BM Episode 4: Arrival
Posted: Tue May 01, 2007 11:41 pm
OK. I've been really flat out with training, work apps and life in general so forgive my absence on the forum for the last few weeks, however I look forward to ranting and raving with many of you at Botcon. Now on to the task at hand. 4th installment of the ongoing series. Hope you like it and as always feedback is greatly appreciated. Enjoy 
Darkness shrouded the entire group as they trekked through the underbelly of Cybertron. The air had progressively grown colder as the abandoned sewer systems stretched further underground and the frigid chill caused the group’s heat sinks to exude steam as the humidity became superheated. Their joints had begun to stiffen and the combined cacophony of whining servo motors and the clanking march of footsteps provided the only ambient noise. A lesser being would have given up much earlier in the piece. Fortunately this crew was not led by such a character.
“Onward.” Rumbled Megatron. He continued forward but was interrupted mid stride.
“Hey, king scales. Why are we crawlin through sewers and not kickin serious tailpipe?” enquired a voice from behind him.
In one swift motion, Megatron spun around and glared at the foolish Buzzsaw who had uttered the question. The growl that emanated from the vicious maw caused the rest of the team to fade into the background which appeared to make Buzzsaw considerably shrink in size before the onslaught. Megatron then turned back and it appeared he would continue moving forward until he spun back around and sent a ball of fiery death roaring down the corridor causing the rest of the unit to reflexively leap to the side. After the fire had dissipated, Buzzsaw let out a cough from blackened audio vents and said “Sorry... Boss...” in a raspy voice.
The tyrant then snarled, turned and spoke. “As I previously stated... ONWARDS!”
As one the group scurried forward to keep pace out of fear of another attack, disappearing deeper underground to a destination only known by the one who could be classified as both leader and captor.
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“Entry into Earth’s atmosphere in half a cycle.” Announced Glider from his Nav console.
The remainder of Cheetor’s crew sat at their posts in the Spear of Primus’ bridge. The vacated seat of Heinland’s a painful reminder of his recent departure.
“Alright.” Replied maintained Cheetor. “Maintain current trajectory. We’ll be through this real soon.”
The chaos of the drive’s explosion had unsettled the group as suspicion and accusation clawed at their thoughts. He needed to maintain a level head and a positive role model for the group. He hoped his good tidings were not premature.
In the aftermath, they had not had any time to further investigate the explosion. Frantic repair work and navigation stability were the primary focus. Thankfully, the residual explosions had dissipated soon after “Nutso” had isolated the fuel lines from the damaged areas. After that he had deactivated life support for all areas except for the bridge to conserve power for the remainder of the flight.
The inevitable witch-hunt would arrive and Cheetor was not looking forward to playing judge in that matter. He pushed those thoughts to the back of mind and focused on the task at hand. “Primus will watch over us.” He said to the crew in a voice that almost convinced himself that it was true.
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Optimus entered through the open doorway which Magnus had clearly left unlocked in anticipation of his arrival. He had been called here after all.
The quarters were exactly the same as he had seen previously in the conversation following Megatron’s disappearance. There was one key difference. No Magnus.
He slowly crept into the room, or at least crept as best as a large transmetal gorilla could manage in such circumstances. Seeing no one, he called out “Ultra Magnus.... sir.... It’s Optimus!”
A voice answered from down a passageway he had not previously been down. “Through here Optimus.”
Proceeding with the same amount of caution which led to him almost completely knocking a large holoart graphic from the wall with one of his arm fins, he eventually came across the old Autobot standing alone on a large open balcony. He was staring at the starry Cybertronian sky. “Beautiful isn’t it?” he asked.
“Sir?” Optimus queried.
“Oh sure its a cliché that’s been around since before anyone can remember but its a true one. I guess that’s why it is a cliché.” He paused briefly before continuing. “It’s just sometimes good to know that things will never change.” At this he looked directly at Optimus for the first time in the conversation. “Unfortunately this is not one of those times.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“The Preds are back up to their old tricks again. They want to continue the trial.”
“What?!” Optimus cried involuntarily.
“I know. Believe me I know.” Magnus responded wearily. “Seems like Megatron’s little disappearance only bought us a small reprieve while they re-analysed their strategies.”
Optimus’ eyes were on fire and he shook violently barely containing his rage. “Of all the..”
“Look.” Interrupted Magus. “I know what you are going through and completely...”
“Do you?!” asked Optimus curtly. “I hope by Primus you do because we went through the Inferno to not only protect ourselves from Megatron’s quest for power, but the entire Cybertronian race as we know it. I didn’t go through all that just to be torn apart by mindless politics!”
“Trust me.” Said Magnus, placing a large hand on the Maximal’s shoulder. “No one understands what you did more than I.” He said the last part wistfully which sent Optimus into silence as he tried to analyse the statement, however before he could ponder for long, Magnus continued “So tomorrow, the circus starts up again. For what I can tell, the Preds are now trying to stretch us thin, what with the constant search for Megatron and the general craziness involved with keeping Cybertron running, this just adds that extra level of complication. Top it off with a media frenzy to rouse the natives and we’re set.” He shook his head and spun Optimus around and clasped his large hands on both of the Maximal’s arms and looked directly into his eyes. “You CAN’T let them get to you. You’re better than that and you have proven yourself to be one of the strongest we have seen in a while.”
Optimus steeled his face and nodded once. “Thank you sir. That means a great deal coming from you.”
Magnus nodded in return. After a moment’s passing he turned away and back to the stars. “They should nearly be there by now.”
It took Optimus a few seconds to realise that Magnus was speaking about Cheetor and his team. “Oh... yes.” He said. “I have every faith in Cheetor. I know he won’t let us down. He has learnt alot in the short time he was with us and I see great things for him in the future.”
“Your boy was sold to me in the original proposal and I know his spark rings true. I just hope that luck does not decide to turn against him.”
“Well, I believe he had a saying for that....”
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“Don’t sweat it bots!!” yelled Cheetor as the Spear of Primus rocked, rolled and buffeted it way through the atmosphere of primitive earth.
Glider was at the controls using every once of his piloting skills to maintain a reasonable descent utilising what little retro-thrusters remained on board. No easy feat.
The rest of the bots strapped into their flight seats could do little else but hold on and wait for it to be all over.
Shaking and shuddering, the Spear fought and struggled against the very forces of nature as the plunge continued. They cleared the stratosphere and the viewscreen, cleared of cloud cover, showed them tearing towards a large body of water.
“Ocean!” yelled “Nutso,” the first to realise their problem.
“I see it! I see it!” Glider yelled back.
Hammer ran over their trajectory figures and declared “We’re falling too hot! We won’t make land at this rate!”
“Fuel, power and retros aren’t really available remember?!” replied Glider “Can you project path to newest land.”
Hammer did so and an overlay of the approaching area flickered onto the viewscreen. A large blob of green indicated the closest land mass, the blue expanse represented the ocean and the small yellow triangle indicated where above the water the Spear currently was. A fine red line projected where they would land and it was very close. If Glider could keep it stable they could just make it to solid land.
Tense minutes rocketed by as Glider continued to wrestle with the controls. “Come on...” Cheetor muttered to himself.
Suddenly there was a large jolt and warning sirens started flashing.
All of the crew yelled out various queries of surprise, some more colourful then others. In response a schematic of the ship replaced the trajectory overlay. The rear stabilizer fin winked red and then went black.
“Oh slag.” Said Bomber.
The rest of the crew silently agreed. The stabilizer not only assisted in keeping the ship on a straight course, but it was a core part of the ship’s aerodynamics. If the fin was gone, the flat surface would generate more down force and apply more pressure on the retros. Bottom line, it would reduce their chance from slim to none.
There was a tense moment as Hammer restored the trajectory map which clearly indicated their devastating new course.
It was at this point that Glider balled his hand into a fist and yelled “I’ve got it! Hold on!” He then grabbed the controls and gripped them doubly. “This is gonna be crazy and rough, but it’s all we got.”
As the Spear’s remains continued to hurtle towards the water, each bot let out a prayer, even “Nutso” performing the sign of Primus.
With only a few thousand meters to spare, Glider activated all the retros to bring the ship horizontal, punishing the hull even more. When the gap had reached mere hundreds of meters he yelled “Hold on! Here comes the crazy!” Without further warning, he activated the retros along one side of the ship causing it to spin on its axis, he then locked the controls in case he succumbed to stasis lock.
The Spear came crashing down to the water’s surface but did not proceed to penetrate. Instead, the ship struck the surface and bounced off a couple of hundred metres into the air, continuing to race towards land. After a few hundred meters, the ship would hit the surface and again catapult itself into the air. Throughout each oscillation, the distance travelled would gradually decrease until it looked as though they would not make it. Fortunately, the momentum carried the battered wreck across the water’s edge and dug a long fissure in the soft sand of the beach, stretching for an entire kilometre. The crew would have greatly appreciated being intact and the beautiful surroundings, had they not all been in stasis lock.
