> Equestria Girls: Transformation
>  by The Bricklayer
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Canterlot:

It was a quiet night in the city of Canterlot. Cold as well, with so few people out and about willing to brave Maine’s harsh winters. A light wind blew through the trees, making them whistle in the wind, as gentle flurries of snow fell down on the ground.

For the most part, all was quiet. Very few cars were on the street that lonesome night, except for the occasional driver going home for the night in his or her sedan or pickup. Nothing really noteworthy, for the most part.

For the most part.

“Little bitty pretty one
Come on and talk to me
Lovey dovey, lovely one
Come sit down on my knee

“I'll tell you a story
Happened long time ago
Little bitty pretty one
I've been watchin' you grow…” 
A car’s radio sang softly in the night. A soft revving of an engine was heard as an almost pure white form turned the corner of a street. Almost pure white, with crimson red detailing on the hood, and small dark purple highlights on the doors and bumper. Silver rims accompanied that, as if to top things all off.

The engine revved a few times more, as if the driver was just showing off his car’s power. Which, given the make and model of the car -A 2001 Lamborghini Diablo to be exact- was probably entirely expected. After all, you had a high powered Supercar, you didn’t just have it sit in the garage all day now did you? No, you took it out for a drive and showed it and your money off.

Course, this did come with it’s cons, as anything did in life. It also gained you derision as a huge show-off and possibly a playboy with money to burn and not much sense.

As was the thoughts running through the head of one Indigo Zap as she walked down a silent street past a shop. A dark blue haired girl, with arctic blue streaks running through her hair and goggles hanging around her neck, she was dressed in a maroon bomber jacket to protect her from the cold.

She rolled her eyes at the sight of the car, and shook her head.

“Honestly,” she thought to herself. “Could you get any more ostentatious than that in a car? ...Well, suppose if you were driving a Bugatti maybe. One in chrome gold, perhaps. That would be even worse.” 

She chuckled, she’d heard on the news a while back some rich rapper had bought exactly that. She idly wondered for a brief moment if this Lambo passing by was owned by the same dude, until she remembered said rapper didn’t live anywhere near Maine. California, possibly. Probably in Los Angeles or somewhere like that. Sunset Boulevard, and the Hollywood Hills. That and Las Pegasus were the place for cars like that.

“Least it’s not blaring the music loudly, that’s a relief,” Indigo remarked before admitting privately to herself: “Actually, it’s not that terrible. Kinda catchy, really… Swear I’ve heard this in some movie somewhere at one of Lemon’s movie nights.”

Another gust of wind blew, and she shivered and brought her arms closer to herself. “Damn weather, can’t believe I had to be out this late, and all just to see a movie… A bad one at that! ...Seriously, can’t really see what everyone sees in these Superhero flicks. Gotta agree with Sugarcoat on this one, just a lot of special effects and other eye-catching things with very little plot. ...Honestly, Martha? What kind of stupid plotline was that?” she mentally ranted to no one in particular. She swore she was going to kill Lemon for recommending that film, slowly and painfully. “...Least that car/tank in the film was cool, and you could clearly tell the actor for the main villain was having fun with his character.” Indigo thought to herself as she shivered once again. Suddenly, she noticed something, a certain sound had gone eerily quiet.

She took a look back behind her, and saw that the car was gone. Must have turned down another street corner, she surmised.

Of course, when she looked in front of her, Indigo found her eyes widening in shock. There it was, the Lamborghini right in front of her. She let out a soft yelp of surprise, not able to figure out exactly how that car had vanished and then reappeared in front of her so fast. Indigo’s arm found itself forcing its way up to shield her eyes from the headlights.

“Woah, dude!” Indigo shouted in annoyance. “Dim those lights of yours, man!”

Her eyes couldn’t see through the front window of the car to see who exactly was driving. Whether they were tinted, or it was just due to the dark of the night, she couldn’t tell. On the hood, there lay a purple detail of some mean looking robotic face, purple in color with sharp angles.

Then she heard a very distinctive roar, the sound of the Lamborghini’s engine revving up and her eyes widened in shock and horror as she realized what the driver was planning on doing.

“You… You gotta be freaking kidding me!” Indigo whispered.

Indigo’s feet started moving, fast as they could. As she ran, she heard the distinctive roar of the Lambo’s engine behind her, and tires squealing as it chased after her down a back alleyway. A garbage can was hit, and sent flying. Some of its contents hit Indigo, but she was too focused on running for her life to care about that.

Indigo found herself on Main Street, past the local KO Burger joint she worked at in her off-time to make a buck or two. Meaningless job, but right now she wished she was doing the monotonous task of flipping patties and dealing with grumpy customers and whiny kids instead of this.

She turned to look behind her as she rounded another corner, and saw the mysterious Diablo was still in hot pursuit like a car out of the Fast and Furious series. In the back of her mind, she remembered what it’s name stood for.

Devil.

“Great, going to die by a mad driver before I even hit twenty…” Indigo deadpanned, at least trying to make some humor before her demise.

Of course, for every devil or demon… There was an angel. In this case, it came in the form of yet another car ironically enough.

Red and blue lights were in the corner of Indigo’s eyes, and police sirens filled her ears. A black and white car came out of nowhere and slammed the mysterious Lamborghini in the side, sending it smacking into the wall of a building. Tires squealed, and smoke rose up as it took its leave, with the police car taking chase after it.

Indigo fell to her knees, and let out a little sob of relief, as sweat trailed down her face. Suddenly she wasn’t so cold anymore. As she picked herself up off the sidewalk, and started her long walk home, she would later realize one crucial detail about her savior.

It was an old Nissan Fairlady Z, something everyone knew wasn’t used as a police car in America...







Crystal Prep Academy:

Crystal Prep’s cafeteria was quite lively today. Many of the tables on the ground floor had students occupying each seat, with only a handful of open spaces left. Every table on the mezzanine was completely taken, with students chattering among themselves as they dug into some of the high-quality food. The place itself was relatively tidy, with not a single wrapper, piece of food, or cutlery piece thrown to the ground.

The food counters to the right were also being handled in an orderly fashion. There was a much wider variety of foods on offer, with some dishes other schools would only dream of serving. Every student by the counters pointed out what they wanted, with the lunch staff almost immediately procuring it for them. Once they made it to the end, they whipped out their cash and credit cards and swiftly paid the cashier before voyaging out to the tables.

There was a large skylight above the room with a chandelier hanging from it. The fixture in question was gold with a few streaks of purple, so as to represent the school’s headlining sports team; the Shadowbolts. Despite the rain pattering down on the glass above, the place was still breathtaking and made all of the students feel tiny in comparison.

Nearby, a girl with dark pink colored skin dressed in a red sweater was banging her head loudly to rock music blared through her headphones. Her hair was a distinct lime green, identifying her as one Lemon Zest. ...That is if the headphones and her singing loudly hadn’t given that away already.

“After all is said and done, you've never walked, you've never run
You're a winner!
Got the moves, you know the street. Break the rules, take the heat!
You're nobody's fool!

“You're at your best, when the going gets rough!
You've been put to the test, but it's never enough!
You got the touch, you got the power!
When all hell's breakin' loose, you'll be right in the eye of the storm!

“You got the heart, you got the motion!
You know that when things get too tough, you got the Touch!” Lemon sang, throwing up the peace sign as she continued banging her head before mimicking an air guitar. Nearby, a head thudded against a table. That head belonged to a bluish gray-skinned girl, with her opal hair tied in twin pigtails.

“Really Lemon?” Sugarcoat asked, taking off her glasses and rubbing her temples in annoyance. A classic quirk of hers when faced with situations like this. Unsurprisingly, a few involved Lemon’s… energetic personality. “Not all of us want to hear your music, or your singing.”

“Hey, not like there’s some woman with a stick up her ass that’ll come bearing down on my any second like the Batman to tell me off anymore.” Lemon deadpanned, and Sugarcoat smirked a little at that.

She had to admit, ever since Cinch got the sack, everything at Crystal Prep had gotten better, Cadence was much more free-spirited really, and allowed the students to loosen up more. In fact, she encouraged it. Up to a point anyways. Sugarcoat smirked, as she still remembered the day Cinch got tossed out on her ass…







“You’re doing what?!” Cinch bellowed, slamming a hand on her desk in anger. The little globe on it rattled from the force of the strike.,

“Forget any talk of worming your way out of this one, Abacus,” Superintendent Faust said as she lowered her brows and crossed her arms. “The evidence here is proof positive that you’ve been abusing your power to suit your own ideals.” she slung a dossier across Cinch’s desk, which opened up to reveal notes and letters that had been written by her own students. Twilight’s one, unsurprisingly, was at the bottom of the folder.

In the back of the room, seemingly blending in with the shadows was a dark-skinned woman in a nice suit—Government issued, it looked like—with long, dark blue hair, opal eyeshadow and dark green eyes that seemed to stare right into your very soul. Her name was (Very) Special Agent Chrysalis, -At least that’s what she’d like everyone to call her- direct from the FBI.

“And,” Chrysalis continued, holding up a video camera—Borrowed from one of the students who wished to go unnamed—“Must we forget this?”

She played the video recorded on the camera, depicting Midnight Sparkle, as some had started to call her, opening up gates to another reality, and facing off against an angelic girl with flaming red hair.

“Can’t exactly ignore something like that happening under your watch, can we?” Chrysalis sneered.

“You have no right to intrude on matters that aren’t your own!” Cinch threw her arm behind her. “I demand to speak with my lawyer!”

“He’s not coming!” Faust shouted in Cinch’s face, knocking her back into the chair. “The point is, YOU did this, Abacus. You single-handedly risked the fate of the world over a silly little sporting event and even had your students push a teenage girl into using a power she didn’t understand,” she said. “Do you know how… insane that is?”

“Not the word I’d use…” Chrysalis muttered to herself quietly as Faust took a few calming breaths.

“And to think, you then wanted our help to put Canterlot High in a negative light. That alone warrants you being kicked from the board itself, and blacklisted from the educational system…” Faust wasn’t always this angry, but something inside of her had snapped. Child endangerment was always something that really pissed her off. “If you have any last words before you’re thrown out, say them. Otherwise, I would ask that you leave this school immediately, so that we may welcome our new principal.”

Cinch growled, and spat in Faust’s face. “Go to hell. And another thing, what’s the government got to do with just a simple school matter?”

“Blackmail is a serious offense, Abacus, I asked Chrysalis to come here personally so she could deal with you,” Faust said before she stepped back and let Chrysalis walk forward. “Who knows what your sentence will be?”

“Honestly, my insides are screaming at me to just poison your water or food, as considering half of what you pulled…” Chrysalis trailed off. “I’m not above doing some very unsavory things, haven’t always been an FBI agent. Worked with wetworks before, so I’ve done so things that would make even the darkest of people wake up screaming,” she said in a low tone, and Cinch nervously swallowed. “But considering that part of me isn’t needed here, I think simply firing you and blacklisting you from any school should suffice, don’t you think?” Chrysalis asked, turning back to her old friend, and looking her dead in the eye. It was a warning look, for Faust to tone things down and start acting in a more professional manner.

A few minutes later, Cinch was seen by everyone in the school, teachers and students alike peeking out of their classrooms, as she walked from her office in shame -Head hung low- and out towards the parking lot towards her car.

Nearby, a student with cyan skin and purple hair that had been cut short, wearing Crystal Prep’s uniform was sobbing quietly to herself. She’d heard everything from outside the office door and had fled the scene as soon as she heard what was going to happen to her mom. Faust put a hand on her shoulder and looked at her kindly as she helped her up off the floor.

“...Did, did we really have to do that? I… I mean, she was my mom and all and. What she did was horrid I admit, but getting her blacklisted?” Sunny asked.

“Sunny, if we let her get into another place of education, it would only repeat. She would do it again, and we can't allow that, can we?” Faust replied, giving the poor girl a look of sympathy. “I know this is hard for you to understand, but you did the right thing." she sighed to herself.

“Did I really?” Sunny asked, not believing that for a moment.

“You admit that what she did was wrong, and you disagreed with it. You stood up to her," Faust nodded. "You realized that what she was doing was hurting people, and you stopped her. Yes, that was a good thing.”

"What if what she’s learned from this enough? What is this is too extreme?" Sunny mumbled "It's just as wrong for her punishment to be unfair. Do you think this fair?"

“Perhaps not,” Faust admitted as she pulled her into a hug. “Perhaps maybe I was too harsh, I don’t know. It’s never easy, these things.”

“I… I didn’t mean for her to get fired! Honestly, I didn’t!” Sunny sniffled as she sobbed into Faust’s shoulder. “I… I just wanted her to face charges for what she did! Reel her in, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah… But you must understand, what your mother did was wrong, and she needed to face punishment for this. Child endangerment, blackmail…” Faust trailed off.

“Yeah, I suppose…” Sunny sniffled.

“Now stand up tall, that’s how a Crystal Prep student’s supposed to be right? Standing tall and proud? Eyes forward, never looking back and striving to better themselves?” Faust asked and Sunny nodded.

As the young student walked off, Chrysalis returned, and watched Sunny’s retreating form with a look of worry.

“She going to be alright?” the Special Agent asked in concern.

“Honestly, I don’t know…” Faust admitted. “We did just fire her mom, after all. Kept her from working in any school system ever again. And what if Cinch finds out who provided the footage?” she asked worriedly, and Chrysalis put a hand on her shoulder.

“She won’t, at least I hope not,” the FBI agent replied. “And if that does happen, we’ll worry about it then.”

“Yeah…” Faust replied, still looking upon the young girl with worry. She reminded her far too much of a younger Chrysalis for her own liking… Maybe that wasn’t such a terrible thing at times, but it was still a cause for concern…

“Hey, you still worrying?” Chrysalis asked, snapping her friend back to reality.

“N-No, I’m fine.” Faust replied.

“Really?” Chrysalis asked, looking at her friend with a raised eyebrow. “Come on, I’ll buy you some drinks, maybe that’ll loosen your nerves.”

Faust actually laughed at that. Always trying to get a woman into bed with her, Chrysalis was.

“At this hour?” Faust teased. “You really are desperate aren’t you?”

“...Well, you know how it is,” her friend replied, a slight blush gracing her features. “Hard to find a good date half the time. Harder still to find one that can… keep up shall we say.”

Faust just rolled her eyes.







“Hey, something wrong?” Sugarcoat asked, as she took note of the look on Indigo’s face, one of worry and fear. “Seem distracted, Lemon’s music didn’t even get to you, and you always, and I mean always pay attention to her music no matter what it is…”

Inwardly, she suspected Indigo may have had a crush on Lemon, but she needed more evidence to confirm her theory.

“Yeah man, have to agree with Sugarcoat here, you seem like something’s bugging away at you,” Lemon put in. “Haven’t seen you this worried or distracted since the last big game.”

“Sorry, it’s just…” Indigo began, not sure where to start.

“Hey, take your time. We’re all friends here, and we’re patient.” Lemon reassured, patting her friend on the shoulder as she sat down next to her, pulling up a chair.

“Last night… had an encounter.” Indigo began shakily, and her friends all shared nervous looks. Sugarcoat sucked in a breath.

“Was it with a man… Did he try and…?” Sugarcoat asked, not wanting to finish the sentence. All conversation at the table stopped right then and there.

“Wasn’t like that,” Indigo reassured her friends, and a few sighs of relief were heard. “Although it could have been a man, or a woman. Couldn’t see.”

“Couldn’t see what?” Sugarcoat pressed.

“The driver of the car who tried to run me down,” Indigo replied, and more gasps came from her friends.

“Dude, are you kidding?” Lemon asked, her voice nearly a shout before it lowered and became one of concern. “Seriously, tell me you’re kidding us.”

“Wish I was. Think I saw my life flash before my eyes once or twice...” Indigo muttered. “Didn’t get the license plate number, sadly. Too scared out of my mind to look.”

“Wonderful…” Lemon muttered in response. “Did you at least get the make and model of the car so we can at least try and sue their asses off?”

“Early 2000s Lamborghini Diablo, heavily customized from the look of it. White, with red and purple detailings and silver rims,” Indigo explained. “Never seen one around here, now that I think of it.”

“Well, if it’s a new guy, or girl in town with this kind of car, should be easy enough to track down. Not like many of these cars exist really…” Sugarcoat muttered. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, and this is where it gets really odd… Right before he or she could run me down, this old Nissan in police livery rammed it in the side door,” Indigo said. “Like really old, classic car.”

“Okay, a classic Nissan in police deco?” Sugarcoat asked, and Indigo nodded before a thought came to her.

“...Actually, now that I think of it, I didn’t see the driver of the Nissan either…”

Right then and there, Sugarcoat whipped out her phone.

“Who you calling?” Lemon asked.

“Old alumni of ours… Transferred over to CHS, you might know her.” Sugarcoat replied as she looked through her contacts list.

“Wait, you don’t mean…?” Lemon trailed off, eyes widened.

“Yeah, Twilight Sparkle. If anyone knows anything about technology of this level, it’s her.”
> Part 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Canterlot High School: Library

Twilight found herself groaning when she heard her phone ringing, and she heard a shush from the librarian, Ms. Cheerilee. Whispering a “Sorry!” she turned her attentions back to her ringing phone.

The ringtone, it was an old tune, jazzy in nature. (She blamed her older brother for turning her on to things like John Coltrane) She looked at the face of who was calling and smiled slightly when she saw Sugarcoat’s face.

Twilight went upstairs to a secluded area amongst some bookshelves and answered the phone. Nearby, the Canterlot Movie Club, or the CMC for short gave her some glares as well as they glanced up from a history textbook.

Whispering another apology, she sighed and held her phone up to her ear.

“...Really, you couldn’t have called me after school?” Twilight groaned. “You’re lucky I’m in the library, not in a class and earning myself a detention! A detention!” Twilight squeaked in fear. She could have sworn she heard Sugarcoat chuckle at the other end of the line.

“Sorry,” Sugarcoat apologized before chuckling again. “Never change Twi, never change. New school, same old you. Only you’d be in a library freaking out over detentions while it’s lunchtime. ...Seriously, why aren’t you at the cafeteria at this hour?” she asked.

“Brought my own quick snack, fruit bars and a bottle of water. Quick and healthy, so I could catch up on my studies.” Twilight replied.

“...Oh, we’re getting off topic anyways,” Sugarcoat sighed. “Listen, can you run down something on the computer?”

“What’s this about?”

“License plate of some loon who tried to run Indigo down last night.” her friend explained. Twilight let out a sharp, short gasp of shock.

“Oh my God, she alright?”

“I said tried, didn’t I?” Sugarcoat asked flatly. “But can you…?”

“Yeah, I’ll get on…” Twilight trailed off as she saw a curious looking creature looking at her through a window. It was largely orange, with some gold flecks and avian in nature. “...Uh, listen, I gotta call you right back. Something just came up.” Twilight whispered, in awe at the bird as she approached it. As she got closer, her eyes widened as she noticed the mechanical nature of the creature.

“...Far beyond any technology that I know off. Like some sort of super advanced robot,” Twilight murmured before a thought came to her. “...Wonder if it’s Japanese?”

The bird seemed to give her an offended look, if that was possible for such a creature. It then flapped its wings and took off, using its head to gesture for Twilight to follow.

“Oh… Know I’m going to get in huge trouble for this, but this is too curious to ignore…” she thought to herself as she ran out the library door and followed after the strange creature...







Somewhere outside the city, there lay an old canyon. The locals called it the Ghastly Gorge, for it was rumored that late some nights, mobsters from the city’s 20s and 30s dragged out people who displeased them and killed them here. None of this could be proven of course, or nobody cared enough to prove it with modern day technology more likely. After all, it was in the minds of the city council that they’d been dead for years, and even then it was just unsubstantiated rumors, so why bother wasting funds to look for bodies that may not even exist?

Years later, it served as a spot for teenagers to take their sweethearts, a lover’s lane if you will. Nice and secluded, far enough away from civilization that nobody would disturb them. You could just lay your blanket out on the sand, and look up at the twinkling stars above you and just cuddle up to your sweetheart -and maybe more- if you wanted. Only observers would have been the local wildlife hiding in the rows upon rows of pine trees and untamed wilderness that flanked either side of the gorge.

Of course, if you were the wilder sort, the gorge could help you with that as well. It had also served as a spot for off-roaders to race their tuned dirt bikes, trucks and dune buggies. It was quite the challenging course, with the gorge filled with tight corners, big rocks to swerve around (Or smash into) and other such things.

But it was the seclusion that was mainly of interest to a certain party, one that Indigo Zap had run into last night. Hidden deep within the canyon walls was a base, one that could probably be described as a nerd’s heaven with the improvements made to it. Once a simple silo used to house missiles during the Cold War era, now it hid away something else of a different technological persuasion.

“PROWL!” one angry voice echoed through the base, as a dark-skinned man wearing a blue suit walked angrily into the main room.

“Oh boy… He’s pissed.” someone chuckled, a small little red and white bot with a blue visor that hid his optics. “Wonder what our dear leader did to tick off the Pentagon?”

“Beats the scrap out of me, really,” a bot who was covered in military green paint with a shoulder-mounted missile cannon commented as he fiddled with what looked to be a small pistol. “But whatever it is, I’m sure he had his reasons Swerve. Prowl thinks in logic, nothing else. Robo-Spock, really. Has to be, someone needs to be the bot around here who uses their brains in a fight instead of charging headlong into one, guns a-blazing.”

“Hey, are you implying that…?” Swerve started, holding up his fists like a boxer would before a cough from behind them interrupted the two. Standing behind both Swerve and the other Autobot was a mostly red bot, with a dark blue helm with a chevron on it. Two wings jutted out from the bot’s feminine like form, with twin missile launchers on her back. Her shoulder pads had two wheels attached to them.

“Cool it you two,” Road Rage warned. “Hound, I know Swerve can be a pain in the aft (She chose to ignore the small “Hey!” from the bot in question) but can you too just stow it for a moment and let Fowler speak?”

“You mean yell?” Hound joked, as he watched Fowler survey the room in search of the bot named Prowl.

“...Er, yes… That.” Road Rage admitted embarrassingly, and if you looked closely, you could see her cheeks tinged with red.

“Where’s Prowl?” Fowler asked, his hands gripping tightly onto a metal railing as he looked around the room.

“Took the groundbridge out a few hours ago, to use the human manner of time measurement,” Hound replied. “Went to scan for where the Cons might be hiding.”

“I’d say he found one late last night,” Fowler commented. “Any of you check the news lately?”

“Sorry, I don’t watch human news. Loads of scrap anyways,” Hound said. “Always political debate, after political debate. And I thought Cybertron’s politics were bad…” he groaned out in disgust.

“Well, I for one find the news fascinating, about one of the only ways we can learn about this world as of this moment.” Road Rage put in. She was one of the Autobots most interested in human culture, aside from Hound. It came with being a former diplomat, as she once worked alongside a fellow Autobot named Crosscut going to alien worlds and forging relationships with them.

She’d then been recruited by Prowl as part of his team to track down rogue Decepticons, and when she and the rest of the crew had crash-landed on Earth, she’d jumped at the chance when Prowl asked her and Hound to scout out the planet and learn everything they could about it’s cultures. She’d even found herself a nice classic Corvette Stingray alt-mode in the bargain.

Hound had been the more sensible sort, and found an Army jeep as his alt mode.

“Then you have no excuse for not checking it,” Fowler commented, as he looked in her direction before flipping on a TV. Road Rage winced, on it was a woman talking about a police car seemingly gone mad as the driver -Whoever that may have been- rammed a very expensive looking sports car. Locals were questioned, and they said they wanted this guy’s badge on account of needless police brutality.

One particular local said: “I admit, this guy probably had reason to do such a thing, maybe this guy robbed a bank or stole some drugs from someplace,” the girl on TV, a tan-skinned one with freckles on her face, with red hair with light green streaks, said before her voice changed. “But then again, he could have killed the guy inside by the sheer force of that hit! I want him arrested, want him put on public trial!” she bellowed. Hound had to chuckle at the name displayed below. Sour Sweet indeed.

“Oh boy…” Road Rage sighed to herself, shaking her head. Right about then, a green swirling vortex opened up and Prowl drove in -In the exact same vehicle form displayed on the TV- before transforming just in time to see the news.

Parts began to shift and move and cogs turned as whirring and clanking sounds were heard. A head popped out, and doors ended up hanging out from the sides of Prowl’s body as the back end and rear windows of his alternate mode became his feet. His helm resembled Road Rage’s in basic design and concept, except white with red chevrons.

“Slag…” Prowl cursed to himself quietly as he watched what was on the TV.

“So, want to explain this?” Fowler asked.

“It was a Con, he was stalking this human girl and was trying to run her down. Breakdown, by the color scheme, unless I miss my guess,” Prowl replied. “One of the Stunticons anyways, given his driving style. I took the most logical, and humane aspect, and intervened.”

“That I can’t blame you for, but you did this in full view of traffic cams in a severely outdated alt mode. Nobody in America uses Nissans as Police cars anymore!” Fowler shouted.

“And that’s the genius of it,” Prowl put in. “As you said, nobody uses my current alt mode as a police car anymore, so they’re likely to think, eventually, that it’s just some idiot human masquerading as a cop for kicks. The car’s license plates on my alt mode, they belong to a long-dead human in Japan if anyone was going to go searching,” he continued. “So, no serious questions would be asked. At worse, someone would think that his car was stolen by somebody and that person is now using this car to commit crimes under the guise of a police officer.”

“Except,” Fowler argued. “When you’re now on the 3:00 news in that car form of yours, you’re too obvious. When you came to this planet, you said you were supposed to be robots in disguise, right?”

“Ah, that would be a problem…” Prowl was forced to admit. “Guess it is time for a change. Doubt you can just put in a requisition order for a Police car though…”

“Oh, you’d be surprised…” Fowler trailed off. “I actually planned ahead for such an occasion, and if you search in the back rooms you’ll find a new Ford Police Interceptor waiting for you to scan,”

“So, guess that solves that then,” Road Rage commented, and Fowler shook his head.

“Except if they get a close look at you and realize there’s no driver at the wheel,” he put in.

“That’s something I’ve been working on, actually,” Hound replied, and all heads turned to him. “Observe. Now, this is just a prototype I admit, but the concept should be simple enough,”

He raised his pistol, and fired a beam of light, and where it hit, a soldier was displayed.

“Holographic drivers… One for each of us, once you get this implemented properly and all the kinks worked out, of course.” Road Rage realized, snapping her fingers as she did so.

“...Okay, while you do that, I just realized I have to pick my daughter up from school. It’s about to let out soon, so if you excuse me…” Fowler said, as he headed for the exit. In his pocket rested a picture of a smiling teenage girl, cyan skinned with short purple hair. It looked as if part of the picture had been cut out, as there seemed to be a hand on Sunny’s shoulder. None of the bots could see this of course, or know the importance, but it was there all the same.

“I understand, Agent Fowler,” Prowl nodded. “Spending time with one’s family is such a rare opportunity in your line of work I suspect.”

Fowler nodded sadly, before he headed for the elevator. Nearby, Road Rage smirked.

“So… Hound. Your idea, I like it. But, one question though.”

“Yes?” Hound asked.

“Do we get to customize our drivers?” Road Rage asked with a small smirk gracing her faceplate.










With Fowler:

The ride home from Crystal Prep Academy was mostly a silent and awkward one, like it had been for the past few weeks. Fowler sat at the wheel of his sedan, with his daughter in the passenger’s seat.

“So… Uh, how 'bout some music?” Fowler asked, looking towards his daughter. “Listen, I know my tastes in the Nashville sound aren’t exactly what you kids like these days, so I went out and bought some CDs of more… modern music.”

Fowler pulled out a CD from a part of the door, which housed a few other CDs as well, and inserted it. He flushed in embarrassment, remembering the looks the music store owners had given him while he was buying said CDs.

The sound of a palm meeting a face was heard as Sunny sighed to herself as Shampoo's "Trouble" played from the speakers.

“...Dad, you do realize that music is from the 1990s? Bit before my generation, I think.” Sunny replied flatly, a deadpan look on her face. Fowler laughed nervously to himself as he ejected the CD.

“Right… You were born in 2000,” he reminded himself. “So you wouldn’t have grown up on this music,” he continued before muttering to himself: “Thank God for that…”

“Listen, I know what you’re trying to do,” Sunny replied. “And I do admit I’m happy you’re trying to do it, but-”

“Who said I was trying to do anything?” Fowler replied, an inquisitive look on his face. “Just trying to interact with my daughter, that’s all,”

“Yeah, and make up for the rare time you spent with me when you were married to mom and not arguing with her,” Sunny replied. “I have to ask, did you marry her just so you could have me?”

“We loved each other… once,” Fowler admitted sadly, with a sigh and a shake of his head, thinking of happier times now long since lost. “But that was before our jobs got in the way. She was a school principal, and I’m a Special Agent for the United States Government. You can see the problem, right?”

“Yeah… I suppose.” his daughter admitted. She was honestly surprised that her dad hadn’t come to kick Cinch out of Crystal Prep himself alongside the district Superintendent. It honestly hurt her a little inside when she saw that he hadn’t come, -After all, he’d probably heard about what Cinch had pulled, and he really hated when children were put in danger- and sent Chrysalis along instead.

In reality, Fowler had actually thought of that, but he knew he was too close to the case for it to have been a good idea to show up in his ex’s office... It was his own daughter that Cinch had manipulated, and then when that poor Sparkle kid went full she-demon, nearly lost to an alternate dimension filled with magical prancing ponies of all things. May have sounded like something out of a bad comic book, but that was the cold hard truth.

In all honesty, and Fowler couldn’t believe he was admitting it, he didn’t know what he might have done had he shown up in person and met with Cinch face to face. Whatever might have happened, it wouldn’t have been a pretty sight and he might have wound up arrested for something. He had to ask himself if that happened, then where would he be with his daughter and their already fractured relationship?

“Something else wrong?” Sunny asked, noting how distracted Fowler seemed to be every time he passed another car, just taking a quick glance at who was driving it. “You’re looking at every car on the road, or more accurately their drivers.”

Fowler groaned to himself. She did inherit his brains and perception after all, so of course, she would have noticed that. “...Sorry, just trouble at work. Can’t tell you much, as most of this stuff’s classified obviously, but there’s this guy going about stealing cars and trucks and causing all sorts of chaos with them. The real nasty sort, you understand,”

“Yeah, I sorta do actually,” Sunny admitted, and her father looked towards her in surprise. “Sorry, just remembering something my friends were talking about at lunch earlier. Late last night, Indigo nearly got run down by this fancy Italian sports car… Gave us all a real scare.”

Fowler’s eyes widened. “This sports car… Wouldn’t happen to be mostly white, with red and dark purple detailing would it?” he asked worriedly, and Sunny noticed his nervousness.

“Dad, something wrong? Starting to feel like a police interrogation,” she replied nervously.

“Sorry… Sorry,” Fowler sighed as he rounded a corner. “Just that guy I mentioned? Remember him?” he asked and his daughter nodded.

“Yeah, I do, why?” she asked.

“The guy we’ve been tracking… He’s been known to use that car from time to time on his little joy rides, so to speak.”

“Yeah, joy ride’s one word for it…” Sunny whispered. “More like crazy-ass mass murder by car, as Indigo nearly experienced a real-life version of Christine had this old police car not come out of nowhere and saved her.”

Fowler’s eyes widened. He needed to talk to Prowl next time he went to the Autobase, as it was being called by his superiors. He didn’t want his daughter, or any of her friends getting involved in this little hunt of that bot’s.

“Sugarcoat’s asking an old classmate of hers to track down the license plates of the car, if that helps. See who it might have been.” Sunny continued, and Fowler looked at her sharply.

“No, I want you and your friends to stay out of this, this is far too dangerous for you.”

“Uh, dad, when someone nearly runs over one of my best friends, hard to keep my nose out of things,” Sunny replied. “Besides, call’s already been placed as it is. Just awaiting an answer from Twilight.”

Fowler groaned again as he pulled into his driveway. Of course, it would be Twilight that Sugarcoat would call. It would have to be her, wouldn’t it?
> Part 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



Canterlot High: Grounds

“Wait… Wait up!” Twilight shouted, her bookbag flying behind her, it’s shoulder straps barely holding together as she flew out the library doors in chase of the strange metal orange bird. Far too large to be any sort of condor or eagle, it still flapped its wings and made strange mechanical chirping sounds (Sounding almost like synthesizer beats and beeping sounds) as it flew in the sky above her.

Right now, it was hovering over the school’s entrance, and with another strange chirping sound, it landed atop the weather vane, perched atop it with two small gold talons reflected in the shining afternoon sun.

“What are you?” Twilight whispered to herself, as the bird tilted its head and looked at her in an almost inquisitive manner. It seemed to raise an eyebrow, like it was asking the same question. No, he was asking the same question. It had to be a he. Twilight didn’t quite know how she reached the conclusion, but she just got that feeling.

She knew nothing about that was scientific in any way, but this was something far beyond the realms of normal science, she knew that much. The bird let out another little squawk/beep as it flapped its wings again and took flight towards the still destroyed statue that hid the mirror portal to Equestria. It landed near the portal, and slowly walked towards it in seeming interest.

“Oh no…” Twilight whispered as she ran towards the bird and grabbed ahold of it to pull it back as it pecked at the portal. “You stay away from there, it’s dangerous!”

Of course, when she grabbed ahold of the bird, she realized just how big it exactly was. It was easily as large as her, from talon to head. Twilight’s jaw dropped as the bird turned to look at her, and his crimson shaded eyes -No, optics, she corrected herself- stared into her own violet ones. They seemingly assessed her, gauging her threat level. Twilight squeaked and took a step back letting go of the bird-bot in the process, quite frightened by now. Then, she stumbled and tripped backwards, falling on her behind in the process.

She, despite her fear, took notice of a rather friendly looking red robotic face emblem on the bird’s forehead.

It beeped out a message, and Twilight laughed nervously.

“Er… I’m sorry… I can’t quite understand you…” she admitted. The bird trodded over to her fallen book bag, and Twilight shuddered slightly in fear as he pulled out a notebook and a pencil very carefully from it with his beak and delicately sat them on the ground in front of them. Amazingly, no damage had been done to either item.

It beeped out a familiar message Twilight recognized.

“Wait a moment…” she whispered to herself as she began writing down the beeps on her notepad. “That… That… I know that phrase! That’s Morse Code!”

The bird nodded in approval and seemed to smile at her, letting out a series of cheerful beeps as it did so.

It then slowly let out another series of beeps, after Twilight took out a book from her backpack. One on codes, to be precise.

She slowly jotted down this series of beeps, deciphering the message as she did so.

“So, your name… Er, designation is Sunder, am I right?” the bookish girl asked trepidatiously, still quite cautious of the bird-bot. However, slowly, but surely, she was beginning to feel it meant no ill intent towards her.

“Sunder” let out a small beep that Twilight took as a yes.

Then, from behind her, Twilight heard footsteps and a familiar voice she’d come to love in recent months. “Hey Twilight, who’s your ne-OH MY GOD!”

Trixie, as she was known, suddenly let out a scream of fear as she saw what exactly her girlfriend was talking to. Which was perfectly understandable really. After all, considering if you saw your girlfriend talking to a giant metal condor the size of a human teenager, you’d freak out as well right?

Twilight quickly got up off the ground and put a hand over Trixie’s mouth, hissing “Shhh! You want to scare him?”

She turned to look at Sunder, who only looked confused by this, actually. He was tilting his head in interest once again and let out a series of confused beeps and whirs. Now that Twilight thought about it, the beeps and whirs sounded like that dubstep music she’d heard that Vinyl Scratch girl play so often from her car’s stereo.

“Now, I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth, and you’re going to calm down, alright?” Twilight whispered to her girlfriend.

Trixie, who let out a muffled “Uh-huh…” , nodded and then the hand was taken away.

“Okay,” Trixie said, placing her hands on her hips. “Where’d you find this thing? Did you make it?”

Sunder let out a series of rather loud offended beeps and whirs Twilight figured it best she not translate for Trixie, who was currently taking a few steps back. Maybe the translation wasn’t needed, as she seemed to get the gist of the statement.

“I… I don’t think he likes the idea of being created by a human, or that being even insinuated.” Twilight replied, and Sunder gave her a look that could only be described as “Duh”.

“Okay, so what is he then?” Trixie had to ask, gripping her hands to her guitar case tightly in fear.

“I… I think he’s alien…” Twilight trailed off, swallowing as all the pieces came together in her mind. He had to be, there was no other explanation. As if to confirm this hypothesis, Sunder’s eyes suddenly let out twin green beams that scanned Trixie’s Gibson Flying V guitar inside its case. After this happened, with the shifting of parts, Sunder turned into an exact copy of it, only in his colors.

“Alien… Y-yeah… Trixie will go along with that statement…” Trixie nodded nervously as she stared at the new instrument in front of her. Said instrument quickly changed back into his robot mode.

“Size displacement, transformation…” Twilight whispered, as she jotted down what she’d just seen in her notebook. “What the frak?”

“Not the word I’d use…” Trixie muttered. “Now… Er, don’t you think we should hide him before anyone else sees him?”

Sunder gave her a little smirk, before his form shimmered as little dots on his body lit up before he vanished from sight completely, camouflage with the environment.

“Okay, that’s kinda cool, I admit...” Trixie trailed off.

“...And Active Camouflage. Definitely alien.” her girlfriend sighed.

Unknown to them, all three organisms had been seen. Not by somebody, but a something. In the nearby parking lot, amongst a sea of other vehicles rested a teal blue Ford F-150 Raptor. In a small area on the brakes rested the Decepticon symbol, well out of sight from prying eyes. And that was just how its owner liked it.

He was a hunter through and through, after all. And what use was a hunter who could be easily spotted by his prey?

“Command Base, this is Steeljaw. I’ve found one of them,” his onboard comms system crackled, a very smooth and charismatic voice said. He sounded friendly enough, but make no mistake, he was wanted Decepticon for very good reason. “One of the Autobots is within my claws…”

“Which one?” a deeper voice rumbled. “Steeljaw, remember, although I let you enjoy your hunts with that… partner of yours of lack of a better term, I do not want either of you taking jobs beyond your ability.”

“Please, I know what I’m getting into when I do a job, you and I both know that. My partner? Hardly the term I’d use, especially when she knows I prefer to work alone,”

“Be that as it may, which one did you find?” the same voice from before asked again.

“Hardly something worth the hunt, just a small Predacon. Sunder, I think. That, and two fleshlings…” Steeljaw trailed off, hesitant for a moment. Hunting Autobots was one thing, but the humans? They weren’t even difficult to hunt, nor they even put up a fight before they went… squish. It gave the Decepticon uneasy feelings about hunting far too easy prey. It was like he was like he was a Corvicon hunting a Turbofox!

“Are you having doubts Steeljaw? I could just as easily send in Flich to take down this Predacon for you. She’d love the task…”

Steeljaw let out a low growl, sounding almost wolfish in tone.

“No, that birdbrain I call a partner will not be taking my prize. Small prize it may be, but her ego’s far too big already. This one’s mine. ...But, with your permission, I’d like to ask a request Commander Onslaught.”

“Which is?” Onslaught asked.

“That I capture, not kill, this one, and his two human companions. Take them in for questioning.”

“Then kill them after you’ve learned the location of the Autobot base?” Onslaught asked.

“...Something like that.” Steeljaw replied.

“You’re not growing soft on me are you dear Steeljaw? Remember… I own you. One flick of the switch and…”

Steeljaw growled again. “Yes, I know. I’ll just require two Vehicons with me to track them down. After all… Where there’s one Autobot…” he smirked. Steeljaw may have been a lone wolf, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to do this alone. If that bird called for help, he’d be overwhelmed very quickly.

“...There are bound to be many more,” Steeljaw’s commander finished for him. “Understood, you will receive your reinforcements shortly. Onslaught out.”







Lemon Zest’s House:

Lemon Zest’s room was abuzz with chatter from herself and her friends. Posted all around the walls of the room were promotional concerts of Lemon’s favorite bands and singers; most of which were more to her tastes than that of the other girls. Band posters like Metallica’s Kill ‘Em All, Iron Maiden’s The Trooper, AC/DC’s Who Made Who, Guns ‘n Roses’ Appetite for Destruction and the like. You get the picture.

Despite the number of posters coating the grey walls, the rest of the room was generally in good shape. There was a desk with a computer on top of it, a nightstand by the bed with a lamp on it, and clean carpets devoid of crumbs and dirt. There was also a window looking out towards the garden of her house, with a pair of silver handles that allowed her to seal and open it.

One last thing worth notice was the number of plushies on Lemon’s bed. The pile looked very out of place for how the rest of the room looked, but it suited her sweet and child-like personality quite well. Some of them looked unique, as if they had been tailor-made especially for her and her alone, with a pony version of herself as the centerpiece for this huggable pile of plushies.

In the corner of the room, alongside Trixie’s Gibson Flying V (Lemon could have sworn it hadn’t been orange and gold before...) rested Lemon’s own Dean ML next to an amplifier. A pair of headphones rested next to that.

Nearby, rested some half-finished pizzas in their boxes.

On a couch, nearby, was Twilight and Trixie in their PJs cuddled up under a blanket, with another half-finished pizza resting on a nearby table. Trixie suddenly let out a scream and hugged Twilight close as a chainsaw roared to life on a nearby TV.

Sitting down below, was Lemon, who looked up at Trixie and smirked.

“Who knew the Great and Powerful Trixie got scared so easily?” she teased. “Guess we should be calling you the Great and Cowardly Trixie now…” Lemon smirked.

Nearby, Sour Sweet facepalmed. “You idiot, you never go off into the woods alone! Are you this dumb, you freaking bimbo? All just to look for your boyfriend who your only date with was a quick one in the bushes!” she yelled before grumbling: “...Whore, she earned that.” to herself quietly.

Indigo, who was right next to her, took a few nervous steps away from her.

“W-Well, what would you do if you saw a girl ripped apart limb from limb right in front of you?” Trixie stammered out towards Lemon in response to her earlier jab. “I-I mean, Trixie sure as Hell wouldn’t be acting all calm and collected now would she?”

“Personally, I think if you couldn’t handle a slasher flick, you should have told us,” Sugarcoat remarked, in her usual blunt style, as she took a bite out of her pizza. “It’s not like you weren’t forewarned this was horror night…”

“Yeah, I suppose Trixie had that one coming…” the magician murmured to herself, snuggling closer to Twilight in the process.

Her girlfriend adjusted her glasses. “Personally, I think this movie is highly unrealistic. No one, not even someone after getting ripped apart by a chainsaw would spurt that much blood and gore,” she remarked, quite bored by the spectacle really. “Even if it did have it’s benefits...” Twilight thought to herself as Trixie cuddled closer and she wrapped an arm around her.

“Really, you have to take all the fun out of things Twilight?” Indigo asked, annoyed. “You’re missing the point of slasher films! The blood and gore, along with the cheesy acting is the point!”

“Yeah, I just prefer quality filmmaking, that’s all,” Twilight refuted. “Not… Well, whatever this is…”

“Yeah, I have to say, I’m taking Twilight’s side on this,” Sour put in. “Really, this whole film is built on stupid and just shock value. ...Oh, I remember when slasher films used to be good. Not just kids at campgrounds getting stalked by some guy in a mask for the umpteenth time...” she sighed to herself, her usual ponytailed hair just hanging loose and free.

“You two take the fun out of everything…” Indigo grumbled. Lemon smiled at her.

“Hey, they’re allowed to have their own opinions, aren’t they?” she asked. “Free country and all that…”

Outside a window, escaping all seven girls’ notice were three vehicles creeping up the street. One, the Ford F-150 Raptor AKA Steeljaw followed by two dark purple Cadillac Ciels. All the lights on them were turned off, weirdly enough. Probably so they could be even stealthier, or possibly more intimidating as they snuck up on their “prey”.

Inwardly, Steeljaw smirked to himself. “Oh, how I love the magic of social media, it made everything all the easier for me,” He thought. “I’ll give it to these humans, they make themselves so ridiculously easy to find it’s not even funny. Just a simple hacking of a facial recognition system on traffic cams by Filch, and then a quick run through of Facebook pages and status updates, and I was able to find out where this Twilight Sparkle and Trixie Lulamoon -Such odd names for creatures, really- were hanging tonight, as they say…” 

Shame though, this made the hunt far too easy. It was really rather boring, honestly. Took the fun out of everything. Like I said before, there was a reason he’d been branded a criminal back on his homeworld.

“Yeah, I suppose…” Indigo trailed off, before she noticed Sunny Flare’’s expression. She was in the back of the room, just sniffling to herself, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Indigo, with a concerned look on her face, walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, something wrong?” she asked.

“Sorry, just…” Sunny sniffled. “Just me and mom used to watch movies together every Friday night, rom-coms really. We each had a tub of ice-cream, the only time she actually ate the stuff actually. ...This, all of this, it’s just dredging up old memories, that's all.”

“I mean... We can do something else if you want, if this makes you feel sad. We can always do this another time.” Indigo suggested, kindly. She sighed to herself mentally, ever since her mother was kicked out of Crystal Prep, her friend hadn’t been quite the same.

Sunny shook her head. “No, no reason for me to keep you girls from having your fun... I'll just be in the kitchen, probably hoarding ice-cream like normal girls do when they're sad…”

But Indigo was having none of that nonsense. She shook her head. "Oh, come on. No need for that! We'll find something to do together," she replied. "There are many things we can do, I think. Sports, board games, video games, sports. I'm sure we could find something else to do.”

Sunny Flare chuckled weakly. “No offense, but I'm not as big of a sports nut as you are Indigo. You'd have better luck with Lemon on that front, know she likes rollerblading, just like you.”

Indigo smiled, least she got a laugh out of her friend. She had a point, she admitted she and Lemon went to the local skate park just for spots of late night rollerblading when nobody else was around. Their friends suspected they sometimes did more than that, -And Indigo admitted the idea was somewhat pleasing in thought- but honestly, she didn’t want to ruin things with her best friend.

“But seriously, we can do something else. It doesn't absolutely have to be sports related…” Indigo replied cheekily. She then tossed a wink at Sunny.

“Please, save your innuendos for Lemon…” her friend groaned. “Have some sense of class, please!”

“No no. That's not what I-” Indigo fumbled for words. “I meant we can play a board game or something! I-I wasn't suggesting... You were the one that took that as an innuendo, not me!”

Sunny smirked, and Indigo facepalmed. She realized she'd been had.

“You’re far too easy to tease, you know that right?” Sunny smirked.

“Least I got you smiling again…” Indigo smirked to herself before Lemon let out a shout.

“Hey, who wants to play some Far Cry 4 Multiplayer?” Lemon asked, holding up a pair of controllers.

A whirring sound came from Trixie’s guitar, drawing Indigo and Lemon’s attention.

“Hey, is it supposed to make that-” Lemon started.

“Oh no… No, no, no, no...” Twilight murmured to herself -Beginning to go into a full-fledged freakout- as the ‘guitar’ suddenly shifted forms and changed back into his condor mode. She’d been hoping to keep this a secret for as long as possible.

Sunder suddenly swiped one of the controllers from Lemon’s hands with one of his talons and smirked, almost as if to say… “You got game, girl? Bring it on.”

Lemon looked as if she was about to accept the challenge robot bird or no robot bird, when suddenly the entire front wall of her bedroom was blasted open and smoke filled the entire room. Coughing and wheezing, Lemon and the others stepped out into the front yard.

“Hey man, that was so not cool, I was just about to own this... “ Lemon trailed off as she saw Steeljaw and his two Vehicon companions began to shift forms.

“Oh my…” Sour whispered as two silver heads came into view, with a thin red line serving as the only eyes of the tri-barreled rifle holding vehicons. Steeljaw was much more menacing, and more animistic, possessing a wolfish face, and what looked to be a tail hanging from his backside. His hands were tipped with sharp wolverine-like claws. On his chest, which was mostly comprised of his vehicle mode’s front window was a familiar symbol only Indigo recognized.

“You gotta be friggin’ kidding me!” she thought to herself, eyes widening in horror.

“Now then…” the Decepticon asked. “Twilight Sparkle and Trixie was it? Give up the Predacon, and I’ll spare your meager lives…”
> Part 4: Welcome to the Jungle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



Maine: Canterlot: Lemon Zest’s House

Chuckling lowly to himself at some joke that was probably funny only to him, Steeljaw advanced. His claws were like razors, and his teeth like swords. Indigo, for all her courage, had to admit she was scared. Seeing claws and teeth that sharp on a robot, just felt… unnatural in some way to her.

The drones behind Steeljaw continued to chuckle, as their blood red visors seemed to look right into the Shadowbolts’ souls. And just looking into those visors, it was like looking into the void.

“Twilight, what have you and your new bird-bot friend dragged Trixie into?” Trixie squeaked in fear.

“Oh, so that’s who I have to thank for helping me find Sunder here…” Steeljaw lied already knowing who they were, a faux-friendly tone in his voice. “Really, I must give a huge thank you, and to human social media for allowing me to find him so easily,” he continued, dropping the liar act and actually being honest for a change. “Now, just hand him over, and no-one has to get hurt. I don’t like hurting fleshlings, honestly, I don’t. Cybertronians are one thing, but you… Well, I honestly don’t like lesser species getting caught up in my hunts…”

“Excuse me?” Lemon snapped, really rather offended by that remark. “Lesser species?”

“Well, when you think about it…” Sour Sweet said, turning to Lemon. “He does have a point. Now, forgive me for sounding like Sugarcoat here, but-”

“Considering we’re probably about to be mauled to death by an alien robot, I’ll take any form of flattery I can get,” Sugarcoat said bluntly.

“...As I was saying, we probably are lesser species to him. Look at us, we’ve barely accomplished space travel, and from what we’ve seen so far, if Sunder is any indication of this robot’s species, then we’re probably ants to him,”

“Well, at least you’re polite, so you’ve got that going for you,” Steeljaw admitted.

“Still, would be nice to know the name of who’s trying to kill us.” Sour Sweet continued.

“Well, not many bots, or people in your case, ever have the decency to ask me that question. Call it a fit of narcissism on my part for being flattered at you being so polite to request my name, but they call me Steeljaw.” the Predacon turned Predacon Hunter said, flashing them a fanged grin to emphasize his point.

“Y-Yeah, I see what you mean…” Sour Sweet stuttered out.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lemon snapped. “We should be running for our lives!”

But Trixie, for all her arrogance, had actually figured out Sour’s plan. She’d noted Sunny going for her phone behind her back -Something which had conveniently escaped Steeljaw and his two flunkies’ notice- and smirked to herself. “Yeah, that’s right. Now, keep him talking Sour… Doubtful, unless we sprint for it, and for all we know cell phone towers have been jammed so calls could be out of the question anyways, Sunny would be unable to call for help. But a simple text, now that’s another matter Trixie thinks.”

“But enough flattery and idle chit-chat. Time for that bird to have his feathers plucked!” Steeljaw snarled as he slowly strode forwards claws extended, but suddenly he was cut off by a loud blast of sound as Sunder landed in front of the girls and extended his wings, revealing speakers in them. Blast after blast of dubstep music hit Steeljaw, and he stumbled back -simultaneously covering his audio receptors with his paws- from the sheer noise.

Sunder smirked, -looking as smug as it was possible for a robot bird- and then sampled a piece of the Kiss track “I Love it Loud”, with Gene Simmons singing the titular lyrics.

“Run for it!” Sunny shouted, having sent her dad a simple one-word message. That message?

“Help!”

“Hopefully he gets it, wherever he is…” Sunny thought to herself as Lemon kicked open the back fence’s gate and the group ran into her backyard and then began clambering up the back fence as Steeljaw and his cronies tried to recover their senses. With a thud, Lemon and company’s butts hit the dirt path in the alleyway behind and they continued running for it. They thought that, by sticking to the darkened alleyways and slinking in whatever gaps and crevices they could find, that they would be safe. But even they knew that Steeljaw and his cronies would be hunting them down, and would even turn the city alight with blaster fire to get to them.

Sunder wasn’t far behind, soaring right over their heads. The roars of his jets blew a bunch of discarded papers and wrappers around, and even played havoc with the girls’ hairstyles. Even though the winds of his slipstream slowly died down, the girls still felt knocked off of their feet by it

“Damn, Twilight, I don’t know where you found that buddy of yours, but he’s cool in so many ways!” Lemon complimented, and Sunder winked at her with one red eye.

They rounded another corner and came to a heavily shaded park, panting and sweating as they tried to catch their breath. The trees there were sturdy, but against a Decepticon, they would stand no chance. There was a small fountain in the center of the park, with a water feature spewing a steady stream skywards. A few flower fields spread across the park too, but the variations of flowers left much to be desired in certain places.

“Oh, dad’s going to be so pissed when she sees what happened to the front of the house… He just finished repainting it!” Lemon trailed off. Indigo stared at her.

“Really, that’s your biggest concern right now?” she asked, her mouth ajar. “Killer robots, and your biggest concern is how mad your dad is going to be?”

“Speaking of dads, wonder if Sunny’s got the message?” Sugarcoat asked, and everyone else looked at her. She adjusted her glasses and raised an eyebrow. “What, don’t tell me any of you didn’t notice her texting her dad behind her back while Sour kept Steeljaw talking?”

“W-Well, to be fair, we were all sorta worried about Steeljaw and his two henchmen… Sorry, henchbots at the time…” Twilight stuttered out.

“For the record, Trixie noticed.” her girlfriend added, raising her hand. “...Just for what it’s worth, putting my two cents in there,”

“Can’t see how Sunny’s dad could help us now…” Indigo trailed off, and just as Sugarcoat was about to say something, Sunny herself spoke up.

“He’s a retired Army Ranger, so I’d think he’s still got some contacts within the government and probably could send a whole squadron of fighter jets down to missile that wolfbot into the scrapheap,” she replied, a tone of admiration present in her voice. “Might be a bit out of shape, but that doesn’t mean he can’t help somehow…”

“Yeah, and right now, we need all the help we can get…” Lemon trailed off, and as if to cement that, a truck’s horn was heard honking along with the roar of an engine as Steeljaw in his vehicle mode smashed through some trees and quickly transformed back to bot mode. The girls’ eyes widened, and they took a quick look to the left to see the two Vehicons in car mode coming down the street.

“Oh, so we’re playing a human game now is it?” Steeljaw snarled, quite irritated by the way things had gone, audio receptors still ringing. Inwardly, he was quite impressed, he’d never expected the hunt to last this long, for him to actually face this form of resistance. “Well, let me introduce you to the Decepticon version. Hide and go shriek!” He laughed, picking up Twilight in his claws and looking her dead in the eyes.

“Clever little bitch,” he remarked. “Finding a Predacon with abilities like those for your bodyguard.”

“I-I swear, I just stumbled upon him!” Twilight stuttered out in fear. “Happy accident, and all that!”

“Let my girlfriend go, wolfy!” Trixie shouted in fear, despite knowing perfectly well there was little she could do at the moment.

Sunder swooped in, and tried to blast Steeljaw with waves of sound once again, but he was having none of that.

“Oh no, we’re not having the same trick done twice…” He muttered, and threw a small metal disk which quickly captured the Predacon in a web of energy. Sunder squawked, and tried as hard as he could to break free. Sadly, it was all for nothing really. Steeljaw chuckled, and smirked. “Oh, don’t think you’ll be getting free of that anytime soon, little bird, as it’s made specifically to capture Predacons. Attuned to your specific type of body signature. Try and free yourself, and-”

KER-ZAP!

Sunder suddenly found himself pumped full of electricity and he shrieked out in pain as the two Vehicons pulled up, ready to transform to bot mode if needed.

“That happens,” Steeljaw continued. “Now, credit where it’s due, I hadn’t expected the hunt to go on for this long, so I’ll be giving you all a quick death for defying me. I don’t like to hurt humans, but there has to be no witnesses in this particular case. I’m a Robot in Disguise, you see. Other humans may be sound asleep at this hour, I don’t know, but you seven… Sadly, you saw me and that means you have to go…”

He looked at Twilight, and then at the girls.

“Now, say goodbye to your friend here. It’ll be the last time you see her, till you join whatever version of the afterlife you have with her!” Steeljaw laughed, and Trixie stifled out a sob.

“Run!” Twilight shouted. “Save yourselves!”

“No, we’re Shadowbolts, and we stick together. No matter what,” Indigo said, walking forwards. “And if that means dying together, so be it.”

“And I’m your girlfriend Twilight, I love you,” Trixie said. “Now, until death do us part. Isn’t that the way it goes?”

“T-That’s not until the wedding…” Twilight laughed sadly, tears in her eyes.

“Well, I really must admire your comradery!” Steeljaw exclaimed, caught off-guard. Humans were herd animals, fleeing in any given direction at the first sign of danger. But these six… They were something else. “But now, it’s ov-”

Then, he heard the distinctive roar of a V8 engine and the sound of police sirens. His eyes widened, and then narrowed. Autobots…







Honestly, Prowl when he’d gotten Fowler’s message hadn’t been expecting anymore than his daughter getting stalked by some creeper in the night while walking home. It was disgusting to be sure, but he honestly hadn’t expected anything more dangerous than something human in nature. Other scenarios ran through his head, others less disturbing, like Sunny Flare getting mugged or just lost in the woods.

What he hadn’t been expecting to say the least was Decepticons threatening her and her group of friends. He cursed himself, he should have known that it was always a possibility, the Cons trying to get through to his team’s human allies through their family.

With that, he poured on the speed, as Steeljaw’s optics widened as he turned to look at Prowl’s oncoming form. Next thing the wolfbot knew was Prowl ramming him in the torsoplate at high speed.

Then, Prowl let out a quiet swear in Cybertronian as he saw a small form slip from Steeljaw’s grasp. His optics widened and he muttered “So much for our cover…” to himself as he engaged his transformation sequence.

Indigo’s eyes widened in abject shock as she saw the oncoming police car approach Steeljaw, and then seemingly fly and ram him in the chest. There was something… familiar about this car, like she’d seen it somewhere before, even if Indigo couldn’t place exactly where.

Then, she remembered as before her eyes, she saw parts beginning to shift and change. While she did that, keenly noted that this car had no driver and bore a marking similar to that of Sunder’s on the bumper of the car. Mind you, this marking bore what looked to be wings but it was basically the same symbol. She knew where she’d seen this “car” before, even if it’s form was different.

Red and blue lights were in the corner of Indigo’s eyes, and police sirens filled her ears. A black and white car came out of nowhere and slammed the mysterious Lamborghini in the side, sending it smacking into the wall of a building. Tires squealed, and smoke rose up as it took its leave, with the police car taking chase after it.

Indigo fell to her knees, and let out a little sob of relief, as sweat trailed down her face. Suddenly she wasn’t so cold anymore. As she picked herself up off the sidewalk, and started her long walk home, she would later realize one crucial detail about her savior.

It was an old Nissan Fairlady Z, something everyone knew wasn’t used as a police car in America…

“No, it can’t be…” Indigo whispered to herself as she saw a massive hand reach out and grab Twilight, with a gray plated face bearing a red chevron on its helm smiling at Twilight as it’s owner gently sat her down.

“It’s okay now, you’ll be alright,” the robot said kindly before his crystal blue optics narrowed as he turned back to look at Steeljaw. “Him, on the other hand…”

Said robot in question was picking himself off the ground, and letting out an animalistic snarl. He quickly tackled Prowl to the street, with a massive thud ringing out as both colossal forms hit the pavement, cracking it underneath their weight.

“So, going after humans now huh Steeljaw?” Prowl asked calmly as he tried to force the massive Decepticon off of him. His quarry chuckled.

“They were just in my way, that’s all,” Steeljaw replied in an equally calm tone of voice. “Just obstacles in the way of my real prize.”

Prowl’s optics then widened as he saw Sunder, in the electro-net, struggling and flailing about to get free. He let out shrieks of pain every time he was pumped full with more electricity. Prowl’s optics narrowed and he grabbed Steeljaw by the chest.

“You shall not have him, he’s an Autobot. One of our own!” Prowl snarled protectively. “Nor shall you harm those kids!” he declared. With that, he threw Steeljaw off of him, tossing him behind him as he did so.

“Maybe not…” Steeljaw growled, flexing his claws as he and Prowl picked themselves off the tarmac. “But the Vehicons? Well, now that’s another story…” he chuckled.

With that, the Vehicons gunned their engines and floored it, heading right for the Shadowbolts ready to run them down. Well, that was the plan anyways. Suddenly, one was blindsided by a pure red Corvette Stingray and sent flying off into the distance. An explosion was heard soon after, and a fireball rose high into the sky.

“Come on Con, you want to dance? Let’s dance!” Road Rage snarled out in challenge. She did a complete one-eighty, stirring up smoke as she did so as her tires squealed against the pavement. A blast of fire came from her mufflers and she floored it with the remaining Vehicon in hot pursuit.

“Savor the daylight. Because things are about to get rather dark…” Steeljaw growled out. With a roar, he then charged towards Prowl.

“Go, run!” Prowl shouted towards the girls as he braced himself for the hit. They took the message, and scattered. Well, almost all of them anyways. Twilight and Indigo ran towards Sunder.

“Not leaving you behind, not in the slightest,” Indigo said. “Saved our lives, so we owe you this much…”

Two things were felt then as Indigo and Twilight bore witness to Steeljaw rake his claws against Prowl’s chassis before the two began grappling for dominance against the other. Indigo, knew at that very moment that her whole life had just transformed into something else entirely, and that this was just the tip of the iceberg.

Twilight, on the other hand, got the distinct feeling that in some way, that this was all her fault...







Meanwhile, Road Rage had led the remaining Vehicon outside the suburbs of Canterlot, and into a chase through a woodland pass. Tall, lonely pines were on either side of the pass, and the full moon shown down. It was a rather beautiful, if not lonely road

The way that the moonlight shone down through the trees gave Road Rage the sense that the land was enchanted, though that was highly illogical given how this new planet worked. But even so, it wasn’t just the trees that gave her that feeling of fiction within fact. The road ahead, and even some sections of the horizon beyond it were illuminated by this twinkling silver ball in the sky, and it made the road she took feel all the more brighter.

There was a lake down by the bottom of the woods, which too was drinking in the light of the moon. The way that the water rippled and shimmered tranquilly in the darkness was somewhat soothing, the state of peacefulness being transmitted from one body to another. There were fishes that swam under the cover of the darkness, creating the aforementioned ripples. And they too barely disturbed the waters with how they nimbly glided through its’ small and almost miniscule waves.

All throughout her journey, Road Rage felt like this forest would be a true safe haven for her, so long as the Decepticons hadn’t followed her into it. Everything around her seemed inviting, welcoming her into a conflict-free twilight which would shelter her for the time being, just until she felt ready to leave and find her way back to the fight. However long it might have taken, one thing was for certain: Here, Road Rage felt like she was free, like she was alive. No longer chained to an endless cycle of battle.

That illusion was shattered when she heard the roar of the Vehicon’s engine behind her.

“Right… almost forgot about you,” she muttered to herself. The Vehicon whipped out its laser cannon, the weapon popping out of the side, and it fired blast after blast of purple energy.

Road Rage swerved to the left and right to avoid the shots, before she did another one-eighty turn and was now staring her opponent in the headlights.

Her V8 roared to life, and her tires squealed once more as she drove right towards the Con.

“She… She really isn’t going to…” the Vehicon thought to himself, but quickly realized Road Rage was deathly seriously as she continued driving towards him. “I need back-up, no-” the Vehicon started over the comms, before he was rammed head-on in the bumper, and he flipped end over end over Road Rage before landing behind her on his roof, and exploding in a large fireball.

Road Rage sighed, calming herself down some. The thing about her was, she had this little glitch in her operating systems. When she turned into her vehicle mode, she became a fire-breathing demon of the road, with little regard for anyone else sharing it. Naturally, it was a point of embarrassment for her, so none of the Autobots saw fit to bring it up.

She then saw a swirling vortex of energy open up and two more Vehicons along with a maroon Aston Martin -With grey detailing and bright yellow rims- drove out of it. Road Rage had to chuckle to herself, she knew only one con who paid that much attention to detail on his finish.

“Knock Out, should have known you’d pop up sooner or later,” she snorted in derision, her engine idling. “Still, surprised you’d pop up out of your lab and risk getting your precious finish… scratched.”

“Well, if it were up to me, I’d leave Steeljaw to rust… But, needs must,” Knock Out replied. “Now, we going to talk, or are we going to drive?”

“Well, in that case…” Road Rage replied, slightly flirtatious in tone although she sorta figured it wouldn’t really work on Knock Out given the way most suspected he swung. “Let’s dance.”

She floored it and drove right towards Knock Out, with the two Vehicons driving right towards her to protect her.

To everyone’s surprise, Road Rage lifted her right wheels off the ground and once she was past the cannon fodder sent to greet her, let them touch the pavement once more. She then flew past their boss, who quickly gave chase with the Vehicons following.

She poured on the speed, with the Vehicons opening fire with their blasters. Road Rage smirked as she saw them close in, and saw a turn that, past the guardrail, lay a steep drop. A plan began to form in her mind and she slammed hard on the brakes and let the two speed past her.

Knock Out’s optics widened as he figured out what was about to happen.

“No, no, you fools! She’s just going to-” he shouted, but to no avail, as the Vehicons couldn’t hit the brakes fast enough and went over the side.

With a sigh of disgust, he soon found himself forced into the side of a guardrail and sparks flew as metal ground against metal.

“No, not my finish!” He shrieked out in fury, before quickly transforming to robot mode and blocking the path in front of Road Rage, with very visible scratches all over his body. The doors had especially prominent damage. He snarled as he pulled out a long staff with an electric tipped prong. “You scratch my body, I scratch yours…” he growled out as Road Rage took her robot form.

“We’ll see…” Road Rage said as she pulled out a sword and switched the radio over to the oldies station and a song began to play...
"How lucky can one guy be?
I kissed her and she kissed me
Like the fella once said
"Ain't that a kick in the head?"

Weapons met, and sparks flew once more as metal ground up against metal again. Knock Out kicked Road Rage in the chest plate before he lunged out with his staff, and filled her body with volt after volt of pure electricity.

Road Rage fell to the ground, her whole body aching in pain before she was knocked backwards by a kick to the faceplate.

“Little maneuver I like to call the shock and drop,” he smirked, but it was quickly wiped off when Road Rage quickly recovered and launched a kick to his face sending him staggering backwards before she scored several swings of her sword, drawing Energon, blue droplets hitting the grass beneath her and forming small pools as they moved up the hill and into the forest.

Knock Out, further ticked off by this damage to his finish, slashed Road Rage across the chest with a saw blade that he’d swapped one of his hands out for, drawing some energon of his own. Road Rage staggered back when Knock Out switched back to his fists and scored a right cross to her face, sending the sword flying from her grip. It impaled itself in the ground nearby after flipping in the air several times.

“While I normally find fisticuffs beneath me, I will not hesitate to defend myself!” Knock Out remarked as he swung again but Road Rage caught the fist and kneed the Decepticon in the stomach.

He growled again, and switched out his right hand for his saw blade again and swung over and over. But Road Rage smirked, and dodged these strikes easily. She could sense her opponent was getting frustrated, and starting to make mistakes. She scored a haymaker to Knock Out’s faceplates, and he loosened his grip on his staff.

“You know how long that’s going to take to buff out?” Knock Out exclaimed, before his optics widened and he let out a small “Uh-oh…” when he saw his staff in Road Rage’s grasp. She swung it above her head several times, before hitting Knock Out right in the chest with the prod end, doing the same to him as he did to her before he found the staff plunged into his chest, just barely missing his spark. He staggered back, resting himself up against a tree.

“Huh, shock and drop. I see the appeal.” Road Rage quipped.

His body aching from exhaustion, Knock Out sighed and pulled the staff out of his torso with no small amounts of pain and energon leakage. He smirked when he heard a distinct screeching sound. He looked up, and saw a dark blue -With orange accents- winged form cutting through the night sky, and illuminated by the moon’s backdrop.

“Well, Autobot…” He said in mock-surrender as a Ground-Bridge opened up behind him and he slowly started walking back into it. “I give into the victor, but one piece of advice for the future… Look behind you!” he shouted as he ran into the Ground-Bridge and something blindsided Road Rage and tackled her to the ground. She found herself fending of the beak of a giant metallic hippogriff, with the Decepticon sigal on his forehead.  It raised a claw, ready to strike.

Suddenly, a white and blue form covered in camouflage detailing blindsided the hippogriff themed Predacon and one hand shifted to become a giant hammer which hit the Predacon in the side of his skull.

Another hand helped Road Rage up off the ground.

“Thanks,” she told her savior, but both of their optics widened when they saw the Predacon -Darksteel, if Road Rage remembered correctly- began to charge up a blast of flame. His neck began to glow orange, and that heat traveled all the way up to his beak before a wall of flame came shooting towards them.

Quickly, the newcomer threw up a light blue energy shield with a device on his forearm to block the flames before changing one of his arms into a blaster, and with a few quick shots, sent Darksteel into retreat and into a Ground-Bridge of his own.

“Come, we’ve overstayed our welcome. Just got word from Prowl, Steeljaw’s been sent into retreat.” the second newcomer Cybertronian said. Swordbreaker, if Road Rage remembered the crew manifests correctly.

“Yeah, it’s not him I’m worried about…” Road Rage whispered, her mind drifting off towards the humans and Sunder...
> Part 5: Choices
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come, we’ve overstayed our welcome. Just got word from Prowl, Steeljaw’s been sent into retreat.” the second newcomer Cybertronian said. Swordbreaker, if Road Rage remembered the crew manifests correctly.

“Yeah, it’s not him I’m worried about…” Road Rage whispered, her mind drifting off towards the humans and Sunder...

A few moments before...

“So, going after humans now huh Steeljaw?” Prowl asked calmly as he tried to force the massive Decepticon off of him. His quarry chuckled.

“They were just in my way, that’s all,” Steeljaw replied in an equally calm tone of voice. “Just obstacles in the way of my real prize.”

Prowl’s optics then widened as he saw Sunder, in the electro-net, struggling and flailing about to get free. He let out shrieks of pain every time he was pumped full with more electricity. Prowl’s optics narrowed and he grabbed Steeljaw by the chest.

“You shall not have him, he’s an Autobot. One of our own!” Prowl snarled protectively. “Nor shall you harm those kids!” he declared. With that, he threw Steeljaw off of him, tossing him behind him as he did so.

“Maybe not…” Steeljaw growled, flexing his claws as he and Prowl picked themselves off the tarmac. “But the Vehicons? Well, now that’s another story…” he chuckled.

With that, the Vehicons gunned their engines and floored it, heading right for the Shadowbolts ready to run them down. Well, that was the plan anyways. Suddenly, one was blindsided by a pure red Corvette Stingray and sent flying off into the distance. An explosion was heard soon after, and a fireball rose high into the sky.

“Come on Con, you want to dance? Let’s dance!” Road Rage snarled out in challenge. She did a complete one-eighty, stirring up smoke as she did so as her tires squealed against the pavement. A blast of fire came from her mufflers and she floored it with the remaining Vehicon in hot pursuit.

“Savor the daylight. Because things are about to get rather dark…” Steeljaw growled out. With a roar, he then charged towards Prowl.

“Go, run!” Prowl shouted towards the girls as he braced himself for the hit. They took the message, and scattered. Well, almost all of them anyways. Twilight and Indigo ran towards Sunder.

“Not leaving you behind, not in the slightest,” Indigo said. “Saved our lives, so we owe you this much…”

Two things were felt then as Indigo and Twilight bore witness to Steeljaw rake his claws against Prowl’s chassis before the two began grappling for dominance against the other. Indigo, knew at that very moment that her whole life had just transformed into something else entirely, and that this was just the tip of the iceberg.

Twilight, on the other hand, got the distinct feeling that in some way, that this was all her fault. None of those thoughts running through the girls’ heads, of course, mattered to Prowl at the moment.

Right now, his only concern was the Decepticon known as Steeljaw. Ignoring the energon dripping from his torso plates -That, if he lived through this fight, could be dealt with later- Prowl set about the more pressing problem at hand.

That was, the Decepticon currently grappling him for dominance. Prowl broke out of the grapple by flashing the front headlights on his chest and Steeljaw shielded his optics with his hands to avoid permanent blindness. Taking advantage of this brief moment of confusion, Prowl opted for punching Steeljaw again and again. But the ‘Con was remarkably quick to recover and slashed Prowl again and again before his opponent had a chance to counter. Quick and brutal, that was his style. Animalistic as it was, it was brutally effective.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” the Decepticon taunted. “Think of this fight as a short, sharp lesson in not underestimating your opponent. Take one thing from this fight, if you wanted to win… You should fight as I do. Like a beast.”

Thanks to Steeljaw’s almost incredible speed and the fact that he currently had a hostage in Sunder and those girls, it was going to be almost impossible for Prowl to get the upper hand. Keyword, almost.

So, true to form Prowl set about what he was known for doing best. Subconsciously, he prioritized every bit of information available to him at the time.

Steeljaw. Sunder. The human girls. Road Rage. The Vehicons.

He removed Road Rage and the Vehicons from the equation entirely, he knew Road Rage was a fine Autobot in her own right -She hadn’t become a member of the Elite Guard and the personal bodyguard to an ambassador without very good reason after all- and so barring any unforeseen circumstances, she should be able to deal with the cannon fodder.

Of course, on the battlefield, unforeseen circumstances were all too often a common occurrence. Prowl knew you couldn’t plan for every aspect of how a battle would go. He was soundly knocked back to reality by a right cross from Steeljaw and then a powerful kick to the chest.

“Right…” he reminded himself. “Ignore Road Rage, for the time being, focus on your current problem. Analyze the situation, and deal with it in the best way possible.”

Observe. Prioritize, Analyze, React. Those were often Prowl’s internal thought processes. As of right now, he was on the react stage.

This was proven when he caught Steeljaw’s next punch and responded with one of his own, a powerful one to his faceplates sending the lupine Decepticon stumbling back. During this, Prowl noticed Steeljaw favored his left side, and when fighting, always left it open for attacks for the briefest of moments.

“Your arrogance blinds you Steeljaw,” Prowl said as he -predicting Steeljaw’s fast recovery- dodged to the left almost at once and pulled out his rifle and fired a few shots into Steeljaw as he lunged again. They were never intended to be fatal as Prowl aimed to capture the Decepticon, not kill, but they would still disable him. Groaning out in pain, Steeljaw fell to the concrete with a powerful crash. “Logically, you could theoretically beat me. However, by fighting like a beast, you allowed yourself openings,” Prowl commented. “Fast and dangerous, yes, I’ll give you that, but your fighting style grew predictable. Recover, then strike before your opponent has a chance to attack again. But you allowed yourself to grow arrogant. You exposed a blind spot in your defenses. That’s why you lost this fight. As you said, think of this as a short, sharp lesson,” he said in a definitive tone. But to his surprise, Steeljaw managed out a chuckle.

“You’re not the only one who’s arrogant…” the Decepticon laughed, a small smirk gracing his face. “For all your analysis, and logic, there was something you failed to consider,”

“Oh, and what’s that?” Prowl asked, eyebrow raised.

“...That I never came alone, I had a partner just like you did. I’ll admit, I never expected more Autobots to show up, but there’s always unexpected variables in any hunt.”

A roar of a jet engine was heard from above, and Prowl looked up to see a midnight blue form cutting through the darkened skies. An F-15 Eagle, with VTOL fans fitted to its wings. The jet’s parts quickly began to shift and change -As it fired twin missiles at Prowl- into a giant crow-like Predacon known as Filch.

As Prowl quickly dodged the oncoming missiles, Flich took her chance and grabbed Steeljaw with her talons before a blue-green swirling vortex of energy opened up and they flew through it.

Prowl cursed silently to himself, almost had him had that Corvicon partner of his not interfered.
“What was that you were saying about unforeseen circumstances Prowl?” the Autobot law enforcement officer asked himself with a wry chuckle. He then contacted the other soldier under his command he knew to be in the area.

“Swordbreaker, Steeljaw is no longer a threat,” he said over the comlink.

“I assume he’s been… apprehended?” the Bounty Hunter asked. As much as Prowl hated relying on a normally unsavory lot, he knew Swordbreaker was a trustworthy sort even if he didn’t care for either Autobot or Decepticon.

“If it were only that. He got away, with a little bit of help…” Prowl trailed off, a small growl in his tone. Swordbreaker sighed.

“That’s to be expected, when the going gets tough, the cowardly always flee. I’ll be heading to your location soon. Swordbreaker out.” he replied. Prowl nodded in understanding, before he turned off the commlink…







Now:

His attentions then turned to the humans, and Sunder. After all, right now, there were more important worries that needed attending to. Honestly, Prowl didn’t care at the moment they’d been exposed, nor was he worrying about the probable explosion from Fowler about both this and his daughter being put in the line of fire. In all honesty, Prowl had been expecting Sunny or one of her friends to stumble across them sooner or later. He’d been keeping tabs on them, just to alleviate Fowler’s worries, and he’d learned they were quite the intelligent and inquisitive bunch.

