Chapter Text
Log·ic
/ˈläjik/
noun
1.
reasoning conducted or assessed according to strict principles of validity.
2.
a system or set of principles underlying the arrangements of elements in a computer or electronic device so as to perform a specified task.
This one word dictated his entire function. Was that in itself logical? He had asked that question everyday since the senate lackeys took his face and his emotions. But in the end, he reasoned that the Senate was a flawed body of mechs who did not have the capacity to rule a just as flawed society. Why should he think they were logical in turning him into this? If he could feel emotion, he’d have felt disgust. He knows he did once. But that was a time reserved for a much kinder Shockwave. A Shockwave teetering on the edge of what was strictly ethical, yes, but kinder nonetheless.
The lone yellow optic swept across the expanse of his domain. Darkmount. A citadel of power and scientific progress. The only place on Cybertron with even halfway working facilities. It was here he created his inventions, conducted his experiments, and defended the newly constructed spacebridge in the plaza below. This had been his place of sovereignty for over 5 million years. 4 of those millenia he was alone, left to hold an abandoned Cybertron and its grandest city, Iacon. It was… lonely. If he could feel that.
In all that time, Shockwave had never stopped holding out the possibility of Megatron returning. He knew that one day, the warlord would come back and Cybertron would be theirs. A corpse perhaps, but it would be theirs to start anew.
Shockwave was a brilliant scientist. Quite mad, yes, but brilliant. His experiments blew past the realm of ethics in lieu of technological progress and with that came the power to control a planet. Cybertron was his to do with as he pleased. But there was no real logic in ruling a dead world by himself. So, he began to build Megatron an army. Mindless drones that did not tire, did not sleep, nor felt any kind of fear. The perfect specimen if it had a spark, truth be told.
All was progressing quite nicely, (It would have gone faster had the Femmes not been sabotaging him for millions of years.) when Megatron finally called. His Lord and Master once thought dead, the mech that saved him from the prison the Senate had tossed him in. Megatron had given his servo and Shockwave had given his spark. It was the only logical thing to do. The gladiator had power. And with that power, he tore down the institutions which made Senator Shockwave into a monster.
Now here they were at the end of it all. A real chance at reviving their planet with an army to defend it with. What were the sacrifices of a few mechs to save their entire species? And with complete control of the Well, they could mold a new generation of Cybertronians to their will. Their race would be saved and the Decepticons would rule their empire with an iron fist, Megatron at its head. Once upon a time, Shockwave might have felt horror at all he had done in the name of the Decepticon cause, but now he felt nothing but satisfaction in a job well executed.
This was logical. A new age without war. All because Shockwave obeyed and delivered. Unlike certain SICs, he knew the true meaning of loyalty. He would follow Megatron no matter the depths of insanity the warlord dug for himself. Shockwave was practically there at the bottom anyway.
The Senate could not have known what they had created, but such is the way of creators.
“Sir, the perimeter relays detected movement in Sector 4 three minutes ago,” reported Scrapper, his voice monotone and stiff. There was no trace of the mech he was before, just an improved version of what all of Cybertron could be.
Shockwave looked at the readout on his instruments. There on the screen were a dozen or so energy readings moving quickly towards the spacebridge. It seemed the fearsome Elita-1 was attempting to take their side of the bridge.
“Curious,” Shockwave said, just as monotone. “It seems the Femmes are eager to walk into our awaiting servos. Take the rest of your team and wait for orders at the edge of Sector 5. I will meet you there shortly.”
“Yes, Master.” Scrapper bowed and walked away.
Shockwave waited until he was out the door before pulling up data recordings on the main console. ‘No further indication of side effects. Treatment yields 97% success rate,’ he typed. Quite the achievement if he said so himself. A week ago the Constructicons were fighting him, attempting to realign their bond through sheer force of will and spite. But these efforts were ultimately for naught. A few more hits with the spark scrambler and all resistance was quelled immediately. No amount of combiner code was enough to overcome his genius.
Still, Devastator was missing a key component. That's why it was an incredible discovery when, while tinkering with Mixmaster’s open processor, Shockwave found he could manually override the ‘bond speak’ of the combiner team. A few typed commands and Hook was all but assured to make his way to Cybertron.
What troves of information could he rip out of that neon green brute! The possibilities were endless! A whole gestalt under his complete control! And all it took were a few lines of code.
Who knew? With all the data being collected and the Well being reactivated, he could very well forge his own combiner team.
Shockwave closed the program and made his way to the lifts. Everything was proceeding according to plan. Megatron was already in position at the modified spacebridge and waiting for the Prime to arrive.
One way or another, this war was coming to an end today.
…
Rain came down in icy slats against his armor. Air Raid would have shivered if he was in his bibedal mode. A command onlined his de-icers as he flew at the front of the formation. His left wing sensed Nosedive keeping pace while his right told him Drifter was veering a bit off course. Air Raid opened the broad band channel of his comms.
:Keep formation mechs, we’re 5 klicks out from San Fransisco:
:Roger Wilco: replied Nosedive.
Drifter spat out a bit of static that sounded suspiciously like ‘frag you’.
:Hey! You got a problem ‘Con?:
Drifter slotted back into formation before pulling ahead.
:Matter of fact I do. What makes you so special that they made you squad commander? You’re practically a sparkling!:
:Shut up, Drifter, and get back in formation: radioed Nosedive. Her EM field was held tight to her plating, but trace amounts of unease could be heard from her comm.
:No! I want an answer! My trine are the most seasoned besides Skylight and his, so why are my wingmates on the other side of the fragging planet while I’m stuck sparklingsitting?!!:
A staticy transmission appeared on all their HUDs
:Charlie Squad, this is Hound. Transport sensors are reading bogies on your three, repeat, bogies on your three:
:Roger Transport: replied Air Raid. The early morning light of dawn was breaking through the stormclouds. The city ahead of them still had their lights blinking as humans made their way out of the city. San Fran was built over fault lines and this was going to get ugly real fast.
Their vision was suddenly obscured as they passed through a dense cloudfield and when they came out through the other side, the grids were winking out one by one. An electric field of crackling energy began to form around the downtown area, growing in size until it suddenly began to swirl upwards. A cyclone of raw electricity was formed as the dark stormclouds returned with a vengeance. The sky turned dark, the sun no longer visible and all was illuminated by the technological monstrosity before them.
