Bladewing's continued Stories

Earth : Trypticon

    Hooligan was in the repair bays.  You took the time to clean up yourself, apparently he had taken some serious damage while loosing the shuttle and saving some Autobot.
     Pathetic, you recognize him now.  He’s the one who found you outside of Trypticon after your battle with Terrorsaur.  A greasy orange bot that smelled of baked lubricants, not one
that you’d choose to work with on a regular basis.
     --But maybe a good target for a diversion, or a patsy to take the fall when I take the shuttle.—
     You walk out of the room, to go stretch your legs.  There are floor to wall windows out in the cooridors, and the medlabs are facing out into the ocean.  You stand for some time
transfixed by the empty horizon.  Clouds roll over the horizon, and you feel something calling you.
     You see yourself in the reflection of the window, your red eye glowing dimly in the light of the setting sun.  Your mind begins to wander.
     In the reflection you see the massive Warworld where you were created.  Created by a twisted spark that dared linked itself to the Matrix of creation.
     You see the leering face of Starscream as he slammed you out of the Warworld.  You see the swarm as it ate it’s way into the Warworld, and you feel the swarm as it tears it’s way
through your structure.  Then came the light.
     Your vision centers back on your own reflection, and you notice a doorway behind you.  A doorway that wasn’t there before…  a doorway that didn’t belong.
     You turn and step toward the door.  The surface glows red with archaic inscriptions as it slides open.
     --Now, where could this lead?—
     --Enter and learn.-- 


Earth : Trypticon II

  Curiosity gets the better of you.  You cautiously push wide the hatch and peer down the dark coorridor.  It seems to lead downward and over, along the walls.  You pull your swords
and slowly make your way into the tunnel.
     After a few minutes of travel, you begin to wonder if you had just been paranoid… and listening to those blasted voices in your head again.
     Then, you notice that there is a door ahead of you.
     You move forward, setting your swords up for a moment as you manually shift the heavy latch on the door.
     As it swings open, you pull your swords free again and step back into the shadows.
     A blue pulse filters into the tunnel as the door open, one you recognize from before.  It was Trypticon’s spark chamber.
     In front of the massive spark receptacle a shadow stood, peering into the door.
     You step out of the shadows.
     The shadow resolves into a tall, white robot.  Arcane writings, etched in red, covering his body.  His chestplate gave the vague impression of a skull, staring at you from centuries
past.  His head bore a crown of horns, with two soot stained streams surrounding his eyes.
     He speaks out in a cold metallic voice, "Who are you?"
     "Name’s Bladewing, Who the slag are you!?"


Earth: Trypticon

    "Greetings, Bladewing.  My name is Deathspire."
     "Deathspire?  Sounds… familiar." The name echoes something back deep in your memory processors.
     You step into the room, as Deathspire takes stock of you, "A Laser Rod?  Created in the late periods of the Great War… By Bludgeon?"
     "Not exactly…" you rumble, "Close enough." You notice the red etchings on his arms and legs, "Your markings… they mark you as Herald.  Herald of… what?"
     "Herald of the oncoming storm of Chaos that will purge this Universe of the refuse that plagues it."
     "Chaos is good, but what refuse would be cleaned?"
     "Maximal, Autobot, Cybertron… Those that tried to oppress the Decepticon Empire!"
     "Hmph, you can add the Predacon’s to that list." The other bot spat.
     "Yes, the Predacons would be good to hunt."
     "Why are you in… here?"
     "I was drawn here by another… spirit of Chaos.  The spark that now calls itself Trypticon."
     "Hmm, and why not announce yourself to Megatron directly?"
     "A wise Decepticon always understands the circumstances before he makes his presence known."
     "Then why am I here?"
     The pulsing spark behind Deathspire sends out a wave of thought.
     --You are a kindred soul, your being drawn to this chamber after my birth was no random event.  Your spark sought out others that burned with the spark of chaos.—
     "That still doesn’t answer my question." you restate.
     "You are to be my eyes and ears before I step into the light of this battle."
     "Hmmm, and to what end?"
     "To the end…" you think for a moment, "to the end that would announce the destruction of the Predacon Empire?"
     "Hmm, my score’s settled with the Predacon’s."
     "Then what about a return to Cybertron?  A return to the power that once was the Decepticon Empire?"
     "More interesting.  I do need a ride off this mudball."
     "Then so be it.  Return to your post.  I will go and meet Megatron.  He must be judged for the leader that he is now.  If he does not prove worthy, then I shall be in contact with you."
     You turn and step back into the tunnel, spreading your silvery coating across you frame and disappearing into the shadowy depths.
     --Whoever you are, I will be sure to keep a blade sharpened… just in case.—

     The door slides open to the CR chambers, and you see the collective Combaticons had entered the room and seemed to be… talking to Hooligan.
     "Uhm, what’s going on?"
     Swindle smiles at you as the others began to leave, "We were just congratulating Hooligan on his new assignment as your parnter.  See ya around boyos!"
     You stride up to the healing pad.  A brown and red transformer could be seen curled up in a cute little fetal position.
    "For the love of..." "HOULIGAN !  Get up you lazy bastard."
    "No mom I didn't reprogram the tutor bot to do a strip-tease....   wa,   *Yawn*  What's the chronomitor reading?"
     He seemed a bit… dazed. "Sometimes I don't understand Megatron", you grumble. "On your feet. We are supposed to salvage the shuttle. And…"you pause with a new ideal,
"you’re in command..."
    Suddenly a small parabolic dish segmented around Houligan's audio sensor, "EH!?  Come again?"
    "You are in command, alright?!"
     "WOO-HOO !!!"
    You play act a pitiful groan.
    Houligan confidently strides over to a control panel. "Tripticon! I need you to construct an emmitions sensor and two jaming exo-suits."
     "I don’t need a jamming suit." You preempt, "I’m… adept at jamming."
     Hooligan nods, "Ok, then you know the mission?"
     "Find the shuttle."
     "Right.   Let’s get out there." He picks up a small scanning sensor from a panel on the wall where it had materialized.
     --It’s always the leader that takes the blame if the mission… fails.—

    The two of you stepped out onto the landing platform of the transformed Trypticon.
     "Well, I’ll just use this palm sensor to triangulate the coordinates of the shuttles vapor trail.  Trypticon’s sensors can be used to give me a vector for matching against the downward
velocity of…"
     While he speaks, you look at the sky, where the shuttle had just appeared.
     You tap Hooligan on the shoulder.
     "Huh?  What?"
     "Maybe we should just look up."
     An explosion rocks the massive Trypticon fortress.
    Predacon’s were dropping out of the shuttle in an onslaught of firepower, and at their head was a large combination monstrosity that you had not seen before.
     You scoped out your optic and scanned the monster, "It’s the Tripredicus council."
     "What?!?"
     "They’re a combiner, and an ugly one at that."
     Your comm unit squelched, "Bladewing, Hooligan.  Change of plans.  Get on that shuttle and stop it from attacking.  Any way possible!"


Earth : The Atlantic Shoreline

     "Hold on."  You grab hooligan up and jet into the air, ducking below the nearest platform.
     "Activate your jamming suit and let’s go." You tell the oily Decepticon.
   Explosions rock the massive Decepticon city as you hear the sirens signaling transformation.
     "Ok, you’re the fly boy, get us out there." Hooligan snorts.
     You set your own jammers off and push out from the shadows as the city begins to shift around you.
     You hear gunfire explode as the Predacon’s begin their assault and the Decepticons respond.
     "Why aren’t those slaggin’ Autobot’s doing anything?"  Whines Hooligan.
     A large explosion and the groan of strained metal quickly answers his question.
     You both look, and see that the massive Autobot city was suddenly lilting to one side and slowly shifting below the waters.  Smoke poured from one side, and the waters around it
churned as the great city began to sink down.
     "Looks like the Predacon’s have a few saboteurs of their own."  You mutter.  The smoke pouring out of Metroplex was quickly being churned up by the winds sweeping in from the
ocean.  "They won’t sink much.  They’re too close to the shore.  At the most, it’s just gonna get Metroplex mad."
     Hooligan shakes his head, "That wasn’t their target.  Look where the smoke is coming from.  Energon to mud bets that they just blew out the transforming coils.  And if they were
smart they probably hit the communications and weapons systems too."
     "How the slag can you tell that from here."
     "Just a… gift I guess."
     "At the very least, that smoke will give us some cover for visuals.  Make it easier to get inside."
     "Let’s do it then."

     Within minutes, you found yourselves onboard the shuttle’s box-like exterior.
     The shuttle was delivering heavy blasts at Trypticon, who had now transformed into Beast mode.  The terrible lizard roared and thrashed with frightening ease and speed, tossing
Predacon warriors to the side like mosquitoes as they tried to land on him.
     "Look, Bruticus is going after That big monster combiner!"
     You glance over enough to see that Bruticus was pitifully outmatched.  His blasts were dodged with ease by the smaller robot, and you watch as the Predacon brings a bladed
weapon up into Bruticus’ torso.  Parts go flying as the weapon cuts through Bruticus’ heavy armor like tin foil!
     You turn your attention back to the shuttle, "Great, we’ve got to get this thing out of commission."
     "Oh, I don’t believe you’ll be doing any such thing." A grating voice makes you jerk your attention to the rear of the ship.
     The robot you didn’t recognize.  Not physically, he was black with aqua highlighting and had a jet noise with a red cockpit as his torso.
    The voice you’d never forget.  It was the voice of your creator.  The voice of Starscream.


Earth: The Atlantic Shoreline

     You step forward, moving up toward the taller black and blue robot, "So, Starscream, working for the Pred's now, are we?"
    "Hardly, Bladewing.  I am the master of this house.  The Predacon’s merely serve my purpose… for the moment."
    You move in, and away from the line of sight that Hooligan was in and continue your questions, trying to draw his attention away from the other bot, "What's in it
for you, besides Megatron being out of the picture again?"
    "Au contraire, LaserRod, I don’t want Megatron dead.  In fact, I want to see him win this battle.  He is the key that I need…"
    "That you need?  What key?"
    "Really… oh," he shifts the stance on his weapon, "And Hooligan, you can stop messing with that circuit board now."
    There’s a snapping noise and an urk as Hooligan jumps back from the exposed panel.
    "It… it was rerouting itself, as if it…."  Hooligan lapses into silence for the moment.
    You broke in, trying to keep Starscream from paying the other bot too much attention, "So, if you’re not in it for Megatron’s head, then why strike a bargain with
the Preds? You really think that they’ll hold up their end of the deal? They're about as trustworthy as you are."
    "Charming, really… but no, I struck no bargain with the Preds.  I merely allowed them to repair themselves, and offered to help bolster their pathetic attempt at a
frontal assault on     Trypticon."
    "But why?"
    "Well, that brings us to the bargain of the moment doesn’t it?  I propose this to you both.  Bring Megatron to me."
    "And what do we get out of it?"
    "You get… you get a ride off this mudball of a planet."
    You and Hooligan look at each other.
    Hooligan looks back, "Yeah… I trusted you before…"
    "And you were not shot by me, but rather by your frosty companion.  I avenged your death and ended his life."
    "What about this…"Hooligan continued, "Earlier, we were on the shuttle…"
    "And the Predacon’s attacked.  I stopped them, but you had already jumped out.  I didn’t tell you to, and everything was still under control."
    Hooligan lapsed into silence.
     "So how can you give us a ride off of here?"
     "This shuttle.  I’m sure that Hooligan can attest to the power of its engines.  It is equipped with the latest tech, and can take us back to Cybertron in a blink."
     "And what’s to keep us from just slagging you and taking it?"
     "I have the upper hand at the moment?  Not to mention that neither of you are fighters, you’re espionage agents.  Deadly to be sure, but easily outmatched in your
current situation."
     "I wouldn’t be so sure."
     Hooligan puts a hand on your arm, "There’s more."
     "What?!?"
     He looks over at Starscream, "Isn’t there.  You and this shuttle share a link. That’s how you knew we were here, even with the inviso-suits."
     "Ah, so the grease monkey has figured it out."
     "How’d it happen?  How could a transformer be linked to an inanimate shuttle?  I knew there was a spark chamber, but why didn’t you become the shuttle?"
     "Really, I’m not positive.  All I know is that I was left to die on the table inside of Trypticon.  As so many times before, my spark left it’s housing and began its
quest for a new host.  Deathspire’s old design had served me well, but it was time for a change.  I floated up, but found myself drawn back into the deep of the
Everglades.  There, the shuttle sat in the muck, awaiting my spark.  I tried to merge with it, but the process nearly destroyed me.  Instead, it formed a body that was
linked to the shuttle itself.  The body you see now.  I promise you, I have lost no power in the conversion.  In fact, I am far more powerful now than ever.  It is time
for me and Megatron to finish our struggle for supremacy once and for all."
     "Then why do you need us?!?"
     "Look out there.  Even the assault on Trypticon itself has not brought Megatron out of his new fortress!!  The coward sits and trembles, no longer fit to even lead
his own forces into battle!!"
     "Then I take it you don’t believe the assault will succeed?"
     "HA!!  Granted, it’s a well-laid plan, the Autobot fortress is useless, the Decepticon forces deplted, and Tripredicus’ strength is immaculate!  However, the
Autobot’s themselves are soon to set in to the Decepticon’s aid.  That in it’s self will equal out the forces.  Optimus Prime is leading them onto the battlefield.  Even
that pompous insect will find Optimus and his cronies hard to chew up so easily, especially after expending the energy he’s using against Trypticon’s shields.
     "If that wasn’t enough, the Earth Defense Forces are on scramble and will be available within the mega-cycle!!
     "The assault is doomed to fail.  Too bad, but all I’m interested in is Megatron. Bring him to me, and we shall leave this rabble behind."
  

Earth : The Atlantic ocean

    You turn, "Very well then, I will see about getting Megatron out here."
     Hooligan sputters, "Bu.."
     You grab him and jump off the shuttle before he can say anything else.
     "You’re not really going to trust that pile of lying scrap bolts!!" He squirmed as he climbed on your back.
     "Of course not, we’ll just tell Megatron what he wants.  It’s up to Megatron as to how he deals with it."
     "But that leaves him up here with that blasted shuttle!"
     "What are we to do about it?  You already tried hacking into the controls, he’s in full control of the shuttles systems!  All we could accomplish by staying is to get
scrapped, one way or another."
     "Yeah, maybe…"
     "No maybe about it.  We relay our story to Megatron, and then we’ll figure out how to take out that shuttle."
     Below you, Trypticon was slashing around in the water furiously.  Tripredicus was slashing at his shields, and dodgeing everything that Trypticon threw at him.
     Hooligan leans over and looks down, "And you want to go into THAT!?!?"
     "Maybe not, Bladewing to Megatron…"

     After explaining your story, Megatron informs you that he would deal with Starscream, and you were to return to the shuttle and make sure it was no longer
operable.
 
  

Earth : The Atlantic ocean

    You and Hooligan make your way up under the shuttle.  The rusty robot yells, "Ok, there’s an open door on the side, I saw it as we were flying away.  We can
activate our stealth crap and crawl inside, hopefully without Starscream noticing."
     You fly closer, "But he noticed us before, what’s different this time?!"
     He looks back at where a slate blue jet was burning a trail toward the shuttle, "This time Megatron’s going to be keeping that slimeball go-bot busy!"
     He jump up inside the open side doors with his stealth suit activated.
     You transform and cover yourself with the mirror polymer, turning nearly invisible.  You see him turn to look for you and are gratified when he shrugs, not finding
you.
     He moves quickly into the main bridge area, sitting at the console is a single Predacon.  He sneers and brings his Gattling guns up, tearing into the back of the
chair.  The black and orange Predacon slumps forward and over to the ground, smoking.
     "That was fun!"  he laughs as he moves up to the control panel and sits down.  You look over his shoulder and see that he appears to be deactivating all the ships
systems.  Barely in time, you catch yourself and activate magnetic fields to hold you in place as the ship began a sudden free fall, tossing everything else to the back
of the ship.
     --What the slag is he up too!!!???!!!—
    Powerpinch fell to the back of the ship.
    Without a word Hooligan switches the power back on and the automatic righting system forces the ship into in a ballistic steep climb, rattling everything including
the command chairs that he sat in.
    Suddenly, both chairs are shaken loose from their fixtures, Hooligan tumbles backward with the chairs as you move quickly to the side.
    You turn to see him land in a pile in the rear of the ship.
    A Predacon begins to climb into the bridge from the rear as the ship rights itself.  You recognize him immediately, even though his form had altered since you had
last seen him.
    --Hornet—
    He was Transmetal now, with robotic body parts covering his Predacon exoskeleton.
    He fires a shot at Hooligan, knocking him clear of the rubble.
    Then, explosions rocked the shuttle itself and klaxons began blaring.  You both look out of the viewscreen up front to see Megatron pummeling Starscream
mercelessly.
    Hooligan sneers,  "That’s it, Predacon. Megatron will rip Starscream’s processors out and send this game will be over!!"
     Hornet turns and nails him dead on with his rifle.  Sparks fly as he falls back. "Starscream can go to back to the Pitt for all I care!" he moves toward the controls.
     You step in behind the Predacon as he nears the controls, your polymer fading away, and your sword slicing in a deadly arc that severs the Predacon’s head from
his body.
     As the head tumbles to the ground, your optics glint with satisfaction, "That’s for messing with my head."You whisper.
    You look down at the disembodied head as the rest of the Predacon slumps to the ground, "Guess you Predacon’s loose this battle after all, eh?"
     You hear the Predacon gurgle a final reply, "Nnn…o…no..tt  ye… t…"
     Suddenly the ship seems to envelop itself in a blue green energy and you see a blast arc out toward Megatron…
   
  


Earth: The Shuttle...?

