“Hello Canterlot, and good afternoon to you all once again!” A feminine voice (With a somewhat African-American accent attached to it) bellowed out of the radio of Fowler’s sedan. “This is your favorite DJ, Xiraia, coming at you with the latest weird news right from my little station here in downtown Canterlot. Now, you all believe in aliens, spooks, and government cover-ups right? Of course you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be listening to yours truly!”
Fowler sighed to himself, now a few months back he wouldn’t have paid even the slightest bit of attention to this woman and her conspiratal ramblings. But that was of course before his bosses assigned him to be the babysitter for a bunch of giant robots from another planet.
“Now, strange lights coming from the hills outside Canterlot? Our very own Brown Mountain Lights, or a secret government base? You decide. Now, I recently got a very interesting tip-off from one of my listeners. Actually, have I told you I love you all? Seriously, you guys and gals are keeping my world going around, not to mention this radio show on the air!”
That statement was followed by a short laugh before Xiraia continued. “Anyways, tip-offs. Oddly enough, and take this statement as you will listeners, but I recently got this comment from a member of our very own Canterlot High -Who would like to keep her name off the record in fear of government spooks coming to call- about seeing this massive metallic bird late last night. Sorta resembled a crow of all things, a dark midnight blue in color. Now, I don’t know about you, but that screams either Prism surveillance device or giant alien spacecraft. You decide for yourselves, dear boys and girls. Now, a commercial break and a word from our sponsors, who just work for the corporate big-wigs which control every aspect of our lives.”
A short snippet of the X-Files theme played before a little ditty about some sort of toothpaste begun. At that, Fowler switched off the radio and sighed. “I swear, by Uncle Sam’s red, white and blue boxers, that woman’s going to make herself a target for ‘Cons one of these days if she isn’t careful and learns when to keep her mouth shut. Certainly not making it easier for me, Chrysalis or Spitfire to keep the Autobots under wraps either.”
Sunny looked at her father and shook her head, knowing exactly what he was thinking. “You’re wondering if you should go over to Xiraia’s and ask her to keep quiet, or at least watch herself, aren’t you? You do realize you’d only give her vindication for her partially insane ramblings if you did that right?” she asked him.
“Still, she’s painting a bad name for the Autobots!” Fowler groaned. “How am I supposed to let that slide? Especially since your friends are now working for the ‘Bots themselves?”
“You mean painting a bad name for the US Government, right?” Sunny deadpanned. “Because I didn’t hear anything in that broadcast that even mentioned the Autobots last I checked,”
“Paparazzi and reporters, I’ve always hated them,” He muttered to himself as he turned a corner past the local KO Burger. “All they do is twist the news to make juicy stories that everyone will read or listen to just because it’s ‘big’ or ‘a shocker’. Not even the worst sociopaths on the planet are worse than these stuck-up double-talkers.”
“You know, I think that’s one of the few things you and Mom ever agreed on…” Sunny laughed bitterly, a trace of sadness in her tone. “Mind you, I really don’t think a radio host counts as a reporter, or at least a radio host for a show themed around conspiracies, the paranormal and aliens.”
“It’s a distinction without a difference. She’s still lying to the masses and putting them on her side, refusing to get the true story from the real people involved in the chaos.” Fowler grumbled. “Remind me to give her a piece of my mind the next time I see her, alright?”
“Like I said, you’d just be vindicating her paranoid ramblings.” Sunny reminded him.
“Yeah, you’re right. But it still pisses me off,” he said, rubbing his temples as they pulled up to Fowler’s home and onto the driveway. “Can’t say I’m too pleased with you and the rest of your friends getting involved in this little ‘Con Hunt that the Autobots are conducting.”
“Aw, c’mon, Fowler. It’s gonna be awesome!”
Both Fowler and Sunny turned their heads to see Lemon walking up to them both. Her hands were behind her head and her headphones were connected by Bluetooth to the phone in her pocket, which was playing her favorite songs. Sunny was able to catch a snippet of what was currently playing when Lemon took off her headphones to speak.