:They launched early. They know we’re coming: Nosedive said nervously. She fortified her will and onlined her weapons systems. All of the fliers’ radars lit up with two blips of enemy inbound.
Air Raid steadied himself and sent out one more burst of love/staysafe/excitement through Superion’s bond. Then he activated his comm to the squad channel.
:Weapons systems on. Stay close and watch your wings. First priority is disabling the satellite. Nosedive, you divert their attention, Hound, you and the ground team get to a building and start shooting them out of the sky. Drifter, you’re with me. I’ll keep em busy while you start blasting away at the plasma shielding:
The blips were racing closer and closer to their airspace.
:Roger, Commander: came Nosedive’s confirmation.
:Like pit I’m taking orders from a bot barely 4 stellar cycles old!:
The Aerialbot could have laughed. :You seekers really don’t get it do you? You guys might have grown up in a war, but me and my brothers? We were built for it:
The enemy seekers were right on top of them. Bolts of energy and bullets rained down upon Charlie Squad and they peeled away from each other, the ex-Decepticons shooting off in either direction while Air Raid pulled up suddenly and twisted midair. He flew up at the enemy and fired round after round as he passed. Bullet holes punched through wings and with a smooth transformation sequence, he cut his thrusters and fell on top of the blue colored seeker’s wing. Hands grasped the appendage and he yanked as hard as he could, throwing the jet off course. Another transformation back into alt mode and he sped off quick as a bullet while the seeker lost control and crashed into his friend. Both enemy planes screeched as they collided and left smoke trails as they careened uselessly to the ground below.
Air Raid went back to their established flight pattern, his two wingmates returning to their positions. :And I’m five, actually:
:Roger Wilco, Commander!: came two sets of comms. Air Raid expanded his sensor net and realized with smug satisfaction that Drifter was in perfect formation now.
‘Alright, let’s get this party started,’ he thought and sped off towards San Francisco's Downtown.
…
Another shell blasted the building to Ironhide’s right, dust and debris raining down upon him as he activated his comm.
:Slingshot!: cried the weapons specialist. :Ah thought ah told you jets to take care of those turboguns!:
:krzzzzt-orry ‘Hide! We’re doing our krzzzt-best out here, but they just keep outmaneuvering us! krzzzt:
:Well, think of something quick! We’re krzzzzt-getting slagged out here!: Ironhide cut the line and popped back over the rubble he was using as cover. His rifle shot off scorching bolts of plasma to the Decepticons on the other side of the bridge. Paris, the city usually lit up to the nines, was a dark battlefield. The only source of light, their blasters and the tornado of electric death at the top of the eiffel tower. Their proximity to it was messing with their comms despite Teletran’s long range assistance.
Ironhide heard the CHOOM of a blast coming for them and tackled Sunstreaker to the ground as it hit. Chunks of buildings exploded over their heads and dented their plating.
“Sunny!? You ok?” yelled Ironhide, audials ringing. The yellow bot underneath him shifted and gave a thumbs up as he groaned dramatically. The weapons specialist rolled his optics and got back up. Above him, the roar of engines was deafening as Slingshot and his team of seekers shot past in a bombing run. Ironhide had to cover his eyes from the light of the explosion. Cheers erupted from the frontliners around him. A smirk caught his lips as he gave out a whoop of victory.
“Come on you firecrackers! Let’s show ‘em how it’s done!”
Frenzied mechs on a mission quickly made either way across the bridge and over the Seine. Sidswipe popped out of nowhere and hauled his twin to his feet. “C’mon Sunny! We got some Jet Judo to dish out!”
“Ugh, fine,” complained Sunny. “But I’m gonna need a serious polish after this.” The twins ran off ahead of him and Ironhide could only chuckle as he followed them into the fray.
…
“All teams: Report,” came the synthesized monotone voice of Soundwave. The Cybertron team was almost to the Earthside Spacebridge. A few more minutes and it would be visible on scanners.
:Krrrzzzzt: Air Raid reporting in! We have visual of the satellite in San krzzzt- Fran! There’s a tornado made of electricity forming-krzzzt in downtown! Enemy engaged and we-: The sound of an explosion overpowered whatever Air Raid was about to say. :KRRRRZZZSSHHHTTT-DRIFTER!!: The young bot sounded frantic, opening another local channel. :Drifter is down! Repeat, Drifter is down, medic at my location, now!: He switched back to the command frequency. :I gotta go. We’re making another run. Give ‘em Pit!:
The line went dead and Soundwave went on to the next one. He received similar chaos-filled reports from Ironhide in France, Fireflight in Antarctica, and Jazz in Greenland. All described the same electric phenomena. Soundwave retracted the antenna from the portable communications radio. This was supposed to be the last check in before they would lose contact with Earthside. Once they made it to Cybertron, it was Soundwave’s objective to reestablish radio contact through the long range comms on Darkmount’s main consoles.
With Earth’s grids going out, The Ark remained the only reliable source of communication thanks to Teletran-1. Radio contact was crucial here. They needed live updates worldwide to determine when to destroy the main machine on Cybertron. Timing was everything.
That’s why Sparkplug, Spike and Carly were helping Red Alert handle the fluctuating frequencies and monitoring the planet’s core temperature. It was their only warning for when the satellites shifted targets.
Or at least, that was the plan anyway.
A channel from the Ark lit up on the radio’s display. Soundwave answered and was met with the older human male angrily screaming from the other side.
“Where the hell is he!? Where is my son!?”
Soundwave nearly flinched at the human’s loud voice. It could give Starscream a run for his money. “Soundwave: Assures there is no human aboard.”
“Oh yeah? Wanna confirm that Bee?!”
All eyes turned to the yellow scout who was doing his damdest to shrink into the shadows of Skyfire’s cabin. “Uhh, I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sparkplug.”
“B-127,” rumbled Optimus as he moved from his seat to his ward, suspicion on his unmasked faceplate.
“Ohhh slag, factory designation,” snickered Ratchet. Some of the ground troops joined in as they watched the minibot mutter something about ‘you owe me big time.’ Bumblebee looked away from Prime as he opened his main compartment.
