Equestria Girls: Transformation

Chapters

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4: Welcome to the Jungle
Part 5: Choices
Part 6: The Infodump Chapter
Part 7: Ancient History
Part 8: Howlback
Part 9: Speed Metal
Part 10: Moments of Reflection
Part 11: Moth to Flame
Part 12: Burnin' For You
Part 13: Kindred
Part 15: A Matter of Trust
Part 16: Discovery
Part 17: A Bigger Boat You Say?
Part 18: Into the Den of Serpents
Part 19: Nature of the Beast
Part 20: Rage Against the Machine
Part 21: The Fortunate Ones
Part 22: Old Friends
Part 23: The Devils in the Darkness
Part 24: The Van De Graaff
Part 25: The Human Factor
Part 26: Let's Bungle in the Jungle
Part 27: Eyes Wide Open
Part 28: Hunted Part 1
Part 29: Hunted Part 2
Part 30: The Raid
Part 31: Beginnings and Endings
Part 14: Sympathy for the Devil (Common Ground)

Part 1

Canterlot:

It was a quiet night in the city of Canterlot. Cold as well, with so few people out and about willing to brave Maine’s harsh winters. A light wind blew through the trees, making them whistle in the wind, as gentle flurries of snow fell down on the ground.

For the most part, all was quiet. Very few cars were on the street that lonesome night, except for the occasional driver going home for the night in his or her sedan or pickup. Nothing really noteworthy, for the most part.

For the most part.

“Little bitty pretty one
Come on and talk to me
Lovey dovey, lovely one
Come sit down on my knee

“I'll tell you a story
Happened long time ago
Little bitty pretty one
I've been watchin' you grow…”
A car’s radio sang softly in the night. A soft revving of an engine was heard as an almost pure white form turned the corner of a street. Almost pure white, with crimson red detailing on the hood, and small dark purple highlights on the doors and bumper. Silver rims accompanied that, as if to top things all off.

The engine revved a few times more, as if the driver was just showing off his car’s power. Which, given the make and model of the car -A 2001 Lamborghini Diablo to be exact- was probably entirely expected. After all, you had a high powered Supercar, you didn’t just have it sit in the garage all day now did you? No, you took it out for a drive and showed it and your money off.

Course, this did come with it’s cons, as anything did in life. It also gained you derision as a huge show-off and possibly a playboy with money to burn and not much sense.

As was the thoughts running through the head of one Indigo Zap as she walked down a silent street past a shop. A dark blue haired girl, with arctic blue streaks running through her hair and goggles hanging around her neck, she was dressed in a maroon bomber jacket to protect her from the cold.

She rolled her eyes at the sight of the car, and shook her head.

“Honestly,” she thought to herself. “Could you get any more ostentatious than that in a car? ...Well, suppose if you were driving a Bugatti maybe. One in chrome gold, perhaps. That would be even worse.”

She chuckled, she’d heard on the news a while back some rich rapper had bought exactly that. She idly wondered for a brief moment if this Lambo passing by was owned by the same dude, until she remembered said rapper didn’t live anywhere near Maine. California, possibly. Probably in Los Angeles or somewhere like that. Sunset Boulevard, and the Hollywood Hills. That and Las Pegasus were the place for cars like that.

“Least it’s not blaring the music loudly, that’s a relief,” Indigo remarked before admitting privately to herself: “Actually, it’s not that terrible. Kinda catchy, really… Swear I’ve heard this in some movie somewhere at one of Lemon’s movie nights.”

Another gust of wind blew, and she shivered and brought her arms closer to herself. “Damn weather, can’t believe I had to be out this late, and all just to see a movie… A bad one at that! ...Seriously, can’t really see what everyone sees in these Superhero flicks. Gotta agree with Sugarcoat on this one, just a lot of special effects and other eye-catching things with very little plot. ...Honestly, Martha? What kind of stupid plotline was that?” she mentally ranted to no one in particular. She swore she was going to kill Lemon for recommending that film, slowly and painfully. “...Least that car/tank in the film was cool, and you could clearly tell the actor for the main villain was having fun with his character.” Indigo thought to herself as she shivered once again. Suddenly, she noticed something, a certain sound had gone eerily quiet.

She took a look back behind her, and saw that the car was gone. Must have turned down another street corner, she surmised.

Of course, when she looked in front of her, Indigo found her eyes widening in shock. There it was, the Lamborghini right in front of her. She let out a soft yelp of surprise, not able to figure out exactly how that car had vanished and then reappeared in front of her so fast. Indigo’s arm found itself forcing its way up to shield her eyes from the headlights.

“Woah, dude!” Indigo shouted in annoyance. “Dim those lights of yours, man!”

Her eyes couldn’t see through the front window of the car to see who exactly was driving. Whether they were tinted, or it was just due to the dark of the night, she couldn’t tell. On the hood, there lay a purple detail of some mean looking robotic face, purple in color with sharp angles.

Then she heard a very distinctive roar, the sound of the Lamborghini’s engine revving up and her eyes widened in shock and horror as she realized what the driver was planning on doing.

“You… You gotta be freaking kidding me!” Indigo whispered.

Indigo’s feet started moving, fast as they could. As she ran, she heard the distinctive roar of the Lambo’s engine behind her, and tires squealing as it chased after her down a back alleyway. A garbage can was hit, and sent flying. Some of its contents hit Indigo, but she was too focused on running for her life to care about that.

Indigo found herself on Main Street, past the local KO Burger joint she worked at in her off-time to make a buck or two. Meaningless job, but right now she wished she was doing the monotonous task of flipping patties and dealing with grumpy customers and whiny kids instead of this.

She turned to look behind her as she rounded another corner, and saw the mysterious Diablo was still in hot pursuit like a car out of the Fast and Furious series. In the back of her mind, she remembered what it’s name stood for.

Devil.

“Great, going to die by a mad driver before I even hit twenty…” Indigo deadpanned, at least trying to make some humor before her demise.

Of course, for every devil or demon… There was an angel. In this case, it came in the form of yet another car ironically enough.

Red and blue lights were in the corner of Indigo’s eyes, and police sirens filled her ears. A black and white car came out of nowhere and slammed the mysterious Lamborghini in the side, sending it smacking into the wall of a building. Tires squealed, and smoke rose up as it took its leave, with the police car taking chase after it.

Indigo fell to her knees, and let out a little sob of relief, as sweat trailed down her face. Suddenly she wasn’t so cold anymore. As she picked herself up off the sidewalk, and started her long walk home, she would later realize one crucial detail about her savior.

It was an old Nissan Fairlady Z, something everyone knew wasn’t used as a police car in America...

Crystal Prep Academy:

Crystal Prep’s cafeteria was quite lively today. Many of the tables on the ground floor had students occupying each seat, with only a handful of open spaces left. Every table on the mezzanine was completely taken, with students chattering among themselves as they dug into some of the high-quality food. The place itself was relatively tidy, with not a single wrapper, piece of food, or cutlery piece thrown to the ground.

The food counters to the right were also being handled in an orderly fashion. There was a much wider variety of foods on offer, with some dishes other schools would only dream of serving. Every student by the counters pointed out what they wanted, with the lunch staff almost immediately procuring it for them. Once they made it to the end, they whipped out their cash and credit cards and swiftly paid the cashier before voyaging out to the tables.

There was a large skylight above the room with a chandelier hanging from it. The fixture in question was gold with a few streaks of purple, so as to represent the school’s headlining sports team; the Shadowbolts. Despite the rain pattering down on the glass above, the place was still breathtaking and made all of the students feel tiny in comparison.

Nearby, a girl with dark pink colored skin dressed in a red sweater was banging her head loudly to rock music blared through her headphones. Her hair was a distinct lime green, identifying her as one Lemon Zest. ...That is if the headphones and her singing loudly hadn’t given that away already.

