//------------------------------// // Part 23: The Devils in the Darkness // Story: Equestria Girls: Transformation // by The Bricklayer //------------------------------// Sri Lanka: Sri Lanka, perhaps best known as an island-nation to the south of India, is known to some as ‘Teardrop of the Indian Ocean’. Once part of a truly massive landmass known as Gondwana that connected it to nations now known as India, Antarctica, Australia and Madagascar, the country is able to boast over 2,500 years of unrecorded history. But it was this very simple fact, that the country boasts an unrecorded past, makes it shrouded in myth and mystery. It’s supposedly witnessed dagger-clawed inhabitants, jaw-dropping monuments and monoliths constructed by aliens and malevolent gods who roamed amongst mere mortal men. Combine all of this and that made travelling to Sri Lanka just that much more exciting. And depending on the time of year and the weather, very, very unpleasant. As Steeljaw and Filch were just starting to find out. “For the record, I just want to say, I’m completely and utterly against this,” Filch stated, as she in her natural beast mode flapped high above Steeljaw, who was traveling along a probably long disused dirt road that was made no better by the pounding pouring rain that turned the dirt into mud. “I mean, ugh… You know how long it’s going to take to get this out of my servos? Think I can feel my joints rusting already!” “You’ll manage, and as a medic, I don’t think your joints will rust from a simple rain shower,” Steeljaw remarked, windshield wipers working furiously against the torrent and in no mood for Filch’s bitching for the moment. “You’ve weathered worse, you grew up in the Sea of Rust for Primus’s sake did you not?” “Just saying, been all over the world with you by now it seems like, traveled half the galaxy and some nice weather should be owed to us by now at this point don’t you think?” Filch continued, still ranting. “By Onyx’s spark, I’m already getting flashbacks of every sort to Mexico! You absolutely certain we can trust this friend of Thunder Clash’s? I mean, Predacons by nature -And I should know- aren’t naturally good-tempered and liable to welcome strangers into their dens with open arms!” “Well, I’ll just have to use my charismatic charm if all else fails,” Steeljaw remarked. Filch could barely hold back rolling her eyes. “Yeah, like that’s always worked so well before,” the Corvicon muttered, shaking her head in mid-flight. Why she liked this idiot was beyond her at times. “You worry too much, if you ask me,” Steeljaw said, rolling his own optics. “If we say Thunder Clash vouched for us, then chances are Airazor won’t want to render us to ribbons with her talons,” “Or she won’t believe us and then she’ll try and make us her dinner. Did I ever tell you Predacons are all carnivorous? Especially the larger breeds?” Filch remarked nervously. “Actually, on that subject did Thunder Clash tell us what we should be looking for or are we going to be wandering around in the jungles till the slagging Pit freezes over?” “...Well, no, not exactly,” Steeljaw admitted with a touch of embarrassment. “But from local descriptions, and the name I’d presume some large bird.” “No shit, Sherlock,” Filch remarked. “Some large bird. Oh yes, that’s very helpful.” she drawled. “Hold up,” Steeljaw said, pulling to a halt as he saw something dash between the undergrowth. He could vaguely make out a shape, with lightning flashing long enough for a pure white feline head to be revealed “You see that? Something moving out there, in the darkness.” Filch perched herself atop a tree branch, optics narrowing as she trained her vision to where Steeljaw was looking. “No heat sigs, or sparks detected. Maybe your imagination’s playing tricks on you.” “Maybe…” Steeljaw commented, though he sounded if he didn’t really believe that from his tone. “Or maybe Airazor’s not the only Predacon out here. Spark masking, it’s a favorite trick of Predacons. And I swore I saw something. Swear by my spark.” “And I believe you, but it could just be a tiger or some other form of big cat though,” “An albino tiger?” Steeljaw asked, sounding skeptical. “It happens. Rare, but it happens,” Filch remarked. “Okay, so aside from this Devil Bird what should we be on the lookout for, myth-wise?” “Well, Hinduism and India, in general, has a large number of myths, like the