“Come on out Spike, the jig is up,” he sighed.
Spike popped his head out from Bee’s passenger seat window before jumping to the floor of Skyfire’s hold. “Aw man, I thought we’d at least make it to the space bridge before we got caught.”
“Wilson Spike Witwicky!” Shouted Sparkplug from the radio. “You get your ass back here right now or so help me God!”
Bumblebee coughed to hide his laughter. “Your real name is Wilson?”
“Shut up, B-127!” Spike hissed. To his father he said, “Hey, Dad! Funny story actually…” The two humans then began yelling at each other, one demanding that Skyfire turn around and the other claiming it was too late. Optimus Prime on the other hand was scolding Bumblebee.
“What were you thinking! Spike can’t come to Cybertron! It’s too dangerous!”
“But Op,” argued the minibot, “It’s his planet! Shouldn’t he get the chance to fight for it too? He just wants to help.”
“And how would he do that in the middle of a battle with giant mecha? Cybertron is no place for a small organic, Bee. He could get stepped on!”
“That’s why we brought this!” Bumblebee reached into his subspace and pulled out what looked like an exosuit. “Wheeljack cooked it up ages ago so we could go drag racing at night… which I’m just now realizing you didn’t know about.” From behind Optimus, Wheeljack slapped a servo to his forehead. There goes ‘boys' night.’
“Minibots and their big mouths,” muttered the inventor.
“Bee,” sighed Optimus, “You can’t just go behind my back like this. Sparkplug is livid and frankly, I am disappointed in you.”
The scout looked down in shame at that. “We just wanna help.”
“Oh, Bee.”
Skyfire’s speakers crackled to life. “Uhhm, sorry to interrupt,” said Skyfire. “But we’re almost within range of their scanners. Everybody get ready.”
Everyone began undoing their crash webbing as Spike walked up to Optimus with the communicator.
“My Dad wants to talk to you.”
Optimus took it and switched it over to his private comm. “Sparkplug, I am so sorry-”
“Ah, save it, Prime. Kids right?”
“On that I can sympathize,” Prime shot a glare over at Bee who shrunk as he put his parachute on.
“Just promise me you’ll look after him, alright?” Sparkplug said softly. “He’s all I have left.”
The leader of the Autobots could almost hear his spark break. “Sparkplug, I give you my word as a Prime and as a caretaker that no harm will come to Spike.”
…
“I believe you.” A few hundred miles away, Sparkplug cut the line and put his head in his hands. Carly, in an attempt to comfort the man, put her hand on his shoulder as he quietly sobbed.
…
Spike caught Optimus’ attention. “I’m really sorry about lying to you, Optimus, but this is something I gotta do. I can’t just sit back as my world dies. I have a feeling you know what that feels like.”
A heavy vent came from the Prime as he studied the young man. ‘Such bravery in a tiny being,’ admired Optimus. “I do, Spike. More than you know.”
“If it makes you feel any better, Dad said I’m basically grounded until I die, which might be today, so… small victories?”
“Ha,” huffed Optimus dryly. “Your father is a wise man. Get into your suit. You are to stay close to myself and Bumblebee, is that clear?”
“Totally, Op!” The tiny human pumped his fist in the air once before rushing to get into his suit.
“See, Optimus, it all worked out!” chimed Bumblebee. Optimus’ engine rumbled low as he began putting on his own parachute.
“Don’t think you’re out of the clear, young scout. You are also grounded until you die.”
“What!?”
Skyfire’s voice cut off the conversation as he shouted, “Hold on to something!” In the next instant Skyfire had banked hard to the right, turbulence rattling the cabin. “This is it! The Spacebridge is right below us!” Skyfire proceeded to open his hatch.
“Seekers!” called Skylight. “Time to stretch our wings!” Without another word, Skylight dove out of Skyfire’s hold and into the open air of the Nevada desert.
…
Freefall was a treat when you weren’t getting shot out of the sky. It was the feeling of being lighter than a feather and the incredible exhilaration as the ground came rushing up to meet you. Fear was a foreign concept to a seeker in the sky. It was as natural as transforming itself. Switching into alt-mode mid air, Skylight damn near broke the sound barrier as he sped towards the Space Bridge. Noting his sensors, he could see the grounders all tumbling out of Skyfire and Silverbolt’s cabins while the seekers gracefully dove into the sky.
Skylight’s battle protocols onlined and everything came into sharp clarity. The wind resistance, the speed he was flying at, the air pressure and the mecha all around him. Every minute detail was recorded through the millions of delicate sensors of Skylight’s wings. Radar indicated 4 enemy fliers to the North and Northeast.
:Silverbolt, we have incoming:
:Roger: replied the Aerialbot. :You and the seekers clear a path. Skyfire and I will cover the ground forces:
:Roger Wilco:
…
Elita-1 spat out a mouthful of energon. The neon pink life blood of their species camouflaged against her battered armor. She was cuffed and forced to her knees by two of the Constructicons. She couldn’t honestly tell who was who. To her unfamiliar eye, all she saw was the lime green and purple paint of Devastator.
Her squad was restrained as she was. Those not cooling on the ground that is. Chromia still struggled against her own Constructicon captors, but a quick stab from an electro prod stopped all attempts at escape. She slumped forward and the two minions dragged her semi-conscious frame next to Elita and Megatron.
The warlord, with Eita’s energon still staining his hand, grabbed the leader’s chin plate and forced her to look up at him.
“You are a fierce warrior, Elita-1. I regret this is the way we finally meet.”
Elita jerked her helm out of his hand and spat in his gunmetal face. He wiped it away gently and smirked. “You’re exactly like he always said you were.” The smile fell from his face and turned into a scowl. “We would have been good friends.”
Tridex Square was to be their battle ground. Iacon was an empty husk and its grandest city park was nothing more than rusted metal and broken memories. Megatron remembers a time where the soft hands of an archivist were entangled in his. The ghost of lips touching his was a phantom pain. Now only blood remained.
The Space Bridge was transported outside of Darkmount and modified, rebuilt here in the dead center of Iacon. Elita and her femmes had tried their best, but Shockwave had them outnumbered with the help of his drones. All that was left was to wait patiently for the rest of the Autobots to arrive.