“Come on…” Twilight muttered, seemingly unfazed from her experience with Steeljaw-Through Prowl knew better, she was just hiding it for the time being most likely- and trying to get that electro-net off of Sunder, who she seemed to have struck up a friendship with if the Predacon’s concerned glances in her direction was any indication. “Getting you out of there Sunder, don’t worry…”

“Not by yourself, you’re not,” Prowl stated. “Steeljaw’s traps are state of the art. I’ll give him that, his Predacon Hunter tools are very good at what they do. Now… Twilight Sparkle is it?” he asked, looking down at her, and the human nodded.

“Okay, good,” Prowl smiled slightly. “You’re going to need my help if you’re going to get that thing off of Sunder,”

“Oh yeah?” Trixie piped up. “Why can’t you get it off yourself? This is your level of technology, and he’s your comrade I’m guessing so you do it! Trixie almost died tonight from Steeljaw and whatever his race is called, so way she figures it, she’s not sticking her neck out again for somebot they’re likely to go after again and put Trixie in their sights as well!” the stage magician snapped, and Prowl groaned to himself, getting a bit of a headache.

“I can see why Fowler thinks teenagers are such a pain in the aft…” Prowl thought to himself before sighing. “Listen, as much as I’d love to help out Sunder, I’m no minibot. See that little disk on the net? One right in the center of, where everything seems to come out from?” He asked, pointing towards Sunder’s restraints.

“Yeah, Trixie sees it,” she replied. “Why?”

“Open it up, both you and Twilight. You two are the only ones here about the right size to do it. Hurry now. I don’t want Sunder to be in any more pain than he already is,” Prowl directed.

Trixie, sharing a nod with Twilight, carefully pried open the disk to reveal a selection of multi-colored wires.

“Ah, Trixie sees the problem…” she continued. “You would be rather over-sized for this task, wouldn’t you?” she admitted. “Now, I assume it’s as simple as cut the red wire? That’s how it always is in the movies, isn’t it?”

“Trixie,” Twilight replied, rubbing her temples. “I highly doubt Steeljaw’s seen any of our films, and even if he has, I doubt he’d make the way of disabling his device so obvious. He strikes me as the type to be genre-savvy about these sort of things…” she trailed off in thought.

“Actually…” Prowl began -And if a robot could flush, Twilight would later swear Prowl did- and Twilight and Trixie stared at him.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Twilight muttered before she searched her pockets and sighed. Nope, no wire cutters or anything of the like. She flushed briefly, why’d she even think she’d even have such a thing on her? “Right, this isn’t going to be big on dignity, but here goes…”

Reaching out with her teeth, Twilight bit down on the wire and pulled hard as she could, before eventually it snapped in two and the electro-web dissipated, freeing her Predacon friend. He trilled in happiness and flapped his wings slightly before giving Twilight a thankful nibble to her hair, making her let out a small giggle.

Nearby, the rumble of two engines was heard as a military camo colored Toyota Tundra and the Corvette from before pulled up and transformed to the robot modes of Swordbreaker and Road Rage respectively.

“Vehicons scrapped?” Prowl asked at once, not wanting any running about loose and putting humans in danger.

“Yes, but…” Road Rage trailed off.

“But what?” Prowl inquired.

“It seems the Decepticon presence on this rock is larger than you led me to believe, and more dangerous,” Swordbreaker said. “I expect a larger payment.”

Prowl sighed and rubbed the equivalent of his temples, he couldn’t deal with that right now.

“We’ll talk later about that,” Prowl told him. “Now, Road Rage, as you were saying?”

“Yes, I managed to take care of the Vehicons, but as Swordbreaker here was beginning to explain, they had back-up. Some Predacon, and Knock Out. I dueled and tried to apprehend Knock-Out, but...” she trailed off.

Prowl’s optics widened slightly at the new information of yet another Predacon on the Decepticon side, and filed that information away for later. “But what?” he asked.

“My… condition took over slightly when I transformed, more than I was expecting,” Road Rage admitted in shame. “I was nearly overcome by it, and almost slagged Knock Out.”

Prowl nodded in understanding. “When we get back to base, we’ll have you looked over. See if we can halt the urge of it’s spread.”

“Sir,” Swordbreaker asked. “Should we really be discussing what I presume is top-secret information in front of the natives?”

He then gestured to Lemon Zest, who looked ready to burst from excitement.

“Okay… she began, visibly shaking. “That was awesome! Seriously, two giant robots going head to head like that? Badass, seriously badass!” she exclaimed, nearly squeeing while the Autobots looked on in confusion and bewilderment.

“Are all humans like this on your planet?” Swordbreaker had to ask, and Sugarcoat sighed to herself.

“No, just Lemon as far as I can tell,” the Crystal Prep student replied in her usual blunt manner of speaking before letting out a mutter of: “Thankfully…”

“Seriously,” Lemon continued. “You were like: “This ends here!” and he was like “Never!” she babbled in excitement while throwing a few punches and kicks at an invisible foe for good measure.

Indigo chuckled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

“Never change girl… Never change.” she smiled. Lemon was always the one to bring the excitement and perkiness to the group, never letting anyone stay down for even a moment. At first, back during Principal Cinch’s reign over CPA, Indigo had found it an annoyance, as all she wanted to do was be the best at playing soccer, and Lemon’s constant outbursts a distraction.

But now, honestly, she could safely say that she was grateful for having her around. She supposed it all started not too long ago, about a month before the fateful Friendship Games.

Indigo, with a snarl, punched a locker with a fist denting the metal slightly and swearing to herself quietly.

She never lost, never! And yet, somehow… Today, she did. All to that one rainbow haired girl from that boonie school CHS.

A simple mistake, that’s all it had to have been. She messed up somewhere. Yeah, that was it, Indigo thought to herself as she grabbed a wet towel and used it to wipe the sweat off her face.

As she wiped away the sweat and dirt from her face, she heard a very familiar voice along with the sound of rock and roll coming from nearby and groaned as she remembered it. Lemon Zest, of course.

Sure enough, as Indigo peeked her head outside the locker rooms, there was Lemon brazenly dancing to tunes, headphones over her ears and seemingly not caring if she got caught by anyone. Indigo chuckled, even if she found the girl an annoyance with the fact that she seemingly didn’t care if no one else wanted to listen to rock and roll at the same volume she did, she had to give her credit for sheer bravery.

It would have been all too easy for Principal Cinch to swoop down and take the headphones away, and throw Lemon in detention.

Speaking of Lemon, she finally took notice of Indigo staring at her.

“Oh, hey Indigo, want a listen?” Lemon asked.

“I’d rather not, thank you…” Indigo sighed, but her protests went ignored as Lemon pulled her in close and put one part of the headphones over Indigo’s ears. Almost at once, she was hit with a wall of sound and squealing guitars as Lemon did a air guitar solo.

“Man, Slash Monkey is the best!” Lemon exclaimed, seemingly not noticing -Or caring- as Indigo pried the headphones away, ears ringing. “Can’t believe they’re coming here! I mean, do you know how long I’ve been waiting to see them? Like, forever man! And I got tickets to see their only U.S. tour date!”

“Well, there's a shock,” Indigo deadpanned. “I mean, who doesn't love obscure Bulgarian shriek metal?"

“Boy, you seem to be down in the dumps today…” Lemon remarked. “C’mon, don’t tell me you’re letting that one loss get to you?”

Indigo’s small growl gave her all the answer she needed.

“Hey, like I said,” Lemon replied reassuringly. “Just one loss. What’s the thing about us Crystal Prep students?”

Indigo smirked.

“We never lose… And even if we do, we fight twice as harder next time.” she remarked, a new confidence filling her. She may have lost today, but next time would be different. That much she was sure of.

Lemon slapped her on the back. “That’s the spirit, girl! Now, next time skittles shows up, show her what we stand for as a school!”

Indigo smirked, and thought ahead to the upcoming Friendship Games. Oh, she would alright…

“Listen, if you don’t want us to know about all of this, promise we won’t blab a thing,” Indigo said. “First rule of super secret Robot Fight Club is don’t talk about super secret Robot Fight Club,”

Prowl chuckled. “If it were only so simple as for things to be a “Fight Club” as you put it,” he remarked.

“So what, you going to remove our memories like the characters do in the Men in Black movies with their Neuralyzer?” Trixie squeaked out nervously.

“Hardly, we’re not so… crude,” Prowl said. “Of course, obviously we can’t just live and let be. You know about us now. I have no doubts you won’t say a thing. After all, who’d believe you if you did?”

“...Got a point there.” Trixie admitted.

“But, we will be taking you back to our base for safe-keeping for the time being,” Prowl continued. “I don’t think the Decepticons would be so inclined to just live and let be with this defeat. Especially Steeljaw. So, because of that…”

Road Rage held up a hand to stop him.

“Hey, it’s their choice to make. Not ours. I say we let them make up their own minds. We can’t exactly force them to do what we want. We’re not tyrants,” she pointed out.

Prowl sighed to himself.

“Alright, fine,” he said, finally relenting. As much as he didn’t like the idea of the girls out there alone, Road Rage was right. They couldn’t force this choice on them. Reaching for a small panel on one of his arms, he pulled a holographic cell-phone number. “If you do decide to come to our base, call this number.”

Indigo nodded in understanding, as all three Autobots transformed and drove off into the night…







Canterlot Skate Park:

The next day, after classes let out for the afternoon, the whole group met up at the local skate park. Not Twilight’s ideal choice of venue, she had to admit, but it would do for the time being.

As she and the rest of the group from a picnic table watched Lemon Zest grind her skateboard up against a railing before doing an ollie onto a nearby half-pipe, Twilight frowned to herself.

“Hey, something wrong?” Trixie asked her girlfriend, whose eyes seemed to be just watching the sky and just drifting off into space. It wasn’t like her at all really, Twilight was always seemingly on-task and always focused on something. But right now…

“I… No, it’s nothing…” Twilight mumbled.

“Twilight, you’ve been acting like this since last night,” Trixie remarked before pointing to the math homework in front of her. “Seriously, you’ve been ignoring your own homework. That is so not like you. You’re… You’re starting to freak me out here.” she continued, in a worried tone of voice.

“It’s… Well, it’s just about last night,” Twilight murmured, and Trixie’s eyes widened in realization as she figured out what was keeping Twilight so distracted. “Can’t help but think some of it… No, all of it was my fault.”

Trixie looked at her in the eyes, giving her girlfriend a harsh look.

“Twilight, look at me, none of it was your fault, you understand?” she told her sternly. “Not one bit of it. All of it, it was on Steeljaw and his cronies, nobody else.”

“But… But if I hadn’t found Sunder, he wouldn’t have come after us…” Twilight trailed off. “We almost died that night, and so did he for that matter!”

“So, it was just a result of your curiosity getting the better of you,” Trixie shrugged. “The Twilight Sparkle I know, and fell in love with, she always wants to explore and learn new things, no matter what the risk! What was that old saying from that show you told me you and that babysitter of yours used to watch together?”

“Take chances, make mistakes,  get messy…” Twilight mumbled.

“That’s what you were doing right there!” Trixie exclaimed. “Taking a chance, and sure you may have made a mistake and got in a bit of a mess for it, or maybe you may not have. There was no way in Hell you could have known Steeljaw was going to come after you! Now, pull yourself together Twilight Sparkle!”

“Thank… Thank you, Trixie.” Twilight whispered, hugging her girlfriend.

“Hey, that’s what I’m here for. To slap some sense into you, when you need it,” Trixie replied with a slight smirk. “Not a complete bitch, you know. ...Despite what everyone else likes to think.” she joked.

As Lemon walked up, resting her Kamen Rider Gaim themed skateboard up against a tree, she pulled out a can of an energy drink, popping it open.

“Hey, so you guys decided yet?” Lemon asked, and everyone looked at her in confusion. “Aw come on, don’t tell me you guys have forgotten yet? Certain group of giant fighting robots we met last night? Hello?”

“...I hardly think we can forget that, Lemon,” Sugarcoat deadpanned. “It’s just… well, it’s not an easy decision really. I mean, if what we’ve seen so far of their power is correct, it’d be very easy for us to get killed if we got involved in their little war.”

“Yeah,” Sour seemingly agreed. “Except the problem is, we’re already involved as it is. I mean, chances are that Steeljaw bot won’t forget about us anytime soon. That’s one wolf who needs serious anger management control…”

“Yeah, look who’s talking…” Trixie deadpanned, and Indigo and Sugarcoat had to physically restrain Sour as she tried to reach across the table.

“What was that!?!” Sour snarled, before she sighed and remembered what her psychologist had told her. “Deep breaths… Deep breaths.” she reminded herself as she refrained from trying to strangle Trixie.

“I think we’re forgetting the important point here,” Sugarcoat said. “Something Sour just brought up, even if she didn’t realize it,”

“Oh, what’s that?” Sour asked, intrigued.

“Robots, with living thinking minds of their own, and by that logic, robots with emotions,” Sugarcoat stated, having realized the full extent of the Cybertronian similarity to humankind. “Robots, who can bleed. Robots…”

“Robots,” Indigo finished, swallowing nervously. “Who can… die.”

“Alright,” Lemon proclaimed, reaching for her phone. “That settles it! We’re going. Those big guys, they won’t be able to bail Sunder out every time. They need our help!”

And before anyone could raise a hand to stop her, (And later on, they’d realize they probably wouldn’t have, as they all shared the same feelings) she dialed the number Prowl had given on her phone.

“Hey, Prowl? This is Lemon Zest, we’ve made up our mind. We’re coming to the base.”

And not even an hour later, Swordbreaker in vehicle mode showed up, and his door opened with a gruff: “Get in.”
> Part 6: The Infodump Chapter
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Autobase: Ghastly Gorge

The roar of a .7 L V8 UR engine, putting out 381 brake horsepower rumbled through a man-made tunnel inside the canyon walls of the gorge. Metal plating surrounded Swordbreaker’s truck alternate mode on all sides, numerous and uncountable man-hours and US money spent just to keep tons of rock from fall inwards on humans and Autobots alike entering the base.

“Holy shit…” Indigo trailed off as her eyes widened upon what she saw next as Swordbreaker pulled into the base’s main room, where nuclear missiles once resided decades ago when Russia and America, along with the rest of the world were at arms with nervous and twitchy fingers on triggers.

As Swordbreaker pulled to a halt, tires screeching against the metal floor slightly, Indigo as she got out noted a giant version of the Autobot symbol below her.

“Wow… real subtle…” she muttered as she heard the shifting of mechanical parts from behind her as Swordbreaker transformed to robot mode. Massive footsteps echoed into the distance as he walked off.

“Well, God only knows where the heck we are, so I think it kinda works,” Sunny Flare stared down at the sigil on the ground. “Plus, who else is gonna come here besides us and these guys?” she asked. From a rafter high above them, Sunder beeped out a greeting in Morse Code.

“Point,” Trixie admitted as she gave Sunder a little wave which he returned with a wing. “...Plus, it is kinda awesome to look at.”

Nearby, on a massive table that was probably the Cybertronian version of a hospital bed, lay Road Rage in bot form with a small red microscope scanning every inch of her form.

“Well,” the “microscope” observed, speaking with a slight English accent. “Prowl was absolutely right to bring you to me. That virus in your system, it’s progressing at an exponential rate. Rather frightening, really.”

“Nngh…” Road Rage groaned as she tried to sit upright, the virus in her body halting some of her servos. “Quiznak. (Twilight nearly squeed when she heard that word, knowing exactly where it was from) You think there’s a fix for it?”

“That’s… that’s the thing,” Perceptor admitted sheepishly as he transformed into robot mode, shifting in size as he did so. “I’m actually not sure. I’ve never even seen anything like this in my entire lifetime. It’s a new thing, needs more study before I can administer a-” he continued before Road Rage growled at him and Perceptor held up his hands defensively.

“Wonderful... “ she muttered. “Absolutely positively slagging wonderful. Time, if you remember, isn’t exactly on my side here. Sooner or later, if you don’t find that cure, I’ll be as wild and uncontrollable as a fraggin’ Predacon!” she snapped, and a certain bird-bot whirred out in offense. It was impossible to translate exactly what Sunder said, but it was probably something rude.

“...Sorry, Sunder,” Road Rage flushed, forgetting who was in the room with her for a moment. “It’s just…”

“I understand Road Rage, I really do,” Perceptor replied. “I’ll be devoting all of the time and effort I can to finding a cure before it does happen and the virus takes you over completely.”

“Hey. Can we help?” Sugarcoat stepped forward towards the paralyzed Road Rage and her medic, Perceptor. “What kind of virus are we talking about here?”

“I honestly doubt you can…” Perceptor trailed off, before he saw Sugarcoat’s look and sighed.

“Just give me an answer. Biological virus or digital virus?” She pushed her glasses close to her face. The look that quelled many an idiot friend of hers.

“Fine… It’s a new kind, that’s for sure,” Perceptor continued, as if having new humans in the base hadn’t even registered with him. “It’s digital and biological at the same time, but unlike anything I’ve ever seen. What basically happens is, and nobody’s sure how Road Rage here even got it, is that this thing slowly creeps into vital systems and drives them into a sort of madness. A hate plague, if you will. When she transforms, she becomes a monstrosity on the road with very little care for anyone or anything, and this persists a little as we’ve now seen when she goes back into Robot Form.” he explained.

“A berserk serum for machines. How perplexing…” Sugarcoat approached Road Rage. “Usually, those kinds of things have been developed for humans only. How one has been made for machines, I’ll never know. Have you got a computer screen that shows her vitals?”

“Yes, I’ll bring it up. Here.” Perceptor replied, going over to a console screen, and bringing up a small holographic readout of Road Rage’s vitals.

Sugarcoat (Along with Twilight) examined the diagnosis from top to bottom, leaning in close to see if she could find any irregularities. After a few moments, she eventually found a pulsating purple spot deep within the recesses of Road Rage’s neck unit, with trace amounts of the same purple light trailing down her vines like a very thin thread.

“Biological and digital at the same time. How clever,” Sugarcoat remarked and Twilight gave her a look.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be admiring it Sugar…” Twilight trailed off. “Especially not in front of who it’s infected.”

Sugar had at least the decency to blush.

“Right, sorry…” she murmured before continuing. “Something that seems an impossibility is right there in front of us.” She tapped on the dot. “Perceptor? Have you managed to find this in your run-down of Road Rage?”

“Yes, one of the first things I noticed. That’s where the virus first started, near her Transformation Cog. Then it spread out the more Road Rage used it.” he replied. If he had glasses, Twilight imagined the scientist/medic would be adjusting or cleaning them.

“So what’s the cure for a duological disease?” Sugarcoat asked.

“Duological?” Twilight cocked an eyebrow.

“Biological and digital at the same time. Came up with it on the spot.” Sugar folded her arms smugly. Twilight sighed and shook her head, before rubbing her temples.

“Back on topic,” Perceptor continued. “That’s the thing, we’ve never seen anything remotely like this at all. Like I said, it’s new.”

“I can hear you three chattering away, you know!” Road Rage barked. “Just give me any good news you have.”

“That’s the thing,” Perceptor replied. “There is no “Good News”...” he trailed off, and at Road Rage’s death glare he flinched a little and sighed. “...At least for the moment. A cure will be found, we just need to study this a little more.”

“...Right, that’s what you’ve been saying for the last few cycles…” Road Rage muttered.

“But we know it’s dormant if she doesn’t transform, right?” Twilight lifted a hand. “As long as she stays in one form, it won’t trigger. Is that how this works?”

“Yes…” Perceptor said. “She can still go out on the battlefield, she just can’t transform. But even then, that presents a problem. Two actually. One, without a vehicle mode she can’t keep up with the faster Decepticons. Secondly... we’re supposed to be Robots in Disguise, not Robots of the Obvious.”

“...The Cons don’t seem to care for that rule, do they?” Road Rage deadpanned.

“Then—and I know this is gonna sound totally bad—but she’s a liability to have out on the field.” Lemon Zest said, but hung her head, taking no joy in saying it.

“Gee kid, thanks for the bluntness and no sugarcoating it…” Road Rage muttered.

“For the time being, I think it’d be best if you guys bench her, just until that virus gets fixed.” Indigo agreed. It was then Perceptor finally seemed to register the new humans in the base.

“...Wait, how many humans are we allowing into our fold again?” he asked himself before walking off muttering to himself about “Calculating for this new variable in the equation…”

Prowl rolled up, now in his newly scanned Ford Police Interceptor mode before transforming. His new robot mode looked very similar to his older one, but it had the obvious front bumper and hood of the Interceptor taking up his chest plate instead of his old form’s Nissan Fairlady Z vehicle mode parts.

“Looking good Prowl,” Road Rage complimented, groaning as she got up off the medical table. “New Alt Mode’s working for you sir. Hound said the new Holo-Drivers should be fully ready for their first field test soon.”

“And your… condition?” Prowl asked gently. Road Rage’s hanging of her head gave him all the answer he needed. He put a hand on one of her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Perceptor’s one of the best. He’ll find a cure soon.”

“Hah,” Road Rage laughed bitterly. “And Onslaught will just give himself up and renounce the Decepticon cause in the next week,” she replied, sarcasm filling her tone. It escaped her notice that Prowl had just shown a rare case of actual emotion and caring, instead of his usual cold, logical tone he often took with his troops.

“Er… bit lost here,” Trixie said, looking Prowl straight in the optics. “Autobots, Decepticons, Transformation Cogs? What the Hell is going on here, Trixie asks you. Mind filling in the gaps?”

“Okay, but this may require a bit of history,” Prowl replied. “Studied you high school kids, and I know how much you hate learning…”

Twilight looked ecstatic actually, forcing Prowl to amend his statement. “...Well, some of you anyways. It started 5 billion of your Earth years ago. During that time, Cybertron was divided up in a class system. What Alternate Mode you got, you earned your job relating to that. Some got to work in the Hells of the mines of Kaon, toiling away hour after hour seemingly without end.

“But there was one Cybertronian who was not having an inch of it,” Prowl continued. “His name was D-16, or as he soon began to call himself as he participated in dangerous gladiatorial arena matches… Megatronus, after one of the legendary Thirteen Primes of old who were some of the first to inhabit Cybertron and lay down the foundations of the modern day and the planet’s Golden Age. Megatronus, he won match after match, gaining support amongst the masses. In fact, as a gladiator, in killing others he began to appreciate the value of life if you could believe it, and in between matches he became something of an intellectual, debating the castes with other.

“This support allowed him to turn to the political side of things, and he soon made friends with a young archivist or librarian as you’d call it. That archivist’s name was Orion Pax. During this period, Cybertron, our home planet was in a time of great upheaval. Our current Prime, Sentinel Prime had just been assassinated and Civil War was breaking out. Even our best of the best, the Elite Guard, -of which me and Road Rage would eventually become members- was struggling to keep order. A new Prime was needed to bring things back to a state of calm.

“Megatronus, shortening his name to the more simple Megatron pleaded with Orion Pax to the Council to end the corruption and fighting in the streets that was plaguing the planet. But sadly, at the time at least, Megatron was too power-hungry and Orion was chosen instead. He became known as Optimus Prime. Megatron was furious, and his followers -Calling themselves the Decepticons- united half the planet and the war became ever bloodier with each passing year. He even got to a part of the Autobot Elite Guard, led by Onslaught at the time and corrupted Onslaught’s elite unit, the Combaticons and swayed them to his cause. Onslaught was corrupted by the most dangerous of your Seven Deadly Sins… Pride, and his Combaticons soon followed suit with each having their darker natures emerge. Lust, Greed, Wrath, Envy…

“Eventually however as the years passed,” Prowl continued. “Even Megatron, despite all the destruction he’d caused, began to see he’d lost sight of his true goals of uniting Cybertron and formed a peace treaty with his old friend Optimus and together, a new Golden Age was formed. All was well… for a brief while. Peace and exploration was the new status quo. But some, sadly, would not have it. Onslaught, along with several others including his Combaticons along with hardened criminals like Steeljaw fled Cybertron, and here we are, giving chase and tracking them down.”

“Hold on for a second,” Sunny Flare held up a hand, stopping Prowl in his tracks. “This is an awful lot to take in, you know. I couldn’t even make out half of what was going on for a few seconds there.”

“Well, I could,” Lemon nodded. “Megatron got mad that he couldn’t bring everyone together, so they totally went Transformers: Civil War on each other and decided to fight. But then, they decided to get all buddy-buddy again. Simple.”

“...That’s putting it in a very simple way of saying it, as things were far more complex than that, but whatever works…” Prowl murmured. “Now, to answer your question on Transformation Cogs… Trixie, was it?”

“That’s my name, don’t start wearing it out.” Trixie smirked.

Prowl muttered something along the lines of “Teenagers…” and sighed to himself. “Anyways, Transformation Cogs. They’re not just technology as you would think of us, but biology instead. They’re vital organs, and simply just can’t be built as you please if one wears out and replaced. No… The sad fact of the matter is for Road Rage, her T-Cog is infected and it’s dying as if were one of your organs like say a liver. Suppose you could say she’s got a form of cancer, I guess…” Prowl mused sorrowfully to himself.

Then there was a loud roar of “PROWL!” as the base’s elevator doors opened and a very familiar figure to Sunny and the Autobots alike stepped inside the base.

“Agent Fowler.” Prowl said politely, unfazed by the former Army Ranger’s rage.

“D-Dad?” Sunny whispered in shock. Fowler didn’t seem to notice his daughter or her friends, as his rage was solely directed on Prowl.

“Aw slag…” Road Rage muttered to herself.

“Do you know the amount of danger you put my dear Sunny in?” Fowler’s footsteps left small cracks in the bridge leading up to the girls and Prowl. His hands gripped a handrail tightly, barely keeping his composure “You and I know full well that humans die in one hit! How could you just let her out on the firing line like that?!”

“You think I don’t know the danger she was in? Why do you think I disregarded protocol like that, and had Road Rage and Swordbreaker rush to her and friends’ rescue not even bothering with our cover identities?” Prowl fired back. “I get that you care for your daughter, I understand that, but you’d be better off yelling at Steeljaw as he’s the one at fault here, not me! If your daughter hadn’t gotten the idea of texting you, we wouldn’t even know she was in danger!”

“Prowl, look, I’m just on edge, alright?” Fowler took a deep calming breath and stepped backwards. “Cinch is gone, and all I have left in my life is Sunny. Without her, I’d be completely heartbroken. So to have her in danger like that is something I’m not comfortable with. At all. Now, do you see?” He asked.

“Yes… Yes, I understand.” Prowl murmured as Twilight and Trixie stared at Sunny in shock, not realizing her father was a government agent nor was her mother Cinch of all people. “While Cybertronian family units are very different from your Earth families in many ways, in others they’re quite the same. If I was in your position, and my sparkling was all that was left of my family…” he trailed off.

“Fowler, lay off the guy a bit will you? Guy’s got enough on his plate without you yelling at him. Guy’s a cop, and his main concern should be catching the crooks. Let the other Bots worry ‘bout the kids eh?” a new voice chimed in, a little scratchy as a yellow-skinned woman with flaming hair and a vest with medals pinned all over it stepped into the room. Lemon and Indigo’s jaws dropped, and Lemon nearly let out a squee.

“You’re… You’re Spitfire, former Captain of the freaking Blue Angels for five years running! I had a poster up my wall of you once!” Lemon squealed, as said former Captain rested up against a railing in a casual manner.

Spitfire smirked as a chuckle came from beside her and Special Agent Chrysalis stepped out of the shadows. “Gee, bet you had some very “special” times to it as well…” Chrysalis remarked causing Lemon’s jaw to drop at her audacity and Spitfire to pinch the bridge of her nose in annoyance.

“Special Agent Chrysalis, a little decorum please?” Fowler asked.

“Very Special Agent Chrysalis. And relax Fowler, don’t get your panties in a twist, just having a bit of fun…” she teased, tracing a finger along his jawline causing him to blush quite red as Spitfire laughed her head off.

“Y-Yes, well, I-I…” Fowler stammered out and Spitfire only laughed harder.

“Is she always this… provocative?” Perceptor lifted one of his own eyebrows as he returned holding a datapad in his hands.

“You could say that…” Chrysalis smirked as she stared into the optics of the Autobots, seemingly sizing them up.

“In a word… Yes.” Spitfire deadpanned. Fowler meanwhile, was struggling to regain his composure, making Chrysalis chuckle to herself.

“So what are all you guys doing here anyways?” Sour asked. “Aside from sizing up everyone and laughing at Chrysalis’s antics.”

“Well,” Prowl began to explain. “Special Agent Fowler, Captain Spitfire, and Special Agent Chrysalis are here to help us maintain our covers here on Earth, and keep the general public at large unaware of us. Special Agent Chr-”

“Very!” Chrysalis chimed in.

Prowl sighed. “Very Special Agent Chrysalis, in particular, has been very helpful in forging fake IDs for our holo-drivers that Hound’s been working on.”

“...Mind you, she seems to have a little too much fun designing our human bodies I think.” Road Rage snarked.

“What can I say?” Chrysalis asked cheerfully. “I have a fine appreciation of the human body.”

“Too fine.” Fowler put in sounding rather annoyed and Chrysalis sighed.

“Oh, you’ll come around, they always do…” she trailed off.

“If I may continue?” Prowl asked, clearing his throat. When no objections were raised, he did. “Fowler, he keeps the Pentagon informed of our, and the Decepticons movements.”

Sour made a coughing sound that sounded suspiciously like “Babysitter…” to everyone’s ears.

“Meanwhile, Spitfire keeps an eye on the sky. She’s got connections in the military of her own, so any strange flyovers or such, she alerts us at once and we check it out,” Prowl continued. “Plus, her squadron is on beck and call if things ever were to get… Oh, how do you humans say it?”

“Hairy?” Trixie offered.

“Yes, that.” Prowl smiled. “Now, if you excuse me, I have important matters to attend to with Chrysalis and Spitfire. And quite honestly, I think you kids should get some rest, you’ve got school in the morning after all. I’ll have Hound and Swordbreaker drive you home.”

“I’ll be taking my daughter home,” Fowler put in. “In my own car. She and I… well needless to say we have things to talk about.”

“Oh boy…” Sunny sighed as she was led to her dad’s car. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation, to say the least.
> Part 7: Ancient History
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“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.”







Cybertron: The Sea of Rust:

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.
> Part 8: Howlback
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next scene of importance to our story, it takes place later that very same day at the home of one Special Agent Chrysalis. Well, actually by the time this scene takes place, dusk had long fallen over the streets of Canterlot and the moon was high in the sky.

Outside the little home nestled deep within the sprawl of suburbia -Being a Special Agent of the FBI didn’t pay as well as you might have expected- a certain cat-bot was on the prowl. Metallic fangs glinting in the low light, eyes a deep red, this was the same Decepticon that had been keeping an eye on Special Agent Fowler a few hours before.

Unlike the some of the other dimwits she had to work with, Howlback prided herself on her intelligence. She knew who Steeljaw had gone after once he’d found Sunder, and so she looked into any possible family relations of Sunny Flare’s through the magic of what the humans called the Internet, and more specifically social networking pages. Primus knew humans loved to talk about their social lives. What ailed them, who was breaking up with who, what movies they went to see and other such non-important gossips. However, unlike Steeljaw who wasn’t nearly as intelligent as he liked to think of himself, Howlback actually went as far as to see who Sunny Flare was related to, and that led her to Fowler. From there, she managed to actually hack into an FBI database from a computer and look at who he was generally associated within his line of work, learning who might have been helping the Autobots stay hidden.

Granted, it had taken a bit of work, and going through a lot of FBI firewalls but she’d found who who’d been assigned to the Autobot case, known as the MUETO (Massive Unidentified Extraterrestrial Organism) case in the files. Humans, as much as Howlback hated to admit it, were a lot smarter than she gave them credit for.

At least some of them anyways.

And apparently, they really loved acronyms.

Either way, Howlback’s search had led to her to Chrysalis, one of the three humans helping the Autobots and acting as their liaisons on Earth. She, being a government agent herself, had attracted Howlback’s interest. Most would think this to be a terrible thing, really, given the Decepticon’s reputation as one of those bots who was a master at striking fear into others. It was a very good tool during her time with the public safety unit of the government, shutting down insurgencies and the like. Actually, that was why she was here on Earth, but more on that later.

The particulars of Chrysalis’ personality, and what she did for a living (Redacted or not) attracted Howlback to her. Not in a sexual sense, but one of curiosity. She was a cat, after all. Or at least a mechanical one.

Back to Howlback’s role in the public safety forces and her reasons for being on Earth. Like I said, she was a lot smarter than the average member of Onslaught’s crew, and played the ice cold killer and stalker part very well. But in reality, the Cybertronian government at the request of Nova Prime himself had sent her in undercover as a mole within the ranks to get information on what Onslaught was doing, who he had with him, and to feed that information back to the Autobots if possible.

Hiding in the shrubbery in Chrysalis’ backyard, and being very careful not to make even the slightest noise, the jaguar watched what went on inside the house and waited for a chance to make her move and approach the agent and form a possible alliance. Currently, all was dark. That was fine, Howlback was a patient enough Con.

Meanwhile, inside the house, Chrysalis stirred in her sleep and looked at the currently nude form of the white-skinned woman beside her. A fine catch in her mind, and such a lovely woman to spend the night with. Quite remarkably intelligent as well, if not a bit tightly wound. Suppose one did get a lot of pent-up stress teaching a bunch of hormonal high-schoolers.

“Yes,” Chrysalis thought with a very satisfied smile. “A lot of pent-up stress.”

Running her fingers through the Principal’s hair, she kissed her on the nape of her neck and smiled a bit as the woman moaned a little in her sleep.

Chrysalis groaned as she realized she was feeling a bit parched, and threw off the covers before pulling an old and ratty t-shirt that was much too big for Chrysalis over herself as she headed towards the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. As she did so, she flicked on a light switch that illuminated the kitchen, which just so happened to be connected to the back porch via a sliding glass door.

Outside, as Chrysalis turned on the sink and let the water fill a small glass, Howlback smiled and moved forwards, the bushes ruffling as she did so. Chrysalis’ eyes widened as she heard the sound, and on instinct went for a cupboard and pulled out a small pistol before she carefully slid open the back door and pointed her weapon at the shrubbery. Hardly an intimidating sight, but hopefully the pistol would be enough to ward off any burglar who decided it would be stupid enough to rob the house of an FBI agent.

Mind you, what she hadn’t been counting on was a midnight blue jaguar to come out of the bushes and approach her with no sense of fear. Then again, why would it, given the rather large purple symbol adorning her -if the form was any indication- side.

Chrysalis’ eyes narrowed, and the jaguar actually seemed to laugh at that.

“I’m sorry,” Howlback chuckled darkly, speaking in some high-class accent that reminded Chrysalis of that Rarity girl. “But really, what could you do to me?”

“Well, if you were a male, or a female human, I’d put a strawberry in your mouth, take you up to my room, put this gun between your ribs, and tell him to sit tight, or I'd arrest them for stalking. Then I’d do it anyways.”

“...That is really sexy,” Howlback laughed. “But relax, you’ve got nothing to fear from me.”

“Hard to believe that coming from the words of a jaguar who actually does seem to be stalking me in the dead of night, with a Decepticon symbol on their side.” Chrysalis shot back.

“Fair point, but I can prove I’m not out to get you. Go on, give Special Agent Fowler a call,” Howlback remarked, and Chrysalis gave her a strange look. “Go on, go ahead and take your time. I’m a patient enough femme.”

Chrysalis gave Howlback an understandably cautious look, but all the same, backed into her home and grabbed her cell phone all the while never taking her eyes off the Con, who was currently stretching herself.

“Fowler,” Chrysalis said into the phone, keeping it on speaker. “Sorry for the late night wake-up call, as believe me I’m really not happy to be up at this time of night either, but I’ve got a robotic jaguar with the Decepticon symbol telling me to call you and prove her innocence.”

“Oh,” Fowler commented, sounding rather pissed off. “That might explain why I’m currently staring down a robotic wolf with the Predacon symbol in my living room!”

“Oh, is that Feral Steel?” Howlback asked in a rather cheery tone, getting up off the grass. “Tell him I said hello!”

“Oh, so that’s his name?” Fowler asked, still quite furious. Whether that could be chalked up to the unexpected intrusion of the Predacon kind, or the fact that he’d been woken up this late at night was uncertain at this juncture.

“William is it?” Howlback asked politely, and in a rather delicate tone.

“I wasn’t aware we were on a first name basis, ‘Con,” Fowler growled out.

“Yes, I’m rather sorry about Feral Steel. He never was one for manners, most Predacons aren’t I’m afraid. It’s all hack and slash to them. Admittedly, a few of them have complained about this to my bosses back on Cybertron, but it does them no good when they act this… shall we say unbecoming and unwelcoming?”

“Yes indeed,” Chrysalis thought. “She certainly reminds me of that Rarity kid, along with perhaps a little bit of Fowler’s daughter thrown in as well.” 

Now, a few years before, even since the “Giant winged she-demon mind control zombie incident’ for lack of a better term as the FBI called it at CHS, a few of their agents Chrysalis amongst them had been assigned to keep an eye on those kids who were involved with dealing with it. Personally, a large part of Chrysalis hated keeping tabs on teenagers like they were terrorists or something, -Perhaps a gross exaggeration of things, she admitted- but the other part of her that was loyal to the FBI told her that any potential threats must be monitored.

“Oh, so that’s what you call breaking down my door?” Fowler asked Howlback, who had to fight back and suppress a sigh. His night had started off like any other, have a beer and kick off his shoes to watch the game and try not to worry about his daughter so much before falling asleep on the couch. Of course, that sleep had been rather rudely interrupted by this wolf.

“Again, I apologize, not all Predacons are as well mannered as Sunder,” Howlback replied. “If I had known Feral Steel was going to be so… crude I wouldn’t have contacted him and instead have sent Sunder in his place so we can try and bolster relations.”

“That’s a laugh, coming from a Decepticon!” Fowler snarled. “You and your band have been trying to kill all of us ever since you crash landed on this planet!”

Howlback, and Chrysalis, of course, could understand Fowler’s wariness. He was a member of an organization trying to keep the US and now the world from falling to Onslaught’s heels. And more than that, he was a parent of a child now in Autobot hands. Granted, both Howlback and Chrysalis knew they would do everything in their power to keep humankind safe, as the Autobot creed went: “Freedom was the right of all sentient beings” but there was always that chance they could slip up. Humans were much more fragile than Cybertronians. One fired shot, one misstep, and that’d be the end of it.

“Sadly, yes, I admit that’s true. But Onslaught does not speak for all Decepticons, nor all Cybertronians for that matter.” Howlback replied, trying to defuse the situation.

“Oh, and you do?”

“Let her speak, William,” Chrysalis put in, in a warning tone. “While I highly doubt she’d set Feral on you, given her distaste for him, it would be wise for both of us to hear what she has to say.”

“Thank you,” Howlback replied, although Chrysalis shot her a warning look. It was clear, although she was willing to listen, she didn’t trust her one bit. Not that Howlback could blame her, admitting she worked for Onslaught did her no favors. Clearing her throat, the cat-bot continued. “Now, while I cannot claim to speak for all Decepticons or all Cybertronians as I’m hardly a Prime or anything close to it, I can tell you this much, I share your distaste for Onslaught. He’s a brute, and a rogue. I was sent undercover in his crew by my government to keep tabs on his doings, find out who was amongst his crew, and if possible, find out as much about them as possible and sent this information off to the proper authorities which in this situation would be Prowl and any high-ranking humans he trusted. Apparently, from what I’ve heard, you and Chrysalis here are some of them.”

“Very Special Agent Chrysalis.” the woman in question corrected. Howlback, of course, ignored her as she stared directly at the phone on the kitchen countertop.

Apparently, Howlback’s explanation caught Fowler off guard. “P-Prowl trusts me?” he stuttered out. “B-But why?”

“That I cannot know, but apparently he does if he’s willing to work with you. I’ve met him before, the man does not let others into his circle that easily. Perhaps he sees something in you I don’t, a loyalty to your government, and more accurately your species. I cannot say. Whatever the case, you would be wise to work with him, and trust him more.” Howlback replied, and out of the corner of her optics, she noticed Chrysalis was slowly beginning to lower her gun.

“I-I’ll try,” Fowler stuttered out. “But what proof do we have that we can trust you?”

“None, at the moment, I admit,” Howlback sighed. “But I will try and remedy that. For now, I’d like you and Chrysalis to have what information I’ve gathered on Onslaught and his crew so far. Vocal recordings, holotapes, and a crew manifesto. I’m somewhat aware of the fact that neither you nor the Autobots know the full list of former soldiers and various members of the criminal element that this poor excuse for a Cybertronian has with him.”

“Any information is good information…” Chrysalis sighed, as a small little vent on Howlback’s head opened up and revealed what looked to be the Cybertronian version of a flash drive.

“I have to ask,” Fowler remarked, his tone losing some of it’s edge now that Howlback had opened up and explained herself. “Why did you sent a Predacon to my house in the first place?”

“To guard you and your family of course,” Howlback answered simply as Chrysalis studied the little flash drive in her hands. “You of all people should well be well aware of how easily damaged humankind is. Granted, my choice of guard could have been better, but-”

“Say no more,” Fowler muttered, Feral Steel now having curled up in the corner of the room like a regular dog might do. “I do understand.”

“For the record Special Agent William Fowler,” Howlback replied, using his full title as a sign of respect. “On behalf of the Cybertronian race, I’m so sorry you and your family had to get caught up in this.”

For a long while, Fowler said nothing, before he answered. “...Thank you.”

With that, the call dropped. Howlback padded towards the door, and back to the shrubbery. “I suppose now I must take my leave, I’ve overstayed my welcome as it is. I have to get back to the wreck of the Darksyde, otherwise, Onslaught would get suspicious of my whereabouts. I’ve been gone far too long.”

“Wait,” Chrysalis said. “Can’t you at least tell us where this ‘Darksyde’ is? Perhaps I could get Agent Fowler to scramble up a few bombers, and-”

“Onslaught would know at once how you learned of his base’s location, and he would have your human pilots shot down before they could even do any damage. Nothing of value would be accomplished, and innocent lives would be lost. The cost would be too great, I believe it was your Joseph Stalin who once said: “A single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic.” That is not true. Every death, every life lost is a tragedy, and I intend to make sure that as many tragedies are averted as possible.”

With that, Howlback leaped off into the darkness leaving Chrysalis to think on her words.
> Part 9: Speed Metal
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Early that next morning on the backstreets of Canterlot, just a few hours before the sun was to rise over the sleepy town, several cars were to be found lining themselves up on a heavily forested road. Fast, expensive cars to be exact. Pagani Zondas, Nobles, Lamborghinis, I think you get the picture. From either side of the road, colorful red smoke was beginning to rise up. Both early in the morning, and late at night, street races had become a staple of Canterlot’s more privileged youth. Just kids who had nothing better to do, than throw their money away to get an adrenaline high with their fancy toys.

Of course, even in this menagerie of supercars, one did somehow manage to stick out from the rest. Might have been the fact that it was an Aston Martin, or maybe it was the paint job, a deep crimson red with bright yellow rims.

Whatever the case, as soon as ‘it’ pulled up, all heads turned to look at the car. The windows were a thick tinted color, so it was impossible to see who was driving. Whoever it was though, the driver let out a low whistle upon seeing his competition.

“Nice wheels, man. Sweet rims, as well, 17 gauge? You're reeeeeeal heavy-duty! Built for speed, I like that!” the driver commented from inside his car, eying the Zonda as he revved his engine.

“Hey, who are you anyways?” the driver of the Zonda asked. “Never saw you on the roster.”

“What, a guy can’t show up unannounced?” Knock Out asked. “Alright, you got me, I’m gate-crashing, but at least let a racer have his fun m’kay? It was a long drive to get here, and I’m going to be picking bugs out of my grill for days!”

“Ugh… fine. You’re in,” the driver grumbled. “Suppose you want my car if you win?”

“No, I’m just in it for the fun of it. Prizes don’t really matter to me, as long as I look good crossing the finish line. If you have this type of car, all op-Er, eyes are going to be on you anyways.” Knock Out replied, quickly catching himself and correcting his speech. He flashed back to a brief time on the Darksyde on it’s journey to Earth, where he had to explain himself to one of the flyers onboard about why he chose a car as his Alt-Mode.

“I’m sorry, but what’s wrong with my choice of alternate mode?” Knock Out complained to his cohort, a rather… incorrigible Decepticon known as Triggerhappy.

“Yes, right, you're one of those.” Triggerhappy grumbled, shaking his dark blue head, and running a hand down his dark crimson faceplates. Knock Out gave him a look.

“Come again?” the Stunticon asked, raising an eye-brow, and crossing his arms. He sighed inwardly, he knew of Triggerhappy’s reputation. He was a nut-ball, you used to get them in the Decepticon ranks from time to time. Apparently, if it was to be believed, it all stemmed from an incident in boot camp, where he was practicing firing while surfing on his hoverboard but apparently fell off and hit his head and suffered cranial processor damage in the fall. What did happen though, was he remained firing all the while and ended up shooting and disintegrating half-a-dozen other fellow Decepticons. Apparently, the camp commander was so impressed, he graduated Triggerhappy on the spot. Nobody else had figured out why this was a good idea, or figured out why it was an even better idea to actually arm the Con with his twin rifles.

“Honestly,” Triggerhappy proclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration, as a green coated Decepticon with a body-type similar to Shockwave passed them by, watching and shaking his head in bewilderment. “I never understood why any self-respecting Decepticon would choose an 'automobile' as his vehicle mode when he could have flight!”

“I like the way I look in steel-belted radials,” Knock Out replied simply. “I'm not only an automobile; I'm an automobile enthusiast, comes with the territory you know. Hello? Stunticon here!” he exclaimed, pointing to his brand mark on his chest. It was a normal Decepticon symbol, but with a hazard mark behind that making it resemble those markings you would often find on crash test dummies. Fitting really, give half of the team’s driving styles with no regard for the rules of the road. Knock Out liked to consider himself more refined than that, he really preferred his paint job unscratched thank you very much.

While the rest of the Stunticons had spent their life on Cybertron working away their crimes during the Great War in community service putting on stunt shows, Knock Out had never actually participated in the fighting and had no such troubles. Actually, for most of the war, he’d been a medic helping others on both sides and continued as such after the war ended. It was only after it had been ‘discovered’ that he’d been doing some rather unethical experiments on others did he fall in with Onslaught’s lot. So there he was, on a stolen ship bound for another planet fleeing from the Autobot brigade led by Prowl who’d been sent after him. His only comfort was that his sparkmate (Or Conjunx Endura as it was known) was onboard the ship was well and that the planet was known to have an advanced enough civilization that built cars.

“Right…” Triggerhappy muttered to himself, before walking off to his quarters still shaking his head. Knock Out huffed, rumors were probably true that he’d been dropped on his head, if he didn’t understand the fundamentals of looking quite fine and the feel of rubber against the open road.

But none of that really mattered now, as right now, the flags went down, and every car on the starting line sped off into the early morning light, tires squealing and engines roaring. Knock Out smiled as he switched to a local radio station, this was where he belonged.

“One foot on the brake and one on the gas, hey!
Well, there's too much traffic, I can't pass, no!
So I tried my best illegal move
Well, baby, black and white come and touched my groove again!

“Gonna write me up a 125
Post my face wanted dead or alive
Take my license, all that jive
I can't drive 55! Oh No!”







Crystal Prep:

Of course, as soon as school let out that next day, the Shadowbolts set off for their favorite meeting place, the skatepark in the middle of Canterlot.

As they walked down the steps from the Crystal Prep Academy, Sunny was soon greeted by a pure black husky-like dog (With a hint of wolf in him if you looked closely enough) bounding towards her as Twilight and Trixie walked up. Sunder, in his guitar form, was slung over Trixie’s back in a case while Twilight, as ever, had books under her arm.

“Girl, do you not ever have any books on you?” Indigo asked.

“Believe me, Trixie’s been asking the same thing ever since we started dating…” Trixie muttered to herself but wilted under Twilight’s glare. Lemon laughed quietly to herself and mimed cracking a whip.

Sugarcoat sighed to herself. Must her friend be so… crude? “So, what’s wrong with a few books?” she asked. “Might do you some good to start reading Indigo, would help you raise your grades.” Sugarcoat sniffed.

“Ooh, burn!” Lemon laughed, mimicking a small hissing noise. “Need some ice for that?”

“...I’ve been betrayed by my own best friend.” Indigo sighed, hanging her head.

“She’s got a point you know,” Twilight put in. “I mean, I could easily help you find something in a book that would help you with soccer, help you calculate the best angle for kicking the ball in a net,”

“No offense Twilight, but I’d rather figure out how to kick the ball in the net for myself, than learn from someone who’s probably never played a game in her life,” Indigo commented, crossing her arms.

“F-for your information, I did play a game of soccer!” Twilight sputtered out. Behind them, and going unnoticed by anyone was Knock Out in vehicle mode pulling up around a curb. “It was only one game mind you, but I did respectively well.”

“Funny, that’s not how Trixie remembers things,” the showmare teased. “I seem to remember Rainbow actually kicking your ass! Quite badly, I might add.”

As Twilight let out a small moan, and Indigo patted her on the back in sympathy, Knock Out sighed. Human teenagers, honestly he never quite exactly saw the reasoning behind Steeljaw, the big brute, ruling them an actual threat. “Then again,” he mused, as he looked at the guitar slung around Trixie’s back and the husky dog near Sunny’s side. “Maybe he’s onto something, if those Predacons deem them worthy of their protection.”

He wasn’t stupid, hologram or not, Feral couldn’t hide his distinctive life signatures from him. Deep down, underneath all that advanced stealth tech fitted onto him beat the Spark of a Predacon.

“Hey Sunny, I have to ask,” Trixie inquired curiously. “What’s with the dog?”

“Er, that’s the interesting thing,” Sunny Flare replied as she led her friends out of earshot of her fellow students. “He’s not a dog. Just happens to look like one.”

“Wait, you’re not saying he’s a…?” Sugarcoat asked, and seemingly in confirmation, Sunder beeped out a small yes.

“Apparently, last night, my dad had a visit from him, and so he decided to have Feral here,” Sunny continued, stroking the Predacon’s head. “Keep an eye on me. Normally I’d be mad, but-”

“But why not?” Trixie asked. “I thought you hated your dad being all overprotective of you and stuff!”

“Yes, but I decided to take a page out of Sugarcoat’s book as it were,” Sunny replied, as said girl beamed in pride at her friend. “And look at things logically. Most of the Autobots’s vehicle modes would… stand out as it were, and Road Rage can’t keep an eye on us because of her ‘condition’ so Feral here, who can make himself look like a regular dog and Sunder with his Guitar alt mode are the best choices,” Sunny continued with her friends following along with every word. “Unless more Autobots arrive on Earth, and get vehicle modes nobody would question, we’re stuck with these two for the time being. ...No offense.” she quickly told Feral and Sunder.

“Ah, I see. Makes sense,” Trixie agreed before she raised a finger. “On Autobots though, remind me to have them make alterations to our uniforms as it were. I don't care what Perceptor says, that armor chafes to no end!”

“Better uncomfortable, than dead,” Sugarcoat pointed out. “Besides, if what Perceptor is saying is true, and Lemon, you’re going to like this, that armor will help us help them in their battles.”

“How so?” Lemon asked, getting excited. And a little too close to Sugarcoat’s face for her own personal comfort.

“He didn’t say much on that part, except it was just a working theory at the moment.” Sugarcoat replied as she pushed Lemon away gently.

“Hey, a question?” Twilight asked as the group began walking to the local bus stop. “Perceptor did leave me some awfully cryptic clues when we last talked. Quoted a bit of Ronald Reagan, actually.”

“What made you think they were clues?” Indigo asked.

“The exact quotes he used,” Twilight replied, as a bus pulled up and the girls stepped inside with Feral following. If the driver took notice of him, he didn’t comment on him. Might have figured he was a service dog or something. “The first one was: “The most terrifying words in the English language are: I'm from the government and I'm here to help.” Exact quote.” she said.

“Anything else?” Sugarcoat asked curiously. “Hey, between one consistent Grade-A scoring student to another, maybe we can figure something out together.” she offered.

“Yes, he did mention that he seemed to be uncovering that at least some of the Decepticons onboard Onslaught’s ship weren’t as guilty as they were originally thought to be, from what he was beginning to figure out. Nothing concrete yet, but…” Twilight commented, before a thought occurred to her. “Hey, you don’t think…?”

“Yes, I do,” Sugarcoat replied. “That some higher up in his government wanted certain members of Onslaught’s crew to seem like criminals. Perceptor didn’t quote Richard Nixon at any point, did he by any chance?”

Twilight laughed a little at the historical reference, but shook her head. “No, he didn’t. Though if his theories are correct, along with ours, a certain quote from him would fit wouldn’t it?”

“Ugh, politics…” Lemon muttered. “The second oldest profession in the world, you want to know what it is? It’s the politician. On the outside, it's nothing really all that particularly special. You go out and help with managing your community and start pushing your agenda, whatever that may be. But once you really, and I mean really get into it, it's probably not that much different than the world's oldest profession.” she grumbled.

Trixie had to snigger at that, and even Twilight and Sugarcoat did as well despite usually not liking Lemon’s sense of humor. “She’s got a point, doesn’t she?” Trixie remarked. “When the girl’s right, she’s right.” she begrudgingly admitted.

Lemon smirked, and put in her earbuds before tuning her phone to Xiraia’s radio show.

“Hello all of you girls and guys out there, so nice to know you’re all listening. Now, picking up from last week, we’re continuing speculation on the strange set of meteors that came down outside Canterlot over two months ago. Now, could be nothing… But if you believe that, why the Hell are you listenin’ to me? Go and pretend you’re safe in your home, and lizard aliens haven’t landed in your own backyard and replaced Canterlot’s higher-ups!

“Anyways, for those of you not in the know, not too long ago, some scientists at the Canterlot Observatory, they sighted two strange meteors coming down right outside the city. One impacted in the canyons outside the town, while the other crash-landed in the mountains. I say crash landed, because despite all of head scientist Night Light’s comments that they are not spacecraft, I know better. Seriously, what else could they be? Asteroids?”

Here, Xiraia broke out into a sharp laugh. Lemon motioned for her friends to come over and put an earbud in Sunny Flare’s ear.

“You don’t think…?” Lemon asked.

“Oh, I more than think. We have to tell Prowl and the rest, we might just know the location of the Decepticon base!” Sunny said firmly, before bringing up her wrist and pulling back her sleeve revealing a small wrist mounted terminal. A gift, from Perceptor, to the girls. Apparently, someone at the Autobot base had a sense of humor, and had played Fallout. Sunny would just never have imagined it to be Perceptor of all Bots. Each of the group had one, part of their armor. Quickly, she typed in these words: “Have important info relating to Cons. Tell you later!”

With that, she quickly pulled her sleeve back forwards before anyone could notice. What none of them had seen, however, was Knock Out, still in vehicle mode, tailing them. He’d make his move eventually of course, but not for the time being. However, had he known what Sunny had just figured out, he probably would have been of a different mindset…







Eventually, Knock Out broke off the tail before anyone got suspicious. Anyone of course, being one of the girls or their Predacon protectors. Honestly, he still didn’t quite understand it. Predacons catered to no master, so why would two go to Onslaught’s side, especially when he had the known Predacon Hunters Steeljaw and Flamewar on his side?

Then again, maybe that giant oaf Darksteel and that shiny loving Corvicon Filch were afraid of Onslaught and his power. As he opened up a groundbridge back to base, Knock Out dismissed that thought as soon as it came.

It was ridiculous really, he’d heard rumors of Predaking’s power, and as powerful and cunning as the leader of the Combaticons was, even Onslaught was no match for the self-proclaimed King of Beasts. A title, which Knock Out swore was definitely deserved, considering he’d heard that Predaking had managed to keep up with the legendary Autobot leader Optimus Prime himself.

“Then again,” Knock Out thought as his wheels hit solid metal floor and he quickly transformed to robot mode. “There is that ‘ability’ of Onslaught’s.” 

An image flashed through his mind. No, a memory of back in the Great War. It was of a massive goliath of a robot with a frighteningly red crimson visor, whirling blades on one arm and a powerful flamethrower burning Decepticon and Autobot alike to a crisp.

He shuddered at the thought and tried to clear the images from his mind. That was a sight he hoped he never saw again in his lifetime. Combiners, they were a mad experiment of Shockwave’s, beginning with the Constructicons and just getting wilder from there. He’d even heard rumors Shockwave had been planning to clone Predacons that could form a gestalt known only as Abominus before the mad scientist was put down by a combined Autobot/Decepticon team, with Megatron himself personally blasting a hole in Shockwave’s chest after his ambition finally went too far.

Swallowing nervously, Knock Out waited for the doors that led to Onslaught’s personal chambers to open. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally opened to reveal an office, with a massive dark blue Decepticon with a red visor and two cannons resting on his back sitting behind a desk drawing up what looked to be battle plans on a datapad.

“So, am I correct?” Onslaught asked, as Knock Out bowed and forced himself to look anywhere but Onslaught’s optics, which he swore could peer into your very Spark chamber. His head was tilted upwards, and he soon found himself looking right at the Combaticon commander.

“Yes… Yes, you’re quite correct, the Predacons are indeed protecting those human girls as Steeljaw theorized.” Knock Out replied nervously, and if Onslaught was capable of smirking he would have.
> Part 10: Moments of Reflection
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, the Big Boss go and chew you out for not capturing those kids and the Predacons when you had the chance?” a very bored sounding tone commented from behind Knock Out, as he looked up from his workstation in the medical bay. Knock Out sighed to himself, just what he needed today. “Or worst still, scratch your finish?”

“You have any legitimate reason to come bother me today, or are you just going out of your way your way to be annoying, Steeljaw?” Knock Out drawled. “Because, if it’s the latter, you can kindly go and just bugger on off,”

“Just wanted to talk, wanted Con to wanted Con, that’s all,” the massive aqua Transformer replied in return, absentmindedly filing away at his claws. “Is that not an acceptable excuse?”

“Unlike you, Steeljaw,” Knock Out replied in a rather flat tone of voice, “I’ve only been framed for my crimes. You on the other hand, are a known serial killer. How many is it reckoned you’ve killed? 13? You’re pretty much the Cybertronian version of what the humans call the Night Stalker, only without the raping your victims part,”

“Yes, that is a bit classless,” Steeljaw admitted, and Knock Out blanched and stared directly at the madman. Steeljaw rolled his optics. “What? Don’t give me that look, even I have standards!”

“Doesn’t get you past that fact that you’re all too happy to kill someone even if they look at you the wrong way…” Knock Out muttered, flinching a little when he felt Steeljaw’s hands on his shoulder.

“I’m not a maniac,” Steeljaw reassured. “Those bots, they got what they had coming to them,” Steeljaw continued, and Knock Out gave him a disgusted look. However, had he been bothering to listen even closer, his audio receptors might have picked up Steeljaw mumbling: “At least, that’s what I thought at the time...”

“Keep making up excuses all you want, doesn’t change the fact that me, along with every other Con on this ship aside from the Boss and Flamewar are frightened enough of you to leak lubricant every time you even pass by,”

“Can we please kindly not mention that bitch? She makes even me look tasteful. Hell, she makes even Pharma look tasteful for crying out loud!” Steeljaw growled out.

“H-How do you know about Pharma?” Knock Out stuttered out in shock.

“I’m not as stupid as the United Cybertronian Government, for one,” Steeljaw remarked. “For the record, I’m truly sorry for what happened to you, got completely railroaded. You had a good thing going, patching up both bot and con alike until… Well, you know.”

“Yeah, I do…” Knock Out sighed sadly.

“How’s that old Earth saying go?” Steeljaw asked himself. “Oh yes, now I remember. We feel free when we escape—even if it be but from the frying pan into the fire,”

“Suppose you’re going to say, well into the fire then next right?” Knock Out asked.

“Look, not out to get you. Trust me, if I was, you’d be dead on the floor in a pool of your own Energon already. I’d have sliced you to ribbons before you could blink. You know what they say about the best criminals? The police, they only know about the guys who get caught. The best ones, they never do,”

“What does that make us then?” Knock Out asked with a bitter sounding laugh.

“What else, but the second best?” Steeljaw replied, and Knock Out laughed again.

“That’s quite true. Honestly, if I had a choice, I’d prefer Earth over Cybertron. Has this certain… Oh, I don’t know. What’s the phrase I’m looking for here?”

“Je ne sais quoi?” Steeljaw answered.

“Yes, that!” Knock Out replied, snapping his fingers in recognition. “Can’t quite put my finger on what exactly, but Earth, has this certain charm about it,”

“It’s the automobiles, isn’t it?” Steeljaw asked flatly. “Believe me, I’ve taken notice of your interest. ...So has everyone else on the ship actually. Triggerhappy, Primus rest his spark, made a-

“Remark about it? Yes, I noticed,” Knock Out replied flatly. “Mind you, I’m hardly mourning a nutball who’d shoot at anything that moves,” he deadpanned. “Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got to get back to my work,” Knock Out continued, gesturing to his operating table where a massive winged dark blue and yellow toned Predacon in his robot form -Darksteel to be exact- lay in a medically induced stasis lock. Knock Out wasn’t quite sure about what happened to him, though he had a feeling the electro-shock collar around his neck had something to do with it, the damned thing. Onslaught had thought it fit to place them around some of the more untrustworthy crewmembers just in case they got too out of hand. Steeljaw, Knock Out noted bore one as well.

“Oh yes, I apologize,” Steeljaw sighed, in a tone of sympathy towards Darksteel. “Even if I don’t like that dumb brute, even he doesn’t-”

“Go, now. I don’t like to be interrupted.” Knock Out said firmly, and Steeljaw took the hint and left the room. Knock Out sighed to himself, he perhaps would be forced to reevaluate his opinions on the Decepticon sometime soon. Perhaps. The sounds of feet hitting metal flooring filled his audio receptors, and the door opened once more. “Whoever it is, can’t you go away? Can’t you see I’m busy?” he asked, annoyed.

“What, too busy for even me?” a familiar, deep baritone voice asked. Knock Out smiled slightly, and turned to see a very familiar bone-white Stunticon, with a red face and yellow optics.

“Thought you didn’t like to come into my lab, the sight of another Con’s energon is… well, thought you saw it as more than a little bit eww shall we say?” Knock Out asked.

“Call it, concern. Or paranoia,” Breakdown replied. “Both can go hand in hand really,”

“That’s true, I suppose,” Knock Out admitted, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Saw Steeljaw entering your lab, and smiling as he left. With a Mech like him aboard, can you blame me for checking up on you to make sure you hadn’t been ripped from chassis to spark casing?”

“You would have felt it, as much as I appreciate the concern,” Knock Out replied, placing a hand on Breakdown’s torso plating. “We’re bonded, remember? If I go offline, you’d know.”

“Yeah, I would…” Breakdown admitted, hanging his head. “Can’t fault me for concern though, you know right?”

He was met with a kiss on the forehead.

“And I love you for that, but you know perfectly well I can handle myself, right?” Knock Out then asked, switching one of his hands out for a buzz saw for just a few seconds to make his point.

“Even if it means getting your precious paint job dinged up in the process, or worse?” Breakdown teased.

“Yes, even if it means my paint job gets damaged, Primus forbid,” Knock Out replied with a small shudder. “But Steeljaw, dangerous as he is, I can handle him. Oh, you and your worry, endearing as it is, is going to drive me insane one of these cycles. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a drink at Maccadam's Old Oil House right now. Makes that exceptionally pure oil…” Knock Out added wistfully.

“You remember the rumors right?” Breakdown asked curiously.

“Oh, the ones about Maccadam being one of the original Thirteen in disguise? Alchemist Prime, was it?” Knock Out replied with a small laugh. “Yes, I’ve heard. I swear, Cybertronians will think up the wildest things at times. If Maccadam was indeed one of the original Thirteen, I suspect he would have put a stop to the Great War all those ages ago with all of his wisdom,” Knock Out trailed off.

“Well, rumor has it that both Optimus Prime and Megatron met in the Oil House to create their treaty…” Breakdown trailed off.

“Bah!” Knock Out scoffed. “Bots have too much time on their hands if you ask me, if they’re thinking up ludicrous rumors that one of the members of the Thirteen is hanging out in a bar! I’d love to know who started that anyways,” he muttered to himself as he went for a tube to pump energon into Darksteel’s currently inert form. The former physician sighed to himself. “He’ll have to be kept on life support for a bit now, Onslaught was really displeased with his failure to capture those Autobots sent after him…”

“Yes, well, our dear leader has quite the temper,” Breakdown replied. “Likes to try and hide it, and for the most part he does it quite well, but where do you think Bruticus’s rage comes from whenever he was formed? Cold, calculating he may be, and quite the planner, but when all goes wrong, Primus only knows what’ll happen,” Breakdown shuddered. “And to think, we share the same ship with him!”

“Hey, we share the same ship with our comrade Dead End, amongst a bunch of other nutballs, Need I get started on Swindle or Brawl?”

“Point taken,” Breakdown admitted. “All we gotta do is stay out of Onslaught’s way, and our sparks are intact. Still, on Dead End, there may come a day when he’s not our partner anymore.”

“What, you thinking of leaving the Stunticons? Striking out on your own like I did?” Knock Out asked.

“Well, it’s a tempting thought. Personally, I want no part of this insanity,” Breakdown admitted.

“And yet you tried to run down that human girl,” Knock Out pointed out.

“Just wanted to give her a little scare, that’s all,” Breakdown replied. “In hindsight, had I known it would cause us so much trouble in the long run, I would have said, screw it, and just let her be! But back to Dead End. Just try and be nicer to him, okay? Er… for me? His mental state, he didn’t ask to turn out to be a Fatalist,”

“Sorry,” Knock Out apologized. “Just his constant rumblings about how everything is pointless as we’re eventually going to join the big scrap heap in the sky sometime soon, probably within the next few cycles or so, it annoys me to no end, that’s all. Did you know his happy place is an abandoned car wash of all places? And that the reason he polishes his vehicle mode and washes himself is so that he looks his best when Armageddon strikes and Unicron rises from his grave to kill all?” the Decepticon Doctor ranted.

“Well, he’s got a point there,” Breakdown remarked. “Nothing wrong with looking good, you of all bots should be able to sympathize with that right?”

“...Why is it you always end up winning our little marital spats?” Knock Out sighed, his shoulders slumping to the side. Breakdown patted him on the shoulder sympathetically, offering no answer. “Actually, going back to Maccadam’s, I think it was Spacewarp of all Cons who started the rumor.”

“Spacewarp, Spacewarp…” Breakdown mused. “Can’t say I remember the name, except for a few remarks about an interstellar explorer with a rather arrogant personality,”

“That’d be her,” Knock Out confirmed, snapping his fingers one more in recognition before he continued work on Darksteel’s beaten frame. As he did so, he continued speaking. “Heard this rumor, she went a planet called Equus or something like that a few years back in human time, and took this parrot creature under her wing, and since then they’ve been exploring the galaxy and it’s many wonders. Least what I heard, don’t quote me on that,”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Breakdown replied with a small smile. Knock Out shoved him away with a small, slight push.

“Now off with you, got serious body work to do here, and I can’t be disturbed!” Knock Out barked, and Breakdown nodded, saying nothing and walked right out leaving his husband to his work. Then, another bot walked in, tan in color and with dark purple optics.

“Hey Knock Out, I can sell you a better buffing brush, if you just trade me that buzzsaw implement of yours! Promise, I can make Onslaught look the other way...” Swindle chimed in. At this, Knock Out’s temper finally blew.

“OH FOR PRIMUS’S SAKE! HOW HARD IS IT FOR A CON TO GET WORK DONE AROUND HERE WITHOUT SOME SORT OF DISTURBANCE!?!”







Back at the Autobase, life continued as normal. Well, normal as it got for this rag-tag bunch of misfits anyways. Trixie, as she and Lemon played a video game on a TV nearby, watched in interest as Swerve and Hound argued over… something.

“No, I’m sorry, but that is the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard. I mean, seriously? You saw Prowl, in his office, singing or at least humming the theme from some old cop show drama?” Hound asked in disbelief, the Willys Jeep alt-moded Autobot shaking his head.

“Trust me, Hound. The jazz music he was playing commonly denotes a cop show,” Swerve lifted a finger. “And besides, how many TV shows have you seen where cops fight crime without the jazz music following them?”

“Fair point,” Hound admitted. “But you don’t have to be such a pain in the aft about it…”

“I’m not a pain in the aft. Am I?” He asked. “Or at least, have I been before this little dispute?”

“Let me ask every Autobot on the base, they’ll probably give me an answer,” Hound deadpanned.

“There is no need for that,” Sugarcoat walked up to both of the Bots. “Swerve was just delivering the honest truth. It’s highly illogical to argue with him on those factors. Though I will admit, the fact that such a battle-hungry Bot like Prowl would be singing something like that boggles the mind…”

“Great, she’s gone all Shockwave on us,” Hound muttered.

“Never a boring day…” Trixie mused to herself. Nearby, Sunder bleeped out something in agreement.

“See? She’s right!” Swerve put his hands on his hips. “So there’s no need for this hostility.”

Hound rolled his optics, before walking off, datapad in hand. Trixie hopped off from the couch, and walked over.

“Swerve, have to ask, what exactly do you do around here, aside from cracking jokes and delivering the latest gossip?”

“Training to fight on the field, along with a bit of metallurgy.” He nodded, only for his gun to start laughing to itself. “What?! It’s true!”

“Swerve, you couldn’t even hit one of your friends if you tried to,” said his gun, which was a stark white and resembled a little jet in some ways. “That’s why you have me, to say whether or not your shots hit anything at all.”

“T-Thank you Phaser!” Swerve stammered out. “Embarrass me in public, why don’t you! Sure, tell them all about my horrible aim that makes Misfire look good!”

“I thought the other bots would have taken notice by now,” Phaser sighed. “Maybe they need to take a look at their trainees more often,”

“They do, they just don’t have a lot of time on their hands right now to train me up proper, what with Onslaught’s little foray to Earth and all,” Swerve remarked. “Not to mention Road Rage’s… condition shall we say,” Swerve replied, making a point of being delicate about it.

“Speaking of which, Sugar, have Twilight and Perceptor managed to find a cure yet?” Lemon asked. “I’m starting to get worried about her…”

“Is it because she turns into a hot rod, or is it because you care for her?” Swerve asked. “Either way, they’re not making much progress, between the fact that this is a totally new thing to them, and trying to figure out who on Onslaught’s crew manifest is a criminal, and who isn’t,”

Sugarcoat gruffly crossed her arms. “If Principal Cinch were her, she would tell all of you to stop thinking those thoughts and focus on the task at hand,” She turned back to Lemon Zest, who had actually posed the question and was pending an answer. “But so far, we still aren’t making any progress. This is a very complex virus we’re dealing with,”

“Righhhtttt. And she’s such a great role model, Cinch,” Lemon drawled.

“She was our only role model before Cadence came in,” Sugarcoat rolled her eyes. “I know she was evil to the core, but we had to make do; especially if CPA made people into professionals ready for the world ahead.”

“Stripping us of our emotions and our freedom in the process,” Lemon deadpanned.

“How many times did you and Indigo try to prank and rebel before she shut you both down?” Sugarcoat asked. “I think my point stands firm, and that you were much too childish back in those days.”

“Not all of us have the capability to actually think like machines,” Lemon deadpanned, before remembering who was in the room. “...No offense, Swerve.”

The Autobot just waved her off dismissively.

“I swear, one of those days, I’m gonna have to punch Lemon Zest in the face…” Sugarcoat’s eye twitched.

“Heard that, and looking forward to the day you try! I’m a black belt, y’know!” Lemon chimed in before making some kung fu noises like she was Jackie Chan or someone.

“Some bunch of friends you are…” Swerve muttered.

“Girls! Stop it!” Hound barked, going into full drill sergeant mode and grabbed both Sugar and Lemon by the scruffs of their necks. “We’re supposed to save the world, not fight like babies,” He glared at both of them. “Now you can both behave, or we’ll just have to send you back to pre-school where you belong right about now. I bet Perceptor can come up with a weapon that’ll de-age you just for the purpose!”

“Yes, Sergeant Hound…” Both of the girls groaned and obeyed, being let down in the process.

“Good. Now get to work, or go have fun or whatever your human kids do,” He grumbled, rubbing his temples. “I swear, going to drive me into a migraine one of these days, mark my words. Teenagers. Like handling Sparklings at times. And I thought Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were bad enough…”

“They’re still devoted to the mission, and that’s why Nova Prime finds good work for them,” Swerve nodded.

“True enough. Now if only all our problems could be solved so easily,” he sighed sadly, looking down towards Feral Steel, who’d dropped his hologram and was walking about the base in his wolf mode, the spines on his back making him look particularly intimidating though anyone who ever met him knew this wasn’t the case and he’d hardly hurt a fly. “Shame about him. Damn shame,” Hound sighed.

“What happened to him?” Trixie asked, curiously.

“It’s a sad story really, burnt out his T-Cog from too much use of it,” Swerve sighed. “Least, what I heard. Reminds me of what happened to Tarn, now that I think of it. Mind you, that bastard at least deserved it,” he grumbled.

“Well, can’t you just repair it?” Trixie asked.

“Sadly, a Transformation Cog isn’t technology as you might think,” Hound put in. “It’s biology, in fact. It’s like one of your organs, you’d have to ask someone to donate another. As you can imagine, most Cybertronians aren’t exactly lining up to do such a thing,” he remarked with a bitter laugh.

“So, it’s kinda like your heart?” Trixie raised a brow. “And if it’s gone, then you’re gone too?”

“Well, it’s not that important. We can still function without a T-Cog, we just can’t transform,” Swerve replied. “And considering how important and ingrained transformation is in our culture…”

“It’s like you’ve completely been stripped of who you are… that’s sad.” Trixie’s face fell at the sound. “How can you live without the power to transform?”

“You’d be surprised, some parts of counterculture have sprouted up here and there,” Hound put in. “Like the hippie movement of your sixties, only with a different philosophy. They say we’ve become too reliant on our T-Cogs, and purposefully burn them out with all sorts of drugs,”

“How does that work?!” Trixie’s eyes shrunk down to pinpricks.

“Well, take a drug like Nuke. It’s really addictive, and basically makes you become a mindless beast. Tarn, leader of the infamous Decepticon Justice Division was quite fond of it, and overused it to the point, where as Swerve mentioned, burnt out his T-Cog,” Hound explained. “Doubt that’s what’s going on with these countercultures, just citing an example,” he rapidly explained, at Trixie’s expression.

“Jesus Christ…” Trixie muttered. “Reminds me of Bane and his Venom addiction from the way you describe it,” she remarked.

“One way of comparing it, I suppose,” Hound admitted. “If you want, I’d be happy to give you a full lesson on Autobot biology,”

“Sure I won’t fall asleep during the lesson?” Trixie asked. “Cause I’m not exactly the world’s best student,” she admitted, with a tinge of shame in her tone. “Quite possibly why I was held back a grade,”

She was suddenly brought into a deep hug by her girlfriend.

“Hey, that’s why I’m around isn’t it?” Twilight asked softly, as Trixie blushed at such a public display of affection. “Here to give you a helping hand or two,”

“And Trixie thanks you for that…” Trixie sighed, nibbling Twilight’s neck making her let out a small moan of pleasure in spite of herself. This time Twilight was the one blushing from the public display.

“Oh, go get a room already, why don’t you?” Lemon joked.

“You’re still here?” Hound tilted his head.

“Sorry, just really interested in your little tale about Transformer Biology,” Lemon admitted. “And then the show happening in front of my eyes,” she teased, and both Trixie and Twilight let out little eeps and blushed bright red.

“Lemon... I’ll even get Wheeljack to come right down from Cybertron itself if I have to and have him help make that de-ager if you keep teasing like this,” Hound grumbled, as he gritted his robotic teeth.

“Geez,” Lemon sighed. “I was only making a joke. Lighten up will you?”

“A joke isn’t funny if it’s embarrassing and humiliating,” Hound huffed and pointed his blaster. “Now, move along,”

“Aww, leave the girl alone, Hound,” Chrysalis’s distinctive voice remarked, as she exited the elevator that led into the base. “Sorry, just thought I’d drop by. Was I gate-crashing anything interesting?”