Byangoma, a purely blind bird that supposedly tells your fortune and with a few drops of blood from a donor, their sight can be activated,” Steeljaw remarked. “Then there’s the Narasimha, an avatar of the Hindu god Vishnu, a creature who is supposed to incarnate in the form of a half lion, half man and uses this form to destroy evil, and end religious persecution and calamity on Earth, thereby restoring Dharma, whatever the hell that is,” he muttered, and Filch gave him a look seemingly judging if he was crazy or not. “Hey, I don’t make this stuff up, blame the humans!” he shouted in return. “...Considering the Aztec and Mayan myths,” Filch murmured to herself. “That load of slag sounds no less crazier than half of the stuff there. Tamer even, really if you want my opinion. But chances are, considering our track record we might just run into the real-world embodiments and inspirations for those myths,” she remarked, almost in a challenging tone seemingly daring the Narasimha to jump out of the bushes and claw her to shreds. After a few moments of nothing happening, she gave out a shrug with her wings and took back to the skies with Steeljaw following after her kicking up mud in his wake. What either of them failed to notice was a pair of yellow felid eyes glaring at them, narrowing slightly with sharp claws glimmering in the moonlight before their owner vanished back into the darkness from whence he’d came. He’d reveal himself in time. For now, he’d let these two just think him a trick of the light. After all, he was a patient sort. Meanwhile, Steeljaw and Filch continued deeper into the jungle. “Course, interesting thing here,” Steeljaw remarked, trying to put his mind at ease by continuing his lecture on Sri Lanka, India, and their myths. “Hinduism isn’t the main religion here. No, that title belongs to Theravada Buddhism. Here, that’s the big thing, not Hinduism. In fact, Sri Lanka, has 70% of the country's population as followers of this belief. Not to say there isn’t any, 12% of the populace is-” he began to ramble on before Filch stopped him. “I always wondered what you do in your spare time,” Filch remarked with a flat look. “Now I know.” “You try staying cooped up in a crashed starship with nothing else to do besides track this thing down, track that guy down. You get unbelievably bored,” Steeljaw replied. “So it was hitting the books for me as the humans say to try and relieve some of that boredom. Interestingly, and I think we both should take notice of this, the Burmese version of Buddhism has creatures called Belu or in Hindu terms the Rakshasa which basically amount to humanoid beings capable of shapeshifting and both could be good or evil. Sound familiar?” Steeljaw remarked and it wasn’t that hard to imagine that if he was in robot mode he’d be smirking. “Ah, there’s our Predacon then. A Rakshasa. It’s not too hard to believe, like the Aztec and Mayan myths of Kukulkan and Quetzalcoatl, that some cultures wound up believing in the same beast,” Filch theorized. “Perhaps Sri Lankan myth and Hinduism both have a Devil Bird of sorts, only it’s what would be called a Rakshasa or in other words a Predacon,” she remarked. “Speaking of Predacons, what do you think happened to Darksteel, started out as this noble warrior fighting for a cause. Think he just lost his way like so many others when the war kicked into high gear?” “Sadly, yes,” Steeljaw replied. “I think that is indeed the case. And in the end…” “It only got him caught up with the rest of us shitheads and wound up getting him killed, pushing our species further to extinction…” Filch trailed off. “Yes, quite,” Steeljaw replied sadly before switching subjects. “Anyways, we’re nearing the human town of Polonnaruwa. There’s a few awfully strange reports coming out of there as of late if you’re willing to dig deep enough on the human internet, some of which amount to strange blood-curdling screeches in the night. I’d say we’ve found our friend’s current nesting place eh?” he questioned before suddenly his comms crackled to life. “Steeljaw! There you are, beginning to get worried about you,” Breakdown’s voice crackled over the comms sounding quite relieved. “Haven’t been able to get in touch with you or Filch for that matter for days, not since that disaster in Mexico!” “Well… Uh, congrats. You found me,” Steeljaw replied, sounding somewhat flattered that Breakdown cared