“Sir,” rasped Ramjet as he limped to the front of the square.
Megatron glanced behind him and his scowl deepened. To the Constructicons he said, “Get them into position. And don’t be lighthanded with the electro prod.” Elita and Chromia were dragged away, both hissing insults and profanities at him, then silenced with their screams as electricity surged through their frames. Megatron did not turn to face Ramjet.
“Report.”
The seeker cleared his intake. “Word from Earthside indicates the Autobots are inbound.”
“And Prime?”
“Confirmed to be leading.”
“Good.”
Ramjet made a small noise in the back of his intake. Megatron’s optics narrowed and he finally turned to see Ramjet standing tall, but shaking nonetheless.
“What?” growled the warlord.
“Our forces also report that… that- D- Decep-”
“SPIT IT OUT!”
“The traitors are helping them!” Ramjet could barely keep his voice from breaking into static, fear coating his entire frame. “Thundercracker and Skywarp are with them! And Soundwave and his stupid brats and even the deserter mechlings!” He cowered before his lord and covered his face as if to protect it from a massive fist. But no blow ever came. After a moment of silence, save for the pounding of his spark, Ramjet gambled on a glance upward.
Megatron towered above him, staring into the distant skyline of Iacon. He had a frown on his faceplate, but no anger nor cruelty. “No Starscream?” he asked softly.
“N-no my lord,” croaked the conehead.
“Hmm. Pity. I would have liked to kill him properly this time.” Megatron began to walk away, not even sparing a second look to the shaking jet behind him. He paused for a moment, still not looking at Ramjet, and in the calmest, most casual way possible said,
“Ramjet? Do yourself a favor. Put a gun in your intake and pull the damn trigger.”
And then he walked away.
The white seeker watched his lord’s form disappear over the ridge to the square below and collapsed to his knees gasping. Ramjet hadn’t let out a single vent the entire time and struggled to keep air circulating through his overheating frame. Everything was so fragged. So fucking fragged!
Control was slipping through his servos like water. The Air Force was no longer his, Megatron declaring him unfit. Dirge was still in stasis lock and showed no signs of waking up. Thrust was fucking dead and all they did was scrap his body for fucking parts! The bond of his trine was shattering before him and he didn’t know what to do!
Ramjet could feel his spark beating out of his chassis and his vents were picking up in shallow rasps. His injuries from before were barely patched and everything hurt like slag. The indents of Megatron’s servos were still on his wings. On instinct he reached to his cracked bond and only succeeded in freaking himself out more when nothing reached back. Dirge’s end was fraying at the edges, the strings tying them together slowly unraveling.
Oh Primus. He was alone. He was alone and had nothing. Ramjet dug through his subspace with trembling hands and took out his blaster. He held it in front of him and stared at it, his eyes unseeing. The barrel moved an inch before Ramjet was rudely interrupted by Knockout.
“You folded that quick, huh?”
Ramjet whipped his helm to his right where the medic leaned against the railing. “What the slag are you doing here, traitor?” he ground out.
Knockout let out another huff and rolled his optics. “Trust me, I’m not here by choice. Big M thinks I’d be more useful here and is keeping Breakdown hostage to make sure I behave.” He looked at the gun and then at Ramjet's dull optics. “You’re not as tough as you look, you know. Starscream heard that line every other week.”
“What the pit do you know about it?”
“Oh please,” scoffed the medic. “Screamer wouldn’t let just anyone touch that finish and I take payment in gossip. Besides, I’m the only medic not currently being paraded like a puppet. Or would you rather be patched up by one of those things?” The Aston Martin stuck his chin out to the Constructicons standing vigil over the femmes. “Might as well be drones at this point.” He frowned, regret painting his voice. “Hook tried to tell me something was wrong, but I couldn’t find anything. I should have seen it.”
“Why the hell would you care?”
Knockout gave Ramjet a mean glare. “I may not have actual credentials, but I am a medic, you know. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t really like seeing my mechs turned into scrap…Including your stupid aft.”
“After everything?” whispered Ramjet. The gun was still in his hands, held tightly. Knockout sighed and looked up into the sky, Cybertron’s two moons in the distance.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Ramjet. Megatron used you to play his insane game and now here we are.” Knockout was tired. He was more tired than he’d ever been in his entire function and it showed. His frame was unbuffed and paint chipped. He hadn’t had the chance to do anything about it before the coup attempt. He brought his gaze down to the skyline of Iacon. Primus, he missed Breakdown. “We’re just pawns. We always have been. And when this is all over, we’ll still be his to control. You sure helped it along, but none of this was your fault. You were just stupid enough to think you had actual power.”
Ramjet said nothing. He was too caught up in Knockout’s words to notice when the mech had left. A pawn. That’s all he was. A stupid, foolish pawn who thought he was the one in charge. Did Starscream know it was all a ruse? He was second in command, surely that meant he was worth something? But Megatron still tried to kill him. Pit, even Soundwave wasn’t safe. Soundwave! So what hope did the rest of them have? Thrust was dead and that brute hadn’t even spared a glance. The conehead was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. None of the Decepticons meant anything to that monster.
Fear had kept him silent about the plan to reignite Cybertron. Hunger made him believe it was worth it. Desire for power had left him with nothing.
‘Well,’ he thought as he stood on trembling pedes. ‘I guess Screamer had the right idea after all.’
…
Something was wrong. Prowl could feel it in his lines as his tac-net spat probability after probability at him. This was too easy. The space bridge should have been crawling with Decepticons, but there was barely a skeleton crew.
Another plasma bolt whizzed past his helm. Ducking down, he peered over the boulder he was hiding behind and scoped across the canyon. Metal glinting in the morning sun gave the mech’s position away and Prowl fired. The Decepticon sniper fell from the ridge into the canyon below.
It was too easy.
Most of the Decepticons were down for the count or willingly surrendering. Prowl nodded to Perceptor and both made their way to the Space Bridge where the rest of their party were regrouping.
Soundwave had a hand to his helm, radio frizting in his servos. “Soundwave: Is detecting long range communication from Cybertron. It is too faint to properly get a clear transmission. Suspicion: Lazerbeak attempting to break through.”