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“Wait.” Megatron ordered. A familiar black spectre had passed before him which meant that his guardian angel was about due for another appearance.
“Uh... Boss?” Thrust enquired from the somewhat preoccupied commander.
The large Predacon stood motionless on the edge of a gaping black precipice which they had just come across. He had remained that way for a number of unsettling moments and his crew was starting to get restless. “Wait here. I shall go on alone.”
“My Lord?” replied Obsidian. “Are you certain that is wise? Perhaps Terris or myself should accompany you just as a precaution.”
“I assure you that I will not be eliminated by the ghosts of Cybertron’s underbelly. Besides it was not delivered as a suggestion.” Responded Megatron. Normally, he would have disciplined such a break in the chain of command, however he had more pressing matters at the moment... and it was somewhat reassuring to have someone he knew he could rely upon in his unit. “Obsidian is in command until I return.” He added before transforming into his Beast mode and diving into the gaping black maw before him.
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“So... it would appear that Obsidian has left our employ and joined with the renegade.” Ramhorn observed to the other two members of the council.
From the central table in the Tripredacus Chamber, holographic projections hovered, displaying collated information about the vanished Predacons. Fortunately, Cicadacon’s assassins had set about removing all other traces of the renegade’s original unit. All except Obsidian. The had watched the vid-record of the assassination attempt in amazement. They had dispatched no less than five elites to eliminate him and it had started out as expected. The five lay in wait as Obsidian exited the mausoleum and headed down his usual back-alley route. Then the trap was sprung as all five agents leapt forward, energo-blades blazing in the darkness. Even with the graininess of the footage and most of the fighting taking place in the darkness, the outcome rung perfectly clear as each energo-blade flickered one by one. Then out of the darkness staggered a single elite before an energo-blade protruded from his chest. The figure dropped to briefly reveal Obsidian’s glowing-eyed visage before he transformed into vehicle mode and sped into the gloom.
“Yess...” Cicadacon agreed. “A sshame for there wass much potential in him.”
“It will not matter in the end, for HIS kind will be eliminated when we complete our plan.” Seaclamp responded.
“Very true.” Agreed Ramhorn. “And the most important point is that we have minimized the number of troops available to him.”
Cicadacon grinned at this statement. “With a low level engineer and a few vagrants, what could he possibly accomplish?” he added with a chuckle.
“We must not get complacent.” Corrected Seaclamp. “Apparently this transmetal Maximal rat is starting to expand the search for Megatron and may soon be making headway.”
“Hmm...” pondered Ramhorn. “I suggest we allow him to dig for as long as it serves our purposes.”
Seaclamp smiled and said “Exactly what I was going to propose. I will send a guardian angel for our little spy.”
“That way we can ensure nothing happens to him unit WE want it to.” Added Cicadacon.
“Yes.” Agreed Seaclamp. “Good. Now we must show this young “Optimus” what it means to cause trouble.” He added in closing before they filed out of the room.
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The large transport pulled up in front of the Cybertronian Judicial Headquarters and was almost instantaneously mobbed by the amassed Cybertronian media waiting before it. Vox recorders hovered by and image collectors flashed as sporadic intervals and the whole scene nearly overwhelmed poor Optimus while he sat inside. Thankfully Enforcer, another of the few remaining Autobots, had his security team ready to resist the surge of traffic as Optimus alighted from the vehicle. The Maximal was met with a bizarre mix of cheers, boos and yelled questions from the crowd. At one point, he was struck by a flying object. He retrieved it from the ground and realised it was a female torso plate. Stunned at the discovery, he dropped it and looked up, with a slightly embarrassed look, at Enforcer who gave him a friendly, knowing smile and beckoned him to enter the halls.
If outside was quite a rabble, then inside was an absolute mad house. Representatives from both sides were arguing over the “Optimus” issue and each spoke passionately. The roar doubled as Optimus made his entry, causing his audio sensors to overload and ring.
“ORDER!” yelled Magnus from the raised podium. Thankfully the request was adhered to with only minor residual rumblings. “Thank you.” Continued the Autobot. “We are here today to continue our previous cross-examination of Optimus Primal’s report on events regarding the golden disk and its eventual destruction.”
“And to seek justice for the loss of such a relic!” added Mindwipe from his own seat.
Magnus turned and glared at the Predacon. “Might I remind Representative Mindwipe that he will not be allowed to run free as he did so in the last proceedings, with this being an officially sanctioned examination. As a result, he will not speak unless it is his specifically allocated time.”
“But...” began Mindwipe, but Magnus cut him off saying. “FOR we are here to administer the law of Cybertron are we not? AND rules should be adhered to.... unless of course the Predacon ruling body wishes to retract their demands for this inquest. In which case, we can all leave now.”
Mindwipe fiercely locked eyes with Magnus but said nothing.
“Very well.” Continued Magnus, turning back to the rest of the hall. “Let us begin.”
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Silverbolt staggered through the doorway to the living quarters he shared with Blackarachnia. His open palm met with the panel and florescent lighting flickered to life around the quaint living area. He continued into the media net room and collapsed into the soft cushions of the couch. The air-filled bags shaped themselves to the contours of his muscled frame and he sagged into their gentle embrace. His tail always seemed to cause a problem with the system and he had no doubt that he would rise with it bent at an awkward angle. This, however, was far from his mind.
The day’s events had drained Silverbolt considerably. It had been difficult since they had all arrived on Cybertron, especially for both Blackarachnia and himself who had been mere protoforms before the Beast Wars started. As a result, there was no history to return to, no pre-existing credit rating and no old friends to call upon. Even with the meagre government supplements for “recently crated beings” they were struggling to make ends meet. This place was nice, but it was far from the shining castle he wished he had to whisk his beloved away from it all. He needed work.
Over the past few days, Silverbolt had been scouring the entire city for any break he could get. He went from interview to interview with his usual optimism, however his happy smile gradually progressed to a rictus grin throughout the process. The first interview went well enough with stories about Silver’s adventures, his strength of character and his honesty. Unfortunately, this over-qualified him to distribute solidified energon rations to the amassed Cybertronian masses from behind a counter. As he tried to rise up through the lower echelons of society, the responses became harsher and colder. Any position above his first attempt demanded a certificate of recognition for each specific field, which would take at least three deca-cycles and copious amounts of debt to obtain. Over-qualified, under-qualified. Poor Silver just could not win. He even contemplated taking out a personal advertisement, but thought that “For sale: one partially used knight. Strong, proud, fast and available for 10 credits an hour.” Just didn’t have the right ring to it.
So here he now sat, in the quarters, staring blankly at the black vastness of the deactivated holo-vid screen as thoughts collided like comets in his mind. Each one flaming, powerful and ten times as destructive as their real world equivalent. Blackarachnia had still not returned today and he was starting to worry about her. He still had no idea what this “Magnus Mission” was all about, but he hated sitting back when his beloved was in potential danger... or... NO! He would not let his mind drift into such dark depths. No. They loved each other and nothing would ever change that.
He shook his head to clear his processor and groaned as he dragged himself to his feet. After a stretch which raised his wings impressively above his head, he stumbled his way over to the dispenser and retrieved some basic rations for the night. He then returned to the couch, activated the holo-vid and settled in to await the love of his life.
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Rattrap sat hunch over the vid-screen containing the data Rhinox had finally managed to obtain from the Predacon military heads. Apparently this Strika character had no qualms about taking her sweet time collating this information, which was conveniently just long enough for the trail to run cold. The Preds, as usual, must be seeking their own glory.
For the last few cycles, he had been playing detective as Optimus had asked him. Once he’d gained a gained a copy of the list of Megatron’s old military unit, he had decided to pay them all a visit. There was only one problem, none of them had been home. It just looked like Megs had managed to get to them before he could or the Pred patrol decided it was high time for a long overdue holiday. All at once? Yeah right, and chopper-face had a taste in pinky fluffy things. The mental quip tore his thoughts back to his lost comrade and he let out a sigh as he admitted to himself how much he missed him. It weighed doubly on him because he knew he would never be able to voice such opinions out loud.
“How’s it going?” enquired a voice from behind him.
Rattrap spun in his chair as he was shaken back to the present and was surprised to see Rhinox standing in the doorway. “Hey big green.” Rattrap replied. “I thought you were lookin after First Aid back at the infirmary.”
“He’s OK.” Rhinox explained. “It was a little tricky because the ability to repair Autobots is a lost art and the only one with the experience was the patient himself. Good thing First Aid’s files were up to date and accessible... well, except for one specific folder... but I suppose everyone needs their little private space.”
“Heh heh. Maybe a few shots of some female med-bots performing “surgery” if ya get my meaning.” Joked the Transmetal rat.
Rhinox simply rolled his eyes and shook his head in response before retrying the original question. “So how’s the search going?”
“Well what can I tell ya? Anyone who knew old Mega-butt decided that right now was the best time for a little holiday. You know sun, surf, get the protos out of the busy city life for a coupla weeks. That kinda thing. Also, none of the Pred channels show indications of Meg’s whereabouts, AND to top it all off, the trail is almost as cold as those two Cybertronian paperweights he slagged in the surgery.” Rattrap shook his head and rubbed his over used optics. “I just wish I knew why Optimus gave me this slaggin job.”