“After all is said and done, you've never walked, you've never run
You're a winner!
Got the moves, you know the street. Break the rules, take the heat!
You're nobody's fool!

“You're at your best, when the going gets rough!
You've been put to the test, but it's never enough!
You got the touch, you got the power!
When all hell's breakin' loose, you'll be right in the eye of the storm!

“You got the heart, you got the motion!
You know that when things get too tough, you got the Touch!” Lemon sang, throwing up the peace sign as she continued banging her head before mimicking an air guitar. Nearby, a head thudded against a table. That head belonged to a bluish gray-skinned girl, with her opal hair tied in twin pigtails.

“Really Lemon?” Sugarcoat asked, taking off her glasses and rubbing her temples in annoyance. A classic quirk of hers when faced with situations like this. Unsurprisingly, a few involved Lemon’s… energetic personality. “Not all of us want to hear your music, or your singing.”

“Hey, not like there’s some woman with a stick up her ass that’ll come bearing down on my any second like the Batman to tell me off anymore.” Lemon deadpanned, and Sugarcoat smirked a little at that.

She had to admit, ever since Cinch got the sack, everything at Crystal Prep had gotten better, Cadence was much more free-spirited really, and allowed the students to loosen up more. In fact, she encouraged it. Up to a point anyways. Sugarcoat smirked, as she still remembered the day Cinch got tossed out on her ass…

“You’re doing what?!” Cinch bellowed, slamming a hand on her desk in anger. The little globe on it rattled from the force of the strike.,

“Forget any talk of worming your way out of this one, Abacus,” Superintendent Faust said as she lowered her brows and crossed her arms. “The evidence here is proof positive that you’ve been abusing your power to suit your own ideals.” she slung a dossier across Cinch’s desk, which opened up to reveal notes and letters that had been written by her own students. Twilight’s one, unsurprisingly, was at the bottom of the folder.

In the back of the room, seemingly blending in with the shadows was a dark-skinned woman in a nice suit—Government issued, it looked like—with long, dark blue hair, opal eyeshadow and dark green eyes that seemed to stare right into your very soul. Her name was (Very) Special Agent Chrysalis, -At least that’s what she’d like everyone to call her- direct from the FBI.

“And,” Chrysalis continued, holding up a video camera—Borrowed from one of the students who wished to go unnamed—“Must we forget this?”

She played the video recorded on the camera, depicting Midnight Sparkle, as some had started to call her, opening up gates to another reality, and facing off against an angelic girl with flaming red hair.

“Can’t exactly ignore something like that happening under your watch, can we?” Chrysalis sneered.

“You have no right to intrude on matters that aren’t your own!” Cinch threw her arm behind her. “I demand to speak with my lawyer!”

“He’s not coming!” Faust shouted in Cinch’s face, knocking her back into the chair. “The point is, YOU did this, Abacus. You single-handedly risked the fate of the world over a silly little sporting event and even had your students push a teenage girl into using a power she didn’t understand,” she said. “Do you know how… insane that is?”

“Not the word I’d use…” Chrysalis muttered to herself quietly as Faust took a few calming breaths.

“And to think, you then wanted our help to put Canterlot High in a negative light. That alone warrants you being kicked from the board itself, and blacklisted from the educational system…” Faust wasn’t always this angry, but something inside of her had snapped. Child endangerment was always something that really pissed her off. “If you have any last words before you’re thrown out, say them. Otherwise, I would ask that you leave this school immediately, so that we may welcome our new principal.”

Cinch growled, and spat in Faust’s face. “Go to hell. And another thing, what’s the government got to do with just a simple school matter?”

“Blackmail is a serious offense, Abacus, I asked Chrysalis to come here personally so she could deal with you,” Faust said before she stepped back and let Chrysalis walk forward. “Who knows what your sentence will be?”

“Honestly, my insides are screaming at me to just poison your water or food, as considering half of what you pulled…” Chrysalis trailed off. “I’m not above doing some very unsavory things, haven’t always been an FBI agent. Worked with wetworks before, so I’ve done so things that would make even the darkest of people wake up screaming,” she said in a low tone, and Cinch nervously swallowed. “But considering that part of me isn’t needed here, I think simply firing you and blacklisting you from any school should suffice, don’t you think?” Chrysalis asked, turning back to her old friend, and looking her dead in the eye. It was a warning look, for Faust to tone things down and start acting in a more professional manner.

A few minutes later, Cinch was seen by everyone in the school, teachers and students alike peeking out of their classrooms, as she walked from her office in shame -Head hung low- and out towards the parking lot towards her car.

Nearby, a student with cyan skin and purple hair that had been cut short, wearing Crystal Prep’s uniform was sobbing quietly to herself. She’d heard everything from outside the office door and had fled the scene as soon as she heard what was going to happen to her mom. Faust put a hand on her shoulder and looked at her kindly as she helped her up off the floor.

“...Did, did we really have to do that? I… I mean, she was my mom and all and. What she did was horrid I admit, but getting her blacklisted?” Sunny asked.

“Sunny, if we let her get into another place of education, it would only repeat. She would do it again, and we can't allow that, can we?” Faust replied, giving the poor girl a look of sympathy. “I know this is hard for you to understand, but you did the right thing." she sighed to herself.

“Did I really?” Sunny asked, not believing that for a moment.

“You admit that what she did was wrong, and you disagreed with it. You stood up to her," Faust nodded. "You realized that what she was doing was hurting people, and you stopped her. Yes, that was a good thing.”

"What if what she’s learned from this enough? What is this is too extreme?" Sunny mumbled "It's just as wrong for her punishment to be unfair. Do you think this fair?"

“Perhaps not,” Faust admitted as she pulled her into a hug. “Perhaps maybe I was too harsh, I don’t know. It’s never easy, these things.”

“I… I didn’t mean for her to get fired! Honestly, I didn’t!” Sunny sniffled as she sobbed into Faust’s shoulder. “I… I just wanted her to face charges for what she did! Reel her in, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah… But you must understand, what your mother did was wrong, and she needed to face punishment for this. Child endangerment, blackmail…” Faust trailed off.

“Yeah, I suppose…” Sunny sniffled.

“Now stand up tall, that’s how a Crystal Prep student’s supposed to be right? Standing tall and proud? Eyes forward, never looking back and striving to better themselves?” Faust asked and Sunny nodded.

As the young student walked off, Chrysalis returned, and watched Sunny’s retreating form with a look of worry.

“She going to be alright?” the Special Agent asked in concern.

“Honestly, I don’t know…” Faust admitted. “We did just fire her mom, after all. Kept her from working in any school system ever again. And what if Cinch finds out who provided the footage?” she asked worriedly, and Chrysalis put a hand on her shoulder.

“She won’t, at least I hope not,” the FBI agent replied. “And if that does happen, we’ll worry about it then.”

“Yeah…” Faust replied, still looking upon the young girl with worry. She reminded her far too much of a younger Chrysalis for her own liking… Maybe that wasn’t such a terrible thing at times, but it was still a cause for concern…

“Hey, you still worrying?” Chrysalis asked, snapping her friend back to reality.

“N-No, I’m fine.” Faust replied.

“Really?” Chrysalis asked, looking at her friend with a raised eyebrow. “Come on, I’ll buy you some drinks, maybe that’ll loosen your nerves.”

Faust actually laughed at that. Always trying to get a woman into bed with her, Chrysalis was.

“At this hour?” Faust teased. “You really are desperate aren’t you?”

“...Well, you know how it is,” her friend replied, a slight blush gracing her features. “Hard to find a good date half the time. Harder still to find one that can… keep up shall we say.”

Faust just rolled her eyes.