    "What the Pit was that!!!"  You lurch forward as the shuttle begins to tremble.  Outside, you could see that the blast was still locked onto Starscream and
Meagtron, surrounding them in a halo of energy.
    You hear Hooligan stumbling around behind you, "you don't think you could have done that about five micro-cycles sooner?"
     He staggers up to the main controls, "What's going on with this monkey ride anyway."
     He taps in some commands and brings up ship status on the viewer, "By the burning inferno!"
     "What? What is this!?" demanded Bladewing.
     But he was already gone, jumping down into a maintenance hatch.  You yell at him, "Hooligan!!"
     A few segments later he pops his head up again, "Let’s get out of here!"
     "What?  I’m not abandoning my ride home!"
     "Yeah, well, it’s not really a good ride home now!"
     "What are you talking about!"
     "It’s turning into a transformer, and if we don’t move, we’re likely to get crushed in the process!"
     As if on cue, there is a loud groaning as the ship strains to alter its configuration.  The control panels began to flip and shift, and struts of machinery jutted out of
the walls and floors.
     You move, but Hooligan was ahead of you, opening a top hatch out of the control room.
     As you make your way out you hear, "What are you two doing?!?"
     You look to see Optimus Prime and Flood standing near the edge of the shuttle, apparently about to jump in the side entry.
     Hooligan yells, "I wouldn’t go in there!  It’s going through changes!"
     "What?!" Flood yells.
     The noise out here was immense, the sounds of metal and electricity fighting for supremacy.
     "The shuttle, its taking Megatron’s spark into itself and forming a new robot!" Hooligan yells back.
     Prime blinks for a second, "What kind of robot?!?"
     Hooligan shakes his head, "It’s just a body rebuild.  Starscream’s already part of it, but it looks like Hornet activated the systems to suck in Meg’s spark as
well!"
     "Can we stop it!?"  Flood yells.
     "Not without loosing them AND the shuttle!" Hooligan answers.
     The noise below your feet begins to resolve into the sound of gears whirring and panels sliding.
     "Then let’s get out of here!"  Prime orders.
     The four of you jump to safety, noticing that another black and orange Predacon, Powerpinch, carting a decapitated Hornet, jump free of the shuttle as well.
     The six of you land on the beach below, near the collection of tanks.
     There is a bright light engulfing the shuttle, and you watch as pieces are shed, and panels are slid.  Parts fall away into the ocean as the shuttle sheds its extra
weight.  Wings slide out, mounted with racks of missiles, and soon, a definite shape appears.
     The shuttle changes into a large ATF bomber.  Grayish green and black camouflage striping it’s hull, and glistening silver edges to its triangular shape.  An
enormous round cannon was on the belly of the jet.  Megatron’s body falls away, releasing its grip on Starscream, but the blue and black robot was changing as
well.  His colors were altering to match the larger bomber, and he was converting to his jet mode.
     The two linked together, completing the form of the new and deadly looking robot.
     With a sudden boom, the transformation completed.  Engines roared into existence and the jet bolted into the sky under it’s own power.
     Prime mutters, "It’s designed after Dreadwing’s old body…"
     The jet circles Trypticon and Metroplex, then spins toward you on the beach.  There is a moment of seperation as the two jets split apart, and then the sound of
transformation, just before they both land with a thud, in robot mode.
     Megatron looked at the heavy, thick arms of the robot mode, stretching his hands.  The huge gattling cannon had become a shoulder mount, and the nose of the
plane was his chestplate.  The sings had folded back along the sides and still held their deadly load of missiles.
     Megatron looks up, and his voice and Starscream’s in unison speaks, "I am reborn." 

 You pace through the wharehouse, picking through the pitiful earthling technology. 

                --No refracters, pitiful hyperdrivers—

                Granted, you could build a ship, but it would take months to get there.  Patience wasn’t your virtue.  You had decided the best way to get off this rock was to play Mr. Helpful until you could get a ride.  After all, once everything was running, SOMEONE had to contact Cybertron to come pick up the Tripredicus Council.

                They were still on ice… figuratively.  There had been a joint decision by the EDF, the Autobots and the Decepticons to leave them in stasis lock until they could be sent back.

                You trudge out of the supply house.

                “Anything?” Deathspire asks from where he sat perched against a, Earth vehicle outside.  He was as large as the truck and, despite his lightly made materials, was nearly pushing the truck sideways as he leaned on it.

                “I found some transistors we could use to plug Optimus’ crankcase.”  You mutter.

                “Great. I don’t see what the Autobot’s see in this backwater mudball.”  He stands, flexing his bone-like wings.

                Originally, you had stayed aloof, but it soon became apparent that you needed help to get off this rock.

                “Peace and harmony with the little fuzzy monkeys.” You snort.

                “Yeah, well, you’d think at least their capital city would have…”

                Your com-unit bleeps, interrupting Deathspire.

                “Bladewing here.”

                Megatron’s voice answers, “Bladewing.  I need you to pick of the Human President and transport him to Trypticon’s current coordinates.”

                “What?  I’m no fleshy transport!”

                “I wasn’t asking. Bring him hear immediately, there’s a Cybertron ship landing and the President wishes to be here for the meeting.  Megatron out.”

                You look at Deathspire, “Cybertron ship?”

                Deathspire’s eyes glint, “Looks like we just had an opportunity opened to us.  In fact, since you have orders to… ‘get’ this planet’s leader.  Perhaps we have multiple opportunities.”

                “Hmm… we’ll see.  Bladewing, birdy mode!”

                You transform into the sleek bladed craft as you leap into the air, and turn towards the cities Capital building, Deathspire close on your heels.

               

                The two of you waited patiently in vehicle mode in the middle of a green lawn that stretched out in front of the odd looking white building.

                A small, and armed, entourage marched out, with the President in the middle.

                “Greetings, Bladewing… and Deathspire I believe?”

                You almost snap out something sarcstic, but Deathspire spoke first, “Greentings Mr President.  Megatron has asked us to assure your safe arrival to Decepticon city.”

                Meanwhile, an undercurrent transmission shot across the lawn to you, “We must be the diplomats in this situation.  No good in arising suspicions of anything other that the obedient servants until we have a plan.”        

“Thank you, Deathspire.”  The lanky elder man moved up to beside you.

                Your cockpit slides open, revealing a mass of blinking lights and controls.  The President is helped up by one of his guards.

                “I have to admit, I’ve never been in a vehicle with anything near the kind of technology you have!”

                “Yeah, being an assassin requires the utmost of top-notch technology.”

                The President’s face blanches a bit, but he keeps his composure as he continues to prattle to you.

                You kick your engines on, on a needlessly high setting, leaving two small charr marks in the green lawn.

 Earth: heading towards Trypticon

                As you and Deathspire soar through the evening sky, streaking your way toward Trypticon at top speeds, you ponder what could be done with a human President, what kind of games could be played with his dismantled body parts.  Of course, their design was flawed and the structures corrupted soon after their removal from the main body.  Still, the thoughts willed away the minutes as you flew like a gopher to your destination.

                Suddenly, from out of nowhere, Megatron was flying at Deathspire’s side.

                You do a double take on your scanners, there was no trace, not any blip or shadow.

                Your com crackels, “Bladewing, return the President to Trypticon.  I would have a word with Deathspire.”

                With that, the two pull away and dart off toward the ground.

                You twitch, annoyance at his dismissive treatment.  Who does he think he is? 

                --Oh, yeah, he’s the leader-guy—

                You really were disliking this whole ‘part of the team’ gig.

               

                After delivering the President to Trypticon, all nice, safe and sound.  You went up to the upper towers, looking out at the starry night sky as you contemplated your future.

                Of course, your optics wandered repeatedly to the huge warship that now sat anchored off of the bow of the Decepticon City.  It was ugly, bright colors, reds and yellows, and kind of blocky looking.  The armor must have been fairly heavy, the gun ports were closed, and you could learn little about it from here.  It looked like an overhaul job though, something that was a recent subject to an upgrade formatting. 

                Linkage on top suggested that there was another part that was currently missing. Maybe a shuttle?

                You shrug and ponder what would be the best way to deal with things when you hear a door hinge swing open nearby.

                You turn as the acrid smell of oil permeats the crisp, salty air.

                “Hooligan.” You state.

                The orange and red robot jerked at his name, “oh, heya, you shirking duties too?”

                You shrug, “Something like that.”

                “So, you know what’s going on?” the oily robot plopped down a few meters from you, dangling his feet over the side of the tower.

                “Not a clue, except that there’s a warship that might provide a nice ride back to Cybertron.”

                “Yeah, but here tell’s there’s some kinda war back home.  Figures.”

                “Figures?”

                “Yeah, I left cuz it was so slaggin’ boring, and now there’s a whole war being raged there!”

                You optic swivels at the odd irony. 

                Below, a school of dolphins of dolphins breaks the still surface of the Atlantic.

                “So?   You ready to return?”  you ask.

                “Ready and willing.  Slaggin’ knows that all I’ve found here is a planet-full of monkeys.  Take me back to the bars on Cybertron.  After all!  I’ve finally got a few energon rods saved up to spend now!”

                Silence lasts for a few minutes as you ponder this new angle on Hooligan.

                “You going to the meeting?”  he asks.

                “Meeting?”

                “Yeah, down below, there gonna announce what’s up on Cybertron.  It’s supposed to start in a few cycles.”  He was getting up.

                You think about it for a moment, curosity getting the better of you.

                “Yeah.”  You stand and follow the Decepticon down into Trypticon.

 

                A long table ran along the walls and sat all the others assembled here.  At the forefront was Optimus Prime.   Megatron sat beside him and the Earth President beside him.

                The crew of the ship, the Soulfire, stood in the center of the gathered crowd.

                Optimus spoke, “Autobot, Decepticon, Maximal, Predacon, Cybertron, Destron, and Human.  For the first time in perhaps all of our history do we all stand side by side, joined in peace and united through a common danger.  For those of you who do not yet know why we are here, Cybertron has again fallen under attack.  Our homeworld has become the target of conquest from an outside force, and now calls to us to stand against it’s would be enslavers.  Captain Backdraft is the first ship to reach us, to ask for our assistance in this new fight.  He will now, hopefully, shed some light on what has happened on our homeworld.”

                Silence reigns in the room.  With a heavy sigh, Captain Backdraft squared his shoulders and began… 

 

GENERAL STATEMENT, New Wars New Gods, Statement #2

 

                     Earth : Trypticon

                 Partway through the meeting, you look around and notice that Deathspire had made a rather stealthy exit.  Curious, you back your own way out as Megatron was finishing his speech. 

                The hallways were silent and empty.

                --He has to be somewhere!—

                Then the echo of a voice whispers through the hallways.

                You move off, down the hallway to get a better scan. 

It was Deathspire… seemingly talking to himself?

                “Yeah, and what of it.” His voice echoes off the hallway.  You registered no radio transmissions, and there were no other voices.  But, still, there was a pause, as if he was listening to someone.

                “I needed some fresh air?”

                You round a corner, and force yourself to back off, having nearly walked into Deathspire’s point of view.  You activated your camoflauge and seem to meld back into the wall.

                Deathspire stood, staring at the ceiling, “And what if I don’t!”

                A low rumble seems to shake the walls.

                “Who said anything about m… about that.”

                Deathspire had resumed walking, and was exiting the building, out onto one of the smaller launching platforms.

“Sometimes we have no choice.” He transforms and bolts off into the sky.

--Interesting, does our dear Deathspire perhaps have a bit more of the madness in him than I thought?  Perhaps this needs further investigation…--

                You transform and follow him out into the night air.

 

                He flies for some time, you keep a lagging pace on him, leaving your shiny coat on so as not to draw undo attention.

                You follow as he bolts up above the clouds, out over swirling storms in the Atlantic, and as he passes a far shoreline.

                He had been flying East-Northeast for some time.

                Now, he dipped down and transfomed, hitting the ground with the hollow clacking of bone.

                You choose a nice spot on the grassy hills to land.  Fog whips around you in the chilly night and the moon pours down across the smooth hills and the small clusters of trees that stood here.

                Deathspire was moving forward, walking with an odd expression in his eyes.

                Somewhere far off the soft roll of thunder could be heard.

                You see that he appears to be heading toward an outcropping of rock. Moving closer, you can see the rocks were ancient, jutting straight out of the Earth at an odd angle.  Massive, the largest one towering nearly your size, they stretched up from where they had been embedded for centuries.

                Deathspire stood staring at them, then suddenly, his hafted weapon was in his hand and sweeping toward the rocks in a glittering blue arc.

                A slice falls away, and again he sweeps the weapon in.  Chip after chip slides down off of the rock face.  Until, suddenly, a large piece of the rock slid away.

                There was a hollow inside of the rock…

                The pale moonlight shined over the rock, shined into the mold that had been formed by what the rock had once contained. 

                From where you were, you could not make out the shape, but Deathspire’s eyes had turned black and bottomless.

                His voice floats quietly over the misty hills, “So, this is where it ended…  Where Syntax’ quest finally ended.”

                Another voice broke the stillness, “Where Syntax’ quest ended and where mine began.”

                You look to see a Maximal standing not far off in the moonlight.  His arms ended in sharply clawed hands, and spikes stuck out of his chest and the wings on his back. 

                “We started this fight millennia ago.  It is time I end it.”

 Earth

Deathspire brings his scythe out with a crackling sweep of energy.  The smaller, spiked warrior bristled, flexing his large claws.  They glinted deadly in the foggy night.

                “Still you persist in your delusions, Syntax?” Deathspire begins to circle with him, “Merely changing form and name does not include the ability to defeat me!”

                “Syntax died in that crash.  I was created…”

                “Recreated…  Just like me…”

                “NO!  You are an abomination.   Do you think I don’t know what lay below this ground?!?  Do you think I couldn’t feel his corrupted hand sweep us both from our places in this universe!!  You are no transformer, you have become his slave!!”

                Deathspire roars in rage, bursting into action with his scythe.  The moist air sizzled and popped as it came sweeping down.  Error’s claws came to block, and there is a sharp explosion against Deathspire’s chest as two spikes fired out from Error’s armor.  Deathspire rolls back, flipping and allowing his wing blades to strike against the opposing warrior.

Sparks fly from the other, but Deathspire is also damaged.  Another volley of spikes fired out, but Deathspire is quicker, jumping up, spinning scythe held above his head. 

The missiles crash into the ground with an explosive rumble.  You can make out part of the hillside by the stone as it began to crumble and collapse. 

Deathspire brings the scythe under his arm and channels a charge of energy through it.  It hisses as it whips out toward Error, making him leap away as it ripped up rock and dirt around him. 

He flies back, loosing his balance in the spray.  Deathspire charges downward, bringing the scythe down with a thunderous smash.

Error dodges, barely, letting the scythe, and Deathspire’s weight, crash into the ground.  The earth tears open, sending them both tumbling down into the darkness…

You scramble up from your position and go over to the lip of the hole.

You hear a crash several seconds later as the two hit the ground.  From the sounds of it, they hit hard, and it was pretty far down to.

You lower yourself carefully down into the crack.  That was what it was, a massive crack in the Earth, maybe five meters wide, and leading down into the darkness, massive rock walls encroached on either side.

--Odd, I wouldn’t think that a blow like that would make such an odd crack.—

The walls were solid, which only added to the oddity. 

Using you jump jets, you lowered yourself into the darkness.

 

The cavern below was black and silent.  You shut on your VR scanners, and instantly, the room was rebuilt as if it were pure daylight.

The cavern was huge, and had a small lake to one side of it.  You could see the two spots of the fallen warriors where they were beginning to stuggle to get up. 

But that wasn’t nearly as interesting as the walls…

They were lined with skulls.  Skulls of every make and kind, small ones, large ones, humanoid, alien, animal, all embedded into the dirt and rock, along with bones all mixed together in a chaotic mess…

That made perfect sense to you.  Instantly pictures and stories sprung forward from the walls.  Messages, prophecies, warnings…  All in a great mosaic of insanely sculpted body parts.

A noise from below attracted your attention before you could get into any of it though.

