Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars VIII, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

--The Lost Light--

    There were many words Megatron could use to describe the Lost Light. Progressive was not one of them.

    In the one month he had been here, the ship had not gotten any closer to its goal than it had been when he had joined, and even before that point. Moldavite Six had been a waste of time, Molryus Minor another pointless detour, and Paradron... well, the less said about that, the better.

    It just felt like Rodimus was wasting time. He claimed to be heading back for Caminus, but with all the stops they had made, it simply felt like their captain was stalling. And for what? Was he afraid of actually finding Cyberutopia? Did he not want this quest to end?

    Many times had Megatron asked himself this question, and still he had no answer. It was beginning to tire him. Infuriate, even.

    Megatron had not been on the bridge in five days. He felt that, the longer he stayed there, the closer he would come to strangling Rodimus. Then his quest for redemption would have been for nothing.

    Instead, he would wait. He had asked Ultra Magnus to radio him when they had reached someplace worthwhile. As the Autobot seemed to share in his distaste for their lack of progress, Magnus understood what he meant.

   Until then, he would sit patiently in his hab suite. Surely they would come across something interesting eventually.

    But probably not.

*  *  *

    "You know, it's not everyday you wake up and find out your best friend is an evil intergalactic overlord."

    Dion took another swig of his drink before slamming it back down on the counter.

    "It's also not every day that you find yourselves being thrown all across the timeline. I mean, how old even am I? I pretty much just missed two thousand years of history and now I'm starting to live a third of it. Is this even real life?"

    Swerve stared at Dion as the latter downed the rest of his drink. "Uh... is this just now starting to get to you?" the bartender asked. "Because you seemed pretty chill about it for the past few days...."

    "Ah, it's probably just the engex talking," Dion grumbled. "Or maybe all the time travel's made me slow to the realization. One of the two. Or both."

    He moved to take another chug only to remember his can was empty. He was about to ask Swerve for another when his messenger pinged. It read: My office. Twenty minutes. Don't be late. Rung.

    Groaning, Dion rose from his seat and hobbled to his feet. "Keep my tab open. I'll be back."

    "Uh, yeah, sure," Swerve said, watching as Dion stumbled out of the bar. He didn't have the spark to tell the time-traveler that he didn't even have a tab open....

*  *  *

    "Why did you call the D.J.D.?"

    Stormshot sighed as she fiddled with a piece on the model Rung had given her. She knew the question was going to come up in their sessions at some point; she just didn't expect Rung to be so direct about it.

    "Tell me, Rung," she said quietly. "Have you ever met an ex-Deception?"

    "Why, of course," Rung said. "Our third-in-command Drift is an ex-Decepticon himself."

    "Yeah, but do you, like, know him? Like, has he ever visited you and opened up to you?"

    Rung adjusted his spectacles. "Even if he has, I'm not at liberty to divulge such information."

    "Well, if he has, you would know that living as an ex-Con is the most miserable thing you could ever experience," Stormshot said. "For all my life -- all 211 years of it -- I've lived in constant fear of the D.J.D. eventually reaching my name on the List."

    "Then why did you call them? If you knew they were going to kill you...."

    "I didn't want to die, but I knew if they found me, they would kill everyone else on the ship. That's why I waited until we had landed on Paradron -- so I could get them as far away from the Lost Light as possible."

    Rung was silent for a moment as he watched Stormshot continue to fiddle with the model, not really getting anywhere with it. Finally, he said, "Did Megatron have anything to do with your decision?"

    Stormshot froze, her wing stiffening. Her voice came as an almost deadly whisper. "Why do you ask?"

    "Well, everyone's been a lot more... tense since he came aboard, along with a number of Decepticons. I was just wondering... do you fear him more than the D.J.D.?"

    Stormshot abruptly rose to her feet, letting the model clatter to the table. "I think that's enough. It's been well over an hour."

    Rung sighed as he retrieved the model from the table. "Very well. Dion should be here soon."

    Just then, there was a thud at the door. Rung and Stormshot both rushed over and opened it, allowing an orange and blue bot to stumble in.

    "Sorry," he muttered, his words slightly slurred. "Motors actin' up. Should get 'em tuned. Or have I already done that? I don't know. Time travel sucks."

    With that, Dion collapsed onto the floor. Rung exhaled loudly.

    "Story of my life."

*  *  *

    Nightbeat loved mysteries. That much a given. What he didn't love were things that were complete and utter scrap.

   He could buy missing moons and stray ships, but when it came to things like Titans or magical artifacts? He just couldn't wrap his head around such things -- even when he saw them with his own optics. It just wasn't something he could compute.

    The Thirteen were a subject that straddled the line for him. While he certainly believed the myths surrounding them were bogus, he couldn't help but ponder whether there was some truth to their tale. After all, the title of Prime had to come from somewhere.

    Recent events had simply proven to strengthen his inkling. After they had left Paradron, Nightbeat had learned from Stormshot that Cannonspring had been on Carcer with her and had merged with an Autobot named Chaindrive. Based on how Stormshot had described the merging, as well as Chaindrive's appearance, Nightbeat couldn't help but be reminded of Nexus Prime, the Wizard of Forms and master of combination according to legends.

    His first instinct had been to go to Emirate Xaaron, just as he had a hundred years ago when the Fallen threatened Cybertron. But then he thought better of it: Xaaron was a staunch believer of Primus and thus would be biased towards the mythical portrayal of the Thirteen. He needed someone more "real." Someone who was just as obsessed with facts as he was.

    He needed Rewind.

    The small archivist watched as Nightbeat circled around a holoprojector displaying graphs the detective had made (and only he understood). Coming to a halt, he looked down at Rewind.

    "Tell me: Who was the first Prime, besides the Thirteen?"