“Just me telling Lemon and Sugarcoat to calm down, before we invent age-regression with them as the guinea pigs,” Hound went towards Chrysalis. “Why do kids fight like this?”

“Oh come on, surely you were a kid once, even as old as you are?” Chrysalis asked. “Besides, as cute as kids are—and I bet baby Lemon and baby Sugarcoat would be adorable, it’s a bit extreme, innit?”

“We never had a childhood,” Hound shook his head. “We were just… built, and that was that.”

“Funny that, I talked to a friend of mine, and she told me you had childhoods like anybody else. Well, sparklinghoods, but you get the point,” Chrysalis answered. Hound raised an eyebrow at the mention of this ‘friend’ but thought nothing more of it.

“Yeah, Hound was just born like this I imagine. Grumpy as the Pit,” Swerve teased. “No wonder him and Prowl get along so well,”

All of a sudden, alarms cut out through the base, as the crimson alarm klaxons started to flash. Everyone jumped at the noise and the Autobots charged in for their orders, leaving the humans chasing after.

Prowl was already in the main command room, and brought up a satellite feed. “Okay, space station Argo, built by the Japanese, just spotted this. Keeping things quiet for now, but don’t know how long we have till the news breaks. Fowler’s keepings things hush for now, but we probably don’t have long.”

On the screen, was a bunch of Vehicons breaking into a Japanese power plant, with a black Decepticon, feminine in form leading them, flames painted on her torso. Nearby, a massive midnight blue crow-like Robot observed the situation.

“Flamewar…” Hound sighed. “Should have known she’d be tagging along for the ride. Odd though, she hates Predacons, so why is she teamed up with Filch?”

“Maybe she’s controlling Filch,” Twilight looked closer at the screen, watching as the bird Predacon did barely anything. Just observed. “Sure, she might hate them, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t want to make them obey her, right?”

“Yes,” Prowl confirmed. “Twilight’s right. Having a Predacon on your side, a good source of back-up. Either way, we can’t let them get away with any of that energy, they’d easily be able to convert it into Energon. Autobots, Transform and Roll Out!” he shouted, as he turned into his Police Car mode, and headed for the groundbridge.

The others followed behind him, as Prowl seemed to look at Swerve. “Swerve, keep an eye on the kids. Till we know the suits are fully functional, don’t let them out of your sight okay?”

“On it, boss!” Swerve saluted. Little did he notice Lemon, as everyone’s back was turned or transforming to vehicle mode, slip by...
> Part 11: Moth to Flame
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ikata Nuclear Power Plant, Ehime Prefecture, Japan

“Put your backs into it, boys!” a feminine voice shouted, as its owner watched the purple forms of the Vehicons carry out nuclear fuel rods, each glowing with a sickly green energy and stack them into piles.

From atop a nearby building, a massive dark purple form observed the situation, her all-seeing eyes keenly darting from right to left as she looked at the fuel rods, letting out a murmur of “Shiny…” every so often. Individually, and in their base state, the rods wouldn’t give off enough energy to last a quartex or so. But converted into Energon? Well, now that was another story entirely.

Twin silver vehicons, commanders of squadrons stood by their commander, who was giving Filch a warning look. If the Vehicons were slightly above drone level intelligence and knew things besides battle tactics, they’d probably be standing a few steps away from Flamewar. And with good reason, as the Decepticon was infamous not only for her archery skills but for her temper.

Long, black and lean, and covered in flame deco from head to heel strut, Flamewar was one of those sights you never forgot. Mind you, if you were on the business end of her energy bow, it was the last sight you saw more often than not.

“Perfect…” Flamewar said, a smirk creeping its way onto her faceplates. “Get these loaded up, and move ‘em out of here!” she barked to the drones. “Have no doubt the Autobots are already onto us, the slaggers!”

Filch hopped down from her perch, and transformed to her robot mode. Like Flamewar, her robotic mode was lean, emphasizing her feminine figure. Slightly more friendly looking, and she didn’t have as big of a temper as her cohort. Just a penchant for anything shiny, and a phone sex murmur that could barely be called a voice.

“The Autobots mustn’t know what we pilfered from here today,” Flamewar punched her own hand. “If you lose any samples to them, destroy them before they get any ideas on what they are.”

“Question?” Filch asked, raising a finger. “How are we even going to transport... Well, all of this?” she asked, gesturing to all the fuel rods. Then, she was answered as a massive, eight-wheeled truck pulled up, mostly silver but with a dark blue cab. The Predacon suppressed a groan, Octane, she should have known. Let me give you an explanation as to Octane’s personality, and why Filch wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of him. He was a liar, a bully, a cheat, and a general coward who couldn’t really be trusted any further than you could throw him. He, to be perfectly honest, was more likely to cut and run with the fuel for himself, then give it to Onslaught.

“Load up as much as you can, you walking scrap heaps!” Octane called to the Vehicons as rods already landed in his tank. “Fill it to the top, if possible. Master Onslaught needs these as much as you need energon!”

Before any more cons could load up the rods, a groundbridge opened up, with Prowl and his small band of Autobots shooting out of it. Firing a volley of blaster shots, they tore up the ground and shot up some of the drones, rendering them to scrap metal.

“Right on time…” Flamewar smiled, going for her bow, and firing off energy bolts at Prowl, who changed to robot mode as soon as possible and drew back his fist, before punching her soundly in the face. She let out a hiss of anger, and snarled: “Anyone ever told you it’s not nice to hit a lady?”

“Last I checked, you really didn’t count as a lady in anyone’s books, at least not a refined one,” Prowl retorted as he fired another round, getting closer and closer to her chassis. The two traded punches again and again, with Flamewar then leaping back and firing off another energy bolt, and Prowl let out a scream of pain as his insides seemed to burn and he staggered back in pain, before the sound of parts shifting was heard, and he was knocked aside by a massive serrated blade, spinning wildly. Octane, now in robot mode smirked as he stood over the Autobot.

“Hey, they’re ganging up on him!” Swerve shouted as he and Flanker scrapped some Vehicon drones, before he ran towards Prowl, only to be pinned to the ground by Filch in her beast mode.

“Nu-uh, you’re staying right here where I want you…” she smiled.

“Uh,” Swerve stammered out, a flush rising to his cheeks at Flich’s voice. “Maybe we can talk this over?”

During all of this, nobody had noticed Lemon hiding behind some barrels, snapping off pictures with her phone, squeeing: “This is so awesome! Metal to metal, man!”

Flich was knocked off of Swerve, by Hound, who’d fired his shoulder cannon.

“On your feet soldier,” he barked, helping Swerve up off the ground.

“Did… did you hear that voice?” Swerve asked, sighing a little at Filch’s vocalizations. “Couldn’t you have waited a little longer?”

“She was going to rip you to shreds!” Hound shouted in disbelief.

“Would have been a good way to die, with that smexy voice being the last thing I heard…” Swerve said dreamly.

In the chaos, Octane slunk away and had the remaining droids fill him up while the Bots worked on Filch and Flamewar. Grinning to himself, he felt the rods land within him as the drones slotted them in, one by one. He was almost full and ready to ship out.

Lemon took notice, and let out a shout. “Hey dudes, he’s going to get away!” she exclaimed, pointing towards Octane, and everyone looked at her.

“Lemon, what are you doing here?” Prowl shouted in disbelief, only to be punched in the face by Flamewar. “You’re supposed to be still at base! The suits, they’re still in the testing stage!”

“And miss all of this? Hell no!” Lemon shouted.

“Didn’t Hound say—“

“Forget what Hound says!” Lemon cut him off. “Look. I’m not going back now because one, you guys need help; two, this is AWESOME; three, I actually don’t mind going young again if someone like Spitfire or Fowler does hear about this!” she shouted, before flicking her wrists and two little bracers appeared. “Besides, consider this the suit’s test run! Henshin!” she shouted gleefully, putting all of her love of shows like Kamen Rider and Super Sentai into her voice and the suit appeared all over her, a glimmering purple piece of form-fitting robotic armor, with what looked to be a small cannon on the back. Then, she transformed into a small little pistol and landed in Prowl’s free hand, just in time for him to pull the trigger and shoot another Vehicon in the face.

Of course, Octane took this as his cue to leave and smashed through the gates of the Power Plant.

“Too late, Autobrats!” Octane jeered as he speeded down the road. “Enjoy being turned into lumps of junk!”

“Oh, I really hate him…” Prowl muttered before turning to Swerve and Hound. “Think you can handle things here?” Me and Octane, got some unfinished business to attend to!”

Swerve tossed his boss a salute and picked up a fallen Vehicon’s rifle as Phaser turned into his vehicle mode, a tiny little drone jet and took to the skies. Prowl, meanwhile turned into his own vehicle mode, with Lemon landing in the passenger seat as he sped off after Octane.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Flamewar screeched, and with a shifting of parts, was now in her own vehicle mode, a Suzuki Hayabusa.

“Great, so that just leaves us with the Phone-Sex Bird-Bot and the drones,” Hound commented, pulling out his pistol. “Piece of—”

Before he could finish, a dark forest green M1 Abrams battle tank burst through the walls of one of the buildings, and transformed into the infamous Combaticon known as Brawl, treads becoming shoulder armor and a black head with a blood red visor popping into view as the main cannon of the tank mode became Brawl’s rifle.

“...Cake.” Hound sighed.





Octane and Prowl thundered down the roads, the treads of their tyres leaving distinctive marks behind. Lemon Zest sat in the passenger’s seat, as Prowl’s holoform driver -A cop in full uniform, what else?- took the wheel so to speak, and his entire body paint changed to that of Japanese police paint livery. Never mind the fact that his alternate mode was an American made car. Sirens came on, as they roared past an electrical substation, and lights flashed.

“Give it up, you wheeled trash pile! I rule the roads when it comes to delivering for my master!” Octane grumbled as the smokestacks on his body turned to fire back at Prowl, machine gun style.

Prowl skidded and swiveled, trying to avoid being barraged by the volley of machine gun fire. “Lemon! Give me a hand here! Shoot out the smokestacks!”

Lemon nodded, and transformed back into her gun mode, attaching to Prowl’s side, and fired off several shots, taking out one of the smokestacks, with the part clattering to the side, and the two vehicles entered a tunnel carved into the mountains, engines roaring all the while.

“Filthy animals…” The fire from the second smokestack got faster, as if all of the excess bullets were loaded into it. “Try this on for size!” With a flurry of bullets, he started to pierce Prowl’s windscreen and glass shattered, as the massive Decepticon continued trying to get at Lemon.

Lemon yelped, and ducked for cover as the two exited the tunnel, and onto a mountain pass. Two purple Cadillac Ciens, AKA Vehicon drones in their alternate mode came up from behind, boxing Prowl in on the narrow street.

“Geez, what is this? Initial D?” Lemon asked to no-one in particular.

Octane got an idea, and immediately stopped in the road. Because of how close Prowl was to him, the Autobot smashed headlong into his back and felt his plates begin to bend and crumple. The rest of the glass broke and a few shards cut into Lemon’s skin drawing blood as Octane drove off again.

“I thought your buddies were supposed to take care of those guys!” Lemon shouted, as one of the Vehicons rammed Prowl from behind.

“Some of ‘em, must have slipped through the cracks!” Prowl guessed. Suddenly, a small missile came out of nowhere and sent one of the Vehicons tumbling end over end as Phaser appeared.

“I’ll take care of these two, keep them off your back. You just worry about their boss okay?” the Micromaster asked.

Suddenly, an engine’s whine was heard, as Flamewar, in all of her glory pulled up alongside Prowl, a holographic driver at the wheel.

“Miss me?” the archer quipped.

“Like a bad gearbox…” Prowl muttered.

“Now then. Let’s do this.” Flamewar transformed into robot mode and landed on top of Prowl, trying to throw him off the roads. She tried aiming inside the vehicle with her bow, trying to get at Lemon, but she was thrown off by one of Phaser’s missiles, and she rolled behind Prowl, before picking herself up off the tarmac and letting out a little snarl as she reached for her bow.

“Little annoyance!” she snapped, firing her bow, and knocking the little jet out of the air, even as the second Vehicon caught back up with Prowl, but he slammed it into the side of the guardrail, before it flipped and Prowl sped up as the Vehicon landed behind him and exploded into a fireball.

“Now that you two are taken care off, just Octane and little miss trigger-happy to worry about” he sighed, before minigun shots pierced his back window, and once again, Lemon had to dive for cover as a tan jeep came up from behind, from another road, giggling like a madman.

“Who the Hell is that?” Lemon squeaked, getting the feeling maybe joining the ‘Bots on this little excursion wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Swindle, Combaticon and Con Artist extraordinaire. You have no idea how many times I’ve had to bust him for selling faulty Energon, amongst other things. Only fitting he’d join his boss on this little venture to Earth. Loyalty, or fear, haven’t figured out which of those made him do it yet though,” Prowl explained.

“Maybe he just wants to get back at you, for all the times you busted him,” Lemon suggested, still keeping her head down as bullets flew over her head.

“...That too.” Prowl admitted before he was suddenly kicked off the road by Flamewar, and began tumbling down a mountainside. He quickly transformed to bot mode, and shouted: “Hold on!” as he grabbed Lemon in his hands, and slid down the mountainside, eventually coming to a halt in a small forest by a lake. He grimaced when he saw Flamewar, and Swindle -now in robot mode- jumping down to join him, optics gleaming. Setting Lemon down and motioning for her to hide, he readied himself for the battle ahead…







Canterlot:

Meanwhile, soaring high above the city of Canterlot, and soon outside the city limits and into the mountains beyond was Spitfire, in her personal F/A-18 Hornet, Blue Angel livery and all. She too had been listening to Xiraia’s podcast mainly to see if she’d figured out anything too important about the ongoing Autobot and Decepticon battles, and had quickly figured out where the Decepticon base was located like the girls had.

Of course, there was a small problem with that…

“Shit!” Spitfire swore, as she soon found herself dodging and weaving between auto-cannons that popped out of the ground near the crashed ship, and desperately trying not to get her 29 million dollar plane scratched. This problem, of course, was only heightened when several pure silver Vehicon drones took to the sky and transformed into Cybertronian planes, firing missile after missile after her.

“Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have a certain helicopter by my side…” Spitfire muttered, thinking back to a show she’d watched in her childhood back in the eighties, one that had spawned her dreams of flying up there in the clear blue. After some desperately quick maneuvers that would make a normal person’s stomach churn, and even at one point paying homage to Top Gun by getting up above one of the Vehicons and flipping her plane upside down and giving the drone the finger she managed to evade the laser fire. But that still didn’t account for the fact that she was quite outnumbered.

“Okay, let’s see what you make of this!” Spitfire smirked, and turned her plane on its side, so that the drones shot past her, before she locked on target and fired, taking two down with two of her four AIM-9 Sidewinder missiles. It may have been all dressed up in the fancy paint, but that still didn’t change the fact that Spitfire was flying a Hornet loaded with weapons, and she intended to make full use of all of it. The next two of the drones, they ended up full of holes no thanks to the jet’s rotary front cannon, the M61 Vulcan.

The final drone ended up in pieces with a shot from one of the Hornet’s AIM-7 Sparrow missiles.

Spitfire chuckled as she headed back to base, and readied herself to file a very long report. Yep, she still had it. “See ya next time, ‘Cons!” she laughed, and gave them a quick salute.







Back at the Power Plant, Hound and Swerve were struggling against the double team of Filch and Brawl.

Filch dived forward and unfurled her wings, sweeping both Hound and Swerve onto their backs as Brawl pointed his cannon at both of the downed bots.

“Oh, two Autobots in one day,” Brawl laughed. “Primus must love me right now!”

Hound’s gears began turning in his mind, and he smirked, catching both Filch and Brawl off-guard. “Let’s see this from another angle, shall we?” Flipping forwards, he grabbed Filch and threw her into Brawl, knocking them both onto their backsides. A scout he might have been on this squad anyways, but he never let anyone forget he used to be a drill sergeant. Behind his back, Swerve went for Prowl’s pistol, and fired it.

As Filch and Brawl recovered, groaning out in pain, they suddenly looked up and saw a truly massive form looming over them. What looked like Tidal Wave with an Autobot sigil instead of a Decepticon one loomed over them. The cannons on his chest pointed down at both of them, and the volley would have blown them to pieces beyond salvaging.

“Sweet Primus…” Flich squawked. “Screw this noise, I’m outta here!” she shouted, going for a groundbridge with Brawl using what little intelligence he did have, and following suit. ‘Tidal Wave’ vanished, and Swerve sighed in relief.

“You’ve got a very creative mind, anyone ever tell you that?” Hound asked, as he took his gun back.

“Hey, about the only thing that frightens me as much as Overmegasixwave,” Swerve replied.

“...I don’t even want to know, do I?”

“Hypothetical amalgamation of Megatron, Overlord, Sixshot, and Shockwave,” Swerve said in reply, pressing his fingers together nervously.

“Told you I didn’t want to know,” Hound muttered. “They can’t even combine! Hell, Shockwave’s dead!”

“Matter of time, I tell you,” Swerve replied with a little finger wag. “Decepticons are obsessed with combining. Put two of 'em in a room and within seconds one will be standing on the other's shoulders. Fact.”

“...Oh, shut up.”







Prowl and Flamewar charged into each other, Octane a thing of the past as they both clashed; metal scraping against metal as they shoulder-rammed, kicked, punched, and tried lifting as they dueled. Prowl roundhouse kicked Flamewar in the chest making her stagger back, and then brought out a sword to duel against Swindle, who had brought out an axe.

“Like this? Got it off a Lithonian for a real cheap deal, should give a real shock and awe!” Swindle commented, as the blade crackled with electricity.

Of course, all the while, Lemon was taking photos with her phone. Even though the bleeding was beginning to sting, that wouldn’t stop her from getting the best shots possible.

Prowl grimaced, and dodged the swing, before punching Swindle soundly in the face, before his blade shifted forms and Prowl was soon wielding a bo staff and spinning it. “You’re not the only one with toys, you know,” Prowl remarked. “Meet my favorite, the Decepticon Hunter.”

“Bit on the nose innit?” Swindle asked nervously.

“Links to my neural nets, changing its shape into whatever I desire at the time. Blaster, Cudgel, Staff, Axe… Do you get the picture, and best bit? You’re not getting it!” Prowl taunted.

“Heard of that tech, still in the prototype phase isn’t it?” Swindle commented, as he blocked a blow from the weapon with his axe. “Very, very finicky. Minor malfunction? Could prove just as dangerous to you as to me!”

“Dangerous or no, let’s see if you have the guts to use it right!” Flamewar taunted. She was soon answered, as Prowl spun around, and hit her in the side of the head knocking her flat leaving only Swindle standing. The Decepticon Hunter shifted forms once again, and became a pair of nunchucks.

“Er, maybe we can cut a deal?” Swindle asked, before he smirked and vanished into a Groundbridge. Prowl swore as he heard the sound of parts shifting and changing, and then the sound of a plane’s engine as he saw Octane turn into a massive C-130 cargo plane and vanish through a Groundbridge of his own as he took to the skies.

“Scrap.” Prowl sighed.
> Part 12: Burnin' For You
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back at the Autobase, Perceptor was just re-emerging from his personal quarters after a long recharge cycle. He’d been working day and night to find a solution to Road Rage’s… predicament for lack of a better term, with very little success.

With a distinct hissing sound, the doors to the Autobase’s medical wing opened, and Perceptor stepped into the room, datapad in hand amongst about probably a million other things.

“Primus, Perceptor, heard you were one busy bot, but never knew it was this bad…” Road Rage asked in a concerned tone of voice, switching off the local fifties throwback radio station headed up by a girl known as ‘Pinkie Pie’. Strange name, but then again she was named Road Rage so really, who was she to judge? Song had been playing, mentioned something about blue suede shoes. Very suave singer, really. “Sure you’re not making a mistake throwing yourself into your work this much?”

Perceptor let out a little yelp, and dropped everything he was holding, scrambling to pick it back up with Road Rage giving him a hand.

“I’ve only made one mistake in my entire life,” Perceptor responded as he looked up from his things and towards Road Rage, with an edge of warning in his tone. “Once, you hear? I don’t intend to make that same mistake again. Not ever.”

Road Rage wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about and figured it probably best not to ask, but put a comforting hand on his shoulder anyway. “Whatever your mistake was, I’m sure you’ll correct it. Nobody’s perfect,” she replied in a soft tone of voice. “We all do things in life we regret. But if we don't learn from them, and move towards a brighter future, we pay twice,” she told him, voice still soft but gaze quite firm.

“Easy for you to say…” Perceptor muttered quietly to himself before he regained his composure and began holding up an odd little device Road Rage suspected he’d probably built himself, as she felt every inch of her body being scanned. “So, how do you feel?”

“The usual, like scrap really,” Road Rage replied dryly.

“Yes, I suspected as much, but anything out of the ordinary, anything you can really describe to me that might help me give me a clue as to how to work on this virus of yours?” Perceptor asked gently, and Road Rage was honestly surprised by his bedside manner. Normally, he was supposed to be this cold, unfeeling bot focused only on his work. She supposed, spending time around humanity and spending time around her had made him open up a bit more, act more like a normal Cybertronian really.

“I… I don’t know how to describe it, except maybe as this burning sensation wanting to eat me up inside, tear away every fiber of my being. For the most part, it’s fairly tame, like a little prick at the back of your neck, but every now and again it flares up like an inferno and I feel like I’ve had this red-hot poker stuck into me, and I just want to scream, tear things up like some sort of monster,” Road Rage whispered, every inch of her voice dripping with sheer terror. “Like… like some sort of instrument of destruction,”

“I see,” Perceptor replied, using his scope mounted on his shoulders to look inside Road Rage’s body, past her armor plating, and to her body frame structure and see all of her inner workings, cogs and gears turning and her spark beating and pulsating, albeit at a slightly faster rate than was normal for any Cybertronian. More symptoms of the virus, he supposed. 

“Success is a lousy teacher. It seduces smart people into thinking they can't lose,” Perceptor muttered, as he continued looking over Road Rage’s vitals.

“Surprisingly grim, coming from you,” she noted.

“Yeah, quote I heard once. Made by a human named Bill Gates, smart man really. For a human,” Perceptor remarked, before clarifying. “What I mean is, keep on being successful, you get arrogant, and you believe you’re on top of the world, nothing can go wrong for you. When in fact, one simple mistake can shatter everything you ever knew, and send your whole life as you knew it crashing down,”

“Listen, whatever you did, I’m sure you can correct it. Wasn’t your mentor Wheeljack, who said, ‘I barely ever make mistakes, but when I do, I correct them?” So, shouldn’t you be listening to his advice?” Road Rage asked.

“Depends on how big the mistake is,” Perceptor muttered in reply.

“So, just means you have to work harder to correct it right?” Road Rage asked.

“You’re surprisingly insightful today,” Perceptor observed. Road Rage, still sitting on her berth, shrugged.

“Comes with the territory I suppose,” she remarked. “I’m an ambassador, often requires me to get to know people quite well, the reason I signed on for this job in the first place, get to know Earth culture better,”

“I noticed,” Perceptor remarked, turning the radio station back on, where a brief snippet of a song played.

“Oh, the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear
And it shows them pearly white
Just a jackknife has old MacHeath, babe
And he keeps it, ah, out of sight
Ya know when that shark bites with his teeth, babe…” a voice crackled from it, before Perceptor turned it back off.

“Suppose it’s hard for me to do my job as an ambassador, when I have to stay cooped up in her half the time, getting drugged up to slow the flow of that damn virus,” Road Rage muttered bitterly.

Perceptor was now the one putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll find a cure. Not just me working on this, if you remember. Twilight, Sugarcoat, they’re putting their backs into this. They don’t have to, they have social lives of their own, but you know what? They’re dropping everything just to help you, someone they barely know. It’s a lot more than most Cybertronians, I shamefully admit, would do. Before, I had barely any respect for humankind, but now that’s changed. Funny that.”

Road Rage only smiled.

Back in the present, Perceptor walked into the main room of the base, and looked around, before blinking slightly.

“Okay, so where’d everyone go?” he asked, before looking down towards Sugarcoat, who was pacing back and forth in worry. “D-Did I miss something?”

“Uh dude, Decepticons just got spotted in Japan stealing some nuclear fuel rods, and Prowl and the others just went off to go chase them. Seriously, alarms went off and everything, whole nine yards!” Indigo exclaimed. “How could you miss this?”

“I was in a recharge cycle, robots need sleep too you know,” Perceptor replied simply and in a matter of fact tone. “Japan, huh? Okay, so how do we plan to keep a lid on this?”

“Chrysalis and Fowler are running interference, Japan’s experienced in robotics as we all know, so they’ll just say that a few prototypes went out of control,” Indigo explained.

“People are dumb, by default in some ways,” Indigo added. “And this explanation is so crazy, people might just believe it. In fact, I’d bet they would.”

“Hey, uh…” Trixie spoke up, absentmindedly strumming her guitar. “Anyone seen Lemon?”

It then hit everyone, that Lemon had conveniently gone missing, and Sugar sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose as everyone’s gazes turned to the little tunnel where the Groundbridge normally opened up, and Prowl and company had gone through only a few hours before.

“...Tell me she didn’t.” Indigo muttered, as the penny dropped.

“She did.” Sugarcoat sighed to herself.







Ikata, Nishiuwa District, Ehime Prefecture

Eventually, the entire group of Autobots met up at a dockyard by the sea not that far from the Power Plant. As Prowl pulled up to let Lemon out, he felt this distinct, tingling sensation. Like a small fire flickering inside him. It wasn’t painful by any means, but just noticeable enough.

“L-Lemon?” Hound asked in shock, his cool blue optics widening by a considerable margin. “What in the Pit’s name are you doing here?”

“Okay, I admit it, I tagged along to get some cool snaps,” Lemon sighed, rubbing her bloody face. “Not my best decision, I admit. But can you blame me? Robot on robot action, and yes I know that sounds like porn so sue me, but this was something I couldn’t miss!”

“I… I…” Hound sighed. “We’ll talk about this later, or more likely your friends will give you a good enough chewing out. I’d probably be tearing you a new one right now, but I’m too exhausted, leaking fluid just like you are (Here he pointed to his chest, which was leaking blue energon) and your friends will probably be more than enough to knock enough sense into you so you won’t do this again anyways,” he stated, before turning to Prowl. “So, how’d it go with Octane?”

Slowly, but surely, and it looked as if he was in pain while doing so, Prowl transformed. Swerve and Hound shot him concerned looks all the while. The entire back of Prowl’s vehicle mode ended up as his legs, lightbars becoming part of his feet, doors folding out to become arms, and front wheels ending up on the back of Prowl’s shoulders as the entire hood of the car became his chest, with a red chevron atop a white head coming into view.

“Got away, Flamewar and Swindle managed to keep me from stopping him, and he transformed into one of his alt-modes and Groundbridged out of here,” Prowl explained, short and getting straight to the point. No nonsense, and no watering things down. “But… On the bright side, we know now at least Perceptor’s armor for the girls worked. Wouldn’t have made it out with my Spark intact without Lemon,” he said, and the girl in question beamed, before Prowl shot her a look. “Still doesn’t excuse her actions though.”

He then noticed Hound and Swerve’s expressions, and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Hound said. “It’s just, well, when you transformed you looked as if you were in pain while doing so. Did you get hit a bit harder than you’re letting on?”

“It’s nothing,” Prowl refuted. “You’re probably right, just took a few too many knocks and dings from Flamewar and Swindle, that’s all.”

Inside, his Logic Circuits were screaming at him that this wasn’t the case, and he’d seen this problem somewhere before, but every other part of Prowl was ignoring them. This concerned him, although he wasn’t about to let it show. Prowl went for his comm unit on his wrist, and requested for a bridge back home, as his colors flickered back to American police livery. Prowl started to transform back to vehicle mode for the ride home, but Hound put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

Swerve transformed back to vehicle mode, legs becoming the back end of a pickup truck, and arms folding up into the chassis as the entire front end of the truck -Which made up a huge amount of his robot mode’s back- moved forwards, the whole thing being accompanied by the very distinctive TSCHE-CHU-CHU-CHE-TSCHE sound. Hound followed suit, and his transformation wasn’t all that different really, with legs flipping and becoming his vehicle mode’s back half and arms folding up into the chassis, with the head vanishing from sight.

A swirling green and blue vortex of energy opened up, and as Lemon stepped inside Swerve’s cab, she noted a slightly beaten and battered Toyota Hilux pickup resting off to the side, by some massive metal shipping containers.

“Hey, so why didn’t you pick that as your vehicle mode Swerve?” she asked. “Mom had one of them, and those things were practically indestructible. Only reason it gave up the ghost was because I… may have accidentally backed it into a lake while learning to drive and flooded the engine compartment,” she laughed nervously. Swerve shuddered, noting to himself to never let her take drive him for any reason.

“Hey Hound, doesn’t that look like the sorta vehicle mode my sister Smallfoot might use as an alt-mode if she came to Earth?” Swerve asked, as the three entered the groundbridge portal.

“Now that you mention it, yeah…” Hound mused.

“I’m sorry, I’m lost here,” Lemon asked, scratching her head. A small white jet flew past her, Phaser if she had to guess. “Who’s this Smallfoot?”

“Sorry, friend of ours and fellow scout from back on Cybertron, very sweet soul. Got along with fellow mini-bots like Glyph and Tap-Out,” Hound explained, with a wistful tone in his voice. “Oddest trio of friends I ever met, considering their various backgrounds. Scout, researcher, and former gladiator. Never understood what they had in common aside from being smaller than your average bot.”

“Hey, me and the rest of the girls get along quite well, even if we’re so different right?” Lemon asked.

“Fair enough, I suppose…” Hound admitted.

“Hey, Friendship is Magic right?” Lemon asked before groaning. “God, that sounded so cheesy.”







Back at the base, Sugarcoat and Twilight had explained to Perceptor about a certain conspiracy theorist’s broadcast.

“I must say, I will never understand the human condition to believe in what simply isn’t there,” Perceptor mused to himself, rubbing a finger on his chin in thought. “Granted, I’m not a psychological profilist, not among my many sets of skills, but it is a fascinating thing isn’t it?”

“Hey,” Chrysalis put in. “Some of us, we all need explanations for what’s going on in the world. I mean, we all believed in sea serpents and giant octopus sinking ships and angry sky gods creating storms just because we couldn’t find anything logical about our planet. I mean, the fact that we believed the Sun and everything else revolved around the Earth is saying quite a bit. Though I think that speaks to the human ego if you ask me…” she mused.

“And then we find out giant squid, though nowhere near the ship sinking size -Perhaps dinghy sinking size- exist!” Sugarcoat pointed out. “And now aliens as well, namely you guys!” she exclaimed, gesturing to Perceptor.

“Not to mention the sea serpents thing, although considering they come from another dimension well, guess that would make them aliens I suppose,” Twilight mused.

“Er, actually, about that other dimension thing… Ran a study on the portal in that statue in front of your high school Twilight,” Perceptor put in. “Turns out, Spacebridge to another world far from here, lightyears away.”

There was the sound of twin thuds, and Perceptor looked to see both Trixie and Twilight had fainted dead away.

“...Was it something I said?” the scientist asked, and both Sunder and Chrysalis gave him ‘looks’.

“Oh nothing, you just made their entire reality crash all around them,” Sugarcoat deadpanned. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I-I see…” Perceptor sighed. “Now, can you continue on about this Xiraia and this radio show of hers. Sounded like you were leading up to something important,”

“Ah, so I was,” Sugarcoat nodded, clearing her throat. “I managed to record the entire thing, and this bit might be of interest to you.”

With that, she pressed a button on her Pipboy-inspired bracelets (The same that let Lemon transform into a Targetmaster) and let it play.

“Anyways, for those of you not in the know, not too long ago, some scientists at the Canterlot Observatory, they sighted two strange meteors coming down right outside the city. One impacted in the canyons outside the town, while the other crash-landed in the mountains. I say crash landed, because despite all of head scientist Night Light’s comments that they are not spacecraft, I know better. Seriously, what else could they be? Asteroids?”

“Hmm, seems this human’s a lot smarter than most, despite her need to think everything’s a conspiracy,” Perceptor mused, taking things in stride. “Let me guess, and if you’re as smart as I think you are, you’re about to tell me that you figured out that you think that the second asteroid is the Decepticon base?” he asked.

“What else could it be?” Sugarcoat replied, crossing her arms.

“Trust me,” Spitfire said, as her face came up onscreen, letting everyone see the inside of her jet’s cockpit. “Kid’s right on the money. I listened to that same radio show as well, and came to the same conclusion. Of course, unlike Sugar here, I actually went and checked to see if my hunch was correct. Long and short of it?” she continued. “It is, I wouldn’t recommend taking that base. I was greeted by a squadron of those Vehicons and a huge number of auto-turrets. Barely escaped alive. I imagine the Cons would be quick to figure out now that people know the location of their base, you aren’t far behind and are probably beefing up their security as we speak! Wouldn’t recommend taking it, least not yet. Not with your forces at least. Give me a chance to round up some tanks and such, and a full flight squadron and then maybe we can take it in one clean sweep.”

“Negative,” Prowl said as he walked inside the base, with Swerve and Hound soon following. After Lemon was let out, they transformed. “I don’t want to risk any possible human casualties.”

“Speaking of possible human casualties…” Indigo growled out, and ran over and punched Lemon in the gut, nearly making her best friend double over.

“What the Hell was that for dude?” Lemon coughed out.

“You… You complete idiot!” Indigo snapped, close to tears. “You could have been killed, I-No, we could have lost you!”

Indigo’s quick correction was not lost on anyone, and Chrysalis suppressed a smirk. Ah, young love. Those two, they reminded her of her when she was their age. Of course, unlike them, they’d probably be able to keep their hormones in check as they got older. Probably.

“Seriously, that was damn reckless.” Sugarcoat admonished, rubbing away at Lemon’s wounds, wiping away all the blood and such.

“You’re… You’re such a… Gah!” Indigo screamed, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration and walking off.

“Indy, wait…” Lemon whispered before brushing past Sugarcoat knocking her on her butt and running after her.

“Well, guess I better go after them I suppose.” Hound sighed and changed back to vehicle mode driving off after the two teenagers.







Eventually, Hound did catch up to Lemon and Indigo in the many, many tunnels that made up a veritable maze inside the canyon walls that housed the Autobot base. It was inside these walls, that another hidden gem of the Ghastly Gorge was revealed. In this case, quite, quite literally.

The walls were lined with crystals of the finest shapes and size, and sparkling bright purple and red as they glittered in the sunlight peeking through a small crack in the cavern ceiling. Geodes and gemstones of all shapes and sizes littered the caverns. Some smoothed and refined, while others retained a spikier form. What would have been a lightless cave had been transformed into a piece of art with how the light reflected off of each and every crystal in sight, creating a kaleidoscope of lights that bathed every corner of the cave. It was tranquil, peaceful and if Hound had known about this place earlier, he admitted he probably would have come here just for some peace and quiet, maybe to update his personal logs or something.

To be perfectly honest, he’d grown bored with the constant metallic landscapes of his homeworld and honestly longed for something more. Aside from the prospect of chasing down and capturing rogue Decepticons, he admitted that the idea of seeing an entirely new world was a very pleasing prospect.

But that, of course, was in the past. Right now, he needed to focus on the here and now, and currently, that was getting, or at least trying to help Lemon and Indigo reconcile. He could feel the tension between them, Primus knew he felt with Sunstreaker and Side Burn before they interfaced for lack of a better term.

He chuckled in remembrance, Side Burn had actually come off from the same production run as Prowl of all bots; however, there’d been some sort of glitch in the production run causing Side Burn to roll off the assembly line vastly different in appearance from everybody else. Cybertronians, when rolling off production lines, each had the same body style underneath depending on what production line was used. (Say, for example, body-type 65356-9292-346 which was often used for bots like Glyph and Bumblebee) Somehow, Side Burn had managed to subvert this trend with his body-type and come off especially different in personality from Prowl in particular.

“Hey, you alright?” Hound asked, sitting his much larger frame by Lemon’s, who was crying, and wiping away tears from her eyes.

“R-Really should get that patched up you know…” Lemon sniffled looking towards the wound in Hound’s chest.

“I’ve survived worse,” Hound replied. “But let’s talk about you, or you and Indigo to be more precise,”

“I already know what’s about to happen.” Lemon sighed and looked up at him. “Indy’s already mad at me, and I’m pretty sure all the other girls don’t even wanna speak to me right now. If anything, you might as well follow through with that thing of yours; maybe I do need to be benched for a bit,”

“You’re being an idiot,” Hound commented.

“Geez. Thanks for rubbing it in,” Lemon groaned and buried her head into her legs.

“Sorry, but that’s what it is. Sure, running off like that into the heat of battle was dumb, but you saved Prowl’s life. Keep this between us, okay, but if I was a younger bot, I probably would have done the exact same thing myself.” Hound admitted.

“But you’re an Autobot. Not a human like me,” said Lemon. “Y’know there’s a reason why we keep running from Decepticons instead of trying to fight them as much as you do. We’d be crushed like grapes because of them!”

“Oh, I knew a bot back on Cybertron, one of the smallest bots you’d ever run across, and yet he’d have the nerve to take on titan-sized Cons like Trypticon. Tap-Out was his name, had bearings of chrome steel.”

“How quickly did he last? Not long, if I had to guess,” Lemon replied.

“Actually still alive today, if you can believe it. Works as a bodyguard at some bank last I recall. Wrestle a perp to the ground faster than you’d be able to blink.”

“No shit!” Lemon gaped, and Hound nodded.

“The thing with bigger enemies, is that the smaller ones always have another way of fighting back,” Hound sat down beside Lemon and patted her back. “Even the Decepticons, no matter how big they are, can still be taken out from the inside by a human, if they could. But enough on that, how did you and Indigo meet? Judging by your dynamic, you’d have to be childhood friends I’d think,” Hound mused.

“Yeah, that’s true. Sure, at Crystal Prep we sorta drifted apart for a while, no thanks to Principal Bitch as we all call her, but we met on a playground. Some assholes were mocking me for playing with dolls, and Indy…” here Lemon sighed wistfully. “She just knocked them flat. Broke one of their noses, if I recall,” she chuckled. “She always did hit hard…” Lemon smiled.

“So why should she hate you for going into battle like that? Sure, it was reckless, but we’d never let you die like that, Lemon.” Hound sighed and looked down. “Look. Maybe Indigo needs some time in the thick of battle, caught in near-death scenarios so that she knows how you felt when she yelled at you.”

“Maybe,” Indigo’s voice said from behind the two. “But I think I’ll pass on the recklessness for the time being. Listen, I was just scared about you. I mean, those suits of ours, till you used it against what’s his face, we didn’t even know they’d work!”

“Indigo, if you’re going to scold and shout at her again, I wouldn’t,” Hound lowered his brows. “I’ve already had to break up one Shadowbolt fight today. One more and I’ll have to take action; one way or another.”

“Yeah yeah,” Indigo replied in a dismissive tone. “Who said anything about shouting or scolding her? I just wanted to talk, that’s all.”

“Well, you sound like you’re still riled up,” Hound stood back up. “The way you wanted to brush me off like that, it doesn’t spell ‘calmed down’ in my optics.”

“Listen, I get that you’re concerned for us and all, but can you give us some space? Please?” Indigo asked. “This is sorta a personal matter between me and Lemon.”

“Personal?” Hound tilted his head. “How so?

“I mean really secretive personal, Hound,” Indigo walked past him. “The stuff I’d rather not have shared ‘round.”

Hound nodded in understanding, and smiled to himself before talking off, the sound of his massive metal footsteps receding being heard.

“Lemon. I’m not just worried about you because of how dangerous it was out there,” Indigo felt a lump appear in her throat. “If you’re gone… I have nobody left.”

“What about your parents, or the rest of the ‘Bolts?” Lemon asked.

“The other Shadowbolts have way too many issues these days. Sugarcoat’s stuffier than a stuffed stocking, Sour Sweet’s emotionally unstable, and Sunny Flare… well, I don’t really know what to make of her these days after Cinch and all…” she held Lemon’s shoulder. “Without you, I feel like I’ve got this gaping hole where my heart should be, y’know?”

Lemon faked a gag. “You know how mushy that sounds right? Sure you’re not in a Nicholas Sparks novel?” she teased, punching her best friend on the arm slightly. She noted Indigo avoided the subject of her parents completely.

“Lemon. Please,” Indigo’s stare intensified as she saw Lemon’s smile fade. “This isn’t a joking matter. Don’t die. You’re my only family. My sister, if you want. I can’t lose my only family; for anything.”

“Oh please, give me a break. Stop denying it,” Lemon remarked. “We both know we’re more to each other than sisters,” she replied before facepalming. “Great, now I’m the mushy one!”

“Yes you are,” Indigo nodded. “But still, I’m not about to watch you go out there and risk life and limb just for some ‘cool shots’ or some other crap like that. I need you. We need you. Without you, what are we other than bullies and jackasses?”

“Friends?” Lemon asked. “Trust me, I’ve seen the rest of the Shadowbolts. When we’re together, we actually act like normal people, instead of just screwed up prep school kids.”

“Aren’t those the same thing?” Indigo raised a brow. “But anyways, it doesn’t change my opinions or my point. And, if anything, if you die…” she held Lemon’s hand. “At least die with me. Together. Then, we can stay buds for the rest of time.”

“Indy…” Lemon’s eyes widened as she felt her fingers interlock with Indigo’s. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do, Lemon Zest.” Indigo smiled and pulled her into a gentle hug, with a small kiss finding its’ way onto her lips. “We’ve been through so much together, you and I. It’s only fair that we go out the same way; not with one of us biting the dust early,”

Lemon Zest felt a warmth begin to grow in her heart as she wrapped her arms around Indigo’s chest and brought her into a hug. Smiling and nuzzling into her friend’s chest, she knew that things would only get better; so long as the two of them stuck together through thick and thin.

“Indy… thank you,” Her face flashed with color again as she broke out of the hug. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Hey. No problem, girl.” Indigo tousled Lemon’s hair. “That’s what friends do, right? We shout, argue, and have our little… problems. But at the end of it all, we’re still BFFs. And that’s what makes us truly special.”

“Totally!” Lemon replied, before giving Indigo another quick kiss.

In the shadows, Chrysalis and Hound sighed in relief. “Thank God that’s over,” Chrysalis muttered. “I was worried we were going to have to shove them into a room together or something and lock the damn door…”
> Part 13: Kindred
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Welcome to KO Burger, where every patty’s a knockout,” Sour Sweet found herself repeating for what had to be the hundredth time that day alone. She honestly wanted to just drop dead then and there, at the very most it would relieve her of this monotonous job. Even with the smile forced onto her face, she knew that deep down, she felt like she was strapped into a torture device, being poked, stabbed, and branded by the corporation she served.

How come all the other Shadowbolts get to do all the good shit while I’m stuck here, peddling burgers for twerps and their families?” Sour mentally moaned to herself, handing off another meal to another customer. Two super combos with extra fries, costing $5.59, she vaguely remembered. “Sometimes, I wish they were the ones working these tedious jobs instead; ESPECIALLY Sugarcoat. Smart little bitch… But no, she’s got the brains to go into university and shit, maybe she’ll become some sort of nurse. Oh sure, I’d congratulate her all the same, but I doubt I’d honestly make it so far. Because, let’s face it, who’d hire me for my bedside manner? They’d have to be crazy!”

And Sour Sweet knew a thing or two about crazy. Even before the Friendship Games, she had trouble trusting people. No matter how good they were or how close a friendship she had made with them, she always had voices in her head and alternate realities in her eyes that were a far cry from the one she was in. An inability to see the world for what it really was, coupled with her tendencies to switch emotions at the drop of a hat, cost her more than a few bonds and relationships in her time growing up.

There was a reason the Who song “The Real Me” could either set her off in a fury and make her want to punch everyone in sight, or make her break down in tears of sympathy for the singer, or protagonist of the song.

“Hey, Sour. We need you in the drive-thru real quick,” Her manager came over and patted her on the back. “For some reason, Slick managed to get himself a bit of a stomach bug and it’s playing hell on his work ethic.”

Sour sighed. “I warned him to clean out his fridge, half of that crap’s been tainted as it is,” she mumbled to herself. She really just, for once, wanted a bit of peace and quiet as it was. Maybe after work, she’d go out back and light up a joint with the rest of the boys. About the only time nobody really cared who she was. 

“Alright. Fine. I’ve got this.” She walked away from the counter and headed towards the drive thru windows.

The headphones of the drive-thru PA system were just as barren and bleak as the rest of her mental state. Black and chunky, with what looked like the thinnest, least appealing microphone ever to grace the planet, it was yet another bolt on her impounded life. Still, she slipped them on her head, turned to the cameras, and tried to fake that smile again. Try being the keyword, as her cheeks began to hurt from the facade.

A loud rumble filled Sour’s ears as some massive off-roader vehicle (Like Sour could care to remember the name) pulled up, tinted windows and heavily customized rims and all. She had to suppress a groan, looked like the local drug runners had a serious case of the munchies, probably from smoking too much weed. Only reason they’d come to this place, really.

“Welcome to KO Burger, where every patty’s a knockout…” Sour’s voice began to wane, knowing that this wouldn’t be pleasant for her. “Can I take your order please?” she sighed, absentmindedly adjusting her hat that every worker at the joint was supposed to wear. Really, Sunny Flare would probably have a field day at the sheer crimes against fashion this place committed, she thought with a chuckle.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll take two threes and a cola to go. And a bit of you too.” The voice must’ve belonged to a guy from some school, one who couldn’t be bothered to read the whole order and say the numbers to make it fast. Sour let out a little growl. This was far worse than some pack of drug addicts. No, it had to be one of those buffed-up jocks on steroids who thought they could land any girl they wanted. This idiot certainly couldn’t have been from her school, everyone knew to stay far away from her and never make remarks like that, otherwise, they’d find themselves on their asses missing a few teeth. This was then followed by a small chuckle from him as Sour started up again.

“What size are those orders again?” She gritted her teeth, but still tried to stay collected; though it was becoming more and more of a challenge for her to do so. Any normal person would have backed off by this point, but that would require this particular customer to have some semblance of intelligence.

“It's 5 o’clock somewhere and I need to update my resume. Would you put "day drinking" under experience or special abilities?” Sour thought to herself with a look skywards, seemingly praying for some relief. Maybe a lightning bolt striking this guy and his car making it burst aflame. Sadly, no such luck. The sky was as clear as day.

“Who cares about the sizes, just hook me up, fast!” Replied the customer. Music was blaring at an obnoxiously loud volume from the stereo speakers. Rap music at that, something Sour had a particular distaste for. It was where good music went to die. “I have to get back to the gym soon, or I’ll miss my fat-burning class!”

“This jackass… I’ll just give him small ones then since he’s got no respect for taking time to study the damn menu!” Sour turned back towards the people in the kitchen. “Broil! Simmer! I need two small number threes and a cola!” she barked, snapping her fingers impatiently as she did so. “And be quick about it!”

Needless to say, the two kitchen staff leapt to work like they’d been ordered by an angry dictator under their command and hastily prepared the number three orders. The drink wasn’t that much of a hassle, though, as one button push poured it into a KO Burger-branded cup. The rest of the order eventually came through, and was delivered in a bag to Sour’s window. Now, all she needed to do was wait for him to drive up.

“Well, come on, don’t have all day!” Sour snapped, snapping her fingers repeatedly once more as the guy and his offroader slowly drove up to the window. The music was now ringing in her ears, something about a guy wanting to bitch slap his whore. Sour sighed, really nice piece of society she got here. “Seriously, you’re holding up the damn lines here!”

Of course, that was a lie. There really wasn’t any lines, Sour just wished there was. Maybe in that case, it’d give her something to do aside from dealing with this idiot. Even screaming, crying children were better than this particular scenario. Hell, she’d even go with a druggie!

The guy came up, took the bag, and caught a glimpse of Sour’s perfectly crafted face as he did so. He was almost to the point of drooling with how awestruck he was. Actually, he was drooling on second glance, which Sour immediately regretted.

“So… you wanna—“

“If you’re asking me out, NO.” Sour immediately stopped him. “Just take your food and go. Don’t damage the company quota or we’ll all be in trouble for it,” She glared at him with eyes that could kill. “Also, word of advice, if you want to get a date… Shut that music up, having music that says you want to bitch slap someone. Real turn off asshole. You’re the brand of idiot, who gives idiots like you a bad name.” she stated flatly, channeling her inner Sugarcoat.

The tactic worked, as the customer immediately lurched back and drove off in a squeal of tire smoke, letting the line proceed as normal. Sour just decided to pull her hands downward across her face as the next one drove up. Sour had to blink for a second. In front of her, a dark blue Lamborghini of some make. She really didn’t give much crap about Italian supercar models.

Still, there was something about this one that seemed rather… familiar. Then her eyes caught the Decepticon symbol resting on the car’s hood. She wanted to scream, but realized there was probably no point in that. Not like it’d stop the Con from killing her, really.

“Uh… welcome to KO Burger…” She couldn’t even find her words as she spoke to the Con, knowing full well what was about to come next. She could already hear the blaster barrel’s hum warming up in her head. “How can I help you today?”

“What, can’t someone just want to have a talk with the underappreciated workers of the fast-food industry?” the Con asked, keeping his darkened windows up. “I mean, seriously, you guys really don’t get the credit you deserve. So… uh, keep up the good work kid.” he continued, actually sounding rather sincere. No cracks, no threats, just an actual honest-to-god compliment.

“To be totally honest, I’m on the verge of peeing myself…” Sour whispered as she spoke with the Con. “Decepticons terrify me, so much… especially when I can’t do a thing to stop them…”

“Yeah. We aren’t really the peacekeeping type. Completely understandable,” The con said as it drove closer to her. “But between you and me, I’m kinda on my wit’s end about it too. Listen, whenever your shift—I think they call it—ends, can we talk?”

“About what?” Sour asked. “My demise? A ransom for the others?”

“You’ll find out in due time.” He said before driving off. “Enjoy your day, miss. And don’t stop doing what you’re doing.”

As the next customer drove into the drive-thru, Sour’s voice still stayed diminished and cold, like she was in the arctic, fighting against a sheer cold. Her blood froze to the touch, and her heart rate accelerated. A Con wanted to speak with her, and they were never the bearers of any good news.

“Welcome to… KO Burger. Where every patty’s a… knockout.” She sounded almost like that pink-haired, yellow-skinned girl from Canterlot High she met at the Friendship Games. Butterfly, or something like that. “How can I… help you today?”

Time seemed to go by in a blur, and evening fell and Sour found herself out in the burger joint’s parking lot. As she walked to the nearest bus stop, a car, the same one from before pulled in front of her and parts shifted and changed before the Stunticon -Breakdown, if she remembered correctly- stood in front of her. Sour Sweet was thankful the city seemed to be empty this time of night, no cars on the road or anything. She honestly pitied Fowler with the task he’d have if anyone were to capture a photo of her and Breakdown.

“Glad you decided to come.” Breakdown knelt before her, his violet optics looking directly into Sour’s indigo orbs. “Now, I think it’s high time you and I have a chat. Guess you’d say a talk between two kindred spirits.”

Sour Sweet forced back a barking laugh. “K-Kindred spirits?” she asked, with more than a hint of nervousness, noting the rather large sword strapped to Breakdown’s waist. “No offense intended, but I don’t go shooting up humans, or running them down just because I feel like it.

Breakdown had the decency to wince at that, he supposed he had that one coming. “Right, you’re that Indigo girl’s friend…” he murmured to himself.

“Well, friend being an operative word. Half the time, I’m wanting to punch her in the face,” Sour sighed.

“Sounds like me and most of the other Cons on the ship half the time, really,” Breakdown chuckled bitterly. “Heh, you know why they call me Breakdown right? Not just because I'm a Stunticon, oh no.”

Sour Sweet considered her curiosity peaked, and quirked an eyebrow.

“Best excuse I have for my behavior,” Breakdown continued. “Well, I’m paranoid. You think I’m been given my codename as a joke? Okay, maybe I was, probably by Primus finally gaining a sense of humor, but the thing is… I’d honestly rather be off by myself than with the rest of my team, my Conjunx Endura excluded of course.”

“Conjunx Endura?” Sour asked, eyebrow still raised.

“Basically the Cybertronian version of a spouse, really. Some prefer the term Sparkmate, a holdover from Sentinel Prime’s day. Semantics, really. Suppose you’d probably want to know about the lineage of Primes, but to be honest, your Autobot partners could probably give you a lecture on that better than I could. And we’re getting off topic, and I’m starting to ramble anyhow,” Breakdown laughed nervously before he cleared his throat, or whatever the Cybertronian version was anyways. In a way, Sour was reminded of Twilight with Breakdown, the bot seemed somewhat shy really, and not exactly the open type.

“If I may ask, who’s-”

“My spouse?” Breakdown finished for her. “Knockout. Yeah, that one. Vain, and a bit on the pushy side when you’re interrupting his work, but by Primus I love him. Anyways, been pushing to be transferred to the Scout division for a while now, least that way I could be alone with my thoughts. Sports cars, tend to attract a lot of attention on your planet as I’ve found so switched out paint jobs as well. White is quite the eye-catching color. Least with blue, I can sorta blend in a bit better. Everyone’s just looking at me, back when I had my original paint job. Doesn’t help my paranoia any, as you’d expect. Back on Cybertron, and here as well, just wanted to clear the battlefield if only for my own peace of mind.”

“Well, ever thought about changing alt modes?” Sour suggested, leaning on a planter, and lightning up a cigarette. “I mean, think about it, something big and bulky like a Humvee… Sure, they’d still look at you, but everyone would be screaming, get out of the way in fear of you running them down.”

“That’s an idea... “ Breakdown mused, before he remembered who exactly was giving him this advice. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be an ally to the Autobots? Why are you even giving me the time of day, and not running off in fear?”

“Like you said before, kindred spirits right?” Sour shrugged, breathing out a bit of smoke. “Sure you or some other ‘Con looked up my Yatter feed. So, you know what I’m like. Been diagnosed with a lot of things, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia. I’m basically a shrink’s wet dream,” she stated flatly. “I try, and by God, I try to work through it but sometimes…”

“It’s too much?” Breakdown asked, in a soft and understanding tone.

“Yeah… Pills aren’t much help, and certainly, people shitting on me for my condition and saying I need to be locked up don’t help the issue much. Take, for example, Canterlot High’s local juvie hall poster girl to be, Gilda Gruff. Built like a mountain, and with a temper to match. She’s always been in and out of detention for one reason or another, both her and Lightning Dust. So, one day she decided to grow the balls and mouth off to me. Called me quite a few things, and let’s just say if I hadn’t realized what I was doing at the last moment, would have been the last mistake either of us ever made,” Sour sighed to herself, tossing the cigarette aside. “You know what I told her? Even as I was beating her to a pulp, bruised and bloody?” Sour asked, even as her fists clenched at the sheer thought of Gilda’s smashed in face. “I told her that I wish she’d die, nobody would miss her, not even her family. She was just a delinquent without a home.  And the thing is, when those words were in my head I didn't think I meant them; but when they left my mouth, I realized that I did. If the world thinks you're a monster, what does it matter? The world is wrong. But when you start to think of yourself as a monster…” Sour trailed off, her voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah, know that feeling all too well,” Breakdown mused. “Personally, there’s been times I want to say fuck the world, and end it all. Just shove a sword through my spark. But you know why I haven’t?” 

“W-Why?” Sour asked, her voice trembling as she struggled to fight back tears.

“Because, every time I even consider the notion, I remember I’ve got friends -Offbeat and slightly strange as they are- to keep me here. I mean, I’m considering their feelings. Not to mention Knockout’s. I mean, what’d he think if I just decided to end it all, eh?” Breakdown asked.

“Friends…” Sour breathed, thinking back.

“Personally, I think this movie is highly unrealistic. No one, not even someone after getting ripped apart by a chainsaw would spurt that much blood and gore,” 

“Ah, Trixie sees the problem… You would be rather over-sized for this task, wouldn’t you? Now, I assume it’s as simple as cut the red wire? That’s how it always is in the movies, isn’t it?”

“Seriously, you were like: “This ends here!” and he was like “Never!”

“A berserk serum for machines. How perplexing… Usually, those kinds of things have been developed for humans only. How one has been made for machines, I’ll never know. Have you got a computer screen that shows her vitals?”

“Oh, I more than think. We have to tell Prowl and the rest, we might just know the location of the Decepticon base!”

“Yeah, I got you there,” Sour admitted. “I mean sure, they drive me up the walls at times, but let’s face it, if they didn’t, it’d be all normal and frankly rather boring right?” she remarked, with a small laugh, which Breakdown could only return.

“Normal? What’s normal?” the Stunticon asked before giving her a smile. “Hey, if you ever want to talk, and I mean just about anything or you need someone to yell at… Well, just call me,” he said, before transforming and driving off into the night.

Sour then found her little gauntlets receiving the data for Breakdown’s personal comm channel. She then found herself saying two words she’d never thought she’d utter in a million lifetimes.

“Thanks… Breakdown."
> Part 14: Sympathy for the Devil (Common Ground)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had started off simple enough for Knock Out, he supposed. Just another night drive just after the sun had set, to get away from the constant drama back at the base really. There was Swindle, trying to con everybody out of their energon for cheap and barely functional weapons. His fellow gestalt member Dead End, constantly muttering how the end was nigh. Flamewar, bitching about how she had that damned cop right in her sights before his partners stepped in during the last mission, -Knock Out could only guess that she meant Prowl when they were in Japan or wherever- and of course, last but not least Brawl grumbling about how he didn’t have anything to shoot.

So, it was no small surprise then Knock Out decided to take a drive through the timberlands outside of Canterlot just for some simple peace and quiet. He switched on the radio as he drove, the moonlight shining through the tall pines illuminating the red metal that mostly made up his form. Tall, lonely trees flanked either side of the lonely pass he found himself on, and the moon shone down, in a half moon crescent shape. As he turned a corner, Knock Out found himself inside a tunnel, and he let himself speed up just a little, to hear his own 712 engine roar with a long and lonely howl, the tunnel’s acoustics only amplifying it. Now, Knock Out, unlike most cons actually gave a damn about what alt-mode he chose, and made a point on looking up the different vehicles he had a selection of. Now, some of it could just be applied to his vanity really, but in his mind if you were an automobile you might as well look good while being one, right? The specs on this particular model, labeled by the humans as a One-77 for whatever reason, they’d caught his eye. It bore a naturally aspirated 7,312 cc engine developing near 750 Horsepower. Hardly anywhere near what the vehicles on Cybertron could get up to, but it was just nice enough for his tastes.

He’d read, on the website of the car’s constructors out of idle curiosity that the car, and he remembered the quote directly: “It represents what is possibly the world's most desirable automotive art form, with an immensely rigid lightweight carbon fibre monocoque clad in a seamless bodyshell handcrafted from aluminium at its heart.”

Knock Out couldn’t really argue with that. These humans, he had to admit knew exactly what they were doing at times. He remembered this model had been given awards, such as the Concorso d’Eleganza Design Award for Concept Cars and Prototypes, the ‘Best Design’ award by the UK motoring magazine Auto Express amongst a few others. It played into his vanity a bit more that he now knew that his car design had won a few awards simply by looking damn good.

An old disco song was coming out through his alt-mode’s stereo. Knock Out idly hummed the lyrics to himself out of boredom. He didn’t know quite the reason why, but it… resonated with him. 
“It was a Monday
A day like any other day
I left a small town
For the apple in decay

“It was my destiny
It's what we needed to do
They were telling me
I'm telling you

“I was inside looking outside
The millions of faces
But still I'm alone
Waiting, hours of waiting
Paying a penance
I was longing for home
I'm looking out for the two of us…”

This old station, and the roar of his own engine were the only sounds his audio receptors picked up for the next half-hour or so as he continued his drive along this lonely old trail, nothing but the horizon and the lines on the road in front of him, the music beginning to fade off into the distance as if it was nothing but a dream. Gave him a good amount of time to reflect on how he ended up in his current situation.

“Hands where I can see them Con!” a feminine voice shouted as a white and blue Autobot pointed a pistol at Knock Out, standing over a mangled body with its chest ripped open. Knock Out’s hands were covered in the distinctive sharp blue tint of Energon as he clutched a T-Cog in his hands. Her voice, Strongarm’s voice dripped with a sense of loss, betrayal.

Tires squealing as he tried to force the hurtful memories away, Knock Out continued onwards into the night.

He eventually paused in front of a crystal glass-like lake, its waters calm, peaceful and silent. No movement came from the lake itself. A Canadian lynx, standing on the other side of the waters had stopped by and paused to take a drink on a late-night hunt. It looked up at him and then ran off into the woodland.

“What’s that old phrase?” Knock Out mused. “Oh yes, there's always a bigger fish.” he smirked. He remembered now, he’d been here once before, when he had his battle the Autobot aptly named Road Rage. He winced, feeling the phantom pains of where she’d nearly shoved his own electric prod into his spark casing.

“Even for moi, it seems…” he muttered. He had a feeling what was wrong with Road Rage, he’d seen her condition before on Cybertron. Quite honestly, it was something he wouldn't wish on anyone, not even the slagger who put him in this predicament or even Onslaught himself if only for the simple reasons that they would go even more insane than they already were. 

Sure, Onslaught may have tried to hide it the best he could, but Knock Out knew the truth. He may have normally been the hands-off type as the humans called it, but Onslaught did go into battle at times. He just preferred planning behind the scenes, laying out battle tactics, strategies and the like and watching his soldiers do the dirty work. It was only when the plans got botched up by something, or usually someone did Onslaught join the fray, a fury of gunfire and rage spilling energon right and left, his carefully composed mask of calm tranquility dropped. There was a reason Bruticus was named as such, and feared so, with snippets of Onslaught’s personality chip in his mind. Of course, most combiners really weren’t in their right heads anyways, the stress of five minds working together forcing quite the strain on things.

The simple fact of the matter was if he had access to the right tools, and was allowed near Road Rage and an operating table Knock Out might be able to lend a hand. There was, of course, the simple problems of the Autobots not trusting him to actually give the help required. And why should they? In their optics, he was a deranged doctor who ripped T-Cogs out of the living to give to others.

As he took back to the roads once more, memories flashed through his mind. 

He supposed it all started, with the Genericons, precursors of sorts to the Vehicons. Frontline, cannon fodder. Knock Out, he could tell at once what he was dealing with via the badge alone. Size was larger than the normal, and the colors were a lighter shade of violet. They were on the run, from battle. Knock Out, suffice it to say, was surprised by their boldness. He knew the spines the bots possessed, or what little they had of them anyways. Now, Decepticon deserters were never treated lightly. Not by a long shot. They were often hunted down by the DJD, the Decepticon Justice Division. By justice, one meant unmarked graves. Of course, that assumed there was enough left of their victims to bury. Traitors, deserters, and any other form of transgressors to the Decepticon cause end up on what was called: “The List”. The Division, fanatic enforcers of Megatron’s ideals -And it was worth saying, even he was disgusted by them and called them heretics- were led by ‘Lord’ Deathsaurus. They hunted down the criminals in their ship, the ‘Peaceful Tyranny”. An oxymoron if there ever was one. And then once the target was found, executed in the most brutally messy way possible. Knock Out knew he was inviting trouble to his door as soon as he helped these soldiers, but he did it anyways. Part of the medic’s code, help whoever asked no matter their beliefs, allegiance, sex or creed. 

Now, Knock Out swung to both sides of the fence in his clinic, treating both Autobot and Con alike. He wanted no part of this foolish civil war that was rapidly tearing Cybertron apart. He was neutral and was just one of only three Cybertronians manning the clinic in his home city of Polyhex, alongside Red Alert, and of course, Pharma. 

Pharma, what could be said about him? Well, for one he hated Decepticons with a violent passion and was against letting in these Genericons from the start. But Red Alert and Knock Out managed to swing them to their side of things. Now, both Red Alert and Pharma were amazing doctors, it must be said. Both of them had performed four-way fuel transplants at one point or another, with Pharma actually being one of the donors.

They were as different as night and day, with Red Alert being a pacifist who turned into a hovervan and hated fighting of any kind, while Pharma actually defended the clinic against any trespassers with his sword titled Bleeding Edge. Bit of dark medical humor, at a guess. He preferred to take to the skies in jet form, and often used his magnet to pull Cybertronians out of distress. 

He was about to send the Genericons back out into the streets, Knock Out remembered when Red Alert spoke up.

“They don’t have weapons for the Prime’s sake! They’ve civilianized, and clearly traumatized at that! What do you think they’re going to do, whimper us to death?”  Red Alert pleaded.

“Alright…” Pharma sighed. “Just a simple patch-up job, that should be enough to satisfy Article Seven, and then we’ll turn them over to High Command and ask what should be done with them.”

“And if the DJD show up?” Knock Out had asked. “I’ve heard the Autobot Swerve talk about-”

“That’s all he ever does, talk.” Pharma deadpanned.

“Anyways, Swerve told me he’d seen the aftermath of what happened when Deathsaurus and Tarn got through with one of their… victims. Traumatized him for six months, he wasn’t able to speak in that time. Said it was the worst thing that ever happened to him!” Knock Out exclaimed.

“What, seeing the DJD?” Pharma asked, head tilted and eyebrow raised. He’d been carefully watching this one Genericon, who seemed to be the leader of the trio that had been brought in.  He was a contrast to the other two, to be sure. While they sported dark purples and various shades of gray, the third was much brighter in color tones. Flashy, even.  Starting from his red face and yellow optics, one could look downwards to see the rest of his paint job. His chest was mostly blue save for the silver-white vents near his shoulders and bore a shiny yellow cockpit in the center of his torso plating. His shoulders themselves were blue which stretched down to his elbow joint where it changed to a stark bone white. This color pattern continued throughout the rest of his body.

“No, not being able to speak.” Knock Out corrected him and Pharma chuckled a little. Now Pharma, you hadn’t seen him work. There was a certain fluidity in how he did his healing and mending, you just didn’t build hands like that. Despite his many flaws, Pharma was a master. Any patient that came into his ward, chances are you were probably alive and well even if you had been ripped in half by a Dynobot’s jaws. Pharma was the best medic alive, and that was the end of it.

Knock Out found himself ripped out of his memories by a screeching of tires as something attempted to swerve out of his way, and then he crashed headlong into them with a horrific BANG!






It was with a drowsy consciousness that Knock Out finally awoke, and he realized with horror he’d hit a civilian driving home in her old Bugatti Type 50. He knew the car at once, considering how recognizable it was from any other vehicle on the road. And how could you not? It stuck out, like some dangerous black widow. Befitting of its driver really as Knock Out would later learn. The car was old fashioned but beautiful. It's paint style was a mixture of black and red The sides and hood was all red stretching out almost into the shape of a drop. The rest of the car was a sleek and shiny black, a nice wheel cover stretching up and over the wheels in a very curvy design. The trunk of the car was relatively small compared to the rest of it, sticking out like a jagged lump on its back with two spare tires hanging off of it. The roof curved over the seats smoothly comfortably seating one person. Or at least, that’s the way it should have been before Knock Out smashed into this work of art on wheels. There was another car in the area, one that had pulled up upon seeing the crash, some generic brown sedan. He didn’t care for the model, so he didn’t recognize what or who made it. He did however, recognize exactly who was getting out of the sedan to help however. Agent William Fowler and his daughter, Sunny Flare.

He watched with fascination as Fowler worked diligently on his patient. She was a woman around his age, with cyan skin and spectacles that had fallen off her face. He couldn’t see either of them clear enough, but with the front window gone he could make out some movement as the organic stabilized his patient. 

It amazed him how similar his moves were to his own. Sure, this was hardly a clinic, but he could tell the similarities. He’d been at the operating table, in a war and while this human hardly had anyone trying to kill her, her silent pleas of desperation to her god and the sheer isolation were very similar to what he’d worked with back on Cybertron. It was all-too sickeningly familiar to the mech. He’d wanted to get away from all of this, and yet Onslaught had dragged him on his little crusade simply because Knock Out had nowhere else to go.

Carefully, he gave the human femme a once-over with his onboard scanning equipment. Broken bones, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Severe spinal injuries, and yet somehow she was miraculously clinging to life. Knock Out never gave humans a lot of credit, but after tonight his opinion would probably be changing for the better, he mused. They certainly had this strength about them. Something far stronger than any Cybertronian steel.

Knock Out then noted something else, and it wasn’t his damaged finish. During the crash, he’d been knocked back into a telephone pole as he believed the humans called it and his fuel line had been breached. Combine his energon with that of the already leaking oil from the woman’s car and an explosion could very well be imminent.

Now, if he transformed, he could very well easily leave the human to her fate, but no. He would not. This went against every code in his medical creed. Besides, he caused this with his own carelessness, and now he had to clean up his own mess.

Making his choice, with of shifting of mechanical parts Knock Out transformed, which caused both Fowler and his offspring to stare up at him in quite frankly understandable trepidation.

“Fuel line’s been breached, you three need to get going now!” Knock Out stated quickly, without hesitation. “Be careful with the woman, spinal fractures. She needs proper medical treatment, like yesterday!”

“E-Excuse me?” Fowler barked out as he began moving the woman to his own car. “Me, take orders from a Con?”

“No, take orders from a medic,” Knock Out replied. He’d also noted the way Fowler was carrying the woman, and how he held her tighter than should have been normal for any random person just stopping to help. He also noted that Sunny was casting nervous glances at the woman every now and then. “Now get in!” he barked, even as he transformed back into vehicle mode, and both of his doors opened.

Fowler and Sunny shared a brief look, and then a look back at the trashed car and the fuel leaking from it with electrical lines dangling dangerously above it and beginning to spark. Then, they made their choice.

Fowler, as he wrapped gauze around the woman’s neck handed her over to Sunny as he took the driver’s seat.

“Floor it!” he yelled, and Knock Out didn’t even need to be told as his tires squealed and he peeled off into the distance just as a large fireball was visible in his rearview mirror.

“So… so what do you get out of this?” Sunny asked, her voice growing ever more dangerous with each passing moment even as she stroked the woman’s hair as she rested in her lap. Knock Out winced, he could see where she was definitely Fowler’s daughter. “I mean, aside from helping to clean up a mess you caused, Decepticon.”

“Honestly?” Knock Out mused, even as he drove up the road to Canterlot, his onboard navigation system set to the nearest hospital. “Absolutely nothing, I’m just doing the right thing.”

“Yeah, forgive me if I don’t believe you for a moment,” Fowler deadpanned. “You nearly got my w-Er, Ms. Cinch killed, and the jury’s still out on that I should point out!” he snapped, not noticing his little slip-up.

“So that explains things…” Knock Out mused. “Don’t think I’m stupid, I saw the way both you and your daughter caressed her. Even without your little slip of the tongue, I would have figured it out eventually. So, wife huh?”

“Ex-wife,” Fowler corrected. “Sunny and I… Well, after certain events me and Cinch slipped apart. Sadly, as part of the divorce settlement Cinch gets to see my daughter once a month. I… I uh may have tagged along just to be careful.” he admitted tugging at his tie a little.

“Overprotective father, whose daughter happens to be involved in an Autobot crusade to hunt criminals like me down?” Knock Out sighed even as he rounded a corner. “Yeah, can’t entirely say I blame you for watching her every move.”

“It’s not just that,” Sunny corrected. “Doubtful you remember this, but there was an… incident last year at this big event called the Friendship Games. Well, I call it the Fiendship Games but that’s beside the point.”

“Been surfing the web, or at least the darknet. Rumors abound of two magical girls going at it, and I caught Youtube videos of vines emerging from portals around a dirt race track for bikes,” Knock Out admitted. “I assume Ms. Cinch was involved in this somehow?”

“Well, indirectly, yes. She was the former Principal of my high school, Crystal Prep. Me and my friends, I’m ashamed to admit helped Cinch push this other friend of ours -if we can even call her that after the shit we pulled- into just using a power she didn’t understand.” Sunny sighed in a mixture of self-disgust, and guilt.

“And that led to the magical girl battle, right?” Knock Out guessed.

“Yeah,” Sunny continued. “Suffice it to say, nobody was pleased with all of this. Including my dad. He divorced my mom soon after he found how much danger I’d been put in,” 

“Must have been rough,” Knock Out sighed. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s fine,” Sunny replied, brushing his concerns off. “Glad to be out from my mother’s thumb actually,”

“We’d been growing apart for years anyhow,” Fowler picked up the story “Both of us, getting far too wrapped up in our jobs for our own good. A divorce was inevitable really. Her putting my only daughter in danger was just the last straw. But, all the same really…”

“You still care for her, right?” Knock Out surmised.

“Course I do, she used to be my wife at one point!” Fowler told him in return. “Sure, I’m a cold-hearted bastard at times, but I’m not emotionless. Now, can you do me a favor and shut up and drive?”

Knock Out sighed, and complied. Eventually, not even an hour later they pulled into a nearby hospital. The former neutral turned Decepticon watched anxiously as doctors and nurses rushed out upon seeing Ms. Cinch’s state and put her on a gurney before rushing her inside with Fowler following. Sunny stayed, however, and patted Knock Out’s hood when nobody was watching.

“Never thought I’d say this to a Con, but… thank you,” she whispered and looked as if she was about to dart off to her father’s side but before she did so she added: “I’ll be sure to tell the Autobots about this, maybe put in a good word for you okay?”

‘Well, that was unexpected…” he muttered to himself in pure, unabridged shock. Even as he watched Cinch get led inside, his mind flashed back to years long since passed.







Knock Out had been growing suspicious for a while now. It was near what he knew to be the war’s end. Slag, if he’d heard correctly the war was already over now that Megatron and Optimus Prime had sat down for peace talks. And so life went on, at least on the surface of the Polyhex Clinic. Like I said, Knock Out had been growing suspicious for a while now.

Tarn was supposed to have burnt out his T-Cog long ago, from rapid over usage to the drug called Nuke. No thanks to this over-reliance of the stuff, it was unsurprising to no-one when the infamous warrior’s Cog finally went. It was a great load off everyone’s minds. And yet, Knock Out had heard several nasty rumors that Tarn’s very distinctive tank alt-mode had been sight several times all over parts of Cybertron, ranging from the Sea of Rust towards the now-rebuilt city of New Kaon. The rest of the Decepticon Justice Division had been either rounded up, or destroyed long ago. Helex, Kaon, Tesarus, Vos, they were all in prison. ‘Lord’ Deathsaurus, had his spark blown out personally by Megatron’s fusion cannon after a prolonged and quite legendary aerial battle for supremacy.

He had famously stated after walking over the Con’s rusted corpse: “Justice? Please, give me a break. Now that’s just bad comedy. Now, let this stand as an example to anyone who gets the intelligent idea of filling his shoes.”

That swiftly put an end to things. The Decepticon Justice Division, in its most infamous state, was no more. The last of an ugly, dirty era had simply been swept away like rust in the wind. If Tarn had any sense, then he’d headed for the hills. But apparently, Tarn’s lust of the spillage of energon overcame any sense of reasoning he might have had, and now he’d been supposedly spotted once more, this time in Iacon of all places. The former Autobot capital. Knock Out had to give him points for sheer outright nerve. Tarn, whatever his many faults must have had bearings of sheer chrome steel. No, make that titanium.

But the obvious question was, where was Tarn getting his T-Cogs from? Knock Out had a sneaking suspicion, and he didn’t like it one bit. But it had to be confirmed. For the past few cycles, Pharma’s personal ward had been deadlocked to all but his personal handprint.

No small problem really. Normally, he wouldn’t think of doing this, but time was of the essence. Pulling out a small pistol he kept for self-defense, Knock Out blasted the door open. In front of him was Pharma, hands swapped out for chainsaws and also in front of him was Red Alert of all bots, chest sliced open and the rest of his body mangled beyond almost all recognition. The only way Knock Out was able to identify him, in fact, was the coloring and the distinctive paint job the former Protectobot bore.

“I should have known…” Knock Out growled, switching one of his hands out for a medical saw on pure instinct. The other hand still clutched his pistol. “You’ve been awfully quiet as of late. Thought it strange you stopped taking patients when you yourself said: “Life must persist.” At first, I thought it was because the war ended, but then the occasional patient showed up in my clinic and every so often, after I’d turned all the lights off for the night I’d come back next morning and find them missing. Now some, I would assume they’d gotten better but others? Backstreet, remember him? He was infected with the rust virus! There was no way he would survive the night! I’d just tried to keep him placated while his spark slowly faded away. I often wondered what happened to him. Now I know.”

“Of course you realize there’s no way you can prove any of this. No security cameras in the entire clinic. Doctor-Patient confidentiality, you must understand. Besides, who likes Big Brother watching them anyhow?” Pharma sneered. “So yes, I admit I took up Tarn’s offer to try and find replacements for his cog. Rare condition, but treatable. Trouble is, he doesn’t want the treatment, not buying what I’m selling. He just wants his next fix.”