“So here is where you sold your spark, Decepticon.”  You hear Error spit from his spot on the ground.  The two had both staggered to their feet.  Stunned, but not terribly injured. 

Deathspire looked to his right at Error, then looked back into the darkness of the cavern, in his stunned stage, he almost looked like a marrionette on a set of strings as he moved.

“I was give no choice.”  He whispers desperately to the darkness.

He sweeps around with his blade, sending another shot of blue white energy towards Error.  Error moved, barely dodging the blast, as it roared by him and into the far wall.

In it’s bright light, the cavern was illuminated for a brief second…

You suppose that the other two couldn’t yet see what you had seen, but in that brief flash the room had been lit in brilliant relief.

You see Error fumble in his armor as he stared out, gape mouthed, just as Deathspire stared.

He pulled a small cylinder… a flare, and lit it, tossing it out into the middle of the lake, where it bobbed and shed a bright light, that probably still barely lit the walls around them. 

--At least it’s perfect for me to hide in…--

The two stood, stock still for a second.  The fight was forgotten briefly as the sight of the room took its toll on their processors.

Then Error broke the silence.

“So this is where Unicron lies…” you hear an awed and deeply fearful whisper.

  Earth: a cavern

 

            Your mind races as you try to grasp what had just been said.

--Unicron?!?!—

You listen more intently to their conversation, watching them very carefully…

 

Deathspire spins on his heel to face Error again, “Look, I was never given a choice.  I was dead, and wanted to stay dead.  He brought me back… He put this abomination of a spark in me…”

“Why tell me this…” Error spits out, turning himself from the macabre walls, “What do you want, PITY!?!?”

“NO!!!  What I want is his destruction!  What I want is vengeance and peace!  What I want is freedom for my spark!!”

Error stops, seeming to consider this.

“You are one of the few links I have to this past, and as much as I hate to admit it, possibly one of the few I can trust.  You already know my darkest secret, and know what it could signify. 

I am marked as Herald, as the forecomer of the Chaos Bringer. If he transported us here, to this time, then it was to warn them of his coming!”

He definitely had the hedgehog-bot’s attention.

“Look around you.  No FEEL around you.  Nothing is here, HE is no longer here.  This was where Unicron slept, but why is he no longer here?”

            Error folds his arms over his bristling chest, “What are you suggesting?”

            “A truce, put aside our differences, maybe even work together to find out exactly what Unicron has in store for Cybertron.”

            Error shakes his head, “And why should I trust you?”

            Deathspire snorts, “Trust me?  Why should I trust YOU?  You’re the one holding all the cards.  I have no secrets against you, I’m quite sure that if you told anyone about it, I’d be slag dripping in a segment, if I wanted to, we could continue this fight, I’m quite sure the outcome would be favorable to me…”

            “You always did underestimate your opponents.”

            “Not this time.  My opponent is the Chaos Bringer, and it’s not likely I’ll survive the fight, but I swear, I will get my spark back, and I will see that bastard locked back in the depths of an eternal slumber.”

            Error again considered for a moment, “Then it’s a truce.”

            “Truce.” Deathpire nodds.

            The lanky, white robot shivers, “Let’s get out of here.  We can talk more about this elsewhere, far away from here.”

            “Agreed.”

            Deathspire leaps into the air, heading toward the crack in the ceiling, but, stopping at the entrance, he looks down to notice that Error has a bit of a befuddled look on his face.

            “What’s wrong?”

            His eyes narrow, “Can’t fly.”

            The white Decepticon flies back down and extends a hand to the spikey Maximal.

            Error regards the extended hand for a second, then reaches up and clasps it with a thick, wide claw…

            As the two leave, you decide to take a closer look at the walls around you, in search of some more answers.

--If this is the lair of Unicron, why did they come here. I sure as hell wouldn't come here by my own free will..... then again, I already have, and I'm not leaving.... it's  almost as if I was drawn here…--

As you peer at the walls around you, floating high above the walls, you try to understand the chaotic jumble of bones.

Once again your mind coalesces the mass into solid pictures, and a story is slowly revealed…

 

            --Two forces fight in a tumultuous sea of chaos.  Each struggles for supremacy, one, beautiful and vast, devours all around it in a storm of confusion.  The other, strict, linear, a new force that takes the chaos around it and changes it into smooth lines, straight edges…

            The two become trapped during their fight and evolve.  Each splitting and spreading out, forming groups of new entities, forming new life.

            Time passes and the center of each goes dormant, each letting its offspring scour the Universe and continue their fight.--

           

            You have a feeling that everything there was history, the pictures then seem to take on a more prophetic tone…

 

            --A life is destroyed and rebuilt, this life becomes the harbinger of the return of Chaos.

            No, not rebuilt life… but rebuilt ‘un-life’?

            The herald of Chaos struggles and a new champion is chosen, a creature that lives within both worlds, a creature of Chaos and a creature of Order.  This creature becomes Chaos’ champion.—

 

            --And that can be you, Bladewing.—

            You jump, your red optic flaring to life across the dark chamber, “Who’s there!?!”       

            --Chaos--

 Earth: Unicron's tomb

            Your optics flare to life, shining a red beam across the vast room, scanning it, but only finding that it was as empty as it had been for ages.

            But there was something, not a presence, but something had spoken to you…

            --Bladewing…--

 

            A wave of warmth and light seem to unfold from the deepest recesses of your spark, spreading out like a vortex through the cavern.  Soon, all you can see is the tumultuous strands of orange and yellow energy, leaping and twisting, threading themselves in an infinite pattern whose beginning you can not see, and whose ending is constantly changing.

            You float in awe, surrounded by in a swirling tornado of light and sound.  Warmth infuses you and your joints seem to throb with the pulse of a celestial hymn.

            Power moves through you and holds you in rapture.

            Pieces of a great puzzle seem to float together and become tied, just as the threads of light do around you…

            You see the past months in a new light, chaotic acts playing against each other in a great dance, each even giving birth to a new thread.

            Megatron is found and his spark reborn…

            Across the vastness of space, his spark is felt and his warriors ban together with the sole thought of revenge…

            He tries a path of peace, but more sparks of chaos are introduced, more threads are spun into play.

            Terrorsaur...     

            The Tripredicus Council leaves to kill Megatron…

            Even attempts at help become chaos and breed new strands into the tapestry…

            A warrior is sent to help, but the energy used sparks a wave…

            The energy wave allows another spark escape, and gives it new life…

            Trypticon is reborn.

            The Autobots reform and they rebel against the very thing that has kept Cybertron in peace.  They go against their tenants and defend their ancient enemy.

            Meanwhile, the same ancient enemy conquers Cybertron in their absence.  The banner of the Decepticon’s is raised in Megatron’s name, but without his permission. 

            More strands shoot away from each event.

            Your mind reels trying to keep up with them.  You drag yourself back to one point, to the newest threads, to Deathspire…

Deathpire, marked as a herald of the Chaos Bringer.

            The Chaos Bringer… Unicron, but Deathspire struggles with it.

            ‘… The herald of Chaos struggles…’

            Deathspire fights it. He refuses to accept who and what he is, pitting
himself against Chaos itself.

--He is a fool.—

--He is a pawn.  His choice is to try to fight against the inevitable, yet he has no true choice.  His spark was created by me, and is mine to control whether he wants it or not.--

            The answering thought does not surprise you, and there is no doubt of who, or what it was.

--Unicron.—

--Deathspire has served his purpose, and my new breed of warriors is ready for the forging.  No more shall I rely on the forced assistance of half-hearted slaves.--

--What is your offer?—

--There is no offer, only Chaos.--

--Chaos is Unicron, and I accept chaos.

--It is who I am. --

            '.. and a new champion is chosen, a creature that lives within both worlds, a creature of Chaos and a creature of Order.'

--Unicron has offered me..--

'This creature becomes Chaos' champion.'
--I accept.—

More scenes flash before you, a spawn that will become a new god a Wargod, a dragon that will devour all, and a plague that will extinguish light. 

You see the universe superimposed as a massive circuit, and across that circuit spread the disorder and chaos of flesh and rot, a pulsating mass of organic material that destroys the logical order it touches.

--This is the war, serve me well...--

 

            You sit up, water dripping down into the shallows of the great lake around you.   The cavern was dark and silent.

            --Did I imagine it?—

            But already you knew you had not.  Already you could feel a new power and new energy pulsing through your body, filling you with the perilous energy and excitement that would only lead to your destruction. 

            You stand up from the mud and water, it’s cold, clamminess rolling off of your armor, and dripping down and forming ripples in the lake surface that you stand in.

            Your red optic flares again into life, your wings stretch with a humming sound as their razor sharp tips slice through the air.

            Wind howls down from above, sending a chill through you that slices your giddiness like a knife.

            --Where to now?—

 Earth: Unicron's tomb

            --Where to now?—

The words echo in your head.

--What do I do now? Am I to send word of Unicron's coming?—

No, Deathspire was his herald. You are his champion, but what is a champion?

--What am I meant to do? What exactly is a champion.... Especially one of Unicron's Champions?—

You float up toward the crag above you and out into the soft misty night.

--All I can do is prepare the world for his coming. --

But, how will he come. Will he not need a body?

--Perhaps I can help in retrieving him one.—

But where could you possibly come up with a body, especially one powerful enough for Unicron himself.

Point being, this is Unicron, he probably doesn't even need a body.

--He's not limited like we are to our sparks. --

He is eternal and omniscient.  If he wanted a body, he would make one.

--Maybe he just needs to be reawakened?—

But something there seems wrong too.  If he needed awakening then why was he already talking.

And on that point… he said you were ONE of his champions.  Who are the others?

The whole time he spoke to you, it wasn’t as if he was truly there, but rather that you went somewhere else.

Obviously, he was here once.  And they said that it was his lair.  But your spark tells you that he is no longer there.

The cavern seems to cry of emptiness, of loneliness, of desertion.

Something in you tells you that he is already awake, but not here…

        --But, I guess that is not for me to know. He will have his reasons. There is much that I do not know. I have received glimpses of the future, or at least one of many possible futures.  Now it is up to me to see them enacted…--

As for Deathspire, you must find a way to deal with him.

You can not let him know about your link to Unicron, but you must try to convince him of where his true allegiance should lie.

 It is ludicrous to fight Unicron. There is no possible future in taking on an enemy of his power.

You decide that he must be approached with extreme caution. Maybe even just appealing to his more chaotic side.  Or even possibly just sliding him into position to do Unicron’s will.

There are other sparks of chaos out there though. There still is Trypticon, and the bot called Terrorsaur.

You transform and speed back to the base before it becomes common knowledge that you had left. 

 

            The sunrise over Metroplex that morning held new meaning for you.  Its fiery corona seemed to roar a powerful radiance across the great expanse of space.  Churning and consuming, it was a beacon of power and a symbol of anger.  Its roiling surface echoed the pulsing of your own spark, and you could feel every micron of its energy within you.

            Below you the sounds of battle called out to you in the morning wind.  You jumped down from the spire atop the tall tower of Trypticon to investigate.

            Across the way, in the streets of Metroplex, there was definitely some fighting going on.

            You near, just as several explosions are fading.  You see below a group of scientists… human scientists, talking to the Maximal Battlestripe.  Another Maximal, this one black, and equally as ugly as Battlestripe stood watching.

            Pieces of drones lay scattered around the roads.

            You move in to investigate.

“Excellent Battlestripe.”  Started the lead fleshy, “You’re reflexes are perfect.  Those were the toughest drones we could muster.”

            The large cat-bot purred, “They still are no comparison to the ones the Predacon’s trained me on.  Their reaction times were segments slower than the labs.”

            “Still, it helped us to gather information on the technology they used to build you.  I…” the doctor broke off noticing the other Transmetal mutant in behind him. 

            He transformed into robot mode and stepped out of the shadows.

            “Ah… you must be the other one, Lightslayer!” The doctor started eagerly, “We’ve heard interesting things about you, but have been quite busy testing Battlestripe here.”

            The one called Lightslayer looked down at the human, “Testing?”

            “Yes, you see, your Transmetal II technology is quite rare.  Battlestripe here was ‘volunteered’ for some testing of his limits.  So far, we’re having trouble finding them.”

            Battlestripe shakes the smaller Maximal’s hand, “Well met, Lightslayer.”

            “Well met.”

            The doctor looks at them both, “Hey… perhaps we could set up a better test, a sparring match between the two of you!   The training rooms below can be used to create a controlled environment, and can register the impact of decreased blast hits, measuring them to tell us the full extent of your abilities!”

            Battlestripe shrugs, “I’m up for it.  What about you Lightslayer?”

            He pauses, “I can’t right now, there’s something I have to take care of… but maybe this afternoon I could, we’ll see.”

            “Well, just ask Metro, he’ll point you to me.” nods the large robot.  He turns and is escorted by the chattering scientist panel off into one of the buildings.

            --Hmm… the training room.  I wonder what would happen…--

            A thought begins to form, if the room below in Metroplex wasn’t working… Trypticon would be available for ‘practice’.

            And if they were practicing in Trypticon…

            --Let’s see how deposed the monster lizard might be to allowing a few untraceable… accidents.—

You leap off and head back to the purple city.

  Earth : Trypticon

            The walls again morphed to allow you access deep into the heart of the massive Transmetal Trypticon.  Carefully and silently you slid down into the womb of the terrible fortress, allowing no one to see or notice your passage.

            Of course, you had made sure earlier to let a few bots see you, just to let them know you were around.

            But now, now you wanted anonymity.  Now you came to strike a deal and perhaps forge allegiance.

            In front of you stood the massive spark chamber that was the heart of the Transmetal city.

            --What do you require?—

            The thought emanates in a suffocating wave of fear and power.  It was quite impressive, overwhelmingly so, and perhaps a bot that would care about his own existence would turn and run when in the path of such a force.

            “I have come… to feed your hunger.”

            --And by what means do you have to satisfy my desire for destruction?—

            “I can offer you that which you desire the most…”

            --Do not mince words.  What is it you want?—

            “What I want is to join forces.  You wish chaos, and I think I can…”

            --What is it you want?—

            “I want to disrupt the ranks, make them know fear.  They have grown too complacent here, and the air of peace rankles my spark.”

            --To disrupt them is not in my best interests, for now.—

            “Not in you best interests?!?”

            --No.  Imagine if you will that I do ‘disrupt’ them to feed my own sparks madness.  It would be a simple thing to crush them all.  The only force on this planet that may stand against me would be Metroplex himself, and in our current state of proximity, it would be an easy thing to immobilize him and destroy his forces in a matter of minutes.  In fact, the total annihilation of all life on this planet could be accomplished within 100 solar cycles of this planet.  However, then I will be left, alone, on a dead planet.  Now, imagine a rebuild into a space fortress, and the infinite possibilities that will open before me as I attain the freedom of space.  Destruction shall be my goal, and nothing shall stand in my way.—

            You step back, stunned at the enormity of what he proposes. Not out of fear, just out of the magnificent glory of his vision’s scope.

            “Then you will not help me?”

            --Help you?  Perhaps you misunderstand.  I have sensed in you a spark of the madness that drives even me.  Ever since I took over this body, I have been aware of those who share this spark, and I have reveled in it.  I tell you this, not out of pomposity, but rather as a warning.  I care not who I will destroy, and if you are near me then you to will be annihilated.  This you must know out of respect for the power that surrounds you now.—

            “Power?”

            --I sense in you… a change, something almost palpable, but not quite there.  I do not know what it is, but I sense that it will be amusing to see where you will go with it. And as far as me helping you?  Tell me what it is you wish…--

            “There is a pair of robots that will be sparring.  They are perhaps the most powerful symbols of new technology on this fortress.  I think it may be interesting to cause them to have an ‘accident.’ ”

            --Interesting, but they are not sparring here.  At least there have been no schedulings done.—

            “No, they are sparring in Metroplex.”

            --Accessing.  Yes, they have reserved the rooms there.  How do you propose to make them switch?—

            “Sabotage.”

            --If they are within my boundaries, then I will take care of the rest.—

           

            Quickly you made your way through Metroplex’ halls.  It would be a simple thing to short out the circuits.  The hard thing would be to do it to both reserved rooms without arousing suspicions.

             But you had… a plan. 

            The rooms were empty, and it was a simple thing to activate a training scenario.  The room was instantly replaced with gravity buffers and holographic images to simulate a vast world without letting you run into the walls.

            You began with simple fighting scenarios.  All the while using your swords as your weapons.  They were powered down, as per instructions.

            You kept steadily increasing the scenario.   The enemies became more plentiful, and tougher to beat.

            All the while you kept yourself locked on your positioning via a series of signals you were dispersing throughout the room.  You began to notice a lag of the correction fields that kept you safely away from the walls.

            As the training became intense, you began to force yourself closer to the wall, closer to the control unit that was centered there.  It was shielded in case of accidental attack.

            But you were a laser rod.

