Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIV, Chapter Eleven

 CHAPTER ELEVEN

Planet X, Flame’s lab

Flame was in the dark — in more ways than one.

The lights in his lab had went out around the same time as the God Gun’s activation, which he had felt when the entire planet shook violently. When the shaking stopped, he tried to switch the lights back on but could not get them to do more than flicker for a few seconds. Annoyed, he had tried to leave, only to find that the door was locked and refused to accept any of his clearance codes. He then tried calling one of Liege Maximo’s “Second Generations” that staffed the facility, but static was all he got.

That was when he heard the thunder.

He had no idea what the sound could have been, but it sounded like a planet being torn to pieces. He could only assume that it was one of the five replica Cybertrons that orbited Planet X… and only one thing came to mind that could have pulled off such a stunt.

Cursing to himself, Flame carefully made his way back over to his operational table, using his high beams to navigate through the darkness. Laying on the table was someone whom he had been instructed to operate on for “future purposes.” Flame had no idea what those future purposes were or how long it would be before they became necessary. However, he couldn’t help but feel that the present took precedence over any hypothetical futures that the Grand Architect had in mind.

Even so, he knew he was going to regret this.

Within seconds of reactivating his subject, Flame instantly regretted his decision as a large purple claw found its way around his neck and hoisted him up in the air.

“WHERE AM I?” Scorponok bellowed.

“Y—you’re on… Planet X,” Flame managed to croak out, wincing as the claw tightened its grip on his neck. “Was… instructed to… rebuild you.”

“Rebuild me?” Scorponok snarled as he sat up, still holding the ex-Autobot scientist in his grasp. “For what purpose? I am no test animal.”

“Wasn’t… told. Just… following orders.” Realizing that the Decepticon’s grip still wasn’t lessening, Flame blurted out, “The Beast!”

Scorponok’s expression briefly turned into one of confusion. “The what?”

“The Beast. It’s… it’s here. It’s destroying… the God Gun.”

At this, Scorponok finally released Flame and the scientist dropped to the floor, landing on his knees. As Flame massaged his dented neck, Scorponok rose fully from the operational table and walked towards the door.

“I suppose the Grand Architect is not as ‘grand’ as he claims to be,” he muttered. “He has already failed what he had set out to do.”

Flame watched as Scorponok threw a fist into the door and punched it out of the wall. As he started to stride out, Flame scrambled to his feet and started to run after him.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“To find a way out,” Scorponok growled. “Where else?”

“The Symbol Ships should still be outside,” Flame said, falling in step behind the large Decepticon. “I have the clearance codes for Tyrest’s ship.”

“Give them to me.”

Flame blinked. “Um, pardon?”

Scorponok turned around and grabbed Flame roughly by the shoulder, pulling him closer. “Give. Me. The codes.”

To scared to speak, Flame silently transmitted the clearance codes from his processor into Scorponok’s. Once he was done, Scorponok released him though he continued to loom over the ex-Autobot.

“Thank you, Flame,” Scorponok said, eerily calm. “You were rather useful for an Autobot.”

Flame did not pick up on the use of the past tense until Scorponok started to raise his arm. “No!” he cried, optics dilating. “I… I can still be of use to you! I know things that the Grand Architect hasn’t told you!”

It was a lie; one that Scorponok clearly was not buying.

“I no longer have an interest in the ‘Grand’ Architect and his schemes,” he growled. “Only my own.”

Just as the arm was about to come down, Flame transformed into his tank mode and fired into Scorponok’s legs. His shots barely made a dent in the Decepticon’s armor plating and Scorponok’s claw descended undeterred, smashing Flame into the floor. The ex-Autobot moved his treads in an attempt to escape but they simply screeched in protest. 

The last thing he saw through his visual receptors was Scorponok raising his arm once more, a wicked grin spread across his face.

The claw came down and Flame saw no more.

*  *  *

“Get to the ships! They’re our only chance!”

What had once been a standoff had spiraled into chaos. Autobots, Decepticons, Star Seekers, and others were fighting their way through each other in an attempt to reach their respective ships. The Symbol Ships that had been utilized by the Grand Architect’s forces, as well as the Lost Light, laid straight ahead. However, Tyrannicon’s forces were not keen on letting them go anywhere.

“There is no escape for you!” Tyrannicon cried as his sword sliced through a Monstercon that had entered his path. “The Quintessons have called for your deaths, and die you all shall!”

Star Saber grimaced as he clashed with a pair of identical Cybertronians, his sword interlocking with their tridents. As he wrestled to free his blade, Star Saber heard a gun fire over his shoulder and hit one of the trident-wielders in the head, blowing it to smithereens. As their weapon clattered to the ground, Skids jumped in and grabbed the trident, impaling the other Cybertronian’s face with it.

“Thanks,” Star Saber said, silently acknowledging the fact that there were plenty more of those where that came from.

“Don’t mention it,” Skids replied, shooting down a white jet-former that had been flying towards him. “However, I don’t see how we’re gonna reach the Lost Light in time. These guys keep piling in and that… shadow monster doesn’t appear to be taking his time.”

Star Saber looked up to see that the shadow monster in question had already destroyed two more of the replica Cybertrons, leaving just two remaining in addition to the planet they were on. The path to the ships was also no clearer than it had been when this battle had started.

“Wonderful,” he muttered. “We’re just going to need to double our efforts and hope for the best.”

“I think tripling our efforts would get better results,” said Skids. Another flier in olive green lunged at him from behind only to be blasted by an over-the-shoulder shot. “Only slightly, though.”

“Feel free to put that theory to the test,” Star Saber responded as he charged head-first into the awaiting swarm.

*  *  *

“You know… this reminds me of the time—”

“Your stupid stories can wait, Overhaul!” Stormshot shouted as she unloaded her guns on an oncoming swarm of Sharkticons. “Can’t you see we’re all trying not to die?!”

Overhaul frowned at his comrade as pulled his claws out of a green Cybertronian flier. “I can see that,” he said calmly. “But focusing too strongly on one thing can make you lose focus on others.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Stormshot asked, keeping her optics on the Sharkticons.

Overhaul fired a blast of energy from his chest, which shot just over Stormshot’s head. She looked up just as the blast hit a drab-colored helicopter and sent it plummeting to the ground, crashing into the Sharkticons.

“Yup,” Overhaul said, smiling to himself. “Just like the Battle of Iacon.”

Stormshot sighed as she shook her head. “Was there someone like me that you lectured back then?”

“Oh, he wasn’t the one doin’ the lecturin’.”

Both Autobots turned in time to see a teal pickup truck drive towards them, barreling through a pair of Cybertronians that had been standing in its way. Transforming to robot mode, the newcomer drew a rifle and began unloading it on the enemy forces.

“You can thank me for him turnin’ out the way he has,” Kup grunted.

Overhaul let out a hearty laugh. “Ah, long time no see, old-timer! We all thought we had lost you!”

“Keep this up and you won’t have to lose me again.”

“Now that we can agree on,” Overhaul said, preparing another blast from his chest. “Just like the Battle of Delta Pavonis Five, eh?”

“Ya’ mean with the petro-rabbits? Yeah, I can see that. But you shoulda’ been with me on Beta Four; there were all of these Ick-Yaks and….”

Dear lord, Stormshot thought to herself as she drowned out the conversation. Primus made two of them.

*  *  *

“All units mobilize! Don’t make me repeat myself! Move, move, move!”

Hiding in the shadows of the doorway, Wheelie watched from afar as the Lunarians marched out of the facility and onto the massive battlefield outside. They had already forgotten about him and appeared to be more concerned with the giant shadow monster that was destroying planets. He supposed he couldn’t really blame them.

He looked around for any sign of Wipe-Out, but the mini-bot had apparently vanished in all of the confusion. As Wheelie considered whether or not to join in on the fight, or if he would even be of any use, he caught sight of a lone Sharkticon breaking off from Tyrannicon’s forces and running towards him. Wheelie drew his knife, bracing himself for combat—

“Friend Wheelie! It is Gnaw!”

Wheelie allowed himself to relax and smiled as he sheathed his knife. The Sharkticon finished his approach and Wheelie greeted him with a hug. “I am relieved to see you, my friend,” he said, patting the Sharkticon on the head. “I was worried that I would not see you before the end.”

“Gnaw is scared,” the Sharkticon said quietly. “Does not know what is happening.”

“Stay calm,” Wheelie whispered, trying to keep his voice steady as he witnessed the shadow monster attack one of the metal planets in the sky. “We will find a way out of this qualm.”

He could only wish that he believed his own words.

*  *  *

“Follow me, Decepticons! Onward to victory!”

Stockade’s cry fell on deaf audio receptors as the members of Mayhem fought their way through Tyrannicon’s army. Most of the Monstercons were following Steel Jaw’s lead, not that Stockade was surprised. The Star Seekers had already broken off and were trying to clear their own path; their seemingly endless army of Dread Pirates certainly seemed to be giving them an edge.

That only left Stockade with the Chimeracons and remaining Decepticons that made up Leo Prime’s failed movement, and even they seemed to be doing things their own way rather than heed his orders. This frustrated him more than the fight itself; had his prowess as a tactical leader truly fallen that far since his imprisonment? Had he lost his voice as a decorated military officer?

No. He refused to accept such a reality. The Decepticons would not have lasted as long as they had throughout the Great War if it were not for him. He would reclaim his command, or die trying.

“SMOLDER!” Stockade called out to a red axe-wielding Decepticon. “FALL BEHIND ME!”