about him and Filch that much to actually try and get in touch with them. “So, I presume I’d been presumed dead?” “For the most part?” Breakdown replied. “Yeah, you pretty much have least amongst those of us who weren’t there for the big Predacon VS Onslaught fight. The rest of the crew, like the Vehicons have been trying to claim your quarters and whatever lies within for themselves. It got so bad I actually had to post two Eradicons outside the door just to keep them from ransacking your humble abode as you call it.” “I’m touched. No, really, I am,” Steeljaw replied. “But really, you needn’t have bothered. I set up a security mechanism that without my handprint to open the door, you’re liable to get shot to pieces by an energon cannon. Salvaged it from what was left of Triggerhappy after Darksteel was through with him as his personal chew toy.” “...You really scare me sometimes, you know that right? Just putting that on record,” Breakdown replied, suppressing a shudder. “Well, least that solves one mystery that’s been nagging at me for a while now. Those Eradicons I placed outside the doors, found a huge bunch of slagged Vehicons laying outside your quarters.” “Yeah, I bet they did,” Steeljaw replied. “Vehicons, dumb by default. At this rate, we won’t have any cannon fodder left really!” “Yeah, I wouldn’t exactly refer to them as cannon fodder. They just got landed with an unthankful job, really,” Breakdown mused. “I mean, I’m surprised they haven’t revolted yet. With their numbers, they could overwhelm us easily. There’s a reason I try and go out of my way to be kinder to them, like sending them extra Energon when we give them particularly unthankful tasks,” “You’re far too nice to be a Decepticon, you know that right?” Steeljaw replied. “Should have gone and hooked up with the Autobots like your sparkmate did really. You’d fit in well there,” “Been thinking about that really. Hell, if Onslaught didn’t have that personal hunter of his in Flamewar, might just have done that long ago,” Breakdown mused. “Look, I’m no fan of this venture, since when did the humans do anything to us? Been thinking, that girl I nearly ran down, the one who’s now an Autobot ally, if I hadn’t briefly succumbed to my old habits she wouldn’t have been caught up in this pile of slag we’re all in. Honestly, I say we should have found another world to escape to.” “Hey, not your fault the Autobots managed to catch up with us, and shoot us down over this planet. Still, makes me wonder why this planet in particular. Onslaught never does anything at random,” Steeljaw remarked. “It’s all part of some master plan to him. We just haven’t seen his endgame yet. All I know is, he picked us in particular, out of all the other unhappy former Decepticons on Cybertron for a reason. Something tells me, someday soon, we’ll find out exactly what that reason is.” “Yeah…” Breakdown trailed off. “Listen, nice catching up to you. I gotta get back to security patrols. One of the Vehicons swore they saw that black wolf Predacon sneaking about in the vents. Best I go check. Oh, and Steeljaw? Whatever you’re doing, stay safe.” With that, the comms clicked off and Breakdown turned to face Swindle and Brawl who were holding him at gunpoint. Behind him, a map of the globe showed Steeljaw’s exact location. “So nice of your friend to finally start talking, eh?” Swindle remarked. “And I’m so glad you’re such a good actor.” he cackled, before he and Brawl left the small communications room. Breakdown only hung his head in shame. “Yeah, a good actor…” he thought to himself. The Autobase: Perceptor was having a rather interesting day, to say the least after Agent Fowler had shown up and informed him that a month or so back, apparently some sort of winged serpent was sighted above Mexico City, along with military vehicles and supercars taking to the streets and that the Mexican government only now just saw it fit to inform him of what was going on. It didn’t take much of a guess to figure out the Decepticons were in Mexico for whatever reason that month and whatever the case, probably wasn’t anything good.  