“It’s a warning,” said Prowl. All optics turned to him. Optimus nodded to the scientists to continue booting up the Space Bridge.
“Explain, Prowl,” nodded the Prime.
“This was too easy. It’s a trap, Optimus. They’re likely waiting for us.”
“Soundwave: Agrees.”
The bridge controls suddenly lit up, Wheeljack calling out to them. “Those bastards locked the coordinates with an override. We’re gonna end up in Tridex Square!” The metallic archway hummed to life as a swirling green portal appeared before them.
Optimus frowned underneath his battle mask. “Has there been any word from Elita-1?”
Soundwave sent a ping to the ark for a report. A moment later, he said, “Negative. Nothing since before engaging Shockwave’s forces.”
Optimus was silent for a minute. Communications were likely jammed on the other side. Elita was a fearsome warrior, but numbers could outdo even the most seasoned of mecha. “We do not have a choice,” he said finally. “The satellites are already operational. Trap or not, our path is clear.”
"We're with you Optimus!” cried Spike. “No matter what!”
A glance around assured Prime that everyone was in agreement. He turned to Prowl again.
“Strategy?”
Prowl nodded, still anxious. “We’ll likely be surrounded the second we step out. Wheeljack, Perceptor and Skyfire are priority. The younger seekers and Silverbolt will fly in first, distracting the air force and keeping them off our backs. Frontliners next, shielding the scientists with Soundwave and the Elite Trine after that. Bumblebee will take the rear with Spike and Hook. Skywarp.”
Thundercracker flicked his wings, slapping the purple jet to attention.
“You will teleport the science team to the satellite and cover them.”
Skywarp winced. “I can warp two mechs at the same time easy, 3 with effort, but Big Guy over here,” he pointed to Skyfire, “Counts as two. It’s gonna take a lot outta me.”
“We’ll cover you as best we can. Thundercracker, your mission is Soundwave. Get him to Darkmount as quickly as possible and re-establish communication with Earthside.” Prowl nodded to Optimus who gave one of his own.
“Positions,” came the rumbling voice. Everyone slotted into place and Optimus took one last vent before charging forward. The young jets screamed overhead and passed through with a deafening roar of engines. The Prime crossed the threshold of the bridge and felt as his molecular structure was disassembled atom by atom and put back together on the other side of the galaxy.
His pede made contact with a rusted surface and he raised his blaster into position, finger on the trigger. He could hear the others come through the bridge behind him, but he hardly registered it as his spark froze in its casing.
Elita-1 was on her knees, blaster to her helm and energon staining the delicate features of her faceplate. Chromia was beside her in a similar position. The Constructicons were emotionless, still as statues as they held the guns in place. Drones surrounded them with Shockwave and Megatron standing on a raised platform in front of Satellite Alpha.
The fliers rushed above them as they were chased by the Rainmakers.
Shockwave pulled a lever on the Satellite’s main console and the space bridge manually dematerialized.
They were stranded on Cybertron.
…
Soundwave could have sang in relief the microsecond he stepped through the bridge. The previously muffled bond with Lazerbeak hit him full force and it nearly made him stagger with how strong the emotions were.
‘Soundwave?!’ cried Lazerbeak through the bond.
‘I’m here,’ soothed the tape deck. ‘We’re coming to get you. Location.’
‘I’m in Darkmount with Breakdown. Boss, it’s a trap-’
‘We know.’ Soundwave sent over a wave of comfort and calm. ‘Everything will be alright.’
Lazerbeak didn’t have the spark to tell him she felt his fear.
…
Optimus Prime took a step forward. He locked eyes with Megatron.
“Is this truly how you intend to end this, old friend?” he shouted across the square. “With the death of all we fought for?”
Megatron stood silent for a moment before activating his cannon. “Both our causes perished millennia ago,” boomed the warlord. “Cybertron will be mine and you will fall today, Optimus Prime.”
:Do you have clear shots of the Constructicons holding Elita and Chromia?: Prime commed to Perceptor and Prowl.
:Yes: replied Percy.
:Affirmative: said Prowl.
“It doesn’t have to end this way, Megatron,” Optimus pleaded one last time. He subspaced his blaster and activated his battle ax. “Peace is always an option.”
The fusion cannon was raised, aimed directly where the Matrix resided.
Once upon a time, there was a miner and an archivist. They held hands in the square they now stood in.
“Death is the only option for us, Prime.” The light of destruction bathed his gunmetal faceplate in a violet glow.
:On my mark:
“So be it.”
Megatron fired.
:Now!:
Time slowed down.
With a yell, Optimus drew on the power of the Matrix within him and channeled it to the ax, the weapon brightening until it was almost white.
Scrapper and Mixmaster fell to the ground as their armor was blasted apart. Somewhere, Hook screamed.
Ramjet came out from behind Megatron and tackled him. The two tumbled from the platform to the square proper and hit the ground hard.
The blast from the cannon sailed to its mark. Optimus used the broad side of his Matrix charged ax to take the brunt of the blast.
The explosion boomed in the square, the shockwave knocking everyone in direct vicinity down. Dust and debris flew everywhere as the air charged with static.
Time sped up again and hell broke loose.
…
Soundwave hit the side of a building shoulder first. He grit his dentae against the pain as he slid to the floor, then threw himself to the side as a shot hit the spot his helm was. With his good arm he shot back, the drone falling dead with a hole in its helm.
“Thundercracker! Location!?” he shouted. The blue seeker suddenly appeared next to him, helping him up and wincing at the damage on his shoulder.
“You ok?”
“I’m fine,” growled Soundwave. “We have to get to Darkmount.”
Thundercracker nodded and together they raced their way across the square, away from the main battle to the menacing tower. It wasn’t long before more drones were deployed however, as Darkmount’s security protocols were engaged. From every opening in the tower’s structure, drones activated. Wave after wave of autonomous securitrons fired upon them, the plasma sizzling hot.
“We’re outnumbered!” cried Thundercracker as he shot his nullrays.
“No, we’re not,” said Soundwave. “Cassettes: Eject!” One after the other, the minicons transformed out of their carrier’s new chest compartment. “Operation: Destroy.”