“What for?” Smolder responded with a sneer as he swung his axe into an Allicon’s head.

“I am your superior,” Stockade growled. “You will do as I command — no questions asked!”

“Get fragged. I’m trying to survive here.”

Stockade rolled his hands into fists. “If you will not obey me, then an example shall be made of you!”

Just as he started to make his way over to the disobedient Decepticon, Stockade spotted a large figure jump from the edge of the Quintesson facility and land in the middle of the battlefield, crushing a handful of Sharkticons in the process. Stockade stopped his tracks and narrowed his eyes at the new arrival.

“Leo Prime.” The general spoke the name with distaste. “Here to revel in your failure, are you?”

The former leader of the Maximals rose to his full height, a large sword drawn in his hand. “I am here to help.”

“Help?” Stockade laughed sharply. “Your ‘help’ has been useless ever since you allowed yourself to be captured by Scorponok back on Earth. Your ‘help’ will do no good here.”

“Who says I was here to help you?”

Stockade scoffed. “What, you think the Autobots will accept your help? After everything you’ve done?”

Leo Prime said nothing, turning his back to the Decepticon general to face the enemy forces.

“What, at a loss for words?” Stockade mocked. “You’re a coward, Leo Prime! Always have been! You don’t even deserve that title!”

“You’re right,” the Maximal murmured. “I don’t.”

Sheathing his sword, he transformed into his alternate mode, taking on the form of a mechanical white lion.

“But maybe after today — if I live — I will.”

With that, he charged into the sea of Sharkticons and Allicons, mowing his way through them with his claws and teeth. Stockade watched him go before returning his attention to (what barely qualified for) his forces. Once again, they were all oblivious to his very presence. It was as if he didn’t even exist in their eyes.

“Fine,” Stockade growled to himself. “Then I will treat all of you the same.”

He turned back around to face Tyrannicon’s forces… only to find Tyrannicon himself standing before him. The Sharkticon leader grinned as he raised and pointed his arm-mounted cannon at Stockade.

If anyone had bore witness to the demise of General Stockade of Tesarus, none of them would come forth when pressed. 

*  *  *

Rodimus Prime stood on the roof of the Quintessons’ prison facility along with Vector Prime and Convoy, watching the chaotic battle that was taking place down below. Rodimus had expected to find Star Saber and the others still in their cells, making this endeavor relatively easy.

This was going to be nowhere near even the loosest definition of “easy.”

“We need to find a way to separate them,” Vector Prime said. “Otherwise, if I open a dimensional portal, a whole swarm of Sharkticons and Allicons are going to land wherever it leads to.”

“How about you open a portal onto the Lost Light?” Rodimus asked, pointing to the ship in question up ahead. “The three of us can probably fly it and pick up Star Saber and his crew.”

“It’s worth a shot,” said Convoy. “Besides, I don’t think we have much time.”

As he said this, the shadowy form of Unicron finished destroying the forth replica Cybertron, leaving only one in its path before it reached Planet X. Without needing further prompting, Vector Prime drew his sword Rhisling and was about to open a dimensional portal when Convoy suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Wait!” he cried, pointing towards the Lost Light.

Rodimus lowered a telescopic visor over his optics to get a closer look at his former ship. Standing on top of it was a large, brutish figure with a spiked club in their hands. The club glowed with energy as the figure held it high over their head.

“NO!” Rodimus’ cry came too little, too late as Bruton brought his club down onto the Lost Light.

The ensuing explosion lit up the battlefield like a rising sun.

*  *  *

“I know it must be maddening.”

Primus groaned as he struggled to pull himself out of the wall he had been thrown into. Lord Imperious continued to stand in front of him, his attention divided between the Grand Architect and the visual of Unicron on the viewscreen.

“To devote nearly your whole life trying to accomplish something, only to have it spat back in your face….” The Destructon leader shook his head in pity. “I almost feel sorry for you.”

Primus’ singular optic narrowed as he glared at Lord Imperious. “I’ve always had a suspicion that you and your Destructons were plotting behind my back,” he muttered. “I even told Amalgamous Prime as much.”

“Yes, and look at how much that has helped you!” Lord Imperious spread his arms, gesturing to Unicron and Amalgamous’ broken corpse. “Not one bit!”

“Has everything I’ve done been a result of your manipulations?” Primus went on, doing everything he could to ignore Lord Imperious’ taunts. “The Talisman? The Emberstone?”

“Of course they were. If I did not have a use for such items, why else would I have directed you and your agents to retrieve them?”

“But… you said the Talisman would be used to repel the Beast. If that was never your goal, then what purpose does it have?”

Lord Imperious chuckled. “Think about it for a minute. I would say that it is safe to assume that my intentions are opposite to yours.”

Primus had no response for this. His gaze drifted to the viewscreen just as Unicron’s shadowy form obliterated the last of the five replica Cybertrons, leaving Planet X for last.

“Now what?” he asked, his voice no louder than a whisper.

“Now?” Lord Imperious replied. “Now the Alignment begins.” 

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIV, Chapter Ten

 CHAPTER TEN

Planet X

As far as breakouts went, Stockade had had better.

The breakout from Garrus-16 had certainly been one of the better ones. While he had been imprisoned there on his own accord in order to escape Megatron’s wrath, the pleasure he took in killing and torturing the Autobots stationed there after Gigatron had seized control was a sensation he had yet to replicate ever since. Slaughtering his way through hordes of Sharkticons and Allicons was definitely nowhere near holding a candle to that.

He wasn’t sure if any of the other Mayhems and Star Seekers knew where they were headed. While they had already made their way out of Rexian’s arena, they still had yet to find an exit to whatever facility they were in. At this point, he wasn’t sure if there even was an exit; for all he knew, this entire “planet” could have been a space station and the only way out was into the vacuum of space.

As he brought his fist down onto the last Sharkticon of the most recent wave, Stockade looked up to see where they were at. Nondescript Hallway #120 was the only thing he could gather, meaning that they had to keep pressing forward.

“This is goin’ nowhere,” groused Thunderhoof, pulling Allicon remains from his antlers. “There’s gotta be an easier way out of this place.”

“Feel free to put any proposals on the table, dear friend,” Steel Jaw said dryly.

“How ‘bout we start tearing our way through?” suggested Underbite, already chewing on the corner of the wall. “If no one else volunteers, I will.”

“Unfortunately, Underbite, I doubt your ravenousness will get us far,” said Steel Jaw. “I say we keep going. This path has to lead us somewhere.”

“Sure it will,” muttered Fracture. “It’ll lead us straight into another horde of Sharkticons. I say we go with Underbite’s idea.”

“That’ll just bring this whole place down on top of us!” cried Undertow. “We should follow Steel Jaw.”

Stockade glared at them all. “Oh, sure. Don’t ask the Decepticon general who has more tactical experience than any of you combined. That just wouldn’t make any sense.”

Steel Jaw sneered back at him. “Don’t delude yourself, ‘General.’ If you were truly as cunning as you make yourself out to be, you wouldn’t even be in this mess.”

Stockade rolled his hands into fists as he stormed up to Steel Jaw, his visor flashing. “Choose your next words carefully, Monstercon,” he growled. “The last bot who spoke out against me received a fist straight through their chestplate. Unless you would like to join him, I suggest you—”

He was cut off by an enraged yell coming from the bovine Monstercon Terrashock. Stockade and Steel Jaw barely moved away in time as Terrashock charged past them and crashed through the wall, tearing through the metal. Beyond it, Stockade and the others could see a star-lit sky, dominated by five metal planetoids, over a city of glistening silver. And populating that city was well over several thousand Sharkticons, Allicons, and even standard Cybertronians, all gathered outside the facility with their weapons drawn and pointed at the Decepticon escapees.

“Well,” Fracture said quietly, “at least we got what we wanted.”

*  *  *

“This day keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?” commented Roller as he and the other Crusadercons stood before a gathered horde of assorted Cybertronians.

After their unexpected “rescue” by Lord Imperious, Star Saber and his crew of 100+ Crusadercons had been forced to fight their way out of whatever facility the Quintessons had been holding them in, cutting through swathes of Sharkticons and Allicons. After Overhaul had blasted a large enough hole through the wall, freedom seemed to have finally been within grasp.

That feeling had lasted for all about 0.5 seconds.

Star Saber was silent as he surveyed the scene before him. In addition to even more Sharkticon and Allicons, there were a good number of what appeared to be standard Cybertronians, though many of them shared identical designs with one another. Only a select handful stood out to him, seemingly led by a large teal and gray bot with a rocket launcher attached to his shoulder. 

“We can take them on,” Wing Saber whispered to him. “There’s over a hundred of us, aren’t there?”

“Yes, but not all of us are combatants,” Star Saber replied. “For every Whirl, there’s at least one Swerve.”

“I’m not even gonna bother arguing with that,” murmured Swerve, hiding behind Skids.

The crowd shifted as a large figure emerged to stand in front of them. Clad in brown and bright blue armor, the warrior had a finned appearance that echoed that of the Sharkticons while carrying a build that was not unlike that of the Decepticon leader Megatron. In his hand was a large purple sword, which he held aloft to his side as a sinister grin split his blue face.

“I must congratulate you all for making it this far,” said the Sharkticon leader Admiral Tyrannicon. “It is not often that prisoners of the Quintesson Empire leave their trial with their lives. Unfortunately, I’m afraid that you have exited the courtroom only to walk straight onto death row.”