    "The first Prime?" Rewind thought for a moment. "Well, the first ever recorded is Alpha Prime...."

    "And how far back do those records date?"

    "That's been disputed for years, especially since the switch to the New Calendar. Some say he lived as far back as Cycle 1984, some think even further than that, but nothing concrete."

    "And the Thirteen?" Nightbeat asked. "How does Alpha Prime fit into their tale?"

    "That also varies," Rewind said. "Popular belief maintains that he was a disciple of the Thirteen that they left in charge when they vanished. Others still believe that he was one of the Thirteen themselves, who stayed behind to watch over Cybertron's budding population."

    "But nothing concrete?"

    "Right." Rewind tilted his head as the detective returned his attention to the graph. "Why the sudden interest in the Thirteen, Nightbeat? I didn't think you cared about that kind of stuff."

    "Of course I care! I care about all things unexplained, no matter how stupid they are!" Nightbeat rubbed his chin. "But the Thirteen and their story have become a recent interest of mine, especially after all that Carcer business."

    Suddenly, like a lightbulb going off, a smile stretched across his face.

    "Censere!" he exclaimed.

    "Um, bless you?" Rewind said, confused.

    "No, Censere! Remember the Necrobot?"

    "Oh, yeah. Of course. What about him?"

    "When he introduced himself, he said he hailed from the High-Ceilinged Manifold. I wasn't familiar with the place but I later learned from Glyph it was a place on Cybertron long before Nova Prime's era."

    "Meaning...?"

    "Meaning he's the oldest known Cybertronian alive and thus the only one who would know anything about Alpha Prime and the Thirteen." Nightbeat grinned. "I hope Rodimus still has that bullet, because I think we need to pay the Necrobot another visit."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars VIII, Prologue

PROLOGUE

--Mars--

    Prowl stood in the center of what had once been Outpost Three, one of the Secret Order's five known bases. All around him were computers with wiped data, equipment that was obsolete... all in all, nothing of any note.

    They had been too late. No doubt upon hearing of what had gone down at the Floating Fortress, the Decepticons stationed here had evacuated as soon as possible, knowing the Autobots would soon be at their doorstep.

    Prowl grimaced to himself. If only they had come here a month earlier, then they would've been able to put a stop to the operations taking place here. After the defeat of the Heralds of Unicron, Prowl had approached Elita-One with the information recovered from Outpost One, the Secret Order's presence here on Mars being among it. However, Elita had larger concerns at the time, mainly regarding the whereabouts of Optimus Prime, and had Prowl postpone any endeavors concerning Outpost Three in favor of searching for Prime.

    Well, a month had now passed. Optimus Prime was still missing and Mars had been abandoned. No progress had been made in either respect.

    Prowl clenched his fist in anger. On the one hand, he shouldn't have been mad at Elita for prioritizing Optimus over all else. Not only was he their leader, but he was also Elita's sparkmate. It was only natural she would be concerned for him more than anything.

    But at the same time, Prowl did not believe that one should let one's feelings for another get in the way of what needed to be done. He himself had made that mistake once, and he regretted it still to this day.

    The mission came first. Everything and everyone else would have to wait.

    Unfortunately, Prowl realized, not everyone shared that belief. In fact, in the past seven months, he had seen more and more relationships and strong connections form where there had been none for nearly a thousand years. He wasn't necessarily opposed to it -- after all, the war was over -- but there was still a lot more work to be done. And if others intended on getting in his way....

    Prowl was broken from his thoughts when he heard someone approach him from behind. Turning around, he saw a black and gold mech standing in the doorway, arms folded over his chest.

    "Crosswise," Prowl said. "You got my call."

    "Evidently," his agent replied coolly.

    Prowl decided to let the snippy remark slide. There were more important matters at hand. "What were you able to gather on Earth?"

    "Not as much as I would have liked. All of the Machination bases I could find were abandoned. All data on their computers were either wiped or corrupted. Say what you will about humans, but they know how to cover their tracks."

    "Not unlike the Secret Order," Prowl muttered with a grimace. "Were you able to find anything of note?"

    Crosswise hesitated. "Nothing... concrete. I did come across some hidden labs with some... interesting equipment."

    "Such as...?"

    "Like, organic materials. Wood, bark, even tissue...."

    Prowl raised an optic. "At a Machination lab? Why would they have those materials if they were trying to replicate us?"

    Crosswise shrugged. "Beats me. I couldn't find much more beyond that."

    "Interesting." Rubbing his chin, Prowl looked around the deserted room. Could Scorponok have some connection to the Secret Order? He had been the only Herald absent at the Fortress on Nimbus. Did the Order's hand reach as far enough as Earth and all that had went down there?

    Perhaps there was more to this than he had realized.

    Turning back to Crosswise, he said, "Continue your investigations on Earth but be prepared for future orders. I need to sort this out before I can even begin to figure out where to go from here."

    "How can we go anywhere from here?" Crosswise asked. "We don't have any leads."

    "Maybe not. But sometimes, in order to go forward... you have to take a few steps back."

THE GREATER GOOD

Part 1: Practice to Deceive

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars VII, Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

    Crankcase was starting to miss the good old days of boredom.

    As Obsidian frantically moved the Alchemor out of the Labyrinth's firing range, a blast came from the larger vessel, but not from any of its guns. Instead, it came from the bridge as a beam of purple energy blew a hole in the front of the vessel.

    "Ha!" Misfire laughed. "They missed! Oh, the irony...."

    "Shut your trap," Crankcase growled. He stomped over to Obsidian and put a hand on the general's shoulders. "Get us out of here! Quickly, while they're preoccupied!"

    "Wait!" Spinister pointed out the viewport. "More stuff is happening!"