            As the battle once again intensified, you allowed a momentary simple glitch in your battle computers.  It registered on the training unit, but too late.  Your weapons ‘accidentally’ powered up, and your sword flew with blinding speed into the disguised and shielded wall unit.  The shield ripped apart with the fury of your attack.

            Electricity arced up your arm, and you used its force and pain to further your own damaging capabilities.  An automatic electro-feedback wave coursed through your frame and into the wall.  The hologram flickered once, twice, and then shut off.  The lights also crashed, and error warnings began to flare throughout the system.  Still, you remained locked with the electricity, burning your own dampers out. 

            Just as stasis lock was threatening to overtake you, you released the blade and fell to the floor.

            Dimly you were aware of others rushing into the room, and of the spray of retardent foam washing across your frame with a sizzling roar.

            A few cycles later, you were sitting up.  You had received some damage, but nothing that ten cycles in a CR would repair.  The burned wall unit looked considerably worse.

            “You ok?” It was a red robot, and Autobot.  You registered his name as Rapido.

            There were a few others, taking detailed looks at the wall.

            “Wha… what happened?”

            “You overshot the training rooms safeties.  Basically musta accidentally tripped your own weapons lockouts and shot through the shield unit.  Betcha couldn’t do that again if you tried.”

            “Is it bad?”

            “Shorted out the entire level of this building!  It’ll take most of the afternoon to repair it.  Of course, you’ll have to talk to Backdraft about it later.”

            “Why!  I was the one you got hurt!”

            “Yeah, well, I’m sure he’ll be ok with that, but it is what you’ll have to do.”

            “Ok, ok.  First I need some down time in a CR.  Maybe a few megacycles till I can get back to him.”

            “We’ll pass the word to him and to Megatron.  They’ll keep an eye out for you.”

            --Now to go get a quick repair and watch the fun with Trypticon…--

 You slip off and spend a short stint in one of Metroplex’ CR chambers.  Not long after you attempt to find Backdraft.

            He, however, was apparently in talking to Megatron at the time, and you decided to wait until after the festivities down below.

You go to a dumb terminal in Trypticon’s lower bays.  It was a nice, quiet place where you were unlikely to be seen.  Trypticon obliges you with a monitor linked into the Sim chambers.  First, a chamber showed that two bot’s were fighting.  They weren’t the two Transmetals, and at first you were confused.  One was a Destron of some kind, with heavy, thick armoring and a skull-like visage.  The other one was one of those slagging Earth mechs.  Odd that the two would be sparring, especially as intense as they were.

            Trypticon had created a jungle simulation for the two, and they were going at each other pretty fiercely.  As you watched for a few seconds, Trypticon edited out the background, just showing the two bots fighting in a bare room.  The specs for the battle parameters shown at the bottom of the screen, and you were amused to see that all safeties were switched off, but still… Why was he showing you this?

            Then you see the back door open and Lightslayer and Battlestripe strut in.  They seemed oblivious of the other two robots , and a split screen soon showed why.  They could not see the two robots at all, and Trypticon appeared to be manipuating them so their weapons blasts missed the two Maximals. 

The sim chambers operated on the basis of shielding units and gravitational controls.  The shielded spots simulated physical objects, as well as protected the walls and controls from most blasts.  The graphics program controled what each participant saw through remote input.  That allowed it to control and distort distance and reality with a complex set of programs.

You suppressed a giggle as you watched the two Maximals, completely unaware of the silenced and concealed battle going on around them.

“Computer,” Lightslayer calls out, “Random sim, one on one sparring match.”

            The room was quickly replaced with a hazy jungle floor, the same one that the other two had been using, but the fire and destruction they had wrought did not yet exist here.

            “How apropo…” mutters Battlestripe as he moves across the clearing and turns to face his opponent.

            A pulsing red orb hung between the two of them, waiting to signify the match beginning.

            “Here.” Battlestripe tosses a small circuit board to Lightslayer, “Install this and turn it to frequency 3.00a.”

            He looks at the small board, “What is it?”

            “It’ll send your vitals to the scientists over at Metro, so they can see how we measure up.”

            “Ok.” He shoves the board into a panel that swivels open on his side.

            The orb pulses once more, and then turns green.

            Battlestripe wastes no time.  He transforms into cat mode and launches himself in a fury of claws and teeth at the smaller Lightslayer.

            He, however, opts for car mode, and zooms underneath of his leap, transforming and firing his shoulder pulse cannons at him…

           

            Soon the jungle is a mess of flame.    Lightslayer had lost track of the blue and silver tiger, and was now crouched atop a building attempting to get a better look.

            Movement catches his eyes, and he fires a few blasts toward it.

            Trypticon splits the screen into three segments.  One contains the battle as Lightslayer and Battlestripe must perceive it, the next the battle as the Destron and human must see it, and the third, was stripped of graphics, and showed the groupings positions from each other.

On the battlefields, a new element had been added. Wherever the other set of combatants were fighting, now appeared a squadron of heavily armed mech drones, overlaying them in the eyes of the opposite pair of sparring opponenst.

            Lightslayer fires off a few more blasts  at this new threat and jumps away, just before the building is vaporized by a blast from the Earth Mech.  

            Both sides begin to fire at each other in confusion.  You can make over the sounds of commands being yelled.

            “Computer, end simulation.” Lightslayer’s voice.

            “Computer, simulation abort.” The human’s voice.

            “Computer, answer!” Lightslayer…

“Computer!   Trypticon!?” the human…

            The two groups turn to face each other…

           

            Immediately the klaxons on Trypticon started up.

            “What are you doing?”

            --Finishing the scene…--

            A comm unit clicks on beside you, “Trypticon,” It was Megatron, “what is going on?”

            “Security measures in Sim rooms has activated.” The deep voice rumbles across the unit.

            “Security?”

            “There is a code that activates if the sims are started by a non-Decepticon unit.”

            “What?!?”

            “It was dormant in programming until now.  All safeties are off, and the combatants are seeing illusions.”

            “Kill the simulation.  Immediately.”

            “Negative.  Can not access the program.”

            “I’m on my way.”

            The comm cuts off.

            A picture appears showing the hallway outside of the room, BlastOff joins Megatron and SpaceCase there, and Backdraft follows close behind.

            “It seems” The newly rebuilt Transmetal Combaticon explained to them,  “that when the sim rooms are activated by a non-Decepticon party, the security system registers it and locks them in with a program designed to eventually make them fight against each other.  It’s really rather sophisticated.  Musta been some bored Decepticons who bothered with this one.”

            “Can you shut it off?” Backdraft asks.

            “It’ll take time.”

            “Trypticon warned me when he received a distress signal about five cycles ago.”  Megatron muttered as he stared thoughtfully at the door, “Apparently there is also a buffer field to keep them from calling for help.”

            Backdraft pounds on the door, “They may be killing each other in there!  Let’s blast the door it!”

            “No good.” Comments Blastoff from where he is working, “The shielding that protects the room itself is pretty strong.  If you don’t blast through it with one punch then your likely to fall victim to a backlash of energy.  Plus, you may end up sending a wave inward, even if you do punch through.”

            “Great.” You mutter.

            Blastoff returns to his work…

            You can’t help but laugh…

 Earth: Trypticon

Inside the room, Lightslayer had his sword at the Destron’s throat.  Surprisingly, the Destron reached up and grabbed the blade, sending energy pulsing through it in a firestorm of green energy.

There is a humming whine as green electrical fire arced up across the steel blade. A shattering explosion tosses both of them across the jungle floor.

They struggle to their feet, but Lightslayer, despite the loss of his arm, has the advantage.  He was to his feet, and had leveled a shoulder cannon in the Destron’s direction.

Suddenly, the room glitched.

There was an explosion and everything went dark for an instant.  Red lights filled the smokey interior, and the illusion faded.

Zabgoth and Lightslayer stood staring at each other in confusion, and Battlestripe stopped thrashing the EDF mech, whose arm he had ripped free, and whose head he had just crushed.

There was also a light filtering in from the doorway, and there stood several silhouetted forms.

“STOP!!”  Yelled Backdraft.

 “What the slag?!?” Zabgoth shook his head in disbelief as he struggled up to his feet.

White lights flickered on, revealing the four combatants all in very damaged form, and alone in an otherwise bare walled, empty room.  Backdraft, and the others were rushing into the room, and Megatron stood where he had apparently blasted the control panel for Trypticon’s sim room.

Backdraft rushed over to help extract Battlestripes claws carefully from the Earth mech, “There was a hidden security protocol in Trypticon’s circuits.   It was activated when a non-Decepticon tried to use the chamber.”

 “Security protocol?!?” Zabgoth asked

“Yes.” Megatron turned toward the group, “Apparently it locks down the room and overlays holograms until it managed to confuse its prisoners into destroying themselves.

Lightslayer grabs the charred remnants of his arm, “Works pretty well.”

Zabgoth smacks his forehead, “Shoulda guessed… no Mech fights like that!”

Lightslayer returned, “I should have known also.  I was wondering why a mech was throwing a mace and then the whole charged weapon thing…”

Backdraft pries open the command module of the EDF mech.  A human bearing the markings of an EDF Lieutenant staggers out, a little bruised and beat up, but relatively undamaged. “You mean we almost got scrapped because HIS people didn’t find a SECURITY BREACH!?!?” 

Megatron glared over at him, “Be glad we got here before you were terminated.”

“Be GLAD?!?! I’ve got over a billion in damages to this mech!”

Backdraft stepped in, “We’ll take care of the damages.  It was an accident, you can’t expect us to be sure…”

“I don’t expect YOU to be sure of anything on this scrap, I expect HIM to be sure.  It is HIS city.  Why should…”

Megatron seems bored with the conversation, “Take his mech and repair it.”  He motions to Blastoff and then trudges out of the room.

“I’m supposed to repair THAT piece of insignificant technology?”  The Transmetal Combaticon complains.

Backdraft shakes his head, “Just do it.  I’ll have someone from Metroplex help you in the labs.  Maybe you could even work on a few upgrades just for kicks.”

“Yee… haw…” droles the insolent Decepticon, “Spacecase, give me a hand with this thing.”

“I believe I will help oversee the repairs?”  The Lieutenant asks.

“You know anything about tech?”  Blast-Off looks down at the human.

“I am fully versed in the standard technology of your race, as well as in heavy armaments and explosives.” He turns back, “I quite enjoyed our match, Zabgoth.  Perhaps sometime we can do it again?”

 

Shortly, you decide it would be a good time to visit Backdraft and apologize…

--Apologize?!  Why should I do that!  It’d just look more suspicious, after allit was a fault in his equipment that caused the ‘problem’  I just helped it out a bit.—

You buzz his door.

 “Come in?” his voice speaks through the comm.

“Can I help you?” The big Cybertron was sitting behind a desk, examining some files on a computer screen.

“My name is Bladewing.”

“Oh, yes, the one who damaged the… sim chambers.” He states tiredly.

“I damaged it?   It seems to me that it was YOUR faulty equipment that nearly got me scrapped while I was simply sparring for some exercise!”

“Faulty equipment!?!?” The big bot stands up in irritation.

“Perhaps you should look into a serious upgrade for your shoddy Autobot technology.”

“Upgrade!?!?  Why you… I’ll tell you what.  Next time, just use your own chambers.  Perhaps the incident over in Trypticons’ sim rooms is more to your liking!”

“Hmph, from what I hear, that was simply programming error.”

“Yeah, amazing isn’t it… how much more advanced the Decepticon tech was.  After all, we only slightly injured you.  Four beings almost bought the scrapyard over there!!!!!”

You step up, holding your hands in front of you, “Look, if it makes you feel any better… I’ll go down and see if they need assistance with the repairs… Of course, I’m no technician, my specialty is espionage… but I know something about…”

“Did you say espionage?”

“Uh…. Yeah.” That caught you by surprise.

“You’re that one that was messing with the Tripredicus council.”

“Hmph, yeah.  I’m the one that stopped the Tripredicus council repeatedly!”

“Espionage…  Ok, you’ll be reassigned later this evening.”

“Rea… what?!?” That REALLY caught you by surprise.

“RE-assigned.  You will be informed tonight of what your new duties will be.”

“But… wh… I…”

“It wasn’t a question or a request.  You may leave now.”

You turned, still dazed by being reassigned out of the blue, and stumble out of the room.

 Earth : Metroplex

--What?!? Transferred, transferred to WHERE?!?—

Who did he think he was, after all, it’s not like you were some do-goody Cybertron he could go order around!

--I’ll go to Megatron!  He’ll…--

He’ll ship you out with a blink of an eye.  After all, you were Trypticon’s first master.  He probably holds you in contempt still…

And you’re sure his little compressor buddy Starscream wouldn’t mind shipping you to the Jungle mines of Atarrli!

--Great, just GREAT!—

You tried to calm down, and found that flying proved the best way to let off some steam.

You returned a day later and low on energon.

Who’d have thought that spinning this globe twice would take so much out of you…

As you trudged back to your quarters, a small robot flitted in. It was a messenger drone and handed you a small message chip.  You plug it into your circuits to find a short little message telling you to be out on deck tomorrow morning at 0400 hours for departure.

That was it.  No details, no destinations…

--SLAGGING PRIMUS BOLT PIECE OF QUINTESSA…--

A thought that had been echoing through your processors all night came back. 

--I’ll leave, they’ll never find me, why go on some do-boy errand!?—

--Because you must.—

--Unicron?!?—

--It will lead you to your home, it will lead you to the progeny.—

“The Progeny?  Who’s that?”

No answer.

“Home?  Cybertron?  Do you mean Cybertron?”

No answer.

You weren’t mistaken.  That was Unicron, and if he was right… a ride off of this furball planet sounded like a great idea.  And, if you could cause problems for Backdraft’s little plan once you got home… well then, all the better.

 

The next morning found you outside in the pre-dawn.  Misty fog covered the silvery decks in the dim light, and there was a muted sound to the world.

A ship sat there, prepped and ready.  It was a dangerous looking little thing, a small personal battle shuttle, and it looked fairly teched out. 

Others were gathered around the ship.  You chuckled to yourself as you recognized three of them, the Destron and his human sparring buddy from the previous day, and the Transmetal Lightslayer as well.  The fourth was a tall non-alligned robot.  He appeared to have a jet transformation and was camouflaged blues and grays. 

No one uttered a word as you walked past them and boarded the ship.  Sitting down at a computer console on the small bridge you stared silently out at the blue waters of the Atlantic ocean for the last time. 

The others sat around you, and the new bot sat at a raised central chair that had a huge amount of computer controls around it.

--Controls to run the ship from one place…--

 Earth : Metroplex

--What?!? Transferred, transferred to WHERE?!?—

Who did he think he was, after all, it’s not like you were some do-goody Cybertron he could go order around!

--I’ll go to Megatron!  He’ll…--

He’ll ship you out with a blink of an eye.  After all, you were Trypticon’s first master.  He probably holds you in contempt still…

And you’re sure his little compressor buddy Starscream wouldn’t mind shipping you to the Jungle mines of Atarrli!

--Great, just GREAT!—

You tried to calm down, and found that flying proved the best way to let off some steam.

You returned a day later and low on energon.

Who’d have thought that spinning this globe twice would take so much out of you…

As you trudged back to your quarters, a small robot flitted in. It was a messenger drone and handed you a small message chip.  You plug it into your circuits to find a short little message telling you to be out on deck tomorrow morning at 0400 hours for departure.

That was it.  No details, no destinations…

--SLAGGING PRIMUS BOLT PIECE OF QUINTESSA…--

A thought that had been echoing through your processors all night came back. 

--I’ll leave, they’ll never find me, why go on some do-boy errand!?—

--Because you must.—

--Unicron?!?—

--It will lead you to your home, it will lead you to the progeny.—

“The Progeny?  Who’s that?”

No answer.

“Home?  Cybertron?  Do you mean Cybertron?”

No answer.

You weren’t mistaken.  That was Unicron, and if he was right… a ride off of this furball planet sounded like a great idea.  And, if you could cause problems for Backdraft’s little plan once you got home… well then, all the better.

 

The next morning found you outside in the pre-dawn.  Misty fog covered the silvery decks in the dim light, and there was a muted sound to the world.

A ship sat there, prepped and ready.  It was a dangerous looking little thing, a small personal battle shuttle, and it looked fairly teched out. 

Others were gathered around the ship.  You chuckled to yourself as you recognized three of them, the Destron and his human sparring buddy from the previous day, and the Transmetal Lightslayer as well.  The fourth was a tall non-alligned robot.  He appeared to have a jet transformation and was camouflaged blues and grays. 

No one uttered a word as you walked past them and boarded the ship.  Sitting down at a computer console on the small bridge you stared silently out at the blue waters of the Atlantic ocean for the last time. 

The others sat around you, and the new bot sat at a raised central chair that had a huge amount of computer controls around it.

