he could end up in the maw of a Chompazoid.

    He soon found himself swearing by all five deities of the Guiding Hand when that exact thing happened.

    Slamming on his brakes, Skids' wheels screeched against the floor as he skidded right underneath the quadruped beast before it had even registered his sudden appearance. Once Skids had ended up behind the Chompazoid, he hit on the accelerator again and sped down the corridor, praying the beast would not follow.

    It did, of course. Angrily so.

    "Get back here, varmint!" it called after him. "Come and get what's comin' to ya! Do you know who I am?!"

    Skids decided to ignore the fact that the Chompazoid could talk (and in a very specific Terran accent) and simply drove faster. He went through a wild maze of corridors, taking turns at random in the hopes of losing the Chompazoid. When the beast's thundering footsteps had become distant enough, Skids converted to robot mode and found an empty storage closet to hide in, where he could gather his thoughts.

    First thing was first: he had to find Viral. As much as he dislike the Decepticon, he was still the only one who knew the facility's layout. And even though he had turned on the group, Skids had the hunch that it had not been Viral's intention to do so.

    Of course, Primus knew where Viral had even gotten to. Or if he was even still alive....

    Suddenly, he heard the sound of movement very close to him. Moving in its direction, he brandished his guns again just as a glowtorch lit up the closet, revealing a slender tan and green femme.

    "No!" she shrieked, covering her face with the arm not holding a torch. "Don't hurt! Please!"

    The femme's meekness gave Skids enough pause to notice the small faded Autobot symbol in her collar area. As he put his weapons away, he held up his hands calmly.

    "Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "I'm an Autobot, just like you."

    "Not like me," she whimpered. "No one like me. Too different. Too strange."

    Ho boy, Skids thought to himself. Seems like everyone's got psychological problems these days.

    "Look," he said aloud. "Can you tell me what happened? Are you all right? How did you escape?"

    "Told me to hide in closet. Said to not come out or talk to anyone unless they have red badge."

    "Who told -- you know what? Forget it." Skids let out an exasperated sigh. "It can wait. Tell me, do you know how to get around this place? I'm trying to free my friends and I could really--"

    Before he could finish, the femme grabbed him by the arm and pulled him aside just as a giant fist smashed through the door.

    "Ha! There you are!" came the Chompazoid's unmistakable voice. "Thought you could hide from ol' Underbite, diddja? Well, my two friends have a few words to say about that!"

    "I'm not in any hurry to hear them out," Skids muttered as he flipped out his shoulder cannons. However, the femme continued to pull on his arm, as if trying to get him to follow her.

    "Come," she hissed. "Not safe here."

    "Of course it's not; we're practically cornered. Where are you trying to take me if he's blocking the door?"

    A small hatch opening in the wall answered him.

    "Oh," he said as the femme started to crawl into it. "Figures."

*  *  *

    The sound of raged yelling brought Viral to a scene that, had he retained any of his emotions, would have looked humorous to him.

    The Chompazoid known as Underbite appeared to have his arm stuck in a storage closet's door, as if he was trying to reach for something. The obscenities he was shouting indicated that he wasn't having much progress.

    "Blasted varmint!" he roared. "When I get my hands on you, I'm gonna twist your tailpipes into a knot and shove your servos so far down your mouth that... that, uh... ah, blast it, I'm just gonna slag you so bad that--!"

    Sneaking up behind the unsuspecting Chompazoid, Viral lunged at Underbite and plunged his fingers into the beast's thick neck. As the large Decepticon's systems shut down and Underbite went into stasis, Viral slipped into the closet and caught sight of a slightly open hatch.

    Whoever this "varmint" was, Viral had an idea or two on who they could be as he opened the hatch and crawled into the small tunnel.

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light V, Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

--The Vis Vitalis--

    "He's dead."

    "Velocity, I don't want you to take this the wrong way," Firestar said as she stood over the offline body of Peritus Maximus. "But I'm pretty sure anyone with a working set of optics would have gathered as much. What I want to know is how he died."

    "That's the problem," Velocity replied. "There aren't any signs of damage at all: no open wounds, no blast marks. It's the same as with Rocket and Photon; it's like their spark just gave up."