“Hey, something wrong?” Sugarcoat asked, as she took note of the look on Indigo’s face, one of worry and fear. “Seem distracted, Lemon’s music didn’t even get to you, and you always, and I mean always pay attention to her music no matter what it is…”

Inwardly, she suspected Indigo may have had a crush on Lemon, but she needed more evidence to confirm her theory.

“Yeah man, have to agree with Sugarcoat here, you seem like something’s bugging away at you,” Lemon put in. “Haven’t seen you this worried or distracted since the last big game.”

“Sorry, it’s just…” Indigo began, not sure where to start.

“Hey, take your time. We’re all friends here, and we’re patient.” Lemon reassured, patting her friend on the shoulder as she sat down next to her, pulling up a chair.

“Last night… had an encounter.” Indigo began shakily, and her friends all shared nervous looks. Sugarcoat sucked in a breath.

“Was it with a man… Did he try and…?” Sugarcoat asked, not wanting to finish the sentence. All conversation at the table stopped right then and there.

“Wasn’t like that,” Indigo reassured her friends, and a few sighs of relief were heard. “Although it could have been a man, or a woman. Couldn’t see.”

“Couldn’t see what?” Sugarcoat pressed.

“The driver of the car who tried to run me down,” Indigo replied, and more gasps came from her friends.

“Dude, are you kidding?” Lemon asked, her voice nearly a shout before it lowered and became one of concern. “Seriously, tell me you’re kidding us.”

“Wish I was. Think I saw my life flash before my eyes once or twice...” Indigo muttered. “Didn’t get the license plate number, sadly. Too scared out of my mind to look.”

“Wonderful…” Lemon muttered in response. “Did you at least get the make and model of the car so we can at least try and sue their asses off?”

“Early 2000s Lamborghini Diablo, heavily customized from the look of it. White, with red and purple detailings and silver rims,” Indigo explained. “Never seen one around here, now that I think of it.”

“Well, if it’s a new guy, or girl in town with this kind of car, should be easy enough to track down. Not like many of these cars exist really…” Sugarcoat muttered. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, and this is where it gets really odd… Right before he or she could run me down, this old Nissan in police livery rammed it in the side door,” Indigo said. “Like really old, classic car.”

“Okay, a classic Nissan in police deco?” Sugarcoat asked, and Indigo nodded before a thought came to her.

“...Actually, now that I think of it, I didn’t see the driver of the Nissan either…”

Right then and there, Sugarcoat whipped out her phone.

“Who you calling?” Lemon asked.

“Old alumni of ours… Transferred over to CHS, you might know her.” Sugarcoat replied as she looked through her contacts list.

“Wait, you don’t mean…?” Lemon trailed off, eyes widened.

“Yeah, Twilight Sparkle. If anyone knows anything about technology of this level, it’s her.”

Author's Note

Okay, so my second major foray into Transformers and MLP crossovers. Hopefully this time it'll turn out better than my last gambit on things like this... First off, changed the setting to Equestria Girls so I could more easily explain away vehicle modes.

Major props to both Shadowmane PX-41, Rainbowsurvivor , and Legolassy123 for helping me here with various things, and Fourshadow and Eon333MS for getting me back into the Transformers writing mood.

Anyways, I want to credit Cirrus Sky and his/her story Finding Home for the inspiration behind Chrysalis and her characterization here. Thanks, man! Never would have thought of her as an agent before that... Anyways, hope you all enjoy the ride. Autobots, and readers of course... Transform and roll out!

(Bonus: Breakdown recreated in Forza Five by yours truly!)

Part 2

Canterlot High School: Library

Twilight found herself groaning when she heard her phone ringing, and she heard a shush from the librarian, Ms. Cheerilee. Whispering a “Sorry!” she turned her attentions back to her ringing phone.

The ringtone, it was an old tune, jazzy in nature. (She blamed her older brother for turning her on to things like John Coltrane) She looked at the face of who was calling and smiled slightly when she saw Sugarcoat’s face.

Twilight went upstairs to a secluded area amongst some bookshelves and answered the phone. Nearby, the Canterlot Movie Club, or the CMC for short gave her some glares as well as they glanced up from a history textbook.

Whispering another apology, she sighed and held her phone up to her ear.

“...Really, you couldn’t have called me after school?” Twilight groaned. “You’re lucky I’m in the library, not in a class and earning myself a detention! A detention!” Twilight squeaked in fear. She could have sworn she heard Sugarcoat chuckle at the other end of the line.

“Sorry,” Sugarcoat apologized before chuckling again. “Never change Twi, never change. New school, same old you. Only you’d be in a library freaking out over detentions while it’s lunchtime. ...Seriously, why aren’t you at the cafeteria at this hour?” she asked.

“Brought my own quick snack, fruit bars and a bottle of water. Quick and healthy, so I could catch up on my studies.” Twilight replied.

“...Oh, we’re getting off topic anyways,” Sugarcoat sighed. “Listen, can you run down something on the computer?”

“What’s this about?”

“License plate of some loon who tried to run Indigo down last night.” her friend explained. Twilight let out a sharp, short gasp of shock.

“Oh my God, she alright?”

“I said tried, didn’t I?” Sugarcoat asked flatly. “But can you…?”

“Yeah, I’ll get on…” Twilight trailed off as she saw a curious looking creature looking at her through a window. It was largely orange, with some gold flecks and avian in nature. “...Uh, listen, I gotta call you right back. Something just came up.” Twilight whispered, in awe at the bird as she approached it. As she got closer, her eyes widened as she noticed the mechanical nature of the creature.

“...Far beyond any technology that I know off. Like some sort of super advanced robot,” Twilight murmured before a thought came to her. “...Wonder if it’s Japanese?”

The bird seemed to give her an offended look, if that was possible for such a creature. It then flapped its wings and took off, using its head to gesture for Twilight to follow.

“Oh… Know I’m going to get in huge trouble for this, but this is too curious to ignore…” she thought to herself as she ran out the library door and followed after the strange creature...

Somewhere outside the city, there lay an old canyon. The locals called it the Ghastly Gorge, for it was rumored that late some nights, mobsters from the city’s 20s and 30s dragged out people who displeased them and killed them here. None of this could be proven of course, or nobody cared enough to prove it with modern day technology more likely. After all, it was in the minds of the city council that they’d been dead for years, and even then it was just unsubstantiated rumors, so why bother wasting funds to look for bodies that may not even exist?

Years later, it served as a spot for teenagers to take their sweethearts, a lover’s lane if you will. Nice and secluded, far enough away from civilization that nobody would disturb them. You could just lay your blanket out on the sand, and look up at the twinkling stars above you and just cuddle up to your sweetheart -and maybe more- if you wanted. Only observers would have been the local wildlife hiding in the rows upon rows of pine trees and untamed wilderness that flanked either side of the gorge.

Of course, if you were the wilder sort, the gorge could help you with that as well. It had also served as a spot for off-roaders to race their tuned dirt bikes, trucks and dune buggies. It was quite the challenging course, with the gorge filled with tight corners, big rocks to swerve around (Or smash into) and other such things.

But it was the seclusion that was mainly of interest to a certain party, one that Indigo Zap had run into last night. Hidden deep within the canyon walls was a base, one that could probably be described as a nerd’s heaven with the improvements made to it. Once a simple silo used to house missiles during the Cold War era, now it hid away something else of a different technological persuasion.

“PROWL!” one angry voice echoed through the base, as a dark-skinned man wearing a blue suit walked angrily into the main room.

“Oh boy… He’s pissed.” someone chuckled, a small little red and white bot with a blue visor that hid his optics. “Wonder what our dear leader did to tick off the Pentagon?”

“Beats the scrap out of me, really,” a bot who was covered in military green paint with a shoulder-mounted missile cannon commented as he fiddled with what looked to be a small pistol. “But whatever it is, I’m sure he had his reasons Swerve. Prowl thinks in logic, nothing else. Robo-Spock, really. Has to be, someone needs to be the bot around here who uses their brains in a fight instead of charging headlong into one, guns a-blazing.”