“Sabaibaru You got move
Gendai wa sanagara sengoku
Dare ga kachinukeru
Kagi wa hirake rarete shimatta
(Don't Say No JUST LIVE MORE)
“Doko ni aru?
Do tsukau?
Kindan no kajitsu
“`Ima' to iu kaze wa nani o tsutaeru tame
(Omae no moto ni fuku tsuyoku tsuyoku Blowin' up)
Ashita ga yume ga mada mienakute mo
(Soko genkai seiippai ikite iru to ierunara)”
Sunny chuckled to herself, from what little Japanese she did understand that song suited her friend perfectly.
“No offense Lemon, but I highly doubt you’re helping my case…” she deadpanned. “How’d you even find us anyways?”
“Uh, the address book?” Lemon asked, with a small smirk gracing her face. Sunny groaned, out of all her of friends that had to come to talk some sense into Fowler, why’d it have to be Lemon? Couldn’t it have been Sugarcoat or Twilight? “Look, Fowler, I know you’re super-stingy about the safety of your daughter, but she’s in good hands. Me, Indy, Sour, Sugar, and the Bots are gonna be fine.”
“Lemon, you’re hardly at the sort of age where you’re able to make the best judgements,” Fowler remarked. He wasn’t trying to come off as condescending, but concerned. He really didn’t want to see teenagers caught up in an intergalactic police chase between metal titans capable of crushing a human with one step.
“Well, at least I’m not Sugarcoat. That girl is really stuffy,” Lemon folded her arms. “Would you rather have her here and say you’re not helping Sunny grow stronger because you’re being overprotective? Because she’d say that. Sugarcoat has, like, no filter at all. Nada, zip, zilch.”
“Lemon…” Sunny gritted her teeth.
“Lemon, think about a scenario for a second. What if the Decepticons found out where my daughter lived—and you know they can as they found out where you lived—and kidnapped her? She wouldn’t last long under their care. They could care less about us humans!” Fowler argued.
“I know. That’s why we’re not only hunting Cons, but we’re gonna crush ‘em into scrap. That way, you, the Bots, and everyone else doesn’t need to worry ‘bout ‘em anymore,” How Lemon was still smiling was a question the others may never have an answer to. “Plus, Perceptor’s making us super-awesome battle gear that’ll keep us safe from Cons and their tech. Nothing to worry about.”
“I’m curious,” Sunny asked. “How is Perceptor finding the time to do that, worry about Road Rage’s virus, and anything else he’s probably got under his belt? One scientist can only do so much after all.”
“Perceptor doesn’t even sleep. Unlike us, he works twenty-four seven, even when other bots are off in robo-dreamland,” Lemon nodded. “It’s like he doesn’t even have a re-energizing matrix like the others do.”
“Forgive me for still being concerned, but I really don’t think this is the best idea. I’d think a scientist would know better than to involve kids in this kind of thing!” Fowler remarked as he and his daughter stepped out of the car.
“Technically, children are aged from zero to twelve years old. We are all aged seventeen to nineteen, thereby making us teenagers and not kids.”
Sugarcoat now approached the girls, looking as unamused and to-the-point as ever. Nearby, Swordbreaker in vehicle mode rested parked at the edge of the curb, engine idling. With her triple ponytail hairstyle swaying gently in the wind, she stepped up to Fowler and crossed her arms.
“Fowler, you have had a traumatic experience with Sunny before. I can tell from your tone of voice.” Sugarcoat raised a brow at him. “And because of that experience, you have developed an overprotective personality. It’s not healthy for you or for her. You should stop being overprotective and let Sunny fend for herself.”
Fowler sighed. “I nearly had my daughter die at the hands of the Decepticons once, and I don’t want to have it happen a second time. You can understand that right?” he asked her.