“I fail to see what you gain from killing us as opposed to simply letting us leave,” Star Saber replied. “The person who freed us suggested we’re in no position to stop whatever is happening.”

Tyrannicon shifted at this, his grin turning into a scowl. “Yes, I am aware of your… unlikely rescuer. I must admit that even I am unbeknownst to Lord Imperious’ intentions and reasons for letting you free.”

“So why not just let us go then?” asked Wing Saber. “He’s your boss, isn’t he?”

“The Destructons are master to none of us,” Tyrannicon snarled. “My loyalty is to the Quintessons and them alone. It is their will that you Cybertronians are brought back to heel, and so it shall be!”

The Sharkticon leader raised his blade and his army positioned themselves to attack. In response, Star Saber and the others brandished their weapons and prepared themselves for what was to come.

What came was something none of them were prepared for.

One by one, the stars began to wink out of existence. A massive shadow fell over the planet and the replica Cybertron that surrounded it. Whatever illumination they had been providing was quickly extinguished, plunging the planet into near total darkness with only the glow of the robots’ optical sensors providing any light.

“What the hell is going on?” Tyrannicon snarled.

The answer came in the form of a large dark shape penetrating through one of the replica Cybertrons and obliterating it, leaving behind nothing but large chunks of debris.

Only Brainstorm, the Crusadercons’ self-proclaimed “Genius,” could supply the others with a single word that appropriately described the situation: “Bullocks.”

*  *  *

Rodimus Prime did not want to believe what he was seeing.

The shape was unmistakable. It had been replicated countless times in murals and statues and he, as well as pretty much everyone he knew, had seen it for themselves no more than two years ago. While it was no longer mechanical and instead in the form of a shadowy, almost cloud-like figure, Rodimus would have recognized it anywhere. 

The long, curling horns on its cranium and shoulders, its wing-like cape, even just the sheer size of it… all undeniably visual traits of the Chaos-Bringer Unicron.

“Impossible,” Rodimus found himself saying under his breath. “Unicron was destroyed.”

“Indeed he was,” replied Lord Imperious. “His body, in any case. The rest of him lived on in the Dead Universe, which the Grand Architect here has kindly opened a portal to.”

“No.” Primus was shaking his head, appearing to be as horrified as Rodimus was feeling. “The God Gun was supposed to repel the Beast, not to free it!”

“And yet, here we are.” Lord Imperious inclined his head to the Grand Architect. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

As the Destructon leader let the question hang in the air, the shadowy form of Unicron lunged out of its portal and threw a fist into one of the replica Cybertrons that made up the God Gun, obliterating it instantly. Startled out of his stupor, Primus ran over to the main terminal and moved his hands desperately over the control panel.

“Maybe I can push him back in! There should be enough of the ores to—”

“I don’t think so,” Lord Imperious calmly interjected. “Even if there was enough, it would only make him stronger. The Regenesis ores were specifically chosen for this very operation. Trying to use them to undo it would be… ill-advised.”

Primus rolled his hands into fists as he whirled to face Lord Imperious. “You used me,” he growled. “All this time, you’ve been manipulating me into bringing this… this monster back into existence!”

“Well done,” Lord Imperious said dryly. “It’s only taken you nine thousand years to realize this.”

“You will pay for this!” Primus raised his hands at the Destructon, glowing with energy. “Gods are not meant to be trifled with—”

“Oh, please.” Lord Imperious waved a hand and Primus went flying into a wall, the impact strong enough to create a deep imprint in it. “It was amusing at first, but now you’re just acting pathetic.”

As Primus writhed in pain, Rodimus Prime struggled against the energy rings that binded him. He glanced over at Liege Maximo and Amalgamous Prime, both of whom were silently watching events unfold with unreadable expressions.

“Were you in on this to?” he called out to them. “Was this what you wanted? Or did Lord Whatshisface here deceive you, too?”

Liege Maximo met Rodimus’ gaze but said nothing. Amalgamous Prime’s optics were shifting between Lord Imperious and the defeated Primus, his face displaying a concert of different emotions. Uncertainty shifted to grim acceptance before converting into irritation and then—

“This isn’t right,” he muttered.

Lord Imperious tilted his head towards the Shifter Prime. “Come again?”

“My loyalty has been to Adaptus and him alone,” Amalgamous went on. “From the day I was forged from Luna One’s hot spot, I have been dedicated to helping him fulfill his plan, the endgame of which was to repel the Beast. Not… not this.”

“And?” Lord Imperious replied, sounding impassive. “Do you honestly expect me to care?”

“No,” Amalgamous said darkly. “But I do expect you to care about this.”

He raised an arm and pressed a button near his wrist. Suddenly, the energy rings that had been binding Rodimus and Convoy vanished, freeing their limbs. The ancient Prime then reached behind his back and drew a shimmering blue blade, which he handed to Vector Prime.

“We Primes may have had our differences, but that will not stop us from standing up against those who align themselves with the Chaos Bringer.” Amalgamous brought out his scythe and raised it in a defensive position. “Your first mistake was tricking our god. Your second was thinking we would stand by and do nothing.”

Lord Imperious stared at the Primes, continuing to look unfazed. “You think I am aligned with Unicron?”

Amalgamous gestured to the viewscreen. “Is that not proof enough in of itself?”

“I am aligned with no one.” Lord Imperious’ eyes flashed with anger as he spread his wings, splitting his two arms into sets of three. “I am Lord Imperious Delirious.”

His face started to shift, panels moving and sliding away from each other. Amalgamous let out a cry as he charged towards the Destructon, scythe raised high. Lord Imperious’ face splayed open and the Prime immediately screamed as he was faced with the hideous visage that laid beneath. Several eyes of various colors blinked rapidly within Lord Imperious’ maw, surrounded by razor-sharp teeth. Rodimus, Convoy, and Vector instinctively looked away while Amalgamous fell to his knees, unable to move any further.

“Make it stop!” he cried, clutching his head. “MAKE IT STOP!”

“With pleasure.” Liege Maximo stepped forward and, before any of the other Primes could stop him, brought a large fist down upon Amalgamous. The Shifter Prime’s body made a sickening crunch as it collapsed in on itself, Maximo’s fist grinding all of his internal components into dust. When he was done, all that was left of Amalgamous was a hunk of broken metal that could barely qualify as a corpse.

Lord Imperious’ face closed up again, though he kept his wings and bladed arms spread. His gaze fell on Rodimus and the others, a malicious gleam in his eyes.

“Would anyone else attempt to fill in his shoes?”

Before Rodimus could even think of what to do next, Vector swung his sword and a portal suddenly opened beneath Rodimus and Convoy’s feet. The two of them fell through the portal and Vector Prime dived in after them, closing the dimension gate before either Liege Maximo and Lord Imperious could take pursuit.

“We don’t have much time,” Vector said as the three Primes floated in the endless void. “We have to return to Cybertron and warn them before it is too late.”

“I don’t see much good anyone will be able to do without the Matrix,” Rodimus replied. “Primus still has it.”

Vector shook his head. “The Matrix alone won’t be enough to repel that… thing.”

“It’s already defeated Unicron once—”

“Yes, when Unicron had a solid body. With the form he is in now, I am not so sure.”

Rodimus frowned. “Well, before we go anywhere, we need to rescue the other prisoners. A good two hundred of them are Autobots who served under me when I was captain of the Lost Light.”

“I’ve already broadcast a signal to any remaining members of the Convoy Corps,” said Convoy. “I know at least one bot who should have received it….”

“Let’s hope it does some good then,” Vector Prime said grimly. “As it stands, we’re going to need all of the help we can get….” 

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIV, Chapter Nine

 CHAPTER NINE

Cybertron, Maccadam’s Old Oil House

“We’re closed for the night! Everybody out! Out!”

Maccadam disregarded the confused and angry noises coming from the remaining patrons as he quickly made his way to the room behind the bar. He had enough faith in Ebrius and the rest of the crew that they would get everyone out in a safe and efficient manner.

Slamming the door shut behind him, Maccadam hurried down the corridor that led him deep beneath the Oil House, down paths that no one but him had been down in the thousands of years the Oil House had been here. They eventually led him to a chamber that he never thought he would be forced to return to for as long as he lived.

Thousands of years ago, during the short-lived peace in the Age of the Primes, Iaconus had been one of the Titans that reawakened following the Treaty of Crystal City. Many of the Primes were familiar with the legends that surrounded Iaconus, particularly his status as a “Warrior Titan.” This naturally made him a subject of interest for the barbaric Megatronus, who quickly attempted to claim Iaconus for his tribe. The other Primes opposed this, seeing an alliance between the two as a dangerous combination, and instead suggested that Maccadam — Alchemist Prime as he was known then — be the one to ally with the Titan, in the hopes that his peaceful nature would be an appropriate balance for the ancient warrior.

Megatronus, of course, had objected to this but was overruled by the others. Even Liege Maximo had backed the proposition, for reasons that remained unclear to this day.

Once it was decided, Alchemist had extended his offer of an alliance to Iaconus and, much to the other Primes’ relief, the Titan had accepted. Even Alchemist was surprised with how smoothly they got along from that point onward.

Then, Antilla happened.

Around 250 years after their alliance had been formed, Prima had proposed that the Primes extend their reach beyond Cybertron and begin an interstellar colonization mission. Among the first worlds that they made contact with was a world in the Antillian system, not far from Cybertron. Onyx Prime and Megatronus had been sent to spearhead the colonization effort, flanked by the Omega Sentinels and the Titans Nemesis and Iaconus. The latter had come at the behest of Megatronus, which Alchemist Prime only agreed to if he was brought along.