“Are you kidding?” responded Rhinox. “With all of your covert and hacking skills, your ability to handle yourself in messy situations AND the fact that you NEVER let anything go, I can’t think of anyone better.”
This seemed to perk up the smaller Maximal. “Thanks Rhinox.” He said. “I pretty much knew all that, but it helps to hear someone else say it.” He turned back to the screen and scowled at it slightly. “I just wish that this path didn’t just run completely cold. It’s like the investigation’s over before it started.”
Rhinox walked up and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “OK Rattrap. I think that you’ve had enough for one day. Let’s go get a drink.”
Rattrap turned, grinned and said “I know just the place.”
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Megatron landed in the middle of the enormous, dusty auditorium with a resounding thud. Gazing about him, he could see that he stood at the centre of a large arena. Lining the circumference of the room were countless rows upon rows of seats where patrons would witness the show. From the obvious mech-fluid stains on the ground, it was not difficult to determine what type of entertainment had been provided. Up until now, Megatron had only heard rumours about the ancient gladiatorial combats which his predecessor had used as a recruitment program for the early the Decepticons.
Suddenly, the empty, gloomy room transformed into a scene from more glorious times. The walls gleamed and countless Cybertronians sat crammed into their seats within the colosseum. Megatron looked down and the mech-fluid appeared to have been freshly spilled. A prone figure was being dragged through a doorway by the cleanup crew and by the looks of things, this loser would not be coming back.
“You can really feel the magic in the air here.”
The voice caused him to turn around and there standing at the opposite end of the duelling arena was his silver, bullet headed predecessor. “Impressive.” The Dragon responded.
“Yes. This was indeed a glorious time for the Decepticons... Long before cowardice and ‘politics’ infiltrated our ranks.” Mused G1 Megatron. “All forms of Cybertronians would come here to witness these outlawed matches. Even certain members of the Autobot high council....” he grinned before continuing “if only they had known that they were helping a rival faction gain power through their own perversities.”
“I have always been of the philosophy that I trust in the distrust of others.” Responded Megatron. “Corruption and greed have always been excellent attributes to manipulate in others... well that and unflinching honour and glory seekers.”
“Excellent.” Approved the Decepticon. “It appears that you have the proper chords to play the concerto, however let us see if you have the skill to complete it.”
This confused the Predacon, however he was quickly distracted by a figure striding out on to a platform which hovered overhead. He was surprised to see it was G1 Megatron. He glanced back to where he thought the Decepticon had been and the space was empty with only a large closed doorway set in the wall. Looking back up “What is the meaning of this?” he ordered.
G1 Megatron looked down and explained “Every one of my Decepticons endured the Combat Pit before they were accepted. What makes you believe that you are any different?”
“Very well.” Replied the Predacon. “So why aren’t you down here?”
G1 Megatron smiled and said “I have done my time... and besides I want you to fight the best combatant I have ever had under my command.” He then raised his hand and a roar exploded from the crowd as they cheered on the new development. The large door ground open to reveal a gigantic silhouette with glowing red eyes. As its considerable bulk took a step forward into the light, Megatron identified it. “Grimlock.” He said in an awed voice.
The large bot bore the purple Decepticon badge on his chest and glared contemptuously at the dragon as he ignited his blazing orange energo-sword. At this G1 Megatron raised both hands and yelled “BEGIN!” before dropping them again. Grimlock started charging forward with a loud roar and dragon Megatron steeled himself and letting out a roar of his own he leapt towards his test.
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Blackarachnia screamed. Her shrill voice echoed about the small room. She had come here every night since meeting with Agony. Each time, she would climb into the chair, be restrained and the torture would begin.
Agony had clearly been through some rough times and had opted for some undercover work for the Maximals in an attempt to strike back at those who had pained her. She explained that in order to infiltrate this secretive underworld, one must deal with pain. Pain is used as a test of membership, a test of loyalty and most important of all a test of trust. If she could get them to trust her, then that would be half the battle won. Agony had kept any information about the group she was preparing to meet and Blackarachnia preferred it that way for the moment. This way it was easier to keep her loving Bowser out of the loop without directly lying to him.
She felt sick to her core keeping anything from him and could see the concern in his puppy-dog eyes during the brief times that they had been together since she started this mission. It was also hard to see her poor Silver struggling against the corporate machine that Cybertron had become over the years. Anyone would be blessed to have her man working for them, but here he was just another number, another nobody. Her mind often wandered into this unstable ground and she forced it down with one positive thought. The one thing that kept her on top of it all. She was doing it for him. For the both of them. While these clandestine groups plotted and planned their own dark designs, no one was safe. She would tear out this dark anomaly in Cybertron’s culture and she would return to her beloved and they would be truly happy once again.
“Good.” Noted Agony, who had been reading over the data of tonight’s “test”. “You have definitely become tougher, not that you needed much help with that Transmetal 2 body of yours.”
The restraints slipped back into the various sections of the chair releasing Blackarachnia and she peeled herself out of the chair. “So I’m ready?” she asked.
“A few more nights of this then I will arrange a meeting.” Responded Agony. “The Coven will decide if you are truly ready.”
“The Coven? I thought you were after the Tripredacus Council.” Stated Blackarachnia.
“This world is a multi-limbed beast. To strike at its heart, you first need to get past the arms.” Explained Agony.
“And how do you know that this “Coven” is really a part of it all?”
“I’ve been in this game alot longer than you have.” Agony responded almost angrily. She then quickly snapped back to being impassive before adding. “You just have to trust me. I can’t tell you too much until you get past the next stage.”
Blackarachnia stared at Agony for a long moment before shrugging. “Fine. The sooner we get this done the better.”
“Exactly.” Agreed Agony. “Now go. You’ll need your rest for the last few tests.”
“Same time, same channel.” Blackarachnia responded. She had tried to make it a witty retort, however her mind was so occupied with thoughts of her beloved Silver that it merely sounded tired. As she made her way out to the dark, abandoned Cybertronian streets, she thought of her and Silverbolt in each other’s embrace, far away from all of this and she reached up to wipe away a small drop of fluid from the base of her optic. All for him. Always for him.
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Rhinox sat beside Rattrap at the bar in the Cosmic Rust energo-cafe. Rattrap had ordered their drinks and Rhinox was surprised when his own multi-coloured concoction arrived in a large mug with what appeared to be foliage he felt was more at home in the forests of earth back in the Beast Wars. It was apparently called a Longshot Island Iced Trinium. Well it was a funny looking drink but it tasted great. What harm could it do?
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Cheetor groaned as his optics flickered to life. Exiting from emergency stasis lock hibernation was never an enjoyable event. Stiff servos fought against pooled fluid, circuits booted up cold and his entire exo-structure ached as though he had been stepped on by a mountain. His vision began to refocus and he could make out a silhouette looking down on him.
“Hey boss.” It said in a familiar voice.
“B... Bomber?” Cheetor strained through restabilising vocal circuitry.
“Yeah.” Bomber affirmed. “It’s me.”
Cheetor’s vision finally came into focus and he realised that he was no longer within the Spear of Primus. Waves calmly lapped against the sandy expanse of beach with gentle whooshing sounds and the sun shone brightly above making the water glisten and the sand sparkle. Cheetor glanced around him and noted that the rest of the Spear’s crew lay scattered about the beach in stasis lock. The sand showed clear indentations indicating that they had been dragged some distance from the smoking ruin that had formerly been their starship.
After a cough and a shake which finally ensured all his systems were online, Cheetor turned to Bomber and said “Good work” with a smile.
Bomber simply shook his head and replied “That’s the thing, boss-spots, I didn’t do anything.”
A puzzled expression crossed Cheetor’s features and he asked “What?” in a similar tone of voice.
Bomber shrugged and said “I woke up only a few nano-clicks before you. It was pretty clear that no one from the crew had done this because they were all lying there just like you.”
Questions of who and how crossed Cheetor’s mind, but they were interrupted by groans from two of the other prone forms. Bomber scurried over to Hammer and Razor, with Cheetor following suit after finding his footing. Two sets of optics flared to life and Razor slumped forward, clutching his head with his hands. Hammer continued to lay on the soft sand and asked the question for both of them “What the slag happened?”
Cheetor and Bomber then proceeded to explain the situation, however they were interrupted by a voice crying out “BEACH MODE!” As one, the group turned. It was difficult to determine what surprised them the most, the deck chair, the sunglasses, the funny hat or the obvious fact that “Nutso” had not packed any of those items, yet appeared to be enjoying the use of all three. After realising that his jaw was hanging limply open, Cheetor shook his head again and ordered “Nutso” to “Stop foolin around and get over here!” “Nutso” merely shrugged, stood up and by the time everyone had looked back at him, the items had disappeared. All involved thought it best not to ask questions. Thankfully, Glider chose to rise at this point which distracted the group back to the task at hand.