“So, what? You started selling organs to Tarn just for a bit of cash on the side!?!” Knock Out exclaimed, appalled. 

“In the beginning, despite my best efforts, patients just kept dying on me. Demand increased,” Pharma stated calmly, with a small sigh. “A pity really...”

“So you started killing them.” Knock Out said in disgust, lunging for Pharma with his saw-blade only for the medic to block it with his own weapons. 

“No, I started making judgments on their survival rate,” Pharma corrected him, even as sparks flew, before he kicked Knock Out backwards into a wall. A pistol clattered the floor, and Pharma crushed it under his heel strut. “Sometimes if they really were clinging to life, I just… let’s say helped them relax their grip,” he remarked, his voice silent as the grave before he smirked and held a hand up to his audio receptors. “Oh, you hear that? Sirens. Police on are their way. That little door you blasted in? Tripped the silent alarm. While we’ve been standing here talking, they’ve come running. Now, obviously, I can’t let them find me, so… toodles.”

With that, he vanished through a trapdoor in the floor. Knock Out screamed in rage, and frantically rushed over to Red Alert. 

“Listen… Listen buddy, gonna fix you up real fast you understand? I’ll… I’ll get you proper help!” Knock Out cried as he desperately tried to mend what he could with a nearby laser scalpel and using his other hand to try and refit Red Alert’s T-Cog.

But it was all for naught, as Red Alert’s optics began to fade, and his body began to turn a distinctive dull gray color. And then, he heard the sound of a weapon cocking. 

“Hands where I can see them Con!” a feminine voice shouted as a white and blue Autobot pointed a pistol at Knock Out, standing over a mangled body with its chest ripped open. Knock Out’s hands were covered in the distinctive sharp blue tint of Energon as he clutched a T-Cog in his hands. Her voice, Strongarm’s voice dripped with a sense of loss, betrayal. And why shouldn’t it? After all, he’d saved her once. He remembered the day all too well.

There’d been a police shootout not too far up the road, some civil dissidents and anarchists and both Strongarm and her boss, Prowl had been caught in the crossfire. Prowl was none the worse for wear, a few patch-ups from Red Alert had been all that he’d needed but Strongarm on the other hand? 

Well, that was a different story entirely. A few unlucky shots near her spark casing, and she was bleeding energon profusely. It was only with the fast work of Knock Out that she’d survived the operation, and that wasn’t counting the long road to recovery she’d been on just trying to learn to walk and transform again. Knock Out was there as well, helping her every step of the way alongside her Conjunx Endura. Ironically, that happened to be the very same Genericon colored in that flashy red, white, and blue paint job -Nacelle, he’d learned his name was- that Strongarm had bonded to. 

And now both officers stood holding Knock Out at gunpoint, and cuffing him. Well, trying to anyways. He had, just before he’d been cuffed, managed to shift to vehicle mode and dart out the front doors of the clinic. Knock Out, now he knew this wouldn’t make him look good in the eyes of the law, but who would believe him that Pharma was the true culprit? The answer, nobody. He was a star in the eyes of Cybertron, and the sheer idea of him doing organ transplants for wanted criminals was simply unbelievable in anyone’s mind.

He had nowhere to run, and he knew it. Well, nowhere to run except into the claws of the former Elite Guardsman and now wanted criminal and Combaticon Onslaught.

In the end, he wondered if it was worth it. Just running like he did. Now his reputation was ruined, and the only place he had solace was in a wrecked ship full of almost completely insane Decepticons and various other criminals who would give Pharma a run for their money. Out of the frying pan, and into the fire as it were.

Eventually, he made his decision and sent a coded transmission on an old Autobot frequency channel saying one simple thing.

“I’m turning myself in.”
> Part 15: A Matter of Trust
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Japan… Japan…” Perceptor muttered, as he paced back and forth in front of a holographic map of the world with what looked to be a Cybertronian-Sized pointer. “Why Japan? Why not Texas, North Dakota or somewhere else closer to the base of Decepticon operations? Petroleum in particular is much better for conducting energy to Energon transformation than nuclear fuel rods anyways. They could have hit anywhere so why Japan in particular?”

“Don’t you think maybe you’re overthinking this a tad?” Road Rage asked, shrugging her shoulders. “I mean, it could just be random right? Just hit somewhere with a lot of energy. Hell, they could have hit Iran or Canada if they wanted. With access to a groundbridge, they could go anywhere in the world. Doesn’t need to be rhyme or reason for this sort of thing.”

Perceptor sighed. “Yes, perhaps you’re quite right. Maybe I need a power-down, been wracking my brain for days, a quick recharge would do me some good I suppose. Let someone else do the thinking for a change. Between this, and working as a medic for you and everyone else…”

Road Rage patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Yeah, I understand. Nobody would blame you if you just curled up in your berth for a recharge for a few cycles. Relax, everything will sort itself out, a cure for my… condition will arise sooner or later. Just have to be optimistic about this sort of thing.”

Suddenly, the commlinks on both of the Autobot’s wrists began flashing.

“Huh, curious…” Perceptor mused, raising an eyebrow. “Old Autobot High-Frequency embedded message, nobody’s used this type of thing since the War.”

“Old war vet on Earth, just wanting to strike up a chat, and saying: “How’s it been?” Seems unlikely.” Road Rage remarked, in a deadpan tone.

“Very funny,” Perceptor replied. “Might as well play it.”

Before he could reach for the play button as it were, Road Rage halted him.

“Wait, we should play this smart. More than likely, it’s a Decepticon, one of Onslaught’s group. Only war vets aside from them are in this base, as far as we know.”

“Agreed, I’ll contact Prowl and have him and Swerve join me with this impromptu meeting. If by chance someone’s contacting us via this old way of communication, they wouldn’t want to meet in public, meaning this is most likely a trap. Best to have an extra blaster or two on hand. Just in case.” Perceptor noted.

“And yet, if you go with Prowl and Swerve,” Road Rage pointed out. “We’d be sending over half our forces to this meeting site, including our sole medic.”

Perceptor laid a hand on her shoulder and smirked. “I was a War vet as well, I know how to handle myself in combat. And besides, only medic? Yeah, I’ve been training you how to patch up a bot, so I’m not worried.” he stated. With that, he pressed play.

“I’m turning myself in.” came Knock Out’s distinctive voice, catching both Perceptor and Road Rage off guard, both sets of optics blinking in surprise.

“...Well, wasn’t expecting that.” Road Rage remarked. “But, only one thing for it I suppose. Might as well hear him out, presuming, of course, he doesn’t rip our sparks out.”

“And that’s why…” Perceptor replied, holding up a long barreled rifle-like device that sparked with electricity at the end. “It never hurts to come prepared.”

So, it was with great caution that Perceptor opened up a Groundbridge to Knock Out’s location, a deep forest outside Canterlot City limits and with Swerve and Prowl in tow, transformed into their respective vehicle modes and ventured forth. Now, Perceptor had recently gained himself a new vehicle mode, a half-track army vehicle figuring if he was going to be out in the field more, he’d need something a bit quicker and perhaps more rugged than his old microscope mode. Wasn’t really as subtle, but more practical and allowed him to mount weapons such as his newly crafted stun-rifle atop his vehicle mode’s roof.

“Wait wait wait,” Knock Out said, holding his hands up in a surrendering motion. “As much as I can feel the love for me practically radiating off you guys, is there really a need for such heavy artillery?” he drawled out, looking at the stun-rifle nervously.

“Oh, this?” Swerve asked, transforming to Robot mode and gesturing to the stun-rifle which he’d soon grabbed. “The Electrobooster? Won’t hurt… much. Probably just put you in agonizing pain, something a trifle below excruciating pain.” he said with a small smirk.

Knock Out let out a small squeak at this, making a noise that sounded suspiciously like “Spare my finish!”

“He’s kidding,” Perceptor said, transforming back to bot mode. “Which is exactly why we’re not letting him use it.” he continued, in a more firm tone, taking the weapon away from Swerve.

“We’re not going to harm you,” Prowl reassured, audibly groaning out in pain as parts shifted and moved as he turned into Robot mode. “Not unless you warrant us doing so. Hopefully, it won’t have to come to that.”

“Speaking of harm,” Knock Out remarked. “Bet that hurts, transforming. Like a fire burning inside you. Not like a spark, warm and comforting like starlight, but like a sheer inferno, a blazing forest if you will excuse me getting poetic.”

“It tingles.” Prowl remarked.

“Tingles?” Knock Out asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “I really don’t think that’s the word I’d use when you’ve been hit by one of Flamewar’s Virus Arrows. More like, agh, excruciating pain that I’m going to die from. Take a Medic’s word on that. Believe me, you’d be better off in the long run.”

“Can we just get to the point?” Prowl asked, ignoring him. “Why exactly, are you so keen on offering yourself up to us?”

“Well, not like I have much choice in the matter, y’know. Better, in the long run, I just let myself get captured, then probably killed in mid-battle and sent to the great big scrapheap in the sky.”

“You do realize you’d probably be put in stasis lock for the rest of your life, after what you pulled right?” Prowl asked.

“Better than being dead!” Knock Out refuted. “Besides, did a bit of reading, and yes I admit I’ve been watching White Collar when this crossed my mind -Dunno if you ever saw that show, really riveting- but can’t you lot put on one of those newfangled tracking bracelets while I work off my crimes?”

“Well…” Prowl trailed off. “It has been considered for a few of you, the ones who did less horrendous crimes. Pretty sure mass murder counts as horrendous though.”

“...Just a thought, and I was framed for that anyways,” Knock Out continued, gaining a few disbelieving snorts in the process. “Besides, you need me,” he said, playing his last card. This conversation wasn’t going the way he’d imagined it in his head. “That virus of Road Rage’s? One that’s now slowly making its way through your system as well,” he continued, looking directly at Prowl, and both Swerve and Perceptor stared at the bot in shock not privy to this little detail. “I know exactly where it came from, who made it.”

It didn’t take long for Prowl to make up his mind.

“Fine then, you’re coming with us,” he said, cuffing the Decepticon, before a loud metallic shriek filled the air, and everyone looked up to see a massive griffon, orange cyberglyphics glowing in the moonlight standing atop a tall cliffside.

“Oh, slag…” Knock Out squeaked out. “Maybe have forgot to mention this, but Onslaught likes to keep tabs on his boys when they’ve been gone too long. Meet Darksteel, his personal hunter. My advice. Run.”

Advice that everyone was all too happy to heed when they saw Darksteel’s throat glowing orange, before the entire area was covered in a wall of flame that the foursome just narrowly escaped…






It took several odd minutes for Hound to comprehend what he was seeing. A trio of Autobots, his commander amongst thing, leading Knock Out into their base via Groundbridge. It took several more minutes for Hound’s voicebox to finally begin functioning once more.

And even then, he couldn’t really manage anything that could be considered coherent speech of any sort.

“I… Er… Um…” Hound stuttered out. Swerve chuckled, as he idly wondered if he could just walk up to Hound in his current state and with one light shove, tip him over. He thought the better of it, the ensuing lecture from Prowl wasn’t worth it.

“...Well, I’ll be damned,” Road Rage murmured to herself, in a disbelieving tone almost too soft to be heard. “He was actually sincere about it.” 

“What, you disbelieved moi?” Knock Out asked, still rather annoyed he was in cuffs. “I mean, does this look like a face who’d lie to you?”

“...Gee, lemme think about that.” Road Rage deadpanned.

“Trust me, the jury’s still quite out on whether he really is telling the truth, or just wants to lead the ‘Cons to our base,” Prowl confirmed, shoving the nervous Decepticon forwards.

“See, this is why I was reluctant to come to you guys in the first place!” Knock Out exclaimed, his voice coming out as a sputter. “Sensing a real lack of trust you guys have around here!”

“For good reason.” Road Rage replied, narrowing her eyes at the known murderer. “Red Alert, a friend of mine, name sound familiar? It should. Friendliest Spark this side of Cybertron, and you murdered him! My fiance!”

Knock Out’s optics widened in shock. That… he hadn’t known about his old friend. He had known he was about to undergo the bonding ceremony, (And how could he not, as the medic talked about it to no end) but not who he was being bonded to.





Maccadam’s Old Oil House: Cybertron:

“Hey-ho! Three cheers for Red Alert!” a call went out amongst the bar, louder and rowdier than usual. And that was saying something. “For that paranoid old glitch-spark finally getting himself hitched!” a red Autobot, with the symbol for the Cybertronian Fire Squadron shouted, raising his mug full of hot oil skywards.

“One ‘ell of a bachelor party, gotta say,” Red Alert said, the mostly white and red Cybertronian commented. “Really guys, this isn’t all necessary though. Seriously, it’s not.”

“Only the best for my friend,” Knock Out said, slapping his fellow medic on the back. “And besides, what do you mean it’s not necessary?” he asked, using air quotes. “I’m sorry, but Inferno?” he asked, turning to the Fire Squad bot. “Tell my friend here that is absolutely indeed necessary!”

“Quite right,” Inferno agreed. “I mean, you’ve been saving lives for… Oh, Primus knows how long so you deserve one Hell of a bachelor party I say! Plus, I got a bet on with Falcia that I can beat her Hen Night, and I do not intend to lose!”

“Shame Pharma couldn’t make it,” Nacelle sighed sadly, the Seeker’s wings slumping in disappointment. “He would have loved this kind of thing… probably.”

“Yeah, bot’s always on call, never takes breaks,” Inferno sighed. “What’s that old saying? All work and no play…?”

“Now tell us man,” Knock Out asked. “You’ve been keeping mum on this bot you intend to bond with for weeks, so you have got to tell us who she is now!”

“Sorry, you’ll just have to wait for the wedding day,” Red Alert smirked.

“...I can’t see for the life of me why you passed up that Chief of Security job at Polyhex,” Inferno muttered, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “You’d do such a good job at keeping secrets.”

“Told you why before, and I’ll tell you again,” Red Alert remarked. “Would have driven me mad, probably made me paranoid that everyone was out to get me. I mean, remember Nitro ‘Mad-Optic’ Zeus? Good name for a bot, but the man was as paranoid as a Petrorabbit! Seriously, he thought Decepticons were hiding around every corner before he finally retired. And I think he still does!”

That gained a few chuckles, and Inferno responded with a: “Point.”

“Well,” Nacelle remarked. “I’m just glad that we’re all here to celebrate this momentous occasion! The day before Red Alert finally loses his freedom forever! Kept on a leash and chain!”

“...Funny, I thought you liked that.” Inferno smirked.

“S-Shaddup!” Nacelle stammered out, as everyone else laughed. 

Knock Out smiled wistfully. Ah, those were the days, right before everything went to the slaggin’ Pit. Before he had the stupid idea of facing Pharma alone and ending up on the run and getting ganged up with Onslaught’s bunch. Sniffling softly to himself as he wondered what Red Alert had to be thinking of him now, he regained his composure before anyone could notice.

“Anyways, just to be safe because we now have a known criminal in our base,” Road Rage continued, eyeing Knock Out warily. “Where’s the kids? Really not a fan of them coming here at the moment.”

“Most of ‘em, in bed I’d suspect at this hour,” Perceptor answered for her. “I mean, they’ve got classes in the morning… I think. Lost track of the days. Don’t know if it’s a weekend as they call it or not. Either way, won’t be showing up soon.”

“You said most, that implies…” Road Rage trailed off.

“Yeah, I did get some distressing news,” Hound spoke up, his voice box finally choosing that moment to completely repair itself. “Apparently, Ms. Sunny Flare was coming home from her mother’s, and her mom’s car got hit dead-on by this flashy sports car.”

“W-What?” Road Rage stammered out. “She’s alright, isn’t she? Tell me she’s alright!” she exclaimed, grabbing Hound by the torso plating.

“Yes, Sunny’s fine,” Hound reassured. “Her mother… sadly she’s in critical condition. In surgery right now, from what Feral reports. He and Swordbreaker are keeping an eye on things, case the Cons get any ideas and try to attack one of our charges’ loved ones.”

“Thank Solus…” Road Rage replied, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. 

Knock Out, he felt more than a pang of guilt. He caused this, and he knew it. If Cinch was lucky to survive, she’d probably be paralyzed for life at best. “By the Allspark…” he muttered. “If only I’d…”

“If only you’d what?” Road Rage growled, turning on him with a dangerous edge in her voice as she realized. “You caused this, didn’t you? Should have known, flashy sports car? Who else could it have been then but a Stunticon!”

“Ex-Stunticon,” Knock Out clarified, knowing that really wasn’t helping his case. “And for the record, if it wasn’t for me, Cinch might not have even made it to causality!”

“Yeah, like I’m supposed to believe that!” Road Rage snarled, this close to shoving a fist through Knock Out’s spark casing. “Ex-Stunticon, what the slaggin’ Pit is that supposed to mean!?!”

“Means I was unceremoniously drafted into Shockwave’s combiner program, what do you think?” Knock Out yelled back. “Experimented on, had my parts turned inside out just so I could form a part of some mad gestalt called Menasor! Do you know what that feels like? DO YOU?” he roared.

“...” was Road Rage’s only response.

“Yeah, I thought not.” Knock Out grumbled. “So don’t you go lecturing me about things you don’t understand!”

“Simmer down, the both of you,” Fowler’s voice said, as twin doors hissed open and the somewhat portly African-American stepped inside. “Whatever else you may think of Knock Out, he’s not lying about saving my ex-wife’s life. That much, at least, is true.”

“So, if that’s true… What else about him is?” Perceptor pondered to himself. “Could he really be telling the truth about being framed?”

“Wait, so you weren’t lying about that?” Road Rage asked in shock.

“Um, no. Look, I may be scum, that much is true as well as I did throw myself in with Onslaught, but I’m nowhere near the level of scum it would take to leave an innocent woman to die via a car accident I caused just because I wasn’t keeping my optics to the road!” Knock Out said in reply, as Prowl uncuffed him before putting a tracking bracelet on Knock Out’s ankle.

“Now, may look garish, but it won’t hinder your transformation any. All it allows us to do is keep an optic on you, and your whereabouts. Can’t go within two miles of whoever holds the tracker, and to help you two get along better…” Prowl trailed off, looking directly at Road Rage.

Needless to say, neither was happy with this arrangement.

“OH SLAG NO!”

“YOU WANT TO PUT ME WITH HER!?!”

Prowl smirked. “Only logical choice, in my mind. If Road Rage shoots you, she’ll face charges of killing a prisoner in custody,” he continued, and Road Rage swore to herself. Prowl, he’d thought that one out good, the magnificent little bastard. “Besides, if my theory is correct, whatever Flamewar got me with, it's probably the same thing that’s currently coursing through Road Rage’s body. It just hasn’t built up to the same level as the virus within her. If you can manage to help Road Rage, you can help me.” the commander continued.

“Er yeah… slight problem with that. You, I might be able to help now, but Road Rage…?” Knock Out trailed off, and sucked in a breath. “Like you said, the virus is further along. Only one who would have the cure for the stage it’s in now? Flamewar herself.”

“Well, then we just have to capture her, and pry it from her fingers,” Fowler commented. “Simple as that. I’d imagine Onslaught would want his medic back, so we do an exchange. Flamewar’s cure, for Knock Out.”

“No,” Prowl refuted. “I’d rather not have anyone get caught up in the possible ensuing crossfire, especially the one who might hold the cure to saving us both,” he stated, putting an end to the matter.

“Then how else are we supposed to get ahold of Flamewar?” Road Rage argued. “I mean, we can’t just chance her coming out on the ‘Cons next fuel raid and hope we get lucky!”

“Simple, we offer her a prize she can’t resist. Fowler’s idea, while flawed does have some merit. Hound, if you will?”

The scout nodded and used his pistol to create a projection of Knock Out, accurate to the very last detail. 

“We fake an exchange…” Fowler smirked. “I like it.”

Knock Out walked up to his copy, and trailed a finger down it’s faceplates. “Hmm, doesn’t capture every aspect of my… elegance but I suppose it’ll do,” he said, a finger on his chin and in a pose resembling that of an artist observing his work. “So, forgery and identity theft? Didn’t know a cop was willing to break the law just to save one Con, or more accurately his own skin.”

Prowl let out a small growl. “Get him out of here.”







A few days passed, and the Shadowbolts and Trixie remained unaware there was now a Decepticon in the metaphorical King Arthur’s court as it were. Wouldn’t stay that way, of course.

Come the end of Monday’s school hours, and the Shadowbolts who had recently transferred over to Canterlot High a week or so back to get closer to their two newest friends in Trixie and Twilight were greeted to an unexpected sight.

“...Please tell me I’m seeing things,” Sugarcoat said, as both she and Twilight took off their glasses and rubbed them clean as they gazed upon a very familiar crimson One-77 in the school’s parking lot. But when they put them back on… “Nope, still there.”

“...Has to be a nightmare, has to be…” Trixie mumbled to herself as both Sour Sweet and Lemon opened and closed their mouths wordlessly, doing remarkable impressions of fish.

“K-Knock Out?” Sunny asked nervously, as she walked up to the car. “That you?”

“Girl, what are you doing?” Sour Sweet asked, as she grabbed Sunny by the arm. “You got a death wish or something?” she exclaimed, going into ‘Sour’ mode as everyone called it.

“Call it a matter of trust,” Sunny replied, wrenching herself free from her friend’s grip. “Remember a few days back, when I said this Cybertronian helped get my mom to the hospital?”

“...Right, you didn’t say who did you?” Lemon mumbled to herself. “You’re telling us it was Knock Out?”

“Well, we can’t exactly judge Knock Out by branding, now can we?” Sugarcoat asked. “We’ve not exactly seen much of him, only heard about him through Road Rage’s stories. Or story, to be more accurate.”

“Where he tried to KILL her!” Trixie piped up.

“After she attacked him, it was self-defense.” Sugarcoat pointed out, shutting Trixie up for the moment.

“Glad to see one of you has some actual intelligence aside from Fowler’s daughter,” Knock Out finally spoke, his headlights flashing with every word. None of the Bots trusted him enough yet to install a holographic driver, so he’d just darkened his windows. “But yes, for the time being, I’m your newest chaperone. If not one in chains.”

“And what exactly do you mean by that?” Sour asked.

“Tracking anklet, only allowed to go within two miles of whoever holds the tracker,” Knock Out explained. “Your ‘Bot friends, gave it to Road Rage of all Cybertronians. Not the best choice when I’m out and about though, giving you guys lifts home. So, Prowl’s got it right now, make sure I don’t make a run for it. Not that I would, of course, considering the moment I try your pal Swordbreaker’s been freely allowed to smash in my Spark, the brute. He’s not a cop and just a merc for hire so… loopholes.” Knock Out explained, visibly shuddering.

Not too far away, a familiar Toyota Tundra sat lurking as if it was ready to pounce.

“So, shall we get going?” Knock Out asked, his passenger door opening. Sunny took a deep breath and stepped in.

“I just don’t trust him, not one bit,” Twilight had this to say, as she sat comfortably in Swordbreaker’s passenger seat, Sugarcoat and Trixie behind her. Sour, Lemon and Indigo had opted to be braver, and ride alongside Sunny inside Knock Out. Not like they’d get questioned by the cops anyways, as it happened Indigo had recently passed her driver’s test. “It’s like sticking your head in a lion’s open mouth. You’re going to get it bitten clean off.”

“Okay, normally I’m not the first one to trust someone, and I sure as hell don’t with Knock Out,” Trixie put in. “But maybe, just maybe Sunny and the others are safe. I mean, he saved Cinch’s life, so that has to count for something right?”

“I suppose…” Twilight whispered. “But still, he’s a Decepticon!”

“Not entirely,” Swordbreaker explained, his dashboard lighting up as he spoke in his deep rumbling tone. “At least, not by choice. During the war, he was a neutral medic, never took a side. Healed both Bots and Cons. He only ran to Onslaught, after he was accused of mass murder. Something, I myself have always doubted to be frank. He was only found at the scene of the crime, and he’d never shown any reservations about killing anyone before this happened. In fact, he abhorred it from why my twin Strongarm told me. It took her by surprise, finding him butchering Cybertronians and stealing their T-Cogs. It all was too convenient really, finding him in an area with no security cameras. My sister, has this tendency to jump to conclusions far too often.” he sighed sadly, and one could get the feeling that if he was in Robot Mode he’d be shaking his head in disappointment. 

“Really?” Trixie’s mouth dropped in shock. “That does sound like a convincing story that would prove his innocence. Evidence, from the sounds of it, all sounds circumstantial.”

Everyone looked at her.

“What, Trixie’s mom was a cop, don’t judge her!” she exclaimed. “Besides, this could all backfire on you hugely if you keep giving him reasons not to trust you. Take the ankle bracelet off, see what happens. Good chance he won’t run.”

“Good chance he may,” Swordbreaker refuted. “But you do have a point, I’ll talk to Prowl and maybe see if we can extend Knock Out’s leash a little.”

Small victories, Trixie thought to herself. Small victories.
> Part 16: Discovery
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taunton Bay, Hancock County

September was one of those months beloved by Maine-dwellers, especially those on the coastal areas like the citizens of Canterlot. The city itself, nestled deep within woodlands wasn’t that far from Mt. Desert Island and so it really wasn’t that far of a drive from the city itself to the coastlines. Certainly not that far of a drive if you had access to the Groundbridge.

So, there the girls were, packed for a day at the beach along some lonely coastline in 70 or something degree weather. All in all, seemed like another normal day, the kind they’d been slowly getting used to before the Autobots and Decepticons came along. It was a fortunate week as well timing wise, as the teachers had given the students of CHS and Crystal Prep a week off from school, while they prepared their new lessons.

“Ahh, peace and quiet!” Trixie smiled as she adjusted her sunglasses, soaking up the sun’s rays while under a small umbrella. “Exactly what both the doctor, and Trixie herself ordered.”

Turning herself so that she was resting on her towel, back fully exposed to the sun, she turned the dial on a nearby radio station.

“Okay, okay! This is your favorite paranoid UFOlogist and government conspiracy nut, Xiraia coming at you live from my little station in Canterlot!” the constantly cheerful -If not a little nuts- African-American exclaimed. “Now, Maine. It has it’s share of legends right? Anyone hear of the  Monster of Pocomoonshine Lake? Yes yes, a funny name I know, nowhere near as dignified as Nessie or the Ogopogo but we have an actual, live sea serpent swimming about! 30 feet long or so, big guy old Poco. Odd thing, we’ve been getting sightings from what I hear around the coasts of some snake-like creature some odd years back, and they just started up again recently. Now, I know Poco’s supposed to slither onto land occasionally -Because really, who’d want to stay in some cold lake?- but the coasts? Pretty far removed from Pocomoonshinelake. Maybe the sighters are all drinking some ‘Shine themselves. Yes, even I have my doubts about this one.”

“Why do you insist on listening to that rot?” Twilight had to ask, sitting down next to Trixie. Unlike her girlfriend, she was much more conserved in her attire and was dressed in a simple one-piece.

“Hey, it’s interesting stuff!” Trixie exclaimed, holding up a bottle of suntan lotion. “Here, slather some of this on Trixie’s back eh?”

Blushingly, Twilight did so as Trixie continued. “Besides, Xiraia’s been right before has’t she?” the stage magician remarked.

“Yes, about aliens. Lake monsters, another thing entirely.” Twilight deadpanned. She was really hoping her red face wouldn’t show to either Trixie or her friends. She’d never hear the end of it.

“Ya never know…” Trixie trailed off. “Besides, between you and me? I find cryptids absolutely fascinating stuff. Sure, might not be real, might be but they’re fun to think about and speculate over a cup of Sahlab no?”

Twilight did often forget Trixie’s parents did have an Egyptian heritage at least on her mother’s side, wasn’t something her girlfriend brought up often. 

“I suppose, bit of an escape from reality. Like Dungeons and Dragons really.” Twilight shrugged.

“Please, keep your nerdy board games to yourself, Twilight Sparkle!” Trixie teased lightly, booping her on the nose making Twilight’s face scrunch up all cutely.

“Okay, I will, Lulamoon, the Ranger of Elvenwood!” Twilight teased, getting some of her own back.

“Et tu Twilight, et tu…” Trixie sighed. “Oh, she is so totally whipped is she not?” she continued, faking despair.

“Yes, yes you are…” Twilight smirked, keen on letting her know it.

“Hey Trixie, Twilight!” a familiar voice called, as Indigo rushed by alongside Sour. “Sure you’re not interested in going for a dive? Let me tell you, best way to lose yourself for a bit, open water.”

“No thanks, I’ve seen Jaws and I know what happens to swimmers and divers!” Trixie called back to them, the two carrying surfboards in their hands, Indigo wearing an athletic wetsuit with short sleeved arms and legs and Sour dressed in a cherry-toned one-piece that filled her figure out nicely.

“...You watch way too many movies, Trix,” Sour sighed. “Besides, it’s Tiger Sharks you’d have to worry about, not Great Whites. They eat anything.”

“A-Anything?” Trixie squeaked out. “And does this include little stage magicians named Trixie?”

“Probably. Tires and even metal have been found in Tiger Shark stom-” Sour shrugged, before Indigo smacked her firmly upside the head making her let out a little yelp.

“Sour, anyone ever tell you that you don’t have a way with words?” the soccer star deadpanned. “See, you’re scaring the girl!” she said, gesturing to Trixie who was rocking back and forth in a fetal position.

“Sorry, been watching old reruns of Shark Week again. I get bored, okay?” Sour shrugged. “And nothing beats boredom then watching sharks munch things to itty bitty pieces!”

“Not. Helping!” Indigo hissed, before looking skywards muttering to herself: “Why do I even bother sometimes? God pity the girlfriend or boyfriend you end up with…”

“Relax Trixie,” a new voice popped in, quite chipper. “Tiger Sharks, Great Whites, they live off in warmer waters like down near Florida or something. Sure as Hell won’t find any down here in Maine!”

“Juniper!” Twilight exclaimed, rushing up to hug the girl who’d clad herself in a green two-piece. “What… I mean what are you doing here?”

“Well, I suppose I could ask you the same thing yourself Twilight,” Juniper Montage said. “But if you must know, my uncle Canter Zoom, he’s out here down the coast a little ways shooting this film called “The Legend of Desert Island, a Fisherman’s Tale." Some low-budget horror thing, revolving around this young girl and this haunted lighthouse. He’s in one of his phases again…”

Twilight shared a knowing look. Canter Zoom, from what she’d heard of her chat over the internet with Juniper had these phases were sometimes he’d go off to shoot some low budget film by himself, to reignite the creative flame or something like that. Never were really noteworthy, these pieces, more likely to end up on Mystery Science Theatre but they always got him thinking on the much larger pieces that made him famous. Suppose everyone needed a break now and then from writing blockbusters. Twilight and Juniper never judged.

“Yeah, didn’t want to spend my time around a B-Film’, -Even one of my uncle’s- production knowing I was probably going to end up riffing it whenever it aired on late night TV,” Juniper sighed. “Saw you gals, looked like you were having fun so I decided to see what was up.”

Her eyes briefly drifted towards Knock-Out, who was resting up on a cobblestone parking lot near the beach in his vehicle mode. Swordbreaker was nearby, a black dog -Somewhat larger than normal and rather wolfish- resting on his hood soaking up the sun’s rays. “Nice car. Where’d you get it? Your family win the lottery or something?” Juniper questioned.

All of the others sucked in breaths or shared nervous looks. Thankfully, Trixie was quick with the save.

“Hardly, it’s Twilight’s uncle’s! He’s letting us borrow it for the day,” Trixie explained, and although Juniper looked somewhat suspicious, she let it slide. “Dog’s his as well, he said it needs some exercise.

This dog, was, in fact, Feral Steel under a holographic glamour to keep an eye on Sunny as Fowler had asked. He wasn’t the only Predacon in the area, Sunder was lurking out of sight amongst the nearby treeline.

“Ah, I got ya.” Juniper nodded. “He does look a little fat…”

Feral let out a little growl, and Juniper yelped a little. “Though I mean nothing by that, just an observation!” She stammered out, holding her hands up defensively.

“Steel, be quiet.” Sunny barked out from nearby, pointing a stern figure at the Predacon, who quavered under her gaze. Knock Out chuckled softly to himself, Feral Steel, one of the more infamous Predacon hunters now a simple housepet controlled by a human! 

It took Knock Out a second to realize what the sound of metal grinding against metal meant, but he soon realized that Swordbreaker was laughing at this as well.

“Funny, I didn’t even think that guy had a sense of humor…” the Medic thought to himself.

“Hey, what’s that?” Juniper asked, pointing towards the bay, where what looked to be a giant fin cutting through the water was briefly seen before submerging once more.

“Shark?” Sour asked before she turned… moody again. “Nah, more likely some little brat who thought it’d be a good idea to give us all a jump scare for shits and giggles!” she corrected herself before shouting: “Hey you little punk, you need better prank ideas! That one, so old and overused!”

“...Well, I’m waiting a few more hours till I take a dip in that water.” Indigo decided.

“Is she… always like that?” Juniper asked delicately leaning into Twilight’s ear for a whisper, taking a few steps back from Sour as she did so.

“Yeah. Pretty much,” Twilight sighed. “You get used to it. ...Somewhat.”

“...Little punk probably would have tried to grope my breasts as well!” Sour muttered, crossing her arms. Indigo patted her on the shoulder sympathetically, looking rather unnerved. Whether if it was from Sour’s rant or the idea of a shark in the waters was uncertain.

Feral’s blood red optics had narrowed slightly as he observed the shark fin when it had appeared, seemingly in suspicion although nobody seemed to notice this or his hackles raising for that matter.

“Well, it’s a beach, so why not just enjoy ourselves a little eh?” Lemon cried out, grabbing Trixie’s radio away from her and tuning into the local station. “Seriously, bit too quiet around here for my tastes!”

“Oh, the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear
And it shows them pearly white
Just a jackknife has old MacHeath, babe
And he keeps it, ah, out of sight
Ya know when that shark bites with his teeth, babe…” 

Sour quite quickly changed the station to something else.

“Not. Helping.” she grumbled. Next song, wasn’t exactly helpful either. Seemed someone watching them had a sense of humor.

“Baby, there's a shark in the water
There's something underneath my bed
Oh, please believe I said

“Baby, there's a shark in the water
I caught them barking at the moon
Better be soon…”

“Oh come on!” Sour shouted in disbelief, throwing her hands up in the air. “I swear, if the next song that comes on is “Once Bitten, Twice Shy” then I’ll…” she trailed off into undecryptable muttering.

Thankfully, Juniper and everyone else around her was saved from a potential explosion of rage from the freckled girl by the next song actually just being a swing jazz instrumental.

Feral looked up towards where he knew where Sunder was hiding, and said in the Predacon tongue over his private comms: “You had something to do with the music didn’t you? Seems like your sense of humor.”

Sunder just made beeping sounds of swearing innocence. Feral didn’t entirely believe him.

“Come on Twi, dance!” Trixie said, as she got up off her towel and began to groove to the music.

“I… I don’t know how to…” Twilight mumbled to herself almost too quiet to hear.

“What, you don’t know how to dance?” Trixie asked. “Awww… Do not worry, the Great and Instructing Trixie shall teach you! Soon, you’ll be dancing like that old guy from… what was it? Footfree? Trixie admits she’s no eighties expert so she only guesses.”

“Kevin Bacon,” Twilight answered as Juniper and Indigo giggled in the background at the couple’s antic. “And I don’t do disco.”

“Now, none of that!” Trixie reprimanded with a little wag of the finger, only increasing the laughter. “Now, all you have to do, is put your arms around my waist like so…” Trixie continued, as she rested her hands on Twilight’s shoulders.





“So, anyways, Twilight,” Juniper continued as she watched her friend and Trixie engage in a slow dance from her place on a fold-out chair. “Got this friend of mine, thought you might get along with her, or at least Fluttershy might. Met her over Twitter, and no I don’t care what that girl with the smartphone, Vignette Valencia says, it’s not an outdated trend.”

“Wait, Vignette Valencia? Social media celebrity?” Lemon asked in excitement, and everyone looked at her. Or more accurately, stared directly at her in stunned silence. Lemon blushed sheepishly. “I’m… I’m a fan. I follow her everywhere!”

“...My respect for you just dropped tenfolds,” Sugarcoat sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Social media celebrities, everybody knows who they are just because they’ve done something so minute like post this small video of them doing something stupid like… Oh, I don’t know, say “It's like a turducken!” and get your statement remixed into something mildly entertaining,” she explained, her voice dripping with no small amount of disgust. “Basically, you end up with the Kardashians in the end, everybody knows them but nobody knows exactly why. ...Might explain why shows like Duck Dynasty took off. Seriously, who cares about a family of duck hunters in the state of Louisiana?”

“...What’s a turducken?” Lemon asked, rubbing her chin in thought. She, of course, had completely ignored or tuned out most of Sugarcoat’s little spiel on her opinions about social media. Like she and pretty much everyone else did most of the time. Just nod your head and pretend you were following it, was everyone’s general solution to whenever Sugarcoat wanted to voice her… opinions on something she found distasteful.

“Hypothetical mix of a chicken, turkey and a duck. Think they made the idea into a sandwich once. Not even Pinkie would eat it,” Twilight replied with a small shudder of disgust at the idea. “But we’re getting off track here. Juniper, this friend of yours?”

“Oh, oh, yes yes!” Juniper replied, flushing in embarrassment having lost herself in Sugarcoat’s little running commentary on social media celebrities. Adjusting her glasses, she continued. “She’s… well, she’s pretty much like how you used to be. Complete shut-in, only friends seem to be the plants in her parent’s greenery. A, uh, wallflower, you might say. Could use someone to talk to really. She’s begun to open up more over social media, but she’s not really had an actual…”

“Face to face conversation?” Twilight sighed sadly in complete understanding. “Yeah, I know how that feels. Before I met the girls, only real friends I had were these people in a chatroom related to Dungeons and Dragons…” she trailed off sadly, before chuckling in remembrance. How funny it would be, one of those friends would later turn out to be Trixie. 

“Ooh ooh!” Lemon piped up, practically jumping up in down in excitement with her hand held high. “I could go talk to her! Give her some sick beats, everybody bonds over music!”

“No offense, but I’d think you’d be a bit too… wild for her.” Juniper deadpanned.

“Actually, the idea does have merit. Mind you, I’d tag along with her, just to keep Lemon in check but music has been used to help people communicate. Studies actually have been conducted on this,” Twilight explained. “It’s been found, and I’m quoting from this article I found online mind you: “Singing provides increased phonation duration (holding out a sound for a long time), intonation, and has a shared auditory-motor pathway with speech. One unique feature of music is its rhythm – the rhythm we find in song is inherently predictable and may help cue what’s coming next.” Twilight quoted, word for word from pure memory.

“See?” Lemon said with a smug little smile before she sighed. “I… I don’t know if you gals knew this, but before I was… well, me, not exactly the most sociable person around. The only outlet I had to express my emotions? Well, it was music.”

“Oh Zesty…” Indigo whispered, bringing her girlfriend in for a hug. Lemon tried to fight back the blush she had with her girlfriend’s somewhat exposed breasts so close to her, but was failing badly. So, she just changed the subject. Quickly.

“Yes, well, that’s in the past. Eventually, few people took notice of the music I liked, and we started talking back and forth about various genres, bands and like. Tuned me onto stuff -If you excuse the poor pun- I didn’t even know about! Remember that song I was singing in CPA’s cafeteria a few weeks back?”

“Something from that old Sylvester Stallone movie called Cobra, right? “You got the Touch” or something like that?” Indigo remembered, an image in her mind of Lemon doing air guitar atop one of CPA’s cafeteria tables.

“Yes, that!” Lemon chimed in, back to her old perky self.

“Didn’t know you were an obscure movie buff,” Juniper put in. “What’s your name again?”

“Indigo, Indigo Zap,” Indigo said, offering her hand for Juniper to shake, which was accepted. “I have the feeling, given who your uncle is, this will be the beginnings of a fine friendship.”

“Yeah…” Juniper smiled softly and had to force the tears away from her eyes, before she found herself looking Lemon dead in the eyes.

“Just remember one thing,” Lemon said in a completely serious tone. “She’s mine, okay? So, no stealing!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Juniper smiled before she looked at the waters, and the sun just beginning to set. “So, if you ask me, I say we hit the bay before the waters get too cold for a dive okay? Sounds like a good time if you ask me! Who knows, might be able to capture some good footage for something, maybe even find the Pocomoonshine monster!” she exclaimed in excitement, holding up a little underwater camera.

“So glad someone believes in that thing as well!” Trixie chimed in triumphantly.

“Sounds like fun, monster or no monster,” Indigo shrugged. “Shark’s probably long gone by now, if there ever was one to begin with.”

“Great!” Juniper said, hugging her newest friend briefly -Ignoring or just not outright hearing Lemon’s growl of jealousy- and dashing off. “Be back in a sec, just need to grab my gear!”

“...She’s so much more developed than me.” Lemon whimpered to herself, with Sour patting her on the shoulder in sympathy.

It wasn't even a few minutes later that the two had descended. Under the waves, everything was so much more calm and tranquil. Indigo never knew quite why, but she always liked the water. She was certainly no siren of the sea, but she did find herself at peace whenever she took a dive in the school’s pool. Maybe, just maybe, it stemmed from the fact that whenever she was back at CPA, being underwater meant there was nobody to really bother her in any form.

Nearby, Juniper was scanning the murky waters of the bay with her camera every now and then, in hopes of catching something. Every time she thought she saw something dart past her, she let out a little squeak of excitement and turned her camera in that direction.

“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t the first time you’ve done this?” Indigo asked via sign language. She’d had this deaf cousin at CHS, so she’d made it prudent to learn the language as soon as she could.

“Yeah, sorry. Just been fascinated with the Lake Pocomoonshine monster for quite a while now. Been down to the lake once, forgotten why I was there but laid down some camera traps in hopes of catching something.” Juniper signed back.

“And did you?” Indigo had to ask.

“Actually, now that you mention it, yes. Yeah, I did,” Juniper replied. “Mind you, couldn’t tell exactly what it was. Only that it was big, and white. Took up the entire shot, couldn’t really make heads or tails of it. But I truly believe it was the monster.”

“Well, can’t stop believing I suppose,” Indigo shrugged. “As Twilight was ever so keen to remind me, we know more about space than we do our own waters.”

“Ah yes… Twilight.” Juniper sighed sadly.

“Something wrong?” Indigo had to ask out of concern, even though she very well knew the answer.

“It’s just… well, for the longest time now, ever since that little incident at my uncle’s film studio with the Daring Do movie, and then what happened next with me turning into this giant monster, everybody except for Twilight and now you girls know me as this bitchy and spiteful little girl willing to sabotage a high-budget flick just for my time in the spotlight. Played with fire, and I got burned.”

“And by fire, I assume you mean Equestrian magic right?” Indigo asked, and Juniper looked at her in shock, sapphire eyes widened.

“How did you…?”

“Let’s just say I’ve had some experience with the stuff as well,” Indigo replied.

“You didn’t…?” Juniper trailed off.

“Turn into some sort of she-demon? No, I didn’t, but Twilight herself did. You’d have to ask her for the shameful details of the whole sordid affair,” Indigo sighed to herself. “But you didn’t know what you’d gotten your hands on, right? Didn’t know what would happen?”

“That’s the thing, I did sorta have a guess at what I’d stumbled upon with that damned mirror,” Juniper grumbled shamefully. “And I didn’t care about what happened next, all I ever wanted was for everyone’s attentions to be on me for a change, not my uncle! I was an idiot, pure and simple.”

“Hey, quality over quantity, right?” Indigo signed, smiling reassuringly and patting Juniper on the shoulder.

“Yeah, I suppose…” Juniper replied, before her eyes caught wind of something. “Hey, what’s that?” she asked, pointing to this really odd bright blue glow in front of them and began swimming towards it.

“Juniper, wait!” Indigo wanted to shout, but growled in frustration and swam after her. Her eyes were soon to widen in shock at what she saw next. Laying in front of her, was this massive metallic form, coated in bronze paint and unquestionably Cybertronian in design. It was mostly devoid of features, so it was impossible to tell what it would have turned into when it was alive, but what was laying next to it giving off the glow was even more curious in nature. Massive crystals, humming and glowing with some ethereal, otherworldly energy. Pure, raw energon.

“Is that… is that a giant robot?” Juniper signed, her eyes blinking in abject shock. She was so stunned, she failed to see Indigo pull out two bracers, and click them together like some sort of Sentai heroine and turn into a gray and silver armored warrior with hints of blue.

“W-What the…?” Juniper asked, before noticing the eyes the robot had. They were the same shade as Indigo’s. The exact same shade. “Indigo, that you?”

Her only answer was a small nod, and then Indigo opened up her wrist gauntlets to open a transmission to the Autobase.

“Perceptor, you getting these readings?” she asked. “And I said there was nothing down here…” she thought to herself, chuckling in amusement.

“Yes, quite,” Perceptor replied. “Don’t believe it, pure unrefined energon Crystals on this planet, and a faint Cybertronian life signal as well!”

“Faint, as in you mean he’s still… alive?” Indigo asked in fear.

“Not him, but I can’t…” Perceptor trailed off. “Indigo, you and your friend. You need to get out of there now! Something’s coming, and something’s coming fast!”

Sure enough, shooting through the water ahead of them was this massive white form, serpentine in nature resembling this legless and whiskerless Asian dragon with spines on his/her back.

“Move, now!” Indigo shouted, as the serpent let out a practically ear-splitting shriek of pure undiluted rage. Then, its throat glowed a very bright blue as something hummed and charged up, before it fired a blast of pure blue energy from its jaws...
> Part 17: A Bigger Boat You Say?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Darksyde

Massive metal heetstruts clanked against the dimly lit hallways and corridors of the Decepticon ship, Vehicons immediately moving to one side and saluting as soon as they saw exactly whom was coming their way.

“Yes, yes, I completely understand we’ve lost track of him,” another Decepticon tried to reassure his commander. Him, being Knock Out of course. “But you must understand, now that the Autobots have him, they’ve most likely got him in their base which I might add we’ve yet to find!”

Onslaught turned his crimson visor towards Steeljaw, who cowered below the massive Combaticon’s gaze, with the teal-blue enforcer pressing his fingers nervously together.

“And yet you’re a hunter, so go hunt!” Onslaught remarked, completely unamused by Steeljaw’s groveling.

“Yes, I quite understand Commander,” Steeljaw swallowed, nervously noting the two large cannons mounted on the massive Combaticon commander’s back.

“I gave you and your fellow Decepticons a simple plan to follow,” Onslaught noted, his faceplating an unreadable mask. “Are you telling me that you’re too incompetent to follow basic instructions,” the large bot leaned down, getting visor to visor with the smaller bot, “or are you trying to say there was something wrong with my strategy?”

“Nothing wrong with your strategy,” Steeljaw stated. “It’s just, Knock Out defecting and running back towards the Autobots and their awaiting claws was an unforeseen variable.”

Truthfully, Steeljaw didn’t even believe himself. Knock Out, he was always terrified of most of the other Decepticons onboard, save for a few like his Conjunx Endura Breakdown. It was only a matter of time before he grew a brain and ran for it. Privately, if it weren’t for Steeljaw’s own fear of Onslaught and his wrath -And, of course, Onslaught’s hunter known only as Darksteel- he would have made a break for it as well.

Onslaught grunted, straightening himself back up to his full, impressive height. “If I wanted excuses, I’d go to Starscream’s grave and talk to him! What I want from you are results, Steeljaw. If Knock Out has decided to go groveling to the Autobots, then you and your team need to smoke them out. Go, and prove that you can claim to be a proper Decepticon rather than a waste of circuits.”

“Y-Yes sir.” Steeljaw stated, bowing.

“And word to the wise,” Onslaught remarked. “Darksteel, he’s always hungry. Just because he hasn’t caught Knock Out yet, doesn’t mean I can’t feed him something else. Or someone else. Predacons, hungry bunch are they not?”

Steeljaw visibly shuddered, remembering when he’d caught a glimpse of Onslaught’s ‘pet’ who he’d decided to throw up against Brawl and a hoard of Vehicons just to see if Darksteel was worth the credits he’d paid for him. The end result was with Brawl in the medical wing with several burns and a missing arm, and the Vehicons a pile of molten scrap and slag metal. Knock Out had not been pleased with the work he’d been assigned that day, citing how hard it was to find new arms for Brawl’s body-type, complaining about it to no end.

“You remember where I found you, Steeljaw?” Onslaught asked. “You were just a simple thug for hire, on the run from both that bounty hunter Devcon and the Cybertronian Law Enforcement after Thunderhoof’s mob went belly-up. Am I right?”

Steeljaw nodded nervously, still remembering the distinctive sound of Devcon’s twin turbine engines and lasers.

“But, I see something in you,” Onslaught started, putting a hand on Steeljaw’s shoulder. “A bit of potential maybe? The potential to climb the ranks of this army and not simply be at my beck and call. But for that to happen, you have to complete your mission. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Commander,” Steeljaw nodded. He inwardly grimaced, wondering what his brothers Gekisoumaru and Drift would be thinking of him now, an enforcer for hire working for a former Autobot Elite Guardsman turned Decepticon war criminal and terrorist.

“Good. Then you are dismissed. If I formulate a new plan, I will send a message to you.”

Steeljaw nodded, before transforming with parts shifting and moving as he turned into a massive armored Terradyne LAPV and driving off down the corridor. Onslaught then pulled one of the two rifles off his back and pointed it into the shadows of one of the corridors, where Flamewar was slinking out of the darkness uncloaking herself. The fembot had an amused smirk on her face.

“Well, aren’t you quick on the draw?” she remarked. “Long gun barrel. People might start to talk, think you’re overcompensating for something…” she said, gently nudging the rifle’s barrel away from her face with a finger.

Snorting, Onslaught reholstered his rifle. “If it were any other bot that had made that crack, I would have shot them. So, any reason you’re slinking around while cloaked?”

“Well, you know perfectly well a gal has to keep in practice,” Flamewar replied in a seductive tone, a bit too close into Onslaught’s personal space than he would have liked. “Striking from the shadows, isn’t that what you brought me on for? Been a Hell of a lot more successful than the others pieces of slag you hired, considering both Road Rage and Prowl are well on their way to becoming berserkers before their Sparks finally blink out just like that,” she said, with a snap of her fingers.

“I don’t need to be reminded of that,” Onslaught grimaced, thinking of his subordinates. “It’s a wonder that I expect to get anything done with the bots I hired. But you’re not usually one to care about the goings on of the crew; why are you here? Trying to get something out of me?”

“Oh please, I could care less about that,” Flamewar replied dismissively. “Honestly, just wanted to warn you about Steeljaw. His brothers were Autobots you know, and yet you ask him to hunt them down alongside his brother’s childhood friend… Oh, what’s her name? It escapes me for the moment. Point being, that Corvicon and Steeljaw can’t be trusted farther than you could throw them.”

“Not a very good expression for your point,” Onslaught noted, flexing his fingers. “I am quite confident that I could throw them fairly far.”

“That's better, but don't let your imagination run away with you,” Flamewar remarked. “You’re hardly invincible. Pride goeth before the fall, as they say.”

“But, you do make an excellent point,” Onslaught noted. “If only I had the foresight to be testing Steeljaw. And I wish that I had given his second-in-command the order to slag the bastard the instant he seemed to turn traitor for those damned Autobots,” Onslaught drawled out sarcastically as Flamewar blinked in surprise. He waved his hand in the air. “But of course, I hadn’t considered that.”

“Oh, you are as good as they say…” Flamewar smirked devilishly before a thought came to her. “But what makes you so sure Flich -Now I remember her name!- will go through with it? I mean, if you give her a job, she’s likely to get distracted by the first shiny thing that catches her optics. Doesn’t have the Spark of a killer. A prostitute maybe, but a killer? I doubt that very much.” she remarked.

“I have some leverage over that trollop,” Onslaught assured, producing a small device with a receiver and one button on its surface. “And it promises to have explosive results.”

“Ah yes, you did tell me you had a few of those on board,” Flamewar remarked. “I saw the messy results of what happened when Triggerhappy got antsy and made a break for it. Or tried to anyway.”

“I will not make the same mistakes that the Decepticon leaders of the past did,” Onslaught stated, his faceplate hardening as he put the device away. “If that means that a few runners become molten scrap for Swindle to mop up, then so be it.”

“Well, you’re sure confident in yourself,” Flamewar noted. “But, anyways, the real reason I’m here. Something weird just popped up on the Darksyde’s sensors. Some sort of energy reading along Maine’s coastlines. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was Cybertronian in nature. But we’re the first to visit this planet… aren’t we?” she asked, showing her commander a datapad and pointing to a spot on Maine’s coastline which was flashing a faint red color.

“Not entirely,” Onslaught corrected. “Forgive me for going off on a history lesson, but when I was in the Elite Guard, I learned a few things. One of which was, long before this untimely demise via the hands of both Autobot and Decepticon forces, Shockwave was experimenting with cloning extinct species. And I have reason to believe he… succeeded. Throughout human myths, ancient beasts like winged serpents and ghostly hounds have popped up. I believe these to be the results of Shockwave’s experiments. It was said, he sent them someplace far, someplace barren, when they grew too rowdy to control.” the Combaticon Commander explained. “How they’ve survived all these years without access to ready-made Energon, I have yet to understand but it right now seems to be the most likely solution to our signal. I’ll ready Darksteel to have a look around.”






Taunton Bay, Hancock County:

“Oh boy.” Indigo squeaked out as she saw the blue blast of pure energy head right for her and Juniper.

As both divers rolled to the left to avoid the flame, the creature let out a hiss as the blast cleaved a rock formation clean in half. While this happened Indigo caught wind of a distinctive symbol on the serpent’s forehead, an orange dragon’s head glimmering and glowing like a flame. Her eyes widened. A Predacon.

“...Well, always wanted to meet the Pocomoonshine Lake Monster,” Juniper remarked. “Just uh… not like this.”

She let out a yelp as Indigo grabbed her and pulled her away as the massive beast rocketed towards them like a torpedo or a missile, spines cutting through the water like knives, each crackling with electricity at the tip glowing a sharp blue.

“So, not just a massive dragon, but a massive electric eel as well,” Indigo thought as the Predacon swam around for another pass, throat beginning to glow blue once more. “Wonderful.”

As it came around, and readied another blast of flame, Indigo activated her suit’s transformation feature and turned into a large rifle, as Juniper stared wide-eyed in shock.

“Oh, she is so explaining this to me if we survive this!” the girl thought to herself as the blast fired, a stream of hot blue flame cutting through the water.

“Juniper, press my trigger, now!” Indigo barked out.

“You want me to WHAT!?!” Juniper gaped. “I really don’t think this is the time to-”

“The damn gun mode’s trigger!” Indigo shouted, and Juniper suddenly noticed a trigger resting at the bottom of the rifle, and reaching out with her hand, pulled it backwards. A blast fired out of the gun’s barrel, in an attempt to cancel out or at least slow down the flames rapidly speeding towards them.

Amazingly, it worked, with the two energy beams meeting in the middle and canceling each other out. The Predacon roared in rage, and Indigo transformed back.

“Move, now! I don’t think we want to stay in one place for very long with this one!” Indigo shouted.

“Okay, but you are so explaining this one to me girl!” Juniper signed at her.

“Long story short. Massive robots from another world fighting each other, and me and the girls just so happened to get caught up in their little squabble. That good enough for you?”

“...Good enough.” Juniper squeaked out as they swam as fast as their legs would allow, with the massive serpent in hot pursuit. Slithering and snaking through the water, the Predacon let out another roar of frustration.

“Perceptor, any idea why there’s this massive, and I do mean flippin’ massive sea snake, probably from your world trying to flambe us?” Indigo shouted into her wrist comms.

“A-A Predacon, on Earth? No, that’s impossible, the only ones we know of are Feral Steel, Sunder, Filch, and Darksteel! I never cataloged a fifth!”

“Well, might want to re-check!” Juniper shouted, as the two narrowly avoided another blast of flame.

“A-Another human?” Perceptor stuttered out in shock, and Indigo could practically imagine him rubbing his head in pain at this new unexpected variable. “Indigo, we have got to talk about secret keeping!”

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting to run into a giant robo-snake on a dive today, nor a pocket of Energon!” Indigo shouted in frustration as the Predacon rocketed past them, and tried to swipe at them with his/her tailfin. Indigo and Juniper narrowly avoided being smacked, hard into a rock wall, which ended up smashed by the sheer force of the tailfin swing. The fin ended up getting caught in the rubble, trapping the Predacon for the moment.

“Right, right,” Perceptor admitted. “Not sort of the thing anyone would predict. So, who’s the new friend?”

“Name’s Juniper Montage, you?” Juniper asked.

“Perceptor, greatest scientist of our time!” the Autobot exclaimed proudly, as if he was expecting a round of applause.

“...Wow. You certainly are humble, aren’t you?” Juniper replied flatly.

“You get multiple degrees from different universities amongst various other scientific awards and acknowledgment -Including a pat on the back from Alpha Trion himself!- back on Cybertron, and I’d think it’s pretty safe to say you can boast about it.” Perceptor said smugly.

“Less bragging, more information on this creep, m’kay?” Juniper snapped, quite fed up with all the crazy she could take today. She suddenly wished she’d stayed on her uncle’s crappy set in her crappy trailer.

“Okay, descriptions! I need descriptions! I need your eyes. Maybe I can narrow down the species you’ve got here,” Perceptor surmised. “I took a course on various Predacon species, so in theory I might be able to-”

“In theory, never a good phrase.” Indigo sighed, as she watched the thing roar in frustration as it tried to break loose.

“Okay, so it’s big, white, has a serpentine form and can breath big blasts of blue fire. That enough?” Juniper asked in irritantance.

“Not good enough, that’s pretty vague. Lots of Predacons that fit that description. Breathing fire alone… Whoo boy, you really don’t want to know how many can do that.” Perceptor muttered. “Any other details, things that stick out? Things that would narrow it down further?”

“Okay, looks like an Asian dragon, only legless and whiskerless and has electric spines. Massive ones, big ones, about four to eight feet tall. The entire creature, thirty feet in length.” Juniper rattled off before she noticed something else. Her keen eyes stemming from her career as a camerawoman did lend itself of some use. “Eyes are odd as well. One gold, and one crystal clear blue.”

“Okay, now that helps!” Perceptor cried in triumph, just as the Predacon finally broke free.

“Can you explain while we swim for our lives?” Indigo asked, as the chase resumed and they got closer to the bay shores, water darkening presumably as the sun went down. Soon, it would be pitch black and almost impossible to see. The spine tips and the Predacon badge glimmered quite fiercely now.

“Okay, what you’ve got here? It’s a wormozoid. Okay, yes I realize it doesn’t look like one from your perspective, but that’s the species name.” Perceptor explained. “Now, they don’t have the best of eyesight, with only one eye -The blue one- actually being able to see quite well. So, in theory, a sneak attack from the left should disable it. However, I should warn you, it’ll see you coming and these things, whip around quite fast.”

As Perceptor explained this, Indigo had tried to kick the creature in the left side, and as he’d predicted, the Predacon whipped around and slammed her into a boulder.

Juniper’s breathing began to speed up out of pure fear, seeing her new friend get her ass handed to her, but forced herself into a calmer state, knowing that she’d use up her already precariously low air supply.

“Somebody… help. Please.” she pleaded silently. Then, her prayers were answered, as something dark began cutting through the water, with a fearsome maw and massive teeth, the only things being bigger than that being the creature’s fins. Juniper’s eyes widened as she saw an impossibly huge great white come out of nowhere, and latch his jaws onto the Predacon’s left side, biting down with surely what had to be tremendous force. The Predacon roared out in rage, and smacked the shark in the side with its tail forcing the great white to release the now bleeding energon Predacon.

“Ugh, remind me never to try that again…” the shark… spoke? It was then revealed it wasn’t a shark at all, as it’s parts began to shift and change into a massive robot with a yellow faceplace, and a three-pronged claw substituting for his(?) right hand. He rubbed his forehead in pain with his actual hand. “Might be getting ahead of myself here, but… “The cobalt ocean roils
zephyrs blow cold,
and another hapless foe is crushed beneath my heel.” the shark sonnated, his own personal Senryū.

“A shark robot with a penchant for Japanese poetry. Okay, so transforming into a giant she-demon of a  woman isn’t officially the weirdest thing to happen in my life.” Juniper thought.

“You know, there’s a human joke about sharks and needing a bigger boat, but considering I’m the shark in this scenario… well, don’t think it really works here.” the shark-bot remarked, as he got into a battle stance, and looked towards Juniper. “You, kid, get the scrap out of here. Me and Snaptrap here? We’ve got some business to resolve.”

“Business?” Juniper questioned, picking up Indigo in her arms, the armor covering the girl being surprisingly light.

“Yeah, being chasing him down for a fortnight. Disturbed the resting place of my sister, Scylla over there,” he said, pointing to the bronze robot near the crystal bed. For the first time, Juniper noted the robot bore tentacle six arms sprouting out of her back. “He needs to be taught a good, short sharp lesson I should think!” the robot explained, his claw arm spinning like a drill. “Name’s Sky-Byte by the way. You and your friend?”

“Name’s Juniper Montage, and that’s Indigo Zap,” Juniper replied, slightly nervous of the shark.

“Good names, now get moving!” Sky-Byte barked out. Juniper was all too keen to take his advice, as she saw the Predacon’s parts beginning to shift and change. The bottom half of the serpent became legs, with the top half becoming arms with the jaw taking the place of the right hand. Spines became shoulder armor, and a head popped out, and like the beast mode’s optics, it bore two unusual eyes. One crystal blue, the other gold, each glaring venomously at Sky-Byte.

“You… you interrupted my hunt.” it hissed out, in a metallic voice that would make Juniper’s skin crawl.

“I should hardly call hunting fleshlings a hunt, not really worthy of even a piecemeal. Besides, they’re not part of this.”

“You only give a damn,” Snaptrap hissed out, a forked tongue flickering out every so often. “Because I’m around, and I just so happened to violate your dear sister’s gravesite. Normally, you’d chase them off. Or rip them to shreds. Isn’t that right, ‘Thanatos’?” he asked, using the name the Greeks gave Sky-Byte, after seeing how much destruction and death the shark had dealt out in his younger years. The Predacon stiffened before he growled, showing his teeth.

“Face me, white serpent.
I'll drill justice into you,
For your grave misdeed.” Sky-Byte snarled, fangs still bared and Snaptrap only laughed harder.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Thanatos, the hunter! Now noble defender of the innocent!” he laughed.

Sky-Byte’s only response you might ask? A solid right cross to the jaw.

“Hardly a defender, make no mistake if I wasn’t so distracted by you, you violator, I would have ripped those fleshbags limb from limb,” Sky-Byte replied. “You remember, us Sharkticons? Very territorial.”

“Deny it all you want,” Snaptrap laughed as he slashed at Sky-Byte, striking him in the side with a blade and drawing energon. “But you’ve grown soft. You were, dare I say it, friendly to those two humans. I’ve always known you. Out of all of Shockwave’s clones, you’ve always been one of the noblest. You only kill when disturbed. You’d rather be left alone. Your legends, the ones the humans crafted around you. You remember what they said right?” he asked, striking Sky-Byte in the leg with his jaw arm, and biting down hard. “They always signified a peaceful death, never violent ones. I remember one time, this Predacon who was going to die via this deadly poison which was slowly killing her, you just ended her life via her request. Euthanasia, as it’s called.”

He was swiftly interrupted by a blast to the chest from Sky-Byte, who’d fired off an energy blast of his own from his torso.

“Okay,” Snaptrap, the phantom of the seas chuckled as he wiped away energon from his mouth. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you actually have some bite left in you after all. So, humans thought of you as a God right? Worshipped you even? That must mean you owe them some sort of favor, as I know Gods to be a very proud lot. Let’s see what happens with you and your demeanor when they… die.” he smirked, before with a swing of his arm knocked Sky-Byte into a rock wall and into unconsciousness.

With that, Snaptrap transformed back to beast mode with a loud shriek and swam up towards the surface spines glowing…







Meanwhile, Juniper finally breached the surface, and threw off her oxygen mask as she rushed up towards the girls. The group’s eyes widened, both on seeing Indigo’s beaten up state, and her in her Targetmaster armor.

“What the…?” Sour asked before muttering: “Well, there goes our little secret.” with a resigned slump of her shoulders.

“Tell me what happened to Indy, tell me!” Lemon shouted, grabbing Juniper by the shoulders and shaking her frantically, as Sugarcoat tossed a stopwatch to Juniper after pulling Lemon away. She’d felt Indigo’s heartbeat, and it was not beating. Probably due to the force of the shock. Facial plates were cracked, so she’d likely got in some water in her lungs as well.

“...That.” Juniper squeaked out pointing to the surface of the water, where a very distinctive spined form was cutting through it.

“Oh shit,” Trixie said in a soft -almost inaudible- tone, as she and Lemon readied themselves for battle and assumed their armored forms. Behind them, Feral dropped his disguise and Knock Out and Swordbreaker transformed.

“Thank God I took basic medical training back at CPA…” Sugarcoat murmured, thinking back.

“Stopwatch, now. Keep time,” she ordered and Juniper pressed down on the stopwatch before Sugarcoat turned back to her. “Okay, what we want is thirty chest compressions, four per second. Tilt head back, and two breathes.”

“Okay, got it!” Juniper nodded, and Sugarcoat continued to shout out orders.

“Elbows locked, full body weight on them, press hard down on breast bones,” she stated completely calm as she tried to get Indigo’s heart started again and hide her fear. What they were trying to do wasn’t forcing the water out of the lungs, it was to create pressure in the heart so that the blood would start moving in their body once again. The mouth to mouth, it would get air back into the lungs and filter into the blood. ...At least, that was the theory anyways.

Juniper took to this surprisingly quickly, and even as Snaptrap breached the surface eyes glinting with madness and fangs bared, he was met with laser fire from both Lemon and Trixie, who’d transformed into twin rifles for Swordbreaker. Knock Out had just switched his hands out for saw blades.

“Relax, I’m a medic, this won’t hurt a bit fish face.” he remarked, with a wily grin in spite of the circumstances. Feral was leading the rest of the girls to safety, out of harm’s way and out of the firing line of the battle that was about to unfold.

As Snaptrap lunged, he was knocked backwards by the laser fire from Swordbreaker along with a kick to the chest by Knock Out and onto the beach before he shifted forms to his robot mode and drew his blade.

Knock Out smirked when he noted the dent in the Predacon’s armor, and the energon slowly leaking onto the sand.

“Relax, a few patches here and there, and you’ll never notice,” the medic remarked. “Might want to do something about those eyes, very unsightly. Get it?” he laughed. 

Snaptrap wasn’t amused. As blades clashed, and laserfire flew, Sunder flew over to Sugarcoat and Juniper, who were still trying to spur Indigo back to life.

“Allow me.” he beeped out, before giving her a great big shock of electricity, and the next thing anybody knew was Indigo shooting right up coughing up water.

“There there, get it all out of your system girl,” Sugarcoat sighed in relief, patting her firmly on the back to force more water out. “Thank God…”

“So, what’d I miss?” Indigo asked, before she saw the heavy metal war in front of her. “...Oh. Please tell me the others, along with Sky-Byte are safe!” she asked, remembering a vague face in the darkness before she lost consciousness.

“Feral’s led the girls away, but who’s…?” Sugarcoat trailed off in confusion. Her eyes widened, upon seeing Swordbreaker pinned to the ground by Snaptrap, serpent jaws around his neck. Knock Out tried to help, but was kicked backwards.

 “Now is not the time for fear. That comes later.” Snaptrap whispered out softly, tightening his grip as Swordbreaker began to cough out energon.

Suddenly, a massive great white leaped out of the water, and in midair, transformed and grabbed ahold of Snaptrap by the head with a claw arm and pulled.

“This is for Scylla,” Sky-Byte said simply and ripped Snaptrap’s head clean off, blue energon flying upwards like a fountain as wires were ripped apart, and the now headless Predacon sparked a little before falling backwards and hitting the ground with a mighty resounding Clang! Thanatos, indeed.

“Your betrayal had hurt, and now I repay with the blue of your blood
I had warned you, not to betray my trust, and you take away Scylla
With your head gone from your spark, so does your tale…” Sky-Byte recited before whispering: “I’m sorry, brother.” to himself, going completely unheard.

“That’s Sky-Byte,” Juniper confirmed, wincing a little at the brutality of the death. Sure, Snaptrap probably deserved it, but… “Wow, just… wow. I’m surprised his spine didn’t come out as well.”

From the treeline, twin orange avian eyes observed the entire situation narrowing a little, before they vanished. They’d seen all they needed.








Once all the shock had stopped setting over two more (Maybe even more than that, if Scylla’s body was any evidence) unknown Predacons on Earth, and a stash of raw energon discovered, questions had to be asked.

“Alright, where’d you come from?” Perceptor asked, showing up via groundbridge once the whole affair was over. Chrysalis had managed to wrangle a few favors and get Snaptrap’s remains transferred out of the area via helicopter so no uncomfortable questions would be asked. She’d tried to do the same for Scylla, but an icy glare from Sky-Byte had resolved that notion quite quickly. He would give her a proper burial, not just leave her laying at the bottom of the bay.

“Been here quite a while, long before you and your kind ever bothered to come to this planet. The ancient Greeks called me Thanatos and the Hawaiians knew me as Kane-i-kokala. You’d be surprised on how many of your planet’s myths took shape just because of the Predacon species. Look up Quetzalcoatl and reports of winged serpents and other assorted UFOs sighted over South America sometime, why don’t you?” Sky-Byte remarked drollfully, rather annoyed by Perceptor’s questioning. He had better things to do than talk to curious and frankly rather irritating scientists. “That all you need?”

“I suppose, for now,” Perceptor admitted.

“Wait, wait!” Twilight stuttered out. “You’re saying all of Earth’s myths, are connected to Cybertron in some way?” she asked, about to faint.

“Yes, or were you not listening?” Sky-Byte asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Wow, and I thought Sugarcoat was bad…” Trixie thought to herself, smart enough not to voice this aloud for fear of angering the self-proclaimed ‘Death God’. Not that she would argue that title, seeing what Sky-Byte could do.

“I apologize for not making myself known to you sooner,” Sky-Byte continued. “But I suppose you can understand why I would want to be left alone.”

“Yes, quite,” Knock Out said. “Some bots just don’t work well in groups. You’re not the first loner I’ve met.”

“I wasn’t always like this. But that was before…” Sky-Byte trailed off, before thinking better of it and shaking his head. “No, I’ve said too much already. Now, if you excuse me, I must take my leave. I wish you good luck, Autobots, in capturing those who wish this planet harm.”

With that, he transformed and leaped off back into the bay, swimming out to sea as the moon began to rise high into the night sky.

“Think we’ll see him again?” Juniper asked in slight worry for the Sharkticon, feeling he shouldn’t be alone right now.

“Who’s to say?” Swordbreaker shrugged. “Bots like him, they’re nigh impossible to predict. He may return to us when we need him, or he may not.” he sighed, before looking directly at her. “Now, I suppose a lot of explanations are in order.”

“Look, I know how this works. The first rule of robot fight club is that you don't talk about robot fight club, okay?” Juniper replied before Swordbreaker looked at her pointedly.

“You’re in danger now. Snaptrap? You think he’s the only one of our kind who would wish you harm?” he asked. “Hardly. For your own protection, you’re coming back with us to base. At least until the heat dies down. Then we’ll let you go, back to your normal life as long as you swear never to tell another soul outside this circle of humans about what you’ve seen tonight.”

Juniper reached out to fistbump Swordbreaker, which he awkwardly returned. Poor ‘Bot wasn’t familiar with human customs at times. “I… I understand.” she nodded.
> Part 18: Into the Den of Serpents
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Autobase

Howlback crept silently into the base, sticking to the shadows to go unnoticed. Now, her job was a simple one. Get in, get out and report back to Onslaught with any information she might have had. Mind you, she wasn’t going to say a word to Onslaught on where the Autobase was, as she wanted him captured. Trouble was, figuring out how to come up with a believable excuse that she’d conveniently ‘forgotten’ the location and not get slagged in the process.

“Yeah, great plan girl,” Howlback thought to herself as she slinked behind a computer console, and nearly let out a sound of fear as Perceptor walked over and began using it, bringing up the status of Road Rage and the progression of the virus in her system. She let out a sigh of relief and quickly regained her composure as Perceptor then turned to walk off and talk to Prowl about something. “Smart plan, real smart plan. By Lio’s spark, what was I thinking signing onto this job? I should have taken retirement early, really…”

Howlback fancied herself fairly proud that she was the first member of the Predacon race to be employed by the Cybertronian Government. She’d had to fight for her position really no thanks to some of the bigoted upper-class, but the Cybercat was a strong one and would not be swayed into giving up so easily. She’d clawed -sometimes literally- her way up the ranks, and now here she was, one of the Government’s best agents. 

“By Sentinel Prime, how they laughed when they said a Predacon was going to be working for the Government. Too wild, and too uncontrollable, just something to be let loose when you needed someone killed.” Howlback thought to herself. “Granted, yes, I have had to preform some rather… messy assassinations in the past, but they were all to renegade Cybertronians who would not keep the peace, and insist on bringing back the old Decepticon ways. Hell, I put down a member of the DJD, Vos I think it was, for crying out loud!”

Howlback was well aware of the irony in swearing by Sentinel Prime’s spark. Back before the war and when first started up, Sentinel Prime was a known bigot. He, in the end was known to have gone down as a hero facing down the mighty Deathsaurus in his Apex Armor allowing for the rise of Optimus Prime but the truth was far uglier. Before that, he hated anyone who was not a ‘natural’ Cybertronian or anyone who brought disorder to the planet. That meant Predacons and Decepticons alike found themselves exterminated by the Cybertronian Security Forces.

In fact, Sentinel was only succeeded by his predecessor Nominus Prime in terms of pure madness and bringing disgrace to the title of Prime. Nominus, he  had this caste system type crap going on for him. In Nominus’s deluded mind, whatever alt-mode you were born with, it led you to being assigned a job based on that alt mode. Say for example, you got a drill for an alt mode. Meant you worked in the Energon Mines. This was something that originally led to the rise of Megatron’s ideals, and although successful in the end it led to a bloody war that even in the end, Megatron himself admitted was unneeded.

He’d famously said: “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 not do so simply as a means to an end. No. I'd do it, Prime, because it would give me pleasure. And the thing is, when those words were in my head I didn't think I meant them; but when they left my mouth, I realized that I did. If the world thinks you're a monster, what does it matter? The world is wrong. But when you start to think of yourself as a monster…” 

And that’s when he’d formed the famous peace treaty with Optimus to end the war seeing what Cybertron had become, a mere shadow of its former glory.

Howlback’s ears perked up at about that moment, hearing a snippet of conversation between Hound and Prowl.

“So, everything set?” Prowl asked, arms crossed.

“Yeah, worked out a few bugs in the Knock Out hologram’s interface, shouldn’t fritz out on us now like it has the last few times. All in all, Flamewar should be completely fooled. Barring any unforeseen complications…”

“...Like the ones we seem to run into all the time?” Prowl questioned, an eyebrow raised.

“Yes those, but barring those we should do fine. Hey, speaking of Knock Out,” Hound remarked. “You know, he did a good job the other day, protecting those kids from that Predacon. Might think of increasing his leash a little further, no? Let him have just that bit more freedom, I’d say he’s earned it.”

“Interesting…” Howlback thought. She hadn’t been privy to this little development, Knock Out now being in the custody of the Autobots and the Autobots planning to trick Flamewar. Gears started turning in her head, and the basics of an idea began to form. This… This she could do something with. Just required the right amount of crazy and cunning, of which Howlback knew she had in spades.

“I’ll think on it. In the meantime, I’ve got to ready my audio receptors for the verbal blasting Fowler’s liable to give all of us for nearly getting Indigo killed by that ‘Con.”

Hound smiled in sympathy, and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve had Spitfire head him off. She’ll handle things, talk sense into him. You just take it easy and worry about Flamewar. She’s the main issue right now.”

“Thanks Hound. Don’t know if I’ve ever said this to you, but you’re a valuable soldier, and friend.” Prowl replied, giving perhaps one of the first real smiles Hound had ever seen him give.

“It’s never been needed, I’ve always known old friend.” Hound said, before walking off.