“All these bad emotions are nothing more than a waste of time. Regret, anxiety, doubt, it’s nothing more than weakness. A weakness you choose to exploit upon yourself to prove you can’t get any better.” Sugarcoat didn’t back down, and handed down a swift, and sharp truth. “I removed all these emotions from my life, and I am much happier for it, even though I choose not to show it most of the time,” she continued. “And I encourage everyone else at Crystal Prep to do so as well, as negative emotions mean bad grades and a loss in overall morale, thereby lowering the quality of Crystal Prep students and painting a bad image for them and for their education as well.”
Fowler tried to form a rebuttal to that remark, but found none. Finally, he sighed. “Alright, she’s allowed to stay with the Autobots, but should I find out something’s happened to her—”
“Which it won’t.” Sugarcoat interjected with a raised finger.
“If I may continue?” Fowler asked. “Should I find something’s happened to her, I will not hesitate to come and save her myself. I can still pilot a fighter jet and scramble a squadron, you know.”
“If you’re that worried about her, then why don’t you join our cause and fight alongside her?” Sugarcoat cocked a brow. “Then, you wouldn’t have to worry about her dying away from your side. You can be with her and keep her safe no matter what.”
“Sadly,” Fowler commented, gesturing to his gut. “I really don’t think I’d fit in one of those suits. I’m more suited to working behind a desk, and keeping the Autobots under wraps.”
“They’re polymorphic fibers. One size fits all.” Sugarcoat showed hers off under her skirt. “A special gift from Perceptor. And they raise your metabolism and increase your pain threshold.”
Fowler hummed to himself. “It’s worth a thought. But as for right now, I have to work from behind the scenes. I have a general to report to and keep him reassured that the Autobots are no threat to mankind. Let me tell you, Bryce is as stubborn as they come.”
“Suit yourself,” She turned her back. “Sunny, you and Lemon should get back to Autobot HQ soon and suit up. Indigo and Sour are already there, and training hard with their blasters. Twilight and Special Agent Chrysalis (Sugarcoat wasn’t going to use Chrysalis’s self-given moniker and feed her ego any more than needed) are helping Prowl research who we know’s on Earth with Onslaught’s crew, and who is suspected of following him.” Sugarcoat said in response.
“Alright. I’ll just finish up with dad, then I’ll be right there. Have a Groundbridge spawn at my location.” Sunny nodded. “It’s much faster than being driven back by the Bots.”
“As you wish.” Sugarcoat replied as she waved Sunny and Fowler goodbye and gestured for Lemon to follow her back to the still waiting Swordbreaker. Soon as they were both inside, the bounty hunter for hire drove off into a groundbridge of his own. “I’ll give you a moment to say goodbye to him.”
“Listen, dad…” Sunny sighed, after a long silence. “I know you’re not happy about this, but there’s not much you can do to stop me now. As soon as Twilight found Sunder, and Steeljaw attacked us, I was dragged into this, like it or not.”
“I know. And I know I can’t stop you.” Fowler put a hand on her shoulder. “Just promise me that you’ll come back safe and sound, alright?”
“Hey, I got you looking out for me, so I know I’ll be fine, right?” Sunny asked.
Fowler laughed, and ruffled his daughter’s hair. “That’s my girl. I… I just wish I didn’t have to see you grow up this fast, that’s all. I wanted you to spend a few more years like a normal teenager, just goofing off with your friends. Or, whatever counts as goofing off for you,” he laughed again, this time in a softer manner. “I just didn’t want you to grow up like me or your mother, and become all completely serious, that’s all. God knows it takes a special kind of man or woman to stand that.” he joked.
“Dad. I’m still a teenage girl deep down,” Sunny smiled. “Once this is over, I’ll still have plenty of time to goof off and hang out with my friends. Especially with Indy, Lemon, and their friends.”
Fowler smiled and kissed his daughter’s forehead as the distinct glowing green-blue form of a groundbridge opened up and he watched as she stepped into it. What neither of them -nor Swordbreaker for that matter- saw was a midnight blue mechanical jaguar perched atop a rooftop eyeing them through her golden optics, before she leaped away.