    It was a blunt way of putting it, but indeed, there was more to behold. While the bridge continued to smoke, other sections of the ship began to detach, assuming the shape of other ships. Crankcase tensed, expecting them to come after the Alchemor. Instead, they did the opposite, jumping to hyperspace one by one, until all that was left was the husk that had once been the Labyrinth.

    It was again thanks to Spinister's keen eye that they spotted bodies flying out of the bridge, some on their own power, others at the mere pull of the vacuum of space. Upon closer inspection, two of those floating out were none other than Fulcrum and Krok.

    At Crankcase's urging, Obsidian flew the Alchemor towards the two Scavengers. Spinister and Misfire both flew out to retrieve their former comrades and soon returned with an elated Fulcrum and a mystified Krok.

    "Boy, have I never been more glad to see you guys again!" Fulcrum said. "How did you guys all get here?"

    "Through sheer contrivance," Misfire said, grinning. "And also, likewise."

    Fulcrum glanced at him. "No hard feelings?"

    "Nah. It's what Decepticons do anyway. We all have bizarre love-hate relationships with each other."

    "I see you've made new friends in the meantime," Krok muttered, glancing between Flamewar and Obsidian.

    Flamewar snorted. "'Friend' in the loosest sense of the word...."

    "There's more than just her and copter-blades!" Misfire said. "We also found a Prime!"

    Both Fulcrum and Krok tensed. "A Prime?"

    "Well, he calls himself that." Misfire spun circles around his head. "Let's just say he's... yeah."

    Krok exhaled from his vents. "Right. Anyway, we should get going before that... bot comes back to finish us off."

    "What bot?" Crankcase asked.

    Krok ignored him and stepped over to Obsidian. "Take us to Tebris Seven. I know someone there who can--"

    "We're not leaving without Strika," the general interjected.

    "Strika?"

    "She was still on the Labyrinth," Obsidian murmured. "I don't know if she was on the bridge or...."

    "We didn't see her on the bridge," Fulcrum said quietly. "I'm sure we would have noticed her."

    "Are you calling his wife fat?" Misfire asked.

    "No!" the K-Con said hastily. "I'm just saying... I mean, I'm pretty sure Krok or I would have recognized her."

    "He has a point," Krok said to Obsidian. "I doubt Strika was on the bridge with us, and she definitely wasn't caught in the blast. She must have been on one of the other ships."

    Obsidian's shoulders sagged. "Then why isn't she answering my call?"

    "Could be something or someone is preventing her from doing so," Fulcrum suggested. "Just a thought."

    "We have to go after them," Obsidian said. "I can't... I can't stand to...."

    "Okay," Krok said. "We'll go after them."

    "What?!" Crankcase exclaimed. "Are you for real?"

    Krok nodded. "We Decepticons must look out for each other. That's something I used to always stand by, until recently...."

    "No kidding?" Misfire muttered.

    "...But now I realize the error in my drifting from my ideals. Together, we are far more stronger than we are apart."

    Crankcase made a gagging sound. "Oh, god...."

    "As the saying goes: United we stand, divided we--"

    "Okay, we get it!" Flamewar snapped. "So where do we go now?"

    Krok looked at Obsidian, who said, "The Labyrinth was on course for an uncharted system deep in the Neutral Territories."

    "Can you get us there?"

    "It'll take some time, but yes."

    "Then let us not waste any more time."

    "Wait," Spinister said. "What about the others floating out there? Should we bring them along to?"

    Krok's expression darkened. "They're what got us into this mess, Spinister. Leave them."

    "Still, we could use the extra numbers," Fulcrum said. "Just saying...."

    "We still have plenty of former prisoners on board," Obsidian said. "They should prove to be enough."

    Misfire grinned cheekily at Flamewar. "Heck, all we need is Miss Hot Stuff here to burn the place down with her super powers and good looks!"

    Flamewar glared at him as she folded her arms. "I'm only sticking with you in the hopes that your endeavors lead me to Megatron."

    Krok quirked an eye ridge at her. "Megatron?"

    "Oh, that's right." Misfire chuckled sheepishly. "She's been imprisoned here for ten years. She doesn't... oh, dear."

    Flamewar's optics flared. "What? What is it?"

    "Can you guys take this outside?" Crankcase asked. "I'm not in the mood for being melted."

    As Misfire escorted an agitated Flamewar, Krok crossed his arms as he looked to the stars. "Looks like the Scavengers are back in business."

    "I thought you hated that name," Fulcrum said.

    "I do. But it's who we are -- and the rest of the universe hates us for it."

*  *  *

    "Can you guys understand what I'm saying?"

    None of the Monstercons answered Nitro Zeus as they all floated in space. He knew they were all on the frequency, so they either a. were ignoring him or b. couldn't understand him. He was starting to bet on the former.

    "Um... woof? That's the sound luponoids make, right? Or is that... no, yeah, that's what they sound like."

    He continued to make various animal sounds in the hopes that at least one of them would respond. Then, just as he thought he was making progress by making Amphibboid noises, all nine Monstercons vanished before his optic.

    "Hey, what? I thought we had something!"

    That was when the black and silver mech he had seen earlier appeared before him.

    "You again!" Nitro Zeus exclaimed. "Finally decided to come back for me, eh? Just couldn't resist my good looks or my charm or--"

    The mech touched Nitro Zeus on the shoulder and all that was left floating in space was the empty husk of the Labyrinth.

*  *  *

    The one who called himself Sentinel Prime stood alone in his subconsciousness.

    Images flashed past him. Images from a past long forgotten. He saw faces of those who had long since passed. Cities that had long since fallen.

    He saw the Fall of Aegiax.

    He saw the Annexation of Protohex.

    He saw the rise and fall of the Iron Armies.