    "And is that a regular occurrence?"

    "It's rare but not unheard of. Spontaneous spark failure usually come about if one's contracted a number of diseases or is very long-lived. Peritus was old, but not ancient like Kup -- and Rocket and Photon were only forged recently." 

    Firestar pinched the edge of her helmet crest, closing her eyes as she let out an exasperated noise. "Great. This is just great. We've got some sort of... lethal force on board and we don't what it is or why it's only targeting certain bots. Sooner or later, this ship is going to become a flying plague ship."

    "Have the security cameras shown anything?"

    "I had Skimmer review the footage, but it always seems to cut out right before the death occurs."

    Velocity frowned at this. "Sound to me this is more than just a plague going around."

    "I agree," Firestar murmured, turning to leave the medibay. "I'll have Roadmaster and Javelin put Peritus into cold storage. In the meantime, I want you to give Thunderclash another checkup, make sure he's okay."

    "Given his current condition, I'm not sure how 'okay' he's going to be for much longer."

    "Have some faith, Velocity. After all, he is the one and only Thunderclash."

--Garrus-16--

    "I must give credit where credit's due: you have quite the bearings to show your face here again."

    Viral said nothing as he followed the massive Decepticon in front of him, keeping his gaze to the floor.

    "I mean, after faking your death to get off-planet... surely you realized that to return would have been suicide."

    "Of course I realized that," Viral retorted. "It was never my intention to return here. The Autobots--"

    "Don't tell me: the Autobots forced you to lead them here? Hilarious. Surely imprisonment would have been a better fate."

    If Viral had visible optics, he would have glared with them. "There's no point in obfuscating stupidity, Overlord. I know it was that drone you had installed into me that influenced my choices. That's why I tried to stay locked up in that blasted coffin; I knew it would lead me back here one way or another."

    Overlord looked down at Viral and gave him a grin that the smaller Decepticon found very unsettling. "My, no wonder Gigatron kept you around for your intellect. It's a good thing, then, that he still has use for you."

    Viral looked up at Overlord, surprised. "He does? For what?"

    "During your absence, we were finally able to break our special guest. All we need now are your skills to extract the codes from his brain module."

    "The codes to what?"

    "Aequitas, of course," Overlord said matter-of-factly. "The Autobots' judgment machine. Their greatest shame."

    "And what possible use would you or Gigatron have for it?"

    The Warrior Elite chuckled darkly as he and Viral came to a stop before a steel door. "For Aequitas itself? None at all. It's what's underneath Aequitas -- what it was built to hide -- that is of greater interest."

    Overlord then pulled the door open, which made a grinding creak as it revealed the mutilated mech which it held. Viral had never been much fond of Autobots, but even he would not wish his greatest enemy the condition Fortress Maximus was presently in.

    "Just think," Overlord said as he gingerly pushed Viral towards the comatose warden. "Do this and all charges will be dropped. You will be welcomed back into the fold."

    "What makes you think I want that?" Viral asked.

    Overlord flashed him another grin. "I think you and I both know that the alternative would be much, much worse."

*  *  *

    The first thing Skids knew was that he was awake; whether that was a good thing or not, he was not sure of yet.

    The second thing he knew was that he was trapped in some kind of cocoon. That, he could tell, was definitely not a good thing. Looking around the dark chamber, he saw that he wasn't the only one; nearby in similar predicaments were Rodimus, Nautica, Whirl, Getaway, and Windblade, all five of them unconscious. Brainstorm and Ratchet were nowhere to be seen, which made him even more uneasy. After what he had seen earlier in Garrus-16's rooms, he didn't dare imagine what fates had befallen them.

    Finally, there was the third thing to attract his notice: the sound of music. Right away, he knew it was the tune of the Empyrean Suite. The same tune those mutilated Autobots had been forced to sing to. The same tune that was in his head....

    Hearing voices coming from nearby, Skids thought fast and feigned unconsciousness, dimming his optics enough so that he could still see who was entering the room.

    "--is the most vulnerable of the six," a winged, bat-like mech was saying as he followed a monstrous one into the room. "Her introverted and self-depreciate nature makes her ripe for psychological torture."