And it just got more interesting with what was happening now. “Road Rage to base, requesting pick-up for two.” the femme chimed in, sounding rather cheery if Perceptor wasn’t mistaken. “I’m sorry, two?” Perceptor’s could help himself, his voice coming out as a stutter of shock. “What about Octane, did you catch him?” “No, he got away, but I just met up with an old friend…” Road Rage replied. “Right then,” Perceptor replied. “I’ll be sending the bridge your way short-” he began and reached for the controls before a small beeping on his computer console interrupted him from his duties. “Something wrong?” Road Rage asked, her voice suddenly turning concerned. “Maybe, maybe not. Old Autobot signal, this frequency hasn’t been used in years!” Perceptor exclaimed in shock. “Best I have a listen, just in case.” “Woah, woah,” Road Rage stated. “How do you know it’s not Decepticons, trying to figure out where our base is?” she asked cautiously before another voice chimed in. Nebulan, in accent. “Well, for one thing, those dingos wouldn’t know how to hack even if killed ‘em,” Outback chimed in making Perceptor’s eyes widen. He knew that voice. He just hadn’t heard it in ages. “Secondly, I can vouch for that frequency given I, along with the rest of the crew of the Van De Graaff use it. That’s one of ours, Smallfoot I reckon given she’s the only other one scouting Earth about now. Hell, it’s only thanks to her we know about you lot!” “Okay, well if that’s the case…” Perceptor murmured, looking into the exact specifics of the transmission. It was indeed Smallfoot, requesting pick-up via Groundbridge to their base. “Perceptor?” Smallfoot asked in shock, optics probably widened. “That you?” “Yeah, it’s me. So, where have you been all this time, and more importantly what are you and Outback doing on Earth?” “Ah, that’s a story in itself really. And it’s not just me and Outback, few others too like Night Ranger and Hoist. Whole ship’s worth. I’ll explain more soon as you guys open the door, as it were.” “Okay, I’ll bridge Outback and Road Rage in first, then you. The last thing we want is two Groundbridges sent to the same place connecting, and forming a bridge to some parallel plane. Basic groundbridge safety, right then and there,” Perceptor replied, and pressed a few buttons on his console, his fingers lighting up the keypad, and soon a swirling blue-green vortex of energy opened with Road Rage and Outback driving through, and then that one closed only to be followed by another with Smallfoot in vehicle mode arriving through that one. Parts shifted, and the entire front half of the truck formed arms with the grill guard winding up on Smallfoot’s chest as the back half of the truck flipped outwards and became legs, with a green visor popping down over Smallfoot’s optics. “Well, so nice to see we’re not alone on this planet anymore, gotta say,” Smallfoot remarked, the minibot femme strutting around the base and seating herself atop a pile of crates. “Road Rage, so nice to see you again! Been decacycles! See you finally got that Elite Guard position you’ve been wanting for ages!” she chirped merrily noting the winged badge on Road Rage’s chest plating. “Where’s Hound? Never seen you without him, really.” A discomforting silence fell over the base, and Outback hung his head. “By Primus…” he whispered. “Never thought someone would do the old slagger in. Thought it was just a rumor, but now...?” “Who did it, who?” Smallfoot asked, her fists clenched. “Who do you think?” Road Rage replied. “That bitch, Flamewar. Shot him right through the spark, left us with the options of either reformatting him into a completely new bot, or…” “Yeah…” Smallfoot sniffled. “I-I understand. Hound wouldn’t have wanted that, it’d have been like taking away everything he ever was. Please tell me Flamewar’s suffered for that?” “Haven’t killed her yet,” Road Rage replied. “But I’ve made sure she’s gotten a few knocks and dings since.” “Good,” Outback replied. “Bitch deserves it. Say, where’s Prowl?” “Out on a scouting run, heard of an Energon deposit that might have been worth mining or at least taking a look at. Hopefully, he’ll get to it before the ‘Cons get wind of it, and send Octane down to sweep it out from under us.” Perceptor explained. “And Sentinel Prime’s okay with this? One of his top troops going off on his own like this?” A loud laughter echoed through the base as Swerve walked up, the minibot clutching his sides in amusement. “Sentinel?” he laughed. “Wooooow, you guys are really, and I mean really behind the times. Sentinel was two Primes ago! We're on Nova Prime now!” “Well, excuse us for fleeing before Cybertron became even more of a