To this day, Maccadam wished he had rejected the request.

Contact with the native Antillans did not go as plan and the “colonization” quickly turned into an invasion. The Omega Sentinels laid waste to the planet and Iaconus, for whom conflict was second nature, was quick to join them. Despite his best efforts, Alchemist Prime was unable to stop the Titan’s onslaught and the conflict was only brought to an end when the Antillans activated a weapon that would wipe out all life on the planet, forcing the Cybertronians to flee.

Upon returning to Cybertron, the other Primes were informed of what had happened and the decision was made to put Iaconus into permanent stasis. Naturally, the Titan was resistant to this idea and it took the force of all thirteen Primes, the Omega Sentinels, and even some of the other Titans to put him down for good. Iaconus was subsequently buried beneath Cybertron in the site that would one day become the city of Iacon, unwittingly named for the fabled Titan.

Only the Primes and anyone else involved knew of the Titan’s true fate, while the rest of Cybertron — including Titan Masters such as Sovereign — was informed that Iaconus had been among those killed during the Battle of Antilla. For the next several thousands of years, Alchemist Prime — now Maccadam — had harbored this secret of his and dared not share it with a single spark; not even with those he considered his trusted confidants, such as Ebrius.

That, of course, was all about to change.

Maccadam spared a moment to calm his cooling fans as he stood in Iaconus’ command center. He wasn’t surprised that he was still questioning himself whether or not this was the right course of action. Deep down, however, he knew that he had no other choice. The Lenses had showed him what was happening, and what was going to happen if he did not act now.

Before there could be another second of hesitation, Maccadam accessed the main computer and woke the sleeping giant.

*  *  *

The ground thundered as Fortress Maximus rose into his robot mode. Down below, Autobots were scurrying around his feet as they called for him to stand down. He paid no heed to their pleas as he instead set his sights on the point of his consternation.

Vividly did he recall the time when he and his fellow Titans had been forced to put down their brother Iaconus during the Age of the Primes. It had pained him to have been put in such a situation, but he knew deep down that Iaconus was a threat to the peace that the Titans and the Primes had fought to maintain… even if the Primes themselves would eventually undo that peace themselves.

The fact that Iaconus was even still alive was a secret that Fortress Maximus had been forced to keep for thousands of years, even from the Titan Masters that he held in his trust. He had not taken into account that someone like Sovereign would have eventually discovered the truth; perhaps it was his own fault for not hiding it better.

Of course, none of it mattered now. Only the present did.

As Fortress Maximus began to step in the direction of Maccadam’s Old Oil House, he could already see that the building was starting to shift… albeit not to transform. At least, not yet. He recognized a space bridge activation when he saw one and knew exactly what Iaconus was about to do. It was simply a question of where he was going.

Fortunately, Fortress Maximus had a way of finding out exactly that.

As Iaconus entered the last stage of teleportation, Fortress Maximus began tracing the energy traces and made his internal calculations before activating his own space bridge. Autobot fliers circled around him in an attempt to stop him, as if that was going to do any good.

Within the span of a few seconds, both Titans were gone.

*  *  *

“Can I just say… that I’m really sick of Titans?”

No one responded to Punch’s remark, though he was pretty certain they were sharing in his frustration with the present situation. Windblade in particular was staring in the spot that Fortress Maximus once was before he had transformed and teleported away, along with Maccadam’s Old Oil House. Rising from that spot was Dai Atlas, rubbing his head as he was helped to his feet by a pair of Autobots.

“Do you know what just happened?” Windblade asked her fellow councilor as he started to walk towards her and the audience that had gathered around the scene.

“I… don’t remember,” Dai Atlas muttered. “Last thing I can recall is Cerebros showing me the Prowl clone and then… nothing.”

“He must’ve been shadow-played,” Punch said. “Are there any mnemosurgeons on record?”

“Only one that comes to mind is Stylor, one of the Titan Masters.” Windblade glanced at Punch, noticing his expression shadowing. “You don’t think they’re behind this, do you?”

“I do, actually. When we visited Maccadam’s, their leader — Sovereign, is it? — barged in and threw a fit over someone named ‘Iaconus.’ We never did find out what that was all about.”

“Iaconus?” Windblade repeated the name, a quizzical look crossing her features. “That name sounds familiar….”

“I’m guessing he’s another Titan,” Punch went on, nodding in the direction of where Maccadam’s had just been. “A Titan that everyone’s favorite bartender has been hiding for Primus knows how long.”

“And we have no way of knowing where they went,” Windblade muttered. “Fantastic.”

“I take it we don’t have any other Titans on reserve?”

Windblade shook her head. “Metroplex is with the Earthforce, and we now have no way of reaching him.”

“I’m sure we can send a message to Optimus Prime and tell him what has happened,” said Dai Atlas. “There’s no need to give up on hope just yet.”

“Maybe not,” Punch said. “But what are we supposed to do now? Just twiddle our servos?”

Dai Atlas glanced at him. “If you have any suggestions, then I’m open to hearing them.”

“Fine, here’s one.” Punch stepped up to Dai Atlas until they were mere inches apart, unperturbed by the fact that the councilor was much taller than him. “How about we get off our afts and actually do something about this instead of crying to Prime.”

“Punch,” Windblade started to say in a warning tone.

Punch held up a hand to her. “Don’t start with me, Camien. I know your type, as well as Dai Atlas’; you’d rather sit around in your council chambers and do your political maneuvering while you leave bots like me to risk our necks going deep behind enemy lines and getting our afts handed to us.”

“It’s not like that at all,” Windblade retorted. “Both Dai Atlas and I are just as capable as combatants as we are leaders. Both of us were there for the battles against Unicron and Thunderwing.”

“That’s great and all, but I’m not seeing those bots,” Punch said. “I’m just seeing two politicians who would much rather react than act. This is the third time in as many years that Cybertron has been threatened by some mysterious force. First it was Unicron. Then Thunderwing. Now its this Grand Architect. God knows what next cycle will bring.”

“We are doing everything we can to address the current situation,” Dai Atlas protested. “We’ve already sent Star Saber and his crew to investigate the Grand Architect—”

“Yeah, and where are they? Where’s Rodimus Prime? You know, our leader?”

Dai Atlas scowled. “Just now I was trying to get Rodimus back before all of this happened! Fortress Maximus was our only lead and now he’s gone!”

“Then find another one! Maybe Metroplex can help out; he’s a Titan isn’t he?”

“METROPLEX IS DEAD!” Dai Atlas bellowed, startling Punch enough for him to take a step back. “He’s just a flying husk of a corpse now, use to ferry Prime’s Autobots! It’s a disgrace to the legacy of Primus!”

“Enough, both of you,” Windblade said, trying to step in between the two. “I know we’re all frustrated over this, but arguing and screaming isn’t going to solve anything. We need to take a moment to collect ourselves.”

“We don’t have a moment,” Punch snapped. “Rodimus and Star Saber and everyone else could already be dead, for all we know. All because of our own inaction.”

“They’re not dead.”

All three bots turned to look at Toxitron, standing nearby. The sickly colored “clone” of Optimus had been silent the whole time, to the point where Punch had even forgotten he was there.

“And how do you know that?” Punch asked.

“I’m getting a distress call,” Toxitron replied, uncharacteristically quiet and composed. “From Magna Convoy.”

“Who?” both Punch and Windblade asked, while Dai Atlas wore a knowing look. 

“Do you know where he is?” the councilor asked.

“On Planet X, in the Benzene Cluster. I have the coordinates.”

“Then let us not waste any time.”

Punch looked back up at Dai Atlas, his expression a mix of anger and confusion. “Oh, so you’ve been keeping secrets as well?”

Dai Atlas smirked. “Not secrets. Just information that hasn’t been relevant in eleven hundred years.”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIV, Chapter Eight

 CHAPTER EIGHT

Planet X

The trials had stopped.

Star Saber hadn’t realized it at first until he noticed how quiet it had suddenly gotten. He looked up just as Dipstick was shoved back into his cell by a Quintesson Bailiff while the Sharkticons were directed out of their pool by another. The Prosecutor spoke privately with the five-faced Judge, while all others in the chamber quickly took their leave.

“I wonder what’s going on,” Wing Saber remarked.

Star Saber could not even begin to speculate. He watched the Judge carefully as it continued to speak with the Prosecutor. Just as the Sharkticon pool was emptied and closed up, the Judge descended from its podium and floated across the chamber on its platform, making a bee-line for Star Saber and the others’ cell. Star Saber quickly got to his feet and stepped up to the bars of the cell as the Judge approached it.

“You should be grateful that your execution has been delayed,” the Judge said, rotating to adopt a orange-crested “smiling” face. “The Drilling has begun and I am off to see our plans be brought to fruition.”

“I wish I understood what any of that meant,” Star Saber muttered.

The Judge chuckled. “You do not need to. All you must know is that there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

“Why keep us around to kill us then? What do you gain from these… these kangaroo courts?”

“Entertainment, of course! It was what all of you were made for. Your race exists purely to obey the will of others.”

“We’re not slaves, you five-faced squid!” exclaimed Wing Saber. “Where did you get that harebrained idea?”

The Judge’s oval-shaped carapace spun around and replaced its face with a solemn, grimacing visage. “Many of you are too young to remember a time when Cybertron was ruled by the Quintessons. Instead, you coddle yourselves with make-believe stories of Knights and Primes to make yourselves feel as if you actually have a place in the universe.”