    "Nightstrike, I could not care less about your own personal experiments," the other Decepticon growled. "You can play as many 'games' with these Autobots as you want, so long as they're dealt with."

    "Ah, I understand that, Lord Gigatron. However...." Nightstrike's blue optics briefly darted to Skids and the theoretician felt himself tense. "One of the Autobots has proven to be an... interesting case subject."

    "Explain," Gigatron demanded.

    "The fear center of his processor is not projecting any stasis visions of his greatest fears -- or any visions at all. He's not dreaming, so to speak."

    "And why do you think that is?"

    "Well, I'm no mnemosurgeon, but from my readings of his brain wave patterns, there appears to be gaps in his memory. It is a possibility that his greatest fear is what's missing--"

    "Do you intend on going somewhere with this, Nightstrike? Otherwise, you have succeeded only in wasting my time."

    "Please, my lord, let me finish," Nightstrike pleaded. "While his processor didn't project any dreams, they did produce a sound -- or a song, I should say."

    "And what song was that?"

    "The Empyrean Suite."

    A cold silence fell upon the room, one which Skids did not dare break. Gigatron said nothing for what seemed like forever before slowly turning to Nightstrike.

    "Are you sure?"

    "Positive. I would recognize it anywhere."

    Gigatron fell silent again as he appeared to mull over this revelation. Finally, he looked towards Skids, his face devoid of emotion but his eyes full of held back rage.

    "Execute him. Immediately."

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light V, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

--The Lost Light--

    "Radio silence. That's all I'm getting."

    Ultra Magnus pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Can we not go on one mission without something going wrong?"

    "Well, what did you expect from bringing a Decepticon along?" Blaster said wryly. "I'm pretty sure the Nova Cronum Neocybex Dictionary has 'Decepticon' as a synonym for trouble."

    "It doesn't," Magnus muttered.

    "So what do we do?" Drift asked. "Do we send in a rescue team or what?"

    "We wait," Magnus said, after a moment of contemplation. "They could be in an area where communication is not possible. Let's give them thirty minutes before heading down there."

    Drift folded his arms. "I say twenty. Like Blaster said, a Decepticon in a team of Autobots can only mean trouble--"

    "Ironic statement of the cycle, right there," Blaster interjected.

    "--So I'm more willing to bet that they've walked into some sort of trap. The sooner we find out for sure -- whether from Rodimus or not -- the better."

    Magnus sighed reluctantly. "Very well. Twenty minutes it is. Then we decide whether or not to panic."

--Elsewhere--

    Right away, Rodimus knew he was living a nightmare.

    The first thing that tipped him off was the location: Ki-Aleta. The planet that was allegedly home to the fabled relic known as the Magnificence. The last time he set foot on that planet had been over a hundred years ago and he had since sworn to never visit it again.

    Second were the bots he was with: Backbeat, Download, and Gizmo. Three of the bots assigned to his unit. For all intents and purposes, there was no way he could be seeing them all here together (unless someone was pranking him with a time machine briefcase).

    And third, of course, were the first words that came out of Gizmo's mouth as the white mech looked to him.

    "Hot Rod, the holomatter projector is up and running."

    Rodimus cringed at this. Hot Rod. Hate that.

    When he did not immediately respond to Gizmo, Rodimus felt a slap on the back from Backbeat. "Hey, Cybertron to Hot Rod," the brown bot said. "You reading us?"

    "Uh, yeah, yeah. Loud and clear," Rodimus said, fumbling for words. "On to the next stage of the plan. Does everyone know the plan?"

    All three mechs nodded.

    "Well, I don't believe you. Let's run through it one last time to make sure. Download?"

    Rolling his optics, Download said, "Gizmo's set up the holomatter avatars to distract the Omega Guardians at the bunker. Once Backbeat's finished creating the tunnel, you and I will go through it to get into the bunker. Then we get the Magnificence -- if it's there -- and get out of there."

    "Correct," Rodimus said. "All right. Good. Glad we have that all clear."

    "Um, not everything's clear," Gizmo said, suddenly looking concerned as he fiddled with the projector. "The weather's jamming transmissions. The avatars are shorting out."

    Rodimus felt his spark skip a pulse. This was it. This was where everything went down.