“Hey, are you implying that…?” Swerve started, holding up his fists like a boxer would before a cough from behind them interrupted the two. Standing behind both Swerve and the other Autobot was a mostly red bot, with a dark blue helm with a chevron on it. Two wings jutted out from the bot’s feminine like form, with twin missile launchers on her back. Her shoulder pads had two wheels attached to them.

“Cool it you two,” Road Rage warned. “Hound, I know Swerve can be a pain in the aft (She chose to ignore the small “Hey!” from the bot in question) but can you too just stow it for a moment and let Fowler speak?”

“You mean yell?” Hound joked, as he watched Fowler survey the room in search of the bot named Prowl.

“...Er, yes… That.” Road Rage admitted embarrassingly, and if you looked closely, you could see her cheeks tinged with red.

“Where’s Prowl?” Fowler asked, his hands gripping tightly onto a metal railing as he looked around the room.

“Took the groundbridge out a few hours ago, to use the human manner of time measurement,” Hound replied. “Went to scan for where the Cons might be hiding.”

“I’d say he found one late last night,” Fowler commented. “Any of you check the news lately?”

“Sorry, I don’t watch human news. Loads of scrap anyways,” Hound said. “Always political debate, after political debate. And I thought Cybertron’s politics were bad…” he groaned out in disgust.

“Well, I for one find the news fascinating, about one of the only ways we can learn about this world as of this moment.” Road Rage put in. She was one of the Autobots most interested in human culture, aside from Hound. It came with being a former diplomat, as she once worked alongside a fellow Autobot named Crosscut going to alien worlds and forging relationships with them.

She’d then been recruited by Prowl as part of his team to track down rogue Decepticons, and when she and the rest of the crew had crash-landed on Earth, she’d jumped at the chance when Prowl asked her and Hound to scout out the planet and learn everything they could about it’s cultures. She’d even found herself a nice classic Corvette Stingray alt-mode in the bargain.

Hound had been the more sensible sort, and found an Army jeep as his alt mode.

“Then you have no excuse for not checking it,” Fowler commented, as he looked in her direction before flipping on a TV. Road Rage winced, on it was a woman talking about a police car seemingly gone mad as the driver -Whoever that may have been- rammed a very expensive looking sports car. Locals were questioned, and they said they wanted this guy’s badge on account of needless police brutality.

One particular local said: “I admit, this guy probably had reason to do such a thing, maybe this guy robbed a bank or stole some drugs from someplace,” the girl on TV, a tan-skinned one with freckles on her face, with red hair with light green streaks, said before her voice changed. “But then again, he could have killed the guy inside by the sheer force of that hit! I want him arrested, want him put on public trial!” she bellowed. Hound had to chuckle at the name displayed below. Sour Sweet indeed.

“Oh boy…” Road Rage sighed to herself, shaking her head. Right about then, a green swirling vortex opened up and Prowl drove in -In the exact same vehicle form displayed on the TV- before transforming just in time to see the news.

Parts began to shift and move and cogs turned as whirring and clanking sounds were heard. A head popped out, and doors ended up hanging out from the sides of Prowl’s body as the back end and rear windows of his alternate mode became his feet. His helm resembled Road Rage’s in basic design and concept, except white with red chevrons.

“Slag…” Prowl cursed to himself quietly as he watched what was on the TV.

“So, want to explain this?” Fowler asked.

“It was a Con, he was stalking this human girl and was trying to run her down. Breakdown, by the color scheme, unless I miss my guess,” Prowl replied. “One of the Stunticons anyways, given his driving style. I took the most logical, and humane aspect, and intervened.”

“That I can’t blame you for, but you did this in full view of traffic cams in a severely outdated alt mode. Nobody in America uses Nissans as Police cars anymore!” Fowler shouted.

“And that’s the genius of it,” Prowl put in. “As you said, nobody uses my current alt mode as a police car anymore, so they’re likely to think, eventually, that it’s just some idiot human masquerading as a cop for kicks. The car’s license plates on my alt mode, they belong to a long-dead human in Japan if anyone was going to go searching,” he continued. “So, no serious questions would be asked. At worse, someone would think that his car was stolen by somebody and that person is now using this car to commit crimes under the guise of a police officer.”

“Except,” Fowler argued. “When you’re now on the 3:00 news in that car form of yours, you’re too obvious. When you came to this planet, you said you were supposed to be robots in disguise, right?”

“Ah, that would be a problem…” Prowl was forced to admit. “Guess it is time for a change. Doubt you can just put in a requisition order for a Police car though…”

“Oh, you’d be surprised…” Fowler trailed off. “I actually planned ahead for such an occasion, and if you search in the back rooms you’ll find a new Ford Police Interceptor waiting for you to scan,”

“So, guess that solves that then,” Road Rage commented, and Fowler shook his head.

“Except if they get a close look at you and realize there’s no driver at the wheel,” he put in.

“That’s something I’ve been working on, actually,” Hound replied, and all heads turned to him. “Observe. Now, this is just a prototype I admit, but the concept should be simple enough,”

He raised his pistol, and fired a beam of light, and where it hit, a soldier was displayed.

“Holographic drivers… One for each of us, once you get this implemented properly and all the kinks worked out, of course.” Road Rage realized, snapping her fingers as she did so.

“...Okay, while you do that, I just realized I have to pick my daughter up from school. It’s about to let out soon, so if you excuse me…” Fowler said, as he headed for the exit. In his pocket rested a picture of a smiling teenage girl, cyan skinned with short purple hair. It looked as if part of the picture had been cut out, as there seemed to be a hand on Sunny’s shoulder. None of the bots could see this of course, or know the importance, but it was there all the same.

“I understand, Agent Fowler,” Prowl nodded. “Spending time with one’s family is such a rare opportunity in your line of work I suspect.”

Fowler nodded sadly, before he headed for the elevator. Nearby, Road Rage smirked.

“So… Hound. Your idea, I like it. But, one question though.”

“Yes?” Hound asked.

“Do we get to customize our drivers?” Road Rage asked with a small smirk gracing her faceplate.

With Fowler:

The ride home from Crystal Prep Academy was mostly a silent and awkward one, like it had been for the past few weeks. Fowler sat at the wheel of his sedan, with his daughter in the passenger’s seat.

“So… Uh, how 'bout some music?” Fowler asked, looking towards his daughter. “Listen, I know my tastes in the Nashville sound aren’t exactly what you kids like these days, so I went out and bought some CDs of more… modern music.”

Fowler pulled out a CD from a part of the door, which housed a few other CDs as well, and inserted it. He flushed in embarrassment, remembering the looks the music store owners had given him while he was buying said CDs.

The sound of a palm meeting a face was heard as Sunny sighed to herself as Shampoo's "Trouble" played from the speakers.

“...Dad, you do realize that music is from the 1990s? Bit before my generation, I think.” Sunny replied flatly, a deadpan look on her face. Fowler laughed nervously to himself as he ejected the CD.

“Right… You were born in 2000,” he reminded himself. “So you wouldn’t have grown up on this music,” he continued before muttering to himself: “Thank God for that…”

“Listen, I know what you’re trying to do,” Sunny replied. “And I do admit I’m happy you’re trying to do it, but-”

“Who said I was trying to do anything?” Fowler replied, an inquisitive look on his face. “Just trying to interact with my daughter, that’s all,”

“Yeah, and make up for the rare time you spent with me when you were married to mom and not arguing with her,” Sunny replied. “I have to ask, did you marry her just so you could have me?”