Rumble grinned as he transformed out his pile drivers. “You got it, Boss!” The ground began to break apart, steel cracking like glass underneath Rumble’s powerful seismic shifts. Drones fell through the crevices and were crushed to bits as the ground was reshaped. Whole buildings, already crumbling apart, smashed to the ground on top of a whole squad.
Frenzy used his sonic outlier to short circuit the comm units in a group of drones. The feedback caused the overloaded units to explode out the side of their empty helms. The securitrons crumpled to the ground, deactivated yet still twitching. Frenzy shot anything that moved just to make sure it was really dead.
Ravage for her part simply tore apart any drone that came close to her. Claws ripped through black armor, shredding it like paper. She clamped her powerful jaws around throats and yanked out components, the parts still sparking in her razor sharp teeth.
“Path to Darkmount: Clear.” Soundwave charged forward with his cassettes following, wrecking even more havoc the closer they got to the tower.
Thundercracker could only stare in the wake of the terror of a family, standing with his nullrays raised and mouth open in absolute shock.
“Are ya coming or not, TC?!” called Frenzy over his shoulder.
The jet shook his head to clear it and ran after them. “I’m never complaining about another goddamn prank,” he muttered to himself.
…
“Skywarp, get to the receiver!" yelled Prowl.
Warp practically launched himself at Skyfire. Wheeljack and Percy barely had time to scramble their way to the jet before purple tendrils of electricity wound around the seeker’s frame. The moment their hands touched Skywarp’s plating, they VOPPED out of existence.
And reappeared on the platform right next to Shockwave.
The one eyed scientist raised his arm cannon, lining his sights to Skywarp’s slumped form against Wheeljack, but before he could fire, a massive white servo crushed the weapon/appendage. Shockwave cried out in pain and was then punched clear off the platform by Skyfire’s other fist, the purple mech yelling the entire way down to the square
“Damn, bigguy,” slurred Skywarp. “Thought you wre a passfist?” His head lolled to the side, optics fighting to stay open.
“Why does everyone think that?” asked Skyfire. “Just because I avoided fights at the Academy doesn’t mean I couldn’t crush any bot I wanted, you know!”
“Later, Skyfire!” Wheeljack helped Skywarp to his feet and started slapping his face. “Wake up, Skywarp! We need ya, buddy!” But the seeker could barely keep his optics open.
“Jus gimmie a sec, nrd,” Skywarp mumbled. The next second he went limp as he fell into recharge.
“Great! Now what?!” exclaimed Wheeljack, his finials lighting up brightly in panic as a squad of troops made their way to them. They had seconds before they’d be pinned.
BANG! A shot rang out and the drone at the forefront of the squad dropped dead with a hole in his visor. All eyes turned to Percy, rifle still smoking.
“You and Skyfire start the override procedures, I’ll cover you,” he said calmly as his scope slid over his right optic. Perceptor lined up another shot and fired, aim swift and deadly.
After recovering from the initial shock, the remaining scientists got to work, Skyfire pulling up code and typing in override commands as fast as he could while Jackie ripped open the satellite's side panel and started disassembling its guts. From the plans obtained by Soundwave, this Satellite Alpha was the main receiver for the stolen energy to reignite the planet’s core. Once in the air, it would channel the combined raw power of Earth’s energy and Cybertronian sparks, blasting it into the metallic crust.
“Since when was Percy so good with a gun?” asked Skyfire as he worked. To his knowledge, Perceptor was the sweetest, most polite, mild mannered bot he’d ever known. Now he was calmly blasting anything that moved with a precision only seasoned mechs possessed.
Wheeljack laughed. “Trust me, there’s more to him than meets the eye, kid."
…
Megatron landed on top of him, the warlord’s heavy frame practically crushing Ramjet. A gunmetal fist raised and made contact with his face, energon spewing from his olfactory. The other fist hit the side of his face, a loud CRACK telling him his helm spilt open.
“You moronic fool!” Growled Megatron, optics alight with blind rage. “Traitors, all of you!”
Underneath the torrent of blows, Ramjet managed to shift his shoulder gun under Megatron’s abdomen and fired.
Megatron was blasted backwards, but transformed into his tank mode before he hit the ground. The muzzle of the barrel glowed violet and Ramjet scrambled to get up, the world tilting dangerously to the side. His HUD was lighting up like Christmas with warnings, he could barely see. He dove out of the way just in time, but was still close enough to feel the paint bubbling on his plating from the shot. The building behind him was blown to bits, steel beams melting and foundations crumbling. Ramjet shook his head to clear it, energon bleeding from his helm blurring his optics. He tried to stand.
In the next instant Megatron swung his heavy arm to slam the conehead to the floor and stomped a pede onto a wing. Ramjet screamed in pain, delicate sensors crushed.
“Tell me Ramjet, what finally made you decide to follow in Starscream’s footsteps?” A punch to his canopy shattered the glass into tiny shards.
“Y-you killed Thrust,” Ramjet gasped. Energon bubbled up from his intake. “I can f-feel Dirge offlining on the other s-side of the galaxy.” He locked optics with Megatron and held his gaze with pure spite. “You took everything from me.”
Megatron snarled. He reached down, hooked his fingers under Ramjet’s cockpit and pulled. The seeker’s vocalizer popped static, screaming himself hoarse as the entire compartment was ripped from his chest. Bare protoform was all that prevented Ramjet’s spark chamber from being out in the open.
“All you had to do was follow orders, Ramjet.” The fusion cannon whined online. “Be an obedient little pawn and you could have lived to see me rise up to usher in a new era of Decepticon rule.”
“I’m not y-your s-slagging pawn, b-buckethead.”
“Hmm, I suppose you’re right,” mused Megatron. The cannon hovered directly over Ramjet’s spark. “You’re not even worth that.”
Ramjet closed his eyes and waited for the blast, but it never came. Onlining his visual feed, glitchy as it was, he could see Megatron’s attention was caught by something across the square.
A strange expression marred the silver features. The look of a mech possessed by the hunger in his eyes and a desperation built from memories of a life destroyed. Megatron lifted his pede and walked away, fusion cannon still charged.
Ramjet tuned his head as the black spots in his vision began to consume his feed. The Prime was being helped up by the yellow bug and the Hatchet. ‘Figures,’ thought Ramjet and his optics shuttered off as his frame initiated stasis.