--Controls to run the ship from one place…--

The human had boarded his mech, making seating him a little easier.  For a few minutes the group of you sat in silence, the multicolored lights of the controls the only real light around you. The new bot, apparently the captain of the ship worked on the controls, finishing the prep of the engines.  Then without warning, the engines shifted quietly and there was a sense of vertigo as the Earth slid away from below the small warship.

Hyperspace: Skyjammer’s (still un-named!!) ship

 

As the stars outside smeared into a blur of light, Zabgoth popped his seat back and threw his legs up on the controls.

“So, now that we’ve had our cheery beginnings into the realm of espionagggggay, guess it’s time that we figure out who we all are….”

Skyjammer’s control area lowered a bit , giving him a better view of you all.   The gray green robot smirked at the skull-visaged Destron, “Your ideal, why don’t you start the class off… tell us your name and what you did last summer.”

“Harumph,” Zabgoth snorts, “Very well… I… amtheillustriousmadbastardwhatcalledthescourgeofspaceandthementalpathwaysofthecerebrallyweakminded… Zabgoth.” He smiles, spinning his chair around as he talked.

“I, was one of the two who brain-mastered this daring adventure!”

Lightslayer shook his head in amusement, “I guess I would be the other one, Lightslayer.  My story is pretty simple, while investigating the ruins of a Maximal school that had fallen victim to the raiders… I met up with our Mad Bastard and a contingent of Decepticons that we had to dispatch.  From there we made a stop off at a Decepticon hideout, stole some secrets… that led to this mission… and made our way to Earth.”

You look up from your seat where you had been brooding, your optic glared red in annoyance as you snapped, “And I don’t suppose anyone would be willing to queue me in on WHAT our mission is?!”

            Skyjammer looks over at you, “You don’t know?”

            You stand and pace the small area of the bridge, “NO, I do NOT know.  All I know is that commander Shaftdraft told me to be on that deck early in the slaggin’ morning!  I don’t even know anything about you people!!”

            “Well, my name’s Skyjammer, I’m captain of this ship.  You apparently have been drafted for your espionage capabilities to return to Cybertron on a mission of seek, determine, and delay.”

            “Can you be a little more cryptic, my processors haven’t had their daily oil cup this morning…”

            “Yes,” adds the human, “I only have the vague notion of what’s going on… Why don’t we all share what we know.”

            “Ok, boys,” Zabgoth start, “Here’s the scoop.  Me and Lightslayer there stole some plans that, when pieced together with other information, led to the theory that back at Cybertron, Clench is building an army to prepare for our return.”

            You shrug, “So he’s recruiting… big deal.”

            “No, not recruiting, ‘building.’  He’s got a setup that is rigged to mass produce an army of drones.”

            “Oooo, drones,” sneers the Lieutenant, “Our Admiral’s afraid of a bunch of mindless go-bots?”

            Lightslayer shakes his head, “No, he’s afraid of thousands of transformable, heavy armored weapons that are controlled under a single sentience and armed with weapons of unparalleled destructive power!”

            You fold your arms, “What do you mean?”

            The Lieutenant answered, “The Vehicon armoring, like what Zabgoth boasts.” 

Zabgoth grins at you as the Lieutenant continues, “The drones will be built with that armor… but what do you mean about ‘a single sentience?’”

Lightslayer finished, “Clench has built a control harness… we think… that can control all of the drones at one time.”

Skyjammer shakes his head, “Not possible.  The processing power…”

“Is amplified by the harness.  It would take most of his concentration, but the scientists think that it IS possible.”

You plop back down in a chair, “So what are WE supposed to do about it?”

Skyjammer answers, “I fly you in, find out if it’s true, if so, destroy the manufacturing plants.”

“So we ARE returning home.”  You mutter.

“Yep, that’s write!” Zabgoth slaps you on the shoulder, “Neon lights, energon bars, wide steel covered streets…  Y’know it’ll be nice visiting the ol’ shack!”

Lieutenant Haysworth looks up, “What about planetary defenses.  Won’t we get shot down as soon as we show in Cybertron’s orbit?”

“In it’s system is more like it,” answers Skyjammer, “The moons that orbit are all armed and populated, and if the Warworld…” he trails off for a second before picking up, “If the Warworld has control of those defenses, we may have a bumpy ride.”

Lightslayer looks over at you, “That’s where you come in…”

Skyjammer nodds his head, “Backdraft left us several logs of old codes for the Cybertron defense net, plus I have a few in the ships databanks.  He even managed to pull a few old Decepticon codes from Tyrpticon’s memory.”

You shake your head in disbelief, “You mean I’ve got some archaic codes from a few centuries back, and a handful of codes that any sane conqueror would have erased as soon as assuming power, and you want me to glide us on in, without any problems!??!?!  This is a SUICIDE mission!!”

Zabgoth leans back a little farther in his chair, “I prefer to think of it as having a prolonged continuance deficiency…”

The Lieutenant shakes his head, “Don’t you think you can handle it?”

You look over at the white mech-bot, affronted at his dismissal, “Of COURSE I can handle it, fleshling!”

“You just sounded a little doubtful… or scared.”

“WHAT?!?”

“I mean, if you don’t think you can do your job, I can always…”

You stand up, your optic glaring red, but Zabgoth jumps between the two of you, “Hey, hey, no fighting on the bridge, after all, I’ve seen what his rail gun can do, and I really don’t feel like free floating back home!”

You sit back down, glaring at the Earth mech, “I will do my job, just fine.”

“Now back to introductions…”

You look around, seeing everyone expecting you to answer, “Name’s Bladewing.”

            “Oooookayyy, and what about our good Earth man?”

            “Names Lieutenant Phillip Haysworth. Technician, First Class, Demolitions, First Class,             Mech Pilot, First Class.  I’ve worked on upgrading my ride until it’s more than a match for any Cybertronian.”

            “You’re dreaming!  I had you!” Zab laughs.

            The Lieutenant shares in the laughter.

 

            The ship was small, made for one person.  There was the bridge, which barely held the five of you, an area behind that with energy stations and a CR chamber, a small bay of ships below, just a few personal sleds, and a weapons locker…

            Now the weapons locker was interesting.  It was crammed with all kinds of weapons, gadgets, shielding devices.  All of them cutting edge technologies from a varied base of worlds!

            --At least we’re going in well equipped…--

 Hyperspace: The Crusader-1

 

                        Three days passed uneventfully.  You and the rest of the crew talked over several scenarios and things that could be done upon reaching Cybertron.  Zabgoth even suggested stopping at other planets, more places where he had ‘friends’ that may be able to help.

            However, the voting majority decided that it would be best to get to Cybertron as quickly as possible to assess the situation from there.

            The group did finally decide to pay a visit to some of Zabgoth’s friends on the surface of the planet… provided they were still there.  It gave you a starting point at least.  Everyone agreed that to run in with guns blazing would probably be one of the dumber things to do…

            The ship was cramped too, that urged everyone on to wanting to make landfall as quickly as possible.  So, on the third day, spirits were tense, but hopeful as the ship dropped out of hyperspace, just beyond the arc of Cybertron.

 

            “Dead Space Jammers on.”  Zabgoth reports.  The ship would now be surrounded in a bubble of ‘dead’ space with only a small window open for transmission purposes.

            “Shields off, and stealth skin active.” Lightslayer adds.

            Skyjammer nods, most of his attention on piloting the ship.  The Lieutenant was manning a gun pod, just in case.  You was already working feverishly on the sensors, trying to realign them and shelling out encryption codes in a vein attempt to pass the security codes on Cybertron’s defense net.

            A cluster of asteroids floats past the ship as you dodged deftly toward the outer rings.

            Zabgoth looks down, “We’re nearing the outer defense satellites now.  I hope you boys put on clean your filters this morning.”

            Off in the darkness of space, a twinkle appears.  At first it could be thought of as an illusion, but then the twinkle picks up a definite pattern.

            “That’s one of them.” Lightslayer mutters.

            It would be a small satellite, not one of the main weapons.  In fact, they were more decoys than anything else.  The really deadly things wouldn’t be seen so easily.

            Pulse-less seconds floated by as the blinking light became clearer, and as Skyjammer veered to the side to avoid the satellite’s visuals.

            The satellite dropped behind without mishap.

            “Does that mean we made it?” Zabgoth chuckled.

            Just then, one of Cybertron’s moons came into view.  It rapidly grew in size on the monitor until it was clearly visible.  Cybertron itself was still lost in the darkness of space, but the moon twinkled with life.  Skyjammer kept the ship pointed dead at the moon, planning on using it’s atmosphere to cruise through and slingshot you into Cybertron’s orbit.

            “Do we have a lock on the Warworld yet?” you ask quietly.

            Lightslayer taps a command in and a small section changes on the forward screens. On it, you can see Cybertron, and a large red moon in close orbit.  You can also make the expanded ring of moons which you were now entering.

            The black surface of the moon below you veered away as Skyjammer pulled the Crusader-1 alongside and around the sparkled surface.

            You could make out low-lying lights that crawled along the dark surface… vehicles that moved or transformers that flew through the chilled darkness of the moon.

            Still, you worked rapidly and desperately, trying to draw away the attention of a million different electronic eyes.

            The moon shot out from below you and over the horizon appeared the great mass of Cybertron, far, far away from you.

            The planet should be dark, being near no direct light at this time, but instead it was spotted with an incalculable amount of lighting, enabling the silvery orb to sparkle in full detail.  Unlike the moon, it was never dark on Cybertron.   Lights moved and swept the planet’s surface. Always, it was a breathtaking sight. 

            Two more moons were in orbit, considerably closer to the planet, one enormous, almost a third of Cybertron’s size, the other much smaller.  Smaller than the one you just passed.  Both were arrayed off to the sides from the approach pattern that Skyjammer had chosen.

            An approach pattern that put the Warworld on the opposite side of Cybertron…

            Already, you had been in Cybertron space for most of a megacycle, the Crusader-1’s engines burning steadily, driving you home with a swift wing.

            Time crawls by as each of you stays alert and wary.

Then, as if it were nothing, you were entering Cybertron’s atmosphere.

 

            Skyjammer moved the ship across the surface, staying low , but not low enough to attract undo attention.  Most of Cybertron still had regular air traffic, and keeping to those traffic lanes seemed to work fine. 

            Zabgoth pointed him to a city called Prosiphony.  It was on this side of the planet, meaning there would be some travel involved in returning to Iacon, but it would be easier to do from the ground than in the warship.

            A few kilometers outside of the city sat a Cyber-plain.  Flat expanses of metallic ground, dotted with the occasional housing station, or vast smelting pool.  It was out in these areas that stores of raw materials were created, and it was here where you hoped your friend still stayed.

            “He’s a bit of a loner.”  Zabgoth says as you step down from the Crusader-1’s gangplank. 

            Lightslayer was in cat mode, sniffing the unfamiliar Cybertronian air, “This isn’t anything like your last… ‘friend’ is it?” he gave Zabgoth a sharp look.

            “Who was his last friend?” You stepped out from the shadows underneath the ship.

            Skyjammer turned at the entryway as the Lietenant’s tank hovered out and started locking the hatch, “The Decepticon they brought back in pieces.  Apparently he tried to hijack and kill them.”

            The tank’s hatch opens and the Lieutenant’s head pokes up, “Oh, great.  Aren’t we here to look for help?”

            “It’s cool, he’s nothing like that… This one is a real friend.  He had me run a lot of shipments for him…”

            “So, where is he?  It’s not like he could miss a ship landing in his backyard.” You scanned around nervously.

            “Over there!”  L:ightslayer called, he had walked out from under the wings of the Crusader and were looking out at a low-lying factory about a kilometer away.

            “Yeah, that’s his place alright.”

            “Then let’s go…” Skyjammer transforms and hovers for a second, while the rest of you change as well…

 Cybertron: The Ranch

 

            Skyjammer looks around, “I’ll go ahead and scout around.  Zabgoth I want you to come with me to contact your friend.  The rest of you stay here with the ship.”

            Lightslayer grunts, “Wouldn’t it be better to stay together?”

            Zabgoth shrugs, “Why put all our necks on the line? Whazza matter kitty, you gonna miss my purty face?”

            Lightslayer hangs his tongue in disgust, “Now that you mention it, maybe a little lone time would be welcome…”

            “Ok then, Zabgoth?” Skujammer transforms into a V winged jet mode. Zabgoth followed in his flight mode, a form of car with wings…

            You decided to melt away while no one was paying attention.  Quickly, you leap up and transform, apply your silvery coat to turn practically invisible in the Cybertronian sky.

            --I think I’ll just follow and see what this ‘friend’ has to offer me…--

 

            Within segments you had arched across the warm metallic plains and reached the outlying building that Lightslayer had seen.  Of Zabgoth’s friend there was no sign, but the shuffling of some creatures could be heard from a nearby pen.

            They both transformed and landed. You hovered nearby and watched.

            There was a small, rectangular building that sat squat to the ground, surrounding it was a fair amount of imported ‘sand’ that had some odd looking gray scrub brushes growing all over in it and all was enclosed in a thick barricade-like fence.

You could see from your vanage point the thick creature that lumbered up from the building and began to curiously wander around the side to where the two transformers were.

“What’s that noise?” Skyjammer looked uneasy.

            “Hmmm, Bonecrusher was always a little weird.  Not much for an exterior decorator, though.”  Zabgoth plucked one of the scraggly looking bushes from the dirt.

            The beast stuck it’s head around the corner, and seeing the two gave off a strange bellow and charged.

            It’s bulk was supported on six thick trunk like legs that all worked in a shuffling unison to propel it angrily in your direction.

            “Holy cows Batman!”  Zabgoth jumps to the side as it nearly tramples him.  It was twice his size, far larger than most flesh beasts.

            Skyjammer quickly pull a blaster and fire at the creature, hitting it’s flank with a shredding charge, but seeming to do little to the armored skin.  It turns in range and glares down at both of them.

            “That was good, piss it off next time why don’t you!”  Zabgoth scrambled back and away from the creature, over to where you were standing.

            “Should I shoot it again?” Skyjammer seemed unsure due to the lack of damage.  The creature began to paw the ground threateningly.  It lowered its head, a dangerous looking ‘Y’ shaped nose horn pointed toward the two of them.

            “No, let’s just sit here and see if it goes away.” Zabgoth snaps back as it began its charge.

            Skyjammer fires another blast into the creature, shattering it’s horn and sending a spray of dark blood across the ground… but not stopping it from coming.

            The two of them ditched to either side.

            Two loud shots cracked out as it began to turn.

            You had missed seeing the newcomer on top of the squat building.  But his shots seemed to have the effect of making the creature think twice. It suddenly looked unsure and began to back off.

            “Great!  It’s getting the message!” Zabgoth cheered.

            Skyjammer stood up, “Yeah, but I didn’t fire the shots.”

            “Nope.” The newcomer called out, “An’ I’d appreciate it if’n you didn’t go shootin’ at mah cows.”

            You watched as he took the two double-barreled guns in either hand and cocked them in unison with a quick jerking action then re-aimed them at the two Cybertronians.

            His coat was brown and shaggy, and golden horns were atop his head.  The beast mode head of a buffalo made up his torso plate.

            “Now, I expect I’m lookin’ for an explanation’ how you two are sitting here shooting up mah cattle?”

            “Bonecrusher!” Zabgoth yells out, “You shag brained excuse for a backwoods inbred Maximal!  It’s ME!  Zabgoth!”

            From beneath a mop of fur, the Maximal peered at him for a second before his face split into a wide grin, “ZABGOTH!”  His guns were up in a flick, and the thick-bodied Bonecrusher was on the ground, shooing away his ‘cattle’.

 

            As he works to get the creature back in the ‘barn’, he explains that he’s been working on supplying the rather large demand for meats that have become more and more a favorite delicacy for the Beast Warriors on Cybertron.  Of course, it wasn’t a necessity, but a great many Preds, and none too few Maximals like to ‘dine’ as sort of an entertainment activity now.

            The large creatures supplied a great quantity of meat per, and were fairly cheap to raise.  He just had to make a stock pen that could hold them, and vegetation that they liked.  Hence, the barricaded fencing and the scrub bushes.

           

            “We’ve got a few others back at the ship, and we’re looking for a place to hole up for a few days.” Zabgoth finally asks.

            “Hole up?  You in trouble?”

            “Well, sortof.  You see, we’re just returning to Cybertron now, and we were sent here from the Cybertronian Armada.”

            “The Cybertronian Armada!?  HAH!  That’s a good one!”  He slaps you on the shoulder.

            “No, really.   We’re advanced scouts to see how Cybertron’s holding up.”

            “Holding up?”

            “After the siege?”

            “Oh, you mean that mess over in Cybertropolis?”

            “…yeeeeaaahhh…”

            “Cost me a pretty penny in shipments.  Shut the slaggin’ city down for nearly three weeks!  Now, Iacon is nothing but hot slag, but I hear their even allowing that to be rebuilt.”