“We loved each other… once,” Fowler admitted sadly, with a sigh and a shake of his head, thinking of happier times now long since lost. “But that was before our jobs got in the way. She was a school principal, and I’m a Special Agent for the United States Government. You can see the problem, right?”

“Yeah… I suppose.” his daughter admitted. She was honestly surprised that her dad hadn’t come to kick Cinch out of Crystal Prep himself alongside the district Superintendent. It honestly hurt her a little inside when she saw that he hadn’t come, -After all, he’d probably heard about what Cinch had pulled, and he really hated when children were put in danger- and sent Chrysalis along instead.

In reality, Fowler had actually thought of that, but he knew he was too close to the case for it to have been a good idea to show up in his ex’s office... It was his own daughter that Cinch had manipulated, and then when that poor Sparkle kid went full she-demon, nearly lost to an alternate dimension filled with magical prancing ponies of all things. May have sounded like something out of a bad comic book, but that was the cold hard truth.

In all honesty, and Fowler couldn’t believe he was admitting it, he didn’t know what he might have done had he shown up in person and met with Cinch face to face. Whatever might have happened, it wouldn’t have been a pretty sight and he might have wound up arrested for something. He had to ask himself if that happened, then where would he be with his daughter and their already fractured relationship?

“Something else wrong?” Sunny asked, noting how distracted Fowler seemed to be every time he passed another car, just taking a quick glance at who was driving it. “You’re looking at every car on the road, or more accurately their drivers.”

Fowler groaned to himself. She did inherit his brains and perception after all, so of course, she would have noticed that. “...Sorry, just trouble at work. Can’t tell you much, as most of this stuff’s classified obviously, but there’s this guy going about stealing cars and trucks and causing all sorts of chaos with them. The real nasty sort, you understand,”

“Yeah, I sorta do actually,” Sunny admitted, and her father looked towards her in surprise. “Sorry, just remembering something my friends were talking about at lunch earlier. Late last night, Indigo nearly got run down by this fancy Italian sports car… Gave us all a real scare.”

Fowler’s eyes widened. “This sports car… Wouldn’t happen to be mostly white, with red and dark purple detailing would it?” he asked worriedly, and Sunny noticed his nervousness.

“Dad, something wrong? Starting to feel like a police interrogation,” she replied nervously.

“Sorry… Sorry,” Fowler sighed as he rounded a corner. “Just that guy I mentioned? Remember him?” he asked and his daughter nodded.

“Yeah, I do, why?” she asked.

“The guy we’ve been tracking… He’s been known to use that car from time to time on his little joy rides, so to speak.”

“Yeah, joy ride’s one word for it…” Sunny whispered. “More like crazy-ass mass murder by car, as Indigo nearly experienced a real-life version of Christine had this old police car not come out of nowhere and saved her.”

Fowler’s eyes widened. He needed to talk to Prowl next time he went to the Autobase, as it was being called by his superiors. He didn’t want his daughter, or any of her friends getting involved in this little hunt of that bot’s.

“Sugarcoat’s asking an old classmate of hers to track down the license plates of the car, if that helps. See who it might have been.” Sunny continued, and Fowler looked at her sharply.

“No, I want you and your friends to stay out of this, this is far too dangerous for you.”

“Uh, dad, when someone nearly runs over one of my best friends, hard to keep my nose out of things,” Sunny replied. “Besides, call’s already been placed as it is. Just awaiting an answer from Twilight.”

Fowler groaned again as he pulled into his driveway. Of course, it would be Twilight that Sugarcoat would call. It would have to be her, wouldn’t it?

Author's Note

Okay, so here we go... Our first real glimpse at the Autobots. As you can see, not just G1 characters I'm using, also using characters from other continuities like Fowler from Prime.

He was always one of my favorite characters from the show, human or bot. And when the Autobots needed a liaison, I knew exactly who it had to be here in this story. On that, I also thought it would be an interesting twist for Sunny Flare to be his daughter here. I remembered how concerned he was for humankind to fall under the Decepticons' iron feet in Prime, but what if it was his own daughter thrown into the mix? What then?

Also, on this chapter, I did originally plan for Sugarcoat to call Twilight in the middle of a makeout session with Trixie, but I figured that needlessly fanservicey and so it got cut. Trixie will still be Twilight's girlfriend here, she just won't appear till later on. Also, on characters, I'm sorry the last Shadowbolt got relegated to only a cameo, but I plan on giving her more sizeable roles in later chapters, like Trixie.

Part 3

Canterlot High: Grounds

“Wait… Wait up!” Twilight shouted, her bookbag flying behind her, it’s shoulder straps barely holding together as she flew out the library doors in chase of the strange metal orange bird. Far too large to be any sort of condor or eagle, it still flapped its wings and made strange mechanical chirping sounds (Sounding almost like synthesizer beats and beeping sounds) as it flew in the sky above her.

Right now, it was hovering over the school’s entrance, and with another strange chirping sound, it landed atop the weather vane, perched atop it with two small gold talons reflected in the shining afternoon sun.

“What are you?” Twilight whispered to herself, as the bird tilted its head and looked at her in an almost inquisitive manner. It seemed to raise an eyebrow, like it was asking the same question. No, he was asking the same question. It had to be a he. Twilight didn’t quite know how she reached the conclusion, but she just got that feeling.

She knew nothing about that was scientific in any way, but this was something far beyond the realms of normal science, she knew that much. The bird let out another little squawk/beep as it flapped its wings again and took flight towards the still destroyed statue that hid the mirror portal to Equestria. It landed near the portal, and slowly walked towards it in seeming interest.

“Oh no…” Twilight whispered as she ran towards the bird and grabbed ahold of it to pull it back as it pecked at the portal. “You stay away from there, it’s dangerous!”

Of course, when she grabbed ahold of the bird, she realized just how big it exactly was. It was easily as large as her, from talon to head. Twilight’s jaw dropped as the bird turned to look at her, and his crimson shaded eyes -No, optics, she corrected herself- stared into her own violet ones. They seemingly assessed her, gauging her threat level. Twilight squeaked and took a step back letting go of the bird-bot in the process, quite frightened by now. Then, she stumbled and tripped backwards, falling on her behind in the process.

She, despite her fear, took notice of a rather friendly looking red robotic face emblem on the bird’s forehead.

It beeped out a message, and Twilight laughed nervously.

“Er… I’m sorry… I can’t quite understand you…” she admitted. The bird trodded over to her fallen book bag, and Twilight shuddered slightly in fear as he pulled out a notebook and a pencil very carefully from it with his beak and delicately sat them on the ground in front of them. Amazingly, no damage had been done to either item.

It beeped out a familiar message Twilight recognized.

“Wait a moment…” she whispered to herself as she began writing down the beeps on her notepad. “That… That… I know that phrase! That’s Morse Code!”

The bird nodded in approval and seemed to smile at her, letting out a series of cheerful beeps as it did so.

It then slowly let out another series of beeps, after Twilight took out a book from her backpack. One on codes, to be precise.

She slowly jotted down this series of beeps, deciphering the message as she did so.

“So, your name… Er, designation is Sunder, am I right?” the bookish girl asked trepidatiously, still quite cautious of the bird-bot. However, slowly, but surely, she was beginning to feel it meant no ill intent towards her.

“Sunder” let out a small beep that Twilight took as a yes.

Then, from behind her, Twilight heard footsteps and a familiar voice she’d come to love in recent months. “Hey Twilight, who’s your ne-OH MY GOD!”

Trixie, as she was known, suddenly let out a scream of fear as she saw what exactly her girlfriend was talking to. Which was perfectly understandable really. After all, considering if you saw your girlfriend talking to a giant metal condor the size of a human teenager, you’d freak out as well right?

Twilight quickly got up off the ground and put a hand over Trixie’s mouth, hissing “Shhh! You want to scare him?”