    He saw the murder of Nexus Prime and the exodus that followed.

    Everything was blurred. Was this how he remembered it? Was this how things had gone down? Or had time taken out vital pieces; conflate and reduce certain events?

    What he did know for sure was that he could hear a voice calling his name; a voice he had not heard in several millennia.

    Infinitus.

    "Master?" Sentinel gasped.

   He has returned, Infinitus. He who was exiled.

    "The Fallen...."

    Yes, but he has reclaimed his forsaken name. He is gathering an army as we speak.

    "What can I do, master?" Sentinel asked. "I am trapped within my own mind. I do not know how to awaken."

    Patience. In due time, you will awaken. The ones you are in the custody of are en route to one of your fellow heralds. Once they reach their destination, I shall awaken you.

    "But why not now? Why must I wait?"

    But no answer came and Sentinel was again left to his thoughts.

    I will not fail you, he swore to himself. I will see to it, master. The Primes shall rise again.

TO BE CONTINUED

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars VII, Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

    "Alchemor has successfully disconnected, captain."

    "Excellent," Quickswitch said, pacing back and forth on the bridge. "Prepare to target it for destruction. No need to hurry, though; they won't be going anywhere."

    As Plummet proceeded with his duties, the door to the bridge opened and a part of twelve entered, comprising of the Decepticons they had captured as well as Darkstar, who had been sent to retrieve them. Upon entering the bridge, one of the Pack -- a blue elk-like Decepticon -- looked around and twisted his face in disgust at the numerous Autobots he saw present.

    "Ey, what's the big idea here? What are Autobots doin' here? Is dis some sort of trap?"

    "Please, before you get agitated, let me make some things clear," Quickswitch said. "We are not your enemies."

    "Those red badges say otherwise," growled Fracture. "What's going on here? Autobots and Decepticons working together?"

    "Hang on a second," Fulcrum murmured, looking around the bridge. "I recognize some of these bots. They were on that space station Misfire and I were taken to last month."

    "Ah, so you were present for the Fortress incident." Quickswitch smiled, though it was hardly a mirthful one. "What a coincidence, seeing as the nine you've just met are also associated with us."

    Steel Jaw looked perplexed at this. "You mean us? I don't know what you're--"

    "Tarantulas has been wondering where Gigatron's prospects had gotten to. Shall I give him a call, tell him you're here?"

    The lupine Decepticon's optics went wide. "No. No! Not him! I thought we had gotten away from him!"

    Quickswitch smirked. "Well, you did. But now you've caught up with him. Small world, isn't it?"

    Before Steel Jaw could respond, Plummet suddenly turned in his seat. "Uh, captain?"

    Quickswitch glared at him. "This had better be important...."

    "The Alchemor--"

    "Is it not destroyed? I thought I ordered you to--"

    "Sir, it's somehow regained power," Plummet said. "It's... it's heading right for us!"

*  *  *

    "How are you doing this?"

    "We're not doing anything!" Crankcase said, holding onto a nearby slab as the Alchemor moved shakily around them.

    "Well, someone's doing something!" Flamewar snarled. "Never in time I've spent here had something like this happened!"

    "Don't worry, everyone!" Misfire called out. "Spinister's on the trail!"

    The other two Decepticons saw that Spinister had vacated the lab, running down the hall. After regaining their balance, the other three went after him, leaving Sentinel Prime behind.

    Following Spinister through a winding maze of corridors, they soon ended up on the ship's bridge, where they found a lone mech at the controls. The black copter-bot did not seem to notice their arrival until Flamewar hollered at him.

    "Obsidian! You were the last person I'd expect to be behind something like this! How could you hold your own kind prisoner?"

    Obsidian glanced back at her, only to return to return his attention to the ship's controls. "I don't have time for you. I must contact Strika."

    "Why?" Crankcase asked. "Do you know what's going on?"

    "No, I don't," Obsidian replied. "We were detached for some reason. I don't know if it was by accident or--"

    "Detached? Detached from what?"

    Sighing to himself, Obsidian said nothing as he advanced the ship towards a large shape. As it got closer, a light blinked on the console and Obsidian accepted the call.

    "Do not be alarmed, Quickswitch!" the Decepticon general said. "I am simply reattaching to the Labyrinth--"

    "How are you even moving?" a cold voice interjected. "I thought your power had gone out."

    "I was able to get things back online. Landslide has been dispatched--"

    "How? Was he attacked by inmates?"

    Obsidian glanced back at the others. "Yes. I have yet to get them back in their cells, so you might want to--"

    "I'm sorry, Obsidian, but I can't let you reattach."

    "What?!" Obsidian exclaimed. "But... I'm still here! You can't--"

    But the call had already ended. Outside, large guns were telescoping out from the Labyrinth and aiming at the Alchemor. 

    "Ah, well," Misfire sighed. "At least I'll die by the side of a beautiful woman."

    Flamewar responded by elbowing him in the abdomen, causing him to keel over.

    "C'est la vie...."

*  *  *

    "Quickswitch," Darkstar murmured, staring at Quickswitch as he hung up on Obsidian. "What are you doing?"

    "Lightening the load," Quickswitch replied coolly. "The Alchemor has always been a burden, what with carrying so many dangerous Decepticons. I should have done this long ago."

    "But Obsidian is still on board!" Darkstar protested. "You can't just kill him as well! Regardless of differing factions, we are all still the Secret Order! We must look out for each other."

    Quickswitch sighed. "I admire your ideals, Darkstar. But we've already lost so much. We can't afford to take any more risks. The needs of the many out--"

    The sound of a gun clicking prompted Quickswitch to turn around and face the Seeker. In her hands was a large black cannon with red markings. Judging by the widening of Quickswitch's optics, it was obvious he recognized what it was.