    The ground shook. All four Autobots looked towards the distance.

    The Omega Guardians were on their way.

*  *  *

    Everywhere she looked, bright colors flashed and bots of all sorts of shapes and sizes danced to upbeat music. Sights toke these took her way back to her earlier years back on Caminus. Back then, she didn't know about concepts like war or death. But were was one thing she had felt back then that she still felt to this day.

    Melancholy.

    And here, she felt it worse than ever before.

    Naughty Nautica. That's what they used to call her. Naughty Nautica -- for being less interested in the performing arts than expected of most Camiens. If it weren't for the few bots who accepted her for who she was, she would have forever been a social outcast. And that was exactly the case here.

    Lights shone everywhere except for where she sat. Those she had once thought her friends had long since abandoned her. And all she could hear over the blaring music was that stupid name.

    Naughty Nautica. Naughty Nautica.

    She held her head in her hands and silently screamed.

    Slag off, dreams.

*  *  *

    This had to be, in Whirl's opinion, the lamest nightmare ever.

    Sure, to the average mech, the things he was seeing now would come as frightening: seeing bots with multiple spindly arms and freakishly large grins, cackling at you as they tore off your face and hands, while voices in your head taunted and mocked you.

    But he was used to this. This was his life. If this was supposed to be torture, then he could not wait to wake up so he could show whoever was doing this what torture was really all about. The only problem was actually waking up.

    The trouble with dreams was that you almost never had control over them; they simply just happened. But Whirl was the assertive type. If he couldn't have his way, then there was chaos to pay.

    As the scene of his empurata procedure replayed again for the nth time, Whirl took control of the one aspect of the dream that he could: his voice.

    "Tell me," he said to the two Heavies as they dragged him towards what was dubbed the Mutilation Chamber. "What's black and purple all over?"

    Neither of them gave him a response. Not that he was expecting one.

    "I'll give you a hint: it has something to do with a friend of mine. He's big, green, and angry. Incredible, too. You wouldn't like him when he's angry."

    Still nothing. He really hoped this was going to work.

    "What if I told you that this friend of mine is standing right behind that door, ready to hand you your exhaust pipes?"

    "I'm sure," grunted the Heavy known as Anvil.

    Whirl grinned with the face he had so long missed. "Good...."

    The chamber door slid open and standing there, armed to the teeth, was Roadbuster.

    "Because so am I."

*  *  *

    Ratchet could not decide whether or not it was time panic.

   No more than a minute ago, he had been with Rodimus and the others, exploring the horrors within the Decepticon-captured Garrus-16 facility. The next thing he knew, he was being dragged away into the darkness, not even getting the chance to cry out for help.

    Where he was no, he had no clue; the room was pitch-black and he could hardly move. He could hear what sounded like movement and was almost certain that who or whatever it was with him was larger than the average Cybertronian.

    Suddenly, a bright light went on, shining directly into his face. Once his optics had adjusted to it, Ratchet saw who exactly was with him. And it was the very last person he ever wanted to see again for the rest of his life.

    "Pharma?" he exclaimed in a mix of disdain and incredulity. 

    The rogue Autobot greeted him with a wicked grin. "Long time no see, Ratchet. How's life been treating you?"

    Ratchet scowled at him. "At the moment? Horribly."

    Pharma feigned a wince. "Ouch. Tongue still sharp as a scalpel. We ought to do something about that little attitude of yours. Thankfully, my friend is lots of laughs."

    As if on cue, a large shape slithered into Ratchet's perspective. Built with a serpentine form, the gold and orange Decepticon looked down at the restrained medic with menacing eyes, dangerous-looking medical tools, and a mile-wide grin.

    The shrill laughter was the last thing Ratchet heard before darkness consumed him once more.

  

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light V, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

--The Vis Vitalis--

    "Peritus Maximus. I must say, it is an incredibly honor to finally meet you."

    The green and red Autobot chuckled lightly as he followed the red and orange one down one of the ship's many corridors. "You flatter me. But really, the honor should be mine. I have long looked up to your captain as one of the greatest Autobots in history."

    The red femme smiled. "You're not the first and hardly the only one. We have been having plenty of visitors ever since the news got out."