She turned to look at Sunder, who only looked confused by this, actually. He was tilting his head in interest once again and let out a series of confused beeps and whirs. Now that Twilight thought about it, the beeps and whirs sounded like that dubstep music she’d heard that Vinyl Scratch girl play so often from her car’s stereo.

“Now, I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth, and you’re going to calm down, alright?” Twilight whispered to her girlfriend.

Trixie, who let out a muffled “Uh-huh…” , nodded and then the hand was taken away.

“Okay,” Trixie said, placing her hands on her hips. “Where’d you find this thing? Did you make it?”

Sunder let out a series of rather loud offended beeps and whirs Twilight figured it best she not translate for Trixie, who was currently taking a few steps back. Maybe the translation wasn’t needed, as she seemed to get the gist of the statement.

“I… I don’t think he likes the idea of being created by a human, or that being even insinuated.” Twilight replied, and Sunder gave her a look that could only be described as “Duh”.

“Okay, so what is he then?” Trixie had to ask, gripping her hands to her guitar case tightly in fear.

“I… I think he’s alien…” Twilight trailed off, swallowing as all the pieces came together in her mind. He had to be, there was no other explanation. As if to confirm this hypothesis, Sunder’s eyes suddenly let out twin green beams that scanned Trixie’s Gibson Flying V guitar inside its case. After this happened, with the shifting of parts, Sunder turned into an exact copy of it, only in his colors.

“Alien… Y-yeah… Trixie will go along with that statement…” Trixie nodded nervously as she stared at the new instrument in front of her. Said instrument quickly changed back into his robot mode.

“Size displacement, transformation…” Twilight whispered, as she jotted down what she’d just seen in her notebook. “What the frak?”

“Not the word I’d use…” Trixie muttered. “Now… Er, don’t you think we should hide him before anyone else sees him?”

Sunder gave her a little smirk, before his form shimmered as little dots on his body lit up before he vanished from sight completely, camouflage with the environment.

“Okay, that’s kinda cool, I admit...” Trixie trailed off.

“...And Active Camouflage. Definitely alien.” her girlfriend sighed.

Unknown to them, all three organisms had been seen. Not by somebody, but a something. In the nearby parking lot, amongst a sea of other vehicles rested a teal blue Ford F-150 Raptor. In a small area on the brakes rested the Decepticon symbol, well out of sight from prying eyes. And that was just how its owner liked it.

He was a hunter through and through, after all. And what use was a hunter who could be easily spotted by his prey?

“Command Base, this is Steeljaw. I’ve found one of them,” his onboard comms system crackled, a very smooth and charismatic voice said. He sounded friendly enough, but make no mistake, he was wanted Decepticon for very good reason. “One of the Autobots is within my claws…”

“Which one?” a deeper voice rumbled. “Steeljaw, remember, although I let you enjoy your hunts with that… partner of yours of lack of a better term, I do not want either of you taking jobs beyond your ability.”

“Please, I know what I’m getting into when I do a job, you and I both know that. My partner? Hardly the term I’d use, especially when she knows I prefer to work alone,”

“Be that as it may, which one did you find?” the same voice from before asked again.

“Hardly something worth the hunt, just a small Predacon. Sunder, I think. That, and two fleshlings…” Steeljaw trailed off, hesitant for a moment. Hunting Autobots was one thing, but the humans? They weren’t even difficult to hunt, nor they even put up a fight before they went… squish. It gave the Decepticon uneasy feelings about hunting far too easy prey. It was like he was like he was a Corvicon hunting a Turbofox!

“Are you having doubts Steeljaw? I could just as easily send in Flich to take down this Predacon for you. She’d love the task…”

Steeljaw let out a low growl, sounding almost wolfish in tone.

“No, that birdbrain I call a partner will not be taking my prize. Small prize it may be, but her ego’s far too big already. This one’s mine. ...But, with your permission, I’d like to ask a request Commander Onslaught.”

“Which is?” Onslaught asked.

“That I capture, not kill, this one, and his two human companions. Take them in for questioning.”

“Then kill them after you’ve learned the location of the Autobot base?” Onslaught asked.

“...Something like that.” Steeljaw replied.

“You’re not growing soft on me are you dear Steeljaw? Remember… I own you. One flick of the switch and…”

Steeljaw growled again. “Yes, I know. I’ll just require two Vehicons with me to track them down. After all… Where there’s one Autobot…” he smirked. Steeljaw may have been a lone wolf, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to do this alone. If that bird called for help, he’d be overwhelmed very quickly.

“...There are bound to be many more,” Steeljaw’s commander finished for him. “Understood, you will receive your reinforcements shortly. Onslaught out.”

Lemon Zest’s House:

Lemon Zest’s room was abuzz with chatter from herself and her friends. Posted all around the walls of the room were promotional concerts of Lemon’s favorite bands and singers; most of which were more to her tastes than that of the other girls. Band posters like Metallica’s Kill ‘Em All, Iron Maiden’s The Trooper, AC/DC’s Who Made Who, Guns ‘n Roses’ Appetite for Destruction and the like. You get the picture.

Despite the number of posters coating the grey walls, the rest of the room was generally in good shape. There was a desk with a computer on top of it, a nightstand by the bed with a lamp on it, and clean carpets devoid of crumbs and dirt. There was also a window looking out towards the garden of her house, with a pair of silver handles that allowed her to seal and open it.

One last thing worth notice was the number of plushies on Lemon’s bed. The pile looked very out of place for how the rest of the room looked, but it suited her sweet and child-like personality quite well. Some of them looked unique, as if they had been tailor-made especially for her and her alone, with a pony version of herself as the centerpiece for this huggable pile of plushies.

In the corner of the room, alongside Trixie’s Gibson Flying V (Lemon could have sworn it hadn’t been orange and gold before...) rested Lemon’s own Dean ML next to an amplifier. A pair of headphones rested next to that.

Nearby, rested some half-finished pizzas in their boxes.

On a couch, nearby, was Twilight and Trixie in their PJs cuddled up under a blanket, with another half-finished pizza resting on a nearby table. Trixie suddenly let out a scream and hugged Twilight close as a chainsaw roared to life on a nearby TV.

Sitting down below, was Lemon, who looked up at Trixie and smirked.

“Who knew the Great and Powerful Trixie got scared so easily?” she teased. “Guess we should be calling you the Great and Cowardly Trixie now…” Lemon smirked.

Nearby, Sour Sweet facepalmed. “You idiot, you never go off into the woods alone! Are you this dumb, you freaking bimbo? All just to look for your boyfriend who your only date with was a quick one in the bushes!” she yelled before grumbling: “...Whore, she earned that.” to herself quietly.

Indigo, who was right next to her, took a few nervous steps away from her.

“W-Well, what would you do if you saw a girl ripped apart limb from limb right in front of you?” Trixie stammered out towards Lemon in response to her earlier jab. “I-I mean, Trixie sure as Hell wouldn’t be acting all calm and collected now would she?”

“Personally, I think if you couldn’t handle a slasher flick, you should have told us,” Sugarcoat remarked, in her usual blunt style, as she took a bite out of her pizza. “It’s not like you weren’t forewarned this was horror night…”

“Yeah, I suppose Trixie had that one coming…” the magician murmured to herself, snuggling closer to Twilight in the process.

Her girlfriend adjusted her glasses. “Personally, I think this movie is highly unrealistic. No one, not even someone after getting ripped apart by a chainsaw would spurt that much blood and gore,” she remarked, quite bored by the spectacle really. “Even if it did have it’s benefits...” Twilight thought to herself as Trixie cuddled closer and she wrapped an arm around her.

“Really, you have to take all the fun out of things Twilight?” Indigo asked, annoyed. “You’re missing the point of slasher films! The blood and gore, along with the cheesy acting is the point!”