    "Is... is that...?"

    "The Requiem Blaster," Darkstar confirmed. "At least, that's what these guys claim it is. I was going to show it to you later... but I think now is an appropriate time."

    Quickswitch sneered at her. "You wouldn't dare fire upon me. Even if you did manage to kill me and somehow survive, you would receive swift and just retribution."

    Darkstar smirked, a gleam in her red optics. "Typical Autobot behavior. You try so hard to make yourselves look big, yet you fail to realize your own naivete."

    Behind Quickswitch, Plummet rose from his seat and pointed a gun at Darkstar. "Put it down, Decepticon," he said darkly.

    "Not on your life, Autobot," Steel Jaw said as he and the rest of the Pack drew guns of their own. "Besides, the Requiem Blaster belongs to us."

    "You?" Quickswitch laughed. "As if some poor Monstercon could possibly ever be worthy of an artifact of the Thirteen."

    "None of you are worthy."

    Suddenly, there was a flash of light and materializing on the bridge was a large mech in black and silver armor. He whirled to Darkstar and lifted a hand, causing the Seeker to freeze in place as the Requiem Blaster floated out of her hands and into his.

    "Finally," the masked robot said, his ancient voice reverberating. "After so long...."

    Taking the weapon, he attached it to his arm. After adjusting it to his liking, he took a moment to admire it.

    "They thought they could keep me from my destiny. How very wrong they were."

    While everyone else stared on in awe and horror, Quickswitch managed to maintain his composure. Clearing his vocal processor, he stepped up to the stranger.

    "Excuse me, but... just who are you?"

    The mech inclined his head towards the Autobot as if just noticing him for the first time. Without moving, the warrior said, "I am of many names and titles. My original name has been forgotten by time, my true honorific rescinded by history. Those who fear me call me... the Fallen."

    At this, Quickswitch stepped away from the ancient mech, optics wide in shock. The Fallen continued to stare at him as he took aim with the Requiem Blaster.

    "But I refuse to go by that title any longer. Soon, all shall kneel before the first named, the true Prime."

    The barrel of the Requiem Blaster glowed as Quickswitch continued to back up.

    "All hail Megatronus."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars VII, Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

    "Another Decepticon ship?"

    "Looks like it, captain," Plummet said, looking over his monitor. "Can't determine the model, but it's carrying about twelve Decepticons."

    "We're rounding them up like Porcineacons, aren't we?" Quickswitch commented, shifting in his seat. "Dispatch a Decepticon team to greet them. Assuage any suspicions they may have for the time being."

    Plummet nodded as he did as ordered. "And the Alchemor sector? Have you decided what to do there?"

    "I take it their generator is still out?"

    "Yes, sir."

    Quickswitch rubbed his chin. "The prisoners will have probably been freed... I doubt even Landslide will have been able to hold them off." He then waved a dismissive hand. "Disconnect them."

    Plummet glanced back at him. "Are you sure, captain? What about Landslide's Headmaster operation."

    "His 'operation' was a redundant one from the beginning. I'm through obliging him. Disconnect the Alchemor... and obliterate it."

*  *  *

    Misfire was in love.

    He had always had a thing for femmes -- something about their (usually) slender frames just got to him for some reason. But this one... this one had definitely just stolen his spark. It was the flames that did it for him, really.

    He watched on in awe as Flamewar spread her flames throughout the lab, melting down all of its staff and equipment. The black copter-bot had somehow managed to sneak away while Landslide stood at the center of the room, surrounded by a circle of fire. He fixed his optics on the crazed Flamewar.

    "You're not going to accomplish much by doing this," he growled. "Even if you manage to kill me, there is no way you'll be able to escape."

    "Okay." Flamewar shrugged as she sauntered over to him, fire crackling at her fingertips. "Honestly, I didn't even plan that far ahead. Just for this moment."

    She then burst into a hysterical laugh as she dug her servos into Landslide's chest. The technoist cried out in agony as heat seeped into his chassis, melting his internals. After a moment, Flamewar pulled out and let Landslide collapse. He writhed in pain for a moment before shutting off for good.

    "That was hot," Misfire commented. "You're hot. I love you. Please marry me."

    Flamewar turned to give him a bemused look before glancing over at Crankcase and Spinister, who were still standing in the doorway.

    "He's with you, isn't he?"

    "No," Crankcase said. "Never met him before in my life."

    "Yeah, you could've just killed him too," Spinister said. "In fact, you can still do that. Right now. Go ahead. Please."

    "Sorry, boys, but I'm kinda exhausted right now." Flamewar proceeded to free Misfire from his restraints before looking over to an orange mech laying nearby, his armor partially scorched. "What about that guy? Is he still alive?"

    "That's my new friend," Misfire said, sitting up. "His name's Sentinel Prime."

    "Uh...." Crankcase frowned. "Sentinel Prime's dead."

    "I know, but that's what he calls himself."

    "Great, another crazy," Flamewar muttered. "Maybe we were being held here for a reason...."

    "Well, at this point, we might as well call ourselves something," Crankcase said. "Like, the Crazy Six or... the Sextuplets of Despair."

    Misfire frowned. "But... there's only five of us."

    "Well, we don't have to include the Autobot--"

    "No, I mean... there's only five of us here. You two, me, Miss Hottie, and Sentinel."

    "No, there's also Nitro--" Crankcase turned around, only to see that Nitro Zeus was no longer there. "--Zeus?"

    "Nitro Zeus?" Misfire laughed. "Wow, and I thought 'Misfire' was--"

    But before the magenta Decepticon could finish, the whole place began to shake violently, sending all four to the floor....

*  *  *

    Ever since he had been imprisoned on this ship, Nitro Zeus had desired nothing more than freedom. But this was ridiculous.