One of the few things that was able to be saved from the Axalon aside from some computer consoles and the CR chambers -And even they were still mostly non-operational and a full-time job to get back online- were the holding cells. That’s where Knock Out found himself right now. He shouldn’t have expected any less, considering he was after all, a fugitive from the law. He honestly didn’t blame any of the Autobots for not trusting him. Slag, considering the evidence packed against him, if he were investigating the case from an outsider’s perspective he wouldn’t have believed himself innocent for a second.

He didn’t judge. He was well looked after, provided fresh energon every day every few hours or so, and let out to socialize given he was on good behavior. Even had access to the television, so he could catch up human horror flicks. It was a passion of his, even if he didn’t know quite why. Maybe it was just because of how astoundingly spark-rendingly stupid some of the humans in the films were, and he wasn’t talking about the bad acting. Seriously, if you were going to go interface, don’t go and do it off alone in the woods where any number of things could get you, serial killers aside!

He, upon hearing the sounds of paws padding against the metal flooring looked up from his TV screen, where some guy with a chainsaw was getting to work on his latest victim. Outside the energy bars of his cell, he saw this dark blue jaguar roaming the hallways, a Decepticon symbol adorning her sides.

“Oh, someone has interesting tastes,” the Jaguar remarked. “Didn’t know you were into Torture Porn. Kinky. Personally, I’m into BDSM myself, but to each his own…” she trailed off, throwing Knock Out off guard for a couple of moments and leaving him sputtering. Eventually, he regained his bearings long enough to speak his mind.

“I’m sorry, didn’t realize the Autobots had captured another one,” Knock Out remarked, and the Jaguar actually threw back her head and laughed.

“Oh, they didn’t capture me. Fact is, they don’t even know I’m here,” Howlback remarked, licking one of her paws like a real cat would. “Now, just wanted to check up on you, make sure the Autobots were treating you as well as I would hope they are. So, see you managed to wrangle yourself a deal,” she remarked, noting the tracking anklet. “Who’s your handler?”

“Road Rage, at least while I’m on base.”

Howlback actually threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, now that is hilarious, considering who her fiance was,” she remarked. “Got to give Prowl credit though. She can’t kill you, or she’d face trial herself. Mind you, I know and I suspect anyone with a brain would know deep down you’re innocent of the crimes of which you’ve been accused.” 

“Alright then, if you know I’m innocent, how come you can’t just get me out of this damned predicament?” Knock Out growled.

“Ooh, feisty,” Howlback said. “I’d like to, honestly I’d love to help but I don’t have any real proof. More like circumstantial evidence, such as you only just standing over Red Alert, and no actual camera footage of you doing the deed. Now, you must understand my position, right?”

“You haven’t even told me what your position is!” Knock Out shouted.

“Alright, alright. Double agent for the Cybertronian Government, and Onslaught’s crew. Like to keep to the shadows, that’s why you never see me around the Darksyde. Supposed to report back to Onslaught soon on recent developme-”

“Hold up, if you’re here, does that mean you know where the Autobase is?” Knock Out interrupted, with more than a tinge of fear creeping into his tone.

“Well, sorta, but obviously, I’m not going to just feed Onslaught the right info, and bring him and the rest of his army right down on your and everyone else’s heads!” Howlback scoffed, giving Knock Out a look as if asking if she was that stupid or uncaring. “Could say I got knocked out, made everything a bit of a daze,” Howlback shrugged, and pressed her paw to the keypad and unlocked the cell. “I think you can see where this is going, right?”

“Wait, so you want me to punch you? A femme. And then leave you lying in the middle of the hallway for everyone to see? Sorta goes against both my beliefs, and your super-secret agent status, right?” Knock Out questioned. Once again, Howlback threw back her head and laughed. How nobody had heard her by this point, it was beyond him. 

“Eh, relax,” Howlback said, waving a paw dismissively. “Have some systems installed, that as soon as I go into stasis lock, I’m teleported back to the Darksyde via my own personal groundbridge. Being a member of the Cybertronian Secret Police, gets you all the good perks. Now hit me with your best shot, big boy…” she smirked, with a trace of seductiveness in her tone.

Knock Out looked hesitant as he approached, eyeing the security cameras. Him being seen doing this, would not look good on him in the eyes of his carers. Needless to say, he didn’t want to wind up in any more trouble than he already was in. Not to mention, lose access to his beloved human horror films! Seriously, he couldn’t live without them!

“Oh, those little ole things?” Howlback asked, taking on a faux southern belle accent for a moment. “Relax, shut them off as soon as I entered the room. Like I said, you get all the good toys when you’re in my position. Really, you should consider signing up, pays well really. Then again, knowing you, you’d probably decline in fear of getting your precious finish scratched.”

Knock Out then noted the normally green lights were now red. He shrugged, and drew back his fist and then punched the Decepticon, sending her flying back into a wall and as she smacked into it, almost at once she teleported off to presumably the Decepticon ship. Knock Out blinked in shock, before settling himself back down into his berth before groaning as he saw the TV.

“Slag. Just missed the good part!” he muttered to himself shaking his head. “I could really grow to loathe that cat…”

“Hey Knock Out, you there?” a very familiar and very welcome voice indeed asked. Knock Out smiled, his sparkmate and fellow gestalt member Breakdown. Now, all members of Combiner Teams, they had this sorta telepathic bond really, it was hard to explain. It was a side-effect of being bonded so closely, with the only thing even more intimate being the bonds of either a Conjunx Endura or an Amica Endura. Allowed Transformers to share each other’s thoughts, and even see through their partner’s eyes, though only with explicit permission. That was why Breakdown was currently poking and prodding at Knock Out’s mind, asking for him to open the door if you will.

“Yeah, I’m here. So, just wanted to talk, maybe share a few naughty selfies?” Knock Out teased. Breakdown laughed nervously.

“If it were only that. I just wanted to see how you were doing, after I heard you got captured by the Autobots, I got… concerned. We haven’t spoken in days, and I thought they’d executed you already!’

“One,” Knock Out corrected. “I gave myself up freely, and two, you know as perfectly well as I do that if I’d gone offline, you’d feel it in your spark.”

“Sorry Knock,” Breakdown sighed. “You know how paranoid I get. Been trying to work through it, but…”

“Yeah, I understand,” Knock Out nodded in sympathy. “Hey, that Dead End being asked to be let into our little conversation?” he asked, hearing a crack of thunder in the background somewhere, and rain pounding on a windscreen making him curious. “Say, where are you guys anyways?”

“South America. Grimwing followed that Sky-Byte fellow, and so he got wind of where this human god, -Called Quetzalcoatl in the human tongue- likely to be a Predacon resides. Some old temple -Templo Mayor, I think it’s called- not even a few miles from here. Imagine, a Predacon smack-dab in the middle of Mexico City and nobody even notices!” Breakdown laughed. “And yeah, that’s Dead End. Been badgering me all weekend to try and see if you were still alive, or had gone to the great scrapyard in the sky as he put it. As you can imagine, didn’t help my paranoia any.”

“Yeah, I would think not,” Knock Out sighed. “Agh, let him in. Maybe it’ll shut him up about his doomsday prophecies for a few days knowing I haven’t been executed.”

For just a moment, Knock Out got a look through Breakdown’s eyes, seeing this massive structure in front of him, rain pounding down on the Lamborghini's windscreen as a jagged flash of lightning lit up the sky and thunder rolled. To the left side of him was Steeljaw in his massive LAPV vehicle mode, and to the right side was Dead End in his maroon and gold pinstriped Ferrari 458 Italia mode.

Trees in the nearby jungled swayed in the howling winds, and another flash of lightning lit up the temple completely, allowing Breakdown (And Knock Out) to see it in all it’s glory. A stepped pyramid style temple, (Typical of the mesoamerican age) rising high into the night sky, with four serpent heads at each corner. 

“So, you’re still alive, awaiting to see the day when Unicron comes to call and eats us all alive.” Dead End drolled. Knock Out sighed, now he remembered why he really didn’t like talking to the ‘Con. “Nice to know. Want to see us get eaten alive in a horrible manner by some giant winged snake god?”

“I’ll pass, thank you,” Knock Out replied flatly. “Also, pretty sure Unicorn’s just a legend for parents to tell their Sparklings to behave or just some campfire story really. He doesn’t exist, and he never will exist. Simple as that.”

“And you have proof of that…?” Dead End asked.

“No, but I prefer to believe in what I see with my own two optics. So unless Unicron himself comes waltzing up to me ready to ferry off my damned soul, I will not believe in him.”

Another crack of thunder.

“Y-You hear that?” Dead End stuttered out. “That’s the sound of blasphemy! That was Unicorn himself getting angry at you not believing in his existence!”

“Oh please, give me a break…” Knock Out sighed, rolling his eyes. “Look, the humans believed in Gods as you are finding out right about now, and all they turned out be were normal Cybertronians like you or I. I’m simply saying, that if Unicron did ever exist, he was probably just like us, no devil-like figure or anything.”

Dead End sighed, knowing his fellow Stunticon would never be swayed on this matter and transformed to robot mode alongside Breakdown and Steeljaw. None of them considered themselves mythology buffs in the slightest, but Steeljaw was the smartest of them, remembering what Onslaught had told him and the other two about Quetzalcoatl in his myths. 

Needless to say, he wasn’t keen on meeting him. He just wanted to find the damned beast, get in, and get out with it in tow and a new addition to the Decepticon ranks. Actually, that was a lie. He wanted to put the creature down, just to spare himself from chancing getting mauled someday soon in the future, and more importantly anyone else from falling victim to a Predacon’s jaws. Although, now that he thought of it, Onslaught attempting to control what was basically a god and getting slaughtered for it was an amusing thought.

Now, to the Maya, the creature was known as Kukulkan, and to the Aztec it was Quetzalcoatl. In both versions of the story, it was a powerful winged serpent hailing from the stars. Curiously, it was a wind deity and a creature of learning. So, although violent to a fault, maybe that meant it was intelligent and could be reasoned with? But what struck Steeljaw curiouser still, was a few other cultures around the region worshipping the same monster? No way this was a coincidence. No, it was more likely, and as much as he hated to even entertain the thought, there were more than one of these beasts.

Each iteration of the beast was slightly different in aspect, but all bore more or less the same basic characteristics. It was powerful, and it flew and it had the nastiest temper this side or Hydrus Four.

“Reminds you a bit of the hunting parties for Turbofoxes Mirage used to take us on back on Animatron, the so-called Jungle Planet, right?” Filch remarked from somewhere overhead in the clouds. “Oh, those were the days, just you, me, him, and that brother of yours, Gekisoumaru.”

“Yeah, I remember…” Steeljaw mused. “Mind you, no acid spitting dogs or the like, but humidity’s about the same. Doing wonders to my insides! I’m going to have to take a bath in a CR Chamber after this!”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll join you…” Flich teased, with that phone-sex murmur she dared to call a voice that made Steeljaw’s faceplates blush a bright red. He was so thankful neither Dead End nor Breakdown could see this.

“Oh, oh!” Dead End shouted. “Rader’s picking something up, going crazy. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we’re standing right on top of our little quarry!”

“Ground scanners… Yeah, they’re penetrating alright,” Breakdown agreed, switching one of his hands out for a drill. “Miles of tunnels right beneath our feet. And I doubt the ancient humans could build them.”

They set about searching, for any sort of clue that would lead them to an underground tunnel to the beasts and their lair. For an upwards of about a half of an hour, there was nothing to be found till a shout rang out from Dead End.

“Hey, come have a look at this!” he shouted, gesturing to a fallen pillar. It was very old, that much was certain, and an Aztec style Decepticon Symbol had been carved into it. Steeljaw allowed himself a smirk, their first real clue.

“Well well, leave it to the old cyclops to hide something in plain sight,” Steeljaw chuckled to himself. “Logical? More like predictable in my mind.”

He pressed down on the crest, and the groaning of ancient gears opened up a deep yawning abyss right in front of them. Picking up a rock, Steeljaw tossed it and waited to hear it hit the ground. After a few minutes, he heard it hitting… something. Something metallic.

Dead End, Steeljaw, and Breakdown all wisely backed up, fearing they’d awoken something very ancient, something very powerful and something very angry.

After a few moments of tense waiting, nothing happened. “Well, looks like whatever it was, it’s a deep sleeping. Boys, grab your grappling hooks and prepare to descend,” Steeljaw barked out.

“H-Hey Steeljaw,” Flich piped up, nervously circling above them in her jet form. “J-Just be careful. I don’t want you to be swallowed up by some ancient death god okay?”

“I’ll be fine, if anything I’ll just throw Dead End to the thing instead,” Steeljaw joked. “He’d probably like that.”

Dead End made a face, idly considering the possibility. He admitted it was an interesting prospect. Probably a quick if not brutal death to be sure. Probably a better one than he’d endure by Unicron’s hands.

“Har har,” Filch laughed, not amused in the slightest. “Very funny.”

“Okay, so what we got here boys,” Breakdown piped up. “Is what’s called a cenote. Advanced as they were, the Mayans did have a penchant for human sacrifice.”

“Lovely to know,” Steeljaw deadpanned. “Any other utterly fascinating trivia?”

“Well, actually-”

“Save it, don’t want to hear it. I was being sarcastic, you dunce.” Steeljaw groaned as the three rappelled into the sinkhole. 

“Just asking here, but what if we do find one of our snake guys in here?” Dead End had to ask, as the darkness of the hole threatened to consume them. “I mean what, should we hope and pray to Primus for our souls to be saved?”

“No, we bargain,” Steeljaw said. “We talk, get ourselves to seem like less of an interesting prospect for a meal.”

They finally reached the bottom of the cenote after a few minutes, and turned on their various vehicular modes’ headlights. A small lake was in front of them, but that wasn’t all. No, there just so happened to be this dark green scaled snake, with crimson red wings. A massive door rested beyond, and despite the humidity, Steeljaw shivered. He had to wonder, was that built to keep something out… or something in? Whatever the case, he had half a mind to turn back now and run. He got the feeling he was somewhere he definitely shouldn’t have been.

“...Yeah, might want to start thinking of how to bargain soon.” Breakdown noted. 

Steeljaw noted the various carvings on the walls, some of which looked to be man-made. This could connect with his currently working theory that the snake was friendly in some format, and protected those who showed it great respect, and was only violently territorial. There was a chance, a small one mind you, that they could live to see the next sunrise.

“Let’s just take this thing slow, and wake it up… carefully. I don’t think even Onslaught, or slag, Bruticus could take this thing on if it went online and got rather cheesed off at us for doing so.” Dead End mused.

“Uh yeah, might not have to worry about that,” Breakdown remarked, running his scanners along the beast. “To quote a certain TV doctor, he’s dead Jim,” he said, drawing a light glyph in midair with a finger that was meant as respect for the deceased.

Steeljaw quirked an eyebrow, he had no idea Breakdown watched human TV shows. But then his mind registered what Breakdown had just said.

“Wait, what do you mean he’s dead? How could have it…?” Steeljaw trailed off, shuddering at the monster’s perpetual stare.

“Well, got a guess and it ain’t pretty,” Breakdown replied. “He was sealed up in here, probably for Primus knows how long and Primus only knows why but my best guess? Burned up his own internal energy reserves.”

“Poor bastard starved to death,” Dead End muttered, shaking his head. “Not the way I’d want to go out. What’s that old saying? Oh yes, now I remember. “When a Spark goes online, there is great joy. When one is extinguished, the universe weeps,” he said, shutting the eyelids of the once great beast.

But something didn’t line up. These carvings on the wall, they didn’t match up with the age of the beast, who seemed to have been dead for a while now. Actually, come to think of it, the carvings didn’t look man-made at all. In fact, they almost looked…

“...Cybertronian.” Steeljaw whispered, and slowly but surely the great door behind Kukulkan or whoever he might have been in life opened and out stepped a figure, awash with color and holding one very dangerous looking sword.

“Ahora quién eres y por qué has profanado la tumba de mi hermano Skyquake. Habla ahora, o serás silenciado por siempre.” Quetzalcoatl spoke.







Back at the Autobase, in Fowler’s personal office the former Army Ranger found himself in a… mood. He’d heard about what happened down at the Bay, with Snaptrap, Sky-Byte and Indigo. More specifically, how Indigo had almost drowned no thanks to Snaptrap.

Swearing, Fowler punched the wall, nearly knocking off his desk lamp from the sheer force of the blow.

His thoughts were a turmoil. On one hand, he had Robots risking everything and laying themselves on the line for his family members…

“Fuel line’s been breached, you three need to get going now!” Knock Out stated quickly, without hesitation. “Be careful with the woman, spinal fractures. She needs proper medical treatment, like yesterday!”

“E-Excuse me?” Fowler barked out as he began moving the woman to his own car. “Me, take orders from a Con?”

“No, take orders from a medic,” Knock Out replied. He’d also noted the way Fowler was carrying the woman, and how he held her tighter than should have been normal for any random person just stopping to help. He also noted that Sunny was casting nervous glances at the woman every now and then. “Now get in!” he barked, even as he transformed back into vehicle mode, and both of his doors opened.

Fowler and Sunny shared a brief look, and then a look back at the trashed car and the fuel leaking from it with electrical lines dangling dangerously above it and beginning to spark. Then, they made their choice.

Fowler, as he wrapped gauze around the woman’s neck handed her over to Sunny as he took the driver’s seat.

“Floor it!” he yelled, and Knock Out didn’t even need to be told as his tires squealed and he peeled off into the distance just as a large fireball was visible in his rearview mirror.

“So… so what do you get out of this?” Sunny asked, her voice growing ever more dangerous with each passing moment even as she stroked the woman’s hair as she rested in her lap. Knock Out winced, he could see where she was definitely Fowler’s daughter. “I mean, aside from helping to clean up a mess you caused, Decepticon.”

“Honestly?” Knock Out mused, even as he drove up the road to Canterlot, his onboard navigation system set to the nearest hospital. “Absolutely nothing, I’m just doing the right thing.”

But then again, he had children caught up in a war they shouldn’t even be in. They should be worried about things like their grades, pimples, their love lives and not getting blasted to smithereens by stray laser fire or drowned by giant sea serpents. And to make things even worse, now he had a new charge to worry about in Juniper Montage.

“Goddamnit!” Fowler whispered quietly. “They… They shouldn’t have this burden placed upon them!”

A door softly opened, and Fowler didn’t bother to look up. He already knew who it was.

“You forget, you didn’t make this choice for them, neither did the Autobots. Those kids, they chose to get themselves involved of this of their own free will,” Spitfire reminded him. “I don’t like it either, but we can’t force them to just drop this. They want to help. And honestly, given what we’ve seen so far, with the Autobots’ forces as low as they are, they need all the help they can honestly get…”

“Suppose you have a point there…” Fowler admitted, remembering how the Decepticons’ forces seemed to be growing in number and power every passing day. God only knew how many Cons really did come to Earth, and now that they knew there were simply ancient Transformers on Earth with no real allegiances -The wild cards if you will- things just got ever more complicated. “B-But you have to forgive me for being concerned here,” Fowler whispered. “What if that had been my daughter that nearly died? It could have very well been!”

“Yeah…” Spitfire trailed off, rubbing Fowler’s shoulders. “We’re insects compared to those creatures, but this is our world as well. This is our fight. Soon as the Decepticons came to our planet, they made it our fight whether we liked it or not.”

“Yeah, our fight,” Fowler pointed out. “Not theirs. Not the kids. This is a matter that should be left to the adults, fully trained military men of the United States and whatever other countries the ‘Cons decide to invade and terrorize. Take Japan, for example. The ‘Cons raided a power plant there, so we know they won’t stop at the US. God only knows what their end game is, but whatever it is, Onslaught seems intent on involving the whole world in it.”

“And we will stop him, along with every one of his followers,” Spitfire stated firmly. “We fight, that’s all we can do. Just fight, and hope and pray everything will turn out alright in the end. You know, soon as we started this job, I didn’t like it either just seeing the Autobots as an unwanted pain in the neck and more paperwork. But now, they’re like family to me as I see them lay their lives on the line every day. Semper Fidelis. Always Loyal, Always Faithful. That’s how it goes. Never leave a man behind. I’d never leave one of them behind, would you?”

“No… No I wouldn’t. Much as I hate to admit it, they’re family now as well. Just for looking out for my daughter as best as they can. They’ve earned that much.” Fowler admitted, thinking of Prowl’s unwavering stance on bringing these criminals to justice. He had to admire that, never giving up or backing down even in his… condition. “They’ve helped us so many times, so I think it’s time we start giving back eh?”

“Believe me, way ahead of you on that line of thinking,” Spitfire smirked. “Next time the ‘Cons decide to call, they’ll have a surprise waiting for them. I have a few old contacts left, some in the army and some elsewhere. They want to mess with this planet? Well, they’ve got another think coming…”
> Part 19: Nature of the Beast
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mexico: The Tomb of Skyquake

“Ahora, te pregunto de nuevo. ¿Qué estás haciendo profanando la tumba de mi hermano, Cybertronian? Responda rápidamente, y podría reconsiderar la separación de su cabeza de sus hombros.” Quetzalcoatl snarled, his energon blade glinting dangerously, and Steeljaw swallowed nervously, looking up at the tri-pronged crown resting atop Quetzalcoatl’s head. Truly a Predaking if there ever was one.

“Slag yourself, you glitch-head!” Steeljaw cursed himself. “Should have calculated that any surviving Predacons here would have adapted and spoke the native language!”

Laughing nervously, Steeljaw switched his translation matrix over to Spanish. Bowing to his feet, Steeljaw spoke.

“Su Alteza, me disculpo por la entrada inesperada y francamente bastante grosera, pero no sabíamos que esta era la tumba de su hermano. De hecho, no esperábamos que estuviera muerto en absoluto. Lo admito, estábamos esperando todo lo contrario y es por eso que nos ven fuertemente armados como nosotros.” Steeljaw replied, meaning Your Highness, I apologize for the unexpected and frankly rather rude entrance but we did not know this was your brother's tomb. In fact, we were not expecting him to be dead at all. I admit, we were expecting quite the opposite which is why you see us as heavily armed as we are.

“¿Por qué has venido aquí, debo preguntar en ese caso?” Quetzalcoatl asked.

Steeljaw was swift to reply. “Antes de que esto continúe, ¿puedo preguntar su verdadero nombre porque sé que no puede ser el que los humanos le dieron, su Alteza y el Señor Quetzalcoatl?”

That one meant: Before this continues any further, can I ask for your real name because I know for a fact that it cannot be the one humans gave you, your Highness and Lord Quetzalcoatl?

“Lord Quetzalcoatl,” the Predacon said in distaste at the name, admitting to himself it had been far too long since he had gone by his real moniker. “Sí, admito que ese es el nombre que me dieron las carnicerías antiguas, y supongo que está bien si le doy mi verdadero nombre Onyx Prime: Thunderclash.”

“Adecuado, para el guardián del cielo y el portador de tormentas.” Steeljaw replied meaning: Adequate, for the guardian of heaven and the bearer of storms.

“Por Onyx Prime, casi me olvido de los títulos pretenciosos que los humanos me dieron.” Thunderclash muttered, shaking his head in distaste.

“Now, can we drop the dialect, and go back to our original Cybertronian tongue, Lord Thunderclash?” Steeljaw asked. “I find it… taxing to not speak in my original language.”

“Agreed,” Thunderclash remarked. “Now, I must ask for you and your fellows’ names. It would be rude for me to give up my own, without you giving up yours in return would it not?”

“Um… Yes, quite,” Steeljaw replied, rather unnerved. One minute, this Thunderclash character was quite willing to kill them all and now he was speaking quite politely as if they were having a few glasses of Jamaica iced tea. It scared him a little bit, to be honest. “My name is Steeljaw, and this is Breakdown and Dead End. I have a friend up there, a fellow member of the Predacon species named Flich, watching from the skies for any unwanted intruders shall we say.”

It wasn’t for the fact that Thunderclash could switch between demeanors so quickly that unnerved Steeljaw. No, it was because he reminded him of himself. Even as Breakdown and Dead End introduced themselves, he flashed back to days long ago on Cybertron…

In a contest between resources and ingenuity, never underestimate ingenuity. That’s what Steeljaw’s brother Gekisōmaru had always told him. Funny how Steeljaw had failed to listen to his advice and now he was currently caught up between a mob war over energon between his boss Thunderhoof’s crew, and that of the crew of the former Decepticon turned gangster Black Shadow.

Really, he should have used his ingenuity about then, and got out when it was clear everything had turned for the worst. 

But no, he’d been an idiot about things and was now shaking down a soon to be scrap neutral named Roadblock. 

“Tell me again, nicely,” Steeljaw snarled as he grabbed Roadblock by his throat and shoved him up against a wall. “Where is Black Shadow keeping his energon stash? I’d answer quickly if I were you because my friend behind me here? He’s not so nice you see.”

He gestured with a finger to a towering aqua Decepticon that seemed to wear antlers atop his head.

“W-Who is that?” Roadblock choked out. That really did it, and the Decepticon let out a snarl, and stamped his foot.

“So there's this bot, see? Goes by the name a' Thunderhoof. Heard of 'im? No? Well, youse is about to...” the now named Thunderhoof growled as he marched forwards energon pistol in hand. Steeljaw held up a hand to stop him, and dropped a very relieved Roadblock.

“Woah woah, no need for such… crude tactics,” Steeljaw replied. “There’s a simple way to do this,” he continued, before turning back to Roadblock. “Listen, I genuinely want to be friends with you here, I do. I’m only being forced to do this by the big dumb lug over there.”

Thunderhoof growled, but Steeljaw ignored him and continued talking. “Now, you can tell me where the Energon stash is, and we can go on about our day or I can smash your faceplate in and just ask the next bot standing in line. Promise I’ll pay your hospital bills. I’m a nice enough bot.” Steeljaw said.

“N-Now listen, I don’t know of any Energon stashes! I’m just a normal everyday guy, works a 9 to 5 job down by the docks moving building materials and loading them into trucks, that’s all!”

Steeljaw honestly wanted to believe him, as fear and intimidation never got anyone anywhere. To be quite frank, he (Roadblock) was more likely to be telling the truth to save his own spark. But every now and then, Steeljaw and he couldn’t explain it, got the urge to smash someone’s spark in, and rip it out with his own bare claws.

Which was exactly what happened next.

“...Hey, thought youse was going to be nice about things eh?” Steeljaw asked. “I don’t recall killin’ the poor bot in anyone’s definition of being nice unless it was a mercy kill for what I was about to do,” Thunderhoof remarked. “I’ll be truthfully honest with you now, he wasn’t important. Slag, he wasn’t even a member of Black Shadow’s gang. I just needed someone to take the fall for all the killings I’ve been doing, youse see?”

Steeljaw’s optics widened in shock. 

“Oh, you thugs are so predictable. Youse always think youse is so smart. But word of advice, never underestimates the boss!” Thunderhoof laughed.

“Word of advice,” came Nacelle’s voice as both Thunderhoof and Steeljaw turned to see both him and Strongarm pointing their weapons at him. Prowl stood behind the two cops, arms crossed. “Don’t gloat. Been tracking you two for days, just needed you to commit a crime for us to actually move in on you,” he stated as Prowl cuffed them both.

“So the cops let a bot die under their watch huh?” Thunderhoof laughed. “Never would have thought-”

Then, ‘Roadblock’ faded away.

“Holographic projection, new tech devised by the Elite Guard. Still in the prototype stages, but it works as an excellent stunt double. All the real Roadblock had to do, was say his lines,” Prowl smirked. “Take them away!”

So, in the end, Steeljaw learned his lesson even when being led away. His only small sense of satisfaction was that Thunderhoof was going down for the same murder, along with many times more. Sadly, that urge to hunt and kill, which Steeljaw tried to fight back with every waking moment reared itself once again and he escaped from custody not even a few cycles later killing a large number of guards in the process and making him one of Cybertron’s most wanted criminals and leading him right into Onslaught’s waiting claws. There was only one place left for him now, and that was as an outcast forever hated even by his own brothers and Onslaught, the bastard, knew this all too well...

“So, I get keeping watching over your brother’s corpse,” Dead End questioned, a finger on his faceplate in thought. “But shouldn’t you have burned through your internal energon reserves as well?”

“Yes, under normal circumstances I would have,” Thunderclash stated. “However, I had access to this,” he stated, holding up a very distinctive golden orb covered in Cybertronian Glyphs. Dead End’s eyes widened, being a former archivist he knew exactly what that was.

“That’s… that’s an Energon Harvester, built by ancient Autobots!” he stammered out in complete and utter disbelief. “But how did you get your hands on such a thing?”

An Energon Harvester, it was simple in design and concept. Built for one purpose, and one purpose alone, to harvest energon veins from otherwise unmineable deposits on various planets. Say for example you had an entire mountain on top of your energon crystals, and it was impossible or just outright time consuming to dig through the miles and miles of dirt and rock. So, this is where the Energon Harvester came in. You simply pointed it in the direction of the deposit, and it sucked all of the energy contained within into a little pocket of subspace contained within the orb. It was a masterpiece of engineering for sure, but one that could have been easily perverted.

The Decepticons, especially ones named Shockwave knew this and reworked the technology into shotgun weapons that sucked small snippets of energon from a target into the user’s own internal reserves. Anyone who used these weapons, most notably the personal Seeker squadrons of Starscream known only as the Eradicons -More poetically known as the Silver Arrows- instantly became some of the most feared warriors on Cybertron.

“Y-You mind pointing that thing away from me?” Dead End stammered out, backing away nervously with Breakdown following. “No offense, but having every inch of energon sucked up from you and you trying to go for that last gasp of air before your spark finally goes? Slow and painful way to go out, and I don’t fancy it.”

“I… I agree with Dead End much as I hate to admit it, point that thing elsewhere will you?” Breakdown exclaimed.

“I was never going to use it on you, I had no intentions of doing so and I never will,” Thunderclash said curtly. “My brother, on the other hand, might have, but I would not. As to answer your original question, Skyquake and may Onyx Prime bless his spark swiped it from Shockwave when we escaped his laboratory to Earth via Spacebridge. Been using it to mine ancient deposits on Earth for eons, but Skyquake got too greedy and used up his own fuel reserves striking terror in humankind and showing them his true power to assert his dominance. A fool’s death in the end.” he explained shaking his head sadly. 

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Steeljaw said, laying a hand on the slightly taller bot’s shoulder in genuine sympathy.

“I have been given plenty of time to grieve,” Thunderclash replied. “Now, I presume you four are here because you want something? Like say… to recruit me to your cause?” he asked, as Flich landed nearby and transformed from beast mode to bot mode.

“No, milord! We would never think of-”

“Spare me your lies and sniveling,” Thunderclash snarled, and with a swing of his hand sent Steeljaw flying backwards into the other end of the tomb. “Who do you think I am? Stupid? I’ve been monitoring Decepticon and Autobot communication systems ever since you landed on this planet, and so I figured out you would come for me eventually just as soon as you learned of Sky-Byte, Scylla’s and Snaptrap’s existence. Do not think that flattery will keep you alive. Such is the nature of evil. In time all foul things come forth.” he snarled, the ancient legends of the fury of the Aztec gods coming full force. “Do not take me, nor yourselves for fools Decepticons. Heed my warning. You are being used. You are only ever a means to an end. The coward Onslaught has weighed the value of your lives and found them... worth... NOTHING! He will betray you in the end you know, such as the nature of prideful tyrants like him. Do you not know what is coming? If not, I only pity you. I’ve heard Onslaught’s private conversations with that little whore Flamewar, what he plans to do. Run now, and run fast if you want to live from the coming fire.”

Then, the very distinctive sounds of engines roaring and revving reached everyone’s audio receptors. “So, the coward finally comes to battle in person,” Thunder Clash stated before parts began to shift, twist and merge with a very distinctive sound and Thunder Clash had resumed his beast mode of a rainbow-colored winged serpent, massive in size and with a maw filled with sharp metallic fangs. He turned to Flich. “Tend to your wounded Corvicon. Right now, I must defend my brother's tomb from these… usurpers.” he stated in disgust before taking to the skies eyes alright with a rage unseen.

To the Vehicons credit, they were not that intimidated at least on the outside and just drove up out of the jungle in their new Rally Fighter alt-modes -Having ditched their Cadillac Cien modes just for this mission- and their hoods opened up to reveal miniature Gatling guns.

Machine gun fire lit up the jungle as thunder cracked and lightning flashed as Thunder Clash snaked and wormed his way through the clouds only to reappear breathing streams of red-hot flame. Gas tanks ignited, and Vehicons blew sky high. The thunder of twin cannons reached Thunder Clash’s audio receptors as a massive anti-aircraft truck clad in a dark military blue with shades of brown smashed through some temple walls.

Thunder Clash coiled himself around the top of a nearby temple, and unfurled his wings and hissed at the newcomer.

“Onslaught, so you finally show your face instead of hiding in that crashed ship of yours,” Thunder Clash hissed out, a fork-like tongue jutting out of his mouth every now and then. “And here I was thinking you were just a simple coward who let his men do all the dirty work for him.”

Parts shifted and whirred as Onslaught took a bipedal stance with the two massive cannons ending up on his back to act as rifles and a blood-red visor stared the Predacon down as the Combaticon Commander crossed his arms. Onslaught, he was simply massive in his robot form almost reaching Thunder Clash’s own height and simply dwarfing everyone else around him.

“No, I’m just ticked off because you decided to decline my generous offer. Have a link with the Stunticons, saw everything they did, and heard everything they did. You dare doubt me and my plans, decline my generous offer?”

“I know your type Onslaught. I would have been a fool to take it. Always hungry for power, you simply just can’t get enough of it. Just like your boss. No, that would be incorrect. Apparently, if radio chatter is to be believed, Megatron switched sides and ended the war. You should have been wise enough to follow in his footsteps.” Thunder Clash stated.

“Very well, I tried. Destroy him, and take that Energon Harvester.” Onslaught ordered. 

A barrage of laser fire came down from the skies as Vehicons in jet form rocketed down to obey and attempt to destroy Thunder Clash. Keyword being attempt. They were all either rendered to nothing but ashes by his flaming breath or grabbed in Thunder Clash’s jaws and ripped in half sparks and energon fluid flying everywhere with some of the substance staining Thunder Clash’s maw. During all of this, he had never moved from his position, still curled around the temple.

Eventually, Thunder Clash uncoiled himself and launched himself right at the next wave of Vehicons and transformed in midair, the sheer impact of the landing sending some of the drones flying backwards while others were either skewered by Thunder Clash’s blade or had their energon sucked completely dry by the Harvester. One even just got grabbed and ripped completely in half.

“You want a piece of me?” Thunder Clash asked metalic feathered wings flared and teeth bared as he tossed the remnants aside. “How ‘bout two pieces?”

A fist slammed into his gold face, sending him crashing into a grove of trees. “It seems, as always,” Onslaught sighed in a half-bored tone, the other half dripping with anticipation. “I must do everything myself.”

Thunder Clash, groaning out in pain picked himself up off the ground and spat a bit of energon fluid and a tooth from his mouth. “Well, isn’t that just Prime?”

“Easy does it, Thunder Clash or whatever you choose to call yourself,” Onslaught mocked, delivering a flurry of punches to Thunder Clash’s face, stomach or anywhere else he could reach in unceremoniously brutal fashion. “Are you alright? Can you stand?”

One powerful smack to the face by Thunder Clash’s right wing promptly shut that little rant up.

“Can I stand? Can I stand? Kid, and you are one compared to me, I've been standin' since before it was fashionable,” Thunder Clash hissed out, rather unimpressed by Onslaught so far. “And you know something? Back on Cybertron, when Shockwave threw me in the old Kaon Gladorital Arena to prove my worth as a proper Predacon clone, I ended up seeing every two-bit, catchpenny Decepticon with a weapon that dared call themselves a warrior and I got the dents in my knuckles to prove every last inch of it. End of the day? I'm ready for anything you can throw at me. So go on then, take your best shot.”

“So go on then, show us that famous Predacon fighting spirit you and your kind are known to possess. That nature of the beast that resides with-”

Onslaught was soundly cut off by a punch to the faceplates. “You talk too much,” Thunderclash stated, drawing his blade as Onslaught recovered and pulled out his rifles. Shot after shot was blocked or deflected with Thunderclash barely moving an inch and hardly looking fazed. Onslaught roared in rage, and threw another flurry of punches which were either caught or just blocked by Thunder Clash's elbows.

A loud shriek cut through the howling stormy gales and a massive dark blue form lunged out of the jungle claws beared and throat glowing with an orange light before a hot blast of flame was sent towards Thunder Clash who shielded himself with one of his wings. He then grabbed Darksteel by the throat, slammed him into the ground several times before tossing him into Onslaught.

“Bow before your king," he told the hippogriff Predacon, who was now soundly unconscious. “I hope that was a short, sharp enough of a lesson for you.”

Well, it seemed he was unconscious before Darksteel's eyes shot open, and he let out a growl. “The only king I bow to is Predaking, you are not him.”

"Yes, well Predaking is on Cybertron and last I checked this was not that planet.”

As Darksteel let out another shriek of rage, he charged forwards only for his head to be soundly ripped off by Thunder Clash and the body fell to the ground, sparking and energon pooling out below Thunder Clash's feet. Onslaught meanwhile had only just now recovered and drew a blade of his own, wiping away energon from his shattered mouth plate.

“Boring! Is this really the best you can do?” Thunder Clash laughed. Swords met in the storm, blades sparking. Thunder Clash whirled around to slice Onslaught’s head clean from his shoulders as he promised he’d do to Steeljaw before but was met with Onslaught’s own sword. The Combaticon lunged and stabbed Thunder Clash in the stomach before pulling out his blade making the massive Predacon stagger backwards before another right cross sent him crashing to the ground.

“No, far from it. You know, I was in the Elite Guard back in the day, back before it meant just glorified protection detail for the higher-ups. Back when we were frontline soldiers. There was this incident on Hydrax 4. I was battling one of my future comrades in arms, wouldn’t you know it? So the Decepticon says, 'I may not have a gun, but I have a bomb!' And pulls the pin. Wouldn't you know it was a dud? So there he is, optics darting between us and the useless metal sphere in his hand, and he still has the gall to say, 'I AM THUNDERWING! ONE DAY YOU WILL ALL PAY FOR THIS!' I was afraid that not even the stasis cuffs were going to shut him up. Surprisingly, he lived to see the end of the war actually. I always thought Sentinel or Optimus Prime would blast him to pieces. Or maybe even Megatron out of sheer annoyance. In the end, guy fled off to some unknown moon. Nobody’s seen him since though I swear he’s still out there plotting and planning to stab me in the back and become the new Decepticon leader. Point being, I’ve learned never to underestimate anyone,” Onslaught regaled. “And you are no exception. I grant you the honor and respect of being a fierce foe, but time to end this.”

With that, he picked up Thunder Clash, and held him high over his head, before bringing him down on his knee with a sickening Crack! Sound before tossing the broken body aside.

“Such beastial nonsense,” Onslaught sighed, and the last thing Thunder Clash saw before his optics closed and he drifted out into unconsciousness was Onslaught smashing the Energon Harvester beneath his feet with a mutter of: “So uncivilized. Such a crude weapon for the modern age.”

With that, he Groundbridged out gesturing for everyone to follow. Breakdown and Dead End did, but Breakdown with more than a hint of reluctance. Filch and Steeljaw however, that was a different story.

“Flich!” Steeljaw barked out. “Get your med-kit, we’re patching this guy up and damn the consequences! He protected us, warned us about Onslaught and his wrath and we entirely failed to listen until it was far too late. I’d say we owe him one...”

And with that, they set to work hoping and praying to Onyx Prime for a miracle.






Knock Out took a deep breath and sighed to himself. Then he took several more deep breaths. This was all going to go fine and dandy. Perceptor’s new invention would work, his spark signature would be hidden from anyone and all he had to do was provide the lines for his doppelganger to say.

A very handsome doppelganger, if he had to admit it to himself. He was absolutely right, he did look good in steel belted radials.

“Something wrong Knock Out?” Hound asked, pointing the projection towards a riverbed. They’d chosen a forest outside of town as the meeting place. Neutral ground, and if everything went sour the only people in danger were the Cybertronians. No humans to speak of. “You need a drip pan or something?”

“N-No, it’s hardly that! I’m no creaky old bot!” Knock Out soundly refuted sounding rather offended. To his surprise, Hound laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Relax, everything’s going to go just fine. Our spark signatures are hidden, and all you have to do is read off your lines. Back on Cybertron, done this a few times before whenever the police needed a stunt double of sorts. You ever wondered how Steeljaw and Thunderhoof were arrested?”

“Well, now that you mention it, I have always been curious…” Knock Out admitted, rubbing his chin,

“Created a stunt double of this construction worker, guy named Roadblock that Thunderhoof thought was involved with Black Shadow and both he and Steeljaw ‘killed’ him and that little show they put on? Enough to get them arrested on murder charges, plenty on Thunderhoof’s side with all the ones he blabbed about in his gloating. Rule of thumb, if you’re a criminal, keep quiet about it in the end I guess. Point being, I know what I’m doing here and so does Prowl so you have nothing to worry about.”

“Well, you say that, but earlier I had this little conversation with my Conjunx Endura, Breakdown checking in on me to make sure you lot hadn’t done anything to me and just before I shut it off I learned he was going after Quetzalcoatl in Mexico, or at least the Predacon inspiration for him and if any of the myths about him are true, by all accounts the guy had a nasty temper. I… I just don’t want to see…”

Hound winced. Although they were on opposing sides, him and Breakdown he still couldn’t feel but a pang of sympathy towards Knock Out.

He took a deep breath and sighed.

“Listen, you’re not the only one who’s ever had a loved one in the firing line. Hell, I’ve got a Conjunx Endura of my own. Yeah, I know, hard for someone like you to imagine someone as stiff as I am getting spark-bonded but here I am. Guy’s name is Hot Rod, has very little impulse control and constantly getting himself into scrapes. But he’s in the Elite Guard and stationed on a outpost on the planet of Velocitron. Fitting really, given he loves to race and that planet loves speed.”

“Yeah, I know. Been there a few times myself, or at least watched the races on the holo-net,” Knock Out replied. 

“Point being,” Hound clarified. “You needn’t worry so much, it’s only natural I know but our bondmates can generally handle themselves. Breakdown’s as tough as they come, paranoid as he is. Stunticons are hard to put down. I should know. Tangled with Motormaster, the guy did not go down easily when I tried to force him into stasis cuffs.”

“Never thought I’d say this, but thanks, man. I really needed that,” Knock Out smiled before he saw Flamewar Groundbridging into the area, Prowl and the Knockout holoform awaiting her. “Oh, that’s my cue…”

Flamewar strode forwards, her hunter’s bow resting on her back. A vial full of a strange green liquid rested on one of her hips. Prowl’s optics narrowed slightly, that must have been the cure.

“So, finally ready to give yourself back up to the winning team eh Knocks?” Flamewar cackled, in an almost hyena-like tone. “Gotta say, you were always too nice for your own good. If you ask me, you should just let your captors burn out for what they did to you. Locking you up like that, and letting poor old Breakdown worry about you to no end!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, but I’m still a medic even if I’m a criminal law. My oath says never to leave a bot behind, even if they’re a dick,” Knock Out stated, putting on as much of a show as he could. From the Autobase, Perceptor, Road Rage, and Fowler listened in on every word with Fowler having military jets on standby just in case something were to go wrong. “Now, just hand over the cure and we can go on about our day eh? You take me in, and the Autobots you infected get cured. We all win.”

Suddenly, to both Prowl and just about everyone else’s surprise, Flamewar pulled out her bow and in one clean shot fired an arrow right through Hound’s spark casing dispersing the hologram before dropkicking Prowl in the face knocking him flat, with another arrow pointed directly at his faceplates.

“Hound!” Road Rage shouted over the radio as soon as she saw his spark signature go offline. Flamewar smirked.

“How stupid do you think I am, Autobots?” Flamewar sneered, savoring the despair of Road Rage, and everyone else who was listening in. “Seriously, this old tactic? Steeljaw told us about it when we captured him cycles ago, so we prepared ourselves for something like this. Spark-Masking, one of the oldest tricks in the book. It’s a new age, or it’s about to be. You wanted us to play by your rules cop? Really should have expected us never to play by anyone’s rules.”

She then craned her head towards the treeline and singsonged: “Oh Knock Out, come out and play! I know you’re there!”

Knock Out with a roar of rage and buzzsaws bared swung out his arm and very nearly decapitated Flamewar had she not stepped to the side. Prowl, at this very same moment, leaped upwards and grabbed the vial off of her and pocketed it before punching her with a right cross, his fists now having two brass knuckles glowing with a bright blue energy. The Decepticon Hunter Knock Out had heard about, he figured.

“Perceptor, bridge Hound out of here. He’s not going to be meeting Primus just yet, not if I have anything to say about it!” Prowl barked into the comms before he and Knock Out were forced to make a run for it as Flamewar began firing energy arrow after energy arrow. Quickly transforming to their vehicle modes, they made a break for it driving through the treeline towards the freeway they knew was just a few miles away.

“Perceptor, soon as we hit the freeway, get us a Groundbridge!” Knock Out ordered.

“Sorry, no can do. I’m still dragging Hound to the CR Chamber, and hoping and praying to Primus he’ll pull through. I’ve got work to do. You need to fend off Flamewar as long as you can, force her into a retreat! Swordbreaker, Swerve, quit standing around and give me a hand here!” the scientist barked. “Slaggit, sometimes I’m really not cut out for this job…” he then muttered to himself.

Back at base, Road Rage’s optics narrowed. “I’m going,” she stated, throwing open a groundbridge with a switch. “Don’t you dare try and stop me.”

“But your condition!” Perceptor shouted, as he was handed patch-kits and hooked up a tube to Hound’s opened chest cavity and began feeding him raw energon.

“Screw that, if I have my way that cure will be in our hands soon anyway so you won’t have to worry about it! Besides, Hound was and still is my friend here and I think if he dies, I’m damn well going to avenge him. Preferably by taking Flamewar’s head!” she shouted, before with a quick shifting of parts she was in her vehicle mode, V-8 engine revving angrily. Fowler rushed over, and threw open the passenger door. “You nuts, Fowler?”

“May not like him, but Knock Out saved both my wife and my daughter’s lives on two separate occasions and the way I see it I owe him that much. Plus, you’re in no condition to act on your own. You need backup.”

“Agreed, and you’ve got spunk. For a human. Now, hold on!” Road Rage roared and floored it tires squealing and kicking up smoke before she rushed out the groundbridge.
> Part 20: Rage Against the Machine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Road Rage was mad. No, she was beyond that. She was pissed. And it sure as hell showed in her driving style, physically ramming two Vehicons out of the way not even giving mind to the damage the tactic dealt to her vehicle mode’s bodyframe. Tires squealing as they hit the pavement, horns honking and civilians rushing by, the freeway was the scene of chaos.

Fowler felt himself slammed back into his seat as Road Rage swerved in-between the various cars trying as hard as she could to avoid actually hitting any that weren’t Decepticon in origin.

She heard the distinctive sound of Flamewar’s engine from behind her, and let out a growl. She, she was responsible for this. She was responsible for Hound laying in a CR Chamber close to death being force-fed energon through tubes.

Smashing between the lane dividers making Fowler lurch his head forwards, she pulled up alongside Flamewar and tried to slam her into the side of a stone wall but the superbike only pulled ahead and left Road Rage smashing into the wall instead. The highway, it cut through hills and the valley curving and dipping every so often.

“Focus girl,” Fowler advised as he saw Road Rage’s speedometer go well over 120 miles an hour. “I’m as mad as you are, but the last thing I want is to explain to my superiors why a Corvette caused a massive traffic accident, and why I was behind the wheel of said Corvette!”

“Screw your superiors, and their damn Bureaucracy and any damn traffic laws,” Road Rage growled out in her anger as she resumed the chase. “That bitch needs to pay!”

“Look, that cure’s going to be no good to you or Prowl if you smash it up by slamming into everything and everyone,” Fowler advised, barely holding back the hamburger he’d had for lunch that day. “So keep your focus, and calm down. You’ve got two ‘Cons coming up from the rear, and coming fast.”

Road Rage, living well up to her codename checked her rearview, and confirmed Fowler was right. Two Vehicons, disguised as Cadillac Ciens were indeed coming up from behind and trying to box her in.

Road Rage, if she could have in her current mode would have smirked and let her foot off the gas so the two Vehicons could smash right into each other instead.

Another tried to ram her from the side but was smashed into a wall, and flipped upside down by the collision ending up in a huge fireball via Knock Out.

“Thought you cared so much about your finish?” Road Rage remarked.

“And see my handler get slagged? Nuh-uh, I think I can make an exception in this case,” the Aston Martin alt-moded Decepticon remarked in a slightly joking but mostly serious tone. A far cry from his usual self indeed. “I’ve got the cure, we just need to get out of range of these bozos and get a Groundbridge out of here,” he stated before going for comms. “Prowl, what’s your status?”

“I’m up ahead, getting in contact with local police forces and asking them to clear the freeway as much as they can. I don’t want any more lives lost today. Especially any human ones. Not a single one.” the Autobot stated.

“Much as I hate to break it to you,” Knock Out replied. “But that’s not going to be easy. Piss off or even endanger Flamewar, and you’re in a whole heaping of trouble. Congrats, you’ve done both. My guess is, Onslaught’s going to be sending either the rest of the Combaticons or his personal squad of Eradicons to back her up. Neither option is preferable. In either case, you’d best be ready for the fight of your lives.” he warned.

“No, they’d best be ready…” Road Rage growled. “If Hound’s dying today, I’m going to make sure it’s not in vain, and a few Decepticons join the Allspark along with him!”

Knock Out hmmed, before lowering his passenger side window and had his holodriver toss the cure to Road Rage, or more accurately Fowler. He trusted him more than her to keep it intact.

“No leaks, not one single dollop,” he stated seriously before the sound of Groundbridges opening reached his audio receptors. “Scrap, here they come…” the former Stunticon muttered.

Sure enough, Vehicons in the form of Local Motors Rally Fighters were appearing in their rearview.

“...Well, that’s a new one.” Road Rage muttered.

“By Abraham Lincoln’s Star Spangled britches…” Fowler murmured to himself. “...I really should have taken that job at the Pentagon like my boss General Bryce advised me to. Nice cushy desk job, and no risk of me being killed by Mad Max wannabes from space!”

“You think he’s talking about us or them?” Road Rage asked, as small miniguns popped up from the Eradicons’ hoods.

“Does it matter?” Knock Out asked as the sounds of click, click, brrrrrrrrt! started up as the guns began to fire. Fowler ducked his head to keep his brain from being splattered all over Road Rage’s now shattered windscreen.

Swerving left and right to avoid the shots, tires squealing out in protest the two Cybertronians continued playing their dangerous game of cat and mouse up and down the freeway.

From a nearby on-ramp, more Cien Vehicons as Fowler would decide to call them entered the battlefield. 

“Going to be really hard to keep your guys under wraps after this…” Fowler muttered to himself. “Maybe I should say nerve gas from a terrorist attack causing mass delusions and hysteria, or someone’s filming a movie…”

Road Rage’s engine roared once more as she rammed a Vehicon head-on causing it to flip end over end several times before it landed on one of the Rally Fighters Eradicons behind Road Rage with the two Decepticons exploding in one huge fireball.

“Yep, movie. Michael Bay movie probably, this is sorta his thing really…” Fowler muttered to himself. “Big explosions, and inane stunts like this? Yep, out of one of his films.”

“Who’s Michael Bay?” Knock Out asked.

“Beats me, don’t care really,” Road Rage remarked in reply. “Prowl, best advice?”

“Get off the freeway at the nearest possible chance, take this cross country as the humans like to call it. Only ones that’ll be in danger then will be us, not the humans!” he ordered, and Road Rage took a sharp swerve to the left as she smashed through a guardrail with Knock Out following after her into the nearby fields with the Eradicons and Vehicons swift to follow.

“Fowler, any chance of a military assist?” Knock Out asked. “Like a bombing run or something?”

“Sure, let me just call them up on speedial!” he snapped. “Let’s get real, even if I had my phone on me and I didn’t leave it back at base, I’d have a Hell of a lot of explaining to do on why I just asked for some Skystrikers to bomb farm fields and blow up what looks to be civilian drivers!”

“...Good point.” Knock Out acknowledged. “Don’t have to like it, but good point.”

He saw Prowl finally join them, smashing through a wooden line of fencing, sirens at full blast and light bar flashing.

“Alright then, now that we’re out of the civilians way, we can really do some damage,” he remarked, as panels on his body opened up, and two small cannons emerged, both firing balls of electricity. Both hit Vehicons, shorting out systems, all of their wheels locking and seizing up and stopping them dead in their tracks. One hit a huge boulder, and went up in a massive fireball with parts flying everywhere.

“Yeah, now that’s more like it!” Road Rage shouted as she pulled a full 180-degree turn and two cannons popped out of her chassis, both firing plasma shots at the Vehicon/Eradicon death squad. Few shots hit and lit up the countryside for the most part, even as she drove backwards with Fowler’s eyes nearly bulging out of their skull at this madwoman’s driving skills. But eventually, Road Rage got her eye in and managed to eliminate most if not all of the remaining pursuers with Prowl’s help.

“...Yeah, definitely a Michael Bay movie.” He muttered to himself.

Knock Out then shouted “Look out, mad biker incoming!” as Flamewar leaped off a hillside and in mid-air transformed into bot mode and pulled out her bow. Road Rage pulled another 180 and slammed hard on the brakes, with Fowler lurching forwards once more. 

“This is where you get out,” she said, with Fowler only too happy to oblige that order and finally tossing his cookies. As soon as that was over, he grabbed the cure and ran for cover behind some pine trees as the three Cybertronians transformed with the remaining Vehicons and Eradicons following.

“You know, after a long drive,” Knock Out said as he switched out both of his hands for buzzsaws. “It feels good to get out of the car, and kick some tailpipe!” he smirked.

“Gentlemen, would you be so kind as to stop their engines?” Flamewar asked mock sweetly as the Vehicons and Eradicons went for their weapons. “So, Road Rage is it? See you’ve got a little case of rage against the machine. So nice to see my virus works wonders!”

“You’re going to pay for that, and everything else you’ve done including killing Hound!” she snarled.

“Oh, was that his name?” Flamewar asked still in that mock sweet tone of hers. “Silly me. I’ve forgotten the names of how many I’ve killed.”

Road Rage let out another growl, bordering on a snarl of absolute fury.

“Easy Road Rage, don’t let her get to you,” Prowl advised, reaching for his pistol in hopes of firing off one single quick shot through Flamewar’s head. Sadly, it was not to be, as an arrow from her blasted it out of his hands.

“Oh, you’re such a bad boy…” she remarked. Fancy yourself a gunslinger eh?” Flamewar asked. “Well, my boys here would be happy to take you up on the challenge. Sadly, I cannot. As much as I’d love to stay and chat, I’ve got other things to do. And as much as I’d wish them to, none of them involve you at this current point in time. Ta-ta!” she said, before opening a Groundbridge and vanishing through it but not before leaving the order of: “Clean up the mess.” with narrowed eyebrows.

As soon as she’d left, the firing began. Road Rage pulled out a rifle, and weaved between trees avoiding the shots as they came and happily returning fire. They couldn’t risk a groundbridge of their own, not now with Fowler in danger and Decepticons all too happy to learn the location of their base.

Knock Out sliced and diced his way through the remaining squad members. Pinning one Vehicon to the ground, he smirked in an almost devilish manner. “Don’t worry, I’m a fully licensed surgeon. This won’t hurt a bit,” he said calmly, before decapitating the Vehicon in one quick movement, energon flying everywhere. This was about par for the course for the rest of the battle really, the rest of the Vehicons quickly falling to the Autobot weaponry.

Not even the Eradicons were safe, as Prowl had pulled out his Decepticon Hunter, changed it to a bo staff and was spinning it wildly deflecting shots in some cases sending them right back at the shooters themselves. Knock Out had gotten a similar idea, and had pulled out his electro staff and was spinning it wildly in a glow of blue light shoving it through Vehicon and Eradicon chests alike.

“Old shock and drop. Never fails,” he smirked.

“You know, keep that up and I may just begin to like it.” Road Rage sniped, as she sniped a Vehicon trying to come up at Knock Out from behind.

“What about me?”

“No, I still hate you,” she remarked.

“Au contraire, you’ll come around eventually… Everyone does.” Knock Out said with a wink and a smirk. Road Rage rolled her optics. Eventually, it was finally over and everyone Decepticon-aligned was in a smoking heap.

Of course, this battle had occupied so much of the foursome’s attention just trying to outmaneuver the Eradicons and stay alive they hadn’t noticed they’d had an observer. An old Toyota Hilux to be exact, parked atop a hillside.

The Hilux seemed to observe this mad dash across the fields and what resulted, almost if it were eyeing every player critically. It then pulled away, and drove off into the timberlands.

“So there are other Cybertronians on Earth… I knew it, I wasn’t seeing things!” the little Mini-Bot thought to herself as she thought back. She’d been in Japan, and had seen Hound, Prowl and even her old friend Swerve opening up a Groundbridge along with this human girl she hadn’t caught the name of, but she figured perhaps she’d been on Earth too long without contact from Cybertron and had just started imagining things. But now? Well, Smallfoot was only too happy to know she and the rest of the Van De Graaff’s crew weren’t alone on this planet after all.







The Autobase

Road Rage let out a small groan of pain as she felt the syringe needle pierce her plating but sighed in relief soon afterwards. She didn’t feel this terrible urge, this burning hatred to destroy everything in her path anymore like she had for the last few cycles, her T-Cog didn’t ache anymore every time she transformed. For the first time in a very long while, she felt… free.

Her face turned solemn as she turned to look towards Hound, all plugged up to all manners of machinery with tubes feeding vital energon from nearby containers. One massive tube, slowly rising and falling as it pumped energon was hooked up right to the hole in his chest, where Flamewar had shot him.

“Now, if only I could say the same for you old friend…” She sighed to herself as the Elite Guardswoman walked up to one of her oldest comrades in arms and stroked his faceplates tenderly before sitting down and fighting back a sob. “By Solus Prime, what are we supposed to tell Hot Rod, he’s going to want some answers!”

“I… I don’t know, honestly,” Perceptor muttered, shaking his head as he patted Road Rage on the shoulder sympathetically.

“The truth,” Prowl stated and everyone looked directly at him optics widened. “I don’t like it as much as you do, but he has the right to know. What are we supposed to do, hide it from him and say that his sparkmate’s alive and well, when it’s perfectly obvious he isn’t? Besides, Hot Rod, he’s already going to have felt it through his bond, that his Conjunx Endura’s lights are going out.”

“You… You have a point…” Perceptor muttered, even if he didn’t have to like said point. Breaking this sort of news was never easy for a medical bot. “I’ll… I’ll arrange a communique to Velocitron.”

Road Rage let out a snarl as she punched a cavern wall, cracking the stone beneath her fist. “And what, we’re supposed to just give up?” she barked. “Look, we may not have the best medical equipment but here we are, just telling ourselves to just pull Hound’s plug when we can save him if we just try a little fucking harder!”

Prowl sighed to himself, he always hated these sort of situations. What he had to say next would sound incredibly cold, sparkless even but looking at things logically there was only one possible course of action. “Look Road Rage, we have to face facts. Even if we didn’t pull the plug as you put it, Hound at best would be faced with a complete reformatting. If we did that, as soon as he emerged he wouldn’t be the same bot. He’d have a new frame, a new set of internal workings and most likely a completely new personality!”

“But he’d be alive, wouldn’t he?” Road Rage argued. 

“There’s no way of getting around it, the old Hound would be gone forever no matter what we do. I… I think it’s best we let him die a peaceful death, instead of turning him inside out and changing his base workings completely. Look, I know it’s hard. By Primus, I know it is. I’ve seen far too many comrades lost to battle more times than I can count, but-”

“But nothing!” Road Rage barked. “I don’t want to just sit here and let one of my oldest friends die, and say I stood by and did nothing in my power to save him!”

“But what can you do to save him?” Prowl asked. “You’re not a medic, you’re not a Priest of Primus, you’re just a simple soldier like I am. If I could, Primus damn if I could, I would help Hound in any way I could! Slag, I’d throw him into a pool of Rarified Energon or Forestonite and watch it do its work! But we don’t have that luxury! We barely have enough medical materials around here to patch up minor wounds, much less save a dying Autobot!” Prowl yelled, one of the few times his carefully crafted mask of being this emotionless logical by the book cop dropping completely before he muttered: “Damn you Hound, just damn you. Why’d you have to be so reckless…?”

“No,” Road Rage snarled venomously, and for a moment Prowl backed away carefully as it looked as if Road Rage was about to punch him before she seemingly thought the better of it. “Damn you Prowl. Damn you to the Pit,” she muttered to herself, before starting to walk off, wanting to be alone with her thoughts.

“Solus Prime, I just got back in fighting condition, but the cost... ?” she thought, taking one last long look at Hound. Then there was a loud crash, and everyone turned and saw Indigo along with the rest of the Shadowbolts holding Lemon, who’d fainted dead away at the sight of Hound.

“H-Hound…?” Indigo whispered tearfully.

“Oh, slag…” Prowl muttered, and mentally prepared himself for the long conversation that was soon to follow. Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away from the Autobase, a very different type of conversation was taking place...







Mexico:

Groaning out in pain, Thunderclash found himself in a deep cavern, undoubtedly somewhere in the miles of tunnels below Templo Mayor and Mexico City itself. At one end of the cavern was the ruins of some old subway tunnel closed off and left to rot. Thunderclash vaguely remembered back in the 1930s or so that the humans living above had tried to create a system before discovering that the deeper they burrowed the more their precious city sunk into the ground and so the project was scrapped. Nobody, except for the occasional maintenance worker ever really came down her anymore, at least this section of the line and so it made a perfect hiding place for him. Humans feared him, and rightly so but that didn’t mean Thunderclash had to like it. Long ago, they worshipped him before fear of what he could do turned them against him, forcing him to flee from the very creatures he was supposed to protect.

He did help from the shadows, such as when humans got trapped by landslides due to flooding or lost in the wilderness he helped them to safe passage but they never remembered him and thought him a hallucination or a UFO. They’d stopped believing in Gods and monsters for the most part, and adapted to a new modern age where creatures like Quetzalcoatl and Kukulkan were merely myths, stories to tell and to entertain.

That still didn’t help explain any what he was doing here, did it?

“Easy, steady yourself,” came Steeljaw’s voice. “Took quite a beating from my ‘leader’. You need to rest. You were leaking energon quite badly. If Flich hadn’t patched you up as well as she did…”

“For that, you have my eternal gratitude, ‘Decepticon’ and fellow Predacon.” Thunderclash said, looking at Filch, who was using a welding kit to close up some of Thunderclash’s remaining wounds.

“Yes, well, anything to help my King,” Filch said briefly looking upwards from her task to face Thunderclash.

“A king it seems,” Thunderclash sighed in disgrace and self-disgust. “Who has been soundly dethroned. I was arrogant, believing I could rule here on Earth over some of the other Predacons in the real Predaking’s absence. In my hubris, I allowed myself to believe nobody could defeat me. And yet, in defending my brother’s remains I allowed myself to be defeated, thus stripping me of my honor.”

“But you were defending your brother’s tomb, keeping it from being defiled,” Filch replied. “Is that not the code of a real Predacon, loyalty to one’s own kin? We’re all clones of the original breed, and in a way, I suspect you wanting to rule over the Predacons was loyalty to your own brothers and sisters and keep them from killing each other. Like it or not, they need a ruler here on Earth. Snaptrap’s conflict with Scylla and Sky-Byte was proof alone of that.”

“So, what will you two do now? I do not think Onslaught takes deserters lightly,” Thunderclash asked.

“Believe me, if it weren’t for fear of that thing he had as a hunter, we would have deserted long ago,” Steeljaw replied.

“What… thing?” Thunderclash asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Darksteel, that beast you ever so kindly decapitated in your rage and fury against the defiling of your brother’s tomb,” Steeljaw replied. “I’ve seen Darksteel in action, in the Kaon Gladiatorial Arenas, fighting tooth and nail to prove his worth as a Predacon. Believe me, I still have nightmares to this very day about what I saw in those battles he waged…”

“Ladies and assorted Gentlebots, have we got a treat for you tonight!” Swindle’s distinctive voice shouted over a roaring and cheering crowd from up in his small box. Chained to his little Roman emperor style throne were two small Predacons, one a midnight blue panther and the other a black wolf creature. “Two beastly experiments from the mind of Shockwave himself, going head to head in a battle to the death!”

The doors on both side of the arena raised up, and the two titanic machines trudged into it, gathering roars and cheers from the crowd. One of which was much larger than the other bot, and made the match feel more like David and Goliath rather than a simple fight to the death.

“To my left, we have the titan of the pits of Chaar, the crusher of chassis, the mountain of metal himself, Infernocus!” He swung his arm to him, and he let out a deafening battle cry, garnering another wave of applause, the skull-like face on the Predacon grinning devilishly. Inwardly, Swindle hoped this match would go better than that last one, the one with the Cybercat Shockwave nicknamed Primal against that dragonbot Hun-Gurr. “And the bot either brave or foolish enough to face him, the one and only, the cybernetic shadow, the ghost that can only be described as Darksteel!” He swung the other arm out towards him, the dark blue and orange Predacon pulling out a double bladed axe with Infernocus drawing a huge metallic sword soaked in energon fluid.

“Trust me, little birdy, you’re WAY out of your league here.” Infernocus slid his hand over the blade, as if to clean the blood of his victims off of it. “Why don’t you just forfeit right now and save me the trouble?”

In the crowd, a teal blue bot watched the proceedings nervously, and hoped that little private transmission to Autobot high command got through. Brutes and clones they may have been, but this wasn’t entertainment or sport, this was just senseless violence on Swindle and Shockwave’s part. Evil without purpose or reason. For now, Steeljaw reasoned, he would have to sit back, watch, and hope.

Darksteel’s only answer was to let out a small growl and bare his fangs. “You’ve had too many victims fall to your blade, and I’m going to enjoy knocking that arrogance right out of you. Hopefully by returning the favor of so many of your decapitated victims. Blot, Sinnertwin, Budora,” he replied, gesturing to the headless bodies lying around the energon soaked arena. “This isn’t sport, this is bad comedy,” he stated before clenching his fist making it crackle with electricity and pointing the heads of his axe at Infernocus.

“Maybe bad comedy for you, but this is hilarious for me,” Infernocus leaned over the bot, his optics glowing a red-hot orange. “Look at how small you are. You’re no bigger than a Turbofox to me. I could flatten you with my foot alone and you’d still be a tiny, crumpled up speck on the arena floor.”

“Oh, that's intense. You know to be honest, seeing you do that would be quite the spectacle. But it looks like I'll have to choose Option B, knock that horned tiara of yours off your head, and then slice that head clean off and then what’s next? Oh, that’s where I bust out of this arena and go gallivanting off into the sunset.” Darksteel remarked with this smug, cocky little smirk on his faceplates.

“You cannot stop your destruction, or change my mind with simple boasting,” Infernocus remarked. “So, why fight it?”

“A, because you’re an asshole, and B, you’re an asshole. Reason enough.”

“Then you’ve made a grave mistake Darksteel, and I do mean grave in every sense of the word…” Infernocus smiled all the more devilishly, and Darksteel simply shrugged.

“Oh, Predacons make grave mistakes all the time. Mine just seem to actually end up working out,” he replied dismissively, still with that cocky smirk on his face before that smirk transformed into an expression of rage remembering why he was here, and what he was here to do. “But enough of this banter, are we going to fight like men… or like beasts?”

“Very well, then. But I promise you, you are NOT going to like this, little one.” Infernocus drew his blade and pointed the tip at Darksteel.

“Looks like our combatants are about to rip each other to shreds, so I’d better not keep them waiting!” Swindle swung one arm down in a knife-hand fashion. “Fight!”

Infernocus and Darksteel charged at each other, weapons out and ready to cut deep into one another. As they got closer to each other, they saw just how big and small their foes really were, as Darksteel soon found Infernocus blotting out the very sun above his head. Which, of course, made his sword look even more menacing as it swung up, and then down towards him.

With a shifting and whirring of parts, Darksteel transformed into his beast mode, a massive hippogriff covered in Cyberglyphics and opened up his beak. Throat glowing orange, he unleashed a stream of searing hot plasma right into Infernocus’ torso plating making him stagger back.

“Gah! Looks like you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve. But not enough to save you, I’m afraid.” He slammed the sword into the ground, causing it to crack beneath Darksteel’s very claws. Channeling energon through it, the cracks became electrified, creating miniature walls of lightning around him.

Darksteel picked up his axe, which had dropped during his transformation and swung it at one of Infernocus’ legs hoping to lop it off and topple the giant. Sadly, he only earned a kick to the stomach for his troubles; one that sent him straight into the arena walls as the crowd roared in approval. Steeljaw meanwhile just winced, he hoped the Autobots got here soon.

“Looks like Darksteel’s taking a beating out there. But that’s what you get when you fight the champ, ladies and gentlemen!” Swindle announced as Infernocus closed in for the kill. “It looks like another easy win for Infernocus!”

“By my fallen brothers…” Darksteel snarled out, each and every one of the glyphs etched on his body a tribute to fallen comrades. “I will make sure nobody else dies in this arena! Not now, not ever!” he stated, before letting out a loud ear-splitting screech and charging towards Infernocus, extending his wings and dodging a swing from the Predacon’s massive sword as he flew over it. He then grabbed onto Infernocus’s right arm with his claws, and then lunged forwards and bit down on it.

The metal around Infernocus’s arm was pierced, and another bite would have severed his servos. The crowd watched with interest as Darksteel continued to thrash and drive his fangs in again for a crippling hit, while Infernocus tried to swipe him away with the back of his free hand. Eventually, he did succeed and flung Darksteel into the stands as the crowd scattered.

“Yeah, not so fun anymore is it?” Steeljaw laughed as the Decepticons fled in terror. Darksteel meanwhile, just opened up his beak once more and fired another plasma blast at Infernocus. This time directly at his face.

“For those of you in the audience who had to run, there’s absolutely no refunds or compensation for what you just went through,” said Swindle. “For everyone else, WOW! Looks like Darksteel’s getting desperate, going for the servos of the champ!”

Infernocus continued to stagger backwards as Darksteel finally gained the upper hand, with the massive titan feeling his faceplates beginning to melt.

“Oh, oh! Could this be it?” Swindle shouted in shock. “Could this be the end of an era, could this be the fall of a titan and the rise of a new champ?”

It certainly was, in some ways as Infernocus now with head comprised only of molten slag fell to the ground with a mighty thud. Swindle growled to himself, he couldn’t let this stand! His prize money maker, defeated!

“Chainclaw, Cuttthroat, get him! I will not take me losing my bets lying down! Bring me that Predacon’s head!” Swindle shouted.

The gates opened up once more, and a massive bird in tan and purple colors along with a tiger-like bot in yellow paint wearing a silver battle mask charged out, Vehicons urging them out with electroshock staffs. Darksteel readied himself for battle. But he needn’t have worried, as laser fire completely blanketed the arena as a massive orange shuttle flew in, before parts shifted as Prowl and another Autobot -Trailbreaker- leaped down into the arena with the shuttle itself turning into a truly massive Autobot bearing the sigil of the Elite Guard, with two massive cannons on his winged back, and a red battle mask covering most of his faceplates. Swindle swallowed while Steeljaw smirked. Sentinel Prime, the Autobot Supreme Commander.

“Decepticons! You are under arrest for fraud and illegal Transformer sport ringleading. Surrender peacefully, or we will have to shut you down with force.” He boomed, pointing one of his two guns at Swindle and his Vehicon soldiers, with Prowl and Trailbreaker aiming theirs as well.

“Autobot scum. You always hate money. No wonder you’re such poor, pathetic, and weak excuses for machines!” Swindle scoffed back and clicked his fingers. “Decepticons! Bring these bots down!” And without another word, all of the Cons let loose a barrage of laser fire at the intruding Autobot team who returned in kind. Sentinel shifted forms one more, becoming a massive battle train that aimed all of his cannons at the box and pummeled it with artillery shells. The two Predacons Swindle had chained up, they’d broken free just in time and had run for it as the box came down and buried both Chainclaw and Cuttthroat underneath its rubble.

Swindle swallowed, knowing perfectly well when it was time to cut his losses and run before he teleported out in a flash of blue light.

“And to think he used to be one of us…” Prowl sighed sadly, shaking his head at days long by, when Swindle and the rest of the Combaticon brigade were members of the Elite Guard as well. 

“ Where is he going?” Sentinel barked through a wrist-communicator as he transformed back into Robot mode. “I want his head!”

“Probably long gone from here, sadly,” Trailbreaker sighed as he cuffed the Vehicons. The ones still living anyways. He cast a suspicious look at Sentinel. He seemed… unusually violent for the Autobot’s current Prime. Then again, war had a way of changing a ‘Bot.

“Grr… Filthy bloodsports. I hate them. I hate them so much…” Prowl growled and punched a  wall vigorously. “Especially when Autobots are roped into them.”

“Calm yourself Prowl,” Sentinel advised placing a hand on his shoulders, casting a thankful look towards Steeljaw who could only nod. “No need to get yourself worked up over all of this. What’s done is done, Swindle won’t dare set up shop here again, and he’ll probably go into hiding. He owes far too many debts now. People will be after him, we’ll probably see his carcass turn up very shortly. For now…” he trailed off, gesturing to Darksteel. “We have to help this one, along with any others of his kind left alive.”

Prowl noticed the disgusted way Sentinel spat out ‘his kind’, like Predacons were an inferior species. Sentinel, he’d have to keep an eye on that one.

“Not that Prowl really needed to worry, as Sentinel was killed in battle defending the Stellar Galleries a week later by Deathsaurus of the DJD himself,” Steeljaw commented, now back in the present day and in the sewers under Mexico City with Flich and Thunderclash. “Good riddance to bad rubbish I say. He may have been a Prime, but he was a terrible excuse for one. Bigoted right down to his very spark, far too war-like to actually do anything about the Hell Cybertron had become. It says a lot about Sentinel, when one of his most famous quotes was: ‘In my day, the good knew their responsibility... and the weak knew their place.’ Thank the Allspark for the coming of Optimus Prime, eh?” Steeljaw laughed weakly.

“There’s something curious about you, Steeljaw. Something that’s been nagging me ever since I first met you,” Thunderclash remarked. “You’ve got beastial instincts all about you, even your name screams Predacon, and yet you have a vehicular alt-mode. It’s odd that a pure-blooded Cybertronian would find themselves spending time with a Predacon like Filch. No offense intended of course.”

Steeljaw laughed again at this. “Who said anything about pure-blooded? No, Flich and I are hardly pure-blooded in any senses of the word. Now this, this is a tale in itself. You’re probably wondering what I was doing in the stands of a gladiatorial arena, taking down Swindle and his matches.”

“Altruism?” Thunderclash guessed with a small shrug of his shoulders and Steeljaw laughed again.

“Hardly,” he said as his wolfish eyes narrowed and his little tail flicking back and forth anxiously. “No, let me tell you a tale…”

There was nothing but darkness. And the occasional flicker of sparks from machines. Jagged, razor-sharp, and menacing spikes and tools could be seen in the brief instances of light. Sitting in a single chair, bound and gagged by tight locks, sat a singular Predacon, thrashing and flailing wildly in the hopeless void. Not a single creature replied to her muffled cries for help. None, except one.

“I know that this might come as a shock to you, but don’t dwell on this thought. Rather, think about the future, and how this will benefit us both once the process is complete,” A voice echoed through the darkness. “After all, I went through this myself, and now, I feel much better off for it.”

Filch’s eyes widened in terror, she knew that voice. Every Transformer on Cybertron did. Shockwave, quite possibly one of the most feared Decepticons ever to come online. A tall purple transformer, bearing one cycloptic eye stepped out of the shadows, and Filch’s optics widened in terror. She wanted to transform into her bird mode, but the restraints would not let her.

“You know, you fascinate me,” Shockwave stepped out into the light. “For being a machine, I would have expected a more vehicle-like transformation out of you. But instead, you take the form of a winged creation; but not a sleek and rocket-fueled one like Starscream or Thundercracker; and instead a more beastial form. It amazes me, a Predacon still surviving to this very day.”

Filch just continued to thrash and fight against her restraints, in the hope that they would come loose and give her a chance to escape.

“And yet, still, you disappoint me. You could be something more. Something with potential; a beast with an ambition, a goal, a purpose, even.” Shockwave pushed his hands together. “But, luckily, that’s something we Decepticons can remedy with ease. This technique was invented, tested, and approved by Lord Megatron himself, so I have high hopes that it will turn you into an unstoppable force, just as it did for those Dynobots. Hopefully, more obedient now that I’ve refined the CNA in this little mixture.” Shockwave chuckled lowly.