“I am aware of the Builders and the Age of Wrath,” Star Saber said. “You may have ruled over us once, long ago, but we fought for our independence and won it. You have no right to take it away from us.”

The Judge spun again to adopt a red-colored face of anger. “We have every right to take it away from you, Cybertronian! We created you!”

Star Saber took a step back, his optic wide in disbelief. “What…?”

“Your precious ‘god’ - your Primus - was created by us. Cybertron’s original twelve hot spots were ignited by us. Vector Sigma was activated by us. The Matrix, the AllSpark… everything you attribute your creation to was created by us. We are your Gods.”

Star Saber shook his head. “No. No, I don’t… I don’t believe you. I won’t.”

The Judge returned to his “grimacing” face. “It doesn’t matter. You will have no choice but to accept the truth, once all is said and done.”

With that, the Quintesson turned to leave the chamber, letting his words hang in the air. Before Star Saber had even a moment to dwell on them, there was a flash of light and a tall, imposing figure colored in dark maroon materialized in the chamber. Star Saber felt his fuel run cold as he immediately recognized the being.

“Lord Imperious Delirious,” the Judge said, sounding as surprised as Star Saber felt. “I was not expecting you.”

“I did not expect you to,” Lord Imperious coolly replied.

The Judge switched to a gold and black face with a skeptical expression. “Would you care to explain for your unannounced arrival?”

“Gladly.” Lord Imperious unsheathed a long blade from his arm and brought it down onto the Judge. The five-faced alien barely had time to scream as the sword went through his carapace and split him down the middle. The two halves of the Quintesson fell off of the floating platform and onto the floor, spilling green blood everywhere.

As Star Saber stared in horror at the gruesome sight, Lord Imperious waved a hand and the cell doors containing the Crusadercons suddenly vanished, freeing them. No one dared make a move however, with all optical sensors focused on the leader of the Destructons as he stood before them.

“What are you waiting for?” Lord Imperious asked, feigning ignorance to their reasons for hesitation. “You’re free now.”

“How do we know you won’t slaughter us as soon as we step out?” demanded Roller.

“Killing you would accomplish nothing,” Lord Imperious replied. “And keeping you imprisoned would be pointless, seeing as how it won’t make a difference once the Drilling has finished.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Star Saber asked.

Lord Imperious did not answer him and, with another flash of light, vanished from the chamber, leaving the now-freed Crusadercons alone in the massive chamber. 

“I really hate Destructons,” Star Saber muttered.

*  *  *

“Overseer Rexian has ceased responding. Prisoner escapees from Arena Two are making their way through the facility.”

A low rumble uttered from the recipient of these words. A turquoise hand grabbed a large purple blade from nearby and began sharpening it. “What about Arena One?”

“Prosecutor Vashik says that Judge Heirodyus has just been executed by Lord Imperious Delirious. The prisoners have also been freed by him.”

“By who?”

“By Lord Imperious.”

Admiral Tyrannicon growled as he rose from his seat. He already had unpleasant memories of dealing with Cybertronians back when he had been stationed on Aquatron over a century ago. It was because of said Cybertronians that his Quintesson masters had to rebuild him into a new body after having been destroyed by Megatron. Clearly, today was going to be no different.

“Redirect all units to surround the outside perimeter,” Tyrannicon ordered. “The escapees are sure to be trying to find a way out of the facility and escape to their ships. Better to meet them head on then to try to delay their escape.”

“Understood, sir,” the Lunarian officer replied. “Shall I alert the Mercenaries as well?”

Tyrannicon considered it. “Sure, why not? Let’s get everyone out there to give these Cybertronians hell.”

Another Lunarian looked up at him with a confused expression. “Aren’t the Mercenaries also Cybertronian?”

Tyrannicon answered by bringing his large blade down onto the Lunarian and slicing them in half. The others looked away from the scene, pretending not to have noticed though their fearful expressions showed otherwise.

“I will alert Doubledealer, sir,” the first Lunarian said.

“Good,” Tyrannicon snarled, wiping his blade clean. “And if anyone needs me… I’ll be joining in on the fun myself.”

*  *  *

“The Beast sure is taking his sweet time, isn’t he?”

Primus bristled at Rodimus Prime’s remark. The other gathered Primes in the chamber all turned their heads toward him; Liege Maximo and Amalgamous were glaring while Vector and Convoy looked apprehensive, silently pleading Rodimus not to goad their captor any further. The Autobot leader ignored them all and kept his attention focused solely on the supposed “God.”

“If things go as planned, the Beast will never arrive at all,” Primus said. “The whole point of this is to prevent his arrival. In the end, you and the entire Cybertronian race will thank me.”

“For what? Invading our homes and killing us?” Rodimus rolled his optics. “Yeah, we’re really grateful about that. If you remove these restraints, I’ll give you a ‘thank you’ punch to the face.”

“Cease your insolence,” Liege Maximo growled. “It is unbecoming of a Prime.”

“Shove it, Maximo,” Rodimus shot back. “You’re the last person I want a lecture on being a Prime from.”

“Enough!” Primus barked. “After today, the title of Prime will become irrelevant. Cybertron will fall under my leadership, as it should have always been.”

“Do you really think the people will accept you?” Rodimus asked. “Not everyone believes in the Guiding Hand.”

“They will once I grace them with my presence.”

“Or they’ll just think you’re some kind of impostor. Heck, even I’m still skeptical about you being who you claim to be.”

At this, Primus fully turned to face him, his single optic blinking. “You don’t think I’m your God?”

“If you are, you’re doing a bad job of it. Would you like me to list your atrocities again?”

“I am trying to save you all!” Primus cried. “If this fails, then those I have been forced to kill in my path will have received a mercy that none of you will know!”

Rodimus frowned. “Even if you really are a god, you have already showed that you don’t care about the people you’re supposed to protect. All you care about is the glory of your achievements.”

Primus laughed, though it lacked any confidence behind it. “Put yourselves in my stead, Prime. If you were standing where I do now, wouldn’t you have done the same?”

“No,” Rodimus said firmly. “Only a heartless egomaniac would have.”

Primus clenched his fists as he glared at Rodimus. If he was about to say or do something to the Autobot leader, he was deprived of the chance when another figure suddenly materialized into the room.

“Lord Imperious! It’s about time,” Primus said to the leader of the Destructons, who immediately turned to stare at the viewscreen. “The Drilling is already underway and should be finished in only a matter of time.”

“Good.” Lord Imperious’ voice was quiet, carrying none of the dramatic flair that was normal of him. “You have done well, Primus.”

“I will admit that I could not have done it without your help,” Primus replied. “It was you who directed me on how to prepare for the Beast’s arrival.”

Rodimus lifted an optical ridge at this, though decided to keep quiet. Lord Imperious continued to watch the viewscreen, observing the God Gun’s beam as it drilled into the very fabric of space.

“Your Creator would be proud,” he said.

Primus scoffed. “I doubt it.”

“I don’t.”

Primus tilted his head, giving Lord Imperious a questioning look. “What makes you say that? How would you know anything about how my Creator would feel?”

“Because you have done exactly what he wants.”

Primus looked confused as he shifted his gaze to the viewscreen. Where the God Gun’s beam was striking the fabric of space, a small rift was beginning to open. It was growing wider by the minute, tearing through dark matter like it was a sheet of paper.

Through the widening portal, Rodimus could see what looked like an entirely different universe on the other side. A universe filled with decay and rot; where no living thing can even hope to survive; where the mere concept of existence was unfathomable.

A dead universe.

“Oh, no,” Rodimus muttered.

“AllSpark save us,” Vector Prime supplied.

“Do you not have faith in your own god?” Lord Imperious asked, turning to face his astonished audience. “Or have you finally accepted the lie that is his existence?”

Primus’ single optic was focused on Lord Imperious, his entire frame beginning to shake. “Explain yourself, Imperious. What… what are you doing?”

Lord Imperious splayed his hands. “I have done nothing. You only have yourself to blame for what is to come.”

Through the widening rift, Rodimus could see what appear to be a massive dark shape trying to make its way through. Although he was barely able to make out its details, he could see enough of it to know what it was.

“In trying to repel the Beast, you have simply ensured its arrival,” Lord Imperious went on, his eyes gleaming with sinister satisfaction. “The people that once worshiped you will now damn you, Primus… at least in what little time they have left.”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIV, Chapter Seven

 CHAPTER SEVEN

Cybertron - Outside Maccadam’s

“Sovereign? Can you hear me?”

Sovereign groaned as his systems booted back online. After readjusting his optics, he saw that he was no longer inside Maccadam’s Oil House but rather outside, slumped against a wall in the alleyway. As he tried to recollect himself and recall what had just happened, his communicator pinged again.

“Sovereign, come in. Do you copy?”

The Titan Master answered the comm. “I copy, Hazard,” he grumbled.

“Where the blazes are you? Infinitus told me you had gone to Maccadam’s, but they’re closed for the night.”

“I’m out in the alleyway. I’m guessing they tossed me out or something.”

“You’re guessing? You didn’t get yourself wasted, did you?”

“Shut up and find me already,” Sovereign muttered.

A few minutes later, a tall bot in light gray and red appeared from around the corner. Having been among the Titan Masters who had been part of Apex’s hijacking plot, Hazard had since taken on a larger Transtector body with a design reminiscent of the Decepticon Seekers. It was a practice that many Cyberdroids, including the Titan Masters, had taken up following Nova Prime’s rise to power so as to avoid prejudice. While there wasn’t much point to it now in today’s society, Sovereign supposed it did make Cyberdroids’ lives easier when dealing with other full-sized Cybertronians.