After a short briefing, Cheetor began to formulate a plan. “OK. So we need to figure out where we are and what we have. “’Nutso’, Glider, Razor.” He said, turning to each one “I want you to claw through what’s left of the Spear. Equipment, weapons, supplies. We need everything you can salvage.” The trio nodded at this and set off to the smouldering wreckage. “Hammer, Bomber.” He continued to the remaining two. “Spread out and scout the surrounding area. We’re gonna need a place to call home for a few nights until we can work out a way to the Arc.”
“Already on it.” Assured Bomber. Hammer nodded her agreement then they both transformed to their vehicle modes and raced off to commence the search.
Cheetor smiled at the sight of his team settling in to their jobs and said to himself “It ain’t over till the big fembot sings. We won’t let you down Big-bot.” Had he been more aware of his surroundings, he would have noticed the glow of a pair of optics watching him from the dense foliage nearby.
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“Tankor SMASH!!!” yelled Rhinox as he pounded the next patron with both fists. Rattrap was vainly trying to stop Rhinox and watch his back at the same time. No easy feat. Rip ‘N Tear were busy cutting through the crowd to get to the centre of the disturbance and the entire bar was embroiled in the chaos Rhinox had created. TWO DRINKS!! That was all it had taken for him to forget who he was and take on this primitive persona of Tankor. He had seen Rhinox fight before but this was definitely not him. It was random and strong, however it was very sloppy and he was stumbling about in his drunken stupor. It was only his sheer bulk that kept him out of real trouble... so far.
It had started out as a quiet drink at the bar, a bit of a chat about recent events, however he had miscalculated how much the big guy could actually take and before he knew it things had exploded into this wild brawl. Poor guy had no idea what he was doing, although he would definitely feel it in the morning.
The swirling melee continued around them and it seemed like there was no way out. It would be impossible for Rattrap to carry his friend out of here alone and usually he and Bomber would know when it was too hot to stay and high-tail it out of there. Slag.
A blue bolt tore across the room and struck Rhinox dead centre. The ion cannon did its work and Rhinox collapsed into stasis lock. Well that was one problem solved, but it raised a whole bunch of others. Rattrap dropped down and tried to drag his friend by placing his arms in Rhinox’s armpits however as he feared, the strain was too much on his considerably smaller frame.
Suddenly a drunken reveller leapt from the crowd to attack Rattrap. It was impossible for him to defend himself and he braced for the inevitable impact. After a few moments of nothing, he activated his optics again to see that another Cybertronian had positioned himself between the attacker and Rattrap and had a rock-hard grip around the arm of the assailant. Although no taller than Rattrap, he was an impressive sight. His armour was a mix of orange, black and purple however most of this was concealed by the black cape draped over his shoulders. He then swung his free hand around and punched the attacker in the face, knocking him into stasis lock, and then turned to face Rattrap.
“Who are you?” the Maximal enquired.
“Consider me a friend who is interested in your well-being.” He replied enigmatically. As another patron jumped in to attack he swung his arm back, colliding with the bot’s face, all while he continued to look at Rattrap. “Call me Bazooka.” He added with a grin.
“Alright...” exclaimed a surprised Rattrap. “Thanks. Now can ya give me a hand with big-green here.” He said with a thumb pointing at Rhinox.
“OK.” Responded Bazooka “Can you clear a path?”
“Nothing I do better.” Replied Rattrap with a smile.
“Let’s do it.”
The two bots exchanged positions and Rattrap begun to use passive suppression techniques to create an opening in the mob. Bazooka placed both hands underneath Rhinox’s prone form and let out a roar as his servos whined and struggled. Rattrap was amazed to see the green Maximal rise off the ground as Bazooka slung his over his shoulders. Once he was stable, he gave Rattrap the thumbs-up and they started their slow push to freedom.
-----------
The orange blade came arcing down through the air and collided with the floor where Megatron had been mere moments before. He spun as he sailed through the air and sent a ball of flame at Grimlock. The shot dissipated harmlessly off the Decepticon’s thick armour and Grimlock spun with another swipe of his sword. Megatron raised his dragon arm in an attempt to parry, however the momentum and strength of the blow sent him crashing into the arena wall and he fell hard to the ground spitting up some mech fluid. The blade came sailing down again however Megatron’s wings flapped and shot him into the air, narrowly missing the blow. This time, the blade embedded itself in the ground and Grimlock struggled with the blade to release it. Megatron took this opportunity to land a number of blows on his head, chest and arms. Normally a strike from his new body would send any Cybertronian into stasis lock, however this was not just any Cybertronian and it would take a bit more than brute force to crack this opponent. He gushed out a freezing torrent at Grimlock’s weapon hand, however the ice and the ground holding the trapped weapon shattered and the blade came for another strike. Megatron drove to avoid it once more and then realised how he could affect the leviathan. He waited for the next swing and leapt in so that he was inside Grimlock’s reach and then brought the sharp horns of his dragon arm crashing down to where the Decepticon badge was fixed. The horns sunk in and he twisted to open then gap. Grimlock then swung with his free hand and sent Megatron flying across the room which resulted in a large gaping hole in Grimlock’s chest, where the horns had been locked in. The blow nearly tore Megatron’s arm out of it’s socket, however he clenched his teeth and bore the pain. Grimlock then raised both hands above his head as they clutched the energo-sword and charged forward for the fatal blow. Megatron sat and waited. Seconds passed like hours but Megatron held until the last moment, then shot forward under power of his wings and buried the dragon head in the hole in Grimlock’s chest. He then let out a bestial growl and ignited the fire breath. The inferno tore through the internal workings of the large bot and fire exploded from all joints and vents until the energon cells were hit and the resulting wave sent Megatron back into the wall. Both he and the now empty shell collapsed at the same time with a resounding thud and Megatron panted as his system tried to cool itself down. The silence which followed was deafening, but after a few moments it was replaced by a single, rhythmic sound. Clapping. Megatron looked up to see that the surroundings had returned to the abandoned, gloomy state it had been previously and G1 Megatron was walking towards him with a large smile on his face and his hands slapping to produced the accolade. “Excellent.... Excellent.” He commended. “However it would be interesting to see how you would have fared against the REAL Grimlock.” He added as he indicated the now destroyed training droid lying prone on the ground. “You can program as many mannerisms into these combat units however they never truly have the... imagination of a spark fuelled bot.”
The dragon managed to rise to his feet during the speech and now faced the Decepticon. “So what now?” he enquired.
“Well...” mused G1 Megatron. “Welcome to your new headquarters.”
“Yesss..” said Megatron with an evil grin “This will do quite nicely.”
---------------
Rhinox groaned as he tried to peel himself out of the bed and then collapsed back down when the world started spinning. He looked over and he could see all sorts of fluids staining the floor and would have risen due to fact that he felt so dirty, had the hangover not been so crippling.
“Heh heh. You’re one mean drunk big green.” Said Rattrap who had been standing in the doorway.
“Wha... wha...” started Rhinox.
“Well I got ya back here after you went a little crazy last night.” Explained Rattrap.
Rhinox then realised he was in his living quarters and that he had gone to a bar with Rattrap the previous night. “I’m never drinking again.” Groaned Rhinox.
“Yeah I’ve heard that one before.” Mused Rattrap. “You just take it easy and we’ll have ya walking around in no time.”
He was answered by a groan as Rhinox sunk back into the bed. Rattrap then proceeded back into the media room and began to flick through the stations to see what was on, however his mind was on more pressing matters, such as the Megatron situation and more intriguingly who this Bazooka character was. He had carried Rhinox all the way back here, but then vanished without a trace before Rattrap could enquire further. It didn’t feel right, but at least the guy was watching his back. He just hoped that there wasn’t a big red target symbol painted on there.
------------
“Good work bots.” Said Cheetor to his team.
Razor, Glider and “Nutso” had returned from the wreckage of the ship with plenty of supplies to get them settled in. Together they had managed to construct a temporary HQ which contained a CR chamber dragged from the med-quarters and limited comm.-array both patched to a large battery supply by “Nutso”. Crates of weaponry lay scattered about the area as Razor continued to sift through the equipment. No one wanted a weapon to fail on them in an emergency and Razor was the best bot to check them. Glider had headed out to check on the two scouts after they had set up the main components of the HQ and “Nutso” had vanished back into the belly of the wreckage.
“Hey there big-cat!” exclaimed Bomber as he tore through the foliage and transformed into robot mode, Glider and Hammer following closely behind. “We got some good news.”
“Sweet.” Responded Cheetor. “Good news is always good in times like this.”
“Well we’re in luck because we didn’t end up too far from the Ark.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Affirmed Hammer. “Turns out we landed along the coastline which was closest to the volcano so we don’t have to go trekking around the world.”
“Pretty nice huh?” added Bomber. “I think with all this stuff, it will take no longer than 6 solar days to get there.”
“Great work guys.” Said Cheetor. “We’re here and we’re getting it done. We’ve gone through the worst of it and now its time to show the universe we can look after it.”