    He held on for dear life as the floor beneath him split open and the door he had been walking towards fell out of reach. Before he knew it, there was a sudden gust of wind and he was being flung out into space.

    Is this karma? he wondered as he spiraled away. Does Primus really give so much of a scrap for those losers that he's punishing me for ditching them?

    Naturally, his questions were left unanswered and he was left watching in silence as a large section of the massive vessel disconnected, forming another ship. As he watched the Alchemor float away aimlessly, he detected a flash of light occur on the rest of the vessel.

    Standing there was a robot clad in black and silver armor with purple accents. A mask with blue slits concealed their face while a cannon adorned each arm. All in all, they looked like prime Decepticon material.

    Accessing his internal radio, Nitro Zeus was able to patch a call to the mysterious stranger. "Hey, pal! Mind giving a fellow 'Con a hand? I've got an inhibitor claw on me and I can't--"

    Before he could finish, the mech was gone in a flash of light.

    "...Jerk."

*  *  *

    Agonizer sat alone in the cargo hold of the Pack's ship, beaten and tired. The Monstercons hadn't exactly been gentle in their interrogation of him, and he still didn't know what they wanted from him. Something about a Talisman?

    Truth be told, he had never really had that much of an interest in the so-called "artifacts of the Primes." Most of them tended to be useless trinkets like a quill or a mask or even a dumb old rock. It was laughable to even consider seeking them out.

    But as of the last month or so, he had been put on the lookout for one artifact in particular: the Requiem Blaster. This had been at the request of his ever-so mysterious contact Omega Trion, who had supplied him with many items of interest over the last seven months.

    Omega Trion had promised a great reward for procuring the Requiem Blaster. For Agonizer, it had been the opportunity of a life time... an opportunity that had just gone down the drain.

    Agonizer hung his head in sorrow. He wondered if he would ever make it back to Troja Major, if he would ever be among his collection again. He had spent so many years acquiring it all. To lose it all just like that....

    "Agonizer."

    The former Decepticon snapped his head up and yellow optics beheld a large black figure standing over him. Although their face was concealed, Agonizer never forgot a body type and he smiled brightly.

    "Omega Trion! Thank Primus you're here! The Requiem Blaster--"

    "Is not here," Omega Trion intoned.

    Agonizer's smile faltered. "Wh-what? But... it's just in the other room! Steel Jaw and his Pack have it--"

    "Yes, they do," Omega Trion interjected. "But they are no longer here. They have left the ship with the Requiem Blaster."

    "Then... then we shall go after them!" Agonizer said. "I may be a curator but I'm still a Decepticon soldier at spark! I can still...."

    He trailed off as he felt something dig into his chassis. Looking down, he saw a spear had been plunged into his chest, its tip brushing against his spark. His eyes moved to the pair of hands that held the spear before following them up to stare back at Omega Trion.

    "But... I... did as you...."

    "Yes, you did," Omega Trion said. "You have thus outlived your usefulness."

    He thrust the spear further and Agonizer's entire body spasmed before going limp.

    "Enjoy your reward."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars VII, Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

    This place was a labyrinth.

    Crankcase still couldn't wrap his mind around it. Every corner they turned led them into another block of prison cells, each one looking different than the least. Pristine silver walls transitioned into old rusted walls into mismatched, patched up walls.

    Even when they tried going back, they simply ended up in an completely different hall, not looking anything like the one they had just been down before. It was like the entire place was shifting all around them.

    What was this place? And why were the Autobots using it when they never had before?

    Eventually, the Triggercon brought them all to a halt. "Stop," he said, rubbing his head. "We're obviously not getting anywhere. We're wasting time."

    "What would you have us do then?" Nitro Zeus snidely asked. "Are you gonna blast a way through?"

    "Shut up and let me think." Crankcase looked around at the other cells around them. Most of them were empty, save for a few holding Decepticons; some he recognized, some he didn't. None of them seemed to have noticed the three escapees though.

    "No one seems to be eager for a breakout," Crankcase observed aloud.

    "You think we haven't tried?" snapped a black and red Decepticon with a flame deco. "It's impossible to get out of here. Even if you get past the ray shield, good luck getting further than that."

    "Hey, I know you," Crankcase said, turning to the femme. "You're Flamewar, one of the first Decepticons."

    "First?" Flamewar scoffed. "I'm not that old, darling. I didn't join until a century before the Battle of Iacon. I was part of Trannis' inner circle for a time though. I can see where you'd get the idea."

    "Where have you even been? No one's heard from you since Megatron went missing a hundred years ago."

    "Why, where do you think I've been?" Flamewar sneered. "I've been searching for Megatron. From one corner of the galaxy to the next, high and low. I was even forced to work with the Star Seekers in my quest for a time, only to end up here."

    "How long have you been here?" Crankcase asked.

    "What cycle is it?"

    "Uh...." Crankcase scratched his head. "9815."

    Flamewar thought for a moment. "I've been here... for too slaggin' long."

    "Have you tried breaking out?" Nitro Zeus asked.

    "Oh, yes. Many times. Try to guess how successful I've been."

    "Well, there must be some way out!" Nitro Zeus exclaimed. "I don't see how anyone, let alone some Autobots, can maintain a place like--"

    He was cut off by the sound of Spinister using all his might to pull out the mismatched panels of the ceiling, exposing structure beams and some kind of machinery overhead. He then took his shotgun and squeezed its barrel inside.

    "Stand back," he ordered.

    "Spinister," Crankcase grumbled. "Your gun can't be that powerful to blast an opening."

    "Who says I'm making an opening?" Spinister then pulled the trigger and all power went out in the block, including the ray shield protecting Flamewar's cell.