“Yeah, I just prefer quality filmmaking, that’s all,” Twilight refuted. “Not… Well, whatever this is…”

“Yeah, I have to say, I’m taking Twilight’s side on this,” Sour put in. “Really, this whole film is built on stupid and just shock value. ...Oh, I remember when slasher films used to be good. Not just kids at campgrounds getting stalked by some guy in a mask for the umpteenth time...” she sighed to herself, her usual ponytailed hair just hanging loose and free.

“You two take the fun out of everything…” Indigo grumbled. Lemon smiled at her.

“Hey, they’re allowed to have their own opinions, aren’t they?” she asked. “Free country and all that…”

Outside a window, escaping all seven girls’ notice were three vehicles creeping up the street. One, the Ford F-150 Raptor AKA Steeljaw followed by two dark purple Cadillac Ciels. All the lights on them were turned off, weirdly enough. Probably so they could be even stealthier, or possibly more intimidating as they snuck up on their “prey”.

Inwardly, Steeljaw smirked to himself. “Oh, how I love the magic of social media, it made everything all the easier for me,” He thought. “I’ll give it to these humans, they make themselves so ridiculously easy to find it’s not even funny. Just a simple hacking of a facial recognition system on traffic cams by Filch, and then a quick run through of Facebook pages and status updates, and I was able to find out where this Twilight Sparkle and Trixie Lulamoon -Such odd names for creatures, really- were hanging tonight, as they say…”

Shame though, this made the hunt far too easy. It was really rather boring, honestly. Took the fun out of everything. Like I said before, there was a reason he’d been branded a criminal back on his homeworld.

“Yeah, I suppose…” Indigo trailed off, before she noticed Sunny Flare’’s expression. She was in the back of the room, just sniffling to herself, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Indigo, with a concerned look on her face, walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, something wrong?” she asked.

“Sorry, just…” Sunny sniffled. “Just me and mom used to watch movies together every Friday night, rom-coms really. We each had a tub of ice-cream, the only time she actually ate the stuff actually. ...This, all of this, it’s just dredging up old memories, that's all.”

“I mean... We can do something else if you want, if this makes you feel sad. We can always do this another time.” Indigo suggested, kindly. She sighed to herself mentally, ever since her mother was kicked out of Crystal Prep, her friend hadn’t been quite the same.

Sunny shook her head. “No, no reason for me to keep you girls from having your fun... I'll just be in the kitchen, probably hoarding ice-cream like normal girls do when they're sad…”

But Indigo was having none of that nonsense. She shook her head. "Oh, come on. No need for that! We'll find something to do together," she replied. "There are many things we can do, I think. Sports, board games, video games, sports. I'm sure we could find something else to do.”

Sunny Flare chuckled weakly. “No offense, but I'm not as big of a sports nut as you are Indigo. You'd have better luck with Lemon on that front, know she likes rollerblading, just like you.”

Indigo smiled, least she got a laugh out of her friend. She had a point, she admitted she and Lemon went to the local skate park just for spots of late night rollerblading when nobody else was around. Their friends suspected they sometimes did more than that, -And Indigo admitted the idea was somewhat pleasing in thought- but honestly, she didn’t want to ruin things with her best friend.

“But seriously, we can do something else. It doesn't absolutely have to be sports related…” Indigo replied cheekily. She then tossed a wink at Sunny.

“Please, save your innuendos for Lemon…” her friend groaned. “Have some sense of class, please!”

“No no. That's not what I-” Indigo fumbled for words. “I meant we can play a board game or something! I-I wasn't suggesting... You were the one that took that as an innuendo, not me!”

Sunny smirked, and Indigo facepalmed. She realized she'd been had.

“You’re far too easy to tease, you know that right?” Sunny smirked.

“Least I got you smiling again…” Indigo smirked to herself before Lemon let out a shout.

“Hey, who wants to play some Far Cry 4 Multiplayer?” Lemon asked, holding up a pair of controllers.

A whirring sound came from Trixie’s guitar, drawing Indigo and Lemon’s attention.

“Hey, is it supposed to make that-” Lemon started.

“Oh no… No, no, no, no...” Twilight murmured to herself -Beginning to go into a full-fledged freakout- as the ‘guitar’ suddenly shifted forms and changed back into his condor mode. She’d been hoping to keep this a secret for as long as possible.

Sunder suddenly swiped one of the controllers from Lemon’s hands with one of his talons and smirked, almost as if to say… “You got game, girl? Bring it on.”

Lemon looked as if she was about to accept the challenge robot bird or no robot bird, when suddenly the entire front wall of her bedroom was blasted open and smoke filled the entire room. Coughing and wheezing, Lemon and the others stepped out into the front yard.

“Hey man, that was so not cool, I was just about to own this... “ Lemon trailed off as she saw Steeljaw and his two Vehicon companions began to shift forms.

“Oh my…” Sour whispered as two silver heads came into view, with a thin red line serving as the only eyes of the tri-barreled rifle holding vehicons. Steeljaw was much more menacing, and more animistic, possessing a wolfish face, and what looked to be a tail hanging from his backside. His hands were tipped with sharp wolverine-like claws. On his chest, which was mostly comprised of his vehicle mode’s front window was a familiar symbol only Indigo recognized.

“You gotta be friggin’ kidding me!” she thought to herself, eyes widening in horror.

“Now then…” the Decepticon asked. “Twilight Sparkle and Trixie was it? Give up the Predacon, and I’ll spare your meager lives…”

Author's Note

Okay, first off huge thanks to Shadowmane and LegoLassy for help on this chapter, Shadow for help with describing Lemon's house, and Lego for the conversation between Sunny and Indigo.

Now, sorry none of your OCs have appeared yet, but to be fair, this chapter and the two before it was pre-written before I even considered the possibility of OCs appearing in the story. Now, I hope I'm doing everyone's characters justice, human and Cybertronian alike. As ever, thoughts and comments are appreciated.

Part 4: Welcome to the Jungle

Maine: Canterlot: Lemon Zest’s House

Chuckling lowly to himself at some joke that was probably funny only to him, Steeljaw advanced. His claws were like razors, and his teeth like swords. Indigo, for all her courage, had to admit she was scared. Seeing claws and teeth that sharp on a robot, just felt… unnatural in some way to her.

The drones behind Steeljaw continued to chuckle, as their blood red visors seemed to look right into the Shadowbolts’ souls. And just looking into those visors, it was like looking into the void.

“Twilight, what have you and your new bird-bot friend dragged Trixie into?” Trixie squeaked in fear.

“Oh, so that’s who I have to thank for helping me find Sunder here…” Steeljaw lied already knowing who they were, a faux-friendly tone in his voice. “Really, I must give a huge thank you, and to human social media for allowing me to find him so easily,” he continued, dropping the liar act and actually being honest for a change. “Now, just hand him over, and no-one has to get hurt. I don’t like hurting fleshlings, honestly, I don’t. Cybertronians are one thing, but you… Well, I honestly don’t like lesser species getting caught up in my hunts…”

“Excuse me?” Lemon snapped, really rather offended by that remark. “Lesser species?”

“Well, when you think about it…” Sour Sweet said, turning to Lemon. “He does have a point. Now, forgive me for sounding like Sugarcoat here, but-”

“Considering we’re probably about to be mauled to death by an alien robot, I’ll take any form of flattery I can get,” Sugarcoat said bluntly.

“...As I was saying, we probably are lesser species to him. Look at us, we’ve barely accomplished space travel, and from what we’ve seen so far, if Sunder is any indication of this robot’s species, then we’re probably ants to him,”

“Well, at least you’re polite, so you’ve got that going for you,” Steeljaw admitted.

“Still, would be nice to know the name of who’s trying to kill us.” Sour Sweet continued.