The group cheered in response to the speech and they settled in for a night of rest before they abandoned their beach post and started the trek to the Ark and a new destiny for all of them.
Darkness shrouded the entire group as they trekked through the underbelly of Cybertron. The air had progressively grown colder as the abandoned sewer systems stretched further underground and the frigid chill caused the group’s heat sinks to exude steam as the humidity became superheated. Their joints had begun to stiffen and the combined cacophony of whining servo motors and the clanking march of footsteps provided the only ambient noise. A lesser being would have given up much earlier in the piece. Fortunately this crew was not led by such a character.
“Onward.” Rumbled Megatron. He continued forward but was interrupted mid stride.
“Hey, king scales. Why are we crawlin through sewers and not kickin serious tailpipe?” enquired a voice from behind him.
In one swift motion, Megatron spun around and glared at the foolish Buzzsaw who had uttered the question. The growl that emanated from the vicious maw caused the rest of the team to fade into the background which appeared to make Buzzsaw considerably shrink in size before the onslaught. Megatron then turned back and it appeared he would continue moving forward until he spun back around and sent a ball of fiery death roaring down the corridor causing the rest of the unit to reflexively leap to the side. After the fire had dissipated, Buzzsaw let out a cough from blackened audio vents and said “Sorry... Boss...” in a raspy voice.
The tyrant then snarled, turned and spoke. “As I previously stated... ONWARDS!”
As one the group scurried forward to keep pace out of fear of another attack, disappearing deeper underground to a destination only known by the one who could be classified as both leader and captor.
-----------------------------
“Entry into Earth’s atmosphere in half a cycle.” Announced Glider from his Nav console.
The remainder of Cheetor’s crew sat at their posts in the Spear of Primus’ bridge. The vacated seat of Heinland’s a painful reminder of his recent departure.
“Alright.” Replied maintained Cheetor. “Maintain current trajectory. We’ll be through this real soon.”
The chaos of the drive’s explosion had unsettled the group as suspicion and accusation clawed at their thoughts. He needed to maintain a level head and a positive role model for the group. He hoped his good tidings were not premature.
In the aftermath, they had not had any time to further investigate the explosion. Frantic repair work and navigation stability were the primary focus. Thankfully, the residual explosions had dissipated soon after “Nutso” had isolated the fuel lines from the damaged areas. After that he had deactivated life support for all areas except for the bridge to conserve power for the remainder of the flight.
The inevitable witch-hunt would arrive and Cheetor was not looking forward to playing judge in that matter. He pushed those thoughts to the back of mind and focused on the task at hand. “Primus will watch over us.” He said to the crew in a voice that almost convinced himself that it was true.
-------------------
Optimus entered through the open doorway which Magnus had clearly left unlocked in anticipation of his arrival. He had been called here after all.
The quarters were exactly the same as he had seen previously in the conversation following Megatron’s disappearance. There was one key difference. No Magnus.
He slowly crept into the room, or at least crept as best as a large transmetal gorilla could manage in such circumstances. Seeing no one, he called out “Ultra Magnus.... sir.... It’s Optimus!”
A voice answered from down a passageway he had not previously been down. “Through here Optimus.”
Proceeding with the same amount of caution which led to him almost completely knocking a large holoart graphic from the wall with one of his arm fins, he eventually came across the old Autobot standing alone on a large open balcony. He was staring at the starry Cybertronian sky. “Beautiful isn’t it?” he asked.
“Sir?” Optimus queried.
“Oh sure its a cliché that’s been around since before anyone can remember but its a true one. I guess that’s why it is a cliché.” He paused briefly before continuing. “It’s just sometimes good to know that things will never change.” At this he looked directly at Optimus for the first time in the conversation. “Unfortunately this is not one of those times.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“The Preds are back up to their old tricks again. They want to continue the trial.”
“What?!” Optimus cried involuntarily.
“I know. Believe me I know.” Magnus responded wearily. “Seems like Megatron’s little disappearance only bought us a small reprieve while they re-analysed their strategies.”
Optimus’ eyes were on fire and he shook violently barely containing his rage. “Of all the..”
“Look.” Interrupted Magus. “I know what you are going through and completely...”
“Do you?!” asked Optimus curtly. “I hope by Primus you do because we went through the Inferno to not only protect ourselves from Megatron’s quest for power, but the entire Cybertronian race as we know it. I didn’t go through all that just to be torn apart by mindless politics!”
“Trust me.” Said Magnus, placing a large hand on the Maximal’s shoulder. “No one understands what you did more than I.” He said the last part wistfully which sent Optimus into silence as he tried to analyse the statement, however before he could ponder for long, Magnus continued “So tomorrow, the circus starts up again. For what I can tell, the Preds are now trying to stretch us thin, what with the constant search for Megatron and the general craziness involved with keeping Cybertron running, this just adds that extra level of complication. Top it off with a media frenzy to rouse the natives and we’re set.” He shook his head and spun Optimus around and clasped his large hands on both of the Maximal’s arms and looked directly into his eyes. “You CAN’T let them get to you. You’re better than that and you have proven yourself to be one of the strongest we have seen in a while.”
Optimus steeled his face and nodded once. “Thank you sir. That means a great deal coming from you.”
Magnus nodded in return. After a moment’s passing he turned away and back to the stars. “They should nearly be there by now.”
It took Optimus a few seconds to realise that Magnus was speaking about Cheetor and his team. “Oh... yes.” He said. “I have every faith in Cheetor. I know he won’t let us down. He has learnt alot in the short time he was with us and I see great things for him in the future.”
“Your boy was sold to me in the original proposal and I know his spark rings true. I just hope that luck does not decide to turn against him.”
“Well, I believe he had a saying for that....”
---------------------
“Don’t sweat it bots!!” yelled Cheetor as the Spear of Primus rocked, rolled and buffeted it way through the atmosphere of primitive earth.
Glider was at the controls using every once of his piloting skills to maintain a reasonable descent utilising what little retro-thrusters remained on board. No easy feat.
The rest of the bots strapped into their flight seats could do little else but hold on and wait for it to be all over.
Shaking and shuddering, the Spear fought and struggled against the very forces of nature as the plunge continued. They cleared the stratosphere and the viewscreen, cleared of cloud cover, showed them tearing towards a large body of water.
“Ocean!” yelled “Nutso,” the first to realise their problem.
“I see it! I see it!” Glider yelled back.
Hammer ran over their trajectory figures and declared “We’re falling too hot! We won’t make land at this rate!”
“Fuel, power and retros aren’t really available remember?!” replied Glider “Can you project path to newest land.”
Hammer did so and an overlay of the approaching area flickered onto the viewscreen. A large blob of green indicated the closest land mass, the blue expanse represented the ocean and the small yellow triangle indicated where above the water the Spear currently was. A fine red line projected where they would land and it was very close. If Glider could keep it stable they could just make it to solid land.
Tense minutes rocketed by as Glider continued to wrestle with the controls. “Come on...” Cheetor muttered to himself.
Suddenly there was a large jolt and warning sirens started flashing.
All of the crew yelled out various queries of surprise, some more colourful then others. In response a schematic of the ship replaced the trajectory overlay. The rear stabilizer fin winked red and then went black.
“Oh slag.” Said Bomber.
The rest of the crew silently agreed. The stabilizer not only assisted in keeping the ship on a straight course, but it was a core part of the ship’s aerodynamics. If the fin was gone, the flat surface would generate more down force and apply more pressure on the retros. Bottom line, it would reduce their chance from slim to none.
There was a tense moment as Hammer restored the trajectory map which clearly indicated their devastating new course.
It was at this point that Glider balled his hand into a fist and yelled “I’ve got it! Hold on!” He then grabbed the controls and gripped them doubly. “This is gonna be crazy and rough, but it’s all we got.”
As the Spear’s remains continued to hurtle towards the water, each bot let out a prayer, even “Nutso” performing the sign of Primus.
With only a few thousand meters to spare, Glider activated all the retros to bring the ship horizontal, punishing the hull even more. When the gap had reached mere hundreds of meters he yelled “Hold on! Here comes the crazy!” Without further warning, he activated the retros along one side of the ship causing it to spin on its axis, he then locked the controls in case he succumbed to stasis lock.
The Spear came crashing down to the water’s surface but did not proceed to penetrate. Instead, the ship struck the surface and bounced off a couple of hundred metres into the air, continuing to race towards land. After a few hundred meters, the ship would hit the surface and again catapult itself into the air. Throughout each oscillation, the distance travelled would gradually decrease until it looked as though they would not make it. Fortunately, the momentum carried the battered wreck across the water’s edge and dug a long fissure in the soft sand of the beach, stretching for an entire kilometre. The crew would have greatly appreciated being intact and the beautiful surroundings, had they not all been in stasis lock.
------------
“Wait.” Megatron ordered. A familiar black spectre had passed before him which meant that his guardian angel was about due for another appearance.
“Uh... Boss?” Thrust enquired from the somewhat preoccupied commander.