Pit than it was already!” Smallfoot snapped, and before a fight could break out between her and Swerve, Outback managed to step in between the two. “Woah woah, cool your engines mates,” the Toyota alt-moded Autobot remarked. “We’re all friends here, right guys? Save the punches for the ‘Cons, eh?” “So, what happened to Sentinel?” Smallfoot asked curiously, eyebrow raised under her visor. “I mean, guy was a jackass at times, but I always thought he’d live forever. He took punches, man oh man did he take them! Seemed invincible.” “Alas, if that were only the case eh?” Perceptor remarked. “Sadly, Deathsaurus had other ideas. And frankly, if you pardon me speaking ill of the dead, I’m more impressed with the Prime who came next. Sentinel, good at leadership and combat, but like you said his personality left something to be… desired.” “Too true,” Outback agreed. “Wasn’t the most empathic of Primes. I’ll say that much. So, who’d we get next?” “You ever heard of that archivist named Orion Pax, the one who always accompanied Megatron when he was making waves in the political arena?” Swerve asked. Smallfoot and Outback nodded, before they shared a look with optics widened. “Wait, you don’t mean to say…?” Smallfoot trailed off. “Yep, right on the money there. Orion Pax, got handed the Matrix of Leadership after Sentinel got scrapped and became Optimus Prime,” Swerve continued. “Man, was I, along with everyone else shocked when this massive truck came barreling through the ruins of Polyhex. I remember it like it was yesterday…” Megatron smirked as he watched one of the walls of the once mighty city-state of Polyhex come crumbling down. The siege was almost over, the Autobots just didn’t know it yet. Amongst the spilled energon, the ruined walls, and towers of fire rising high into the night sky, the Decepticon leader drove his forces into the heart of the city. He chuckled. Onslaught had done good work today, the Combaticon leader and his siege forces weakening the defenses of the city for Megatron to give the final push as it were. His gaze briefly wandered to a nearby battlefield, where he saw Onslaught pointing to a group of entrenched Autobot soldiers. A shout rang out amongst the battlefield, Onslaught ordering: “Armored Division, assume siege modes and open fire at designated coordinates. We’re taking control of this situation, ending this farce!” Parts shifted as tanks became cannons, and shelled the Autobot forces with mortar shots, showering them practically. Ruins of the once great city were coming down all around them, with Autobot known as Trailbreaker only just barely able to hold back the crumbling rubble with his forcefield generator, creating a small energy bubble of orange-yellow light over the group. “Again!” Onslaught ordered, pointing directly at the Autobots. “I don’t want a single Autobot standing, you hear?” The armor division began to ready their next wave of shots, as Trailbreaker looked towards another Autobot. Hound, if Megatron remembered correctly. “Sir, I’m not sure we can take another shelling like that!” he shouted, cracks like little fractures of glass in his forcefield already beginning to show. “Now, I’m all for one final last stand, going out in a blaze of glory and all that and getting tales to be told about us, but this is foolish! I’m opting for a surrender! Maybe… just maybe, we’ll get lucky and they’ll just take us prisoner instead!” Megatron smirked as he saw Trailbreaker reaching for a flag, only for his smile to drop when he used it to bind Hound’s wounds, a small argument seemingly reinvigorating Trailbreaker’s lost courage. The remaining Autobot forces charged, right through the heart of Onslaught’s own troops catching them off guard and in this momentary burst of surprise they scythed their way through the armored division with Road Rage drop kicking Onslaught to the ground. Megatron let out a small burst of laughter, he had to admire their bravery and loyalty to their own or whatever it was that kept this group going. He was banking on stupidity personally. Aiming his infamous fusion cannon, the Great Slagmaker fired one shot at Hound, a purple ball of energon heading right towards the dark green soldier. Trailbreaker’s eyes widened, and just in time, he threw up a shield which held briefly but shattered and sent it’s own flying back into some rubble. “Oh, such heroic nonsense…” Megatron muttered