“Go slag yourself.” Filch whispered, praying to Onyx Prime -the first Predacon- someone would help her.

“What was that?” He leaned in closer to Filch’s ear. “I didn’t quite catch that. Was that a sense of resistance, even when your mind is about to be subdued?”

He turned on the lights and revealed two tanks, where two Autobots rested in some sort of green fluid. One, blue and gold and bearing spikes all over his torso and the other a teal-blue with razor-sharp claws, a wolfish face and a tail hanging limp. “I’ve done this before, only in reverse. See these two? Injected with Predacon CNA. Now I’m going to see what happens when a Predacon is injected with Cybertronian CNA,” Shockwave mused, and if he had a mouth Flich imagined he’d be smiling. Regardless, he took up a syringe filled with said CNA and pointed the tip at Filch. “Just sit back, relax, and let all the bad feelings fade away. Trust me. I’m a scientist.”

Flich whimpered out in fear as the syringe injected the pure Cybernucleic Acid into her systems, and she felt new programming trying to take control. Her whimpers slowly turned into a loud scream as parts shifted and reconfigured the more beastial aspects of her chassis vanishing. Feathered wings sharpened and became more jet-like before fans revealed themselves with her body becoming less angular and streamlined, less like a regular Corvicon and more like a jet’s.

“Now then.” Shockwave took the needle out once it had done its’ job and set it down on the table. “Let’s give you a chance to break in this new directive, shall we?” 

Of course, there was a small problem with that. Take an already defiant Cybertronian, and screw around with her systems and you just made her more pissed off than normal. Breaking free of her restraints, parts shifted as she transformed into a jet, and fired two missiles at Shockwave, blasting him backwards into the walls of his lab. Hovering in place, she admitted -if only to herself- Shockwave’s new ‘upgrades’ did have their uses, she fired two more missiles and blasted a hole in the roof before transforming back to bot mode. Going over to a computer console, her fingers lit up the keyboard and freed Shockwave’s two captives. She noted their names. Steeljaw, and Gekisoumaru. Transforming again and smiling as she realized she still possessed her old alt-mode in some form she took to the night skies. Meanwhile, Shockwave staved off slipping into unconsciousness long enough to see his other two captives break open a door and run for it.

“Well then. This should be interesting…” He said to himself as he fell into the world of dreams.

“Of course, that’s not the end of the tale as you might expect,” Steeljaw continued. “No, not at all…”

It was late one rainy night when Steeljaw found her, in some long forgotten alleyway in one of Cybertron’s under cities quivering and shaking to herself. His optics widened, he recognized her from Shockwave’s laboratory. He nor his brother ever got the chance to thank her.

“You alright?” Steeljaw asked, kneeling down and reaching out a paw only for it to get swatted away.

“G-Go away…” Filch whispered. “You’re just like all the rest!”

“And all the rest would comprise…?” Steeljaw trailed off in confusion.

“That scientist. He…” Filch couldn’t even say a word as she felt the new CNA flow through her body. “I’m a freak. A Trans-Mutate, they call me.”

“Trust me, in that area at least, you’re not alone,” Steeljaw remarked, sitting down next to her. “You think I was born with these claws, or this tail? No, you saw me in that lab. Sho-” Steeljaw noted the flinch at even naming the madman and quickly corrected himself. “That scientist, he pulled me and my brother apart, ripped us open all in the name of science he said. Injected us with pure Predacon CNA, just to create the perfect soldiers for his Lord Megatron.”

“He works for Megatron. That robot.” Filch flopped her wings to the ground. “He’s evil, right? Both him and the scientist?”

“Honestly, it’s hard to tell sometimes. The scientist, yes. Evil without purpose or reason, but Megatron? I don’t know, I’ve heard tales he wanted to overthrow the corruption plaguing Cybertron and the High Council. You know the stories right, about how Nominus and Sentinel Prime were loyal to the High Council’s ideals of whatever alt-mode you got, dictated your place in life? Megatron, rose up from being a simple miner in Kaon’s pits to a politician, and when those plans fell through and his ideas were shot down he turned to war in hopes or making the people listen. Somewhere along the way, I think those ideals of his were lost. You’ve heard the news right, about that newcomer Orion Pax, I think his name is? It’s said he and Megatron were friends, both vying for the same changes.”

“Am I… evil?” Filch asked, looking at where the syringe had injected her.

“Only if you allow yourself to be. Me and my brother, we get… urges from time to time. To rip and tear, to kill. But we learned to curb them, with the Zen teachings of an Autobot and former Decepticon named Drift. You don’t have to be a monster. No, you can be something else. What that something is, that’s up to you.” Steeljaw smiled.

If Filch could cry, she would have. Instead, she just reached over and pulled Steeljaw into a hug. “Thank you. Friend. I think… I think I’d like to become a medic. Help those who can’t help themselves, a personal screw you to Shockwave. But I’ve heard rumors of Predacon clones, my sisters and brothers fighting to the death in Kaon’s arena.”

“So have I,” Steeljaw smiled. “Believe me, I have a plan to do something about it.”

“And so, there we are, I suppose. That’s what happened, how me and Flich met,” Steeljaw said. “We’ve never left each other’s sides since, even when Onslaught drafted us onto his crew.”

“Sparkmates then?” Thunderclash asked, and Steeljaw and Flich looked away from each other and Thunderclash laughed. So that’s how it was. Head over heelstrut for each other, but they couldn’t admit it. “So, what do we do now?”

“For now,” Flich stated. “You rest and heal. Then we figure out our next move…”
> Part 21: The Fortunate Ones
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cybertron: The Great War:

It was during the height of the Great War, where Hound and several others had found themselves deeply entrenched in what remained of the city of Polyhex, ravaged by decades of warfare. This battle, it’d honestly been going like this for the last several days with neither Autobot nor Decepticon keen on giving in or gaining any ground in the process. And all the while, both sides kept on expending Energon.

Hound was the de facto commander for this battle with the previous soldier in charge, an Autobot named Guzzle having been killed early on via a shot to the head early in the battle.

Road Rage, she was firing shot after shot at Decepticon snipers, keen on picking off as many as she could before they finally got her.

“You know…” she smiled sadly. “After all of this, when this is over… I think a nice keg of energon at Maccadam’s Old Oil House is in order. All of us, just kicking back and relax watching old holovids. Yeah, what do you think Backstreet?” she asked, looking towards her fallen comrade, the late Triggerbot having a hole blown right through his chest courtesy of a Combaticon shell casing. She chuckled sadly, knowing that the Autobot had always hated fighting for the sake of fighting, and to be honest would have rather have been a stellar explorer out amongst the stars, seeking out new life and new civilizations. He probably would have been, had the war not broke out and he’d been unceremoniously drafted. Grumbling to herself, Road Rage muttered: “All the dirty jobs…” before firing off another shot, scoring a headshot right through the cranium of the Seeker known as Nova Storm.

If she lived through this, and that was a very large if, she swore she’d take up Backstreet’s job and become a planetorial ambassador, just travel out there amongst the stars and meet all kinds of fascinating new species. She’d name one just after Backstreet, that’s what she’d do.

Suddenly, a very loud explosion sent Road Rage flying as her cover was blown to smithereens and parts flew everywhere as the rubble she’d been using was completely destroyed by a blast from the Combaticon known as Brawl. He’d assumed a tripod-legged stationary cannon mode, his usual hover tank alt-mode having been abandoned for the time being.

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!”

“...Oh, guess I never did want to live forever…” Road Rage sighed to herself, noting her rifle’s ammo banks had been depleted dry. From her position, she saw the armored division of Onslaught’s forces, as per orders dictated assuming similar tri-legged cannon modes.

“Well, this isn’t going to be pretty is it?” Hound laughed darkly to himself, his right arm bleeding energon fluid, a lucky shot from a Con named aptly enough Gunbarrel piercing the armored mesh plating. Thankfully, he’d repaid him in kind by shooting the tank transformer through the stomach.

Hound’s prediction proved to be spot on, as the Autobot forces were showered with mortar shots, ruins coming down all around them, with Trailbreaker only just barely able to hold back the crumbling rubble with his forcefield generator.

“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 Hound.

“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!”

“No, the Combaticons never take prisoners, they never do…” Hound mused, thinking of his fallen comrades. The dead and rusting, they were the fortunate ones here. Anyone who’d already joined the Allspark could be considered as such, in this tireless seemingly never-ending war that had cut through Cybertron like the blade of a sword and sliced it in two. The ones still left alive… Well, that was another story entirely. Sentinel Prime was gone, destroyed by Deathsaurus in one grand battle that had extinguished most’s last hopes at a peaceful resolution to this conflict, and Megatron was pushing for the offensive aiming to take Iacon. “If they wanted to offer us that luxury, they would have long ago.”

“D-Don’t s-suppose you can pull one of your hologram tricks out of that gearbox of yours, could you?” Road Rage coughed out with energon dripping from her mouth, and Hound shook his head.

“No, the Decepticons would get wise fairly quickly if some giant warrior just showed up out of the blue. They know of what I can do. If we were dealing with a more fearful and foolish lot, it might work, but Onslaught and his brigade? They are neither fearful nor foolish.”

“Then what?” Trailbreaker asked, looking towards a very distinctive white flag laying next to the body of Backstreet.

“The flag, use it.”

“Of course,” Trailbreaker nodded. “I’ll just set this up at the front of the battlements and-”

“No, you will use it to bandage my wound, soldier!” Hound barked out, cutting him off. “We never give in, one quick decisive strike right through the heart of Onslaught’s forces, they’d never expect it. It’d throw them into chaos!” 

“That’s crazy, suicidal even!” Trailbreaker shouted.

“Yes, maybe, but right now… I’d say we’re all out of options. Nobody cares for us, we’re just cogs in a machine. We just have to fend for ourselves, and right now I’d say a little bit of crazy is in order. Now, as Sentinel Prime used to say… Autobots, Transform and Roll Out!”

A roar of triumph went up amongst the remaining forces as they followed Hound’s lead, their fighting spirit restored. Small victories Road Rage mused to herself, small victories.







Earth, Now:

“Yeah, never did want to live forever eh…?” Road Rage thought to herself. “We, or what was left of our platoon survived that, and now here on Earth just chasing after war criminals Hound got picked off by a lone sniper.” she thought, sighing and shaking her head at the irony.

“So… he’s really gone?” Indigo’s lips quivered as she stood over the body of Hound, tears beginning to form in them. “No… NO! I WON’T LET HIM DIE!” She pounded the edge of the table with her fists, blubbering and moaning. “He’s the reason me and Lemon are still besties!”

“Indy…” Lemon looked at the wreck Indigo Zap had become, then stared up at the lifeless husk of Hound. “Please, Hound… don’t die on us yet. We still need you for the fight against those bastard Cons.”

Just watching Hound, laying on that table pipes and tubing being his only source of life, and a small machine hooked up to him beeping out slowly, it made Trixie’s stomach churn, and the showmare retched. Standing in the background, watching with wide eyes was Juniper. Sure, she’d seen Cybertronians die, hell she watched Sky-Byte rip Snaptrap in half! But seeing this, someone who was supposed to be a friend of hers just laying on a table like that...

“Who did this… Who?” Indigo growled out. “WHO THE FUCK KILLED HIM?!”

Sugarcoat tried to contain her emotions, her voice as hard as steel. “It had to have been one very accurate sniper, see that hole? Only someone with immense training, and a steady hand would have been able to make such a shot.”

“How does a sniper leave THAT BIG A HOLE?!” Indigo screamed, turning into a banshee with how high her pitch was. “And what right do you have treating Hound like he was just wires and metal, like he never was alive, to begin with!?!” she shouted, her voice turning into choking sobs about halfway through, before she drew back her fist and tried to punch Sugarcoat only to stumble and fall to the floor.

“You think I’m not as broken up about this as you are?” Sugarcoat asked, taking off her glasses and fighting back tears. “But I’m trying to keep myself contained here. Hound, he wouldn’t have wanted to see us like this, fighting and arguing like a bunch of children over who killed him and how!”

“Y’know what, Hound is the only thing that helped me get closer to Lemon Zest. Now that he’s gone, she’s gonna totally hate me for letting him down! Do you know how cranky Lemon gets when people let her down like that?! DO YOU?!” Indigo barked, stomping right into Sugarcoat’s face, causing her brows to skyrocket.

“Indy… I don’t hate you for this.” Lemon walked over and laid her hand on Indigo’s shoulder. “If anything, you’re right about me getting angry. But I’m more pissed about those Cons than anything else. The next time I see them, I’m going to rip their Energon out with my bare hands, stomp it into the ground, and make them all watch! Who did this? Just… I just want to know who.”

“Flamewar,” Road Rage stated solemnly, slowly walking forwards to Lemon, and kneeling down to her level. “Her name was Flamewar. She was the same one who infected me and Prowl with that virus, and now she’s added another to her kill count. Prowl and Knock Out, they were working out an exchange for the cure. Hound was projecting a hologram of Knock Out, keeping the real one out of harm’s way, and had masked his and Knock Out’s sparks. But somehow, don’t ask me how, Flamewar got wise to our trick and shot Hound with her bow and arrows.”

“Road Rage. Get me my Targetmaster armor. I know what needs to be done,” Lemon lowered her head and shielded her eyes with her hair. “I’m going to bury Flamewar myself; no Autobots needed.”

“And how in Primus’s name do you expect to do that, huh?” Road Rage asked. “First off, you don’t even know where Flamewar is, she’s long gone! And you’d only turn into a gun, you’d need someone to wield you even if you did find her!” Road Rage shouted.

“Shadowbolts learn fast. And I’m pretty sure my Targetmaster accuracy is off the charts right about now. Add to the fact that I’m a pro speed skater, and I can outrun and outgun any Con you put in my way.” She didn’t even look up to speak.

“Listen to me, Lemon,” Road Rage stated. “Revenge, it’s not the answer. You think I don’t want Flamewar’s head myself? Killing her would feel good, but it wouldn’t bring Hound back all the same!”

“So, what are our options then?” Juniper asked. “Is… is there a way to bring Hound back, or do we just…” she trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

“Just one,” Prowl stated. “But it would require Hound to be completely reformatted, and if we do that… He may not emerge the same as any of us ever knew him. His body would be rebuilt yes, but his personality would probably completely change.”

“But… But there’s got to be a way here!” Juniper protested.

“Well… there is a way, but I don’t think any of you will like it.” Twilight pulled her head up from her notes. “Have you ever heard of the Frankenstein effect?”

Sugarcoat’s head whipped around to face Twilight so fast, everybody swore it probably would have probably fallen off. “Twilight. No, just no.”

“And what’s your answer, Saltcoat? Just let him die?” Twilight sharply retorted. “Look. I know it’s bad, but if you really want Hound back, I’m sure we can make an exception.”

“Look, I’m not putting anyone’s brains in an already damaged body, just to bring Hound back! This isn’t science Twilight,” Sugarcoat replied. “This is madness!”

“Unleash the Magic? That wasn’t madness?” Twilight asked, poking at the Friendship Games in their past. “Tell me, Sugarcoat. To you, and to the rest of CPA, what is madness if it delivers positive results?”

Sugarcoat’s jaw dropped, looking as if she’d been slapped. Twilight quickly realized she may have gone too far, remembering that this was a point of shame for the Shadowbolts and something they agreed was not their finest moment for them or CPA.

“Okay, maybe that’s not the best metaphor to use, but there’s no such thing as madness. Only insanity.” Twilight sighed and brushed her hand across the table. “Madness is just something we say is bad, but in reality, it’s because we’re scared to try.”

“No, it’s called madness because that’s exactly what it is!” Sugarcoat shouted back. “This… All of this you’re proposing, I’m sorry, but I can’t endorse it.”

“Then don’t. You’re more than welcome to vote against it.” Twilight turned to the rest of the Shadowbolts, Trixie, and Juniper. “Lemon Zest, Sunny Flare, Sour Sweet, Indigo Zap, Trixie, Juniper. Your thoughts?”

Nobody had to say a word, they were completely against whatever Twilight was proposing. She could read it on their faces.

“Twilight…” Trixie started. “I love you, honestly I do, but this… I can’t allow you to do this. Hound wouldn’t want you conducting this, in the faintest hope you can bring him back.”

“I understand. I’ll tell Perceptor to prepare for the funeral,” Twilight walked away from the deathbed, taking one last look at Hound. She looked into his optics one last time and kissed his forehead before looking at Prowl, who only nodded sadly and began switching the machines off one by one and pulling the pipes out of Hound’s chassis.

“Goodbye, my old friend.” he stated.







“You ever seen the stars look so beautiful tonight?” Trixie asked her girlfriend, laying on a picnic blanket atop a hillside, Maine’s forests and mountain ranges in front of them, with Canterlot City just a small little selection of lights nestled in the wilderness. In the background, Hound lay resting in his vehicle mode in a short recharge cycle. Not like he needed to intrude upon this moment anyways.

“No, I haven’t,” Trixie replied, though in her mind it wasn’t just the stars that looked beautiful. “Then again, city lights kinda prevent you from seeing all of… Well, all of this.” she continued, gesturing upwards. “Hound, you ever gone star watching?”

“No. I can’t say I have,” Hound stared skyward, watching as the stars lit up the otherwise black veil above them. “Is this normal behavior for you humans?”

“Well… It is in this part of the planet,” Twilight smiled as she tried drawing the stars together using nothing more than her fingers. “I think the Ursas might be out tonight, don’t you Trix?” she asked, and Trixie nodded, gesturing to a specific part of the skies. 

“You mean the Ursa Major, and Ursa Minor constellations right?” Hound asked.

“Yes, exactly,” Twilight replied. “See you’ve been studying up on Earth constellations.”

“Well, they’re not just Earth constellations,’ Hound replied. “On Cybertron, we can see them as well. They just go by different names, that’s all. But like your girlfriend, in the big city lights, you can’t see them as well as you can out here. That’s the reason I volunteered to do this, just to get a look at them myself.”

“So, what do you think?” Twilight asked, lifting a brow to him.

“They’re beautiful, I had friends in the Cybertronian Stellar Galleries who told me about all of this… But I never got the chance to observe them for myself really.” Hound admitted, with a tinge of sadness in his tone. “Why do you think I jumped at the chance to follow Onslaught’s crew to Earth? I wanted to explore new cultures, and see new topographies, and see the stars with my own optics.”

“Think you’ll ever have something like it ever again?” Twilight asked, holding her hands together.

“On this planet, you mean?” Hound inquired.

“Just in general. Will you ever have something this beautiful like these stars?” Twilight put a hand on his hood.

“Yeah, I already do. Seeing Cybertron as it is now, restored to it’s golden age of peace and prosperity little by little. That’s all I could have asked for, to see that in my lifetime,” he said softly. “And I won’t let Onslaught nor any of the other members of his crew destroy that which we’ve worked so hard to rebuild.”

“And I promise you Hound,” Twilight replied. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you and your team stop Onslaught. Pinkie Promise. Cross my Heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

Although caught off guard by the strange saying and the movements, Hound understood the sentiments.

“T-Thank you…” he murmured.

Back in the present, Twilight watched, along with her friends and the Autobots’ government allies as Hound was loaded up into a rocket constructed by Perceptor that would launch Hound into the sun, as a makeshift funeral pyre. The main body of the rocket had this clear bubble constructed into it, so everyone could see Hound. His body had been restored to it’s original glory, and it seemed just for a moment he was simply sleeping. But everyone knew better.

Soldiers stood at attention, rifles at the ready.

“Ready! Aim, and fire!” Spitfire barked out, and 21 shots pierced the night as both she and Fowler saluted. The rocket engines fired up, and the funeral barge was sent flying upwards into space on a direct course towards the sun.

Twilight watched for a minute, before she could no longer hold back the flood of tears that were threatening to break. Tossing her glasses aside, she ran off sobbing with Trixie trying to reach out and grab her to pull her into a comforting hug, but to no avail.

“Let her go,” Chrysalis told her softly. “We all grieve in our own ways. Give her time, and then hold her, and don’t let her go you understand Trixie Lulamoon? She’ll need you now, more than ever.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I understand.” Trixie sniffled as she watched the rocket join the stars that Hound had so loved...
> Part 22: Old Friends
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Somewhere outside El Paso Texas…

A barren road with nothing but dust, sand, and shrubbery on either side of the highway, just a few miles north of the border was filled with the sounds of two revving engines. One, a V8 right out of Detroit and the other this 15-2 liter diesel engine just over 500 horsepower weighing tens of thousands of kilograms. And that was without the fuel he was carrying onboard in his tanks.

Road Rage VS Octane, that was the current situation. 30 minutes prior, the latter of which had raided an oil refinery and was now on the run from his Autobot pursuer hot on his heels.

“Come on, come on!” Octane bellowed. “What’s stopping you from taking me out, where’s that fury I heard so much about?” he taunted Road Rage, who was somehow managing to trail behind the massive truck. “Road Rage, the demon of the roads! I never thought I’d take you for a coward!”

His twin smoke stacks flipped back and riddled the road with laser fire, the Autobot swerving right and left to avoid the shots, tires squealing out in protest and smoke and gravel being kicked up as Road Rage drifted alongside the massive Decepticon and slammed into him.

“That enough for you?” Road Rage taunted, and Octane unleashed a bellowing laugh in response.

“Ah, there’s that fire I remember, and have heard so much about!” he smirked. “Little Red Corvette tearing up the streets, and here I thought this chase, this game of cybercat and mouse of ours was going to be rather boring! Oh look, oncoming traffic!” he shouted, gesturing to two Vehicon drones in Cien mode coming right at them, twin laser cannons popping up from their hoods. He floored it, and sped down the highway to let the two Vehicons pass him and head right for Road Rage, both intent on slagging her either via ramming her or shooting her full of holes. Neither option was particularly preferable to her at the moment.

Two massive laser cannons flipping out from underneath her chassis, she blasted one Vehicon and sent it tumbling end over end before it exploded behind her before she got alongside the second and slammed a spike from her wheel into the Vehicon’s like the ones found on old Roman chariots. This Vehicon suffered the same fate as his fellow. Sadly, this little entanglement had provided Octane valuable time and now he was further ahead of Road Rage than he had been before.

“For such a heavy guy, ‘Con sure knows how to floor it when he needs to…” Road Rage thought to herself, and revved her own engine to close the gap and make up for lost time. She knew at any moment Octane was liable to either switch to his cargo plane mode or just bridge out. He was toying with her, and she knew it all too well. That was his style, lead the Autobots in pursuit of him on a little chase, wear them out -possibly destroy them- before getting the Hell out of Dodge as the humans liked to say. It was all one big game to him.

Changing lanes, Road Rage kicked up more dirt and dust as she drove up alongside Octane once more, engine revving loud and fast. 

“So, still got a little bit of spark left in ya!” Octane laughed.

“Little bit’s all I need to take you down…” Road Rage growled, tailpipes emitting small bursts of flame

The vastness of the open road gave both of them a number of ways to escape and chase after each other. There weren’t any other cons, or anyone else for that matter so it wasn’t like they’d run into anyone and cause unneeded casualties. With the blazing sun streaking down on both of their paintjobs, the both of them were thankful that they couldn’t sweat or tire out like humans do, because in this harsh climate, they wouldn’t have lasted a chance like that.

Both of them traded blaster shots with each other while endlessly running along the road, not a single building or patch of grass or water passed them by. Nothing but endless desert. They had no idea where they were going or where they had come from, as soon enough, even the signs pointing them in the right directions were non-existent.

“Lost in America, you’re Lost in America…” Octane hummed to himself. “Exactly where you are. Me, not so much. I could just bridge out any time I wanted, or take to the skies but this is so much more fun…”

“Do you ever shut up!?!” Road Rage snarled.

“Ooh, touchy…” Octane remarked. “I can see where the name comes from…”

Groaning, Road Rage shot the tires, causing him to swerve slightly before regaining control.

“Feisty, ain’t ya? But feistiness is NOTHING compared to the Decepticons.” Octane’s smokestacks tilted downwards once more as he fired his weapons at Road Rage, blowing out the road in front of her and leaving giant holes in it. Road Rage just used some of the rubble as a makeshift ramp and flew over the holes.

“Oh, seems to me you’re a bit angrier than normal,” Octane remarked. “Just that bit more determined. Any reason for that?” he taunted. “I did hear over the wire you recently lost a friend…”

“Sh-shut up!” Road Rage’s voice cracked, knowing exactly who Octane was talking about.

“Sounds like I struck a nerve. Now for the rest of your body!” Letting another salvo of shots ring out, he landed some blows on Road Rage’s trunk, scorching the paint job in seconds. “If it makes you feel better, you’ll be reuniting with that friend soon enough…”

“Oh no, ya don’t! Trust me, there’s much worse comin’ your way, mate.” a voice sounded across the desert.

Rushing to Road Rage’s side from across the desert flats was another Autobot, having taken the form of a sandy colored Toyota Land Cruiser from the early eighties speaking with what sounded like a Nebulan accent, or Australian to Earthfolk.

“Huh, looks like little old Smallfoot was right, there are other Cybertronians on this rock,” the newcomer remarked as the roof of his vehicle mode sprouted a cannon. “Just wish Decepticons weren’t part of that.”

“How dare you side with an Autobot! For that, you’ll be joining her in the grave!” Octane let another series of missiles fly out and hammer down on the road like mortar shots.

“Whoa! Careful. Nearly singed my hood there!” the Autobot remarked as he swerved right and left to avoid the blasts, with Road Rage eying his cannon warily.

“Careful, Octane over there? He’s carrying Solus Prime knows how much fuel onboard, the last thing we want is for it to go off,” she warned.

“Sounds like he’d make quite a light show,” the Autobot chuckled. “Normally, I’m not a fan of violence of any sort and would much rather go on a explore, but trust me, seeing Cons blowing up bring a tear to my eyes.”

“Noted,” Road Rage replied. “Trust me, same here. Never did catch your name, now that I think of it.”

“Name’s Outback. Autobot, if ya couldn’t tell by the logo on me. And I’ve heard you were in trouble, miss,” he said. “Heard that Hound was finally thrown onto the barbie and left to cook. Shame, really. He was a really good guy, had some good conversations with him back on Cybertron. And believe me, if you think I’m going to let his death go unavenged than you’ve got another think comin’!” Outback growled.

Octane growled to himself, he hadn’t exactly been expecting two Autobots to deal with today, just Road Rage and that would be the end of it. By the Pit, he didn’t even know Outback was on this blasted dustball. He needed to deal with the situation now, before it spiraled even more out of control for him. He weighed over the options in his head, fight these two and expend more Energon and risk his fuel being blown up, or escape with it. It didn’t take him long to reach any sort of decision really, and parts began to shift and move as he turned into a massive C-130 Cargo Plane and took to the skies.

“Smell ya later, Autobrats!” Octane cackled as he radioed for a Groundbridge, with one of the green swirling vortexes opening in front of him, the Decepticon soon vanishing through it.

“Running away so soon, ya cobber? Get back here and fight us like a Con!” Octane howled as he watched Octane’s vortex disappear before them.

Road Rage sighed, and transformed into bot mode, with Outback soon following suite. “Yeah, that’s about par for the course for us with him really. Third time this month alone he’s stolen a huge amount of fuel and bridged out before anybody could catch him.,” she grumbled before taking a look at the heavily battered highway. “...Oh, Fowler’s going to have a Hell of a job explaining away this one…”

“Who’s Fowler?” Outback questioned. “Don’t remember a Bot by that name.”

“I’m going to have to fill you in, and you are going to have to do the same, given I and Prowl for that matter would really love to know where you came from. Road Rage to base, requesting pick-up for two.”

“I’m sorry, two?” Perceptor’s voice stuttered out in shock. “What about Octane, did you catch him?”

“No, he got away, but I just met up with an old friend…” Road Rage smiled…







Meanwhile, in up in the hills and sweeping mountain passes of Colorado we find the hills alive with the sound of a revving engine, a stark blue Harley Davidson motorbike flying through a tunnel, a holographic longhaired human with a beard sitting on it.

Taking a sharp turn down a mountain pass as two deep purple Cadillac Ciens followed after him, tires squealing as they threw their back ends into the turn just barely brushing the guardrail sparks flying. Any miscalculations and over the side they would have went, to a very long drop down towards a raging torrent of river rapids below.

“Awww man, these guys are gonna harsh my mellow. I was just getting my groove on too, I mean I know my thing, just drive about on patrol and make sure nobody unfriendly gets to the base like so and yet these guys show up with all their fancy cars and paint jobs and try and kill me so it's like what's the problem, man? Well, nobody's gonna rain on my parade and I’m going to make sure of it, as this cat’s got claws see?” the motorbike ranted to himself, before gunning his engine and popping a wheelie. “I mean, by the Allspark what’s wrong with taking a peaceful midday drive down the scenic route, just leave a guy to himself with only the road ahead?”

Predictably, the Vehicons grew tired of his ranting and out popped cannons from their hoods.

“Oh, fancy yourselves real tough guys eh?” the unknown Cybertronian remarked and if he could, he’d be rolling his eyes right about now. Decepticons, they were always about the big guns. Had to be compensating for something, like possibly their lack of combat prowess in general. “Well, how do you like this one?”

His tailpipe flipped out, and blasted flames at the Vehicons leaving them with scorched hoods, with the bike laughing to himself. “Not so snazzy now are you? I mean, by Pyra Magna’s spark you guys are ridiculously shiny, could mess up a guy’s vision if the sun glinted off you in the right way! I mean, I could crash and burn! So not good for my image, brah.”

The tailpipe flipping back and resuming its proper position, the Cybertronian smirked as he continued his trek down the mountain roads, the Vehicons still in hot pursuit. 

“Man, what is it with you guys? Can’t you just leave a simple bot in peace? Man, you guys really need to chill out. Take some Zen classes or something. I heard Drift, my man, he has audio recordings by the truckload that could really help you guys. I mean, haven’t you heard? War’s still on Cybertron, not here! Not even Hellbat or Guyhawk were as persistent as you two morons!”

As much as Night Ranger loved joking around and screwing with these two Vehicons to throw them off their game, he knew the time for messing about was over. These two could not learn the location of the Van De Graaff, not by a longshot.

“Oh, where’s Smallfoot or Outback when I need ‘em? I’m just a simple biker, a scout and they get the big tough Toyota off-road vehicle modes!” he thought to himself. “But, right now, it’s up to me! Lovely day, lovely day…” he added sarcastically. “But, as an Autobot, it’s my job to protect the people of this world. I can only pity them if they ever had to get caught up in this constant war of ours.”

Taking another corner, hearing the Vehicons’ tires screaming now as he rounded it, and the screams only got louder as he rounded several hairpin corners. Finally, it happened, and the tires exploded with rubber flying with some of it even hitting him.

“Ah, thought so. I know these roads, know how to take them with style and grace, while you just take the frailing about madly route from Tokyo drifters. No, strike that, that’d be an insult to Japanese drift kings. You’re nowhere near their level. I should know, I raced a few,” Night Ranger snarked as he screeched to a halt, his kickstand dropping to the pavement and engine idling. “So, you want to continue to play around, or should we just end this little game of ours here?”

Take a guess what the Vehicons chose. With a shifting and whirring of parts, they changed to their bot modes.

“...Yeah, I about figured as much.” Night Ranger muttered, and transformed to robot mode with his tailpipe becoming his rifle and before the two Vehicons could even fire off a shot they tumbled over the edge and down into the raging torrents below. Night Ranger smirked, and spun his rifle in his hands like an Old West gunslinger before blowing smoke off of its tip. “Yep, still got it.” he smirked. A loud crash was heard, and a certain Autobot winced at the sound. That had to hurt. But no time to dwell on that, he still had his patrol to finish, Nexus Prime only knew what else lurked up in these hills. Vehicons were like Scraplets in a sense, there was never more than one.

Tapping into his comms, he radioed back to the ship. “Hey Hoist, how goes the repairs? Any systems aside from the groundbridge up and running yet? Cause I just ran into two Vehicons, I’d really love it if we had autocannons up and running soon brah.”

“First off, don’t rush me, and secondly don’t call me by that name, you know how much I hate it,” a British accent filtered through the comms, along with the sound of repair equipment hard at work, patching, and welding. “Me and Hubcap, we’re working as fast as we can, but without the proper tools, it’s slow going. Look, I have to take this careful. I’m a medic, not a repair technician like Scoop was. Primus, I don’t know what I might set off if I’m not too careful here. Could accidentally start up the ship’s Auto-Destruct sequencing, old and confusing as this damn thing is. It’s not like the ships of today, this thing was practically ready for the scrap heap when we used it to escape Cybertron, hopefully, find a newer more peaceful world.”

Night Ranger bit back a bitter laugh. “Yeah, look how that turned out. Decepticons, here!”

“Look on the bright side, Smallfoot reported in that she saw Commanders Prowl, Hound and Road Rage along with that motormouth Swerve, so that means there’s Autobots here as well right?” Hoist replied.

“Yeah, true. But that means that they brought the war here as well, which means the humans of this world, wondrous creatures -Seriously, you ever heard any of their music? Steppenwolf rocks!- that they are likely going to be caught up in it sooner or later. I really don’t fancy that idea, do you?”

“Not in the slightest,” Hoist admitted. “Hopefully, Smallfoot or someone else can hook up with Sentinel or whoever the current Prime is and help send these ‘Cons running.”

“One can hope. One can only hope…” Night Ranger trailed off.

Meanwhile, back inside the Van De Graaff, the Autobots known as Hoist and Hubcap were hard at work getting crucial systems up and running. A few cycles before Sentinel Prime’s final stand at the Stellar Galleries against Lord Deathsaurus and the Breastforce Armada, the Van De Graaff’s crew had fled Cybertron in hopes of finding more peaceful pastures, ones that weren’t ravaged by the fires of war. It was a wonder how they’d escaped in the battered old exploration ship, possibly managing to avoid the sensors of the larger Decepticon aligned ships in the chaos but in any case, the Van De Graaff had managed to stumble across a wormhole and initiate a slipspace jump. Sadly, this jump had taken its toll on the ship’s already battered engines and a good portion of the ship’s jump drive had exploded, knocking several members into stasis lock including the ship’s captain Pyra Magna and offlining a few more. With only a skeleton crew led by Hoist to guide the ship into a gentle landing, they’d landed on Earth in the mountains of Colorado before the last of the crew slipped into stasis for the next few centuries or so only awakening recently.

Hoist, he was a gentle sort of bot turning into a tow truck aptly enough considering his position. If Perceptor or Rachet were the Autobot’s chief surgeons and scientists than Hoist would be a family doctor. Everyone reported to him for their routine check-ups and the like, with Hoist always ready to greet them with a friendly demeanor and a jovial smile.

Hubcap, now he like Hoist spoke with what sounded to humankind with a cultured British accent and was fairly friendly, always with a clever joke and was always this affable bot to be around transforming into this old 30s coupe, not unlike the one you’d find on the cover of ZZ Top’s album Eliminator. No small wonder he and Hoist struck up a friendship. His greatest talent, however, was his audio receptors, and back on Cybertron, he was head of the Autobot Communications Hub.

“Primus damnit, there go the lights…” Hubcap muttered. “Going to have to fix that… again. I really should check the maintenance ducts, just in case we’ve got an infestation of scraplets on our hands.”

“Please, don’t make me think about that,” Hoist said as he used a small tool to weld some wires back together. “I’m already nervous enough as it is, being tasked with repairing as many systems as I can on this ship without having to worry about Scraplet infestations.”

“Just saying, on a ship this old you don’t know what lurks in the dark…” Hubcap replied. “Can never be too careful,”

“Yes, yes, I know that. But if there were a Scraplet infestation, we’d probably already know by now. Primus, we’d all be dead actually. They’d have taken no time in devouring us all while we were offline or in stasis, you know that.”

“Right… Right,” Hubcap reminded himself and shook his head. “Silly me. The mind tends to wander though, when you’ve got very little to do and you’re just couped up in one place for too long. Cabin fever, I believe the humans call it right?”

“Just keep your mind on your work, and just that. Doctor’s orders,” Hoist recommended. “Should keep your mind from thinking up ideas that’ll send shudders down all our sparks. Tell you what, I’ll ask Night Ranger if he can switch duties with you when he returns, get you out on your wheels again, that’ll cure you of your cabin fever right quick I think,”

“Thanks,” Hubcap replied. “Now, hand me that power inducer, I’m going to see if I can stir some life into the shields okay?”

Hoist tossed him the item in question and sighed. Bad luck, and poor judgement, that’s what it came down to when they chose this particular ship. Once, the Van De Graaff had been a mighty fine ship in her own right, before the dawn of Megatron but that was millions and millions of years ago. Now, it was just scrap. Glorious scrap sure, but still scrap. For a brief moment, Hoist let his mind wander. He liked to believe, and he admitted this was a simple romantic fantasy, that every ship had it’s stories to tell. Stories of glorious adventures, daring escapes, fantastic rescues, and dashing crews. He wondered what this ship might have experienced in it’s lifetime, where did it go, what did it’s crews see? The Klud of Pequod, the Rock Lords of Quartex, or maybe even the dreaded Chaos of the planet Dread? 

He shook himself away from those thoughts, he had more important things to worry about right now. His optics drifted towards the Bridge of the ship, where their Captain and commander Pyra Magna of the Cybertronian aligned planet Caminus rested, still in stasis lock. She was in need of an energon transplant, and with their own supplies at the moment so low nobody could provide such a thing. Hopefully, if Outback or Smallfoot made contact with Prowl’s group or found a supply of raw Energon than that problem could be remedied but for now all he could do was keep her stable.

“All I can do,” Hoist thought to himself. “Yeah, that about sums up my role on this ship so far…”







Meanwhile, miles and miles away off the coast of India lay the island of Sri Lanka. Probably the last place you’d expect any Cybertronian to ever step foot on, but yet here Steeljaw and Filch were, in its jungles and caught in the middle of an afternoon rainstorm.

“You do take me to the most wonderful of places, don’t you,” Filch drawled. “First Mexico City to meet a massive Predacon with anger management issues, and now here in search of a creature called the Devil Bird by the locals.”

“Well, if Thunder Clash says one of his oldest friends is here, someone we can trust, then I have no reason to doubt him,” Steeljaw replied. “Besides, think of it as an adventure, like Indiana Jones or Lara Croft. Don’t think I haven’t caught you watching those human films in your spare time.”

If Filch could have blushed, she would have. “So, remind me, what’s the so-called cryptid we’re searching for here?” she asked.

“Ah yes, the Devil Bird of Sri Lanka. Supposedly, and I do wonder where these humans think up these legends, there was once this jealous husband who doubted the legitimacy of his child. So, in a fit of anger, he killed both wife and child and now the wife roams the skies of the island with her cries of anguish being death omens,”

“Like I said, you take me to the most wonderful places,” Filch deadpanned. “Sounds like a load of absolute crap to me.”

“It is,” Steeljaw agreed. “Most humans these days, at least ones not caught up in superstition believe that the real-life Devil Bird is this Eagle Owl, and because they live in the deep jungles and have widespread habitats all over the island they’re a very rare sight these days. However, all legends had to start somewhere right? And I don’t mean from some Earth bird…”

“Thunder Clash believes the Devil Bird is this old friend of his right? Airazor, he calls her?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” Steeljaw replied. “With a bit of luck, we may just find her. No, not luck. I’ve just broadcasted our spark signature and any Predacon on this island should come to us if only out of curiosity.”

“Or to defend their turf,” Filch reminded. “Predacons, not the friendly sort. You just got lucky with me.”

“Yes, quite.” Steeljaw said as he turned back to look at Filch smiled at her, and for whatever reason, the Corvicon felt her face grow hot. “Now, come. Time’s not on our side, and I don’t want to be caught out here after dark. Not just Predacons we have to worry about after all…”

If Steeljaw had been looking closely, he might have seen a cat-like figure dart between the bushes and off into the darkness...
> Part 23: The Devils in the Darkness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

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...
> Part 24: The Van De Graaff
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Greece: The Island of Rhodes

If it were any other time on the Island of Rhodes, Fowler or Spitfire would have every right to be very concerned about hostile aliens being revealed to the public at large. Thankfully, it wasn’t a time to be concerned, as for one thing it was under cover of night the Decepticons laid siege to the island in search of a rumored Predacon, and secondly, currently there was a particularly nasty storm front coming through.

The ancient Acropolis, that was the battlefield as weapons fired under the howling, slashing winds and rolling thunder.

It was supposed to be a simple snatch and grab for the Decepticons involved, that’s all it was supposed to be. But as ever, things were often easier said than done. The rumors coming out of Greece told of Orthrus, a giant two-headed dog -Brother of the much more famous Cerberus- supposedly slain by Heracles. Evidently, that wasn’t entirely the case as shown by the poor Vehicon currently being cooked to a crisp and reduced to molten metal and slag by the Predacon’s plasma breath attacks. Nor was Orthrus a two-headed dog, as eyewitness reports and legends stated. No, he was actually a two-headed, twin-tailed dragon calling himself Sinnertwin.

Now, the legends around Orthrus stated he was a guardian of the cattle of some guy called Geryon. Personally, right now Breakdown doubted those myths even as he watched the aptly named Sinnertwin’s heads rip one poor Vehicon clean in half Energon flying everywhere. He suspected Sinnertwin would have more likely eaten the cattle.

“Rip Autobots! Rrr, rip and tear!” Sinnertwin snarled as he tossed the two pieces aside, before firing more blasts of plasma at the Decepticons. This led Breakdown to one of two conclusions. A, Sinnertwin wasn’t intelligent enough to differate between sides or B, he just didn’t give a damn. Breakdown honestly wasn’t sure which yet.

Swapping one of his hands out for a massive sledgehammer, he charged towards the monstrous Predacon. “Karma's a bitch, now think twice before attacking an innocent. You're nothing more to me then garbage and hey.... It’s garbage day! Time for you to have a little… Ahem, Breakdown!”

He slammed the hammer into the side of one of Sinnertwin’s heads and sparks flew as the Predacon staggered to the side, before one of the two heads lunged and grabbed Breakdown by the arm before raising him up high and then slamming him back down into the ground with a mighty earthshaking thud.

As Breakdown picked himself up off the ground metal groaning out in pain, Brawl pointed at the Predacon. “Concentrate your fire, take him out! I don’t care what the boss says, this mission’s a bust!”

For the record, the original plan was to capture Sinnertwin, throw an electro-shock collar around his neck like with Darksteel to ensure his loyalty but it seems Sinnertwin had severe objections to this idea.

With a shifting and whirring of parts, Brawl shifted to his tank form before firing off several rounds almost as loud as the thunder of the storm itself. “Heh, I’ve fought bigger monsters than you, you two-headed lizard! Eradicons, suppressing fire! Drive him back and box him in!”

Brawl may not have looked or sounded like it, but he was far more than just some brute with heavy metal muscle and powerful armament. He was Onslaught’s second in command for a reason. He knew how to work a battlefield.

Laser fire from the Eradicons drove Sinnertwin back, just in time for a tank shell fired from Brawl to hit and knock Sinnertwin back into some age-old mural, stone flying everywhere. Groaning, the Predacon picked himself up off the ground only to get slammed back into it by another hit from Breakdown’s hammer. He didn’t move, and Breakdown sighed in relief.

“Thought that’d never end, I’ll have to commend Brawl for his tactics. Shame, or perhaps not, about us not being able to bring this one in.” he thought to himself. He reached his hand out towards Sinnertwin to feel for a spark pulse and performed a little gesture in the air creating the Cybertronian Glyph for Light Follower.

“And stay down, you piece of slag!” Brawl shouted, only to be caught off guard when Sinnertwin’s crimson red eyes shot wide open -Evidently he was faking death- and his two heads lunged and grabbed Breakdown by the legs.

He then held him upside down right in front of the Decepticons’ guns, using him as a meat shield of sorts. He was using one head to hold him, and the other to speak.

“So, whatcha gonna do now, slaggers?” Sinnertwin asked, his unnaturally sharp fangs that no creature should have ever had now gleaming in the moonlight that was just barely peeking through the clouds. “You gonna shoot one of your own teammates? I know how much your kind value loyalty…”

Brawl hesitated, although he wouldn’t like to admit it at the time but he hesitated to fire. He may have had a lot of flaws his brutality chiefest amongst them but some of his old Autobot programmings still persisted. And that included loyalty to his teammates, no matter how much he may or may not have disliked them.

If it were any other situation, like say if it were a Vehicon being held up as a meat shield he would have pulled the trigger and pumped Sinnertwin with megawatts of electricity from his rifle, but in this case…

“I… I…” Brawl started.

“Just shoot him, you pit-be-damned fool!” Breakdown shouted. Brawl fingered the trigger, but still he couldn’t bring himself to fire off a shot. 

“Slaggit…” Brawl thought to himself, as he began to lower his rifle. No charged particle shots would be fired. At least... not yet.

Seeing Brawl’s hesitance, Sinnertwin gave out a vicious smirk. “Just as I thought. Here, catch!” he shouted, before tossing Breakdown into Brawl’s forces sending the Eradicons flying and Breakdown himself into the ruins of an old temple dedicated to the sun god Apollo.

Parts shifting and whirring to the classic sounds of Tsche-chu-chu-chu-tsche! Sinnertwin transformed to Robot mode, necks folding back with the entire rear section of his body becoming the legs, and his front legs becoming arms.

With a loud roar, he shoulder-charged Brawl like this American football player before Brawl simply side-stepped out of the way and fired his rifle sending what he thought would be enough pure electricity to take down Sinnertwin for good. But evidently not, given Sinnertwin seemed to be only even more pissed off than ever. Sinnertwin pulled out a rifle of his own and fired shot after shot at Brawl destroying the ancient ruins around them, bricks flying everywhere.

“Suppressing fire, take him down!” Brawl bellowed at his troops though inwardly he had his doubts given that nothing seemed to really slow down this monstrosity of a Predacon. Sure enough, he was right on the money on that aspect given that even with the fire laid down upon the Predacon, Sinnertwin just barreled through the forces, ripping and tearing them apart with his own bare hands if needed. 

Like a lot of his fellow Predacons, Sinnertwin was this horrific insult to nature itself. Back on Cybertron, he’d frequently patrolled his little slice of heaven -or Hell depending on how you chose to look at it- looking for any intruders. And if he found any, he would rip, tear and maul them to shreds just because he simply wanted to. He was a humanitarian in that aspect. Given his multiple heads, and sadistic nature this was something nobody wanted to witness to be quite frank. 

Brawl had to wonder what exactly Onslaught was thinking when he asked for this thing to be Darksteel’s replacement. At least the Hippogriff alt-moded Predacon once had some semblance of morals. This creature did not.

“Is that fear you are feeling, Decepticon? Yes... my spark, it feeds on terror. Let it grow! Let it consume your circuitry! Feel it, yes, feel it! Feel the fear!” Sinnertwin hissed out. “Your persistence is futile, I can only rise again ever the stronger!”

“Then in that case,” Breakdown shouted as he ran towards Sinnertwin with his hammer at the ready. “Let us give you that little bit further to fall!”

With that, he smashed his hammer into Sinnertwin’s face, armor shattering on impact and nearly caving in the Predacon’s head.

“You know what…” Breakdown growled as he and Sinnertwin grappled each other for dominance. “I’m really slaggin’ tired of you and your rhetoric.”

With that, he pulled back his fist, and slammed it into Sinnertwin’s face once more like a powerful piston or a piledriver making him stagger back. Sinnertwin growled and wiped away Energon from his mouth.

“Oh, so you can actually do something. You’re not just this big pile of oil and energon fluid ready to be spilled at my leisure. I do like it when my prey puts up a fight…” He smirked.

“Good, then you’ll really enjoy this!” Brawl roared, as he pulled one of Sinnertwin’s arms right off at the seams, sparks and energon flying everywhere as he did so before using this very same arm as a bludgeon and clubbed Sinnertwin in the face several times.

Finally, from the sheer loss of energon, Sinnertwin fell and slipped into stasis lock. Panting hard, Brawl dropped the arm and motioned for one of the surviving Vehicons to place the collar around Sinnertwin’s neck.

“Sure… Sure we shouldn’t make it one of those explosive collars like the ones we put on Steeljaw and Filch?” Breakdown advised in a wary tone of voice his spark beat slowly returning to the normal rate.

“Onslaught’s specific orders were for this type of collar, but looking at the fight he put up, I’ll advise him on it. This one… he’s going to be a loose cannon. That much is for sure…” Brawl grumbled, signaling for a Groundbridge and dragging Sinnertwin through it. Breakdown grabbed the arm and followed.

Unknown to them, they were being watched by this massive silver griffon-type transformer with a sword for a tail, who with a shifting of parts turned into this chainmail-clad knight transformer with an Autobot sigil branded over his former Predacon one.

“So, seems the Decepticons are getting just that little bit more active,” the wizened old warrior mused to himself, rubbing his faceplates with a finger. One of his hands briefly went for his sword, wondering if he should ambush the Decepticons and finish them off knowing they were undoubtedly tired from the battle with his former comrade, but the Autobot decided against it. Best to watch and wait, see what they did. “Perhaps… Just perhaps it’s time for the Knights of Cybertron to step in once more.”

This Knight knew the locations of all his former comrades, like Scylla and Sky-Byte. The question was, were they still online or if so did they even want to join the battle once more? Most of them, they’d had enough of the war and the shedding of energon and wanted to be left alone. 

“Graah,” the Knight mused to himself. “Won’t know unless I try. Time to see if I can find that old snake Snaptrap... “ he continued to think, before shifting back to his griffon form and taking to the sky. Stormreign, he’d love to know about this new development. Maybe it was time to bring the scourge of the dragonfire back to the earth and wipe the slate clean. It seems even with Megatron’s banishment of the Predacons to Earth, there would always be a past that would come back to haunt their kind. Dragonicus just hoped he didn’t have to involve the humans in his war against the Decepticons, this was their world after all. The Predacons may have been here first, but humanity took Earth for their own and Dragonicus respected them for that. They were a persistent little species, and he’d love to see how they evolved. And if needed, maybe an old knight in shining armor would be there to protect them.







Colorado: The Van De Graaff

Perceptor honestly didn’t know quite what to expect when he stepped onto the floors of the Van De Graaff but what he certainly wasn’t expecting was the unmistakable rusting stench of the dead. Even as he ducked his head to avoid some low hanging wires, he saw the body of a Cybertronian, sea blue and lime green in color resting up against a wall, with one of his arms blown off. Next to him, was an old friend Perceptor recognized and did his old spark well to see still functioning. Hoist, having temporarily dropped a medical kit and was shutting the dead Autobot’s optics one last time.

“Oh Tow-Line, how little you got to live, and how sad your life was knowing nothing but endless war,” Hoist whispered, shaking his head and closing his own optics briefly as he drew the Cybertronic glyphs for light-follower in mid-air with his finger. “May Primus in all his grace show you mercy in the Allspark when this world did not.”

“I’m… sorry,” Perceptor stated softly, as he rested a hand on one of Hoist’s shoulders. He’d never been good with comforting others honestly. There was a reason why he shut himself up in his labs so often, so he wouldn’t have to face the realities of the real world. “A friend?”

“Not really, no,” Hoist sighed. “Just a fellow refugee, I barely knew him as it was. But he was a kind-sparked one, that much I did know. From what Smallfoot told me, he did idolize me and wanted to be a medical officer just like me.” he continued. “Mechanic, that’s what his job on the ship was, at least according to the crew manifest.”

Hoist held up a small datapad, and Perceptor sadly noted that there were so many names he recognized over the years with a red strike through them. Torca, Alpha Bravo, Rook, Rust Dust, Dust Up, Stratosphere, Greasepit. Just to name a few, really.

“None of them, they weren’t just another member of Cybertron’s many gun-toting conscripts to me, Perceptor, Some of them… Maybe not all of them w-were my friends.”

“I understand your grief, all too well Hoist, lost a friend of my own recently you must understand. But remember and forgive me if this sounds cold but we have to… No, we must concern ourselves with those we can still help. The living.”

“Sounds like you’ve been taking a few cues from Ratchet,” Hoist remarked as he turned to look at his old friend. “You were never nearly this nice before. You were always cold, logical. Shut up in those labs of yours.”

“Maybe I just didn’t have the luxury of that. Being kind, I mean. When you’re no longer at war for a time, you can change. Plus, fight’s just become that much more personal these days. It’s no longer people I barely knew, it’s old friends now.” Perceptor replied.

“That could do it,” Hoist sighed as he began walking down the corridor with the others following. “Only just recently woke up from the stasis of space travel, only now just recently finding the bodies and beginning repairs. With a little bit of luck, maybe just one day the Van De Graaff will fly again. I’m done running from the battlefield. Heard Onslaught wanted to start up a war that’s apparently been long over from what Smallfoot told me,” Hoist continued, clenching his fist making it crackle with electricity. “I won’t let any more friends be lost to a war-monger and his madness.”

“Keep up that attitude, and maybe someday you’ll make Prime,” Smallfoot chirped, always the voice of cheerfulness even in the face of tragedy.

“Don’t joke like that,” Hoist commented. “Me? A Prime, now that’s a good laugh!”

“Who said I was joking?” Smallfoot remarked walking off with a small shrug.

“Well, Optimus did come from being an Archivist of all things…” Perceptor mused, adding in his own two cents as the group continued their walk through the ship’s corridors. “Funny how it’s always the most humble of beginnings that make the greatest of leaders.”

“No kidding!” Outback stated, with a dark laugh. “Nominus, a real bastard as much as I hate to speak ill of the dead, he came from nobility. Think he was as arrogant as the Pit even before he made Prime if I remember correctly.”

“Wooooowwww, you guys seem to have really bad luck in leadership,” a familiar voice came from behind everyone, and they all turned to look to see Lemon Zest looking up at them. “Just sayin’.”

“How long has she been there…?” Perceptor wondered aloud and looked at Smallfoot and Outback who could only shrug.

“Er, do humans have the ability to clone themselves?” Smallfoot asked, as she watched the familiar form of Juniper Montage leap down from the ceiling. Sugarcoat, adjusting her glasses stepped out from behind a crate. “...Because last I checked they weren’t with us when we were talking with Fowler.”

“Haven’t you heard? Humans multiply,” Perceptor deadpanned, rubbing his temples. “Really, you had to come along didn’t you?”

“For the record,” Sugarcoat remarked, rubbing her glasses in annoyance. “I just want to say I was dragged into this by these two numbskulls.” she stated, pointing at her friends.

“Hey, an Autobot ship’s an Autobot ship,” Lemon shrugged. “I wanted to meet the new guys, so sue me!”

“...Same, though I wasn’t really expecting…” Juniper continued, trying to search for the right words. “Oh, how do I put this politely? Such a…”

“Mess?” Outback remarked, making Juniper blink in surprise over his bluntness. “Agh, don’t worry squirt. You can say it aloud. We all know the ship’s in quite the sorry state.”

“Wow, you sure like to say things as they are,” Juniper remarked in surprise. “...Sorta like Sugarcoat in a way,” she teased, nudging a very unamused Sugarcoat with her shoulder.

“Eh, I’ve never seen sense in beating around the bush really. There’s a reason I never became a doctor or a field medic. I’d probably tell someone they’re going to die right out, no sense of sugarcoating it at all. I call ‘em like I see them. That’s my motto!”

“...Yep, sounds like Sugarcoat alright,” Juniper remarked. “You sure you aren’t her long-lost Cybertronian brother?”

Sugarcoat only harrumphed and tilted her head skywards while Outback just burst out laughing. “You and I squirt, sounds like we’re going to get along great! What’s your name by the way?”

“Juniper, Juniper Montage,” Juniper replied. “Yours?”

“Outback, pleased to meet ya squirt,” the Nebulan accented minibot stated, kneeling down to Juniper’s level and offering his hand, which Juniper gladly took. “And welcome to our home away from home, the Van De Graaff. Place is a pile of slag and scrap now, but when it was new, one of the shining jewels of the galaxy from what I’ve been told. Pride of its fleet. Tough old bird, I’ll give it that.”

“Well, I'll be reprogrammed with a rivet roller,” Hubcap remarked. “Humans, actual humans! Never thought I’d see the day when one or in this case three stepped aboard our fine ship,” the red Autobot remarked. “Pleasure is all ours. Welcome aboard, miladies!” he said, with a very over the top bow. Hoist just facepalmed.

“Girls, meet Hubcap,” Perceptor remarked. “One of the finest communications specialists this side of the Baldigus Belt.”

“And my makeshift assistant in repairing this old junk heap,” Hoist remarked. “Speaking of which, weren’t you trying to get the auto-cannons back online?” he asked, with a critically raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, so sorry. Just heard the commotion, wanted to see what was what. That’s all,” Hubcap apologized, twirling a wrench in his right hand and holding a welding torch in the other. “I’ll get back to work on getting those ready for battle if the time ever comes.”

He ran off, before a loud crash and a shout of “I’m okay!” came from somewhere nearby. Hoist facepalmed.

Road Rage, who had been staying mostly silent throughout this whole walk then stifled a sob as she stumbled upon the broken body of a mostly orange Autobot.

“Oh Scoop... “ she whispered.

“Was he… I mean, did you know him well?” Juniper asked.

“He… He was a friend,” Road Rage murmured, though her tone indicated something more. “Had this penchant for religion, always incorporated it in his combat style.”

“You mean he was like this… religious extremist?” Juniper asked delicately, not sure if she really wanted to know. Road Rage gave her a hard look.

“Oh, he was hardly a religious extremist, far from it actually! Scoop, he just had this habit of quoting scripture so often you wanted to shove the Covenant up his…” Road Rage trailed off, and choked on her laughter. 

“I… I see.” Juniper nodded. “I… I didn’t mean any disrespect, just so you know.”

“Just… Just don’t say anything else, you understand?” Road Rage asked coldly. Juniper got the point, and shut up. After a few moments of silence, Perceptor cleared his throat.

“Okay, so who do we got?” Perceptor asked. “Alive and well, I mean?”

“Well, aside from myself, Hubcap, Smallfoot, and Hoist?” Outback replied. “There’s our Captain of this ship Pyra Magna. Plus, Night Ranger should be coming in from patrol any time soon.”

“...Small list of survivors…” Perceptor murmured to himself quietly. It was a good crew, it must have been said, but Onslaught was relentless and Primus only knew what his endgame to restart the war was. They’d need all the help they could get, and while Perceptor would gladly take this bunch he would love a few more helping hands. He then noticed Outback and Smallfoot suck in a few awkward breaths at Pyra Magna’s name.

“...Something wrong I should know about?” Perceptor asked.

“Oh, how do we put this…?” Hoist murmured. “I know there’s that old saying where there’s life there’s hope, but with Pyra…” he trailed off.

“How bad?” Perceptor asked, getting right to the point.

“Come with me, this is something you have to see for yourself,” Hoist stated, gesturing for Perceptor to follow him to the bridge. When they got there, Perceptor’s crystal blue optics widened in horror and his jaw dropped.

Pyra Magna was once a fine Autobot, and probably still was if Hoist’s information -Which Perceptor was barely paying attention to- was correct. Apparently, while coming to Earth, the Van De Graaff hit an asteroid belt and was knocked around quite a bit. But Pyra, even after the helmsman had been offlined had stayed piloting the ship down to Earth where it had impacted the mountainside it was currently lodged in.

The once majestic Autobot commander was now lying half-offline, a limb hanging loosely at her side. The other had fallen off, and a few energon leaks were present with just a few patch kits here and there barely keeping her alive.

“Did as best as I could, the only right thing to do,” Hoist remarked stiffly. “Weathered us through the storm, had to return the favor in some way I guess.”

“Okay, judging from the damage and I’m only just getting started with the physical aspects as only Primus knows what kind of damage she has to her psyche,” Perceptor mused as he walked over to the much taller Autobot and began scanning her chassis. “I’d say at the very least we’d need an Energon Transfusion, perhaps a total reformatting,” he muttered, already getting nightmarish flashbacks to Hound.

“Yeah, I’d suspected about as much…” Hoist murmured, his voice devoid of its usual jovialness. “I’ll get a stretcher ready.”

Then, they heard a choked back sob, and saw Lemon’s form dashing from the room.

“Lemon!” Smallfoot called after her, before running after the young Wondercolt. Eventually, the Minibot caught up with her somewhere outside the ship, at a cliffside overlooking the small towns and rivers and forests below. The sun was setting, casting a beautiful orange glow over the Colorado countryside.

Lemon was sitting on the edge of the cliff, small tears leaking from her eyes. Smallfoot, not entirely sure what to do, sat down next to Lemon and just let her cry into her shoulder.

“Hey, you going to be alright?” Smallfoot asked, dropping her own mask.

“...I… I don’t know. When all this started up, I was excited to be around giant robots. Wham, bam! Beating the scrap out of each other, but now… I’ve just seen so much death and…” she fought back another sob.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I’ve lost friends myself, you saw the crew. Who was it for you?”

“H-Hound,” Lemon whispered in reply, wiping away some of her tears. “He… He was a friend, helped me get together with my best bud Indigo. Y-You should meet her sometime, something tells me you two would get along. You?”

“Two friends of mine, Shatter and Dropkick. Old friends back during my academy days. Both got lucky enough to be handed the status of Triple-Changer. Wanted them to come with us, but just as the Van De Graaff was being readied for takeoff, we came under Decepticon attack. Held the line for as long as they could, but…”

Smallfoot shut her eyes in remembrance, seeing her two old friends go up in a fireball of an explosion. She had Brawl and another Decepticon, Lugnut to thank for that.

“Listen Lemon, listen well. Cherish the life you have with your friends while you have it, and keep it in your memories, because one day soon they may be just that… Ashes in the wind.” Smallfoot stated, and Lemon nodded.

“To old friends?” she asked.

“To old friends.”





Far away aboard the Darksyde, Onslaught stood over an operating table with Sinnertwin below him. He pulled out a small blade, flashing with energon. Underneath his battle mask, he smirked.

“Time for my… surgical strike.” he said as he lowered the blade to Sinnertwin's torso.
> Part 25: The Human Factor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Hoover Dam:

Captain William ‘Wild Bill’ Lennox considered himself a capable man, he’d been a survivor of the War on Terror, and during that time in Iraq had quickly risen through the ranks to make Captain at the age of only 25. Now, a few years later the Army Ranger found himself doing something less exciting in guarding the Hoover Dam in Colorado. Not that he really minded, as this particular post was actually quite close to home for him, and it allowed him the chance to go home to his wife and daughter without the risk of getting blown up by some insurgent’s bomb.

Still, he did have to question why the Hoover Dam was under particularly heavy guard really. Tanks had been positioned in key locations atop cliffs hidden amongst the trees, and army jeeps with mounted turrets patrolled the area.

He, at least in his mind would have liked to chalk it up to just good old-fashioned American patriotism but deep down he knew that wasn’t the case. Not too long ago, the Greeks had discovered both the Temple of Apollo and the Acropolis on Rhodes smashed to bits by some unknown force, and it seems tank shells were used to destroy quite a bit of the sites. It was like some great battle had taken place there, and yet because of the storm raging that particular night very few could figure out what exactly had gone on down there. 

There had been terrorist groups -local ones mostly- claiming responsibility, but Lennox had heard rumors from a friend of his in Robert Epps that some higher-ups believed that whoever these groups were they wouldn’t stop in Greece. There had already been an incident outside Mexico City a few months back where some ancient monuments devoted to some Mayan god had been completely destroyed.

So Lennox suspected that he’d been placed at this particular post just simply because Hoover Dam would probably be next on the list. It was entirely possible everyone was just being paranoid as the Dam wasn’t exactly what you’d call a UNESCO World Heritage Site but then again these days it never hurt to be too careful really.

So Lennox just sucked in his gut and followed orders like a good soldier. At least, that’s what he’d have liked to have done. He hadn’t made Captain just by simply following the orders he was given really. No, there was a moment back in Iraq where he was ordered to pull out of a village when Al-Qaeda troops were closing in on his platoon with heavy armament but the man had stayed his ground.

It may have been the Marine code never to leave a man behind, but Lennox liked to follow that code as well, and he still had men trapped in the rubble of a destroyed house and he was not going to pull out in any form of good conscience by leaving those men behind. One of those men would eventually become the man he was proud to call his best friend, Robert Epps.

“You feel that?” Epps asked him, even as he clutched onto his rifle. “It’s… it’s that tension in the air. Like something’s about to happen, you just don’t know what it is, or when it’s going to go down.”

“Yeah,” Lennox remarked. “I feel it. Epps, strange things have been happening lately. You heard on the news a while back, about this brawl on a Maine freeway? Apparently, from the news footage it looked like something out of the Fast and Furious movies.”

“Hoo boy, yeah I saw that,” Epps replied, shaking his head. “Claimed they were only filming a movie, even had a police car and some local state troopers barricade off the highway but what little I saw of the footage looked too realistic to be some movie to me. Something weird’s going on Bill, you and I both know it.”

“Tell me about it, World Heritage sites getting attacked, us being re-assigned to guard the Hoover Dam, reports of strange giant monstrous beasts of myth and legend cropping up all over the world? It’s like our whole world’s gone mad.”

“You believe in God right Bill?” Epps asked.

“...Oh, don’t start on this. Please don’t.” Lennox muttered.

“Hey, I’m just saying this could very well be the start of the book of Revelations.”

“Okay, when fire and brimstone start falling from the sky, the dead rise from the grave and cats and dogs start living together then I’ll believe it,” Lennox replied. “Personally right now, I just think it’s weird. Not Wrath of God levels of weird but just plain run of the mill weird.”

“That’s how it starts man,” Epps replied. “The good Lord raises up your enemies with his right hand, and then he smites you with his left.”

“...I thought it was the other way around?”

Epps shrugged before replying: “It varies.” before he and Lennox shared a hearty laugh. “But I will agree with you on this, this post is a strange re-assignment. Not bad of one, there could be worse posts as we could be out there in Mosul or wherever fighting off Boko Haram and his band of nutcases.”

“True, true…” Lennox replied. “Thank God for redeployment stateside eh?”

“I’ll drink to that,” Epps said before he popped open a can of beer. “Quite literally, in fact.”

There was a roar of an engine as they, from their current spot atop some jeep’s hood saw a deep crimson Chevy Camaro approach, with whoever owned it having apparently put quite a bit of work into it, giving it some matte black detailing on the hood and some nice aftermarket star-themed rims.

“See?” Epps asked as he drunk a bit of his beer. “Now why can’t you just go out and buy yourself a nice car like that? Instead, every day you just show up in that God-awful minivan of yours. You do realize you look like a soccer mom, or soccer dad I suppose in that thing right?” he joked.

“Hey, I’ve got a family to think about, that’s why!” Lennox replied. “Gotta drive the kids to school sometimes, and I doubt a muscle car would be particularly helpful in that regard.”

“See Lennox, there are two types of cars. The boring soccer dad car, and the fun I want to be a cool fun parent type of car. That Camaro right there? That’s the second type. Take a guess as to what’s the first.” Epps deadpanned.

“...Wait a moment, last I checked civilians weren’t allowed on base right?” Lennox asked, ignoring Epp’s ribbing.

“How do you know it’s a civilian? Could be just one of the guys showing off their fancy cool dad car,” he remarked, unable to resist getting in one last gentle ribbing against his friend. “Hell, for all we know it could be the boss.”

“...Trust me, I know everyone on base, and nobody -especially not the commander- owns a car like that.” Lennox replied, and Epps nodded.

“Good point,” he stated before both he and Lennox ran over to the driver’s side door of this car and gave a slight tap on the glass. “Um sir, we’d like to see some ID.”

Well, in a way I suppose they got that as the car’s parts began to shift and move and Epps and Lennox stood slack-jawed as the ‘car’ began to stand upright before next thing they knew an insectoid-like face with green eyes was staring down at them.

“Oh Hell no!” Epps shouted as he raised his rifle and began firing on the intruder, who simply seemed to brush off the shots. Alarms began to go off all over the dam, and as if to make matters worse both a fuel tanker and the very jeep Lennox and Epps had been sitting on a few moments before followed the car’s lead and transformed into massive robots toting equally massive rifles.

“Cleanse the area!” the red robot -Who from his facial features Lennox would call Stinger for the time being- ordered, pointing to the various troops and their vehicles before he grabbed a jeep and tossed it skywards. A cannon shot from a tank positioned high above on a clifftop somewhere rank out just barely missing Stinger’s arm before Stinger pulled out what looked to be a massive shuriken -Lennox recognized a few parts of it came from the car’s rims- and tossed it cleaving the tank clean in half right down the middle.

The robot who’d transformed from this fuel tanker brought out this giant rotating blade and began cutting a path through the heavy armor firing his rifle at any poor souls who tried to stop him.

“Agh, finally!” Octane shouted. “No more of this robot in disguise crap!”

“You’re not kidding!” Swindle agreed as he smashed a troop transport flat with his foot. “I swear, if I had to spend one more day as that jeep listening to human chatter my joints would go numb! They’d lock, seize up! You know how much of a pain that is to deal with?”

Lennox and Epps, during all this chaos took cover behind the wreckage of a building, and Lennox looked at his friend.

“Okay, maybe now I believe you,” Lennox stated, as he tried firing off shots with his pistol that seemed to do very little damage against the attacking forces currently razing the place. “Where’s your radio?”

“Man, I don’t know what kind of backup you plan on calling in to help out, but go right ahead!” Epps shouted in reply as he watched the three robots lay waste to the Dam. “Left cheek, left cheek!”

Lennox quickly grabbed the radio out of Epp’s back pocket and called the situation in.

“This is Captain Lennox of the US Army Rangers. We are under attack, I repeat Hoover Dam is under attack by some sort of robot… things!” He shouted.

“This is Special Agent William Fowler,” a voice Lennox recognized as one of his old commanders echoed through the radio. “Repeat, over.”

“How the…?” Lennox muttered, with a shake of his head. “I said, we are under attack by some giant robot things! That’s not the kind of thing you mistake, for fuck’s sake!”

“Goddamnit!” Fowler swore in return. “I’ll be sending forces your way shortly. Expect GI Joe Skystrikers amongst… other things en route shortly.”

“Let’s just hope they get here fast,” Lennox muttered, as he fired his rifle on Stinger, who was currently engaging in some wanton destruction with another car rim, using it as a chakram to slice a tank in half.

“Oh, now this is just cute,” Stinger said as he turned on Lennox, pulling both of his weapons. “Real cute. Some human germ thinking they can go up against me.”

“...Yeah, well call it my duty to protect my own,” Lennox stated, gritting his teeth as he unloaded more rounds into Stinger’s body. During this chaos, he’d noticed very distinctive purple symbols, almost resembling faces on the bodies of the three attacking robots. He didn’t know what they meant, maybe they signified their regiment or something. That was his best guess. The Jeep robot, in particular, had a scratched out symbol, a red face with wings on his left shoulder amongst numerous other battle scars.

“You’re just like Autobots then…” Stinger remarked as he continued his advance, and lowered himself down to Lennox’s level. “Far too loyal to your own. Credit where it’s due,” he continued, as Lennox found himself backed up against a ruined tank. “You’re putting up a fight, but you’re nothing against me.”

Suddenly, there was a battle cry as Epps leaped out from behind some wreckage, and grabbed onto Stinger’s back, the robot flailing about madly as Epps clambered up his backside before he threw a grenade down Stinger’s throat.

“Get clear!” Epps shouted as he leaped off Stinger and onto the roof of a car before Lennox nodded and ran for it as Stinger’s head exploded, parts and shrapnel alongside this strange blue goo flying everywhere.

“...Well, that’s… one minor victory. One down, two to go…” Lennox panted out.







The Autobase:

Meanwhile, currently unaware that their cover had pretty much been blown wide open by the Decepticons, the Autobots had returned Pyra Magna along with the rest of the surviving crew of the Van De Graaff to their outpost deep within Maine’s Ghastly Gorge.

Currently, Perceptor had lain Pyra Magna’s barely functioning body flat on a table and aside from hooking up tubes to feed her energon and get her internal repair systems back up to full capacity, he with a little help from Hoist was reattaching her missing arm.

“Old girl’s as tough as nails, I’ll give her that much,” Hoist remarked. “Put up a jolly good fight trying to stay alive this long, just hoping someone with more medical experience would find her. She never lost faith.”

“And Primus repaid that,” Perceptor replied. “You know what they say about Sparks right? When one comes online, the universe gives a cheer of great joy. But when one is extinguished…”

“...The universe weeps,” Hoist replied. “Pyra’s always been a special sort, you know? That soul of hers, it’s always burned with a powerful flame that’s fueled her need to survive.”

Perceptor cocked an eyebrow at Hoist’s choice of phrasing and his tone, but thought nothing more of it.

“Yeah, I believe you, I’ve heard the stories after all. Her leading her team, the so-called ‘Rust Renegades’ is proof alone of that,” Perceptor replied with a small nod before he took a quick look at her vital signs. “Okay, she’s stable, but we need to work fast if we have any chance of saving her. I’m not letting anyone else die, not on my watch!”

“And neither am I,” Hoist stated with a firm nod. “Already lost too many, I’m not losing her.”

Perceptor nodded, even as he thought to himself. The way Hoist was, so determined to save Pyra above all else almost led one to believe he might have had more than a passing interest in her. But then again, it was just entirely possible that Hoist after losing so many of his crewmates on the Van De Graaff not to mention Primus only knew how many other friends in the war for Cybertron he just didn’t want to lose anyone else. Perceptor knew how that felt, it was what drove him to try and save Hound so badly even if in the end he had no choice but to pull the plug.

“We’re stronger together than we are apart…” Hoist murmured, reciting an old passage from the Covenant of Primus. Meanwhile, Swordbreaker and Knock Out looked on.

“Stronger together than apart'. Ugh.” Swordbreaker muttered, chewing on a cy-gar. Which to Knock Out, looked suspiciously like a bullet casing.

“What?” Knock Out asked. “I rather like the phrase.”

Your choice ‘Con’. Not mine. It's so... squooshey. I mean, who talks that way?”

“I don't know—nice people?” Knock Out deadpanned. “And just so I can remind you, I was only forced to become a Decepticon because of circumstances beyond my control.”

“So you say…” Swordbreaker muttered, blowing a puff of smoke from his cy-gar into Knock Out’s face.

“Hey, hey, hey!” the former Decepticon shouted, waving the smoke away as he let out a few small coughs. “Do you know what that stuff does to my internal components? I like to keep my insides looking as good as my outsides thank you very much! Primus above!”

Swordbreaker rolled his optics, before walking off his echoing footsteps being heard throughout the base. Knock Out sighed, and continued to carefully watch Pyra Magna’s vital signals ready to be of assistance if required.

“Come on Magna, pull through. If any one of the rumors I’ve heard about you are true, you’re a good bot, and we need more of those right now.” He thought to himself.

Unknown to him or anyone else for that matter, Pyra Magna was more alive than they thought, her mind still hard at work even if her body was in considerably poor condition. Even now, she was running through her last moments in the waking world as she piloted her ship and it’s crew into a hopefully safe landing.

“I thought I understood trauma,” Pyra thought to herself, reliving days of battles long since past in the Cybertronian Civil War. “We were losing so much, and gaining so little. Small wonder why the crew I got signed on to flee Cybertron for greener pastures. But I was fooling myself, loss followed us everywhere we went.” she thought, thinking of her first mate Dust Up being blown backwards by an exploding console and joining the great One in the beyond. 

“I… I just hope that my mission, in most respects, was a success and my crew -however many remain- are safe and sound.” Pyra thought only able to hear what was going on around her thanks to her optics being practically shattered. They weren’t beyond repair of course, most of her systems weren’t. It would just take time for her internal repair mechanisms to kick back into gear. She was thankful when she heard the voice of Hoist, and let out a mental sigh of relief that her ship’s chief medical officer was online and had joined up with Perceptor. Where there was life, there was hope.

She’d heard other voices in the background, although most were too faint to make out, and the ones she did hear she barely recognized as it is. But none seemed to mean her no harm, and given the fact that Perceptor and Hoist were in the area she doubted she’d fallen into enemy hands. If that was the case, chances are Decepticons wouldn’t have bothered having Hoist and Perceptor work on her chassis and give her new energon to course through her systems. No, more likely they’d have just finished the job the crash of the Van De Graaff had already started. 

That alone gave her hope that she had succeeded in where others had failed.

A new voice joined in, feminine in tone and sounding urgent.

“Perceptor… We’ve… I just got a call from Fowler. There’s… There’s an attack. The Hoover Dam,’ the woman’s voice panted out, sounding as if it’s owner was about ready to collapse.

“Chrysalis, is that you?” Perceptor’s voice asked, before his tone turned into that of shock. “What’s wrong? ...Wait, is that a Decepticon?”

Mentally filing away that name for later, even as her spark raced upon hearing their was a Decepticon in… wherever she was.