Autobase:
Back at the Autobot Base, Twilight found herself approaching Perceptor, who—Like Sugarcoat had said—was hard at work looking over the files on the list of Decepticons (And from what they now knew, Predacons) following Onslaught’s command.
Currently, while the scientist murmured something to himself under his breath, the image of Knock Out was displayed on-screen, along with a list of crimes he’d allegedly committed.
“Interesting, very interesting indeed…” Perceptor murmured to himself as he looked over Knock Out’s file. As he did so, he used a finger to rub his chin in thought.
“What’s so interesting?” Twilight asked, as she walked up, looking up towards Perceptor. She wore a magenta skin-tight suit with chrome leading from her chest to her arms, complete with glove and foot parts. Her head was the only thing that wasn’t covered in super-cloth, but her neck was still wrapped in it. Some small epaulettes stuck out of her shoulders, but they were more for design than anything.
“Nothing, it’s just…” Perceptor began before he faltered. He soon regained his composure, looking down at Twilight. “The most terrifying words in the English language are: I'm from the government and I'm here to help.”
“Ronald Reagan,” Twilight remembered, and Perceptor nodded.
“Correct, I’ve been doing some reading. Here’s another quote for you. “We must reject the idea that every time a law's broken, society is guilty rather than the lawbreaker. It is time to restore the American precept that each individual is accountable for his actions.” Perceptor commented.
“Is there a point to all this?” Twilight asked, starting to grow annoyed, as she took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Yes, been doing some reading that leads me to believe that Knock Out, along with several other members of the Darksyde aren’t as guilty as we originally believed them to be,” Perceptor replied. If Twilight was as smart as she was supposed to be, she’d figure out what the scientist was implying with the first Reagan quote.
“The Darksyde?” Twilight questioned, and if a robot could flush she imagined Perceptor would have.
“Right, sorry. The ship that Onslaught stole. Anyways, Knock Out, along with several other criminals onboard that ship, I’ve uncovered some evidence that makes me believe that they were framed for their crimes, or simply coerced into joining up with Onslaught.”
“By coerced, I assume you mean forced or blackmailed right?” Twilight questioned.
“Precisely,” Perceptor nodded. “I’m not bringing this up to Prowl yet, as I’m not entirely certain yet, but as soon as I uncover concrete evidence that they were framed for their crimes I will do so.”
A groundbridge materialized before them both, with Sunny Flare, Lemon Zest, Sugarcoat, and Swordbreaker appearing from the other side before it vanished. Swordbreaker, as soon as his passengers climbed out, transformed to robot mode.
“Lemon, Sunny, Sugar. You’re back!” Twilight exclaimed happily as she approached the three of them. “Was it hard to deal with Fowler?”
“Not once I arrived,” Sugarcoat shook her head. “Let’s just say that he and Sunny needed some convincing for him to even consider letting her go.”
“Well, mostly Fowler,” Lemon commented, putting her two cents in. “Cool suit, Twi,” she remarked, briefly wondering how Indigo would look in one like it. She flushed briefly, before clearing her head of the image.
“Do you like it? Perceptor himself colored it.” Twilight blushed slightly. “And I see you’re wearing yours too, Sugarcoat.”
Sugarcoat quickly threw off her other clothes, revealing her version of the suit. Minus the epaulettes, it was mostly the same, only with a little breastplate on the front. “I have to be prepared for any situation, so this suit never comes off.”
“Geez, must chafe a little…” Lemon remarked. “Hardly fashionable, makes one wonder what that fashionista friend of Twilight’s would have to say if she ever saw you in it,” she joked.
“If Rarity were here, she would have made them a lot more appealing, I know.” Twilight hung her head. “But if she got caught up in this fight too, it would be much too risky. There’s already too many of my friends in this fight…” she trailed off, thinking of Trixie. “And besides, what Rarity doesn’t know about fashion disasters won’t hurt her, right?” Twilight asked.
“Fair enough,” Lemon admitted. “So, when do I get fitted for my new duds?”
“Follow me. I’ll get you two ready,” said Twilight, turning to one of the doors in the Autobase.