to himself, shaking his head. “But nonsense all the same.” he readied his fusion cannon for another shot, this one aimed directly at Hound’s spark. One clean blast, a quick and simple death for the battered Autobot. Practically painless. He deserved that much, Megatron admitted, for lasting this long with nobody coming to back him or his troops up. He admired that in his foes, their tenacity. Then, before the shot could be fired, he heard the loud rumble of an engine, and his head whipped around to see a ring-adorned metallic bridge beginning to form, metal shifting and merging as from a highway from Iacon came a shape. Red and blue, streamlined resembling a truck of some sort. Smashing through a small barricade, sending Vehicons flying into the air the truck continued its advance. Megatron’s optics narrowed, something about that truck seemed almost… familiar in some way. He just couldn’t place this familiarity. “Well, I have to admire this one for his bravery. And his foolishness.” Megatron mused. The truck picked up speed, and finally Megatron’s soldiers recovered from their stunned stupor and opened fire. One of his jets launched a missile at the truck, who simply swerved to the side to avoid the blast. Another missile was fired, this one exploding behind the truck and the ground beneath his wheels began to crumble out from under him, but the truck didn’t seem to be bothered, and only picked up speed. He proceeded to begin plowing right through the ranks, sending Bombshock flying skywards and the truck crushing another Insecticon named Chop Shop under his wheels. One Seeker, named Hooligan with a tiger stripe color scheme tried to launch himself skywards, and was indeed launched when he was rammed head-on by this newcomer, Hooligan only having a brief second to see himself in the gleaming red paint of the truck’s front end before he went flying. Kickback and another Seeker, Red Wing tried and all credit where credit was due, tried to fire upon this newcomer but were simply knocked aside with Red Wing getting the worst of it. It was then Breakdown summed up what was probably on everyone’s minds about then with a remark of: “Oh, we’re screwed man!” and transformed fleeing the battlefield as with a shifting and whirring of parts the unknown Autobot transformed into a massive bipedal shape. This shape was mostly comprised of a red paint scheme with blue legs, and a blue horned head that had a battle mask flip up over the Bot’s faceplates leaving only two stoic blue optics visible. Several Vehicons, in one last desperate struggle tried to take him on, but were only cut down by an orange bladed battle axe, one getting split right down the middle. Megatron’s eyes widened, as he felt a familiar surge of energy from the unknown Autobot, a surge he’d felt only a few times before in the presence of one other Autobot. The distinctive energies of the Matrix of Leadership. “You… Who are you!?!” Megatron yelled out at the unknown Prime, a blade of metal flipping out from his wrist. “Your worst nightmare. You’ve caused enough destruction for one day… Megatronus.” the Prime said, and then Megatron finally placed it, the familiarity. That voice, those colors and the familiarity of the name he called him by. Only one bot with a combination of those features ever existed in his memory banks. “Orion…” Megatron smiled warmly. Not his usual cruel smile, but one of pride. “So, you’ve become a Prime now have you? Guess those old fools in the high council really did get desperate, to choose a clerk as the successor of the great Sentinel Prime!” he teased in a lighthearted manner. “Megatronus, it truly sorrows me how far you’ve fallen,” Orion remarked. “Look around you, just take a look around! Is this what you wanted when you vied for change?” “It was the only way Orion!” Megatron argued, their blades meeting with a scatter of sparks. “Those stubborn old fools wouldn’t know change if it stared them in the face!” “The name is Optimus now, Megatron,” Orion replied, blades meeting once more, each matching the other in equal combat. Long ago, before the two diverged Megatron taught Orion in the ways of combat, just in case the time arrived where he would need to defend himself he would know how. Optimus understood what Megatron meant now, perhaps even back then he was planning his revolution. “Look me in the eye and say you want it ended, and it will