As Hazard approached Sovereign, he looked down at the Titan Master with a hint of amusement on his faceplate. “You didn’t really answer my question,” he said dryly.

“Alchemist Prime lives,” Sovereign replied, guesting at the Oil House next to him. “He’s been living in Iaconus, posing as a bar owner, for the past seven thousand years.”

“Is that right?” Hazard observed the building, not as fazed by the revelation as Sovereign thought he would have been. “That’s interesting.”

“Interesting?” Sovereign shot back. “Hazard, you know who Iaconus is. You know what it means that he is still functioning and still on Cybertron!”

“I’m not sure that I do. I mean, he hasn’t exactly been doing much, has he?”

Sovereign shook his head. “You and I both know that years of inactivity does not preclude things from actually happening. We need to shut him down permanently.”

Hazard looked back at him. “And how do you propose we do that?”

“I might have an idea,” Sovereign said quietly. “But first, we need to gather the other Titan Masters before we can proceed.” 

“You’re not thinking of pulling another Apex, are you? That didn’t go so well last time, and the Autobots are already wary of us as it is.”

“It was never about gaining their trust, Hazard. It was simply about preparing them for what is to come.”

Walking past Hazard, Sovereign stepped out of the alleyway and onto the streets of Iacon, looking in the direction of Fortress Maximus.

“And if that means jeopardizing what little trust they have in us… then so be it.”

Cybertron - Fortress Maximus

“Here he is.”

Dai Atlas stood in front of the cell containing the mysterious “clone” (or whatever he was) that called himself Prowl. Like Cerebros had said, the strange white-and-black bot was in an offline state and displayed no signs of life. If he hadn’t been told otherwise, Dai Atlas would have thought he was dead.

“And do you have a mnemosurgeon on hand to extract his memories?” Dai Atlas asked.

Cerebros nodded and gestured to a small tan and red bot, who stepped forward. “Infinitus tells me Stylor here is one.”

“I can’t make any guarantees that I’ll be able to get anything out of him,” Stylor admitted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got some firewalls in place.”

“Regardless, do whatever you can,” Dai Atlas said.

After Cerebros had lowered the shield to Prowl’s cell, Stylor stepped in and climbed onto the immobile bot, positioning himself behind the bot’s neck. Extending a set of needles from his fingers, the Titan Master plunged them into Prowl’s neck and got to work.

While Stylor operated on the clone, Dai Atlas turned back to look at Cerebros. “Have you had a chance to see if there are any other means of reaching Rodimus Prime via the space bridge?”

Cerebros shook his head. “I haven’t been able to bring up the same list that Sovereign did. However, he did say that Metrotitan is still online, and he was one of the Titans who went after Liege Maximo. While I’m not exactly sure where Metrotitan is, he might be our only chance at reaching Rodimus.”

Dai Atlas silently nodded as he returned his attention to Stylor. As soon as he did, the Titan Master pulled his needles out of Prowl’s neck and jumped off of the clone as it fell lifelessly to the floor.

“What happened?” Dai Atlas asked.

“He’s dead,” Stylor replied. “I think he has been for some time.”

“That’s not right,” Cerebros muttered, stepping into the cell to give the body a closer look. “His vitals were in functioning order when I checked them on the scanners just a few deca-cycles ago.”

“His vital functions are operating, but not his spark,” said Stylor. “Because he doesn’t have one.”

Cerebros looked confused as he rolled the clone onto its back and opened up its chest plate. Indeed, where a spark and its chamber would have been was instead a simple circuit board, its wires having been somehow disconnected and permanently disabled.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “What even is he?”

“He’s a member of the Second Generation,” Stylor explained. “The children of Liege Maximo.”

Dai Atlas looked at him skeptically. “How do you know about that?”

“I lived during the Age of the Primes, as did my fellow Titan Masters. The Second Generation had always been a talking point in Liege Maximo’s vision for Cybertron, as the next point of evolution for the Cybertronian race. Rather than rely on sparks for life, they would instead run on pure energy and fuel. Even after the hot spots went cold and Vector Sigma became dormant, the Cybertronian race would live on through the Second Generation.”

“And Maximo was successful in giving birth to this ‘generation?’”

“Not during my time,” Stylor replied. “But, based on how this bot is built and considering he is already associated in some way with Liege Maximo, I have no doubt that that is what he is.”

“Fantastic,” Dai Atlas grumbled. “So we’re still back where we started.”

Suddenly, Cerebros stood up and turned to face Stylor. “You’re a Titan Master, aren’t you? Can you access Fort Max’s database?”

“Uh, I can try. Why?”

“Sovereign saw something in it that caused him to run out. I want to find out what it was.”

“Shouldn’t we focus on finding Rodimus?” Dai Atlas asked.

“It’ll have to wait.” Striding out of the cell, Cerebros beckoned the other two to follow him. “Follow me.”

While Dai Atlas started to follow Cerebros, Stylor did not. The two Autobots both stopped to look at the Titan Master, regarding him suspiciously.

“Aren’t you coming?” Dai Atlas asked.

Stylor’s expression was blank and unreadable. He didn’t even seem to be paying attention to the Autobots at all and instead appeared to be deep in thought. After a pressing few moments, he looked back up at the other two and frowned.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this, Kord,” the Titan Master said.

Cerebros shifted at the name. It was the same name the Titan Masters had addressed him with during their abduction plot. “What are you—”

Out of nowhere, a blaster bolt flew across the room and struck Dai Atlas in the back. The councilor cried as he fell face-first to the floor, at which point Stylor jumped onto him and inserted needles into his neck.

“Stop! Get off of him!” Cerebros moved to lunge at Stylor only for a strong hand to grab him by the shoulder and pull him back. Cerebros turned around to see Infinitus standing before him, a gun in hand.

“Infinitus! What’s going on? What is the meaning of this?”

Infinitus’ expression was one of solemnity. “I’m sorry, Kord. This has to be done. For the good of all of Cybertron.”

Cerebros stepped back from him. “You keep calling me that. That’s not my name. My name is Cerebros!”

“I wish this reunion could have been under better circumstances.”

Before Cerebros could do anything, Infinitus struck him in the face with the back of his gun. As he fell to the floor, Stylor moved from Dai Atlas and climbed onto Cerebros, brandishing his needles.

“It is time you finally remember who you are, Kord,” Infinitus went on. “Who you are meant to be.”

Cerebros could barely scream as the needles injected into his neck and the world exploded around him.

Cybertron - High Council Pavilions

“I would like to request an audience with the Council.”

The Autobot guard standing outside the chambers of the Council of Worlds regarded Punch with a look of disinterest. “Do you have a permit?” he grumbled.

“I don’t have time for bureaucratic nonsense,” Punch retorted. “This is important.”

“Really. How important are we talking about?”

“Important enough that I don’t need to go through any frivolous channels like yourself.”

The guard shifted his gaze from Punch to Maccadam and Toxitron, who stood behind the double agent. “And what are these two here for?”

Punch put a hand on Maccadam’s shoulder. “You’ve been to Maccadam’s Old Oil House, haven’t you?” he asked the guard.

“Once or twice.”

“Well, you’re looking at the fabled owner himself. He’s come out of a several millennia-long period of obscurity to speak with the Council. That’s how important this is.”

“What, did his bar license expire?”

At this, Maccadam let out a hearty laugh, which caught Punch off-guard. “Oh, that’s a very good guess,” the proprietor said. “In fact, I don’t think it’s been renewed since the fall of the High Council. Technically, I should be arrested.”

“I’m this close from doing so,” the guard grunted. “Now get lost before I—”

Toxitron stepped forward and threw his fist into the guard’s face, knocking them offline. He then swiped the bot’s security card and used it to open the door, all before Punch could utter a word of protest.

“You’re going to get us all in trouble,” Punch hissed.

Toxitron ignored him as he stepped through the door. Punch and Maccadam followed him and the trio found themselves staring down the barrels of several guns pointed at their faces.

“Identify yourselves!” ordered one of the security officers standing between them and the handful of councilors present in the chamber.

Punch raised an arm and displayed a small holographic image from his wrist. “Punch of Harmonex. Agent C-111 of the Autobot Secret Service. Pleasure to meet you.”

The officer regarded the hologram with a look of skepticism. “These credentials are out of date.”

“Your motherboard is out of date. Let us through.”

“Stand down, all of you.” Windblade came up from behind the security guards, eying Punch and his group warily. “What is going on here?”

“Maccadam here has some secrets he would like to share with you.” Punch glared at the proprietor in question. “Isn’t that right?”

“Maccadam? As in the owner of the Old Oil House?” Windblade stared at the orange bot in astonishment. “You’re really him?”

“Indeed I am,” Maccadam replied. “I will admit, I was not expecting to reveal myself to the public either, yet here we are.”

“Right,” Punch muttered. “So, you want to start spilling the beans or does Toxitron have to hit you with a door?”

Maccadam opened his mouth to speak… only to stop, his cheerful expression suddenly dropping and replaced with a look of dread. The lenses which covered his optics started to glow brightly, just as they had when Toxitron wore them.

“No,” he murmured. “Not now.”

“What is it?” Windblade asked, pushing past the guards to stand in front of Maccadam.

“It’s already begun. The Drilling has commenced. Too late to stop it. The Beast is on its way.”