“Name’s Howlback, and yes I’m a Decepticon. But I’m on your side, I’ll explain the details later, right now we have a problem.” ‘Howlback’ replied.






Back at the Dam, it seemed reinforcements had arrived, the roar of jets coming in from somewhere above.

“Damn, they got here awfully fast!” Epps shouted as both he and Lennox ran like Hell to dodge Swindle and Octane’s fire.

“Yeah, too fast…” Lennox noted, observing the paint-jobs of the F-15 Raptors that were currently inbound. For one thing, most Raptors in the military today weren’t purple or green in shading. And for another, F-15s weren’t even in use anymore.

The lead jet, the one coated in this green shading, as he flew in across the man-made lake towards Lennox and Epps seemed to narrow in on them as he left a powerful wake behind him. Then, right before he reached the battleground the exterior of the dam had become, parts moved and shifted as the jet’s nose and cockpit tilted backwards and a head popped up with the engines and rear wings becoming legs and arms sprouting out of the ‘jet’s’ shell. 

“Oh hell…” Lennox muttered as the Decepticon known only as Acid Storm landed in front of them, pulling out a rifle and smirking as he aimed it at them.

“Well well, so these are the two humans that have been giving ya so much trouble eh?” Acid Storm asked his ‘friend’ Swindle, sounding a bit like an Old West gunslinger. “Don’t seem like much, if yer asking for mah opinion.”

“I think you’ll find humans are little tougher than they look,” Swindle remarked, in a tone of slight respect -Slight- as he gestured to the decapitated body of Stinger. Acid Storm nodded, before he raised his rifle, the barrel glowing green slightly and as Lennox braced for death whispering his last goodbyes to his wife and daughter a voice rang out.

“And we’re even tougher!” Swordbreaker’s voice bellowed out as he, Prowl and Knock Out jumped out of a Groundbridge, and in mid-air transformed even as Lennox and Epp’s eyes went even wider if that were possible.

As soon as Knock Out completed his transformation, he landed a kick to Acid Storm’s stomach, the military camoed seeker stumbling back in shock as nearby, other Vehicons landed and transformed laying down covering fire, with Prowl and Swordbreaker returning it.

Back at base, Trixie was watching this whole incident with worried eyes, actually spotting her girlfriend in her armor somewhere in the midst of the chaos.

“I… I wish I could be useful. Like them,” she thought to herself even as she watched both Lemon Zest and Sugarcoat change into rifles for Prowl to hold, and be used to gun down Vehicon troopers. “But… But I’m not. Trixie’s just a simple magician. She’s not smart, she’s not a good shot. She’s just… well, a boastful braggart who can’t even bedazzle an audience. I can’t even be out in the field like them, all because I’m such a coward.”

Swordbreaker, in fact, was actually living up to his name going blade to blade with Octane, sparks flying off the two metal warrior’s weapons as they clashed again and again the two an even match for each other. The Toyota Tundra was soon swarmed by various Vehicons, but he didn’t exactly look impressed.

“Have you forgotten who I am?” he roared out, breaking away from his duel with Octane before swinging wide and decapitating the group. One managed to survive, having ducked low apparently knowing of Swordbreaker’s reputation before Swordbreaker flipped the cy-gar in his mouth, and fired it at the Vehicon slagging him.

Suddenly, Swordbreaker having apparently forgotten about his prior engagement was shoulder-charged by Octane knocking him flat to the ground with a mighty clang of metal.

“And I thought you were supposed to be tough!” Octane laughed, swinging his blade low to the ground intent on impaling Swordbreaker before the mercenary turned Autobot shifted back into vehicle mode and did a donut all around Octane kicking up a storm of dust in the process.

“What the…?” Octane roared. “For Primus’ sakes, I can’t see!”

“That’s the idea, slagger!” Swordbreaker shouted before he released what looked to be an orange mechanical bird resembling a hawk except slightly bigger and with fans in its wings. The hawk then let out a powerful blast of sound, making Octane stumble back.

“...Huh, guess those wubs are useful for something after all.” Swordbreaker muttered, and the bird made a little noise, seemingly offended.

“...Okay, can someone please explain to me what’s going on around here?” Epps asked, completely lost even as Acid Storm took to the skies transforming back to jet mode and seemingly flying off leaving a contrail in his wake. Transforming robots, transforming girls in mecha suits. Man, when he signed up to the military he didn’t sign up for any of this crap. Before, it was just pointing your gun at the enemy terrorist, and shoot them for God and Country. This was so beyond him now. He needed a raise.

Nearby, Swindle and Prowl were trading blows, Prowl having changed his Decepticon Hunter into a form of riot shield made of energy using this to block Swindle’s gunfire, the jeep transformer’s rifle now mounted on his shoulder.

“Beats the Hell out of me,” Lennox remarked. “But I’m guessing those guys, the ones that just saved our asses are good and the ones ripping up the place are bad.”

“Well, you catch on fast,” Knock Out remarked admiringly, in his faux-European accent. Nearby, Howlback leaped over his shoulder and pounced on a Vehicon finally showing her true colors to everyone involved in this battle. “Good to know!”

Some more Vehicon troopers ran up, but Knock Out was joined by Lemon Zest who turned into her rifle form and together the two began cutting them down. Sometimes literally, thanks to Knock Out’s surgical saw.

“Uh, quick question, was rain supposed to be scheduled today?” Epps asked, even as storm clouds seemingly began to build crackling with lightning. Knock Out’s optics widened in alarm.

“Prowl!” he shouted to the bot currently engaging Swindle. “Rainmaker!”

Prowl swore in some unknown language caught off guard by this new development before Swindle landed a resounding right hook to his faceplates.

“Meet our trump card Autobots!” Swindle cackled. “Made sure to coat ourselves in a special paint that wards off Acid Storm’s special payload beforehand, did you?” he asked.

“Slag-damnit!” Swordbreaker shouted as the rains began to pour down with parts of his body beginning to rust and fall off, including a hand. Namely, the one that held his sword. Octane used this opportunity to grab him by the shoulder and practically judo-flip the massive Autobot.

“Time ta bring the rain!” Acid Storm cackled, as the clouds continued to open up.

“So it seems an old warrior has his time…” Swindle chuckled as he watched Prowl try and stand, and chuckled even more as he watched Swordbreaker practically collapse to the ground.

“Really Swordbreaker,” Swindle continued to mock as both Howlback and Sunder fell to the ground, quite close to death themselves. “For all your preparedness, you should have expected this. Anyone Onslaught deems of use, he makes use of. You should have thrown your lot in with us, might have turned out better for you in the end. Might have lived to see yourself getting paid.”

“S-Shut up…” Swordbreaker snarled. “I never go back on my deals, and I especially don’t make them with ‘Cons. Call me stubborn, call me old, but here’s the thing about us old warriors. We’re tough!”

Parts on his back shifted, and twin shurikens fired out of his body severing both of Swindle’s limbs. Vehicons rushed in to help Swindle in with his retreat, and avenge his wounds, but Knock Out seemingly showing no concern for his own life or limb rushed in, slicing up the foot soldiers.

“Knock Out, get out of there!” Swordbreaker coughed out, having been in the rain the longest.

“No, I’m not leaving you behind. You put faith in me, you never said it, but you did. You could have killed me any time when I was with you guys,” Knock Out stated, ignoring a limb falling away even as he picked up Swordbreaker’s weapon and sliced a Vehicon’s head off clean from his shoulders. The Vehicons, getting the message, grabbed Swindle’s limbs and retreated through a portal even as Knock Out collapsed.

“Also, as it turns out we make friends easily, us old warriors. Turns out, humans are a lot tougher than you think.” Swordbreaker stated, before Twilight Sparkle leaped out from behind some rubble, and fired off twin magic blasts, her geode glowing purple. One hit Octane. Making him stagger, while another ripped off a part of Acid Storm’s right wing, and the Rainmaker decided it was high time to bail out taking his storm with him.

“Twilight…” Trixie thought to herself jealousy, seeing her girlfriend kick the scrap out of the Decepticons and show the courage in which Trixie lacked. Unable to watch any more of this, she switched the viewscreen off and punched a wall, letting out a scream of frustration.

Meanwhile, Twilight was rushing to Swordbreaker’s side.

“Are… Are you okay?” the former Crystal Prep student asked, as she placed her hands on Swordbreaker’s faceplates, a lot of his body having already crumbled away into rust.

“I’ll… I’ll be fine, you understand kid?” Swordbreaker asked, an optic falling away. “You… You just live your life. I’ve had a good run, engine’s been good to me for all these years. Guess it’s just my time to finally cough out,” he continued, systems beginning to shut down with the lights on his body beginning to go out one by one. “The Thirteen, they’re waiting for me. I just hope they can forgive this old warrior’s sins.”

With that, he finally collapsed even as Twilight stifled a sob, before letting the tears flow into Swordbreaker’s broken chassis.

As the storm subsided, Prowl began to pick himself up off the ground ignoring the pain in his rust-filled joints and walked towards the humans and lowered himself down to their level.

“I think… I think you and I need to have a talk,” he stated, and Lennox nodded, automatically recognizing Prowl's rank for what it was.

“Yes, I agree with you Commander…”

“Prowl. Just call me Prowl.”







Meanwhile, in Sri Lanka Steeljaw and Filch had found themselves in front of an ancient temple, worn with age and covered in vines.

Filch suppressed a shudder, fear was unbecoming of a Predacon. But something about this temple, it just felt wrong. Especially if it turned out Thunderclash’s information was incorrect and Airazor was not happy about visitors. 

And then there was the fact that she suspected the hunters had turned into the hunted, as she still kept seeing this massive white mechanical cat darting between the trees every now and then.

“Airazor, is that what they call you?” Steeljaw asked, yelling out to the interior of the massive temple. “Just want to talk, that’s all!”

Suddenly, there was a loud screech, and a flash of dark-colored metal as a massive falcon flew out of the darkened woods and pinned Steeljaw to the ground, before with a shifting of parts became bipedal in nature, a blue and red head staring down Steeljaw. Two massive talons made up her hands, both surely able to render a bot limb from limb.

“Then speak.” Airazor stated.
> Part 26: Let's Bungle in the Jungle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sri Lanka:

“F-For the record,” Steeljaw stammered out, quite understandably wary of Airazor’s talons that she called hands. “I had no intent on disturbing your slumber.”

Airazor actually laughed at that, somewhat muffled by the deep red battlemask over her faceplates.

“You’re a funny one really,” the Predacon remarked. “If you had no intent on disturbing my slumber, why’d you and your bunch come tromping through my forest when I wanted to be very well left alone?”

Steeljaw filed that information away for later, presuming he survived this. As far as he was aware, he and Filch were the only Cybertronians aside from Airazor for miles around. Well, them and that mysterious tiger who kept on following them.

“And your little friend or mate or whatever, she can stop hiding behind a tree,” Airazor commented, gesturing to a nearby section of undergrowth and forest where Filch in robot mode was just barely managing to hide herself. “Not like I can’t see her anyways.”

Filch blushed red, although whether that was from the mate comment or just being found out it was impossible to tell. 

“I’m… I’m not his…” Filch stammered out while Airazor just laughed her head off. “Oh for Onyx’s sake, never mind. Listen, the only reason we’re here and I do apologize if we woke you up from your nap but Thunderclash specifically asked us to come to seek you out.”

Airazor walked over to Filch, actually being somewhat taller than her fellow Predacon. This, combined with those optics of hers and a battlemask that couldn’t help you figure out what she was really thinking all in all gave Airazor this very intimidating posture. Steeljaw looked understandably nervous, and his tail absentmindedly twitched nervously.

“Oh relax… Steeljaw was it, I’m not going to hurt her. If Thunderclash likes you -And believe me, I already know he does, as he normally wouldn’t let intruders to his domain leave alive- then I’m perfectly fine with you two as well. Simple as that.” Airazor replied with a small shrug of her shoulders.

“...Well, that’s a relief.” Steeljaw muttered, and Airazor chuckled.

“What, worried your silver tongue wouldn’t get you out of this one eh, Wolfy?” Airazor laughed, and Steeljaw’s face scrunched up either from such a cutesy nickname or just in surprise. Filch made a hissing sound of possible jealousy. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. I’ve been keeping in touch with radio chatter as of late, seeing what’s going on the world. Your name’s been cropping up a few times, namely amongst your fellow Decepticons wondering where you scampered off to. Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? Apparently everyone in your squad, and about what you and Quinn King over here would get up to once you went rogue after your little vanishing act in Mexico a while back.”

“...Wow, you’re as observant as the legends make you out to be Devil Bird,” Steeljaw remarked in a deadpan tone.

“By Onyx Prime’s spark DeWitt, I swear…” Airazor muttered with a small shake of her head and a groan. “Me, a devil? I think not!” she huffed.

“I’m just happy to meet you at last!” Filch chirped, sounding almost a bit like a parakeet despite what her bird form resembled. “I mean… you’re a freaking living legend amongst Predacons!”

“My first fan. That's why I spend all of my time lately living out in forests and called some devil bird by the locals, it’s because of the fame and the glamour.” Airazor deadpanned.

“...And I’m beginning to see why she doesn’t get many visitors.” Steeljaw muttered largely to himself, feeling a headache coming on. ...Could Cybertronians even get those, he wondered. For that little comment, Airazor gave him a particularly fierce, downright nasty glare.

“...I get no respect.” Steeljaw grumbled to himself.

“You’ll get that respect when you earn it Dogmeat.” Airazor replied in turn. Filch burst out laughing.

“I-I will not be compared to that dog from that video game series!” Steeljaw exclaimed in a mix of embarrassment and indignity. This made Filch only laugh harder, clutching her chassis in amusement.

“Well, she certainly schooled you!” she cackled, and Steeljaw looked quite put off by this remark.

“...They’re ganging up on me,” he muttered, with a low hang of his head. Ignoring the now quite thoroughly annoyed Decepticon, Airazor walked back over to Filch and studied her. While she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, there was something off about this particular Predacon. Her chassis, it was more streamlined and less beast-like in a lot of respects, which was particularly unusual. And then there were the turbine fan blades in her shoulderpads, something no normal Predacon ever bore. Then again, Airazor had no room to talk about being a normal Predacon really, considering she bore turbines in her wings as well. Unusual CNA mutation in her case really, not something anyone had ever figured out or even really had the time to actually bother to considering how ‘well-loved’ Predacons generally were amongst other Cybertronians. It’d happened before with a Predacon named Sunder, if she remembered her facts correctly. But with Filch, well she suspected something more was afoot here.

“Have to say,” Airazor remarked in a curious tone. “Never seen a Predacon quite like you before. Something different about you really. Actually, something different about both you and Wolfy over there really,” she continued, gesturing behind her with a finger.

“Oh, so you noticed that…?” Filch replied glumly with a small slumping of her shoulders. “Yeah, guess it’s sorta obvious innit?”

“Hey Tweety it’s alright,” Airazor said with a small smile sitting down next to Filch dropping her moderately annoyed demeanor. “We’re all Predacons here aren’t we?” she said, gesturing to the small badge on Filch’s chest plating resembling an orange dragon’s head. Below it, a Decepticon symbol but partially clawed through. Steeljaw’s own, now that Airazor thought of it bore the same distinctive claw marks. It was entirely possible that both sets of claw marks belonged to Steeljaw, given the razor-sharp claws he bore instead of traditional fingers. He, like Filch was rather odd. He possessed quite a few regular Cybertronian features, but then there was that oddity of a tail hanging loosely off his backside and his wolfish face.

“Yeah… I suppose, more of less,” Filch remarked, stifling a chuckle at being called Tweety. Airazor seemed to have a love of witty remarks and a passion for nicknaming bots whether they liked it or not.

“Can… Can we just drop it?” Steeljaw asked not really wanting to get into either his or his friend’s rather painful pasts, before Filch gave him a look.

“No, she has every right to know. Can’t avoid the question every time someone asks it, and I do want to win over her trust so she might as well know what that monster did to us.” Filch told her partner sternly, with a trace of shame in her tone.

“So, what exactly happened to you?” Airazor asked, more than a hint of concern in her tone.

“Well…” Filch sighed. “Suppose I should start at the beginning really. You ever heard the name Shockwave before?”

“You know, you fascinate me,” Shockwave stepped out into the light. “For being a machine, I would have expected a more vehicle-like transformation out of you. But instead, you take the form of a winged creation; but not a sleek and rocket-fueled one like Starscream or Thundercracker; and instead a more beastial form. It amazes me, a Predacon still surviving to this very day.“And yet, still, you disappoint me. You could be something more. Something with potential; a beast with an ambition, a goal, a purpose, even.”

Airazor winced. “Who hasn’t?” she muttered, her chassis shuddering slightly in a mix of disgust and fear.

“Right… stupid question I guess,” Filch sighed and looked away from her fellow Predacon with no small amount of shame. Airazor’s optics widened in realization, and she let out a low hiss of anger.

“Bastard. He… He got to you and Steeljaw didn’t he?” she asked in a soft gentle tone, that didn’t really sound all that right coming from such a rather intimidating bot such as her really. At least in Filch’s opinion. Even now, the memories still came flashing back to Filch. They always did, every time she thought about that moment in her life. That cold, emotionless tone and that pain she’d felt. And the shame of being captured and used as some lab rat.

“What was that?” He leaned in closer to Filch’s ear. “I didn’t quite catch that. Was that a sense of resistance, even when your mind is about to be subdued?”

He turned on the lights and revealed two tanks, where two Autobots rested in some sort of green fluid. One, blue and gold and bearing spikes all over his torso and the other a teal-blue with razor-sharp claws, a wolfish face and a tail hanging limp. “I’ve done this before, only in reverse. See these two? Injected with Predacon CNA. Now I’m going to see what happens when a Predacon is injected with Cybertronian CNA,” Shockwave mused, and if he had a mouth Filch imagined he’d be smiling. Regardless, he took up a syringe filled with said CNA and pointed the tip at Filch. “Just sit back, relax, and let all the bad feelings fade away. Trust me. I’m a scientist.”

“Yeah… He did…” Filch whispered lowering her head in shame and disgust. A proud Predacon, laid low by some lowly Decepticon mad scientist who just wanted to experiment on her for kicks. Shockwave might not have been emotionless as they claimed, seemed to her he had quite the sadist side. 

Filch whimpered out in fear as the syringe injected the pure Cybernucleic Acid into her systems, and she felt new programming trying to take control. Her whimpers slowly turned into a loud scream as parts shifted and reconfigured the more beastial aspects of her chassis vanishing. Feathered wings sharpened and became more jet-like before fans revealed themselves with her body becoming less angular and streamlined, less like a regular Corvicon and more like a jet’s.

“Now then.” Shockwave took the needle out once it had done its’ job and set it down on the table. “Let’s give you a chance to break in this new directive, shall we?”

“Violated me, turned my body inside out. Mutated it into… this.” she whispered in shame, gesturing to her body. “Sure, gained a few advantages such as a new alt-mode but I lost my pride as a Predacon in the process. Both me and Steeljaw. While he’s never been a Predacon, Shockwave thought it’d be funny I suppose -fine time for him to finally show some sense of emotion I think- to inject him and another Cybertronian with Predacon CNA.”

Airazor sucked in a breath, and brought the surprised Predacon in for a hug before releasing it.

“I… see,” Airazor sighed to herself. “That explains so much.”

“Every day,” Steeljaw muttered to himself, clenching his fist and making it crackle with yellow energy. “Every damn day I think about that Decepticon, and think about what it’d be like to crush his head casing and watch that life leave that optic of his…”

He quickly regained his composure and took a few deep breaths upon realizing what he was saying, and what part of him was coming to the surface.

“I… I apologize, being injected with Predacon CNA, it brought both me and Gekisoumaru’s more violent instincts to the forefront. We’ve learned to curb them with the help of an Autobot named Drift, but every so often I… I can’t control myself and just want to go on a rampage and rip and tear something to shreds. Even now, I’m fighting back the instinct to just ‘hulk out’ as the humans say and destroy something. Or someone.”

It was clear he was desperately trying to hold himself back, his limbs were twitchy and his tail flicked back and forth, and every so often his eyes darted around. Any nearby wildlife including panthers, it quickly scampered off into the undergrowth in fear of the much larger predator.

“What happened to Shockwave?” Airazor asked. “Did you ever…?” she trailed off, not sure if she really wanted to know.

“No, never got the chance to alas,” Steeljaw said, taking a few deep breaths. “After Shockwave tried to create this Predacon combiner, even Megatron saw him mad and actually teamed up with the Autobots to take him out. He said, and I’ll never forget his words: “I do this only for my fellow Decepticons. It grieves me that you may also profit.” Probably lying through his teeth, master of that but it stunned us all when Megatron turned on one of his right-hand men.” Steeljaw stated, and punched a tree in frustration before the tempest was somewhat calmed as Filch rubbed his shoulders.

“It’s nice to see such loyalty amongst you two, such a rare thing amongst Predacons really. Or Decepticons, or whatever you two are.”

“We’re neither,” Filch stated. “We’re just looking out for ourselves, and that’s the end of that.”

“I don’t entirely believe that really,” Airazor remarked. “After all, if you were looking out for yourself, why would you come all the way here on Thunderclash’s own recommendations no less to find me?”

“We just need a bodyguard, help protect us from Onslaught and his men. That’s it really,” Steeljaw replied. Even he didn’t believe his own words really however, they sounded rather weak even as they left his mouth.

“Heh,” Airazor chuckled. “Yeah, and Primus will appear in his earthly form to bless the Fallen for being a saint. You’re not just looking for a bodyguard, are you? You need an army to fight Onslaught, or you’re protecting your fellow kind. Not sure which yet, although if you need an army go to the Autobots. They’d kindly welcome you two with open arms, they do adore taking in strays and anyone who’ll join their cause. That idiot Repugnus is evidence alone of that little aspect of their occasional bouts of stupidity.”

“Don’t mince words, do you?” Steeljaw remarked, both he and Filch sharing a wince.

“Hey, I just like to tell it how it is at times, life’s done me no favors. I’m a Predacon, part of our lot in life. Primus hates us, or at least the Primes that follow his doctrine at times. Remember Nominus and Zeta, and Sentinel?” Airazor reminded them both. “Such lovely characters to carry the Matrix of Leadership. You know something? Death should be treated with dignity. We're supposed to respect one another's lives. But once we grow out of sparkling-hood, though we should know better all the same we still find ways to cause meaningless death and the shedding of energon. They did to Cybertron as well, devoured her resources to the brink and after all that was over?” Airazor whispered, sounding like she was about to cry herself. “Cybertronians just sought out new places to conquer, casting off those like ourselves that they thought reminders of our brutal past. I used to believe there was this inner god, called possibility, but now…? I’m not so sure of anything anymore. As I said, you’re better off going to the Autobots if you want help. I’m not the Predacon you need.”

Suddenly, Steeljaw flinched as his audio receptors heard something in the undergrowth, and he shoved Airazor out of the way as a teal blue and white blur darted past. If he hadn’t gotten her out of the way just in time, she would have been ripped to shreds by its claws. Steeljaw’s optics narrowed, the thing that attacked them was the tiger who’d been following him since he got here.

“You’re right,” the tiger said as it shifted forms to a bipedal state. “She’s not the Predacon anyone needs, she’s grown too weak. Too soft! She brings a stain upon our entire race.”

“Pounce…” Airazor hissed out as she transformed into her massive beast mode, flaring her wings. “And I’m willing to bet your twin isn’t far behind. He never is.”

“Right you are on that!” Wingspan’s cackling voice remarked as the Predacon landed himself atop a nearby temple ruin. “Nice to see you again, isn’t it?”

“Wish I could say the same for you…” Airazor commented.

“Well, you’re certainly foolish ones,” Steeljaw remarked. “Three on one. Never particularly liked those odds. Bit lopsided for you, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, we’ve got friends on the way. That collar of yours,” Wingspan remarked as he transformed and landed next to his brother, looking almost exactly alike Pounce except for a few minor differences here and there. “More than just a fancy fashion accessory. It also serves as a tracking device. See, me and my brother here?” he continued, slinging an arm around Pounce. “We cut a deal with your old boss. Let his boys take you and your new friend out, in exchange for joining the newfound gap in their ranks!”

“So, a cheap shot at me is what you’re really asking for isn’t it?” Airazor snarked as she watched Pounce and Wingspan resume their beast modes. She let out a challenging shriek to Wingspan, who returned it. “Pathetic, I thought you two were above such a thing. ...But then again, you always did flock to the newest guy on the block with all the power. So perhaps I really shouldn’t be that surprised at all. Do you want to see who really rules the skies? Fine, I’ll take you up on that offer, but warning you right now… This lady, she stoops to conquer.” Airazor stated firmly, in a warning tone before both she and Wingspan shot upwards like rockets into the air as a storm broke loose, lightning flashing and rain pouring down.

“And guess that just leaves us,” Steeljaw smirked as he bared his fangs at Pounce even as Filch changed into her bird form, the grass beneath her blowing in the wind created by her twin fans. “You really picked a bad time today to mess with me, cause I’ve been wanting to rip something up. I think you’ll do nicely.”

With a loud roar, he charged into battle claws and fangs bared with Filch right behind him. Pounce smirked, and lived up to his nickname and actually tackled Steeljaw to the ground with a loud thud and a mighty Ka-Clang! as metal met metal before he leaped off of Steeljaw and grabbed Filch by the wing in his jaws. The Corvicon let out a shriek of pain, and because of her current position was unable to actually transform into her jet mode. However, didn’t mean she was helpless in any regard, as she launched her talons at Pounce, and began ripping his chest open as energon spattered her chassis.

Backing off as he roared out in pain, Pounce swore profusely at Filch in ancient Cybertronian.

“Yeah yeah… Blow it out your aft!” Filch shot back, and changed into bot mode before punching Pounce in the face with a solid right hook just as Steeljaw recovered.

“As they say… “Cry 'Havoc!', and let slip the dogs of war!” Steeljaw snarled and transformed with a shifting and whirring of parts into his vehicle mode, engine revving up and kicking up dirt and mud as his tires dug into the ground before finally finding their grip. Giving chase to Pounce through the thick undergrowth, if Steeljaw would have smirked he would have.

“So, little kitty’s decided to turn chicken on me!” he laughed, letting his beastial instincts take over for a brief second longer as he smashed through a ruined wall and then drove up a slight hillside before flipping over in midair his wheels facing the sky where high above the tree canopy, Filch followed and awaited her chance for an opening.

Parts shifting once more as he practically did a barrel roll above Pounce, Steeljaw resumed his robot mode and landed on his back ‘paws’ if you will and struck Pounce across the face only to be surprised when Pounce fired a blast of searing hot plasma from within his jaws. Steeljaw realized just then in that instance what Pounce and Wingspan’s plan was, it was to separate the two of them from Airazor and take care of the more dangerous threats first. And it seemed Pounce was well-suited for that task indeed. He was a turbofox in cat’s clothing really.

“You gotta be-” Steeljaw shouted in shock before Filch swooped down in her bird mode and grabbed him with her talons just in time to keep him from getting charbroiled.

“What would you ever do without me?” Filch teased, her voice taking on a sassy tone for a moment as she set her friend down in a safer spot. Soon afterwards, Pounce leaped out of the jungle and transformed into robot mode in a corkscrew manner brandishing what looked to be a purple scimitar of energy which crackled into life as soon as he pulled the hilt off his hip holsters.

“Well, someone’s overcompensating.” Filch teased as she dodged the sword swings with relative ease, before bringing out a small pistol, and shooting Pounce in the shoulder nicking him and drawing yet more energon. He let out a small growl of anger, and pulled out another scimitar and swung wildly with it nearly cleaving Filch’s head clean from her shoulders.

She let out a yelp, and backflipped a few feet, landing in a small river behind her with a small thud.

“You do know what cats do to birds, right?” Pounce sneered, his blades crackling with energy, before a part on Filch’s arm opened up, and fired a grappling cable at her opponent and pulled one of the swords from his hands.

“Evidently I didn’t get the memo,” she snarked back. “And evidently, I don’t care.”

Blades clashed, and sparks flew before Steeljaw grabbed his partner and tossed her towards Pounce and she aimed a flying kick right at his faceplaces. In the nick of time, and to avoid his head being caved in by his fellow Predacon, he shifted forms once more and ran towards Steeljaw even as Filch rebounded off a tree.

Pounce swiped a powerful claw at Steeljaw’s face, drawing energon before the Predacon spun around and kicked Steeljaw in the chest almost like a horse would before he transformed back into robot mode and impaled Steeljaw to a tree just barely missing his spark.

“Now the odds are a bit fairer, don’t you think?” Pounce smirked. “...All the dirty jobs.” he then grumbled to himself, wondering if his twin was having any better luck dealing with their eternal rival. 

He then let out a sharp yell of shock as Filch transformed back into bird mode and used her talons to slam him into a tree, which cracked under the pressure and Pounce was sent flying backwards, the blade slipping from his grasp. It went flying, before impaling itself in a tree. Pounce picked himself up off the ground and managed to punch Filch in the beak and even as she reverted to robot mode, twin parts on Pounce’s legs opened up and two bladed wheels flew into his hands. Fire and Wind wheels, if Filch remembered correctly. Traditional Asian martial arts weapons, which made sense she supposed given where she was. Chakrams probably would have been less surprising, but evidently, Pounce was one of those cultured types. Well, as cultured as a Predacon could get anyways.

“Filch, be careful!” Steeljaw shouted as he tried to pry the blade out of his body and free himself. Sadly, for the time being, there was no such luck.

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Filch shouted back in return as she leaped backwards to avoid a strike from Pounce’s weapons. “Playing hard to get?”

A loud shriek cut through the air just then as Wingspan flew right by the two, Airazor in hot pursuit firing lasers at him, the two cutting through the forest with their sharp wings. In this brief moment of confusion, Pounce had lost sight of Filch and his eye darted from left to right, but then he was soundly drop-kicked in the face by Filch who’d come from above. His weapons went flying from his hands and into Filch’s own.

“And I thought you were the one supposed to be doing all the pouncing around here…” Filch teased, before her optics widened in shock as Pounce pulled out two more weapons from his back, twin hook swords. “Just how many fucking weapons does this guy even have?” she thought to herself as she blocked the blade strikes with her newly borrowed weapons, just barely managing to hold back the infuriated Predacon.

Meanwhile, high in the sky above both Airazor and Wingspan were still at it, sharp feathered wings and talons like razors just barely missing each other again and again.

“You know, I normally have a soft spot for cats,” Airazor commented as she observed the battle taking below her. “But your brother, well I have to say I gotta make an exception!”

The battle eventually progressed over a small lake, the two swooping down low and leaving behind powerful wakes with their wings. Airazor flew high, and a crack of lightning blinded Wingspan, keeping him from seeing what happened next as Airazor spun like a drill towards him. He just barely managed to avoid the attack and dived beneath the water before transforming and grabbing into Airazor before vibrating his hands. There was something special about Wingspan actually. Aside from being a clone, he was also one of those rare Point One Percenters, which meant his spark had actually mutated and granted him special abilities. In his case, it was literally to vibrate a Cybertronian apart.

Airazor knew of this, of course, and in a flash rapidly transformed back into robot mode and kicked Wingspan in the gearbox, before she bared her talons and pulled him apart wires, gears, and energon floating everywhere away from the now partially bisected Predacon.

Now, there was something you needed to know about Transformers who happened to be twins. Transformers that were twins had a rather special relationship with each other. The two were always intimately linked in such a way that they considered the other to be their other half. And when one of the two twins died, the other would feel the passing of his spark. And it was no different for Pounce, who let out a loud scream of pain as he felt Wingspan get ripped to shreds. In some ways, this was no different than a Conjunx Endura bond but much worse as both would feel what the other would feel.

“She… She killed him!” Pounce roared out in rage, charging directly at Filch his blades bared. “She killed my brother!”

“And you’re soon to follow. You’re both madmen, and the world would be better off without you, I think!” Steeljaw roared, as he finally pried the blade out of his body and ignoring the pain clocked Pounce in the face sending him spiraling to the ground. It was then he heard the sound of camera shutters going off, and he then remembered exactly where he was. On the outskirts of a small village, with all the locals coming out to gawk at the scene. His optics widened as he saw what was on the local news, and he didn’t need to read the text at the bottom of the screen to understand what Stinger and Prowl clashing meant. He read it anyways.

“ඇමරිකාවේ හූවර් වේල්ලේ යෝධ රොබෝ සටන!” it read.

“Hūvar vēllē dævænta robō hǣrīmak!” the newscaster stated in the local language of Sinhala.

“Aw slaggit… Guess the secret’s out,” Steeljaw muttered before being blindsided by a now furious beyond measure Pounce who nearly cleaved off one of his arms with his blades. “Right, forgot about you.” he grumbled, before slamming a fist into Pounce’s body dispatching the second of the two twins.

“...Well, guess that’s that.” Filch commented, as the locals gasped in awe at the two and the gasps and whispers only increased when Airazor landed and transformed into robot mode.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish I say,” she huffed. “Going to have to apologize to the natives for dispatching two of their holy Rakshasa and I doubt this will improve my standing in their eyes as a Devil Bird but…” she sighed sadly before Filch put a supportive hand on her shoulder.

“It had to be done, they would have turned on the humans eventually. They just wanted to rip and tear. With them, it was going to come down to kill or be killed, you know that…”

“Yeah, I know,” Airazor muttered looking away in shame. “Still, my species count drops even lower now…”

Her optics then turned to the sky as her audio sensors picked up something. Steeljaw’s and Filch’s were soon to follow.

“Wait, what’s that?” Steeljaw murmured to herself before the sound of a jet engine could be heard as a red fighter jet flew over the village guns trained solely on the three renegades.

Soon to follow erupting from the undergrowth were four other Decepticons. Two were mostly blue trucks, the third a Ferrari 458 Italia with gold pinstriping and the fourth and final was this massive tank.

Parts shifted and moved as all five Decepticons transformed into robot mode and trained their guns on both the humans and the renegades.

“Should we slag the humans?” Dead End asked. “Not that it matters in the long run, because we’re all going to go to that great rust heap in the sky sometime soon but let’s face it… I’m bored as all hell,” he grumbled out. Steeljaw swore to himself, he knew what had happened, he knew how they’d been found. And it wasn’t because of some damn tracking collars. His optics narrowed, looking at the traitor dead in the eyes.

The jet transformer gave Dead End a pointed look before answering. “No, leave them. They’re not part of this.”

Meanwhile, Steeljaw looked at Breakdown his optics glistening in betrayal. Breakdown couldn’t meet his face, even as he pulled the trigger on his pulse rifle…

BLAM!
> Part 27: Eyes Wide Open
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Yes, science is my god in a sense. I'm comfortable with the unknown, that's the point of science. There are places out there, billions of places out there that we know nothing about. And the fact that we know nothing about them excites me, and I want to go out and find out about them. And that's what science is. So I think if you're not comfortable with the unknown, then it's difficult to be a scientist. So I don't need an answer; I don't need answers to everything. I want to have answers to find.” - Brian Cox, March 2010.

So, fast forward a week or two and the whole world knew about the Transformers. Speculations ran rampant as to why they were here, if they meant harm to all of humankind or if it was simply some of them. Agent Fowler, Captain Spitfire and Special Agent Chrysalis had all been reassigned to desk jobs in light of their failures to keep the world in the dark about the truth about the Transformers rendering them currently useless as Autobot allies for the time being.

“Science is unreasonably effective, it's generated knowledge beyond all expectation. It's also delivered perspective. Yes, we are an insignificant speck in an infinite universe, but we're also rare. And because we're rare, we're valuable. So what are we to do to secure our future? Well, we must learn to value the acquisition of knowledge for its own sake, and not just because it grows our economy or allows us to build better bombs,” a English accent, belonging to one Professor Brian Cox stated on TV on some old re-run of one of his science programs. “We must also learn to value the human race and take responsibility for our own survival. Why? Because there's nobody else out there to value us or to look after us. And finally, most important of all, we must educate the next generation in the great discoveries of science and we must teach them to use the light of reason to banish the darkness of superstition, because if we do that, then at least there's a chance that this universe will remain a human one.”

Sunny yawned and flipped over to another channel out of pure boredom and sighed to herself. Ever since the Autobots and Decepticons were revealed to the world at large, her mother had won a court battle saying Fowler was an insufficient guardian which meant that yes, Sunny Flare was back with Abigail Cinch once more. They had a stated agreement, which basically said Cinch had to have some involvement in Sunny’s schoolwork and Sunny was allowed to do some of the things she liked and spent time with her friends.

Right now though, she was currently neck deep in school reports and had only been allowed to take one little break just to unwind. Even Cinch understood that her daughter wasn’t any sort of machine. ...Which surprised Sunny really, maybe that save by Knock Out had changed her. Somewhat. Not completely, but maybe her mother was moving away from being a complete bitch.

Sunny eventually found a talk show and sighed. “500 channels and there’s still nothing good on…”

She grumbled something to herself and settled down to watch. Her eyes widened at the topic. It was on the Transformers, on if they were a threat to society at large or not.

“Look, I’m not saying that these guys are going to just enslave us or anything, I mean it’s not Terminator Rise of the Machines or anything like that,” one William Lennox commented. “I’m just saying, we gotta be careful nowadays. I mean, these guys are still an unknown aren’t they?”

“So, what do you think, in general about these beings from another world?” the host, one Vignette Valencia asked him. “Personally speaking, I share your right to be wary. I mean, they’re new here and we were first introduced to them properly when they attacked the Hoover Dam. Shouldn’t that be a cause for concern?”

Sunny sighed, somehow her and her friends' involvement in the whole affair up till now had been managed to have been kept under wraps, maybe by one last effort from Chrysalis or Fowler. Who was to say? She was just thankful for that, if her mom got wind of it then she’d never hear the end of things.

“Listen, I’m still not sure about all of this. I’m really not,” Lennox said. “But let me just go on the record to say that maybe not all of them are bad, you know? I mean, I owe my life to a few of them. Hell, one gave up their life for me so that speaks volumes really. So just for right now, I’m willing to extend that hand of trust.”

“It seems to be war doesn’t it?” Vignette asked. “I mean, soldiers die in war. No disrespect to the dead intended, but how do you know they were fighting for you? I mean, the news choppers captured plenty of destruction at that dam. They could have just been fighting, not caring who got caught up in the crossfire!’

“Look, I know what I saw,” Lennox responded. “I saw a soldier, dying and yet in his final breaths trying to save whoever he can. Maybe they’re not all as bad as those who attacked the dam. Like I said, I’m holding out that little hope that maybe, just maybe those beings from beyond the stars -Some, if not all- are here to lend a helping hand,”

“You talk as if they’re like us, like they’re… human,” Vignette replied. “What makes you so sure?”

“You share the trenches with someone, if you will, and you get to know them. Now, while I didn’t know these guys for long before I got pulled out I can tell you this. They’re very much like us. They bleed, they have emotions. Isn’t that enough to think of them as something close to human?” Lennox asked.

“You think these mysterious incidents all over the world have something to do with these Transformers as the public calls them? I mean, not too long ago the Temple of Apollo was attacked in Greece. Think something went down there that we meaning us as the public aren’t aware of?” Vignette inquired.

“This is starting to sound less like a talk show and more like an interrogation Ms. Valencia,” Lennox responded in a rather annoyed tone of voice.

“It’s not, trust me,” Vignette laughed. “These were just questions submitted by the viewers. I mean, the public wants to know! They’re hungry for information! Chomping at the bit really!”

“Yes, well you can tell your viewing public I’m done answering questions,” Lennox growled. “You can get your viewing figures elsewhere, interview some other sap,” the man said as he got up out of his chair and walked off-camera in disgust. “I’m done.”

“Well, there you have it folks!” Vignette Valencia chimed cheerfully, despite the colossal failure of her interview. “One William Lennox’s take on the whole Transformers debacle. I swear, getting that name trademarked. Seriously, I’m going to try. Now, seriously, love you all! Kisses!” she exclaimed, blowing kisses at the viewers. “Just keep sending in those questions, and I’ll keep finding those willing to talk in order to answer them. Tomorrow night, Soarin’ Skies of the United States Air Force reels in on his whole views on the matter.”

Sunny in disgust switched the TV off. Vignette Valencia was a hack, no other way of stating it. She probably only got her show because she spread her legs wide for some guy. Before she got her TV show, she was this social media hound who was always saying who got busted for some offense and who was currently relevant. 

Her talk show really hadn’t changed much from her early days, she was just now on the TV spouting her nonsense. The only reason her interviewees half the time got on the show -If what Juniper said was correct, and Sunny had no reason to doubt the girl given she knew a lot of famous people- was because they got paid well enough. 

Sunny chuckled to herself, she was starting to sound like Sour. The girl must have been rubbing off on her really. Groaning, she turned her attentions back to her paper, and sighed. Life had gotten so boring as of late really, with Prowl not wanting the girls around the base anymore in fear of them getting hurt or worse. 

“Took a few levels in jackass didn’t he?” a feminine voice said from behind Sunny as mechanical cat paws leaped up onto the couch. Sunny, a few seconds before had heard the sound of her mom’s old VCR transforming. “I mean before he was all too happy… Well, as happy as Prowl can get anyways to have you around. Now, he’s banning you from the base!”

“H-Howlback!” Sunny stammered out in a hushed whisper. “Mom’s going to kill you if she finds you here!”

“Oh well, can’t be any worse than being slagged by Onslaught. I’m a wanted fugitive now, least to Onslaught and his boys. Had to find someplace to lay low,” Howlback remarked.

“Why… Why did you blow your cover at Hoover Dam? I mean… why did you?” Sunny asked the Cybercat.

“I… I honestly don’t know really. Maybe it was for selfish reasons, me wanting to rip and tear. Either that, or it was because I still have some Autobot programming left in me that Onslaught didn’t completely corrupt. Freedom’s the right of all sentient beings and all that rot,” Howlback sighed.

“Speaking of your kind,” Sunny replied. “What’s with the attack on Hoover? Onslaught never seems to do anything random, so why order an attack on a national monument in broad daylight and blow everyone’s cover wide open? What, was he getting antsy about wanting to blow something or someone up?”

“No… I don’t think it’s that,” Howlback sighed. “Heard rumors that something’s been buried under there, kept locked up tight by the US government. Your brainboys have been trying to make heads or tails of it ever since it was found in the Arctic Circle by this Archibald Witwicky guy back in the 1890s or so. Not sure what the scrap it is, but… Whatever it is, had Onslaught all a-flutter with excitement -or was it worry- whenever he heard about it,” she continued to explain. “So, he ordered a few of his boys to steal whatever ‘it’ was before the Autobots got to it first. You saw how well that went I take it?” Howlback asked, raising an eyebrow with her cool blue optics looking directly at Sunny.

“Course I did,” Sunny replied. “Kinda hard to miss when it’s on the evening news.”

“Yeah…” Howlback yawned rolling over onto her back. “Sorry about that, blowing the cover of every Bot and Con on Earth wide open,”

“You had nothing to do with it. You didn’t order the attack,” Sunny replied.

“Might as well have, I hacked into secure servers and provided Onslaught the information,” Howlback stated sorrowfully. “So I’m the reason he even knew about it in the first place. I’m the reason why your friend Swordbreaker’s one with the Matrix now…” she whispered mournfully.

“What’s done is done,” Sunny told her sternly. “We can’t change the past, no matter how much we want to. All we can do now is hope for the best, and keep our present safe. So stop blaming yourself okay?”

Howlback smiled. “You know something kid, I may just be starting to like you. I can see why you were a good fit for the Autobots. Someday soon, I can see you doing something great, you know that right?”

“Yeah, but first… Well, I gotta ace this science test,” Sunny sighed after giving Howlback a brief smile.

“Well, guess that’s what I’m here for,” Howlback replied. “I’m staying here, so gotta pay my rent somehow right? So, let’s see what I can do eh?”







Decepticon Base:

“Man, can’t believe we’re still on this rock,” Dropkick grumbled, his rotors hanging limply on his back. A sign of his assault helicopter based alt-mode. Well, one of them anyways, with the other being this Ford Ute. “I thought for sure we’d have found what we’re looking for by now! I’m seriously convinced Onslaught doesn’t know what he’s even doing anymore!”

“Hey, if the boss has a plan, he’s got a plan. Have a little more faith in him why don’t you?” Swindle asked fully repaired from his battle at Hoover Dam. It was sorta touch and go for a while, with some of the Cons wondering if the conman would have to get a major reformatting. However, despite huge energon loss Swindle had managed to pull through. “Personally, I can’t believe Howlback turned out to be working for Cybertron’s government the whole slaggin’ time! None of us the wiser!” he complained.

“Well, she played a very good Decepticon,” Dropkick admitted.

“To you maybe, but you’re as dumb as a bag of rocks!” Swindle snapped back with Dropkick looking rather offended by this. “Me, I should have seen it coming!” he continued on ignoring Dropkick’s outraged shout.

“Personally,” Dropkick replied after collecting himself somewhat. “What we all should have seen coming was Filch and Steeljaw breaking away from us and trying to form their own third faction in the Predacons on Earth. Meet up with their fellow beasts and all that. Such idiocy…” he muttered.

“Ha!” Swindle agreed. “What, did they not think we’d track them down eventually? All they ended up doing is leading us right to another member of their kind!”

“Think she can be turned?” Dropkick asked him.

“What, willingly?” Swindle replied, before laughing heartily. “No! Not a chance. We’ll probably just put the same bomb collar on her like we did with Filch and Steeljaw and the dearly departed Darksteel. Whether she’ll comply then is still up in the air as I’m not entirely sure she’s afraid of death but I guess we’ll have to see eh?”

“Speaking of Predacons…” Dropkick trailed off pressing his fingers together nervously. “What… What about that other one?”

Swindle looked confused for a few moments before his optics widened in realization. “Ah yes, him. The one Brawl says it’s in our best interest to terminate. Haven’t met him personally, at least while he’s conscious so I’m not so sure what he’s so scared about but Onslaught has taken… measures to keep him under control.”

“Measures?” Dropkick replied. “Okay, now color me curious. If Brawl wants something terminated without even a second thought, then we all should be-”

“What, worried?” Swindle laughed. “Brawl’s a brute. His next thought generally consists of what to shoot next! Anyways, if you’re so worried I’ll tell you what happened as soon as we brought Sinnertwin as he’s apparently called onto the base.”

Onslaught and Swindle observed the massive yellow Predacon as he was floated in on a platform usually reserved for moving energon cubes. In one of his hands, Onslaught held a surgical knife comprised of pure energon.

“Well, isn’t he a big one?” Flamewar observed, casually leaning up against a crate her bow on her back. “And his propensity for violence. Well, girl’s gotta admire that!’

“Bit too much violence if you ask me,” Brawl muttered. “Damn beast nearly slaughtered me and Breakdown as it is. To say nothing of our Vehicon troops!”

“Aww…” Flamewar cooed. “Is the big bad Brawl scared of one dumb beast?”

Brawl let out a growl and looked ready to throw a punch at the more limber Decepticon before Onslaught held up a hand to stop and shot them both a warning look.

“Every beast can be controlled,” Onslaught stated. “A beast's weakness, properly manipulated, can be a sharp tool. And believe me, that thing has one. Everyone does. Now I believe it’s time for my surgical strike.”

With that, he walked over to the unconscious Sinnertwin and stabbed downwards with his knife. When the Predacon was to eventually awake, he groaned out in pain before letting out a roar as he found himself shackled to the wall, with Onslaught watching him.

“Well, so the beast finally awakens from his slumber,” Onslaught chuckled. “And here I thought you were going to stay asleep for the rest of your life.”

“Let me go…”

“Oh, I will, in time,” Onslaught replied. “Just so long as you understand the rules of what’s going to happen here. You’re a Decepticon now,” he said gesturing to the new badge on Sinnertwin’s right shoulder. You shall be an honored member… so long as you never forget one important fact about your new life: It's mine.”

“My life shall never be yours!” Sinnertwin snarled and Onslaught chuckled.

“That’s all a matter of perspective. See, you’re still free to do as you choose. Rip and tear, within reason of course, but remember this…” Onslaught said bringing out a small box lined with energon crystals with a spark in the middle of them. He pressed down on the box, making Sinnertwin scream out in pain as the Predacon realized which spark exactly was in that box. “You belong to me now.”

Swindle shuddered in remembrance. His commander, while a good tactician was extremely ruthless and without mercy of any sort when it came down to it. It made it all too easy for Megatron to turn him into a Decepticon playing on his pride. There was a reason back on Cybertron whenever anyone heard the Combaticons were coming, they were more than likely to surrender outright then put up any sort of fight. Mind you, there were those that resisted, but in the end they were overwhelmed with sheer might.

“Great, so now Sinnertwin has a reason to hate us even more,” Dropkick muttered. “Anyone else see the flaw in this logic?” he asked turning towards Swindle and then to a few vehicons who were watching this whole exchange with barely disguised boredom. “No? Nobody? Fine, ignore the guy who thinks we should just shoot the bastard before he turns on us all!”

“Dropkick, with me!” a female voice called and he looked to see his partner, a slightly taller crimson colored femme-bot gesturing to him. “Just got orders from up top, Onslaught has a new mission for us!”

“Ugh…” Dropkick muttered, the former Autobot sighing. Mission this, mission that. He needed a break. First, it was him and Shatter recapturing the renegades in Filch and Steeljaw. Now it was something else.

“Heh,” Swindle chuckled. “Seems your sparkmate has you on a leash like a little puppy!”

“She’s not my…” Dropkick muttered before groaning. “Ugh, never mind.”

“Dropkick, are your servos locked up or are you coming?” Shatter questioned, her expression hardening. “Onslaught got to thinkin-”

“Oh, oh. Thinking. That’s always good,” Dropkick muttered. “Usually means someone like me’s going to get placed in the lines of fire. Can’t he ever get off his butt and do something himself for once?”

Shatter rolled her eyes. “Continuing on. As I was saying, Onslaught got to thinking that if the Autobots have partners in the humans, why shouldn’t we? Seems to be working out for them so far,”

“Personally, I think he’s lost his mind. Humans, they just go squish. Too easily broken. If he wants a partner, why not just go ask for a Mini-Con?” Dropkick remarked.

“It’s not a matter of their durability,” Shatter countered, crossing her arms. “Think for a second, Dropkick; the Autobots constantly pull victories from the jaws of defeat on this planet. Clearly, they’re doing something different from us.”

“Yeah, gathering all our best troops. Told you from the start that it was a bad idea to use criminals and thugs for half of our forces, and I told you again when Knock Out defected back to the Autobots. But look what happened! Hey, just ignore me!” Dropkick grumbled and if the irony of him being a war criminal had occurred to him he decided not to voice it. “Should have just grabbed as many unhappy former Decepticons as we could have and made a run for it. Less loose ends to worry about!”

“Oh, I’m staying out of this…” Swindle remarked as he walked off throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. “You two lovebirds have to settle this on your own! Peace!”

With that, the tan Decepticon took his leave.

“You don’t think we tried getting former Decepticons?” Shatter scoffed. “Not everyone is a yo-yo of a Con like Starscream. Poaching wanted criminals was so much easier.”

“So basically you’re saying Onslaught’s lazy,” Dropkick remarked. “Fine, what’s the plan? We grovel before the humans saying we’re all about love and peace? Yeah, after Acid Storm’s little make it rain incident I doubt they’ll readily believe that. Primus, our faction name is ‘Decepticons’! That might strike a chord, just sayin’.”

Shatter actually managed a smile, patting Dropkick’s head in a condescending way. “Oh you silly bot, true Decepticons don’t grovel. We have a plan to sway the humans.” She leaned in, whispering the details to him.
`
“Oh, that is good…” he smirked. “Still, that leaves a few loose ends. The Autobots human allies in the government. What if they raise their objections? They could blow our whole plan wide open!”

“It’s not our job to worry about them. Acid Storm is already en route to deal with that particular issue,” Shatter waved off, her smile not faltering. “Now, are you done arguing?” she asked as a groundbridge opened up behind them. Dropkick sighed before transforming into his vehicle mode and driving through it, with Shatter soon to follow as a muscle car of some sort.

In Texas, at the Lackland Air Force Base the soldiers stationed there were treated to a rather unusual sight upon seeing a blue ute type vehicle and a red muscle car entering their base without any sort of clearance.

“Sir!” one of the soldiers said as he ran into General Bryce’s office. “We’ve got two unidentified signals entering the grounds.”

“Well, suppose I’d best go greet our new guests,” Bryce replied after taking a sip of his coffee. “First Contact, never was in my job description…” 

He, along with a ton of other soldiers loaded down with weapons were treated to the sight of the two vehicles forms’ massively shifting and changing till both Dropkick and Shatter stood above them. Shatter opted for kneeling down to their level and gestured for Dropkick to follow.

“W-Wait, what are you doing?” Dropkick muttered under his breath before he sighed as Shatter shot him a look. “Ugh, fine… Can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s so embarrassing…” he muttered as he followed Shatter’s lead.

“People of Earth, we are Decepticon peacekeepers,” Shatter began. “We would be honored to have a moment of your time and speak.”

“So speak. You’ve got five minutes,” Bryce said as he held up a stopwatch.

“Thank you,” Shatter replied, bowing her head. “We Decepticons would like to form a treaty with Earth. The exact terms can be decided upon later, but a free exchange of ideas and technology is the end goal.”

“There’s a but coming. In all my years as a member of the military,” Bryce responded. “There’s never been something quite so easy as what you propose. Nothing’s given away for free.”

“Well, you’re a smart one. Cybertron is dead,” Shatter told him lying through her teeth. “We would like rights to some land and the means to produce energy for ourselves. All we ask is you helping to keep those Autobot criminals who’ve come to steal Earth away from us off our backs and in return we will protect you. Is that negotiable?” 

“I believe it is yes. What’s your name Madam?” Bryce asked not entirely trusting this one given she herself said she was a Decepticon but if she was willing to give answers as to what was going on he was willing to listen.

“Shatter,” she answered holding back a smirk. “And yours, sir?”

“Before I give my name away, I must ask about your title.”

“Oh, yes. I apologize if that scares you,” Shatter replied. “It’s just a simple craven Autobot scare tactic. The name was meant to demonize us. Instead, we wear it as a badge of honor, for if speaking the truth is deception, then we are gladly guilty.”

“Well then Ms. Shatter, you can call me General Bryce. Now, I believe we have some terms to discuss…?”







The Autobase:

“Bit quiet around here isn’t it?” Knock Out asked Prowl as the two took a stroll through the base. “Miss the little pitter patter of human feet,”

“The humans have their own lives,” Prowl answered, his expression neutral. “It would be rather cruel to hold them here in the base indefinitely.”

“We never were holding them, they were always free to do as they wished,” Knock Out replied. “Sure, you maybe held me and not without good reason but the humans? Never! This is in no way related to the recent loss of Swordbreaker is it?” he inquired cautiously.

“I apologize for my poor phrasing. In other news, Pyra Magna is on the road to recovery. She may be able to resume her duties within a few cycles.” Prowl replied.

“Well, that’s wondrous and all, but you still haven’t answered my question. Don’t forget, before I got involved in this whole mess I was a doctor. You’re deflecting,” Knock Out told him. “Swordbreaker’s loss. It got to you, didn’t it?”

“Of course not,” Prowl answered, though he had clearly hesitated. “In conflicts like ours, losses are inevitable. Sometimes bots die. Simple as that. There is nothing to be gained from dwelling on these things,”

“This is the second loss to your crew you’ve suffered since you’ve landed on Earth,” Knock Out replied. “Hound was the first, and now you just lost Swordbreaker under your command. It’s getting to you, isn’t it?”

“I have already told you my feelings on the matter. I must ask that you do not inquire further.”

“Oh fine!” Knock Out exclaimed in exasperation throwing his hands up in the air. “Hide behind your logic, be robo-Spock if you must!” he continued as Prowl walked off. “But remember, closing yourself off from all of this, in the long run,  it isn’t healthy!”

Knock Out then punched a wall in frustration cracking it.

“Primus above…” he muttered before he felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t blame Prowl,” Road Rage told him. “It was bound to happen eventually. I’ve heard stories about this. He’s always locked himself behind logic and all of that whenever he’s trying to cope with a loss. Exiling the humans from the base? He’s just trying to prevent more death if he can, that’s all,” she explained.

“Better we protect them then let them get killed by angry Decepticons,” Knock Out mumbled to himself.

“Who’s to say we aren’t? We protect them from the shadows,” Road Rage told him. “In time, Prowl will come around. He’ll realize what an idiot he’s being and apologize. You just need to give him time. Everyone copes with it in different ways. Gimu, that’s what the Japanese call it. Obligation, in short.”

“Pressures of leadership huh?” Knock Out sighed. “That which is the burden hardest to bear.”

“We’ve had worse times, remember?” Road Rage joked lightly although Knock Out didn’t look amused.

“Yeah, when do they get better? That's what I wanna know…” he sighed in return.

“Prowl’s just feeling boxed in, like the weight of the whole world’s on his shoulders,” Road Rage continued patting her friend on the back. “The same thing happened to Optimus Prime when the Matrix was passed to him. Optimus learned to live with his gimu and accept it. Now, while Prowl may not be any Matrix-Bearer, he’ll have to learn how to accept his duties and work with them. There’s not much really we can do to help, this is something he’s got to resolve for himself,”

“Don’t like it, not one bit but I understand,” Knock Out replied before continuing on. “Gimu huh? Nice name for it. In the meantime, I suppose we’ve all got our other duties to worry about. Not just protecting the humans but trying to figure just how a certain you know what ended up smack-dab on Earth and if it’s only the tip of the iceberg,” he said as the two entered Perceptor’s lab. 

In the middle of the room, hovering in a tube of energy was this massive adorned sword with a sharp blue blade. The legendary Star Saber, said to have been forged by Solus Prime herself as a gift for her sparkmate, the now infamous Megatronus better known nowadays as the Fallen. When he fell, Solus used her Forge to smash it into five pieces with Nexus Prime hiding them away. As legend had it, Alpha Trion would later recover the pieces sometime before War Dawn and return them to the Cybertronian archives. Whether any of this was actually true or not was questionable at best but apparently, the Saber itself was real.

How it ended up on Earth was another question, although Perceptor suspected it like many other Cybertronian artifacts were sent off-world as soon as the threat of Iacon being overrun became very real.

In any case, this was what had been hidden in the Hoover Dam by the US Government and somehow the Decepticons had gotten wind of it and staged a full-scale assault in the hopes of recovering it.

“And now it’s our job to unlock its secrets and keep as it far away from the Decepticons as possible,” Knock Out muttered. “Lovely. We seem to get all the difficult jobs don’t we?”

“And it’s a task that should be made much easier now that I’m around,” a female voice said as the massive form of Pyra Magna walked into the room. “But first, tell me what’s become of my crew and my ship.”
> Part 28: Hunted Part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nebraska:

“Calling all Autobots, calling all Autobots. We are being hunted. The humans… they’ve turned on us. Hide yourselves, and protect the humans. The mission has not changed. But do not be reckless. Do not take any unnecessary risks. Until we know more about what has changed, we’re all targets now.”

That was the message Outback received upon a scouting mission for Con activity way out here in the farmlands of Nebraska. The odd thing was, the location the signal was coming from, a massive energon surge indicated that they were here, but Outback then questioned why would the ‘Cons concern themselves with miles and miles of… well, nothingness really? That’s what sent his mind into overdrive screaming out alarm bells and that’s when he received the message from Prowl.

And that’s when he heard the roar of engines. A squad of human military vehicles, all emblazoned with this black skull on the side and led oddly enough by this red muscle car.

“Oh Slag… I hate it when they get smart on us…” Outback muttered before burning rubber and taking off down a cornfield. His thoughts ran wild, what had changed? And last he checked human military did not use old muscle cars even albeit heavily customized ones as vehicles in their brigades.

Ripping up the field as the red muscle car broke off from the pack and pursued him along a dirt trail that ran alongside the cornfield, Outback tried to lose his pursuers. The human in charge, this older guy wearing sunglasses and sporting a silver buzz cut rode in the muscle car’s passenger seat, an attractive blond-haired woman -at least by human standards- wearing sunglasses at the wheel.

The older human went for his radio, and barked into it: “D-13. You know what to do. Make it rain.”

Suddenly, Outback heard the whirling of rotors from somewhere up above, the vehicle in question being hidden by the glare of the sun before Outback suddenly found himself dodging and weaving as missiles lit up the cornfield in blasts of fire.

“Hey, you’ve never heard of warning shots?” Outback shouted before his comms lit up and a voice responded.

“Those were warning shots, Autobot Trash.”

That voice… It sounded vaguely familiar to Outback, although he couldn’t quite place where exactly he’d heard it before. Suddenly, he found himself sideswiped by the same muscle car from before even as machine gun fire riddled his chassis. 

“Oi, get some driving lessons why don’t you?” Outback’s holo avatar -a burly looking man with a beard- yelled out at the human soldier as he managed to maneuver himself into some woodlands, kicking up dust and dirt in his wake.

His wheels pounded against the twigs, leaves, and rocks as he made a ran. The sounds of gunfire running past his head was all he could hear, and he tried his hardest not to look back. He looked back only for a split second, and looked back ahead as a dash of bullets ran past him. He jumped to the right using a boulder as a ramp, pushing through several trees and chopping off branches in the process.

"Don’t let him escape!" One of the soldiers cried. “You do so, and the boss will have our heads!”

Outback bounced up and down on a bumpy road as he made the turn, swerving into it. When he made it through the turn, the military cars behind him swerved as well, but winded up crashing into a few trees and even into each other. But not too far behind was the same muscle car from before speeding right behind him.

“Who are you?”

Outback’s eyes widened when no response was given and instead, the motor on top of the cars hood transformed into a miniature cannon which loaded up and primed itself with a humming sound.

“Scrap!” Outback swore, realizing just exactly what he was dealing with now. Humans… Aligned with Cybertronians.

Outback quickly transformed just in time. He jumped up, just over a tree that had fallen, right before the unknown Cybertronian took her shot. The laser ended up breaking the fallen tree, which she pushed right past. When Outback found himself on the freeways again, he jumped and converted back into his vehicular mode and kept on speeding right into this small town. He rounded a corner, his tires squealing out in protest even as angry horns honked all around him before he smashed right through the doors of an empty warehouse word splinters flying everywhere.

He came right out the other side, swerved a hard right even as laser shots smashed nearby shop windows and overturned a car sending it smashing into the back of a pickup truck. Overhead, Outback could still hear the sound of a certain helicopter’s rotors bullets riddling the streets behind him before he swerved down another corner and vanished from sight.

“D-13. Where the Hell has he gone?” the commander asked as his ride sped down a nearby alleyway hoping to catch Outback by surprise.

“Again, I ask you not to call me by that name,” Dropkick grumbled as he changed forms into his Ford Ute mode, usually reserved only for these ground pursuit situations. His codename soon became obvious, as the back half of his ute mode bore the phrase ‘D-13’ next to his Decepticon symbol, both in solid black typeface striking a sharp contrast across Dropkick’s otherwise blue bodywork.

“You are a soldier under my command, and so, therefore, you will go by the unit designation I call you by!” the commander bellowed. “Now find him!”

“He’s gone off my scanners,” Dropkick muttered in disgust making his contempt quite known as he pulled up alongside Shatter and her human companion, whom he’d like nothing more to turn into a puddle of slime to grind beneath his heelstruts. “Must have gone into deep cover mode, hiding his spark from our scanners.”

“Damn you!” the commander roared, slamming a fist up against Shatter’s dashboard.

Shatter fought back the urge to transform and shoot this James Savoy human dead on the spot or order her companion to do the same. But for now, they’d keep up the ruse no matter how much they hated it. As for Outback, the Autobot had managed to hide himself amongst the rusted vehicles gathered inside a WW2 museum and had ditched his previous altmode for something a little less…  of a standout for the time being. Namely, this old Humber Light Reconnaissance Car. For now, this was where he’d stay. He’d keep in contact with the rest of Prowl’s brigade, but only minimally and under only important circumstances. No sense in giving away his spark signature, at least not at the moment. Like Prowl had said, they were all targets now…







It was not a smooth ride coming to Earth really. It hadn’t been a smooth takeoff from Cybertron either. Fast and quick, that’s what it amounted to really. Onslaught had stolen an old Decepticon battleship, codenamed the Darksyde and had made quick work in getting him and his crew as far away from Cybertron as he could without much notice.

At least, that was the plan. After hotdogging through several systems, the two ships had finally caught up with each other, and the Autobots… well, they were taking a pounding really with their craft not exactly meant to go up against a battle cruiser.

“Hull breach in Sector Seven! The guidance systems… They’re failing!” Hound shouted over the comms as the Darksyde’s cannons riddled the side of the Autobots own ship. “Don’t know how much longer we can stay in orbit!”

“So… That’s the way it is huh?” Prowl mused before shouting an order. “Prepare for boarding! Onslaught, he’s not the take prisoners type! If he wants to get away clean, he’s going to want to leave no witnesses!”

Prowl grabbed his gun, and Decepticon Hunter and readied them for battle, with his fellow crewmates swift to follow.

“Got incoming Seekers! Three of them it looks like!” Hound barked, as he brought up a viewscreen that did indeed show three Decepticon seekers in their distinctive ‘tetrajet’ altmodes on a course bearing right towards their ship, leaving purple energy trails in their wake. One a military green shade, the second a black and bronze and the third and final one a bright yellow, blazing hot as the sun. Hound groaned, this was the last thing they needed. The Rainmakers. “Autoguns to maximum!” he ordered Swerve. “Shoot them down!”

But despite the hail of incoming fire all three members of the Rainmakers managed to dodge the fire and as soon as they got close enough to the ship, parts shifted and moved as they converted to robot modes and magnetized themselves to the hull. The black and bronze one, Sky Shadow had brought out a drill and was automatically boring into the ship. Well, he tried to anyways before a lucky shot from a cannon blew him to pieces.

Acid Storm raised his rifle, and fired with it a glob of Tox-En hitting the cannon shot that had downed his brother and melting it completely. Another cannon was soon to follow, Acid Storm keeping the cannons off his brother’s back while Sunstorm drilled open a hole in the hull.

Parts on the hull itself shifted and moved as a hole opened itself up and leaping out of the hall duel machine guns in hand was Sword Breaker, moving from left to right behind cover that automatically sprouted up taking shots at both Seekers. Hound was soon to follow, grenade launcher in hand until a spinning shuriken from Stinger who was bolstering a jetpack knocked it out of his hands.

Stinger was then solidly drop-kicked in the face by Swordbreaker, who then set about riddling Sunstorm with bullets, the Decepticon going up in a massive fireball. A loud shriek caught Swordbreaker off guard and the next thing he knew he was pinned by this massive dark blue and orange Predacon who was trying to rip him open with his beak and claws.

Suddenly, Darksteel’s eyes widened when he heard the roar of an engine and looked up only to see Road Rage smash into him headlong sending the Predacon floating off into space.

“You know, one of these days your lust for battle is going to get you killed, you know that right? Need a hand?” Road Rage remarked as she pulled out her rifle and helped Swordbreaker up. Road Rage shook her head. That bot, a stubborn one really. Always wanting to be the first to shed some Energon and collect his bounty. Reminded her far too much of this bot named Repugnus. Granted, Swordbreaker was more tolerable than Repugnus ever was but still...

“No, but-” Swordbreaker started before several shots just barely missed them by mere inches. A green massive tank had landed atop the hull, gravitizing itself before shifting to robot mode, which bore an eerie resemblance to the late Decepticon scientist Shockwave. “Okay, never mind. An assist would be appreciated.” Swordbreaker commented as he changed one of his hands into a proton burst rifle, a type of Cybertronian shotgun and took a few shots at the newcomer.

“Boys and their toys…” Road Rage sighed, the two fighting back to back briefly before Road Rage flipped to the side to avoid a blast of Tox-En from Acid Storm. Road Rage fired her weapon in mid-flip, knocking the rifle out of Acid Storm’s hands before the seeker was sent flying back by waves of sound from Sunder.

“Get up and shout, ow!” Acid Storm murmured before he slipped into unconsciousness and drifted off into space back in the direction of the Darksyde. Nearby, Prowl had joined the battle, and had grabbed a charging Steeljaw by the shoulder and had slammed him into the ground.

“And stay down.” Prowl ordered as he heard shouts from over the comms. Decepticons had managed to board the ship all over. In the engine room, Under-3 and Swerve were just barely managing to hold back Hooligan and Swindle while Perceptor worked his bearings off just to keep the ship from going down. Suddenly, he heard a loud scream as Under-3’s life signs went offline, the once proud sports car having been hit by a lucky shot from Hooligan.  He would only later find out two things, Swerve had avenged him with a good shot from his pistol and Under-3 hadn’t been totally offlined, just sent into stasis lock by a blast from Hooligan’s electro-shock rifle.

A familiar loud screech made Prowl’s optics widened even as the ship caught fire all around him and he saw Darksteel heading right for him, the Predacon changing forms in mid-air and bringing out this massive battle axe. All the while, Steeljaw was slowly but surely recovering.

Darksteel chuckled. “You know something, I actually thought taking this ship would be challenging. There is no reward awaiting any of you after death. This cruel injustice is all there is and all there ever will be. So, I take pride in the fact that I at least go in the glory of battle.”

Prowl lowered his head in shame. Once, the hippogriff Predacon had been a noble, just warrior fighting for the rights of his species. But cycle after cycle had changed him, turned him into this murderous savage. Perhaps Prowl should have seen it coming sooner, he thought. Perhaps he could have gotten the Predacon some help. But now, all that remained was this rabid dog who needed to be put down.  “Do you know what kills lions?” Darksteel commented, referring to the name of the ship, the Leobreaker named after the famous Autobot ally. “The relentless persistence of time and the pointless cruelty of life. You'll die the same way.”

“Oh, shut up!” Prowl shouted, punching Darksteel in the face and slamming him up against a wall.

“While I don’t honestly agree with the savage,” Steeljaw commented as he wiped the energon off his mouth. “I must say, you really should give up. Might spare you a lot of pain in the end.”

“I never give up. I promised Nova Prime to pursue you and Onslaught to the ends of the galaxy just to bring you back to Cybertron, so you can face justice for your crimes,” Prowl said changing his Decepticon Hunter into a bo staff. “You need help Steeljaw, you could control your rages once, why not now?”

“Because… Because,” Steeljaw growled out claws bared. “I haven’t had anything to rip and tear for cycles. I’m just barely holding myself back as it is, keeping myself from ripping you limb from limb right here and now!”

Prowl managed to block the claw strikes with multiple intercepts from his bo staff, before changing it into a crossbow like weapon, and knocking Steeljaw back with a flurry of energy bolts. Clutching his side in pain, Steeljaw growled. “Another day, another day!” he shouted, before transforming and driving off. Yes, he knew Onslaught would inflict great punishment on him, but it was better than being brought down by an Autobot stooge.

Prowl meanwhile, not caring for what happened to Steeljaw at least for the moment found himself pinned down by Vehicons and dashing for cover, transforming into his hover car mode and trying to outpace the shots, purple toned explosions behind him and a wall of flame in front. Prowl revved his engine and shot through the inferno, before transforming into robot mode long enough to smash through the hull and kick Swindle in the face before shooting down some vehicon soldiers who had come to back him up.

“Thank the Allspark!” Swerve shouted. “Almost out of energy here!”

“Don’t go thanking Him just yet,” Prowl commented as he punched a recovering Swindle in the face flooring him. “We’re not out of here just yet.”

Suddenly, a shot flew past his head and stepping out of a groundbridge was the massive hulking form of Onslaught, red optics gleaming in pure undisguised menace.

“So, this is who they sent after me?” Onslaught remarked nearly flattening Prowl with one punch. “I’m not impressed.”

He then punched him in the gut, still continuing to speak. “The mighty Prowl, the one who once served as one of Optimus Prime’s lieutenants and now a simple beat cop. How the mighty have fallen.”

Dodging the next punch, Prowl threw one of his own but it was caught and his hand began to groan out in protest, metal being squeezed by Onslaught’s mighty fist. “I… I could say the same. You were once one of us, a member of the Autobot Elite Guard!” Prowl shouted back, the two trading blows atop a catwalk while the Leobreaker’s engines burned below them. “What changed?”

“You’re the logical one, figure it out,” Onslaught commented in reply. “I grew… tempted. By the power that being one of Megatron’s most trusted brought me,”

“War’s over,” Prowl returned. “Megatron surrendered, fostered a peace treaty with Prime.”

“Megatron was weak then, I intend not to make the same mistake,” Onslaught commented dismissively socking Prowl across the jaw. “You do have this saving bots thing, don’t you? You’re trying to save me, you tried to save Darksteel and you tried to save Steeljaw. Such a foolish notion. What chance do you have of bringing me back to Cybertron… alive?”

“None… None at all.” Prowl whispered before pulling out his gun and fired at Onslaught striking him directly in the chest. Onslaught roared out in rage and pain, before opening a Groundbridge and grabbing Swindle he tossed him through it. Onslaught was soon to take his leave.

“Commander, I can’t…” Perceptor shouted over the sound of explosions and weapons discharge. “I can’t get the anti-gravs back online. We’re going down…”

“Then so be it. Charter us a course, find us the safest landing spot,” Prowl ordered even as he looked out a window to see the small blue orb rapidly approaching them. “If we must continue our war on another world, so be it.”

Prowl awoke from his recharge with a start. It started out so simple, humans just simply asking them to play by their rules and keep their planet intact. Well, it seemed as of late, Prowl mused as he clenched his fist, the rules had just changed.







Unknown Location:

Once Juniper had heard of the government officially commissioning a branch of the army known only as Cemetery Wind to hunt down the criminals known as ‘Autobots’, she knew it wouldn’t exactly take a genius to figure who was connected to them and helping them. 

Small wonder she’d resorted to drastic measures to find a place for her and Feral Steel to lay low. The Autobots had scattered, to all manners of the globe now that they were on the run not just from the Decepticons but the American government as well.

While she and Xiraia were hardly on the best of terms being distant cousins only had only ever met at family reunions, the DJ/Conspiracy theorist was only too happy to help as she held no real love for certain administrations. So, that’s how both Feral Steel, -using a light bender to masquerade as Juniper’s father, some high ranking government official ironically enough- Trixie, Juniper and the dead body of Stinger found themselves crashing at this junkyard which Xiraia had made a home base.

“Man, I don’t get it,” Trixie sighed to herself as she popped open a can of some fizzy drink. Jimi Hendrix’s version of the Star Spangled Banner blared somewhere in the background. “Trixie just does not get it! Why would the government suddenly turn on the Autobots?”

“Decepticons, it’s in the name innit?” Xiraia commented. Turns out she did have a surprising amount of knowledge about machinery, and so was quite able to help Juniper with her little pet project if you will. “I mean, they scream deceivers don’t they?”

“...Which makes whoever commissioned this Cemetery Wind crap extremely dumb in Trixie’s honest to god opinion. And where’s Fowler, and the rest of them? Aren’t they supposed to be the Autobots’ liaisons with the Feds?”

“Could have been bought off… or silenced,” Xiraia shrugged as Feral Steel handed her some wires before she petted the wolfish Predacon on his head. “Just sayin’.” the young woman remarked, her already dark skin covered in oil making it even seem all the more blacker, more sun-kissed.

“No, Fowler would never-”

“Kid,” Xiraia remarked. “You’re going to have to face some cold hard facts, some cold hard reality here soon. The world’s not all black or white, not all good or evil. Deny it as much as you like, but these friends of yours… They may have turned on you. Look, I can’t speak for you, as I’ve never met them, so I have to operate on a degree of skepticism, capiche?” she asked, a taser in her back pocket. Just in case any unwelcome guests came calling. Or Xiraia’s landlord. The woman was behind on payments, and from what Juniper had figured out and from what Xiraia had told her he was a real dick.

“So what are you exactly doing anyways?” Trixie asked Juniper. 

“Tired of feeling useless, tired of sitting on the sidelines only being this movie buff whose only real contribution is just educating your robotic friends on pop culture,” the former gofer had replied, Stinger’s body having been lifted up on two cranes. “So, time to make myself useful. Hardly a rocket scientist here, but my cuz? That’s a different story. Plus, got Feral Steel here to help. ...Although understanding him may take some work.”

“...Wish Trixie had your courage,” Trixie muttered. “To stand up and do what’s right.” 

Xiraia smiled and placed a hand on Trixie’s shoulder. “Ever read To Kill a Mockingbird? Great book. There’s this quote in there I really love. It goes: “I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.” That’s what you should strive for, listen to old Finch. You started this as soon as you and your girlfriend joined up with the Autobots, and saved that bird. There is no are you in or are you out now, not this far in. You’ve got to see this through to the end, wherever the path may lead, capiche?”