end.” “Oh, and it will end Prime,” Megatron replied. “As soon as the old world order is torn down, and my ideas replace it. No more with Cybertronians suffer under a classist system, one which delegates their standing in life via their alt-modes!” he shouted, dodging a downwards swing from Optimus’s axe. All the while, Autobots and Decepticons alike watched from little hiding holes in the rubble -Swerve amongst them- as the two great warriors and old friends did battle. “And you’ll do this by reducing Cybertron to ruin?” Optimus snarled. “Destroying anyone who stands in your way?” “Why must you persist, old friend?” Megatron asked, blades meeting once more. "Don't be surprised, Megatron. This is exactly what you wanted, a common cause united for change. It’s just you’re not on that cause. And I fight you not as the leader of the Autobots, but as the leader of all Transformers! Understand this old friend,” Optimus remarked. “Until I bring you back from the edge of the abyss you so chose to stand on, I will not give in and I will not let Cybertron fall to your warmongering!” “Understand this. So long as you stand in my way- so long as anybody stands in my way, I will respond by killing. Murder on an industrial scale,” Megatron replied, and Optimus hung his head in shame and sorrow, realizing that words would not be enough to sway his old friend from his current path. “Because in the final analysis, I would happily wade across a river of corpses, chest-deep in rust and grease and engine oil, just to crush the spark of the last Autobot standing. And I would do so not simply as a means to an end, no. I'd do it, Prime, because it would give me pleasure.” A sudden roar of rage from Optimus, and a powerful swing cleaved a long gash in Megatron’s chest plates, and Megatron, sensing the tide of battle had turned at least for the moment transformed into his jet mode and rocketed skywards Optimus watching him all the while. No, this would not be the end of their conflict. It was only the beginning. “Now that… That was a day that’ll live long in history, don’t you think?” Swerve remarked. “Yeah, the war started to finally turn in our favor for the first time in cycles, I’d like to think,” Outback agreed. “Those dingos had a new challenge now, not just a Prime who was skilled in combat and leadership, but one who progressed more than a degree of empathy as well, something that had been lacking from the lineage of Primes for ages. Hell, I think old Ops turned a few Decepticons to the Autobot side just by his offers of mercy or other acts of kindness,” he remarked. “Yeah, that’s what we needed,” Perceptor agreed. “A leader who was truly focused on ending the war, not just scrapping every Decepticon in sight. Someone who had vision. Seemed like a hopeless dream back then, but…” “Look at it now,” Swerve smiled. “It’s a reality. Cybertron’s slowly piecing itself back together, bit by bit and for the most part old grudges have been cast aside. Hell, Optimus’s successor even made peace with the Predacons! We have both him and Optimus to thank for… well, having good bots like Sunder along,” Swerve smiled gesturing to the rafters where the eagle-like Predacon was resting, before bleeping out his usual greeting. “But, like I said, for the most part.” Just then, the sound of a helicopter’s rotors was heard from somewhere above, and Perceptor and Swerve shared a nod. “Yep, that’d be Fowler. I remember him saying he was supposed to check up on us, to see if we haven’t pancaked a mini-mall or something or other.” Perceptor remarked before scoffing. “Like we’d be so careless!” “Who’s Fowler?” Smallfoot had to ask. “Our handl-” Swerve began before Road Rage cut him off. “Our official liaison with the US government, amongst other things,” she corrected him. “He, along with two others kinda keep our existence a secret from humankind as we all doubt they’re ready to handle the idea of giant alien robots existing just yet.” Road Rage remarked, and Outback chuckled. “Yeah, I can imagine.” the Autobot commented as Smallfoot shrugged. “Hey, you guys are so pessimistic,” Smallfoot commented. “Who’s to say, maybe humanity will welcome us with open arms!” “Oh yeah, then why’d we take Earth alt-modes?” Outback sniped even as Fowler walked in, blinking as he did so. “Okay… Am I imagining things or did you guys multiply?” he asked slowly, only for Smallfoot to wave