The large Predacon stood motionless on the edge of a gaping black precipice which they had just come across. He had remained that way for a number of unsettling moments and his crew was starting to get restless. “Wait here. I shall go on alone.”
“My Lord?” replied Obsidian. “Are you certain that is wise? Perhaps Terris or myself should accompany you just as a precaution.”
“I assure you that I will not be eliminated by the ghosts of Cybertron’s underbelly. Besides it was not delivered as a suggestion.” Responded Megatron. Normally, he would have disciplined such a break in the chain of command, however he had more pressing matters at the moment... and it was somewhat reassuring to have someone he knew he could rely upon in his unit. “Obsidian is in command until I return.” He added before transforming into his Beast mode and diving into the gaping black maw before him.
-------------
“So... it would appear that Obsidian has left our employ and joined with the renegade.” Ramhorn observed to the other two members of the council.
From the central table in the Tripredacus Chamber, holographic projections hovered, displaying collated information about the vanished Predacons. Fortunately, Cicadacon’s assassins had set about removing all other traces of the renegade’s original unit. All except Obsidian. The had watched the vid-record of the assassination attempt in amazement. They had dispatched no less than five elites to eliminate him and it had started out as expected. The five lay in wait as Obsidian exited the mausoleum and headed down his usual back-alley route. Then the trap was sprung as all five agents leapt forward, energo-blades blazing in the darkness. Even with the graininess of the footage and most of the fighting taking place in the darkness, the outcome rung perfectly clear as each energo-blade flickered one by one. Then out of the darkness staggered a single elite before an energo-blade protruded from his chest. The figure dropped to briefly reveal Obsidian’s glowing-eyed visage before he transformed into vehicle mode and sped into the gloom.
“Yess...” Cicadacon agreed. “A sshame for there wass much potential in him.”
“It will not matter in the end, for HIS kind will be eliminated when we complete our plan.” Seaclamp responded.
“Very true.” Agreed Ramhorn. “And the most important point is that we have minimized the number of troops available to him.”
Cicadacon grinned at this statement. “With a low level engineer and a few vagrants, what could he possibly accomplish?” he added with a chuckle.
“We must not get complacent.” Corrected Seaclamp. “Apparently this transmetal Maximal rat is starting to expand the search for Megatron and may soon be making headway.”
“Hmm...” pondered Ramhorn. “I suggest we allow him to dig for as long as it serves our purposes.”
Seaclamp smiled and said “Exactly what I was going to propose. I will send a guardian angel for our little spy.”
“That way we can ensure nothing happens to him unit WE want it to.” Added Cicadacon.
“Yes.” Agreed Seaclamp. “Good. Now we must show this young “Optimus” what it means to cause trouble.” He added in closing before they filed out of the room.
------------
The large transport pulled up in front of the Cybertronian Judicial Headquarters and was almost instantaneously mobbed by the amassed Cybertronian media waiting before it. Vox recorders hovered by and image collectors flashed as sporadic intervals and the whole scene nearly overwhelmed poor Optimus while he sat inside. Thankfully Enforcer, another of the few remaining Autobots, had his security team ready to resist the surge of traffic as Optimus alighted from the vehicle. The Maximal was met with a bizarre mix of cheers, boos and yelled questions from the crowd. At one point, he was struck by a flying object. He retrieved it from the ground and realised it was a female torso plate. Stunned at the discovery, he dropped it and looked up, with a slightly embarrassed look, at Enforcer who gave him a friendly, knowing smile and beckoned him to enter the halls.
If outside was quite a rabble, then inside was an absolute mad house. Representatives from both sides were arguing over the “Optimus” issue and each spoke passionately. The roar doubled as Optimus made his entry, causing his audio sensors to overload and ring.
“ORDER!” yelled Magnus from the raised podium. Thankfully the request was adhered to with only minor residual rumblings. “Thank you.” Continued the Autobot. “We are here today to continue our previous cross-examination of Optimus Primal’s report on events regarding the golden disk and its eventual destruction.”
“And to seek justice for the loss of such a relic!” added Mindwipe from his own seat.
Magnus turned and glared at the Predacon. “Might I remind Representative Mindwipe that he will not be allowed to run free as he did so in the last proceedings, with this being an officially sanctioned examination. As a result, he will not speak unless it is his specifically allocated time.”
“But...” began Mindwipe, but Magnus cut him off saying. “FOR we are here to administer the law of Cybertron are we not? AND rules should be adhered to.... unless of course the Predacon ruling body wishes to retract their demands for this inquest. In which case, we can all leave now.”
Mindwipe fiercely locked eyes with Magnus but said nothing.
“Very well.” Continued Magnus, turning back to the rest of the hall. “Let us begin.”
------------------
Silverbolt staggered through the doorway to the living quarters he shared with Blackarachnia. His open palm met with the panel and florescent lighting flickered to life around the quaint living area. He continued into the media net room and collapsed into the soft cushions of the couch. The air-filled bags shaped themselves to the contours of his muscled frame and he sagged into their gentle embrace. His tail always seemed to cause a problem with the system and he had no doubt that he would rise with it bent at an awkward angle. This, however, was far from his mind.
The day’s events had drained Silverbolt considerably. It had been difficult since they had all arrived on Cybertron, especially for both Blackarachnia and himself who had been mere protoforms before the Beast Wars started. As a result, there was no history to return to, no pre-existing credit rating and no old friends to call upon. Even with the meagre government supplements for “recently crated beings” they were struggling to make ends meet. This place was nice, but it was far from the shining castle he wished he had to whisk his beloved away from it all. He needed work.
Over the past few days, Silverbolt had been scouring the entire city for any break he could get. He went from interview to interview with his usual optimism, however his happy smile gradually progressed to a rictus grin throughout the process. The first interview went well enough with stories about Silver’s adventures, his strength of character and his honesty. Unfortunately, this over-qualified him to distribute solidified energon rations to the amassed Cybertronian masses from behind a counter. As he tried to rise up through the lower echelons of society, the responses became harsher and colder. Any position above his first attempt demanded a certificate of recognition for each specific field, which would take at least three deca-cycles and copious amounts of debt to obtain. Over-qualified, under-qualified. Poor Silver just could not win. He even contemplated taking out a personal advertisement, but thought that “For sale: one partially used knight. Strong, proud, fast and available for 10 credits an hour.” Just didn’t have the right ring to it.
So here he now sat, in the quarters, staring blankly at the black vastness of the deactivated holo-vid screen as thoughts collided like comets in his mind. Each one flaming, powerful and ten times as destructive as their real world equivalent. Blackarachnia had still not returned today and he was starting to worry about her. He still had no idea what this “Magnus Mission” was all about, but he hated sitting back when his beloved was in potential danger... or... NO! He would not let his mind drift into such dark depths. No. They loved each other and nothing would ever change that.
He shook his head to clear his processor and groaned as he dragged himself to his feet. After a stretch which raised his wings impressively above his head, he stumbled his way over to the dispenser and retrieved some basic rations for the night. He then returned to the couch, activated the holo-vid and settled in to await the love of his life.
------------
Rattrap sat hunch over the vid-screen containing the data Rhinox had finally managed to obtain from the Predacon military heads. Apparently this Strika character had no qualms about taking her sweet time collating this information, which was conveniently just long enough for the trail to run cold. The Preds, as usual, must be seeking their own glory.
For the last few cycles, he had been playing detective as Optimus had asked him. Once he’d gained a gained a copy of the list of Megatron’s old military unit, he had decided to pay them all a visit. There was only one problem, none of them had been home. It just looked like Megs had managed to get to them before he could or the Pred patrol decided it was high time for a long overdue holiday. All at once? Yeah right, and chopper-face had a taste in pinky fluffy things. The mental quip tore his thoughts back to his lost comrade and he let out a sigh as he admitted to himself how much he missed him. It weighed doubly on him because he knew he would never be able to voice such opinions out loud.
“How’s it going?” enquired a voice from behind him.
Rattrap spun in his chair as he was shaken back to the present and was surprised to see Rhinox standing in the doorway. “Hey big green.” Rattrap replied. “I thought you were lookin after First Aid back at the infirmary.”
“He’s OK.” Rhinox explained. “It was a little tricky because the ability to repair Autobots is a lost art and the only one with the experience was the patient himself. Good thing First Aid’s files were up to date and accessible... well, except for one specific folder... but I suppose everyone needs their little private space.”
“Heh heh. Maybe a few shots of some female med-bots performing “surgery” if ya get my meaning.” Joked the Transmetal rat.
Rhinox simply rolled his eyes and shook his head in response before retrying the original question. “So how’s the search going?”
“Well what can I tell ya? Anyone who knew old Mega-butt decided that right now was the best time for a little holiday. You know sun, surf, get the protos out of the busy city life for a coupla weeks. That kinda thing. Also, none of the Pred channels show indications of Meg’s whereabouts, AND to top it all off, the trail is almost as cold as those two Cybertronian paperweights he slagged in the surgery.” Rattrap shook his head and rubbed his over used optics. “I just wish I knew why Optimus gave me this slaggin job.”