“Not just yet,” Sugarcoat asked, as she looked towards Sunder, who was preening his wings. “I have to ask, how does a Predacon end up on a Decepticon fugitive hunt?”
“Now, that’s a story in itself,” Perceptor commented. “I can tell you what I know, and this is only what Prowl told me.”
“Why don’t we walk and talk?” Sunny asked. “It’d save us time, and the suits could be a few rooms away. And, I kinda wanna know too. How does a beast hunt down its’ fellow beasts?”
“Okay then…” Perceptor began. “Now, this was a little over a year ago, right when our current Prime, Nova Prime had ordered us to begin our hunt and capture of these rogue Cons.”
The area in Cybertron known as the Sea of Rust, stretching from Tyrest to Polyhex all the way to the Tagan Heights and Altihex had been almost completely wiped from the world. Ruins of a once mighty civilization now laid half-submerged in a sea of sand and ruins. Massive machine-like structures laid in tatters, with winds howling violently in the distance. Not a single part of the city looked alive, and it seemed like it never would again. Truly, this was a symbol of the end. The end of an era for this corner of the planet.
Amidst the sand, on the outskirts of the barren ghost town, were three Autobots. Prowl, -in the form of a hovercar- who looked like he would rather be somewhere else right there and then. Accompanying him was a dark green and black toned Autobot in the form of an ATV, alongside a Cybertronian truck colored in pure white with gold rims.
“Really don’t get it, how can the Predacons even scrounge up a living out here?” Crosshairs, the ATV asked, as he transformed to robot mode, somehow gaining a duster in the process. Prowl was soon to follow. “Personally, I say we should just clear on out of here as soon as possible, and be done with the place.”
Parts shifted and whirred as Nova transformed to robot mode. Now, a tall and powerful Autobot stood before them. Plated in a shimmering coat of white and gold, with his windshield acting as his upper chest and a headrest at the back of his head, he looked like the definition of intimidation. That was further validated when he pulled out a massive, cyan axe which glowed brightly, like a neon weapon splitting the darkness around them. He slammed the tip of said axe into the ground to silence Crosshairs. “Predacons are renowned for their tracking skills, and so if this retrieval mission is to go as planned, it would be a prudent move for Prowl and his crew to have at least one on their side.”
“Ugh, you just wanna die for the guy. That's leadership. Or brainwashing, or something." Crosshairs grumbled to himself in a tone of disgust.
“No, that’s because he’s a Prime.” Prowl corrected his compatriot. He sighed, there was a reason Crosshairs had flunked out of the Elite Guard.
“...And I’m just the back-up in case things go south, right?” Crosshairs asked, pulling out his twin pistols, and training them to the many crevices around them. A pair of infrared goggles moved down to cover his optics. “Wonderful. Do you realize who we’re dealing with right? Predaking doesn’t take kindly to visitors.”
“You’re remarkably intelligent, for an Autobot,” an English accented voice came from somewhere in the ruins, sounding smug and superior. It was as if the owner of the voice thought himself above the other Cybertronians. This was only validated by the fact that he did not bother naming Crosshairs. “But don't let your imagination run away with you.”
“So… You finally arrive at last, Nova Prime.” Predaking stomped forward from out of the shadows, and tossed a cloak off revealing his massive form. “I was wondering when a Prime would come to call. Surely you realize that your success has made you some bitter enemies?” he asked.
Predaking arched his neck up as his body began to transform. First, he arched himself down onto all fours, as his body opened up limb by limb, with more and more pieces popping out of it. His body grew in size and contorted, as two massive slender, rectangular parts extended out of his back. Those parts of him curled out, and elongated, forming a massive pair of red wings that shone brightly in the fading sun of the Rust Sea. His claws stretched out as well, becoming sharper as the palms extended into massive talons.
Next, a large tail extended out of his coccyx, which became longer and longer, until a massive knife-like part stopped at the end. Finally, his head, which now stood on a massive, snake-like neck began to change, with most of his face becoming obscured by shards of metal. All that was left of it was his eyes, metal nose, and mouth. The rest was completely covered out, as two horns poked out of the top.