   "I can imagine so," Peritus Maximus said. "I must ask, how did he contract this aliment of his?"

    "Long story. During the war, he contracted a spark failure at the fall of Grindcore and it's only gotten worse ever since our visit to Marasma. Our medic has him confined to his quarters until we can find a cure."

    "Such a pity," Peritus said solemnly. "To have something so tragic happen to one of our greatest... just goes to show that fate can be a cruel mistress. Are you sure he's well enough to see me?"

    "As well as he'll ever be." The two Autobots reached their destination and the red one opened the door to the captain's quarters. "Just make it quick. He's expected back in the medibay in two hours."

    "I can make it less than one. Thank you, Firestar." Peritus Maximus stepped into the room and the door slid shut behind him, leaving him alone with its only other occupant.

    Across the room, spread out on a med-slab and hooked up to a variety of life-support machines was the idol of every Autobot. Crimson eyes of justice glowed against his honorable golden face, though they were far dimmer than Peritus remembered. A monitor on his left displayed his spark pulse, which was going far too slow for anyone's liking.

    Peritus carefully walked up to the bedridden Autobot and pulled up a seat, taking it on the right side.

    "It's been a while, old friend," he said solemnly. "Too long, in fact; the last time I saw you, it was on Devola -- or was it Dabola? I forget. Cycle 9083; over seven hundred years ago. It was when we defeated and contained Bloodron."

    The ailing Autobot smiled faintly in remembrance but said nothing. Shifting into a more comfortable position, Peritus went on.

    "Firestar was telling me about how you contacted your condition at Grindcore. You know, I had pleaded to High Command to be transferred there, after hearing you were stationed there and up against that... that monster. But apparently Verminator and his petro-rabbits took higher priority."

    Peritus shook his head in bitterness as he recalled his arguments with Ultra Magnus and other superiors. "Over two hundred years and I'm still not over it. Of course, I was going through a difficult time; I was still despaired over losing Pious, Halonix had stopped speaking with me, and I had allowed Orga to fall to the Decepticons... the idea of losing you as well did horrors to my resolve. I ended up having to see Rung twice a week."

    He fell silent again, the steady beeping of the spark monitor being the only sound in the room. Suddenly, the indisposed Autobot lifted an arm, causing Peritus to move with a start. He then realized, by seeing the outstretched palm before him, that the other Autobot desired to communicate with him via the speaking hand technique. Pressing his own palm against the proffered one, Peritus took his partner's other hand and the two Autobots proceeded to commune in this manner.

    <You needn't waste your energy like this, old friend,> Peritus expressed. <Primus know that you must conserve it.>

    <My time is short enough that it makes little difference,> came the reply. <Besides, as my closest friend and most trusted ally, you are worth the risk.>

    <I am honored that you feel that way. In that case, what do you wish to convey to me?>

    <Look behind you.>

    Arching an optic ridge, Peritus did as told.

    Then he screamed.

*  *  *

    Captain's Log #1,992

    Thunderclash is still bedridden. Velocity is doing everything she can to keep him online, but she admits that her medical skills are not exactly up-to-snuff (no surprise there; it took her ten tries to pass her exams). I'm having Javelin keep an optic out for any other medics -- specifically those with more training -- out among the stars.

    In the meantime, the morgue keeps piling up. Ever since we left Marasma and Thunderclash's condition started worsening, we've been losing crew members left and right. First our pilot Vertex died while at the flight controls, which could have killed us all had Acceleron not taken the helm. Then Photon collapsed while speaking with Roadmaster, Proxima found Rocket's corpse strewn across her work table... needless to say, it's got everyone paranoid. Proxima herself thinks our ship might have contracted something at Marasma, though she has yet to figure out what. Ideally, the answers would lie on the planet itself, but I dare not take us back there, lest it make everything worse.

    Until we get to the bottom of this, we'll just have to -- wait, what was that? It sounded like screaming... coming from the captain's quarters. By the Forge, don't let it be....

    I'll finish this later. There are far more pressing concerns at hand.

    This is first mate Firestar, signing off. Solus protect us all.

LEFT TO THEIR OWN DEVICES

Part II: This Fate Called Life