“Are you kidding?” responded Rhinox. “With all of your covert and hacking skills, your ability to handle yourself in messy situations AND the fact that you NEVER let anything go, I can’t think of anyone better.”
This seemed to perk up the smaller Maximal. “Thanks Rhinox.” He said. “I pretty much knew all that, but it helps to hear someone else say it.” He turned back to the screen and scowled at it slightly. “I just wish that this path didn’t just run completely cold. It’s like the investigation’s over before it started.”
Rhinox walked up and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “OK Rattrap. I think that you’ve had enough for one day. Let’s go get a drink.”
Rattrap turned, grinned and said “I know just the place.”
--------------
Megatron landed in the middle of the enormous, dusty auditorium with a resounding thud. Gazing about him, he could see that he stood at the centre of a large arena. Lining the circumference of the room were countless rows upon rows of seats where patrons would witness the show. From the obvious mech-fluid stains on the ground, it was not difficult to determine what type of entertainment had been provided. Up until now, Megatron had only heard rumours about the ancient gladiatorial combats which his predecessor had used as a recruitment program for the early the Decepticons.
Suddenly, the empty, gloomy room transformed into a scene from more glorious times. The walls gleamed and countless Cybertronians sat crammed into their seats within the colosseum. Megatron looked down and the mech-fluid appeared to have been freshly spilled. A prone figure was being dragged through a doorway by the cleanup crew and by the looks of things, this loser would not be coming back.
“You can really feel the magic in the air here.”
The voice caused him to turn around and there standing at the opposite end of the duelling arena was his silver, bullet headed predecessor. “Impressive.” The Dragon responded.
“Yes. This was indeed a glorious time for the Decepticons... Long before cowardice and ‘politics’ infiltrated our ranks.” Mused G1 Megatron. “All forms of Cybertronians would come here to witness these outlawed matches. Even certain members of the Autobot high council....” he grinned before continuing “if only they had known that they were helping a rival faction gain power through their own perversities.”
“I have always been of the philosophy that I trust in the distrust of others.” Responded Megatron. “Corruption and greed have always been excellent attributes to manipulate in others... well that and unflinching honour and glory seekers.”
“Excellent.” Approved the Decepticon. “It appears that you have the proper chords to play the concerto, however let us see if you have the skill to complete it.”
This confused the Predacon, however he was quickly distracted by a figure striding out on to a platform which hovered overhead. He was surprised to see it was G1 Megatron. He glanced back to where he thought the Decepticon had been and the space was empty with only a large closed doorway set in the wall. Looking back up “What is the meaning of this?” he ordered.
G1 Megatron looked down and explained “Every one of my Decepticons endured the Combat Pit before they were accepted. What makes you believe that you are any different?”
“Very well.” Replied the Predacon. “So why aren’t you down here?”
G1 Megatron smiled and said “I have done my time... and besides I want you to fight the best combatant I have ever had under my command.” He then raised his hand and a roar exploded from the crowd as they cheered on the new development. The large door ground open to reveal a gigantic silhouette with glowing red eyes. As its considerable bulk took a step forward into the light, Megatron identified it. “Grimlock.” He said in an awed voice.
The large bot bore the purple Decepticon badge on his chest and glared contemptuously at the dragon as he ignited his blazing orange energo-sword. At this G1 Megatron raised both hands and yelled “BEGIN!” before dropping them again. Grimlock started charging forward with a loud roar and dragon Megatron steeled himself and letting out a roar of his own he leapt towards his test.
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Blackarachnia screamed. Her shrill voice echoed about the small room. She had come here every night since meeting with Agony. Each time, she would climb into the chair, be restrained and the torture would begin.
Agony had clearly been through some rough times and had opted for some undercover work for the Maximals in an attempt to strike back at those who had pained her. She explained that in order to infiltrate this secretive underworld, one must deal with pain. Pain is used as a test of membership, a test of loyalty and most important of all a test of trust. If she could get them to trust her, then that would be half the battle won. Agony had kept any information about the group she was preparing to meet and Blackarachnia preferred it that way for the moment. This way it was easier to keep her loving Bowser out of the loop without directly lying to him.
She felt sick to her core keeping anything from him and could see the concern in his puppy-dog eyes during the brief times that they had been together since she started this mission. It was also hard to see her poor Silver struggling against the corporate machine that Cybertron had become over the years. Anyone would be blessed to have her man working for them, but here he was just another number, another nobody. Her mind often wandered into this unstable ground and she forced it down with one positive thought. The one thing that kept her on top of it all. She was doing it for him. For the both of them. While these clandestine groups plotted and planned their own dark designs, no one was safe. She would tear out this dark anomaly in Cybertron’s culture and she would return to her beloved and they would be truly happy once again.
“Good.” Noted Agony, who had been reading over the data of tonight’s “test”. “You have definitely become tougher, not that you needed much help with that Transmetal 2 body of yours.”
The restraints slipped back into the various sections of the chair releasing Blackarachnia and she peeled herself out of the chair. “So I’m ready?” she asked.
“A few more nights of this then I will arrange a meeting.” Responded Agony. “The Coven will decide if you are truly ready.”
“The Coven? I thought you were after the Tripredacus Council.” Stated Blackarachnia.
“This world is a multi-limbed beast. To strike at its heart, you first need to get past the arms.” Explained Agony.
“And how do you know that this “Coven” is really a part of it all?”
“I’ve been in this game alot longer than you have.” Agony responded almost angrily. She then quickly snapped back to being impassive before adding. “You just have to trust me. I can’t tell you too much until you get past the next stage.”
Blackarachnia stared at Agony for a long moment before shrugging. “Fine. The sooner we get this done the better.”
“Exactly.” Agreed Agony. “Now go. You’ll need your rest for the last few tests.”
“Same time, same channel.” Blackarachnia responded. She had tried to make it a witty retort, however her mind was so occupied with thoughts of her beloved Silver that it merely sounded tired. As she made her way out to the dark, abandoned Cybertronian streets, she thought of her and Silverbolt in each other’s embrace, far away from all of this and she reached up to wipe away a small drop of fluid from the base of her optic. All for him. Always for him.
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Rhinox sat beside Rattrap at the bar in the Cosmic Rust energo-cafe. Rattrap had ordered their drinks and Rhinox was surprised when his own multi-coloured concoction arrived in a large mug with what appeared to be foliage he felt was more at home in the forests of earth back in the Beast Wars. It was apparently called a Longshot Island Iced Trinium. Well it was a funny looking drink but it tasted great. What harm could it do?
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Cheetor groaned as his optics flickered to life. Exiting from emergency stasis lock hibernation was never an enjoyable event. Stiff servos fought against pooled fluid, circuits booted up cold and his entire exo-structure ached as though he had been stepped on by a mountain. His vision began to refocus and he could make out a silhouette looking down on him.
“Hey boss.” It said in a familiar voice.
“B... Bomber?” Cheetor strained through restabilising vocal circuitry.
“Yeah.” Bomber affirmed. “It’s me.”
Cheetor’s vision finally came into focus and he realised that he was no longer within the Spear of Primus. Waves calmly lapped against the sandy expanse of beach with gentle whooshing sounds and the sun shone brightly above making the water glisten and the sand sparkle. Cheetor glanced around him and noted that the rest of the Spear’s crew lay scattered about the beach in stasis lock. The sand showed clear indentations indicating that they had been dragged some distance from the smoking ruin that had formerly been their starship.
After a cough and a shake which finally ensured all his systems were online, Cheetor turned to Bomber and said “Good work” with a smile.
Bomber simply shook his head and replied “That’s the thing, boss-spots, I didn’t do anything.”
A puzzled expression crossed Cheetor’s features and he asked “What?” in a similar tone of voice.
Bomber shrugged and said “I woke up only a few nano-clicks before you. It was pretty clear that no one from the crew had done this because they were all lying there just like you.”
Questions of who and how crossed Cheetor’s mind, but they were interrupted by groans from two of the other prone forms. Bomber scurried over to Hammer and Razor, with Cheetor following suit after finding his footing. Two sets of optics flared to life and Razor slumped forward, clutching his head with his hands. Hammer continued to lay on the soft sand and asked the question for both of them “What the slag happened?”
Cheetor and Bomber then proceeded to explain the situation, however they were interrupted by a voice crying out “BEACH MODE!” As one, the group turned. It was difficult to determine what surprised them the most, the deck chair, the sunglasses, the funny hat or the obvious fact that “Nutso” had not packed any of those items, yet appeared to be enjoying the use of all three. After realising that his jaw was hanging limply open, Cheetor shook his head again and ordered “Nutso” to “Stop foolin around and get over here!” “Nutso” merely shrugged, stood up and by the time everyone had looked back at him, the items had disappeared. All involved thought it best not to ask questions. Thankfully, Glider chose to rise at this point which distracted the group back to the task at hand.