            Skyjammer butts in, surprised at the news, “You mean that Cybertropolis is open again?”

            “Sure, Decepticon’s just wanted control.  Nothin’ but a political battle from what I understood.”

            “Political battle?!”  Zabgoth gapes, “They slagged a city, shut it’s surrounding cities down, killed thousands, and you say it’s just political!?”

            “Hey parnter, back up.  I’m no soldier, not anymore.  What they fight over is their business.  So they say they’re in control, big deal.   Don’t effect my work none too much.  But hey, you want a place to hole up, you got it.  Get your friends and we’ll head back the homestead.  It’s about five kilometers East of here…”

 

 Cybertron: the Ranch

 

    Zabgoth and Skyjammer quickly accept Bonecrusher's offer of hospitality.  Once the animals were locked down, the three of them made their way back to the ship.

    You head back in front of them, landing by the ship's doors and waiting.  As they reached the ship, you greeted them. "I think that after a short rest, I should be the one to head to Cybertropolis."

    "Whoa," Skyjammer steps up to you, "Who said anything about splitting up?"

    "It's what you two just did."

    Zabgoth grins, "The bladebot want's to risk his wings, let 'im."

    Skyjammer thinks about it for a second and shruggs, "We'll need some preliminary mappings at any rate.  I guess if any of us couldmake it he could.  C'mon lets go talk to the others."

    The four of you board the Crusader-1.

   

    You walked in at the end of a conversation...

    An unknown voice was saying, "ok, I can take you there..."

    As you entered the bridge, you could see the Lietenant, Lightslayer, and a small, green and yellow Maximal.

    Zabgoth snorted, "Boohaw?  Who be this?"

    The small Maximal jumped up from the oversized seat and uttered a squeal.

    You and Skyjammer stepped in.  The camoflaged captain of the ship grimaced, "Oh great, another fuzz bot to shed on my seats."

    Lightslayer shrugs, "Zabgoth, Skyjammer, Bladewing... this is Springback.  We were just discussing a little recon trip to Cybertropolis.  It seems that the drone army is active and running."

    Zabgoth grimaced, "Well, this is Bonecrusher..." as the thick coated Maximal squeezes into the already overcrowded bridge area, "He's offered us shelter at his ranch so we can map out a strategy."

    Skyjmamer ducks out and reappears in the overhead captains seat, freeing some floor space, "And Blades there just volunteered to take a trip into Cybertropolis as well."

    "I can handle it alone..."you snort contemptuosly, "The others would only be an impediment."

    Springback shudders, "He's creepy, where'd you pick him up, the cutlery section at Bot-Mart?"

    You glare violently at the small Maximal.

    Bonecrusher holds up his hands, "Y'all need ta jest comn over to the Ranch, settle down and then decide what to do from there.  Won't do much good to go running around in the dark without a plan!"

    Skyjammer nods, "Yeah, I think that's our best bet..."

    Lightslayer holds up his hands, "but what if the drone army IS already operational..."

    The Lietenant shakes his head, "Then it won't make a slag bit of difference whether we go today or tomorrow... now will it."

The engines begin to hum outside.

    Skyjammer leans over, "Now, where exactly is this ranch?"

 Cybertron: The Ranch

   

    Later, the group of you sit around a large table.  On it was spread the mapping consul from the Crusader.  Cybertroplis was displayed in minute detail across it.  The massive city rose like a 3D hologram, illuminating the areas that Springback pointed to.

    "Like I said," the small Maximal shrugged, "They're moving from spot to spot, on patrols and such."

    Bonecrusher leaned against the wall, with a maximal ranch hand named Armordillo in the shadows behind him, both watching impassively as your group bickered about what was to be done.  Now, the shaggy bot leaned forward a bit, "Y'know, he's right.  'dillo here's been on the delivery runs.  Sez that you gotta register and sign a few documents and passports to even get into the city.  Apparently everything is under lock and key by the new government.  It hasn't slowed anyone down really, not now that there's the chance to get back to business."

    You just continued to watch from the shadowy corner which you now inhabited.

    "So then, how do we get back inside?"  Skyjammer was looking at the limited access ports.  The city was fairly easily defendable, at least from land assault.  Of course, the massive blasts and sheer brutality of the Warworld's attack was enough to bring it to its knees...

    You had enough.  It was time to state your position, "We don't.  I do." 

    Lightslayer stood up, "You can't just go waltzing in there alone.  Springback and I..."

    "Can stay here.  Where I'm safe!!" you snapped with considerable venom, "You brought me along for just such work.  You are a warrior, a tactician!  He... he is a rabbit!  I'll be far safer alone than with you taggin on my heels."

    Skyjammer holds his hands up, "Look, I see both of your points, but if we send one out, then the chances for his being destroyed, and the rest of us never finding out is multiplied by a thousand."

     You promptly saw that this was going nowhere.  The silvery metallic coating spread across your surface with a cold electric feel, and once again you faded back into the shadows.

    You were out of the room in a flash, not disturbing the bantering fools in the least.  Outside, you transform and hit the skies over the heated plains of metal.  The gray and red sky was hot.  Cybertron was fairly close to a star at the moment, and it's solar heat burned down onto the smooth metal sheets out here in these wastelands, being deflected only partially by the thin Cybertronian atmosphere. 

    You streaked away from the Ranch with all due speed, set to investigate the city for, and by, yourself.

    --Slag those moron-bots!  I want a closer look at Cybertropolis, and at the Warworld.  If I see them again, perhaps I can see about starting my spare parts collection up again!!--

   

    Soon, the plains were passed behind you, and you flew over populated areas of Cybertron.   Unobserved you streaked above thousands of busy Cybertronians, going about their busy daily lives of work and prosperity.  Each completely unaware that one of Unicron's chosen was within their midst.

    Part of you felt sad that they would all face deactivation so soon, that their lives would be sacrificed to the appetites of the god of Chaos.

    Always had you felt apart from them, a freak of nature that was made far away on a battlestation... made for war, made for destruction.

    Made for Chaos?

    You remembered the swirling pain as you reached for the Matrix, as you reached to sever its connection to the Warworld, to stop Starscream from his madness.

    What was it then that spurred you to do something so... heroic?

    Somehow in all that, you had survived, lived on to see the horror of the Swarm as it swooped down to engulf everything...

 

    The dark cloud blurred through the gulf of space with horrifying speed, clamping down on the floating Warworld.  Still, you only vaguely registered it with static covered optics.  Most of your systems were still damaged badly from your exile.  As you floated gracelessly in the darkness, you had watched the heavy forces of the 2nd Generation forces, Jhiaxus' troops, tear down and attack the Warworld as well as the Earth.  Now, the Swarm was seeing to equalizing that which had been lost from the continued progenation of your species.  It ate at both sides, ripping them apart without care, without worry... Its sharp, stinging particles had floated by you, within touching distance...  yet they had left you alone after only a passing, hate filled breeze.

    Now the Warworld had changed, it was no longer that which created you... that life-force had passed.

    You weren't sure how you knew, but you knew.  The Matrix no longer was there.  Remnants of it's powered still glittered across the surface of the massive battle.  But the true spark had been removed.  It now resided with one being, it now resided like a glowing pinprick of power with one robot. 

    Optimus Prime.

    He had left, and had gone to face Jhiaxus on the Twilight...

    Their fight lit up the surface of the massive, scorpion-like flagship. 

    You could feel the leader's pain... feel it through the Matrix.  He was faltering, failing... he was refusing to fight...

    Then the Swarm arrived.

    The fight was over, and the slaughter was beginning.  The Twilight was being systematically turned into component particles as you watched.  Then, A roar of anger and frustration echoed through your spark. 

    Jhiaxus was dying.

    Next would be Prime...

    But, then a lance of light shot from the Warworld.  A tractor beam digging into the heart of the Twighlight.   With a heavy crunching noise, Optimus Prime was ripped free of the Swarm's clutched, catapulted back through space, back into the womb of the Warworld.

    Moments passed as the Twighlight was devoured.  Then, the massive cloud turned it's ire toward the Warworld.

    A shuttle roared out from the landing bay of the Warworld, but still, you could feel the Matrix... it was still onboard the Warworld.

    The Swarm swept in, devouring the world, destroying your brood brothers, dismantling one of the most destructive battlestations ever created.

   

    You snapped back to reality, to find that megacycles had passed, and before you stretched the massive vista of Cybertropolis!

   

   

 Cybertron: Cybertropolis

 

    Your shielding made it simplistic to get beyond the massive walls and armaments that surrounded the huge city of Cybertropolis.

    Every kilometer there was a weapons bank, set to scan for ground and air movements, and armed with some rather impressive artillery.  You just sailed invisibly by them, your instincts of years of master work of espionage serving you justly in guiding your movements across the deadly airspace.

     Once in the city, you spent several cycles jumping from point to point.  Watching the movements of tank patrols, and where they headed.  However, they seemed to be vary dilinear in their patterns, and never seemed to have a homebase. The massive drones were impressive however.  Huge, hulking beasts that were capable of full transformation.  Their armor was thick, and their weaponry looked devastating. 

    However, their control was a mystery.  You had scanned since you came in, at least scanned as much as possible without drawing attention. 

    "What exactly are you looking for... at any rate?" came a familiar voice from behind you.

    You spin to see the pale ivory exterior of Deathspire standing not twenty meters from you.

    "Deathspire!?"

    "Yes.  I've been following you since you and that crew landed here on this planet.  You don't really plan to be a good little Cybertronian and do their scouting for them?  Do you?"

    You're eye glittered with contempt for the others in the crew, "Of course not.  But why should my business be any concern of yours?"

    "Because I think we are after the same thing.  I think we both want to find out what... or who is controlling these drones."

    "And what makes you think that?"

    "Because... deep down, we're both Decepticons."

    You snort, "So why should we help each other then?"

    "Because, others followed you.  Two of them, the human, and the ex-Destron... Zabgoth?"  They are here in the city, and like me, they have been watching your moves."

    "How HAVE you been watching me?  You see, I pride myself on my skills, and it's not likely that a warrior could simply..."

    "Ease your fears... it was through no fault of your own.  I have had... assistance."

    "Assistance?"

    "Yes, perhaps it would best suffice to say I merely followed my internal instincts for now."

    --Unicron... he must have somehow used Unicron to follow me!!--

    "And what of them?" you indicated the other group.

    "That I do not know.  They are fairly easy to spot, only a short distance frequency and code signal that seems to counteract the control on the drones has kept them hidden until now.  I do not know the extent of the signal, or what the frequency is,  just that they have been using it since they entered the gates."

    You look at him, then look down at another line of drones that passed across a high roadway.

    "So what do you say?" The bone-bot stood fairly near to you now, "Partners?"

   

Cybertron: Cybertropolis

 

    --Partners, eh?  Well, maybe he has finally seen the error of his ways... maybe now he is ready for the chaos of Unicron.  Even if not... this may be my opportunity to make him see the... light.--

    You turn toward the bone colored transformer, extending a hand, "Very well, Deathspire.  Then we shall work together.  After all, what is more important to a Decepticon than power. And those drones... that is where the power now lies."

    Deathspire shakes your hand, "So that's the game is it?  Control the drones and control Cybertron.  My, you truly do have ambition Bladewing."

    "Ambition?  Hah! Power means survival, and I mean to outlive all of these fools."

    You look back down into the streets, another group of drones trundled past in another direction.

    "Their patterns confusing you?" Deathspire looks over your shoulder.

    You turn to look at him, "There is no pattern... No beginning, no end..."

    "Part of that is right.  I've been a general since before your spark was brought online, and I recognize their pattern.  It is complex, and would probably take weeks to decipher fully, but there is a pattern.  But you are right in saying they do not seem to be coming from anywhere or going anywhere...  At least not the ones we've tracked."

    You're optic dimmed thoughtfully, "What about these others.  How are they tracking me? A self diagnostic shows nothing, no bug, no signal..."

    "No, I do not believe they are using any sensible means to follow you, but how is still beyond my kin."

    "Why didn't they pick you up?  Slag!  Why didn't I pick ANY of you up?!"

    "You were occupied.  It would not be hard to make sure you were properly distracted with your mind set on the drones patterns."

    You didn't like that answer, "but my sensors..."

    "Can be fooled.  There are many forces at work here that you do not understand, suffice it to say, I believe that your optics were covered... That you were kept from seeing myself or the others."

    "Then I think we should teach them a lesson."

    "Don't underestimate your foes.  We would beat them, yes, but not without the risk of attracting unwanted attention."

    "Then we're at a dead end?"

    "Perhaps at a stall."

    You think carefully about what you knew.  The drones were running some kind of mega complex pattern across most of Cybertroplolis.  In fact, you thought they stretched into the ruins of Iacon...

    "What about Iacon?!" you blurted.

    "What?"

    "Iacon.  The area is a wasteland after their attack, I saw it from a distance.  Buildings were melted into nothing, streets were file with ruble and slag."

    "So?"

    "So, why patrol a wasteland?"

    Deathspire stood up flexing the long blades of his wings, "Why indeed.  If you are right and they are patrolling it, then it would mean they have something to guard.  Perhaps something that they don't want anyone to see?"

    "The control tower."  you look off toward the horizon, where the dark bulk of Iacon sat like a formless lump of sludge.

    --It would be central to the city... a good place to start at any rate.--

    "Let's go... the ruins there would be a better place to teach them a lesson, if so needed." you jerked a thumb at the tag-a-longs below.

    Deathspire nods and leaps into the air.

Cybertron: Iacon

 

    The dark interior of Cybertropolis lay dead and silent as you and the odd bone armored Deathspire winged your way through the cold skies.

    Iacon was a dormant, smoldering slag pile.   Buildings were torn down, and lay charred and crumbled in the streets.  Roads were collapsed in strips of rubble and melted metals. All of it left you feeling cold, and even a bit lonely as you raced over the surface.

    "I don't see anything here... It doesn't even look like the tank drones are patrolling here!"  You grumbled.

    "Yeah, well they were patrolling heavy enough at the border.  I'm still not sure how you led us past that." Deathspire careened around a building that was little more than a mountain of melted metal and crystal.

    "Skill."  you state simply.

    Moving downward and transforming, you waited as the thin bone-like transformer joined you on the ground.

    "Maybe we should consider setting up a trap for the others?"   Your optic glittered evilly.

    "We could, but for some reason they left our trail some ways back."

    You send out a scan.  They registered extremely distant... and heading the other direction!

    "I don't like it... where would they be heading in this place..." you began

    Then something in the dark city drew your attention.

    A small glittering far down one of the darkened streets.

    --Follow.--

    You transform, whether from instinct or from outside influence, you weren't sure.  Your engines flare as you speed over the slag filled streets of Iacon.

    Deathspire was hot on your tail.  He didn't say a word, just followed.  You wondered if Unicron was sending him the same message.

    Ahead, you made out the shimmering orange glitter.  It flitted and shot downward, into a broken basement of some building.

    You careened and shot downward, dodging the struts and wires that quickly closed in with speed and agility.

    Deathspire was a bit slower, his wingspan being larger, but still he kept within shouting distance.

    Down the two of you went, following the brief glimpses of the shimmering light into unknown depths below the streets.

    Through the under-labyrinth of Iacon you went, heading out and away into the unknown. 

    Spinning past wires and pipes in the dark interior of inner-Cybertron, the landscape seemed to blur into a meaningless haze of shifting gray.

    Then the light disappeared. 

    You stopped, and transformed, joined momentarily by Deathspire.

    "Where are we?" you gasped in the darkness.

    "Sector Kappa, I think."  Deathspire muttered, "Why did you follow it?"

    You turned, your optic lighting you both in a deadly red halo.

    "Why?"

    "I heard Unicron's voice and was forced. Why would you do the same."

    "I..."

    But your reply was cut short as your warning sensors began to flare up.  Spinning, you saw lights down the tunnel, heading toward you at an alarming rate.  The signatures of a large platoon of tank drones registered.

    "Company." you whisper.

    "There's too many... we can't hope to fight them." 

    The lights swayed up and down, back and forth, randomly lighting the tunnel around them.  You look up, "There's the way we..."  but the tunnel that had to have lead you here was gone.  There was only a thick nesting of wires and metal sheeting above you.

    "Great... there's only one way." grunted Deathspire, shoving you hard down the tunnel in the opposite of the tank drones.

    Shocked into action, you began to run.  Wires inhibited you from transforming.  You didn't doubt that you could cut through them... and the thought occurred to you to wonder how the tank drones were fitting through such tight quarters... but the dark mass inhibited you from knowing what other obstacles may arise at any second.

    Soon, your swords were in hand, as was Deathspire scythe.  Rapidly the two of you sliced through the darkness, the tank drones ever growing closer.  Already you could hear the heavy treads behind you, and you swore that their lights would be able to pick you up at any second.

    Then, up ahead, you could make a out a bluish light, filling the darkness... everything became even more blurred than before, until, suddenly, you found yourself three meters behind a large... ticked off Decepticon. 