confirming that no, he wasn’t on drugs. “Yeah, hi! Name’s Smallfoot, official scout of the Cybertronian ship the Van De Graff. That’s Outback, my partner in crime if you will.” she said with Outback giving a small bow. “Greetings mate,” Outback smiled. “Pleasure’s all mine, first time I’ve met a human I admit. I was expecting you to be… sorta bigger with the way these guys talk about you. You know, how Primes and other important bots get bigger chassis?” “Uh… no, I actually don’t…” Fowler trailed off, quite confused and a bit flattered he supposed. “So seems my job just got that little bit harder. Please tell me you guys had enough sense to take Earth vehicle disguises?” he asked, and Outback and Smallfoot gave him looks. Fowler laughed nervously. “Okay, stupid question. How many of you guys are there now?” “Alive or dead, mate?” Outback remarked. “Alive,” Fowler remarked. “In that case, aside from the ones you already know about, it’d be me, Smallfoot, Hoist, Hubcap, Night Ranger and our commander Pyra Magna,” Outback replied, and a few optics were raised, especially at the name Pyra Magna. It was said of Pyra Magna, that her very spark burned with a powerful flame that fueled her absolute, relentless will to survive. She never gave up, never backed down. In some ways, she could be the female counterpart to one Optimus Prime. She excelled at making the hard choices and had many victories to her name. The question is, why would she flee Cybertron on the Van De Graaff? “Hoo boy…” Fowler muttered, rubbing his temples and phoning someone, possibly the Pentagon or Special Agent Chrysalis at least. “Nice guy,” Outback remarked. “Needs to let off some stress a bit more.” “Yeah, but he comes through when you need him. And for the record,” Road Rage remarked. “I so ship him and Captain Spitfire.” “I heard that!” Fowler piped up in the background, knowing exactly what shipping was no thanks to both Chrysalis and his daughter’s fanfictions for something called Puella Magi Madoka Magica  he’d unluckily stumbled across. “Never change, never change…” Smallfoot replied, shaking her head. “Anyways, yeah, I did notice you get pursued by Eradicons and Vehicons a month or so back, and before that I saw you fighting a few Decepticons in Japan at a Nuclear power plant,” Smallfoot remarked before shuddering. “Primus, can’t imagine whoever is leading the Cons these days would want with nuclear fuel rods. I know they can be converted into energon, but not much else.” “You think maybe, and I hesitate to even think of the idea, they’re reviving the old Toxitron idea, but in small scale?” Swerve suggested. “The what idea?” Fowler questioned, hesitating to even ask. Swerve continued on, not really acknowledging his presence. This was normal for him, when he rambled everyone else sorta just faded into the background if you will. “By Nexus Prime, you remember some of the ‘Con Experiments during the war? Like Toxitron? Y’all remember Toxitron right? You know why he was called that right? Dripping with Tox-En!” Swerve exclaimed, fighting back a shudder. Smallfoot wasn’t so lucky. “Yeah, I remember that one. Dripping with that slime, whenever he came along we had to evacuate entire cities! Pretty sure Wheeljack at one point theorized the only way to stop him was a shot from low orbit! Did that ever happen by the way?” she inquired. “Nah,” Swerve replied. “We just got a Dynobot by the name of Swoop to drop a bomb down his throat.” “Sweet Abraham Lincoln and George Washington’s lovechild…” Fowler muttered, not for the first time reminded that these guys weren’t just a ragtag bunch of misfits but soldiers as well. “Well, we’ll figure this all out,” Outback nodded. “Now, we’ve seen your base. I think it’s only fair you see ours right?” “Quite.” Perceptor smiled as Outback fed the coordinates for the Van De Graaff’s crash site into the computers, before pressing a button and a swirling green vortex of energy opened up once more. “Wish we could lay out the welcome mat, but apologies, place is a mess,” Outback said as the group stepped through. “Eh, how bad could it be?” Perceptor remarked. “I’ve seen Cybertron after the war, this can’t be any worse, right?” he asked, looking towards Sunder as if to ask him to keep an eye on things while they were gone. Sunder, understanding him somehow gave him a salute with one of his wings as the group vanished into the groundbridge...