Predaking let out a ferocious earth-shaking roar and breathed orange purple flame out of his mouth before crawling up to Nova Prime. “Let’s see just how weak the Prime Lineage has grown,” He spoke in a double-toned, almost demonic voice, yet still somehow kept up that refined English accent. “I stood up to Optimus Prime, and he defeated me in combat, and I respect his abilities. But somehow I doubt you have the same caliber to resist me,”
“At ease Predaking,” Nova Prime replied, bowing in a sign of respect. Prowl quickly got the message and motioned for Crosshairs to do the same. “We did not come here to fight. We came only for a simple request.”
“Oh?” Predaking asked, leaning forwards. All around him, several other members of his species crawled out of crevices, including a yellow and dark blue griffon (Darksteel), an orange and gold condor (Sunder) and a black Fenris wolf-like creature with a spined backside amongst others.
“Exactly, I bear you or your species no ill intent. None of us do,” Nova replied. “All we want is to talk.”
“Unfortunately, for me to even consider talking, you will have to best me in a trial by combat, that is always been my creed,” Predaking replied, striking a pillar with his talons, and leaving deep gauge marks. Nova Prime would never admit it, but he was afraid. Predaking was a warrior, born in fire and in steel, and he possessed a warrior’s pride. “The Predacon creed.”
Nova Prime rose, and both Prowl and Crosshairs shot him looks of fear wondering if their current leader was suicidal. This worry was only increased by the moment when Nova dropped his axe to the ground, it hitting the metal earth beneath it with a powerful clang.
“But it is not the Autobot creed.” Nova replied. “You are more than just a simple beast.”
Predaking circled the three Autobots like a bear, fangs bared. “You have nice manners for a thief... And a LIAR!” he roared. “Funny how you say that, and yet the Cybertronian government drove us back here to these barren wastes, -A sorry caricature of a home- out of pure fear. Here, it’s dog eat dog, and we’re forced to survive on scraps. So, I ask you, why should I talk to you, a member of that very same government?” he asked, his throat glowing orange as he charged up another blast of pure flame. “Do not take me for a fool. I know of that axe, it once belonged to my predecessor, Scourge, until Megatron looted it from his rusting corpse and left the Scraplets to fest on whatever was left.”
“Yes, I know of my weapon’s… history. And now I return it to you, it’s rightful owner.” Nova replied, kicking the axe towards the massive dragon who was still circling him and presumably contemplating on how best to rend him to scrap metal. Predaking actually looked surprised by this gesture, and actually transformed back into robot mode picking up the axe as he did so.
“You are a rare breed of Cybertronian, Nova Prime. Perhaps the lineage of the Primes hasn’t diluted as much as I thought it had. Now, we may speak. What is your… request?” he asked.
“I simply ask for a small selection of your Predacons, two or three at most. Your species, and their tracking abilities are well-known are they not?” Nova asked.
“Yes, we quite pride ourselves on them,” Predaking replied. “Your point?”
“Several Decepticons have gone rogue, and Prowl here has been assigned to track them down under a small task force.”
“I see…” Predaking mused, rubbing his chin in thought. “Yes, I suppose I could lend you two of my subordinates. Feral Steel, Sunder, come forth!” he barked, and the wolf and condor Predacons came to his side. Nodding in understanding, they soon stood beside Prowl. What happened next, truly surprised everyone -Predacon and Autobot alike- when Predaking handed Nova Prime back his axe.
“But this weapon is rightfully yours…” Prowl spoke in surprise.
“No, it is no longer,” Predaking told him. “It belongs to the Prime now, he’s proven himself worthy of it. Now leave me,” he requested. “I have a great many things to think about…”
As the three Autobots transformed to vehicle mode, Nova Prime spoke once more.
“Perhaps, one day, a true alliance can be formed.” he mused.
“Perhaps.” Predaking commented.