“What ‘Beast?’ What the hell is ‘the Drilling?’”

Maccadam said nothing. Instead, he turned around and, with a surprising amount of strength, pushed Punch and Toxitron aside before dashing for the door. The Autobots quickly moved to pursue him, but when they stepped outside of the hall, Maccadam was nowhere to be seen, with nary a trace of him.

Raising a hand to her comm, Windblade said, “This is Councilor Windblade to security! Dispatch all available units to Maccadam’s Old Oil House!”

“Er, bit of a problem with that, Councilor,” responded the voice of Checkpoint.

Windblade frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Fortress Maximus has come online. And he’s already headed there.”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIV, Chapter Six

 CHAPTER SIX

Planet X

Wheelie knew that he was lost.

He could still hear the sounds from the arena, but they were well in the distance now. The hallway he had since found himself in was at least five times his size, making him feel even smaller than he already was. Every corner he turned simply led him down a different hallway, which then split off into two or three different corridors. To make matters worse, each room looked the same as the last, making Wheelie feel as if he was just driving around in circles.

Just as he was about to stop to try and collect himself, Wheelie heard voices coming from nearby. Quietly transforming to his robot mode, Wheelie walked in the direction of the voices, careful not to make a sound. He could them clearer as he neared a small room that he would have missed had he not been looking for it. Pressing himself against the wall just next to the doorway, Wheelie raised the sensitivity of his audio receptors to better hear what the individuals in the room were saying.

“…disturbance in Arena Two. Overseer Rexian is requesting reinforcements.”

“Dispatch Unit Five and Seven to Arena Two.”

“Should we strengthen security for Arena One?”

“Do that for all of them. This situation cannot bleed over.”

Suddenly, the door opened and Wheelie pressed himself against the wall, bracing for the worst. A pair of bots — both bearing armor with spiky edges — strode out of the room and walked past him, seemingly oblivious to his presence.

“The Drilling is about to begin,” said one of the two bots. “We cannot afford to have things be interrupted this late in the game.”

“I agree,” said the other. “Besides, you remember what happened to the last person to allow the plan to be set back.”

“Gah, don’t remind me. I can still hear the screams whenever I enter shutdown….”

The pair continued walking down the hall and turned the corner, disappearing from Wheelie’s line of sight. Realizing that the door was still open, he dashed into the small room and closed the door behind him. Once inside, he found himself facing a set of monitors, each linked to cameras in rooms throughout the facility. On one he could see the arena that he and Kup had been in, with the freed Monstercons still trying to fight their way out of the chamber. He was unable to spot Kup amongst the sea of Decepticons and could only pray that the older bot had gotten to safety.

Wheelie then shifted his attention to a monitor showing one of the other arenas. On the screen, he could see what looked to be hundreds of Autobots trapped in cells, with a pool filled with Sharkticons waiting below them. A five-faced Quintesson judge presided over the chamber while an overseer-type prosecuted the captive bots. Although Wheelie was not familiar with any of the bots being held prisoner, he knew it was his duty as an Autobot to help them.

As he started to hack into the console and find out where the prisoners were located, Wheelie heard the door open behind him. Afraid that it was the same bots who had been in here earlier, he braced himself for the worst as he turned around. Instead, he saw a short black and blue bot — about equal in size as him — who immediately froze upon seeing Wheelie. 

“Uh… I don’t think you should be here.”

Moving quickly, Wheelie jumped onto the other bot and tackled him to the floor, clamping a hand over his faceplate. “Make nary a sound and I won’t give your head a pound,” Wheelie whispered to him.

The other bot blinked but said nothing. After dragging him inside and closing the door again, Wheelie pinned him against the wall and unsheathed a small blade, holding it up to his neck.

“Show me the way and this will not be your last day.”

“Why are you talking like that?” the other bot questioned him, eying the knife nervously. “Who even are you?”

“I should be asking you the same,” Wheelie replied. “Perhaps you could provide me with your name.”

“My name is Wipe-Out. Please, could you do away with the knife? It’s really not necessary.”

Wheelie did not lower the knife. With his other hand, he pointed to the set of monitors, indicating the one that was his main concern. “Can you take me there?” he asked.

Wipe-Out glanced at the screen in question. “You mean the Courtroom? I, uh, I guess I could.”

“Will you help me free them?”

“Um, well, I— I don’t know if that would be smart,” Wipe-Out said. “There are a lot of guards down there and there’s only two of us and—”

“We’re not confronting them head on,” Wheelie interjected. “We would be sneaking in and pulling a con.”

Wipe-Out tilted his head. “You’re… you’re a Decepticon?”

Wheelie blinked in confusion. “What? No. What makes you….” He shook his head. “Forget it. Just take me there and follow my lead. Got it?”

Wipe-Out said nothing at first, staring at Wheelie as if weighing his options. Finally, he nodded, albeit with some hesitation.

“Okay. You got it. I’m with you. Now can you please put the knife away?”

Wheelie did so, though he still kept a hold on the other bot. With his other hand, he hit the control panel to open the door. It slid open and he turned to walk out… only to see the two spiky bots he had seen earlier standing outside. Before he had time to react, one of the pair seized him by the neck and hoisted him up, a wicked grin on their face.

“Well, well,” the scarlet-colored bot said, a sadistic gleam in his yellow optics. “And just where did you come from?”

“I asked him but he wouldn’t even tell me,” Wipe-Out started to stay. “I think he—”

“I wasn’t talking to you, runt,” the larger bot snapped. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Flame?”

“Yes, but he sent me to fetch you,” Wipe-Out said hastily. “He, uh, he said needed your help or— or something.”

The spiky bot scowled. “Fine. Maybe while we’re there, he can find a use for this little intruder. If not, we can always feed him to the Sharkticons.”

Wheelie opened his mouth and was about to fire a sharp retort only to stop when the floor shook slightly. Wipe-Out reacted in alarm and even the two spiky bots seemed confused at first. Then, the red one smiled.

“Oh. So it has begun.”

“What?” Wipe-Out whined. “What has begun?”

“The Drilling.”

*  *  *

“I would like to thank you for agreeing to join me on this momentous occasion.”

Rodimus Prime glared at the being who called himself Primus, his arms still bound by energy rays. “I wouldn’t say ‘agreeing’ is the right word to use.”

Primus ignored the remark as he stared at a viewscreen showing the five planetoids that comprised his God Gun. “I know we did not get off on the right foot earlier,” he went on. “But I still wanted you and your fellow Primes to be present for what is sure to be a historical moment.”

Rodimus looked over to see that he and Convoy were not the only ones in the room with Primus. Vector Prime stood nearby, similarly restrained, while Liege Maximo and Amalgamous Prime loomed over him. Vector met Rodimus’ gaze with a apprehensive look but said nothing to the younger Prime.

Primus began speaking again, redirecting Rodimus’ attention back to him. “It was on this day, over twelve thousand years ago, that my younger self — through Adaptus — bore witness to what you are about to see for yourselves. As we speak, he travels through the Warren and by the time he emerges here, the Beast will have already arrived.”

“My friend Convoy here told me a little bit of your story,” said Rodimus. “Is this where you took Luna One after the Quintessons were driven away?”

“You know about that, do you?” Primus replied, turning to look at Rodimus. “In any case, you are correct. As soon as the Lunarians had finished building the moon’s engines, I — Adaptus, that is — took it into the Warren, a network of subspace tunnels that he had discovered shortly before he turned against the other four. It deposited me into the Benzene Cluster, thousands of years into the future, where I saw… it.”

“And just what is ‘it?’” Rodimus asked.

“Words cannot do it justice. Even seeing it would be enough to cause your processor to overload itself. Speaking of which….” Primus turned back to the viewscreen. “I do believe we are about to begin.”

Rodimus shifted his gaze to the viewscreen and saw that the five Cybertron replicas that made up the God Gun were beginning to glow. Beams of energy emitted from the spheres, linking them together before being redirected towards the central planetoid. As the beams converged onto Planet X, Rodimus felt the ground shift, as if the planet was threatening to split itself apart. Primus did not appear to be bothered by this. In fact, although he lacked a mouth, Rodimus was pretty sure he would have been smiling.

“Prepare yourselves, my friends,” the Grand Architect said quietly. “The Beast is on his way.”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIV, Chapter Five

 CHAPTER FIVE

Planet X

“Your friend is unwell. He has been twisted by this Hell.”

“You said it, lad,” Kup muttered, sitting across from his cellmate. The small orange bot went by the name Wheelie and had an odd way of speaking, often using rhymes. So far, Kup had not been able to discern much about Wheelie’s history and how he had ended up in the Quintessons’ clutches, though he supposed it didn’t matter much at the moment, with there being more pressing matters at hand.

He looked outside to see that Guzzle had been brought back out for another match. While the mad tank-bot was still shaking and loudly declaring his craving for more bots to kills, Kup could tell that he was not as energized as he had been previously. These barbaric matches were wearing Guzzle down, and the Quintessons had not been doing much to keep him in good shape. If this next match didn’t kill Guzzle, the next two or three certainly would.

“Much as I hate to admit it, I’d say he’s our best chance of breaking out of here,” Kup said quietly. “If we could find a way to distract him and lure him here, maybe we can provoke him into tearing the door open.”

“Your idea is sound but I cannot lie, if the monster comes to us, we most certainly would die,” said Wheelie.

“It’s a big risk, I know. But honestly, I’d rather have him tear me apart than be fed to the Sharkticons. Besides, your small and would have a better chance at evading him.” Kup’s expression turned grim. “He wants me dead anyway.”