    The Decepticon femme cackled, a shrill sound that made Crankcase quaver. "I see what you're getting at, love." Suddenly, the room was illuminated as flames ignited from her hands. "And I think I like it."

*  *  *

    Things happened far too quickly for Misfire's liking.

    One minute, he and Sentinel Prime were standing there, watching Galvatron as he tore off heads from numerous bots. Not once did Sentinel move to stop him; it was almost as if he was shell-shocked.

    Then, before he knew it, everything was fading from existence. First Galvatron, then his victims, Cybertron, and finally, Sentinel Prime himself. After that, Misfire was brought back to reality.

    The lab had suddenly gone dark, save for a dim overhanging light. Landslide was barking out orders as he moved around frantically. Shaking his head a little, Misfire was able to get his left audio receptor to pick up sound.

    "--throughout this sector! Find out what happened. Hopefully it's just a faulty generator."

    "Does this happen often?" asked the copter-bot.

    "It's bound to eventually," said Landslide. "That's the price one pays for working on a 'ship' that's an amalgamation of others."

    The copter-bot inclined his head to a computer screen Landslide was standing at. "Were you able to get what you needed from the patch?"

    "No," Landslide said bitterly. "I knew I should have just gone in myself. That mech wasted too much time."

    "Should I dispose of him then?"

    "Please do."

    Misfire's optics went wide as the black Decepticon hovered over to him. Still confined to the slab, he was left helpless as the copter-bot produced a claw-like device....

    At that moment, a light illuminated the hall outside and all those present turned around to see a feminine figure standing there, her entire body covered in flames. Behind her, descending from a newly made hole in the ceiling, were three other bots; two of which happened to be Crankcase and Spinister....

    "Flamewar!" Landslide exclaimed. "How did you--? I thought we had your powers disabled!"

    "You can't disable super-powers, darling," Flamewar replied, her orange optics gleaming. "Subdue, perhaps, but only for a time. And I've been held captive for nearly ten years...."

    A ball of flame appeared in each of her hands.

    "More than enough time to get them back."

*  *  *

    "What in Primus' sweet name am I looking at?"

    Several optics all stared in awe at the massive vessel that shadowed over them. It was hard to call it a ship, as it was so much more than that. In fact, it was more of a hodge-podge combination of ships, all welded in together. It was a behemoth of a craft, if it could even still be called that.

    "I'm still waiting for an answer," Steel Jaw said.

    "Whatever it is, it's got us caught in a tractor beam," said Fracture, the Pack's pilot. "I can't move out of it."

    "Hang on," Krok said. "I recognize some of those ships. That one on the left... I'm pretty sure that's the Nominus II."

    "And the one on top...." Thunderhoof narrowed his optics. "Ain't dat the Alchemor? The ship dat brought us to Garrus-16?"

    Steel Jaw stiffened. "So it is. I had no idea the Autobots were interested in such... unique ships."

    "So what do we do?" Fracture asked. "Just let them capture us like wusses or do we fight back?"

    "Hmm." Steel Jaw tapped his chin. "If only we had a weapon that could take out multiple bots at once."

    Krok glared at the lupine Decepticon. "You can't be seriously considering--"

    "I am, Krok," Steel Jaw snarled back. "And there's nothing you can do about it. Unless you wish to die, or worse be the Autobots' prisoner, you best let me handle this."

    "But wait," Fulcrum said. "Krok said he was detecting hundreds of Decepticons on that ship. How do we know its crewed by Autobots?"

    "Have you not heard of da Alchemor?" Thunderhoof snapped. "It's a prison ship. Autobots like to take 'Cons prisoner. Trust me; we would know."

    "Actually, he might have a point," Steel Jaw said. "We should wait until we meet our would be captors. Still, we should be prepared all the same. Let's gather at the ramp and arm ourselves."

    As Steel Jaw, Fracture and Thunderhoof vacated the cockpit. Krok turned to glare at Fulcrum. "Looks like somebody is Steel Jaw's favorite."

    "I'm sorry!" Fulcrum replied, holding up his hands. "I didn't think he would respond like that."

    "Whatever," Krok muttered, brushing past the K-Con. "Just don't expect me to always have your back. There's only so much I'm willing to do for you."

    Fulcrum did not have the chance to protest before the Monoformer was gone.

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars VII, Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

    This was not reality.

    Or, at least, Misfire hoped it wasn't. Because otherwise that would mean Galvatron was somehow back from the dead and about to kill him.

    The purple warlord sneered as he lifted a giant axe over his head. Before he could deliver the killing blow, a blaster bolt tore through his chest and brought the ancient warlord down.

    "Be gone, evil doer!" a booming voice called out just as a tall orange bot came into view. He extended a hand to Misfire. "Are you all right, citizen?"

    Before Misfire could answer, a voice called out, "Prime!"

    Both bots turned around to see Galvatron back on his feet, no longer bearing a hole in his chest.

    The orange mech assumed a defensive position. "Give up, Galvatron! The day is mine!"

    "No, it shall be mine!" Galvatron roared as he lunged at Prime. A single gunshot was all it took to vaporize him.

    "Perhaps now the Darklanders will understand that it is unwise to challenge Sentinel Prime," Misfire's savior boldly declared.

    Oh, give me a break. Misfire got back to his feet and dusted himself off. "So," he said, looking up at the Prime. "You do this for a living or something?"

    "It is my duty to defend Cybertron all those who dare do it ill."

    Misfire slowly nodded. "Right... what did you say your name was again?"

    "Sentinel Prime," the warrior proudly stated.

    "Sentinel Prime?" Misfire cocked his head. "Aren't you... you know, dead?"

    Sentinel laughed. "Of course not! How else would I be standing before you?"

    "No, no, I mean... you really should be dead."