    The Decepticon had armoring that matched the drones in make, if not style.  He stood on two real legs, and had oversized, almost goalie like arms.  A gattling cannon sat on his shoulder. 

    He had just torn down a doorway that lead into the room beyond... where the bluish glow was emanating from.  And you could tell from his inhuman roar that he was none too happy with whatever lie beyond...

 

Cybertron: the Vat

 

    --Slag this!!--

    You coat your skin and jump up into the wires above you. 

    Looking down, you see that the massive tank-bot had spun, and had grabbed Deathspire.

    --Sorry man!  I hope he doesn't slag you!!--

    Turning you scrabble up into the darkness above.

    Quickly, you scan the room beyond the tank Decepticon.

    There were two Decepticon signatures, as well as a massive energy reading!

    --Go there!  It will lead you to your next step of destiny!--

    Unicron's voice rang with promises of power that you hungrily lapped at.

    Looking at the wall beside you, it occurs to you that there must be an maintenance hatch somewhere that you lead you into the tall room.  You begin to climb upward, searching for just such an entrance.

   

 

    Elsewhere, a white and silver Earth Defense Forces tank mech sat entrapped in a horrible tangle of rubble and thick wiring.

    "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!" a hatch opened, and out climbed a human wearing an advanced suit of armor, "This is what I get for following that Zabgoth instead of coming here to do what I came to do!"  He began to carefully climb down the mass of wires, heading for the mech's suspended leg.

    "I knew those blasted tank drones were trouble."  he slammed his fist into a panel on the mech's leg.  It slid aside, revealing a conglomeration that resembled a vehicle that had been put into a trash compactor.  He tugged it out, and let it fall, sliding down to the ground with a thud.

    There he began to work on it, quickly pulling it apart, and attaching pieces to his armor.  Jump jets, a repulsor engine, heavier armaments...

    "Well, looks like I'll have to go it on foot."  he looked up at the massive mech, "Sorry boy, but if I find what I'm here for, I'll come back for you."

    He turned and hit the jump jet's spinning down the darkened underwarrens of Iacon.

 

    After a short search, you find a hatch near the top of the apparently dome-like building.

    Pulling your sword, you carefully begin to open it.

    Down below was a pit of swirling energy that was opened on the floor of the room.  Around it lay the two Decepticons, the tank-con, and Deathspire.  They were all unconscious or knocked prone.  It was only temporary, and you could already see them beginning to stir and stand.

    The two other Con's were unfamiliar.  One was a gray-green color, with huge bat-like fleshy wings.  His design was unique, but somehow reminded you of Deathspire's.  He had tentacles at his waste and on his face... and seemed to have a large gash on his shoulder.  You would guess it was from Deathspire's scythe.

    The other one was an insectoid of some kind.  Red and purple, with green wings.  He was a Transmetal II as well, like those Maximals, Battlestripe and Lightslayer!

    But over all, it was the pit that drew your attention.

    From it, voices seemed to call to you.  Staring into it, you saw swirling blue energy... the vortex was filled with bubbles of light.

    Something in you churned at it's sight.

    --There, there you will find your future.--

Cybertron: The Vat

 

    --Power!--

    You look hungrily down at the blur of energy.

    The voices seemed to call out promises to your very being.

    --Unicron has promised it, so it must be!  POWER!!!--

    At last you can rise above the rest and become the champion that you are destined to be. 

    --The others will fall before me as I lead the storm of Chaos to celebrate the return of the Chaos Bringer!--

    Suddenly, a pain shot through your chest as a bolt of power ripped through your crystalline cockpit, knocking you back from the entry.

    "That's not for you!" the Lieutenant's voice echoes around the confines of the dark, wire filled crawlspace.  A red light appears from the darkness, zeroing in on you.

    You lurch sideways as another blasts slams into the wires behind you, "And what know you human!" your firearm was in your hands and three sizzling red blasts pierced into the darkness, sending sparks and smoke billowing out.

    The Lieutenant had already moved, however, and an answering volley flew out of the darkness.You screeched as one of the silver tips of your wings was hit... and shattered.

    A rage filled you and your gun was replaced by glittering red blades, "Time to die!"  You lunged forward in a flurry of red-hot energy.  Your blades slice through the tangled web  as if through air.  There's a grunt and a twitching arm fell to the floor.

    The sickly dark liquid that came from the dismembered arm seemed to steam as it rolled across the floor.

    Another blast came resolutely from the darkness, this time, the armored humanoid was etched in an angry corona of energy from the small rockets flares. You ducked, but the blast was enough to toss you forward, hard.   The crystal of your chest shattered as you hit the floor, and you could tell that another wing had been scorched badly from the blast.

    There was a sickening tilt as the world seemed to turn on it's heel. You pushed yourself up,  but the feeling of vertigo persisted.

    The crashing sound segments later foretold the truth.  The ceiling was caving in. 

    You were falling.

    You see the human leap and grapple on to you, a humming knife slashing into your shattered chest panel.

    You roar in pain, but manage to reach around with your arm, grabbing the suit and twisting it with a final, crunching noise.

    Then your world was covered in a brilliant white hot light...

 

    A stream of consciousness cried out around you.  Bit by bit, atom by atom, you felt yourself slipping, becoming par t of the stream, and as part, you felt the spirit jarring pain that ricocheted through the riotous flow of energy.

    Your voice joined the screaming horde.

   

    Your optic flares to life, shining an incongruous red light upward against the heavy wreckage above you. 

    --Get up...--

    --Who am I...--

    --Who are we...--

    A clawed horror of an arm reaches up, it's yellowed bones crunching as they grinded together... blue and red wires pumping with liquids, glittering with micro circuitry patches.

    You realize the horror is you.

    The screams of thousands echoed through your audio circuitry.

    --Make them stop.--

    --Listen to their music.--

    The bone hand stretches with a crack, steel claws appearing at the bony fingertips.  You bring it down on the lip of the pit of energy in which you floated. Energy that cascaded in a painful dance across your wings as they extended themselves behind you.

    Long, bonelike wings.

    You heft yourself up, black and red armor clanking about you as you awkwardly felt the boundaries of this new body.

    --We are a god.--

    You stood with a roar that seemed to echo of the robot once called Bladewing, and of the human that had been a Lieutenant in Earths forces... Haywood.

    Flashing klaxons shadowed the room in a spastic red.   There were others gathered here... other's whose faces became outlined as the red lights shined over them for  brief segments.

    Frozen in time, the looks of horror that flashed over each became etched on your optic.

    One of their names briefly registered, Deathspire. 

    --Herald.--

    --Fool.--

    The others were unknown to you.

    The ivory robot, Deathspire, took an unsure step toward you, "Bladewing..."

    A skeletal leer covers your face as you feel your vocal circuits form a grating reply, "Bladewing has gone to hell. We remain."

Cybertron: The Vat

 

    --We are outnumbered, we should escape.--

    --Look at them... they are... afraid!--

    --They are beneath us.  Ignorant of the storm that is bearing to rain.--

    --Deathpsire can help...--

    --He is Unicron's herald.  He merely announced your arrival. Now, he is useless, and shall pay for his refusal to yield to destiny.--

    --So we stand alone?--

    --He is still the herald.--

    --And so shall he serve his purpose.  His use is not yet complete.--

    --Why not destroy him for his insolence?--

    --It does not matter.  know that we are now the chosen.--

    --The champion to lead Unicron's forces into battle.--

    --The voice of... Unicron?--

    Laughter.

    --The destroyer of Cybertron.--

 

    "You! Decepticon!"  a silver and blue Autobot yelled to Deathspire, "You know this.... thing!?"

    Deathspire's head jerked back to look at the you, "What has become of you?"he asks you, his vocal circuits still a bit shaky. "What are you now?!?"

    "I am as I always was. Not as the pathetic coward you once knew, but as the champion I was always destined to be."  your echoing voice stayed cold and contemptuous.
    "Champion? Champion of what?"  Deathspire's fist begin to ball up.
    You give a low chuckle... amusement at the defiance of the robot, "The champion of Death. I am what you fear, what all Cybertronians fear. I am the Reaper of sparks. Stay clear of me herald. Your time will come soon enough."

    The silver and blue Autobot moved toward the Vat's controls, "I require use of that machine.  You had best find a way to control your 'friend.' " he gave an angry gesture indicating you.

    There is a crackling noise of bones you turned to look at him, your jawbone stretching even further up in it's horrible grin.  From him, you saw odd tendrils of energy, shimmeringly white and tinged with red.  You understood immediately that you were seeing the emanations from his spark.  Hunger swelled within you,  "Foolish Autobot.  Your spark shines with a brilliant light that will be joyful to extinguish."

    With that, you reach back and with a noise, like bone snapping in half,  pull forth a thick, short bone.  You lunge at him, a blade stretching up from the bone 'handle'  A glittering green arc slashes down at him in the blink of an eye.

    But there was a yellow and orange blur of movement as the other Autobot came to his aide, pushing the silver and blue one clear, but taking the full brunt of your savage slice.  His body falls in half with an explosion of hot mech fluid.

    The silver and blue robot and the upper half of the yellow and orange one land in a pile.  You reach over to the other half, and see what you were looking for though.  His spark was nicely exposed, and with a simple touch it seemed to pop like a bubble.  You feel a warm infusion of heat and life over your cold bones.

    The other Autobot stood, dropping the body to the floor with a dull thud.

    Suddenly there was a shuddering thud... and explosion from the Vat.  A green and gray fleshy robot yelled, "It's going to go critical in a matter of cycles!"  And dove for the massive swirling blue pit of energy, as if to carry out the sparks held within by hand!

    The silver and blue raised your head... Altima Stratus was his name.   Streetfire was the one you had just... ingested.  You feel joy in the knowledge that they were practically 'brothers.' 

     The flashing red lights shimmering around you as you glare at Altima Stratus,  "He is mine now, Autobot.  Soon, you shall all join him."

    He leaped at you, but you easily twisted and threw him to the side.  He twisted as well, and managed to block your wrist, keeping your sword from claiming a new victim.

    You yanked the larger robot around, pulling him nearly off his feet and throwing him past you.  Then you readied yourself for another strike.

    He narrowly jumps aside as the strike slices into his arm, nearly severing it!

    "AUTOBOT!" you hear a yell... You quickly identify the source as the gray-green batwinged robot.  You glance to see him over the body of a smallish robot.  It's chest was open, and the robot was doing something to it.

    You sweep down while the Autobot was distracted, and he nearly dodged another blow, but ended up loosing the rest of his arm instead.

    Bravely, the Autobot reached out with the other arm and cried "Shatterblast!  TRANSFORM!"

    There was a screech as a red and gold raven swooped down in your face from nowhere! It sent you back in temporary defense.

    Then,  a heavy blast struck you from behind.  You stagger forward, spinning to keep Altima in your optic range, as well as taking in your new adversaries.

    At the doorway, where the massive tank bot had been... and was no longer... stood two MORE newcomers.  This time an extremely slagged out Autobot in black and gold stood... or more accurately leaned... next to a tall and commanding beast-bot of orangish reddish hue.  That one's face was black, faceplated, with a red optic visor, he bore a claw-tail for one arm, and a dino-head as the other!

    "ME think that enough, bonehead."  roared this new robot as he lowered his head-hand-weapon that was still smoking from the blast that had erupted from it's jaws.

    The odds were drastically against you, and you see the bat-squid bot had already chosen to make his exit.  You transformed into a beast mode... a batlike form with bone wings and a solitary red optic.  Without a noise you tore off, up through the gaping hole in the ceiling.

    As you roared into the tunnels again, you transform again, into a new version of your old 'Bladewing' ship.  It's wings were just as sharp, but now were made of bone.  You roared past the battle below, where the tank drones were being eliminated by yet more Autobots.

    --Where now?--

   

Cybertron: Iacon

 

    You burst out into the chill night air, your engines whining with speed as you breached the outer airspace.  Instantly a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds coalesced on you as the velvety sky cried with an infinity of strange energies from each star that sparkled within it's dark black curtains.

    Again, the transformation occurred, from sleek airship to the one eyes bat-creature.  You winged up, exulting in the new found life that pulsed through the strange new body.

    Then, a new noise intruded on the cacophony, another set of engines.  They were hot on your trail. 

    You turned your pulsing red optic downward to your exit point from the underwarrens of Cybertron, and there, a larger, bone colored ship shattered into the night air above Iacon.

    It was Deathspire.

    You transformed, hovering and awaiting his approach.

    He charged at you, transforming as well, and stopping no more than ten meters in front of you.

    His sharp bone wings heaved as he floated, glittering blue scythe in hand.

    "Bladewing!  What have you done?!"

    You chuckled, and eerie sound that hummed through the silent skies, "Fool.  I have done what you refused to do, and so I have been reborn!"

    "Reborn?!  You really think that what you were given was a gift?!"

    "I am a god!!  The harbinger of the chaos that will sweep down upon this planet to scourge it clean of the foolish pawns of Primus!"

    "Pawns of Primus?!  Do you truly think yourself any less of a pawn!!!???  Unicron will use you, and discard you when he is through..."

    "You were tossed aside because you failed to accomplish anything of worth!  You rebelled and are therefore useless to me... stand aside.  You stand no hope of dissuading me from the genocide that will consume their race!"

    "I wasn't coming after you to dissuade you... I was only trying to understand.  You've made your choice, as I have mine.  What I came to do was to end your blighted existence."

    With that the scythe hummed hungrily as it jolted up it's power levels, blue energon steam curled up from it's blade.

    "So be it.  Then you shall perish here, without hope of resurrection.  You are the one that has brought this upon yourself, Deathspire."

    You pulled your weapon, it's curved green blade shimmering in the dark sky...

Cybertron: Iacon   

 

    The two of you floated in the air, circling menacingly, your weapons glowing in the clear Cybertronian night.

    --Kill him...--

    --Leave him...--

    --He is necessary...--

    --He is nothing...--

    --He was friend...--

    --You have no friends...--

    --He will kill you...--

    With a roar you lash out, savage fury striking down in a glittering green sweep.  Deathspire parried down and away with his scythe, pushing up and back, away from where you could easily hit him.  Then, swooping around you he fired a jolt of energy at you.  It crackled along the haft of his scythe, to leap out as if it were a snake snapping to bite it's victim.

    You screech in pain, but shake it off.  Spinning, you charge again, slashing upward in a blow that knocked him sideways as he came to parry again.

    You ducked the oncoming sweep this time, bringing your blade near him in a deadly slash.  His wings swept around, their razor like edges pricking you as they slashed around you.

    You pushed up and away, but not in time to dodge another blast of the energy.

    You turned, reaching back instinctively with your hand.  The bone claw seemed to amass a dark, writhing mass of shadows that you clenched on to and tossed at your opponent.  He moves, but not before the mass splatters across one shin.  You see him wince in pain as his leg armor seems to phase in and out.  Ice crystals form on the edges of the black blur, and make a screeching noise on Deathspire's leg.

    He allows himself to tumble forward... You see an opening and lunge for it, diving down at him, but he was planning for it, and suddenly he arced up, shooting past you with a deadly slash of his scythe.  You feel the cascading energy as it slices up your torso, sending sparks flying. 

    You reach out and grab his foot as he passes, feeling a fiery heat build within you.

    Suddenly, there is a massive explosion of heat and light.

    You were unaffected, but Deathspire was thrown up and out, charred as flames danced along his armor.

    You felt something fade within you... the spark... Streetfire... somehow you had used his energy, used his power?

    As you sat and pondered, Deathspire reacted, firing a Curtain of electricity at you with a sweep of his weapon.  The air around you sizzles, energy rips through your body..

    You transform to bat mode, insulating yourself to some degree and darting out of the electric shower. 

    He ducks down past you, his wings sweeping by in a dangerous flutter.  Their sharp edges ripping at your fleshy body even as you whip out your tail to strike.  Green energy sizzles through Deathspire as your poisons breach him. 

    You see his left wing go dead, sending him into a spiraling plummet.

    You change again, this time to your blade ship mode, darting down at him, ready to cut him in half with the edges.

    But he transforms as well, controlling his fall and turning it into a dive.  Pulling up he dodges around several ruined buildings as you followed.

    The venom faded and he transformed, spinning around to face you.

    You spin... a deadly twirl of sharpened edges.

    Deathspire saw it, and expected it.  He cut all hoverjets and dropped straight down, at the same moment firing up with his weapon.  The energy knocked you harmlessly away from him as he kicked in his jumpjets again and swept in, jabbing the long scythe directly through your torso.

    Pain roared through you, making you transform.  Your sword was sweeping back, slashing at the pole. 

    The scythe snapped.

    You lurched away, the bladed end still protruding through your lower midsection, your sword glittering, deadly in the air.