Wheelie gave him a quizzical look but thankfully did not ask Kup to elaborate on the last bit. “Among the Sharkticons, I have a friend,” he said instead. “He can save us from a terrible end.”

It was Kup’s turn to look quizzical. “You’re friends with a Sharkticon? How did that happen?”

“Gnaw is his name. He did not eat me, whereas the others would have. Visits me he sometimes does when his masters are not looking.”

Kup frowned. “And how exactly is he going to help us? Do you have any way of summoning him?”

Wheelie shook his head. “Gnaw arrives as he pleases. Far be it from me to impede on his freedom.”

“Well, I’m afraid we can’t abide by your friend’s schedule. We need to get out of here now or else we’ll never have another shot at this.”

Kup watched through the bars as Guzzle was taken into the arena. Waiting for him there was another batch of Monstercons, all looking terrified of what they knew was their impending doom. Guzzle looked down at them with a look of hunger in his optics.

“Ah— dessert time!” Guzzle rubbed his large hands together. “What do we have on the menu tonight? Some Croctobot stew with a side of Lobstercon?”

“W-we ain’t afraid of you!” cried a teal and yellow reptilian Monstercon, shaking as he pointed a gun at Guzzle. “W-we outn-number you!”

Guzzle laughed as he brought his fist down onto Razorgrille, smashing him into the floor. “Numbers don’t mean nothing.”

“This… this isn’t worth the XP,” murmured a red-orange lobster-like Decepticon. “Can I skip this level? There’s gotta be a cheat code for it. I knew I should have leveled up before getting to this part….”

Bisk turned to run away only to be grabbed from behind by Guzzle. Just as the ex-Wrecker was about to tear the Monstercon in half, Kup chose that moment to make his move.

“Hardspark!”

Guzzle froze and a deathly silence fell over the room. One of the Quintessons overseeing the arena turned in the direction of Kup and Wheelie’s cell and sneered.

“Silence, or your time will come sooner than you would prefer,” growled the overseer.

Kup ignored him and proceeded to speak to Guzzle. “Remember Hardspark, lad? Your brother? The same brother that I killed?”

Guzzle roared out in rage and he threw Bisk into a bat-like Monstercon, before turning in Kup’s direction. His optical sensors flared madly as steam exhumed from the vents in his faceplate.

“I’d say it’s by time you got your revenge, wouldn’t you say, pal?” Kup went on, aware that Wheelie was staring at him as if he was a mad man (he wouldn’t have been wrong, either). “You’ve been denied your shot at me once too often.”

“Silence!” the overseer bellowed. “Do not interfere with the match!”

Kup smirked, locking eyes with Guzzle. “Come and get me, kid. I know you want to.”

With an ear-splitting roar, Guzzle charged towards the cell, barreling past the Allicon guards that stood in his way. As he backed up against the wall, Kup glanced at Wheelie.

“You can still transform, can’t you, lad?”

Wheelie slowly nodded, still looking between fear of Guzzle and annoyance with Kup.

“Once you see an opening, go through it. Go and find Gnaw or whatever his name is. I’ll hold this guy off.”

“You will not last long,” Wheelie whispered. “He is much too strong.”

“I know. That’s the idea.”

The Quintessons’ efforts to reel Guzzle back in were ineffective and the tank-bot came crashing into the cell, undeterred by the electrical shocks that the bars tried to surge into his body. Without hesitation, Wheelie transformed into a small orange car and sped off, leaving Kup to his fate.

“YOU’RE GONNA DIE, YOU SPAWN OF A GLITCH!” Guzzle roared. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU SO HARD!”

Kup smirked in the face of death. “Promises, promises.”  

*  *  *

“Well, well, well. Looks like we have a useful distraction.”

Leo Prime peered through the bars of his cell to see that Guzzle had broken off from his fight with the Monstercons and was instead attacking one of the many cells that surrounded the arena. He then glanced at Steel Jaw, who had a thoughtful smirk on his lupine face.

“How is this useful?” Leo Prime asked. “We’re still stuck in a cell. This doesn’t change anything.”

“But the guards are distracted,” Steel Jaw pointed out. Indeed, the Allicons that had been stationed at their cell had abandoned their post to deal with the raging Guzzle. “Meaning there’s no one here to stop us.”

“Stop us from what? Are you saying you’ve had a escape plan this whole time?”

Steel Jaw flashed a sly grin. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Do you really think I would have gone so many days, so many weeks, without having formulated some sort of plan?”

Leo Prime rolled his eyes, already fed up with the wolf-Con’s arrogance. “Well, what’s your plan then?”

“You know how I have a penchant for sonic weaponry?” Steel Jaw asked.

Leo Prime’s optics narrowed, recalling how Steel Jaw’s “penchant” had botched his plans back on Earth. “Yes….”

“Well, I took an interest in our late friend Carnivac’s ability to temporarily disable others with his sonic howls. I took some time to build a device that could replicate his power.”

“So, what, your plan for escape is to knock everyone out cold, including ourselves?” Leo Prime asked wryly.

Steel Jaw chuckled. “It doesn’t quite work to the same extent. Just enough for our purposes.”

He raised his right arm, which converted into the shape of a gun. He pointed it at the ceiling and it let out a single “burst” of sound, at a low enough frequency that Leo Prime could barely hear it. Instantly, all of the cell doors across the arena opened, allowing the captive Monstercons, Chimeracons, and Star Seekers to pour out.

Leo Prime gawked upon this scene before looking back at Steel Jaw, who smirked back at him.

“Am I forgiven now?”

Leo Prime shook his head as he stepped out of their cell, out into the now-crowded arena. “Ask me again if we survive this.”

*  *  *

Kup should have been dead by now.

He wasn’t just thinking about Guzzle, who was mere inches from killing Kup and was held back only by the Allicons trying to reel him back in. He was also thinking about the countless other near-death experiences and scenarios he had been through over the course of his life. From being trapped in the Nightmare Engine to being shot into a sun, he had practically been through hell and back. Yet somehow, against all odds, he was still holding together to this day. Kup couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing as Guzzle continued to rage in front of him.

“GET OFF OF ME!” Guzzle bellowed as an Allicon stuck an electric prod into the back of his head. “I’M NOT LETTING YOU GREASE-STAINS KEEP ME FROM MY DESTINY!”

Kup knew he should have been using this opportunity to escape. But he knew wherever he went, Guzzle would follow and endanger the lives of not just Kup but anyone around him. No, he had to stay put and make sure that Guzzle was put down for good… even if it came at the cost of his own life.

As Guzzle threw the Allicon off of him and into two others that were approaching, Kup chose that moment to act. Launching into the air, he transformed into his truck mode and rammed himself into the tank. Despite the vast disparity between their sizes, the force of the blow was enough to knock Guzzle back, bringing them out of the cell and into the arena. Returning to his robot mode, Kup threw his fists into Guzzle’s head, not pulling any punches as he tried to keep the ex-Wrecker disoriented enough from throwing back.

Suddenly, a symphony of cheers and roars filled the arena. Looking up, Kup saw that the cells surrounding the arena had inexplicably been opened and countless prisoners were pouring out, all converging on his and Guzzle’s location.

“Oh, slag.” Kup jumped off of Guzzle before the larger Autobot could recover and attack him. At that moment, a serpentine Monstercon lunged at Guzzle and wrapped himself around the ex-Wrecker, holding him in place.

“I’ve got him!” Vertebrake cried. “He’s all yours!”

At first, Kup thought the Monstercon was talking to him, until the other Decepticons all swarmed in and attacked the restrained Guzzle, guns ablaze. Among the assailants was a purple Chompazoid, who eagerly charged towards Guzzle and wrapped his huge maw around the ex-Wrecker’s legs. The scream Guzzle uttered as his legs were ripped from his body was a sound Kup hoped to never hear again.

It wasn’t long before Guzzle was on the ground and Kup could no longer see him beyond the sea of Decepticons that was overwhelming him. Guzzle continued to scream but his attempts to fight back were in vain as the Monstercons proceeded to pull him apart piece by piece. Kup looked away, not wanting to see what would remain of his former comrade once the Monstercons had had their fill.

Looking up, Kup saw that the Quintesson overseers and their Allicon guards were gathering together at the rim of the arena, watching the unfolding events with vague expressions. Realizing that they were not paying attention to him, Kup transformed into his truck mode and drove up the side of the arena. Jumping up, he converted back to his robot form and landed a punch into one of the Allicons’ faces, attracting the Quintessons’ attention. The veteran Autobot held up his fists as the other guards pointed their spears at him.

“You really think you can beat me with those sticks of yours?” Kup said with a wry grin. “’Cons bigger and stronger than you have blasted me with worse, and yet here I am still.”

“Know your place, Cybertronian!” snarled one of the Quintessons. “Stand down and comply or else we will—”

“Rexian!” said another overseer. “We must get this situation under control! Once those… those beasts are done with our fighter, they will come for us!”

Overseer Rexian frowned as he looked back down into the arena. “I believe they already are.”

Kup followed his gaze and saw that the ‘Cons were indeed already finished with Guzzle, leaving nothing but what barely qualified as an endoskeleton, and were now heading towards where he and the Quintessons were.

“Fall back!” Rexian cried. “Fall back!”

With “Nightmare Engine” and “being shot into a sun” already being on his list of impossible survival scenarios, Kup could only hope that “fleeing from Monstercons with a bunch of alien squids” would be one of them.