After a short briefing, Cheetor began to formulate a plan. “OK. So we need to figure out where we are and what we have. “’Nutso’, Glider, Razor.” He said, turning to each one “I want you to claw through what’s left of the Spear. Equipment, weapons, supplies. We need everything you can salvage.” The trio nodded at this and set off to the smouldering wreckage. “Hammer, Bomber.” He continued to the remaining two. “Spread out and scout the surrounding area. We’re gonna need a place to call home for a few nights until we can work out a way to the Arc.”
“Already on it.” Assured Bomber. Hammer nodded her agreement then they both transformed to their vehicle modes and raced off to commence the search.
Cheetor smiled at the sight of his team settling in to their jobs and said to himself “It ain’t over till the big fembot sings. We won’t let you down Big-bot.” Had he been more aware of his surroundings, he would have noticed the glow of a pair of optics watching him from the dense foliage nearby.
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“Tankor SMASH!!!” yelled Rhinox as he pounded the next patron with both fists. Rattrap was vainly trying to stop Rhinox and watch his back at the same time. No easy feat. Rip ‘N Tear were busy cutting through the crowd to get to the centre of the disturbance and the entire bar was embroiled in the chaos Rhinox had created. TWO DRINKS!! That was all it had taken for him to forget who he was and take on this primitive persona of Tankor. He had seen Rhinox fight before but this was definitely not him. It was random and strong, however it was very sloppy and he was stumbling about in his drunken stupor. It was only his sheer bulk that kept him out of real trouble... so far.
It had started out as a quiet drink at the bar, a bit of a chat about recent events, however he had miscalculated how much the big guy could actually take and before he knew it things had exploded into this wild brawl. Poor guy had no idea what he was doing, although he would definitely feel it in the morning.
The swirling melee continued around them and it seemed like there was no way out. It would be impossible for Rattrap to carry his friend out of here alone and usually he and Bomber would know when it was too hot to stay and high-tail it out of there. Slag.
A blue bolt tore across the room and struck Rhinox dead centre. The ion cannon did its work and Rhinox collapsed into stasis lock. Well that was one problem solved, but it raised a whole bunch of others. Rattrap dropped down and tried to drag his friend by placing his arms in Rhinox’s armpits however as he feared, the strain was too much on his considerably smaller frame.
Suddenly a drunken reveller leapt from the crowd to attack Rattrap. It was impossible for him to defend himself and he braced for the inevitable impact. After a few moments of nothing, he activated his optics again to see that another Cybertronian had positioned himself between the attacker and Rattrap and had a rock-hard grip around the arm of the assailant. Although no taller than Rattrap, he was an impressive sight. His armour was a mix of orange, black and purple however most of this was concealed by the black cape draped over his shoulders. He then swung his free hand around and punched the attacker in the face, knocking him into stasis lock, and then turned to face Rattrap.
“Who are you?” the Maximal enquired.
“Consider me a friend who is interested in your well-being.” He replied enigmatically. As another patron jumped in to attack he swung his arm back, colliding with the bot’s face, all while he continued to look at Rattrap. “Call me Bazooka.” He added with a grin.
“Alright...” exclaimed a surprised Rattrap. “Thanks. Now can ya give me a hand with big-green here.” He said with a thumb pointing at Rhinox.
“OK.” Responded Bazooka “Can you clear a path?”
“Nothing I do better.” Replied Rattrap with a smile.
“Let’s do it.”
The two bots exchanged positions and Rattrap begun to use passive suppression techniques to create an opening in the mob. Bazooka placed both hands underneath Rhinox’s prone form and let out a roar as his servos whined and struggled. Rattrap was amazed to see the green Maximal rise off the ground as Bazooka slung his over his shoulders. Once he was stable, he gave Rattrap the thumbs-up and they started their slow push to freedom.
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The orange blade came arcing down through the air and collided with the floor where Megatron had been mere moments before. He spun as he sailed through the air and sent a ball of flame at Grimlock. The shot dissipated harmlessly off the Decepticon’s thick armour and Grimlock spun with another swipe of his sword. Megatron raised his dragon arm in an attempt to parry, however the momentum and strength of the blow sent him crashing into the arena wall and he fell hard to the ground spitting up some mech fluid. The blade came sailing down again however Megatron’s wings flapped and shot him into the air, narrowly missing the blow. This time, the blade embedded itself in the ground and Grimlock struggled with the blade to release it. Megatron took this opportunity to land a number of blows on his head, chest and arms. Normally a strike from his new body would send any Cybertronian into stasis lock, however this was not just any Cybertronian and it would take a bit more than brute force to crack this opponent. He gushed out a freezing torrent at Grimlock’s weapon hand, however the ice and the ground holding the trapped weapon shattered and the blade came for another strike. Megatron drove to avoid it once more and then realised how he could affect the leviathan. He waited for the next swing and leapt in so that he was inside Grimlock’s reach and then brought the sharp horns of his dragon arm crashing down to where the Decepticon badge was fixed. The horns sunk in and he twisted to open then gap. Grimlock then swung with his free hand and sent Megatron flying across the room which resulted in a large gaping hole in Grimlock’s chest, where the horns had been locked in. The blow nearly tore Megatron’s arm out of it’s socket, however he clenched his teeth and bore the pain. Grimlock then raised both hands above his head as they clutched the energo-sword and charged forward for the fatal blow. Megatron sat and waited. Seconds passed like hours but Megatron held until the last moment, then shot forward under power of his wings and buried the dragon head in the hole in Grimlock’s chest. He then let out a bestial growl and ignited the fire breath. The inferno tore through the internal workings of the large bot and fire exploded from all joints and vents until the energon cells were hit and the resulting wave sent Megatron back into the wall. Both he and the now empty shell collapsed at the same time with a resounding thud and Megatron panted as his system tried to cool itself down. The silence which followed was deafening, but after a few moments it was replaced by a single, rhythmic sound. Clapping. Megatron looked up to see that the surroundings had returned to the abandoned, gloomy state it had been previously and G1 Megatron was walking towards him with a large smile on his face and his hands slapping to produced the accolade. “Excellent.... Excellent.” He commended. “However it would be interesting to see how you would have fared against the REAL Grimlock.” He added as he indicated the now destroyed training droid lying prone on the ground. “You can program as many mannerisms into these combat units however they never truly have the... imagination of a spark fuelled bot.”
The dragon managed to rise to his feet during the speech and now faced the Decepticon. “So what now?” he enquired.
“Well...” mused G1 Megatron. “Welcome to your new headquarters.”
“Yesss..” said Megatron with an evil grin “This will do quite nicely.”
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Rhinox groaned as he tried to peel himself out of the bed and then collapsed back down when the world started spinning. He looked over and he could see all sorts of fluids staining the floor and would have risen due to fact that he felt so dirty, had the hangover not been so crippling.
“Heh heh. You’re one mean drunk big green.” Said Rattrap who had been standing in the doorway.
“Wha... wha...” started Rhinox.
“Well I got ya back here after you went a little crazy last night.” Explained Rattrap.
Rhinox then realised he was in his living quarters and that he had gone to a bar with Rattrap the previous night. “I’m never drinking again.” Groaned Rhinox.
“Yeah I’ve heard that one before.” Mused Rattrap. “You just take it easy and we’ll have ya walking around in no time.”
He was answered by a groan as Rhinox sunk back into the bed. Rattrap then proceeded back into the media room and began to flick through the stations to see what was on, however his mind was on more pressing matters, such as the Megatron situation and more intriguingly who this Bazooka character was. He had carried Rhinox all the way back here, but then vanished without a trace before Rattrap could enquire further. It didn’t feel right, but at least the guy was watching his back. He just hoped that there wasn’t a big red target symbol painted on there.
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“Good work bots.” Said Cheetor to his team.
Razor, Glider and “Nutso” had returned from the wreckage of the ship with plenty of supplies to get them settled in. Together they had managed to construct a temporary HQ which contained a CR chamber dragged from the med-quarters and limited comm.-array both patched to a large battery supply by “Nutso”. Crates of weaponry lay scattered about the area as Razor continued to sift through the equipment. No one wanted a weapon to fail on them in an emergency and Razor was the best bot to check them. Glider had headed out to check on the two scouts after they had set up the main components of the HQ and “Nutso” had vanished back into the belly of the wreckage.
“Hey there big-cat!” exclaimed Bomber as he tore through the foliage and transformed into robot mode, Glider and Hammer following closely behind. “We got some good news.”
“Sweet.” Responded Cheetor. “Good news is always good in times like this.”
“Well we’re in luck because we didn’t end up too far from the Ark.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Affirmed Hammer. “Turns out we landed along the coastline which was closest to the volcano so we don’t have to go trekking around the world.”
“Pretty nice huh?” added Bomber. “I think with all this stuff, it will take no longer than 6 solar days to get there.”
“Great work guys.” Said Cheetor. “We’re here and we’re getting it done. We’ve gone through the worst of it and now its time to show the universe we can look after it.”
The group cheered in response to the speech and they settled in for a night of rest before they abandoned their beach post and started the trek to the Ark and a new destiny for all of them.
iv got the ark too....ooooo telepathy mind manipulation-o-matic! 