…
Blaster fire flew in every direction. Prowl had lost his grip on his blaster in the explosion and now it was nowhere to be found.
“Prowl!”
He whipped his head around to see Elita-1 and Chromia against a steel bench. Elita kicked Scrapper’s discarded gun towards him. Scoping it up, he sprinted to them and dove for the cover the bench provided. “Hold still,” he said. He raised the blaster to the pink femme’s bindings.
Pew!
The shackles fell away and Prowl did the same to Chromia. Before either could thank him though, Chromia yelled “Duck!” The others obeyed without question as she tackled the drone about to shoot them in the back. With a quick motion, Chromia reached into the unarmored spot between the drone’s helm and chassis and ripped out its wiring. The machine shut down with a burst of smoke and sparks. The femme did not stop though, ripping out more of its internals and even pulling out its spinal struts.
Prowl looked on in a mix of horror and respect. Elita-1 roughly turned his helm to her, an anxious look on her face.
“Prowl, where’s Optimus?!”
…
There's a ringing in his audials. Everything sounds like it’s underwater. His arm hurts. Optimus onlines his optics to see Ratchet yelling at him, though the sound is muddled and distorted. He tries to raise his right arm, but it burns and Ratchet is yelling at him again. Over the medic’s shoulder, he sees Bumblebee and Spike shooting at enemy drones. Smoke and dust cover the battlefield like a blanket. A missile explodes to his left and he flinches as bits of debris fall over them.
“Op-us?”
“What?” asked Optimus. Sound is slowly returning, the ringing fading.
“Optimus?! Can- hear- e?”
A flash of purple catches his eye and his battle protocols suddenly snap online. All at once, his processor catches up to reality and sound hits him like lightning.
“MOVE!” Optimus screamed as he tackled Ratchet to the side. The BOOM of the canon thundered across the square. The prime and the medic tumbled to the side, Optimus quickly getting to his pedes and shoving Ratchet behind him. A command to the Matrix and his ax was activated once more, albeit sparking from the previous damage. It hurt, but Optimus could care less.
Backlit against the fiery chaos behind him, Megatron marched his way to the Autobots, a cold fury in his optics and tendrils of smoke curling from his arm cannon.
It was the same song and dance. Millions of years and never a change in tune nor a misstep. A tale that was intertwined with the fates of their entire race. A miner and an archivist. A Tyrant and a Prime.
“One shall stand, Optimus,” snarled Megatron.
“And one shall fall, old friend,” whispered Optimus. He gave a silent prayer to Primus before charging towards the one he once loved and swung his weapon.
>Megatron activated his energon mace and deflected the blade about to slice his helm off. His other fist reared back and caught Optimus in the jaw. The Prime stumbled back and didn’t have a chance before the mace made contact with his helm, snapping it to the side, his frame following. He fell to his knees in a daze, but with a yell managed to tackle the warlord in the legs causing both to go down. They wrestled, each trying to pin the other, fists bashing into armor and hands desperately tearing at transformation seams.
At some point, Megatron managed to use his weight to his advantage, restraining his opponent and fusion cannon beginning to charge. Optimus thrashed frantically underneath him, but nothing was giving, Megatron’s frame just the slightest bit heavier than his own.
A manic look spread across Megatron’s faceplate, all rationality gone from the mech. “I told you Optimus,” he hissed, bloodied dentae forming a gruesome parody of a smile. “The next time we fought would be the day I end you. Goodbye, Prime.” He pressed the barrel of the cannon to Optimus’ mask, the heat conducting and burning the faceplate underneath. Optimus let out a scream of pain.
The cannon whined, about to fire when a fierce cry of rage interrupted them. Megatron turned just in time to see Elita-1 blast a round of plasma straight to his face. “Argh!!” he yelled. Reflexes took over his frame and servos came up to his sizzling face. The fusion blast went wide and shot into the air, catching a stray building in the far distance.
With Megatron distracted, it was all the opening he needed. Optimus shifted his legs against a gunmetal chest and kicked with all his might. Megatron soared above the assembled mechs and crashed into a wall a hundred meters away. It was in no way the end of their battle, but it would give Optimus at least a few klicks to catch his vents.
>Without any hesitation, he ripped the battle mask from his burning plating, hissing as it burned his servo. His vents heaved as he struggled to stand. A frame came underneath his shoulder in support and Optimus turned to see Elita-1 looking him over with concern.
>“Elita,” he sighed gratefully, a stained smile tugging at his lips. She took his faceplate and cupped the side that wasn’t burnt to the pit, kissing it tenderly.
“You are so fragging lucky sometimes,” she scolded. Optimus huffed a laugh.
“I love you too, Elita.”
That was when the rest of their motley crew of bots and one human came to their side, Prowl and Chromia providing cover fire.
“Optimus!” cried Bumblebee. “Are you alright?” The yellow mechling came to this other side, gently leading the semi truck to sit against a crumbling wall.
Optimus sat heavily and grunted as his struts locked up. “I will be,” he said. Beside him, Ratchet was already digging through his med kit for nanite gel. The cool substance stung as it was liberally applied and a hiss escaped his vocalizer.
“Oh, don’t be such a sparkling,” grumbled the medic.
A small figure pushed his way past the larger mechs and held up Optimus’ discarded mask, the plate practically as big as him. “Hey Optimus, look what I found!”
“What the Pitt is that?” exclaimed Elita, instinctively putting herself between the newcomer and her family. Bumblebee just laughed from under her protective arm.
“That’s Spike!” he said cheerfully.
Elita-1’s head snapped to the young bot so fast. “B-127! What have I told you about using foul language!” She grabbed his horn the way a mother would the ear of a child in trouble.
Optimus and Ratchet burst out laughing, the bigger mech wincing as the act pulled at his burns.
“Ow! No, wait!” Bee held up his hands in surrender. “That’s his name! He’s from Earth! Spike, tell her! Ow!”
Elita turned her gaze to the human who shrank underneath her intimidating optics. “Um, hi,” he squeaked. “I’m Spike. Pleasure to meet you ma’am. Sorry about my name.”
Ratchet suppressed another bout of chuckles as he took the mask from Spike and doused it in nanite gel to cool it off. Steam rose from the plate and he handed it back to Optimus. “Let the mechling go, Elita, it’s just a very unfortunate coincidence. Besides, it’s the Earth lingo that’s got Bumblebee in deep water.”