“Trixie… Trixie understands,” the guitarist said with a small slow nod of her head before she looked at Xiraia in curiosity. “Okay, just asking, but why are you helping us anyways? Besides the anti-establishment leanings? I mean, what do you get out of all of this?”

“Besides proof that all my theories about alien life existing being true? Not much, I’ll admit,” Xiraia replied. “But I’m doing this anyways, not because I want riches beyond the imagination or anything like that, but simply because it’s just the right thing to do. A family’s got to stick together after all…” she trailed off, looking towards Juniper.

“Almost… done!” Juniper grunted out as she slammed her Master Braces together and was covered with a crimson armor not unlike the bodysuits the other girls used as Targetmasters. Mind you, this one had some crucial differences, such as missing any obvious parts that would have indicated the suit changing into some sort of weapon. “See, told you with just a bit of Cybertronian know-how we’d be able to make this thing useful!” she exclaimed, patting Stinger’s leg strut.

“What exactly did you do to him… It… whatever?” Xiraia asked curiously, an eyebrow raised. 

“Always had a fascination with mecha and the like, so this is me taking things to their logical conclusion,” Juniper smirked. “Still, if I’m going to use that,” she continued pointing to Stinger’s headless body behind her. “We are so getting a new alternate mode aside from that damn podunk Camaro. I like something a little bit classier, ya know?”

Barking, Feral Steel tapped a button and brought up the internet, specifically a web page dedicated to Italian sports cars…







Miles away, at CHS Celestia found herself sighing. Several of her students, including Twilight Sparkle, hadn’t shown up for classes in over a week, and she was beginning to get worried.

She eyed this cross between a pickup and a Ford Falcon pulling up outside her school, with this man in a black suit and coat stepping out of the truck-like vehicle. 

Celestia stepped out of her office to see the man striding towards her, placing his sunglasses in a side pocket with her students stepping right out of his way. She would actually later compare them to scared animals, trying to run and hide from this larger predator. Celestia let out a small snarl, her students were like her family, sometimes like her children. Every alarm bell in her head was ringing, and she wanted to get this guy out of her school as soon as possible.

“James Savoy,” the man introduced himself, flashing a badge but so quickly Celestia couldn’t even get an idea of which organization he worked for. “May we talk in your office ma’am?”

“Yes… I suppose,” Celestia murmured, wanting to get this guy off of school grounds as soon as possible. “Can I just ask, why are you here?”

“Several of your students, gone missing in the past week and a half,” Savoy replied in this somewhat friendly somewhat half gruff tone. “Been getting a few calls of concern. Just call me a concerned citizen. World’s a bit different nowadays, rougher. Meaner.”

“If you’re talking about these giant alien robots, then I’m quite well aware of them Mr. Savoy,” Celestia remarked as she sat behind her desk eyeing Savoy like a hawk as he looked through the bookshelf to the side of her. She thought him a shark honestly, that’s what kind of predator she’d compare him to. A shark searching for any form of blood in the water, any sign of weakness from her. “But I’ve heard the government has a task force dedicated to dealing with them am I correct?”

In truth, she didn’t trust Cemetery Wind one jot. Seemed like there was something they weren’t telling the public, something they were holding back.

“Yes, and rest assured we’re taking care of things so you don’t have to worry,” Savoy replied. Every so often, Celestia noticed Savoy checked his phone. With his back turned, it was impossible to see what he was looking at. If she could have seen, Celestia would have been horrified. Savoy was watching a chase in New Orleans dockside areas from a drone’s perspective, with soldiers armed with special bullets created from studies of Shatter and Dropkick chasing down Hubcap who despite managing to get away for a short period in his vehicle mode was blown apart by a missile from Shatter. No mercy was given, no quarter was offered. No chances for surrender. “You have family Celestia?” Savoy asked.

Celestia shuddered slightly, although if Savoy noticed he didn’t react. “Yes, of course, I do. Don’t we all?”

“Yes, quite. We all have a family. I’m just trying to protect mine as well as yours. Listen, I need to know where those students of yours might have run off to. It’s vital to-”

“The US Government’s wishes?” Celestia asked, her voice as hard as steel as she strode towards Savoy with all the grace of an angry swan. “You know Savoy, I’d actually like you to leave now.”

“I assure you, ma’am, I intend nobody any harm, especially not the lives of young girls who are only just starting out!” Savoy replied no scared of Celestia in the slightest. She was just a teacher after all, what could she actually do to him? Admittedly, a whole lot if she had access to his phone, which was why he’d pocketed it quite quickly when she wasn’t looking. “There is nothing you need to fear, I’m just here to help.”

“And I’ve studied history,” Celestia replied. “Hell, I actually taught history before moving up a tier. So you’ll excuse me if I don’t trust you entirely when you phrase your doings in such a manner.”

Savoy never lost his nerve, a testament to him really. An angry Celestia was hard to deal with in any situation, and a protective one even more so. “It’s not their planet. Never was. Time we take it back,” he thought towards the Autobots. All he just wanted was to prevent alien war, and if that meant siding with some of the aliens themselves then so be it. They said themselves as peacekeepers, and while the higher-ups may have believed that he didn’t, not in the slightest. It was in the name after all. 

“I understand your distrust, so I won’t bother you any further. But any information you have, call this number,” Savoy said laying a piece of paper on Celestia’s desk before taking his leave. After he did so, Celestia shuddered once more, feeling as if she now needed to take a shower feeling rather unclean after her talk with Savoy. Her eyes then drifted towards her phone, and she picked it up and dialed a number. There was someone she needed to call. 

Savoy meanwhile, walked towards Dropkick and pulled out his phone and pulled up another camera, where he watched Fowler in chains being poked and prodded at by Swindle. Savoy, for a brief moment, wondered if this was really the right thing to do before that doubt passed. No, this was the way things had to be. He had to protect Earth, and so he relied on that old phrase. The enemy of my enemy was his friend.

“Now tell me…” Swindle asked with an unnerving gleam in his purple optics as he looked Fowler dead in the eye, an absolutely evil smirk cast upon his face. “Where are the remaining Autobots, and where are those human girls…?”
> Part 29: Hunted Part 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, that’s what it’s come to huh?” Pyra Magna thought to herself, her massive vehicular form of a fire engine resting itself amongst piles of junk, somewhere in Colorado. She, like the rest of the Autobots, had scattered to the ends of the earth once word got out the government had turned on them.

She found it fitting really, resting her chassis in a pile of where the humans left their dead automobiles, considering she herself had surrounded herself with dead crewmates. She could list the crew of the Van De Graaff off the top of her head, each and every one of their faces was embedded in her neural processor. And because of her own failure to pilot the ship to safety, half of them had probably died on impact.

“Some leader I turned out to be, huh?” she asked herself bitterly. 

She took a look around, sighing to herself. Admittedly, this probably wasn’t the best hiding place as a fire truck stood out more than say… a regular car but hopefully nobody would take notice of her. Hopefully. It was actually even a question of the Decepticons even knowing she was still alive, or if she was an active member to begin with. 

A horrific thought came to her, and it was as if someone had gripped her spark like a vice. Her crew… her crew. What was the likelihood of them not being able to survive an interrogation, presuming they even got one? She knew Combaticon tactics, and more often than not they had ways of finding the truth. Such as that monstrous device known as the cortical psychic patch. Developed by Shockwave -who else could it have been, really?- during the latter days of the war. It was a procedure that allowed one Transformer to view into the mind and thoughts of another, and unsurprisingly it had quickly garnered interest amongst the Decepticons, especially when they realized it could leave someone with permanent neurological damage if used… incorrectly. 

Because of this little facet, it had been banned for usage by Autobots, although those like Ratchet and Perceptor had written up texts on the subject just in case a situation ever arose -Primus forbid- that one was needed. Sadly, Pyra Magna had been on the end of one of the things, and it felt like every part of your body was violated, all at once. Mind you, this was when she was conscious, and she supposed if you were in a form of stasis lock it might have been marginally better. Marginally. Needless to say, she didn’t really like others poking about in her head and picking her brain.

Nor did she like the idea of some ‘Con getting the smart idea of using this on any of her crew. There was a reason when fleeing from the human government, she had rejected the idea of using the crash site of the Van De Graaff as a new base. Aside from holding far too many memories, it would have been the first place the Decepticons would have looked if they got ahold of any one of the Autobots.

“However…” Pyra thought to herself. “There’s still that one little issue.”

Deep down, she knew there was a reason she had chosen to hide out in Colorado, really. Especially this place, and it wasn’t to remind herself of her failures by hiding amongst the dead. No, it was far more than that. No, it was just in case she needed to make a trip to the crash site, she could easily make it there before anyone noticed. At least, that was the theory anyways.

Hearing the roar of a jet’s engines somewhere above her, one that looked frighteningly like a human fighter jet Pyra then decided to put that theory to the test. Engine roaring to life, Pyra drove out of the junkyard and hit the highways and took to the long curving, sweeping mountain roads that led up to the Van De Graaff’s crash site. All the while, she heard that same jet engine. Maybe some would chalk it up to coincidence, but Pyra Magna never believed in that. Upon reaching the site, she wasted no time and pulled out a rifle blasting the side of the ship open, and then blasting a hole down to the lower levels. 

“Pyra Magna, identification code Omega-Omega-Delta.” the fembot stated, parts of the ruined ship beginning to shift and change all around her to reveal a hidden storage compartment. In front of her, illuminated by light was this massive golden hammer. Taking ahold of the artifact, she smiled sadly to herself. This was the real reason the Van De Graaff had fled Cybertron. Not just to escape from the war, but to find a special hiding place for this artifact.

Pyra suddenly heard the distinctive whirring of an energon rifle’s barrel, and whirled around before her optics widened.

“You?” she whispered out in shock upon seeing Shatter’s lurking form stepping out of the shadows. 

“Yes. Me. Surprised? Missed me, Commander?” Shatter… No, Dust Up remarked with a small smile. “Wondered if you were still alive after all these cycles. And look at what I found. You, alive and well with the Forge.”

Parvus Oppidum, that’s where she’d found Dust Up, or whatever she chose to call herself nowadays. Old mining town, just barely scratching the surface of the Rust Sea. Not the Rust Sea of Cybertron, but the one of Caminus. For eons, they’d been cut off from Cybertron proper and on their resource-poor world, the Camiens developed a culture of conservation. They’d often taken to swords and other melee weapons instead of using consumption-heavy ranged weaponry. However, eventually, a scouting team lead by the cybertronian Red Alert had discovered them and had quickly alerted Cybertron to their plight. Pyra had taken Dust Up along with several other Camiens under her wing so to speak, teaching them Cybertronian and had led them into battle against the Decepticons when the war broke out. Sadly, one by one they fell until only Pyra, Smallfoot and Dust Up had remained. And now it seemed, instead of falling in battle like both Pyra and Smallfoot had thought, Dust Up had changed sides.

With a loud roar, Pyra blindsided her former teammate and slammed her to the floor using the sheer force of the massive warhammer she now held before changing to vehicle form and bolting. Wiping energon away from her faceplates, Shatter growled and managed to toss a small tracking device onto Pyra’s fender. Next, she radioed command.

“Yeah, get me some Eradicons on standby…” she growled out before shifting to jet form and taking to the skies…





On the other side of the continent, work continued on the form of Stinger, with little by little the frame becoming operational. Soon, a new body was ready to be scanned for the Decepticon-turned mech suit.

“So, you think this will really work?” Xiraia asked. “I mean, I’m a mecha fan as much as the next gal -You know what they say, chicks do dig giant robots- but this one? He had his freakin’ head blown off for crying out loud!”

Feral Steel chuckled, and simply tapped a key on the woman’s computer displaying the website for the Italian styling gurus Pagani before tapping another key.

“Hey, Trixie is studying the basics of these suits Perceptor gave us, and both me and Juniper figure given enough time we can rework them,” the stage magician commented with a small shrug. “Instead of transforming into big guns -which Trixie still doesn’t see the point of given Autobots already have built-in weapons- we can probably change their functions to something more… useful for our purposes. And it helps, we have pictures of Stinger’s original head!” she chirped, gesturing to the computer which now displayed just that. Changing into her armor, she then pressed a button on her gauntlet which made a visor flip down and scan the image on the computer.

“Trixie hopes she just doesn’t wind up scanning the laptop and changing into THAT instead!” the high-schooler thought to herself nervously. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding when her armor changed to a deep red with parts reconfiguring themselves for their new purposes. Her point proven, Juniper followed Trixie’s lead.

However, the next thing they heard was the sound of a soft knocking at the door. Xiraia pressed a button on the keyboard and brought up images from the security feed. Men dressed in suits, with their leader being dressed in this black coat -He would have been what Xiraia described as a silver fox had he not just extruded menace- were right outside.

“...And there goes the neighborhood…” Xiraia muttered in distaste. “You two, get out of here. I’ll cover you! Out the back, go now! Take Feral with you!”

“But what about you?” Juniper asked. “If… If they see Stinger, and they will they’ll have some questions for you.”

“Eh, if it comes to that I’ll just exercise my second amendment rights. Or plead the fifth. Whatever comes first,” Xiraia replied, reaching for a gun she’d hidden under her desk. Small Glock pistol, which was quickly hidden in her pockets. “Now listen, I like you two and family always goes ahead of the government. Especially government guys who’d probably throw kids into some gulag somewhere. Now, what are you standing around for, go!”

Juniper and Trixie both hugged the woman, much to her surprise before running for it with Feral Steel following after them. 

“Good luck girls…” Xiraia thought wiping a small tear from her eye before mustering up her courage and walking towards the front door.

Opening it with a creaking sound, she put on her best ‘good hard working American citizen’ smile. “...Oh, so you’re not the girl scouts?” Xiraia asked. “Shame, I ordered a few cookies and I do love my Thin Mints.”

“Girl Scouts?” Savoy asked as he and his men filed into the building with the man gesturing for them to fan out. “Love the girl scouts, hard working and they do make good cookies I admit. A prime example of future women of America, they are. Guessing you weren’t one.”

“What makes you say that?” Xiraia remarked. “I actually was, got quite a few merit badges.”

“We know who you are Xiraia, your little conspiracy ramblings on your own personal private radio show? Think we don’t care about them?” Savoy asked. “Okay, that’s mostly true. But you’ve gone silent as of late. My daughter missed you. Call me coming here just a little request to put your show back on the air,”

“...And your vaguely menacing dudes crawling all over the place? That part of your little request? Because let me tell you, I don’t take kindly to suits.” Xiraia remarked, one of her hands going for her pistol.

“You watched one way too many X-Files episodes I think,” Savoy replied. “We’re harmless.”

“Funny, there’s a quote. Might have heard of it. It goes: “The most terrifying words in the English language are: I'm from the government and I'm here to help.” Sound familiar? It should, given who they came from. Reagan was from your generation, same as mine. Took his words to heart, I did.” Xiraia continued.

As a shout came from one of Savoy’s men, the man himself smirked. “Wise woman. I’ll give you that much. Okay, I lied. I’m not here to ask you to put your show back on the air. See, we did a bit of digging and found out who you’re related to. Juniper Montage, 19 years of age and recently gone missing. Also did a bit of digging, and found her father -Dusk Montage- staying here. That’s funny, considering last we checked he was in Switzerland on behalf of the President,” Savoy smirked darkly.  “You're trying to defend your family. That's admirable. I'm trying to defend the nation from alien war.” he remarked. 

“War? What war?” Xiraia asked playing dumb even if she was sweating bullets. “Look, I believe in aliens, but if they were here I’d think I’d have reported on it.”

Savoy’s hand shot out, and smacked Xiraia across the face sending her sprawling to the floor with her gun flying out of her pocket and hitting the floor with a clatter. 

“Threatening a federal officer? That’s a big offense…” Savoy remarked as he walked up towards the body of Stinger. “Hiding dangerous technology, that’s also another offense. My my, you’re racking up crimes every second. Doubt you’ll be seeing the light of day till you’re ready for the old folks home.”

He picked up the pistol and aimed it at her head. Outside, having heard the gunshot Trixie and Juniper picked up the pace. No time to mourn, not yet at least. 

Darting between boats and cars, even clambering over a few with Feral Steel still at their side, gunshots riddled their feet. Men carrying rifles, they had taken aim at the two young women. It seemed leaving witnesses was out of the question. Trixie’s heart had dropped in betrayal as she saw Lennox amongst them.

Doubling back into the warehouse, Trixie looked at Juniper.

“...Are… Are you crazy?” she panted out. “You’re letting them box us in! We’ll be killed, just like your cousin!” Trixie screamed.

“Am I really?” Juniper whispered before she pressed a button on a nearby film projector and the air around her shimmered revealing Stinger’s body lying in front of them. “Me and cuz, we planned ahead for a situation. Hid Stinger in another part of the warehouse, using lightbender technology. The Stinger those creeps saw, just an illusion. A trick of the eye. Xiraia knew this too.”

“Then… Then what was the point of her dying?”

“Like she said, it was to buy us some time,” Juniper said, changing into her dark-green shaded armor and attaching herself to Stinger’s currently lifeless form. Just as the soldiers burst in, they soon found themselves faced with one massive mecha pointing a laser rifle at them.

“Cute,” Savoy deadpanned. “I have to ask, what kind of woman sells out her own flesh and blood for alien steel?”

“Have to ask you the same thing,” Juniper asked. She noted Savoy now sported a gunshot wound on his right shoulder, the man having covered it up with a hand to stop it from bleeding out. “Because only way I see it, the only way you could have gotten this location? Well, it’s almost as if you had… help.”

“Well, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. All in the name of his country of course,” Savoy smiled before shouting: “D-13, take her!” 

Juniper was proven correct when Dropkick burst in through a wall and attempted to tackle Juniper before she reached out with Stinger and threw the massive Decepticon to the floor. 

Parts shifted and changed before Stinger was now in the form of a Pagani Huayra, doors opening and Juniper shouting for Trixie to get in.

“D-13, after her!” Savoy roared out in anger. “After them both! We cannot let what happened here today be released to the public!”

“Understood,” Dropkick stated as he transformed to his Ford Ute mode and sped after the twosome. “Besides, I’ve got a bone to pick with those who use Cybertronian bodies like puppets.”

Engine whining as they took to the streets, Juniper weaved through oncoming traffic, Trixie yelping out in fear as she took a look in the rearview mirror. What she saw nearly stopped her heart, that being Dropkick rounding a corner and transforming to his gunship mode with missiles at the ready.

“Gee, I’d love to see them explain away this!” Trixie shouted in fear even as Juniper now used her new body, wires connecting her to Stinger’s own to dart right and left to avoid the missile shower.

“Maybe they’ll explain it away as being for a movie, seems to work a lot around here!” Juniper replied as she quickly found herself swerving around another corner, tires squealing out in protest as Trixie found herself thrown into the back of her seat.

A massive SUV, obviously government aligned given the huge blacked out windows and generally menacing appearance nearly slammed into Stinger from the side even as Dropkick flew overhead rotating on a dime. He did this so his front cannon was facing towards them, ready to fire off several shots. 

However, what he didn’t anticipate -and he probably should have to be honest- was for Juniper to floor it and let the SUV take the blow, the vehicle flipping end over end and Dropkick having to change back to his ground-based mode to avoid being hit. He dropped to the pavement at the very last second, even as the flaming wreckage flew overhead.

“On your left!” Trixie shouted, Feral barking out in alarm as another SUV pulled up alongside them. However, the window rolled down to reveal Lennox at the wheel, with an unconscious Xiraia in the passenger’s seat. 

“X-Xiraia?” Trixie stammered out. “You’re alive? But how…?”

“That gunshot? Me nicking Savoy in the shoulder, managed to drag Xiraia away in the chaos even as ‘Stinger’ as he seems to be called vanished into thin air and everyone tried to figure out what happened. Sorry about the little chase, had to keep up the ruse.”

“Oh yeah?” Trixie shouted. “How do we know you’re still not with them?”

“Please, if I was I would have shot you, and killed Xiraia. I’d never sell out to those walking junkpiles, unlike that coward Savoy,” Lennox shouted back. “Look me in the eyes, go on! Look me in the eyes, you’ll know I’m telling the truth then!”

Trixie studied Lennox hard, and honestly? She couldn’t find any hint of deception in his words. “You… You went undercover, didn’t you? Just to find out what Savoy was like, how he was getting his information!”

“Yeah, I did. Savoy’s a hypocrite through and through,” Lennox stated as the group entered a tunnel. “He’s led the Decepticons to Fowler, Chrysalis’ and Spitfire’s location, got them captured. Even now, they’re in Decepticon hands.”

“Bastard…” Trixie muttered. 

“To say the least,” Lennox agreed. “Come on, we need to find the Autobots, and then rescue our friends. Savoy, and Cemetery Wind? They’ve got to be exposed.”

“Then let’s do it,” Juniper stated, opening a channel. “Calling all Autobots, calling all Autobots…”
> Part 30: The Raid
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Colorado

Engine roaring and lights flashing, Pyra Magna drove down the mountainside passes realizing that Dust U-No, Shatter she immediately corrected herself wouldn’t be far behind. In fact, she knew the femme bot had probably already thrown a tracker on her and had sent a squad of Eradicons after her.

And considering the rather valuable cargo she was carrying, Shatter would have been stupid not to have done such a thing. Sure, none of the Decepticons probably would have been able to use the Forge considering it required the Spark of a Prime or something very close to it but they would have love to get their greedy little claws all over it just to keep it out of Autobot hands.

Even as she drove, Pyra sighed to herself.

“How… How did this happen? You were one of the best, and here you are Dusty, throwing your chassis in with the ‘Cons,” Pyra thought to herself, civilian cars swerving out of the way. Seemed taking the form of an emergency vehicle did have it’s advantages really. “What… What happened?”

She remembered the battles they fought, her and her team of Autobots. Back on Cybertron, her group was nigh-inseparable.

The Stellar Galleries, that’s when it possibly started to all go wrong with the benefit of hindsight Pyra probably thought. The Cons were laying siege to Iacon, the city having become a wartorn Hell worthy of the fires of the Pit.

Pyra’s squad had been stationed there, and when a massive Decepticon force led by the Seeker Leozack had arrived intent on claiming the building for their own as a staging ground she was having none of it.

As Pyra went cudgel to sword against Leozack, sparks flying, Dust Up escorted any remaining civilians in the area to safe locale. Trouble was, there really wasn’t any safe locale at the moment as fires lit up the skyline with Decepticons swarming in all around and Dust Up found herself breathing and panting hard in abject terror.

On a catwalk above, weapons met once more as Pyra and Leozack went head to head. 

“What, you’re not so inclined to speak?” Pyra asked as she ducked to avoid a sword swing from the infamous swordsman.

“Talk during battle is a sign of weakness!” Leozack roared, drawing his blade and leaping forwards, the fires making him look as if some kind of demon before Pyra kicked him into another room.

“Only when you're too primitive to do two things at once.” Pyra smirked. That smirk was soon to fade as a barrage of missiles came at her from where Leozack once stood. Optics widening, Pyra ripped off a wall panel and used it as a makeshift shield.

“This way, this way!” Dust Up shouted, tearing her attention away from the battle as Scoop and Rook provided covering fire slagging several Decepticon soldiers. Torca’s massive tank form was thrown through a wall, the autobot transforming into an equally massive robot form bearing what looked like tusks jutting out from his head. He then began to hold off Killbison grappling him before solidly punching the gold Decepticon in the face. Overhead, three other seekers -In order, Guyhawk, Hellbat, and Thrust- flew overhead lasers firing even as Dust Up lead the civilians into the underground tunnels. 

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Dust Up stated, the civilians cowering in fear as rumbles of the battle raged above them. “We’re going to be fine down here,” she stated as she began to tend to the wounds of some of the Iacon natives patching up energon leaks and the like. Now, if only she could believe her own words. Liozack’s men were here, and to be honest there were only two of them missing. One of whom was a known underground specialist. 

Looking above her, she saw Scoop toss Liozack’s soldier Jallguar into some Vehicon drones before Scoop shifted into a hover-loader mode and ram the lot of them. Presumably anyways, as all she heard before Scoop vanished from sight was the sound of metal slamming into metal.

“...Well, that’s just Prime…” Dust Up murmured to herself deciding to screw pretenses and drop her calm exterior in front of the civilians. To be honest, she really wasn’t cut out for this. She wasn’t a warrior, she’d just been drafted into Pyra Magna’s team because the commander had felt sorry for her. “H-Here I am, trapped with civilians and my team’s backs to the wall and I… I can’t even get you guys out of here. Slag… Drillhorn’s probably bearing down on us right now and we’d never even know it!”

“Listen, you guys are some of the best of the best, right?” one of the civilians remarked. Knock Out, if she remembered his name correctly. “Primus knows how many countless times you’ve saved lives all over Cybertron. If… No, when we get out of this, I’m going to become a medic. Just because of your heroism.”

“Fine time to pick a ‘Bot to idolize. Listen to me Knock, I’d suggest you pick a better profession. You can’t save everyone. Cybertron’s going to the pits right now as it is. Better off you find a way off planet. Save yourself.” Dust Up disagreed, watching the hallways and feeling for the tremors underneath the ground with her sensors.

This was what Knock Out would later tell Pyra Magna when she asked what happened in that battle. And this was what Pyra figured triggered Dust Up turning towards the Decepticons and/or adopting the name of Shatter. She was terrified of seeing city after city, friend after friend fall to Deathsaurus and Megatron’s combined onslaughts. She just wanted to be on a side that would guarantee her a place that wouldn’t see any friends of hers fall. And at the time, the Decepticons probably looked very appetizing given how they always seemed to grow in number with each passing day.

Pyra Magna couldn’t forgive her old friend for her cowardice, but she could at least understand her in a way.

“Go, now!” Dust Up shouted as the ground beneath her suddenly started to shake before a blue and white drill tank burst up from underneath her and assumed a bipedal stance. Dust Up grabbed a panel off the walls -more like ripping it off frankly- and tossed it towards Drillhorn knocking him to the floor.

The civilians took the hint, and were quickly loaded into the back of a massive subway train that hopefully led far away from here. Dust Up allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief as several Autobots she recognized, Cyberwarp and Backstreet led by Small Foot helped them inside keeping an optic out for any unwanted guests. 

“For what it’s worth…” Knock Out said before he was loaded into the subway train. “You gave me hope where there was none, for that at least you should be thanking yourself.”

“Yeah… Maybe…” Dust Up whispered as the train sped off. A wall was blown open in an explosion of purple flame, and Hellbat and Acid Storm waltzed in, rifles trained on the femme bot.

“Hey, which do you think will hurt worse? This photon rifle, or your acid?” Hellbat cackled sharing a downright evil look with his compatriot. 

“Dunno, that’s what experiments are for. Ah say the acid first, just ta prolong the pain a little…” Acid Storm commented, the military-green Seeker laughing all the while in a crazed fashion.

“Agreed… It’s no fun when they die quickly. I love it when their spark goes offline… slowly.” Hellbat practically giggled stepping aside. Bravely, Dust Up pulled out a grenade waiting for the opportune moment to bring the entire roof down on top of them all before the loud shout of a truck horn was heard. All three cybertronians’ eyes widened before the massive form of Pyra Magna burst onto the scene ramming Hellbat into the subway tracks, the Seeker being electrocuted with amp after amp of electricity before finally exploding. Pyra assumed robot form and grabbed Acid Storm by the arm faster than he could blink and tossed him into a wall knocking him soundly unconscious. 

“You alright?” Pyra asked nervously helping her teammate up.

“Y-Yeah… I’ll be fine. Sure took your sweet time getting here, really,” Dust Up remarked.

“Yeah, sorry… Traffic was terrible, and let me tell you? Leozack? Right pain to put down. He’ll be up in about in a bit, nursing quite the headache but let me tell you I wouldn’t want to be around when he does come to. Not going to be pleased with us. We’ve been ordered to evac to the Great Dome. Sentinel Prime’s holed up with quite a few of the stragglers and is trying to formulate a plan to take back the city.”

“...Well, best we get moving then.” Dust Up replied before she transformed to vehicle mode with Pyra following and the two took to the tunnels and up onto the highways never noticing the fact that this massive blue-bodied, red-winged Decepticon was watching them all this time.

Even as they drove, the highways shifted and moved in front of them with gears and cogs whirring and clanking and pistons pounding to accommodate the twosome. Sensors in the road below detected the wheels moving over them and issued ordered to more sensors ahead to change the highway patterns and layout in response.

Pyra swore she heard the roar of a jet engine somewhere above them, but when she trained her sensors to the sound she saw nothing. 

“You think we’re being followed?” Dust Up asked.

“I’d be foolish to think we’re not being. I highly doubt Leozack would let us escape that easily…” Pyra replied.

“Easy, you call that easy?” Dust Up laughed darkly. “I nearly got burnt to a crisp by that crazed Con! What about the others anyways, Torca and the rest? Where are they?”

“When the evac order went out,” Pyra explained. “I ordered everyone to go their separate ways. It was better that wa-”

“B-Better?” Dust Up choked out, and Pyra in hindsight would probably point this as to another reason why the femme bot defected. She wanted teammates she knew she could rely on, ones that would never leave her. “Have you lost it? Look around, the city’s a warzone!”

“Yes, but my team, our team knows their way around it. Knows every nook and cranny. They’ll find a way to safety. Splitting up? Reduces the chance of us being followed anyways. The Decepticons control this city now, we need to think smart. We can’t allow any one of us to know the location of the other or our full plans. Nobody’s been briefed on everything completely. So if one of us gets captured…”

“...Nobody will spill the full plan. ...I really hate you sometimes, you know that right?” Dust up muttered.

“Sometimes… Sometimes we all have to do things we don’t like. Just to survive…” Pyra whispered to herself.

Back in the present day, Pyra repeated these words to herself as she looked down from atop a cliff at a river below, a detonator in her hands and the Forge strung across her back. As she’d predicted, several Eradicons had made themselves known and were now bearing down on her. Also as she’d predicted, she’d found a tracking implant placed on her by her former comrade.

Of course, she’d outwitted Shatter/Dust Up and had placed the tracking implant onto a log slowly floating towards the Eradicons. As they checked their scanners for the implant, Pyra smirked and pressed the detonator. A powerful explosion lit up the pass and consumed the Eradicons in its wake leaving nothing but shrapnel and burnt wood behind. 

“...So, that’s the best you’ve got my love?” Pyra asked. “I know you too well, and you to me. This game, it’s far from over. So I say to you…” Pyra continued slamming a fist in to her palm. “Bring it on. You’ve still got a lot to learn, and if you want to kill me… Best you try harder.”







Lebanon, Kansas

“Calling… Calling all Autobots…”

This was the signal that went all across the US, reaching Pyra Magna in the mountain passes of Colorado, all the way to Perceptor who had been holed up in the Arctic Circle as a research vehicle for scientists.

“Somewhere, somebody out there gave that order to hunt us down…” Outback said ditching his disguise as he knew that with a wide-ranging signal like that coming from an Autobot signature, it was time to move once more. It may not have been a Prime giving out the order, but to him, it might as well have been. Finally, it was time to move he thought to himself as he roared across the wheatfields of the Great Plains.

“And we’ve got to find them,” Night Ranger agreed as he roared up alongside him, Autobot symbol flashing in the bright sun, and holographic driver ditched. If the world wanted to know about alien lifeforms, he was all too happy to educate them that they existed and at least some of them were friendly. “Agreed?”

“...Yeah, but first things first we regroup, formulate a strategy and then we hit those dingos where it hurts. And trust me, I’ve been wanting to do plenty of that.” Outback agreed.

In a truck stop somewhere outside of Raleigh North Carolina, Juniper and Trixie had resorted to ‘borrowing’ cash from an ATM using Juniper’s credit card -or rather her father’s- and knowing they were probably watched held up a sign saying: “We will find you.”

In Washington, a certain high-ranking member of Cemetery Wind was enraged to see what was going on and turned to his men. “...I was told they were no-one, teenage girls at that! And yet…”

Savoy showed them the screen on his tablet showing Juniper and co waving at them, along with Lennox. “These nobodies have our tech now and one of our operatives backing them…”

It wasn’t long before the local sheriffs showed up on being told there were wanted terrorists in the area, but by the time they did the threesome were long gone and already hitting the highway for the rendezvous point in Lebanon, chosen because it was the exact geographic center of the US and the best place for everyone to meet up.

And so the transmission went out again.

“Calling all Autobots, calling all Autobots…”

Juniper and Trixie’s eyes widened in shock when they heard an engine coming up from behind, with a roar that rivaled Stinger’s own, and looked behind them to see the very distinctive form of Knock Out coming up from behind.

“Allons-Y girls!” he cried as he flew past them. “Just show me the way, and I’ll follow the path! Scrap, might even make a race of it with you and that fancy-smancy automobile!”

“...Is he always like this?” Lennox asked over the radio and Trixie sighed.

“...Yep,” she deadpanned before laughing uproariously. “Trixie is so glad to see some things haven’t really changed one jot!” she cried, spotting Lemon inside Knockout’s passenger seat bopping her head to some unheard music coming from her headphones. 

“And where just did you get that fine automobile,” Knock Out inquired. “Please tell moi you haven’t turned to the dark side and started stealing cars? ...Granted, you would have fine taste if you did but…”

“...Well, we sorta did and we sorta didn’t…” Juniper replied to the frankly rather flamboyant Cybertronian. “It’s sorta a long story.”

“It’s a long drive, I’ve got the time for stories,” Knock Out commented. “And you really must tell me where you picked up your friend!” he commented, referring to the massive black SUV that Lennox was driving, Feral Steel in the passenger seat disguised as an ordinary dog -complete with head hanging out the window and tongue panting hard- using lightbender technology. 

“Oh, did I mention? Apparently, Lennox here went undercover in Cemetery Wind to find out what they’re up to!” Trixie shouted back.

“Well, kudos for him!” Knock Out remarked in a chipper tone. “Good to see not every government-oriented human is aligned with those disrespectful idiots! Oh, did I tell you about the time they shot me up and ruined my paint job down in West Virginia? Oh for Primus’ sakes, have they no shame!”

“...Yep, you haven’t changed a bit.” Trixie chortled.

They then saw a rusted police car drive up alongside them, scanning a billboard and rust, little by little began to flake and then fly off the rapidly shifting body that was now more supercar than an ordinary police cruiser. On the grill, the famed Autobot symbol appeared even as the light bars popped up on top of the roof.

“...Wow, pimp my Prowl…” Lemon said in jubilation as she pulled the sunglasses off her face to get a good look at Prowl’s new form.

“C'est impossible!” Knock Out exclaimed in indignation. “Nobody is allowed to look more fabulous than me, nobody!” 

“Yeah, well… it’s happened,” Trixie replied just barely holding back her giggles. “It just happened.”

“...Why I oughta…” Knock Out grumbled descending into very rude phrases in Cybertronian that to our ears, just sounded like random whirs and beeps. Even as he continued driving down the highway with his entourage -harem(?)- of frankly beautiful looking sports cars, Knock Out was thrown for a loop when he received a transmission from Breakdown.

“Knock, that you?” Breakdown asked through the Conjunx Endura bond. 

“B-Breakdown? Where you been?” Knock Out stammered out.

“L-Listen, I haven’t got much time, this is not safe anymore, us communicating like this. The ‘Cons, they’re starting to get antsy, and it had to do with something I might have did…” Breakdown replied, and if Knock Out didn’t know better he could have sworn that was guilt he detected in his bondmate’s tone.

“What did you do? Tell me Breakdown, what did you do?”

“It… It was in Sri Lanka okay? I’d found the location of Steeljaw and Filch, looking for help against the Decepticons, and… And I turned on them, me and Brawl along with a few others ambushing them just after they’d helped save a fellow Predacon…” Breakdown explained.

“You did WHAT!?!” Knock Out bellowed out in shock.

“It was them or me, they had a gun to my head,” Breakdown explained hurriedly. “A gun to-”

“Then you should have just let them pull the trigger, we do not give up friends locations!” Knock Out yelled at him. 

“They were threatening you as well, they knew where you were and were planning to send in a strike team to take you and the humans out! I had to do something!” Breakdown shouted back.

“More like save your own hide!” Knock Out shouted. “You’re the reason Cemetery Wind’s onto us, aren’t you? There’s a reason why we haven’t had help from Fowler or any of the rest, and I’m willing to bet-”

“No, I had no hand in that, I promise,” Breakdown swore. “But I know who did. Shatter and Dropkick… They found them, convinced some higher-ups in the US government that they were enemies of the state and were allowed to hunt them down. Even now, they’re here onboard this very ship! Now, I can’t make a move against anyone without bringing down the might of Onslaught’s entire crew down on my head, but I can give you something, namely the security code to the ship’s firewalls. If you could somehow manage to find this ship, you could easily bridge into it with the Autobots and rescue everyone, including the humans!”

“Well… We do have a few more forces of our own since we last talked…” Knock Out trailed off. “If we can manage to get ourselves all together, there might be hope for us yet. Lennox, friend of mine apparently went undercover in Cemetery Wind. Mole, you understand.”

“You sure about that?” Breakdown questioned. “Has he gave you more than his word? How do you know he’s not lying?”

“He saved a human life from that hunting dog Savoy and blew his own cover in the process. I’d say that puts him in ou-No, my good books don’t you think?” Knock Out questioned, having to correct himself. No, he and Breakdown weren’t a thing anymore. Not since… this.

“I… I understand, Breakdown out,” the Stunticon sighed before adding: “Oh, and one last thing? Be safe okay?”

Knock Out never answered back. Eventually, a few miles outside Lebanon in an empty field everyone finally met up. Shifting and whirring, all of the Autobots began transforming at once much to Lennox’s awe.

“...I swear, no matter how many times I see it, that’ll never get old…” the soldier muttered with Xiraia nodding in agreement.

“You can say that again…” she added, Feral Steel nuzzling her leg affectionately. “Like a bright light of hope in an ever-changing tumultuous world…”

“Okay, who’s the tagalong?” Outback asked, pointing his gun at Lennox noticing his attire.

“Whoa, whoa!” Perceptor stated lowing Outback’s weapons. “Let’s hear him out, okay? Let him state his case.”

“Then we get to decide on if we get to shoot him?” Outback asked.

“We’re not shooting anybody,” Perceptor disagreed, with Prowl rubbing his temples in frustration. Clearly, he could see that he’d been missed. “That would make us no better than the enemies we currently fight.” the scientist continued.

“Exactly,” Lennox agreed. “We all make choices, but in the end our choices make us. I was suspicious of the Decepticons approaching us, so was General Bryce for that matter. So, I was sent in undercover to see what was what.”

“...Humans, a bunch of backstabbin’ little weasels,” Outback remarked having read up on the many wars the humans had fought over the centuries. He was decidedly not impressed. “Can’t be trusted with their own planet, so why are we helping them?”

“They’re young, they don’t know better, and can we say we’re really any different?” Small Foot asked. “We’ve been fighting for millennia, and it’s only in the last few centuries Cybertron is starting to put itself back together…”

“Yeah yeah, it’s just I don’t like being hunted down by both Decepticons and humans at once!” Outback snapped, wondering how in the name of the Pit he was going to break to Small Foot that her old friends were now working for the Decepticons. Pyra Magna, for her part, stood silently in the background only just now speaking.

“Find your inner peace Outback,” she said. “Loyalty… Well, that’s just a flower in the winds of temptation.”

“Didn’t know you did haikus…” Lemon remarked. “That’s sorta awesome… in a flowery poetic way.”

“Eh, sometimes I had nothing better to do when just sitting around in a junkyard feeling sorry for myself,” Pyra Magna replied, Perceptor eying the Forge strung to her back and optics widening upon realizing what it was. “Trust me, I like Earth, sometimes a Hell of a lot better than I like Cybertron at times. Thought it best to learn more about it.”

“Yeah yeah…” Outback grumbled. “But I’m quite disenchanted with this little vacay. I say screw it all, and up and leave!”

Pyra Magna glared at him. “You have quite a lot left to learn young Outback. Humans are not what you say them to be. They’re scared yes, but they have every reason to be with us tromping around on their planet. So ask yourself: do you know it in your head, or just your gut? You're a great fighter, Outback. But you have to be more than that to be a great warrior. Sometimes listening is harder than fighting. A true warrior must do both.” she lectured promptly shutting Outback up.

“Good to see you haven’t changed much,” Prowl commented. “Wise as ever, Great Fire.”

“Ugh, don’t call me that. I hate that name,” Pyra grumbled. “Makes me sound far too pretentious like I’m some sort of high priestess or something.”

“Noted,” Prowl remarked. “So what exactly are you doing with the Forge of Solus Prime?”

“Wait, that thing’s a forge?” Trixie asked. “I thought it was just one really big-ass hammer.”

“Appearances can be deceiving…” Xiraia stated, beating Sugarcoat to the metaphorical punch.

“It’s not just a forge, it’s the Forge. The Forge of Solus Prime, the one she used to carve out some of the most powerful and legendary artifacts in Cybertronian history young one,” Pyra stated with a slight tone of reverence in her voice. “It’s useless to us as it is, at least function wise as it needs the spark of a Prime to activate and we’re short on those but…”

“You can crack a few skulls with it, I bet!” Lemon chimed in punching the air. “Wham, bam! It’d be like whack-a-mole!”

Sugarcoat facepalmed.

“So, I reiterate,” Prowl questioned. “What exactly are you doing with it, Pyra?”

“The Van De Graaff, it was more than just a way for us to flee Cybertron. In the waning days of the war, when it looked like all would be lost to Megatron, Alpha Trion ordered us to get as many artifacts off-world as possible. Some were jettisoned to the stars in rockets, others like this we took personally and tried to hide them as far away from the Decepticons as possible.”

“So that explains what this is doing on Earth…” Prowl murmured implanting the Star Saber in the ground.

“Exactly,” Pyra agreed. “They should come in handy… Well, they would if we had a Prime with us, as… Well, to be frank, to activate the Star Saber’s real power we would need one. For now, it’s just one big thing to hang on the wall of your ship. I’m amazed you were even able to lift it as well as you were…”

“Wait wait wait,” Sunny said waving her hands up in the air. “Too many names to keep track of at the moment, all I want to know is right now… can we save my dad?” she asked close to tears with Indigo hugging her and Howlback licking her hand with a metallic tongue.

“That… That would be difficult,” Perceptor stated and Sunny’s face fell. “But it won’t be impossible. Trust me, it’s quite achievable. I’ve been triangulating the locations of the Groundbridges the Decepticons have created in my spare time -and trust me, I’ve had plenty of that believe you me!- and I’ve managed to find the location of their ship.”

“So we can get in there, and bash some heads finally?” Road Rage asked, slamming a fist into her palm.

“Hardly. The firewall’s too difficult to penetrate, some of the best coders I know work for the Decepticons unfortunately. Swindle amongst them. He’s made it very difficult for me to get past it.”

“And this is where I come in!” Knock Out announced triumphantly. “I do have just such a thing to get past them…” he smirked transmitting the firewall security codes towards Perceptor whose optics widened.

“How did you…? Oh, never mind, Breakdown probably…” Perceptor muttered.

“Yeah…” Knock Out murmured to himself. “Breakdown.”

“Should take me a few minutes, but I should have these firewalls slave to my command in just a jiffy and then we can get rolling,” Perceptor stated as a little computer of hard light energy appeared on his wrist.

“Uh, guys…” Outback trailed off as the roar of a jet engine pierced the air. “I hate to burst this all heroic bubble we’re in, but Juniper was it? You sent that call-out to all Autobots, and I do mean all Autobots on Earth. Even former ones…”

“W-What’s that supposed to mean?” Small Foot stammered out before she saw the distinctive forms of Shatter and Dropkick flying towards them and then transforming to robot mode to greet them.

“It means that!” Outback shouted. 

“No... no way... it's... it's them.” Small Foot whispered scarcely able to believe it. Outback was of the same mindset, though for completely different reasons. Why of all Cons did these two have to show up, and why now? 

“..Aw slag,” Outback muttered. He swore silently to himself, cursing Juniper for her stupidity. No, it wasn’t her fault he mused. It was his own, for not telling anyone sooner about where Shatter and Dropkick’s allegiances now lay.

“Who?” Indigo asked and she took a step or so back, seeing the two cons charging at them.

“Shatter... Dropkick... they're alive! They're alive!” Small Foot cheered excitedly waving her arms up and down in the air. WHOO-HOO!!! They're alive!”

Uh… Small Foot, they're coming right at us, I think we should run!” Lemon commented as a Groundbridge opened up behind them.

“Come on, they're friends! Besides, look at them, they don't look the least bit--why does she look like she wants to murder us?” Small Foot squeaked out as she saw the Decepticon badges on the two of them. And then Shatter whipped out twin arm cannons.

“Wha… No, no… It can’t be…” Small Foot whispered.

“Afraid it is, Foot,” Outback stated sadly with a small shake of his head. Swerve then began pulling her through the Groundbridge laying down covering fire as well as all but two of the group fled through it.

“We’ll hold the line, you guys go on ahead!” Pyra stated bringing out the Forge and a battle mask flipping up over her face. Knock Out meanwhile brought out his Energon Prod. “Go on. MOVE!” she barked.

“Well, long time no see Dusty…” Pyra commented. “Wish we didn’t have to meet like this, you and Small Foot more accurately but suppose all things have to come to pass eventually…”

“You know, I forgot that about you,” Shatter said as she dodged a swing from the Forge before roundhouse kicking her former commander in the face. “You talk way too much! What, you’re not so inclined to speak now?”

“Talk during battle is a sign of weakness!” Pyra stated as she let out a battle cry in an eerie echo of what came before even as behind them, Knock Out rolled to the left to avoid a blast from Dropkick’s cannon. With that, Pyra drew back her fist…







The Darksyde

“...Well, isn’t this a fun time?” Swerve muttered sarcastically, Flanker in his hands and gripped tightly. “Here we are, Decepticon HQ, the big one! The hive! Abandon all hope ye who-”

Outback slammed a hand over Swerve’s babbling vocalizer.

“...Does he ever shut up?” he asked nobody in particular.

“Not particularly, no,” Small Foot said with a little shake of her head, the minibot sighing to herself. “Mind you, can’t say I actually blame him for being nervous… Y’know, considering where we are and all…”

“Hey, you going to be alright there Foot?” Outback asked. “Shatter and Dropkick… they were your friends, and now…?”

“I’d thank you not for reminding me of that, thank you very much!” Small Foot snapped, and Outback actually flinched at that. Seeing this, Small Foot sighed. “I’m sorry, Outie… It’s alright, and I’m definitely not fine… Seeing them after all these cycles, and them turning up alive only to have defected to the Decepticons… What happened?”

“I dunno Foot, but you can be damned if I won’t try to find out,” Outback said resting a hand on her shoulder. “Now, we should probably be quiet. ...The one time I wish that former ‘Con was here with us, he’d know the layout of these hallways better than anyone, and the timing of the patrols. Instead, here we are relying on sheer luck.”

“Maybe not just luck, no,” Juniper said, having resumed her position as Stinger’s head. “I’ll see if I can access Stinger’s databanks. He might have something on them…”

“Hold up!” Prowl whispered as everyone quickly slammed themselves up against a wall as a Vehicon patrol passed by them. It was a tense moment to say the least, as everyone hoped and prayed to whatever God they worshipped that nobody would turn their heads.

Thankfully, nobody did, and even more surprising was what happened next when the Vehicon patrol rounded a corner. Next, crashing and banging sounds came from it and a drone’s body went flying into a wall its head smashed in by one powerful blow.

“What in Primus’ name…?” Prowl whispered before Breakdown rounded a corner, one of his hands switched out for a giant hammer. He quickly switched that hammer out for his normal attachment.

“Okay, now I’m really confused,” Sour Sweet muttered. “Aren’t you a Decepticon?”

“...Yeah, well, I’m really re-considering my loyalties around here, no thanks to Brawl. Also have you to thank, that conversation we had back in Canterlot was really… enlightening so to speak,” Breakdown replied and all optics and eyes turned towards Sour.

“I’ll explain later. Glad to know you know which side you’re on,” Sour replied. “Shame we couldn’t bring Knock Out along with us, your husband would-”

“Yeah, I’m not so sure he’s a fan of me at the moment,” Breakdown muttered sourly to himself. “At least tell me’s alright.”

“...He’s dealing with Dropkick and Shatter alongside Pyra Magna, so I suppose it depends on your definition of alright really,” Prowl said. “Now, if you’re really changing sides, prove it. Help us rescue our human friends.”

“I’ll do more than that, there’s two or three bots on this ship I know you’d like to have added to your ranks. Humans?” he asked, and Indigo nervously stepped forwards.

“Y-Yes?” she stammered out, recognizing the voice as the one who nearly ran her over all those nights ago. “Now listen here, you take one toe out of line, and it’s my face that you’ll never have to forget, understand me? Never.”

“Understood,” Breakdown rumbled. “You’ve got bearings kid, I can admire that. And for what it’s worth… I apologize for what happened all those cycles ago. I honestly do.”

“...And now that we’re all together in a Yellow Submarine, can we just get on with things?” Lemon asked exasperatedly. 

“Yes. Quite,” Breakdown agreed. “Humans, if you can stick to the shadows unseen I believe you might be able to free Agent Fowler and your friends. I will help Prowl and the others free our respective comrades. Agreed?”

“Yes, quite. The detention block they should be down that way,” Prowl agreed pointing down a corridor. “Keep this up Breakdown, and we may just perform the Rite of the Autobrand on you yet!”

“...It means nothing if Knock Out is not there with me to witness it,” Breakdown said as the Crystal Preppers ran off in their suited forms probably being able to pass as Minicons really. “Promise me he will come back safe,”

“I will not make a promise I’m not sure I can keep,” Prowl said unaware of how well Shatter and Dropkick could fight together even with Pyra backing Knock Out. “But I will say that he can hold his own.”

“Yes, I can vouch for that,” Breakdown admitted as they walked dispatching any patrols in their way swiftly and silently. “How’d you know the location of the detention cells anyways?”

“...Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been on a Decepticon ship.” Prowl said as he blasted a down open revealing Airazor, Filch and Steeljaw restrained to a wall by energon chains.

“...What… What took you long enough ‘Bot?” Steeljaw sniped. Meanwhile, the girls had managed to find Agent Fowler, Spitfire and Chrysalis hanging from the ceiling by their arms.

“What are you girls doing here?” Spitfire shouted. “Are you-”

“Crazy?” Indigo asked as she walked up to a console that resized itself for an organism of her size and began pressing buttons. “Perhaps, but you do need rescuing right?”

“...Kids, can’t tell them what to do anymore right?” Chrysalis asked with a weak grin.

“Daddy…?” Sunny asked in a nearly heartbreaking tone as she prodded Fowler, who only had this to say.

“Grandma? Is it cookie time?” Fowler asked in a weak, dazed tone.

“...Dammit, Flamewar…” Howlback muttered. “He’s alive, that’s good at least. We’re lucky he isn’t dead…”

“The emu says YEAH!” Fowler shouted.

“They only keep them alive as long as they’re useful,” Howlback said gently shoving Indigo aside and pressing the buttons in the proper order. “Soon as that use runs out… Well, suppose I really don’t need to explain that do I?”

“...Gee, I feel so honored.” Chrysalis deadpanned.

“I like pie. Can we stop for pie?” Fowler asked as Spitfire holstered the man up over her shoulder.

“...You certainly don’t need any more pie,” the flight commander muttered. “Hefty enough as it is!” she grunted out.

“So my cat came to rescue me,” Chrysalis remarked as Howlback helped her down. “Never knew I was quite so well off!” she chirped.

“Yeah, yeah… Don’t let it go to your head m’kay?” Howlback sniped back in a half-hearted tone. “Not your cat, I’m only doing this so I won’t have a couple of crying children on my paws. Really hate that…”

Loud crashing sounds and explosions soon echoed from somewhere ahead of them.

“...Well, that lasted about an only good time of about five seconds!” Howlback sniped. “Leave it to the lugnut to give away we’re here!”

Sure enough, when they got outside, they saw Breakdown and Brawl grappling, before Breakdown broke the stalemate and slammed Brawl into a bulkhead with his hammer. 

“Say Uncle! Say it!” Breakdown grinned. “Consider this my resignation from the Decepticons!”

He whirled around to face an oncoming Swindle and sent him flying.

“Dead battery,” Breakdown smirked as the kids beat feet.

“Gotta say,” Lemon remarked towards Sour who could only nod in turn. “I like his resume!”

Breakdown continued providing time before he was grabbed from behind in a headlock by a recovered Brawl.

“Now you say uncle!” Brawl sneered.

He was soon hit by a flying side-kick to the face from Night Ranger.

“Dude, you really need to slow your roll, your aura is putting me off brah…” Night Ranger commented, though to who it was unknown as Breakdown simply rubbed his head in confusion.

“...I didn’t even know we had uncles? I thought that was just a human game!” he remarked.

“Brah, you’ve got a lot to learn about quite a lot then!” Night Ranger said. “Seriously though, let’s burn rubber! This place is harshing my mellow!”

“Can’t believe I’m helping a Decepticon,” Perceptor mused as he kicked an Eradicon through a wall. “Strange times indeed…”

“We're still on the same team, Doc. Always will be,” Breakdown stated punching out another Eradicon as all of the group made their way outside into a forest clearing high in the mountains. “Believe it or not, I’m tired of all this endless fighting. I just want to see Cybertron at peace. And I’m willing to betray those who I once considered comrades to do it if needs must.”

“Oh really?” a voice asked, and Breakdown halted in fear his gears trembling at the very sound. “You see, that’s very interesting to me indeed,” Onslaught said as he leaped off the top of the Darksyde’s bridge and pulled out one of his rifles. “Because I’m not quite just ready to let you go yet…”

Appearing out of the snow-covered woodlands were the rest of the Combaticons, along with Dead End and Flamewar.

“Get to cover, now!” Breakdown shouted to the humans who didn’t need much prompting.

“Time to regain control over this situation… Decepticons, combine into Bruticus!” Onslaught shouted, and parts began to shift and merge.

“No... No... Please don't.” Breakdown muttered knowing exactly what was coming. Miles and miles away, Knock Out even as he fought off Dropkick heard his sparkmate’s screams of pain through their bond.

“Breakdown… NO!” he thought optics widening in horror and was distracted long enough for Dropkick to well… dropkick him through a barn wooden splinters flying everywhere.

Onslaught’s arms folded up into his shoulders as massive torso armor appeared, almost resembling a pair of wings with Swindle and Dead End transforming into legs, feet appearing from the bottoms of their chassis. 

Brawl meanwhile was cut in a halfway state between robot and vehicular forms as he became an arm for the massive combiner that was rapidly taking shape, the gestalt now easily the size of a skyscraper. Breakdown screamed out in pain and horror as he too was taken in by Onslaught’s order and became Bruticus’ second arm, a massive hand coming out of his body as Flamewar became additional torso armor. Finally, a massive black head with amber eyes and a silver faceplate appeared, Bruticus grunting and groaning as he came online and drawing a massive yellow saber made of hardened energon crystal almost ablaze with flame.

“Me Bruticus… Me Bruticus crush puny Autobots…” Bruticus grunted out as he stepped forward, the ground below him rumbling with every step. Swinging his sword, Road Rage barely just avoided being cleaved directly in half by the massive combiner before she stepped on a mine set up by Onslaught sometime before in case of this situation and was sent flying out of sight.

“...Yeah, and you may just do that…” Prowl admitted realizing that Onslaught had probably planned all of this in advance. He may not have expected the Autobots to arrive today, but he knew they’d come to knock on his doorstep someday soon and therefore had set the battlefield in his advantage. Mines had been placed everywhere, and it was a miracle he or any of his other troops hadn’t been cut down by the autocannons. 

In short, between the base defenses and Bruticus… They were slagged.

Watching this in horror as the massive gestalt slammed Steeljaw into the side of a tree with Bruticus calling out: “Timber!” were the girls. Bruticus continued to laugh as he began carving up the ground with his sword and sending rubble flying every which way.

“It slices, it dices, but wait! There’s more!” he called, a snippet of Swindle’s personality poking through.

“We’ve got to do something…” Trixie whispered. 

“Yeah, but what?” Juniper asked and they could only watch as the slaughter began to unfold before their very eyes...
> Part 31: Beginnings and Endings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ground shook as the gestalts footsteps stomped towards the Autobots. They could only look up in terror at the horrifying sight at this colossal giant, merged at last. They still remembered the horror on Breakdown's face as he was forced into the transformation, now one with Bruticus.

“Bruticus, angry!!!” Bruticus roared at the top of his voice. His eyes hummed with pure energy as he looked down towards the Autobots. “Autobots... DIE!!!”

“Take cover!” Prowl ordered, ushering everyone to jump just before Bruticus' foot came crashing down like a falling tree.

The girls rushed to take cover as well, thankfully saved by the hands of some fellow Autobots.

“Maybe you girls should stay out until you have official safety orange,” Road Rage quipped just before avoiding slammed into a mountainside from the giant's ankle.

Lemon looked back up at Bruticus with a look of horror. “I take back what I said! This isn't fun at all!” she screamed as Bruticus took one massive swing with his Energon Saber.

“...Welcome to my world,” Road Rage muttered, having been able to recover from the mine and was now taking pot-shots at Bruticus’ joints with her rifle. The idea was, hit one of the joints that connected one of the arms or the legs to Onslaught who if you may remember formed the torso and force Bruticus into disassembly. Trouble was, this little idea had been thought of and the joints it turned out were some of the most well-protected parts of the entire gestalt. With a loud rumble, Bruticus turned towards Road Rage grunting out his displeasure and her optics widened. “...Oh boy,” she whispered.

He swung his sword, and Road Rage braced for death but it never came.

CLANG!

Amazingly, using sheer strength or Primus only knew what else Prowl stood holding the Star Saber in both hands and was holding back Bruticus’ own blade. He slid back a few steps in the dirt as sparks flew from both blades as they ground together, Bruticus’ overwhelming might pushing him back. 

“Move it, all of you! Run! Now!” Prowl barked out. “That’s an order!”

“Sorry, but we’re not leaving you to just get slagged!” Road Rage replied still taking a few shots with her rifle at the massive combiner. No effect, but it did seem to slow him down a little.

“But logic dictates that-” Prowl began.

“Screw logic for once. You’re our commander, and we do not leave anyone behind!” Road Rage barked back. “Besides, we owe it to Breakdown at least a little to save him don’t we?” she asked, and up above with a sheer sharp cry the sunlight glinting off her armor Airazor swooped down and fired twin missiles at Bruticus. Amazingly, he staggered backwards long enough for Prowl to pull away from the blade lock.

“Fine… But… But if we live through this you’re all going on report!” Prowl replied. “You’ve all got Petro Rabbits in your logic and self-preservation circuits…” he muttered and if Road Rage didn’t know better she could have sworn she detected a hint of fondness in his tone.

“Noted.” Airazor said before she swooped in for another pass, muttering: “She stoops to conquer…” before she sliced into Bruticus’ armor with her wingtips. 

A powerful backhand from the gestalt sent her crashing into some trees, wings bent at an unnatural angle. 

“You alright?” Juniper asked to the fallen falcon, beginning to tend to her wounds.

“...Been better, but I’ll live. ...By Onyx, this brings back no small amount of memories. Like being in the Gladiatorial Pits, this!” Airazor muttered with no small amount of sarcasm.

“Not sure I really want to know…” Juniper muttered as she took out a medkit. 

“Is there a plan here?” Offroad asked, taking a missile launcher out of… somewhere and firing it at Bruticus making him turn his attention to him. “Or do we plan to just hold this guy off for however long till he slaughters us?”

“Firstly,” Perceptor stated. “Despite a distinct tactical deficiency…” he began as he transformed into his half-track mode. Next, he began driving around Bruticus in circles making the massive Decepticon not sure where to look or who to target.

“In English please?” Trixie requested.

“He means… we’re outnumbered and outgunned!” Sugarcoat stated, having transformed into a second rifle for Road Rage.

“Here, over here you big lug!” Road Rage shouted as she continued firing on the Decepticon, running both left and right to avoid both his weapons and the Autoguns. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m who you want!”

“...We confuse the big lug,” Perceptor stated. “Then, we commence an operation to disassemble him. Madam Spitfire? Can you give us any sort of backup?”

“Sorry!” Spitfire answered tending to Fowler. “Right now… Not a thing I can do. Got stripped of any and all communication devices and even if I had my phone it’d take far too long to scramble anything.”

“Lovely…” Perceptor murmured. “Ah well, I can manage. Howlback, if you don’t mind?” he asked before the felid Predacon leaped out of his front seat and began clambering up Bruticus.

“Kitty… Kitty get off!” Bruticus raged.

“Sorry, no can do big boy!” she laughed, before biting into his connection joints with her sharp claws, creating a small hole. “Now Perceptor!”

“Commenci-” Perceptor stated before a kick from Bruticus knocked him onto his side. “...I seem to have been disabled as of the moment.”

“You have a gift for stating the obvious,” Outback stated and he wanted to try and right the scientist but he then noticed Bruticus striding towards him. “...Oh, Primus...” he muttered before a shot dinged the side of Bruticus’ head.

Smallfoot and Road Rage, rifles in hand were firing on the Decepticon vying for his attention. It worked, and he swung his blade at them. Both dived to the ground even as Outback pulled out a very familiar pistol after righting Perceptor.

“...Is that…?” Howlback trailed off not sure if she could believe her own optics.

“Yes, I do believe it is,” Perceptor stated. “I believe Hound would have wanted someone to have used it even after he died, so I held onto it till I found out whoever would be right to use it. And then Outback came along.”

Outback nodded. “Hound, this is for you mate…” he whispered before firing off a projection. Bruticus’ optics widened at who he saw before him. Massive in size, possibly even taller than Bruticus -and that was no small feat you must understand given the combiner was the size of a small skyscraper himself- and bristling with weapons with a truly titanic Autobot symbol on his chest gleaming as red as the evening sun against a white torso.

“Metroplex heeds the call of the Autobots…” the figure stated in a booming echoing tone walking towards Bruticus. If he were smarter, the combiner would have noticed the figure left no imprints in the ground as a robot of his size was sure to do. But sadly or not depending on one’s perspective, Bruticus was as dumb as a bag of rocks.

Bruticus lurched backwards as Metroplex’s fist closed in on him. He did so long enough for Perceptor’s central rooflight to flip forwards revealing what normally was a shoulder cannon. The cannon fired, and it fired a single silver piercing harpoon into the spot Howlback had ripped open. 

Groaning and straining, Perceptor pulled the giant forwards and eventually Bruticus let out a roar of pain as Breakdown was disconnected from the combination. Crashing to the ground with a thud, Breakdown took the message and transformed into his vehicle mode driving through a nearby groundbridge.

“Alright, we’re moving! We are not staying any longer!” Prowl ordered as everyone followed after him as quickly as they could. “Go, go!” he barked out as the now one-armed Bruticus picked up his fallen sword and began swinging it in a great rage. Metroplex had conveniently vanished, and while Bruticus was stupid he was no fool. Combine this with him losing a limb, and he wasn’t exactly… pleased. Needless to say, retreat was the only viable tactic.

“Get in!” Swerve shouted to the rescued humans as they climbed inside. “Now, let’s go boys go! The faster the better! I don’t want to be around here any longer than I have to be!”

Meanwhile, far and away back in Lebanon, Prya Magna went metal to metal with her former teammate clashing blade with warhammer.

“Look at you, hunting down ancient artifacts,” Dust Up/Shatter mocked. “Isn’t that what you used to do? And now, here you are using one in a way it was almost most certainly meant to be used!”

This much was true, during the time before the war broke out Nominus Prime had assigned Pyra Magna and her team of Autobots to regain lost relics of the Primes hidden away on other worlds. It was a good paying job, even if Pyra hated the bigoted Prime’s spark with a fervent passion. She had been quite happy -even if she never voiced it aloud- when during a political rally he’d been assassinated. Conveniently, the sniper had never been found. Pyra suspected it to be one of her own troops, but she never voiced her suspicions.

“Yes, well… Needs must right?” Pyra asked as she slammed the Forge right into Shatter’s head, a battle mask flipping down over Shatter’s faceplates to avoid serious injury. Didn’t stop her from being sent flying into the ground ripping up a wheat field though.

“Success is a lousy teacher. It seduces smart people into thinking they can't lose,” Shatter asked as she picked herself up off the ground leaking energon. “Isn't… isn't that right Commander?”

“Don't call me that. You don't have the right…” Prya growled.

“Look at yourself,” Shatter remarked having fully embraced her new role as a Decepticon and landing a powerful series of punches that made her former commander stagger back. “You thought you honestly could win forever? Nobody wins forever,” she commented, in a tone that if Pyra didn’t know better she could have sworn Dust Up was talking about herself. You honestly thought you could run and hide? Nobody can hide forever… Our demons, they always catch up to us. You just deluded yourself into thinking yours wouldn’t…”

Nearby, Dropkick and Knock Out were going head to head, with Knock Out spinning his energon prod around in a masterful and downright artful display of ability. Dropkick was amazingly actually on the defensive, knowing full well what kind of pain he’d be in if Knock Out just landed one blow from that prod. He’d sparred with the medic a few times back onboard the Darksyde and he’d seen the effects of that prod on a few unfortunate Decepticons back on Cybertron. 

“Let me ask you this,” Knock Out stated, Dropkick using his wrists to block blows from the energon prod. “What do you get out of becoming a Decepticon, what’d those idiots tell you you’d win? Vortex and Blast Off right? That’s who probably did it am I right?”

“How… How did you…?” Dropkick whispered throwing a punch which Knock Out simply sidestepped out of the way to avoid before kicking Dropkick in the face.

“Oh, I’ve read historical records. The Autobots named Dropkick and Shatter simply vanished from Cybertron on the day the Van De Graaff launched all those years ago. A day I knew all five Combaticons were seen as well. Whatever they told you,” Knock Out stated punching the slightly taller Decepticon in the face. “I’m here to give you your five-o'clock wake up call. Here’s the reality. YOU GET NOTHING! YOU LOSE! GOOD DAY, SIR!” Knock Out shouted finally landing a blow with his energon prod pumping Dropkick full of electricity making him fall backwards. Knock Out snorted. Dropkick… dropped.

“Pyra, we’re pulling out!” Prowl radioed. “We’ve got the humans, rendezvous at the designated coordinates.”

Seeing a Groundbridge open up, Pyra transformed with Knock Out soon to follow. Letting out a scream of rage, Shatter fired her arm cannons into the portal even as it closed. “DAMN YOU!”







Templo Mayor

Deep beneath the old streets of Mexico City rested a familiar den of serpents. Neither Steeljaw, Filch nor Breakdown imagined they’d be returning here anytime soon but yet here they were. Breakdown knew his odd but newfound allies would need a place of refuge and so he had suggested the tunnels below the temple.

“Ugh… Can’t say I’ve been in worse places, but still…” Chrysalis muttered to herself as she stepped out of the groundbridge and into the Predacon tomb.

“Hey, I was in Iraq getting shot at while you were a mere paper-pusher!” Lennox remarked in a teasing tone his rifle resting on his shoulder. “So, this place right here? Well, it’s peanuts compared to over there…”

“...How do you know I was a paper-pusher?” Chrysalis asked. “I could have been doing stuff that would have made your skin crawl…” 

Howlback facepawed before calling out: “Is everyone here? No missing pieces, no leaking energon? Sound off!”

Various beeps and whirs accompanied that, letting her know everyone was still in one piece. Then, another groundbridge opened and weapons were readied before they were soon lowered as Knock Out and Pyra stepped through closing it behind them.

“So, I hear we have you to thank for our new status…” Pyra said, the Forge back to resting on her back. Breakdown visibly flinched at the sight of the massive hammer. Pyra simply chuckled. “Relax, I’m not going to hit you with it. Fact is, we owe you our lives. Perceptor told us enroute that you knew of this location.”

“...Yeah, suppose I did,” Breakdown admitted sheepishly rubbing the back of his head before turning to a familiar face in hopes of making nice. “Knock Out, I-”

“Save it,” the Stunticon muttered still more than a bit miffed that Breakdown had sold out a few of his comrades even if it was to save him. “Not the slightest bit interested in talking to you right now…”

“Oh boy, looks like there’s a bit of trouble in paradise…” Xiraia muttered to herself before asking: “So, question, are we going to stay down here forever, or are we actually going to… y’know, fight back? Row, row! Fight the power, go up against the man and all that?”

“I’m… I’m actually content to stay right down here if you ask me…” Twilight whispered having seen the massive gestalt and the battle that followed. Lemon nodded along in agreement.

“I agree with Twilight… The chances of us going up against that… thing again? I don’t even want to face it, no sir!” Lemon whispered before she stood up. “Why didn’t you tell us the Decepticons could combine? Why didn’t you!?!” she asked, eyes narrowed.

“We… We didn’t know, honest!” Road Rage stated holding her hands up defensively. “We thought with not all of the Combaticons on Earth, it’d be impossible for Onslaught to form Bruticus!”

“Well, I coulda guessed,” Swerve muttered. “It’s like I said to Hound when he was alive, Decepticons are obsessed with combining. Put enough of them in a room… Besides, what did you think would happen Rage? It’s not just the Combaticons we have on Earth, but a few of the Stunticons as well!”

“...I’m… I’m honestly not sure if I want to help you guys in this war anymore,” Lemon whispered. “Not after this. We’ve been becoming irrelevant anyways, as more and more of you guys join the team. Who needs a few super-suited humans when you’ve got metal bodies to just throw at the ‘Cons and back you guys up?”

“Hey, unless you forgot,” Trixie said pointing to Juniper. “It was two super-suited humans Zest, that actually got the Autobots reunited and forming a counterattack against Cemetery Wind and the Decepticons. If you want to go, fine. Door’s that way. But for me and Juniper, we’re going to continue the fight. This is our planet too you know!”

“But-”

“It’s her choice ultimately,” Indigo said softly in support of her girlfriend. “But honestly, whatever she chooses I’ll be cool with it. I go wherever she goes.”

“Indy…” Lemon whispered her lip quivering before she hugged her.

“Hey, if you ask me,” Swerve said. “I may not be happy with all of this, humans getting caught up in the crossfire but kids like you? Well, you keep us honest, remind us exactly what we’re fighting for. So props to you!”

“Yeah, you little guys?” Outback asked. “You’re alright by me. Apologies for what I said earlier, the heat of the moment and all that.”

“Yeah, it’s no biggie,” Trixie said waving him off. “Trixie understands. Us humans weren’t exactly in our best showing were we?” she muttered, ashamed for her race at the moment.

“If Trixie’s staying, I’m staying,” Twilight stated. “Besides, can’t let my girlfriend go off and do something stupid without my guidance first right?”

“...Gee, thanks Sparkle…” Trixie muttered with a hint of fondness in her tone.

“Well, if that’s the case…” Lemon sighed. “If you’re all staying, then so am I. In this all the way, no matter where it takes us. If us little guys keep you honest, then I’m cool with that, and I’m scared yes, but I’m willing to fight for my planet!” 

“Well, aren’t you full of spunk?” a voice asked as a massive winged figure stepped into view. Breakdown and Steeljaw’s optics widened as did Filch’s.

“Thunder Clash!” Filch said hugging the ‘creator deity’ so pleased beyond words to see he was up and about again after his little bout with Onslaught. “I’m so glad you’re alive!”

“Same to you little bird,” Thunder Clash rumbled in that voice of his before he looked around the chamber and shook his head. “...Leave you guys to go off on your own to find a friend of mine -and I see that you did- and what do you come back with?” Thunder Clash asked with in an unreadable tone as he eyed the humans -but not before giving Airazor a fond smile- making everyone very uneasy. “A bunch of above grounders. If I’d known I’d be playing host to guests once more I’d have prepared myself,” he remarked.

“...Uh, who’s he again?” Lemon asked nervously quite intimidated by the massive Predacon. Because really, what else could he be?

“Lemon Zest,” Airazor introduced. “Meet Thunder Clash, or as you humans might know him… Quetzalcoatl.”

“No way…” Lemon whispered in awe as Twilight ran up to the ‘god’ and began asking him a thousand questions speaking about a mile a minute as Trixie chuckled fondly at her girlfriend’s antics.

“Is she… Is she always like this?” Thunder Clash asked, his crystal-blue optics blinking out in confusion. “This small one?”

“Yep. Granted, I can’t say I quite blame her…” Sugarcoat noted as she adjusted her glasses. “Quetzalcoatl himself, in the… er, not quite flesh but you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I can imagine it would be surprising for you humans to learn one of your ancient gods isn’t all he’s quite cracked up to be really…” Thunder Clash chuckled. It was a low rumble that filled the chamber.

“So, this is our life now,” Chrysalis quipped. “Gods and alien robots… Eh, can’t say I’m complaining. Life was starting to get boring before you guys came along really…” she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

Lennox walked up having got off the phone. “Apparently our arrival in Maine and the ensuing battle didn’t go unnoticed. GI Joe satellites picked up your groundbridges and tracked them to here. A team should be arriving within the hour or so.”

“...Lovely, just when I was hoping for some actual peace and quiet.”

“So, we’re running again?” Sunny asked nervously tossing a glance towards her father who was still rather out of it.

“You, soldier! You're out of uniform! Put on some pants!” he barked at nobody in particular.

“No, we give ourselves up,” Prowl stated with a resigned sigh. “We’re done running. We could only do it for so long really… Hopefully we can convince this GI Joe team of yours that we are no threat to humankind or this planet.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure a word or two from us will go a long way, right?” Chrysalis asked, her lips quirked in a small smirk. “That is why you rescued us, is it not?” she asked and Prowl nodded.

“...I see there is a lot I have missed,” Thunder Clash noted crossing his arms before taking a look at the looks exchanged -or lack thereof- between Knock Out and Breakdown.

He walked over to Knock Out, massive footsteps echoing through the chamber.

“Something I should be aware of?” he asked. “I’m not normally one to take an interest in such things but you two… well, you two intrigue me. It’s been a long while since I’ve seen a Sparkmate pair really.”

“...Which is soon to change if I have any say in the matter,” Knock Out huffed and crossed his own arms. Thunder Clash raised an eyebrow before Knock Out sighed and explained the whole sordid affair.

“Did it not occur to you at any point that Breakdown here was trying to protect you?” Thunder Clash asked.

“No… Yes… Well… I…” Knock Out stammered awkwardly. “It’s just, when I heard he sold out his teammates…”

“He was doing it to spare your life. They probably would have killed him, if he did not speak. Then killed you. I’ve seen stranger and more difficult things done for love, believe me. Maybe not this day, maybe not this hour but someday, maybe you’ll find it in your spark to forgive him,” Thunder Clash lectured. “You are a great warrior, even if you never wanted to be. But you’ve still got a lot to learn Knock Out of Cybertron. So ask yourself: do you know it in your head, or just your gut? You're a great fighter, Knock Out. But you have to be more than that to be a great warrior. Sometimes listening is harder than fighting. A true warrior must do both. Think about this, understood?” he continued.

“Yes… Yes, I will…” Knock Out trailed off sparing a glance towards Breakdown. Before anyone could say anything else, the rumble of tank treads and the sound of multiple helicopters was heard somewhere overhead. 

“Within the hour, eh Lennox?” Swerve remarked.

“Guess we better go meet our friends…” Prowl stated. “No matter what happens from here on in, it’s been an honor. I could never ask for a better team,” he said to his troops. “I just want you to know that.”

“Oh, so you do have a heart,” Road Rage laughed. “Who knew?”

As they emerged from the tunnels, the Autobot/Predacon force was met with Mobat Tanks pointing their main cannons at them and Eaglehawks pointing their mini guns at them. A troop transport was being readied for the humans.

Prowl took a deep breath and began holding up his hands in a surrendering motion as Fowler was helped by the Joe member named Lifeline into an ambulance. “I am Prowl, leader of the Autobot Elite Guard of Cybertron and I mean you no harm…”





Miles away, Onslaught’s group was trudging away from the Darksyde, looking upon its distant form from a mountain pass. The roar of human jets -GI Joe Skystrikers- was heard overhead. 

“So, what do we do now?” Flamewar asked her commander.

“Firstly…” Onslaught said pulling out a detonator and pressing down on it making the base explode in one massive fireball that lit up the night sky. “We erase all traces of our presence. Our location is compromised,” he stated transforming into his vehicle mode. “Next, we find a place to hide until a new staging area can be found.”

“And then?” Flamewar asked pulling up alongside him in her motorcycle mode.

“We go on the hunt.” Onslaught chuckled darkly. “I do not intend to let this defeat and humiliation go quietly into that good night. No, the Decepticons will rise up again another day, and on that day there will be no stopping us…”

With that, he drove off into the darkness...

END