    "He soon will be!" From behind Sentinel came a raging Galvatron, axe raised high. "He shall fall just like all the others!"

    Sentinel laughed as he destroyed Galvatron just as easily as before. "Typical posturing from a Darklander. Where does Megatronus find these bots?"

    Megatronus? Misfire knew a Megatron, but not a Megatronus. What kind of a name was that anyway? Besides, didn't Galvatron overthrow Megatron? Why would one be working for the other? He knew none of this was real... but all fantasies were built off of at least some truth.

    "Who's Megatronus?" Misfire decided to ask, hoping to get at least some idea as to what was going on.

    "Why, none other than the dreaded leader of the evil Darklanders," Sentinel Prime said. "He and his forces are spreading chaos all across Cybertron in the name of Unicron."

    Okay, that definitely wasn't right. Either this guy was off his rocker or something else was going on here. Why was he even here to begin with?

    "Enough about that though, "Sentinel said. "It is too dangerous for you to be out here, with the Darklanders invading. Let me get you to--"

    He reached out to grab Misfire's arm, only for his hand to phase through. The Prime recoiled, staring at the Scavenger wide-eyed.

    "You're... you're not real," he murmured.

    "Yeah, none of this is," Misfire said. "You're in dreamland, pal."

    "You mean this...." Sentinel looked all around him, gesturing to the many Galvatron corpses that now littered the ground. "None of this is real?"

    "Nope." Misfire kicked at the ground. His foot phased right through. "Sorry to rain on your parade. Looked like you were having fun."

    But Sentinel wasn't paying attention to him anymore. Instead, he was staring off into the distance, a forlorn look in his eyes. Misfire followed his gaze and saw yet another Galvatron standing there, holding something up in his hand. Adjusting his optic, Misfire deduced it to be a severed head.

    "Charming," he muttered.

    "Is this all Nexus Prime has to offer?" Galvatron bellowed. "These pathetic abominations? These Headmasters?"

    Misfire looked to Sentinel, expecting him to shoot at Galvatron again. But the Prime simply stood there, silently staring as Galvatron's laughter rang in their ears.

*  *  *

    "What did you say this was again?"

    "The Requiem Blaster," Steel Jaw said, staring at the weapon in question on the table in front of him. "Supposedly."

    Thunderhoof snorted as he shot a glance at Krok and Fulcrum, confined to the wall by a steel beam. "And just why would a pair o' Genericon mooks be carryin' somethin' like dat?"

    "Who knows?" Steel Jaw said. "And honestly, who cares? Point is, we have it now, meaning no one will question or challenge our authority."

    "We'll see 'bout dat," Thunderhoof said as he exited the room.

    Left alone with the two Scavengers, Steel Jaw shifted his gaze to the pair. "You know, you don't have to stay there for the whole trip. I would be willing to accept you into the Pack."

    "Not in a million years," Krok snapped. "A fancy little toy isn't going to get you anywhere. This endeavor of yours is going to fail like all the others."

    "Uh-huh." Steel Jaw then looked to Fulcrum. "What say you, friend? Does Krok here speak for you as well?"

    "Uh, well...." Fulcrum cleared his throat. "I mean, I have nothing to go on but his words. I've never even heard of you."

    Steel Jaw flashed him a grin. "Is that right? Do you think it's fair to go on just that? Are his words enough?"

    "Uh...."

    "Don't listen to him, Fulcrum!" Krok said. "His tongue is as silver as a--"

    "I think you should leave, Krok." Getting up, Steel Jaw removed the beam and grabbed Krok by the arm. "Let Fulcrum and I have a little chat, so we can get to know each other better."

    As Krok struggled in his grip, Steel Jaw made a whistle and a crab-like Monstercon skittered in.

    "Clampdown, please take Krok here and find a good place for him to rest," Steel Jaw said. "Maybe near the airlock, in case we need to lighten the load."

    Clampdown's grille-like mouth curved into a grin and he moved to take Krok... only to cry out, pointing a pincer in alarm.

    "Boss, behind you!"

    Steel Jaw turned around in time to see Fulcrum hefting up the Requiem Blaster. Alarmed, the lupine Decepticon released Krok from his grip.

    "What in the Pit are you doing?!"

    "No one threatens my friend," Fulcrum said darkly, aiming the weapon at the Monstercon. "Especially if they want to gain my trust."

    Steel Jaw raised his hands. "Okay. Okay. Let's all just settle down. Put down the weapon and maybe we can get back on the right foot."

    Click click.

    "First thing's first," Fulcrum said, not lowering the large gun. "Give us control of the ship."

    Steel Jaw's expression darkened. "Do you really think you can wrestle control from us? We are more than half a dozen while you are only two."

    "I have a weapon that can obliterate you all in one go. Your argument is invalid."

    Click click click.

    Steel Jaw snorted. "What, and kill yourselves in the process? What do you expect to gain from that?"

    "You think I'm bluffing?"

    "Of course I think you're bluffing! You wouldn't dare do something that suicidal!"

    "You're talking to a K-Con, Steel Jaw. I'm all about suicide."

    Click click click click click.

    "What," Steel Jaw turned on his heel to face Krok, huddled in a corner, "is with all the clicking?"

    "It's not clicking, it's beeping," Krok said. "There are Decepticons in the vicinity."

    Steel Jaw let out a harsh laugh. "No, really? I wouldn't have guessed."

    "Hundreds."

    The Monstercon tilted his head. "Say that again?"

    "Ey, Steel Jaw?" Thunderhoof emerged from the cockpit, seeming completely oblivious to what was going on in front of him. "You should come see dis. And let me just say, fer the record: I'm doublin' my price, 'cos I ain't gettin' paid 'nuff for dis scrap."