    You lurched foreword, sweeping down with the sword in a slash that shattered the air as it flew.  He dodge, partially, but some of his torso armor slid off, revealing circuitry beneath.  Also, several of the winged 'prongs' on his back slithered off, falling to the streets below.

    His arm reached out to snatch the haft that stuck out from your midsection and wrench it free.

    Circuits and wires fell out as he pulled, kicking you back, away from him.

    Static now covered a great deal of your optics.  He had hurt you, had hurt you badly.  Already, you could feel the circuitry rebuilding though.  A few megacycles and you would be fine.  But not if he eliminated you now... 

    

Cybertron: Iacon

 

    You knew there was no point in staying in this fight.

    --He serves no purpose in either life or death... I have forces to raise, so I mustn't stay and chance being defeated.--

    You transform, "I guess this means we aren't friends anymore..."  you laugh as your engines kick in with a whine, and you blast off into the Cybertronian sky.

    As you gain altitude, the command goes through your systems to activate the polymer coating to conceal your exit completely.

    --Systems error.--

    "What?  Computer, explain."

    --Polymer synthesis unit no longer available.--

    --Blast!  It was my favorite line of defense!--

    --But not your only, we shall make due.--

    --All will die, leaving no witnesses to hide from...--

    From the looks of it, Deathspire had had enough for the moment.  You no longer saw him, or felt his presence... That left you free to consider your next move.

    Unicron's forces... the tank drones?  Your optics scanned skyward, at the floating malevolence that was the Warworld...  Something odd about it...

    You felt both a loathing and an odd strain of pride as you gazed upward at the dark moon.

    From it, you felt dimly aware of strange threads that stretched down and away from it, toward the surface of Cybertron.

    The threads were faint, but there were thousands of them, each pulsing with an odd power... glittering orangely in the cool night sky.

    --The lines that control the drones...--

    You decide, but something about that didn't feel right...

    From each strand shimmered a... music?  the music of pain, of hatred... 

    You could feel the internal systems already making remarkable progress on the critical wounds that had been caused you.

    You transform, landing on a building on the outskirts of Iacon, where the life had returned, where the Cybertronians ran and worked.  You looked out on the alien lights, the movement and the life.

    They went about their lives, unaware that the ultimate of darkness's was coming to sweep down on them.

    A warm breeze blew across your frame, across the bone and wires that now comprised your new body.  You considered these Cybertronians... you remember...

    And something inside you feels sorrow...

Cybertron: Cybertropolis

 

    Sorrow... The feeling was very dull and faint, but it was there none the less.

    --Why do we have these feelings,  these feelings of remorse.--

    --'We' don't, 'you' do...--

    --They are unaware, they don't stand a fighting chance...--

    --They would destroy you now... even as we speak they destroy what has been purified.--

    --But they are my brethren...--

    --Enough.  They will die.  That is the way.  That is the justice.  That is the end to the wars and the pain.--

    --But I was one of them...--

    --That is unimportant, as are they.  They will all find out what it is to be purified.  These feeling matter not.  Ignore them, they will go away.--

    --...--

   The lines, the music, the pain, hatred....  You must find the source of those ephemeral shackles.

    You look up into the dark skies above, at the sparkling orange light far off in space... in orbit...

    "I'm going... home."

 

    You floated, injured and torn, until a beam surrounded you, pulling you into the bay of the ship.

    How long had you floated?  How long had you been deactivated?

    You weren't sure.  All you remembered was the pain, and the Swarm, and Starscream...

    "Well, well, well...  what do we have here?"  the high voice spoke.  The same annoying tick that tried to stop me?"

    Your optics blinked, a broken lens smearing the vision, but not enough to keep you from recognizing your 'rescuer'.

    Starscream stood, with a sneer, looking down at your shattered body.

    "Hrmm... " the tall white and red robot pondered, "Never the less.  You may have been right to do what you did.  Let's see what I can do to return the favor..."

 

    You entered the Warworld, unopposed.  Landing in a bay that sat open for boarding.

    Across the bay, bits and pieces were struin... a battle had taken place here.  A large Destron warship sat in the center, many of the bodies seemed to be ringed around it.  All were drones of one form or another.

    There was also several other cargo ships, and one largish shuttle.  It was one of the few things that bore no carbon scoring on it's hull.

    "Interesting."

    --The reins of power are being passed here.  Soon my child's gestation will be complete.--

    You look around... around at the ship itself... and suddenly became aware of the very essence that imbued every inch of it.  It was kin.... you weren't sure how, but it was alive...

    You made your way to the doors leading into the ship.  Opening them with a silent swish, you looked at the hallway beyond.  A breathing force seemed to surround  you there.  An intelligence seemed to watch you.

    As you began to step beyond, something within you snapped... a flame in your spark that seemed to be extinguished.

    --He is dead.--

    "What?  Who?"

    But you already knew.  Deathspire lived no longer.

    You felt the air around you shimmer with amusement.

The Warworld

 

    --Deathspire's dead... oh well.  He probably went into battle after our confrontation.  He must have been in worse condition that I thought...--

    You look around at the walls... they were steel, but still, you felt the life within them.

    --This ship.... it's alive...  Another spark of Chaos maybe?--

    Somehow it felt like more.

    --I am here to gather Unicron's forces... is this one of my minions!--

    You move silently along the walls, seeking answers to your questinos.  Perhaps there was a spark chamber here.

    Feeling for the lines of power, you follow them, hoping that they would lead to some device or computer that controlled the Decepticon's drones. 

    --There has to be some computer, program, or device that controls them.. I must find that eventually,  maybe I'll find what I need at the end of these lines...--

 

    You quickly find yourself at a doorway.  It was large, and a Decepticon sigil was emblazoned in shining silver on it.  You reached up, activating the sensors.

    It slid silently apart.

    There, in the center of the floor was held a large black robot, battered and enroped by thick tentacle like wires.  To his side lay the body of a Destron... part of you recalled him vaguely from a previous life...

    On the throne behind him... a throne that sat in front of a massive column of writhing cords, and wires...  sat a huge silver Destron.  His eyes glittered brightly... a dangerous purple that chilled your spark.  He had a huge Dragon head for one arm, and the other hand sat gripping the arm of the throne.  A large mantle sat upon his shoulders, into which ran thousands of wires that pumped incesently with the action of data transfer. 

    "Greetings."  his voice boomed, "My name is Gigano, Destron General, and new Lord of the Warworld."

The Warworld: Gigano's throneroom

 

    You look at the silver armored Destron.  You... nor anyone else for that matter... had ever seen any of the Destron Generals.  They were extremely secretive, and reputed to be extremely dangerous. It was they who had hired you to go to Earth, to follow the Tripredicus council and to ruin their plans.

    "Gigano.  I know of your kind.  You may not recognize me, but I was once known as Bladewing."

    "Hrm... the Bladewing sent three solar months ago to follow the Tripredicus Council?"

    "The same.  I have since... evolved.  I am now known... as Deathwing."

    "Interesting.  And why are you here now... Deathwing?"

    "I have come to find answers to what has come about here."   you motion to the column behind him, "Perhaps you can give some enlightenment?"

    The silver robot's purple eyes narrow, "And to what ends would this information lead us?"

    "I might be able to help you... in your new position..."  

    "Perhaps.  Know this.  Clench no longer rules here.  I now control Cybertron and with it the Drone army... This Warworld will become my base of operat..."

    A muted explosion shook the room.  Immediately a viewscreen hovered out in front of Gigano.

    --The harness.  That must control the drones!--

    --But he is strong, he will kill us!--

    --His spark.. You can feel it's power, you must feed upon it.--

    --We should wait, get answers, attack when his guard is down.--

    --You are scared!  I am amazed you have lived as long as you have!--

    --I have not survived as long as I have by rushing into battle!  There are other ways to win a fight!--

    --Perhaps...--

    --Your time for battle will come.--

    --We will get that harness...--

    --but for now, we will wait.--

    "It seems we may have underestimated Zabgoth.  He has gained himself some new allies."

    "Then it would seem that you need me.

    "Then let this be your test.  Go with Firecat and see to this dispatch of these intruders.  If they can not be safely destroyed, then..." Gigano stops and frowns as a red and gold cat steps from the shadows behind you.

    "What is it?" the other Destron... Firecat you assumed... asks.

    "A transmission from within the Warworld.  It is a Decepticon transmission.  A distress call.   Firecat, find the source of this transmission and terminate it.  Deathwing, you see to Zabgoth and his party.  Get them off this ship!  I will begin raising the internal defenses, and will power up full external defenses.  Prepare for battle."

The Warworld

 

    --Zabgoth... this name sounds familiar.  He was on the ship with us from Earth.--

    You flapped through the darkly lit hallways.  The Assassin was no where to be seen, which was probably lucky for him.  If he attempted to spy on your side of the mission... he may fall prey to an untimely accident.

    --Zabgoth was a fool.  I led him to believe that he and the others were my friends.  He didn't see my true motives were simply that of power.--

    --He will fall.  All will fall.--

    --You're friend?  Perhaps we could use that to our advantage?--

    --Play on his sympathies.  Always use a fools trust to advance your own position.  Perhaps there is some spark of hunger within that twisted spark of yours.--

    For now, you would do what Gigano asks. 

    --Gigano will soon cease his functions.--

    You stop, transforming, "What?!"

    The voices within your CPU abruptly ceased.  Hesitantly you transform again and continue to speed toward the Destron and his 'friends.'

 

    From the shadows, you drop down with a silent grace, "Zabgoth!"

    The car transforms to robot mode, skidding to a halt in front of you.

    The others consisted of a thick, bison who planted his feet and lowered his head, and of another bot in some kind of exo-frame.  The robot inside looked torn to shreds, but the armoring and weapons on the suit were made of the heavily armored tank drones.  He was also carrying a large Decepticon that you didn't recognize.  There were massive holes and dents in the Decepticons armor.  An armor that was as thick as the tank drones themselves!

    "What the...."

    "Zabgoth, "  you repeat, trying to control the strange echo in your voice, "It's me, Bladewing!"

    The exoframed Maximal stepped forward, "Bladewing?"  The voice you recognized as another Maximal from that ship.  His name was Lightslayer.

    You notice that Zabgoth had his heavy hammer weapon in hand already, his eyes narrowed, "What are you doing here!?"

    "I've been trying to find you!  Some Destron's in control up here now... his name is... Gigororna or something."

    "Gigano!"  Zabgoth sneers.

    "Yes.  He has already done our job of displacing the Decepticon leader, but has assumed control with the intent no better than Clench's had been."

    Lightslayer dropped the body of the Decepticon to the ground, "Our job?!  If your still with us, what happened to the Lieutenant?  We sent him after you... as the rest of us came looking as well!"

    "I... I am the lieutenant as well... I'm not sure I can explain.. we've been... reformatted into one being."

    "Then you never really left the team?"  Zabgoth asks confused.

    "Left?  What the pit are you talking about?!  We're here to destroy this ship... right?!"

    Lightslayer smiles, "Then welcome back... both of you?  We're heading back to the Warworld with this pile of scrap to throw him in stasis and then we're going to do our best to make sure this pit is destroyed."

    --He has seen.  He has seen the offspring.  He must die!!--

    --In time!  In time!--

    "Then let's go... this place is none to safe, even with the lack of Decepticons around!"

 

    Soon, you are back in the hangar bay.  Drones lay about, slagged and melted, Most likely from these Destron's assault before you landed.  You, Lightslayer, Zabgoth, and Bonecrusher carefully stepped out, making your way quickly across the bay to where the Medusae sat.

    Then, the spotlight hit you.

    "Please hold position for identification."  a computer generated voice asked pleasantly.

    Of course, the pleasantness was lost a bit with the sound of the Medusae's guns swiveling around to lock on you all as targets.

The Warworld: The hangar bay

 

    You squint into the bright lights coming from the Medusae.  You hear Lightslayer power up his weapons and whisper, "I'll distract them by launching a few rounds... you guys take out the launchers..."

    Holding up a forestalling hand Zabgoth quickly mutters, "Wait... let's not do anything rash.  After all, that's the ship I was planning on using to get us out of here!"

    Lightslayer looks over at him, "Good choice, I don't suppose we could just steal a shuttle?"

    Shaking his head violently he address'  the ship, "If you're inclined to help me kill some Destrons, then I'm not the kind of guy you want to slag."

    There is a pause, then a new voice address your party, a female one, "Zabgoth, eh?  I think we do hold a common enemy.  Board quickly and I will meet you in the hold."

    The lights shut off and the missile launchers power down.  Turning Zabgoth shrugs, "See?  Violence doesn't solve every problem."

    Bonecrusher snorts and trundles past you, "That's rich comin' from the Mad Bastard..."

 

    Inside the hold, you find a Decepticon waiting for your entrance.  She was thin and smoothly built, all in black with an obviously jet-build transformation.  Her gun was held loosley in her hand as she watched you dispassionately from a featurless face, save for two jet black optics.

    "Greetings," she starts in a cool voice, "My name is Spectre."

    Zabgoth seems to have heard of her as he adds, "You were the captain of this ship!"

    "Indeed.  The Destrons took it from me and left me stranded on Earth.  I came here through a spacebridge on a mission to eliminate a robot that followed your group on your covert mission."

    "What?" Zabgoth gapes, "Followed?!  We weren't followed by anyone."

    You chuckle with mirth as you remember Deathspire's unknown presence on Cybertron, "No, she's right.  We were followed, and by Deathspire.  Why exactly were you sent to kill him though?"

    "Because he was Unicron Spawn."  she states matter of factly, "His position was unknown and therefor he could not be allowed to continue exsiting."

    --She knows of him... what if she knows of me!?--

    --Quiet fool, listen to what they have to say!--

    "You talk in past tense."  Zab interjects.

    "My mission has been completed.  At least in part."

    --So, the herald has fallen.--

    --Who cares.  He deserved to die.--

    --He has earned his 'freedom.'--

    "Part?" Zabgoth continues.

    "The next part was to eliminate the horn that is on the Warworld.  It is a blemish that can not be allowed to exist." Spectre folds her arms.

    Lightslayer nods, "Then I'm all for it.  She's right Zabgoth, "  he turn towards him, "This 'Warworld' must be stopped.  There's something.... unnatural about it.  Something that's feeding on the anger generated by others."

    "That's what he said."  Spectre indicates the deactivated body of Vulcan, "He had found something... and found some way to scan for it.  He referred to it as a virus."

    Bonecrusher snorted, "Then maybe we'd better bring him back online and see what he kno..."

    The ship shuddered.

    "What the pit was..." Lightslayer starts.

    "Spectre, Zabgoth."  It was someone else's voice on the loudspeakers, "You guys better get up here."

 

    As you followed, you became aware of an almost palpable feeling of something waiting in anticipation... waiting greedily.  As if something major was about to change.  You see Bonecrusher drop the Decepticon in a CR on the way up.  Silently you reached over and deactivated the 'stasis' lock that Bonecrusher had set for the chamber. Smiling to yourself, you continued to the bridge.

 

    The Decepticon battleships were lining up outside of the Warworld.  Still confused as to what was going on, they merely wandered in a defensive formation.

    "What are they doing?"  Zabgoth looks at the monitors, confused.

    Spectre's eyes narrow, "They aren't sure.  They were called here because of Vulcan's communication.  They think the Warworld's under attack, but they were expecting the Cybertronian Armada to be doing the attacking."

    Another Destron who was already on the bridge adds, "They tried to hail the Warworld, and when that wasn't successful they fired a warning shot."

    "Why hasn't Gigano attacked them?"  Lightslayer wondered.

    "There's too many of them."  Zabgoth points out, but he shakes his head in the negative, "Those ships are running on skeleton crews at the best.  The Warworld could easily wipe them out.  Even with only one person at it's helm!"

    You became even more aware of the feeling of 'anticipation.'  Something told you it wasn't in Gigano's hands anymore.  Something told you that the floodgates of Chaos were about to burst.

    Spectre leaned over,  you note that her metallic armor wasn't pure black, but rather held a fine tracing of white 'veins' on it's surface, "There must be some reason...  Deadcircuit, scan on all frequencies.  What are we missing."

    The Destron moved to reply, and in seconds an overlay of an energy-prismatic effect was displayed over the surrounding space.

    "What the pit..."  Bonecrusher started.

    "It is the early warning signs of several Warp signatures."  Deadcircuit answered.

    "The Cybertronian Fleet!"  Lightslayer breathes.

    Space began to warp into a prismatic vortex as ships begin to appear all around.  Maximal Explorers, Destron Destroyers, Cybertronian Crusaders... at the center of the formation appeared a massive complex of a creation, as if two citie-sized vehicles were attached to either side of a ship.  You recognize them as Trypticon and Metroplex, both attached in the middle through Admiral Backdraft's ship, the Soulfire.

    You felt waves of hate cascade from the ships in an instant shower of destruction as they pop out into real space.

    Hungrily something fed on that hate... fed and laughed.

    Time had run out.

End of NWNG: General Statement