“And believe me,” rumbled Optimus, “he is still very much in trouble for that.” He rose to his pedes and called out to Prowl. “Report!”
“Soundwave and Thundercracker have infiltrated Darkmount and are making their way to the communication center,” replied the tactician. “The science team is attempting to disable the receiver, but Skywarp is compromised. Perceptor is covering them while he recovers”
“Silverbolt and the seekers?”
“Still keeping the rainmakers occupied. As for Shockwave, he has not been seen since Skyfire sent him over the platform”
“Acknowledged.” Optimus turned back to his mecha only to snap his head to the sound of Megatron’s thunderous fury.
“PRIME!!” roared the tyrant. Energon dripped from his mouth and a crack in his shoulder armor. He looked more like a crazed animal than a mech.
“Prowl,” said Optimus, optics never leaving the seething gunmetal face. “You have command. I must face Megatron alone.
“Of course, Optimus.”
“Once communications with Earth come through, you and Soundwave will be our coordinators. The satellites must not reach spark levels.”
Elita stepped up and took his once more masked face in her hands. “Be careful,” she said, kissing his mask. Finally breaking Megatron’s gaze, Optimus leaned down and clinked his helm against Elita’s.
“I will,” he whispered.
They separated and Optimus activated his battle ax once more.
All of a sudden, Ratchet gasped, spark sinking to his tanks. “Frag!”
“Ratchet?” Asked Bumblebee, EM field flaring in concern and confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“Frag, frag, frag! Where did he go?!”
“Where did who g-” but Prowl stopped short, processor firing neurons rapidly.
:Silverbolt! Where is Hook?!:
…
A combiner bond is a unique thing. Rarer than trine bonds and sometimes stronger than that of conjunxes. Though neither is quite the best way to describe them. They are brothers born of fractured sparks. 5 sometimes 6 parts of the same whole, yet so different in signature. Their minds, bodies and sparks become one to form the being that calls to them in the dark. Superion. Bruticus. Devastator. Names feared and revered from near and afar, whispered with voices in awe. God-like beings made from the will of Primus to act as the protectors of their world.
At least that's what the legends say. Hook thinks there was some truth to that, millennia ago before the war. Before revolution and devastation. Perhaps Devastator wasn’t meant to be the rage fueled colossus he was now. That didn’t really matter anymore though, did it? He and the Constructicons were weapons. Tools used in a war to shift the tide and obliterate anything in their path.
Just like they were now. Puppets in Shockwave’s insane experiment.
The moment Hook stepped through space and time, he nearly collapsed. The fuzzy and distant bond he carried within his spark chamber was all at once consuming and oppressive. Dark and evil. Something was WRONG. Not just in a physical or metaphorical sense, no, this was against nature itself. Scrapper and Mixmaster stood like statues with their blasters held rigidly against the femme’s heads. Despite being mere meters from them, Hook could not differentiate their spark signatures. It was like they were overtaken by the presence that now choked him.
Then Megatron had fired and the Autobots had shot his brothers. He screamed of course, but more out of shock than of actual pain. (Which was WRONG. Hook should have felt their pain as they went down. He could always feel their pain, just as they always felt his. Oh Primus, he still couldn’t feel them!) The explosion rocked him off his feet and threw him to the side.
Dust and debris swirled around him and he struggled to his pedes. He looked in the direction of Scrapper and Mix, watching as they simply got up like nothing had happened. Their chassis were still smoking with residual plasma. They might as well have been drones, attempting to fulfill their function. It made Hook sick. He at least had the foresight to retract his face mask before he purged right there in the ruins of Tridex Square.
Wiping his intake, he looked back up to find them both walking away from the battle.
Follow us, Hook.
We can make the pain go away.
Hook’s vents hitched as his spark gave a stutter and he nearly fell to his knees again. Pushing past all of it, he put one unsteady pede in front of the other. Another explosion tore into the ground to his right, but he didn't even flinch. The call was too loud in his helm. The longing for his gestalt, too overpowering. There was no real logic to it other than the feeling of desperation.
Logic. Hook knew logically that this was a trap. That this was just a way for that one eyed glitch to get the full set, but he didn’t care about logic anymore. He wanted Scrapper, Mix Master, Long Haul, Scavenger and Bonecrusher. He wanted to be whole again.
So he followed his brothers to the corner of the battlefield where the rest of his gestalt was. Shockwave was with them, the mad scientist leaning against a crumbling pillar, lone yellow optic cracked and leaking energon. His arm cannon was crushed and looked painfully twisted while his other servo took something out of his subspace.
“Welcome home, Hook,” he said in that raspy monotone. He raised the spark scrambler as the Constructicon approached.
“I just want to feel them again,” Hook whispered, tears of coolant running down his masked face. He collapsed to his knees before the purple monster.
“I doubt you’ll feel much of anything anymore.”
The scrambler kissed the side of Hook’s head and he closed his optics. Then he screamed. He screamed and screamed until the sweet call of darkness finally claimed him.
…
‘Finally,’ thought Shockwave. If he could feel such things, he might have felt pride at seeing Hook rise and join the rest of the Constructicon gestalt. In the distance, Shockwave could see the Prime with his battle ax extended and Lord Megatron standing a ways away. Current data showed an 97% chance that their encounter would end the same as it always had. With Megatron retreating and the Prime triumphant.
Shockwave turned to his combiner team and if he still had the face the senate stole from him, perhaps he would have smiled. Instead, his cracked optic glowed brightly.
“Constructicons, transform and combine into Devastator.”
…
All fighting came to a stand still as the deafening roar of a combiner tore through the square. The scientists stopped their work, the seekers nearly stalled in midair. Even the drones paused in their assault. Every mech either stared in horror or in pure manic glee. The massive shadow engulfed the battlefield. A god in the midst of mere mecha, Devastator stood monumental.
…
Bumblebee stood next to Optimus staring at the form of their doom. “Op?”
“Yeah, Bee?”
“We’re totally fucked, aren’t we?”
“Yes, Bumblebee,” sighed Optimus Prime dejectedly. “We are totally fucked.”