“Well, not many bots, or people in your case, ever have the decency to ask me that question. Call it a fit of narcissism on my part for being flattered at you being so polite to request my name, but they call me Steeljaw.” the Predacon turned Predacon Hunter said, flashing them a fanged grin to emphasize his point.

“Y-Yeah, I see what you mean…” Sour Sweet stuttered out.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lemon snapped. “We should be running for our lives!”

But Trixie, for all her arrogance, had actually figured out Sour’s plan. She’d noted Sunny going for her phone behind her back -Something which had conveniently escaped Steeljaw and his two flunkies’ notice- and smirked to herself. “Yeah, that’s right. Now, keep him talking Sour… Doubtful, unless we sprint for it, and for all we know cell phone towers have been jammed so calls could be out of the question anyways, Sunny would be unable to call for help. But a simple text, now that’s another matter Trixie thinks.”

“But enough flattery and idle chit-chat. Time for that bird to have his feathers plucked!” Steeljaw snarled as he slowly strode forwards claws extended, but suddenly he was cut off by a loud blast of sound as Sunder landed in front of the girls and extended his wings, revealing speakers in them. Blast after blast of dubstep music hit Steeljaw, and he stumbled back -simultaneously covering his audio receptors with his paws- from the sheer noise.

Sunder smirked, -looking as smug as it was possible for a robot bird- and then sampled a piece of the Kiss track “I Love it Loud”, with Gene Simmons singing the titular lyrics.

“Run for it!” Sunny shouted, having sent her dad a simple one-word message. That message?

“Help!”

“Hopefully he gets it, wherever he is…” Sunny thought to herself as Lemon kicked open the back fence’s gate and the group ran into her backyard and then began clambering up the back fence as Steeljaw and his cronies tried to recover their senses. With a thud, Lemon and company’s butts hit the dirt path in the alleyway behind and they continued running for it. They thought that, by sticking to the darkened alleyways and slinking in whatever gaps and crevices they could find, that they would be safe. But even they knew that Steeljaw and his cronies would be hunting them down, and would even turn the city alight with blaster fire to get to them.

Sunder wasn’t far behind, soaring right over their heads. The roars of his jets blew a bunch of discarded papers and wrappers around, and even played havoc with the girls’ hairstyles. Even though the winds of his slipstream slowly died down, the girls still felt knocked off of their feet by it

“Damn, Twilight, I don’t know where you found that buddy of yours, but he’s cool in so many ways!” Lemon complimented, and Sunder winked at her with one red eye.

They rounded another corner and came to a heavily shaded park, panting and sweating as they tried to catch their breath. The trees there were sturdy, but against a Decepticon, they would stand no chance. There was a small fountain in the center of the park, with a water feature spewing a steady stream skywards. A few flower fields spread across the park too, but the variations of flowers left much to be desired in certain places.

“Oh, dad’s going to be so pissed when she sees what happened to the front of the house… He just finished repainting it!” Lemon trailed off. Indigo stared at her.

“Really, that’s your biggest concern right now?” she asked, her mouth ajar. “Killer robots, and your biggest concern is how mad your dad is going to be?”

“Speaking of dads, wonder if Sunny’s got the message?” Sugarcoat asked, and everyone else looked at her. She adjusted her glasses and raised an eyebrow. “What, don’t tell me any of you didn’t notice her texting her dad behind her back while Sour kept Steeljaw talking?”

“W-Well, to be fair, we were all sorta worried about Steeljaw and his two henchmen… Sorry, henchbots at the time…” Twilight stuttered out.

“For the record, Trixie noticed.” her girlfriend added, raising her hand. “...Just for what it’s worth, putting my two cents in there,”

“Can’t see how Sunny’s dad could help us now…” Indigo trailed off, and just as Sugarcoat was about to say something, Sunny herself spoke up.

“He’s a retired Army Ranger, so I’d think he’s still got some contacts within the government and probably could send a whole squadron of fighter jets down to missile that wolfbot into the scrapheap,” she replied, a tone of admiration present in her voice. “Might be a bit out of shape, but that doesn’t mean he can’t help somehow…”

“Yeah, and right now, we need all the help we can get…” Lemon trailed off, and as if to cement that, a truck’s horn was heard honking along with the roar of an engine as Steeljaw in his vehicle mode smashed through some trees and quickly transformed back to bot mode. The girls’ eyes widened, and they took a quick look to the left to see the two Vehicons in car mode coming down the street.

“Oh, so we’re playing a human game now is it?” Steeljaw snarled, quite irritated by the way things had gone, audio receptors still ringing. Inwardly, he was quite impressed, he’d never expected the hunt to last this long, for him to actually face this form of resistance. “Well, let me introduce you to the Decepticon version. Hide and go shriek!” He laughed, picking up Twilight in his claws and looking her dead in the eyes.

“Clever little bitch,” he remarked. “Finding a Predacon with abilities like those for your bodyguard.”

“I-I swear, I just stumbled upon him!” Twilight stuttered out in fear. “Happy accident, and all that!”

“Let my girlfriend go, wolfy!” Trixie shouted in fear, despite knowing perfectly well there was little she could do at the moment.

Sunder swooped in, and tried to blast Steeljaw with waves of sound once again, but he was having none of that.

“Oh no, we’re not having the same trick done twice…” He muttered, and threw a small metal disk which quickly captured the Predacon in a web of energy. Sunder squawked, and tried as hard as he could to break free. Sadly, it was all for nothing really. Steeljaw chuckled, and smirked. “Oh, don’t think you’ll be getting free of that anytime soon, little bird, as it’s made specifically to capture Predacons. Attuned to your specific type of body signature. Try and free yourself, and-”

KER-ZAP!

Sunder suddenly found himself pumped full of electricity and he shrieked out in pain as the two Vehicons pulled up, ready to transform to bot mode if needed.

“That happens,” Steeljaw continued. “Now, credit where it’s due, I hadn’t expected the hunt to go on for this long, so I’ll be giving you all a quick death for defying me. I don’t like to hurt humans, but there has to be no witnesses in this particular case. I’m a Robot in Disguise, you see. Other humans may be sound asleep at this hour, I don’t know, but you seven… Sadly, you saw me and that means you have to go…”

He looked at Twilight, and then at the girls.

“Now, say goodbye to your friend here. It’ll be the last time you see her, till you join whatever version of the afterlife you have with her!” Steeljaw laughed, and Trixie stifled out a sob.

“Run!” Twilight shouted. “Save yourselves!”

“No, we’re Shadowbolts, and we stick together. No matter what,” Indigo said, walking forwards. “And if that means dying together, so be it.”

“And I’m your girlfriend Twilight, I love you,” Trixie said. “Now, until death do us part. Isn’t that the way it goes?”

“T-That’s not until the wedding…” Twilight laughed sadly, tears in her eyes.

“Well, I really must admire your comradery!” Steeljaw exclaimed, caught off-guard. Humans were herd animals, fleeing in any given direction at the first sign of danger. But these six… They were something else. “But now, it’s ov-”

Then, he heard the distinctive roar of a V8 engine and the sound of police sirens. His eyes widened, and then narrowed. Autobots…

Honestly, Prowl when he’d gotten Fowler’s message hadn’t been expecting anymore than his daughter getting stalked by some creeper in the night while walking home. It was disgusting to be sure, but he honestly hadn’t expected anything more dangerous than something human in nature. Other scenarios ran through his head, others less disturbing, like Sunny Flare getting mugged or just lost in the woods.

What he hadn’t been expecting to say the least was Decepticons threatening her and her group of friends. He cursed himself, he should have known that it was always a possibility, the Cons trying to get through to his team’s human allies through their family.

With that, he poured on the speed, as Steeljaw’s optics widened as he turned to look at Prowl’s oncoming form. Next thing the wolfbot knew was Prowl ramming him in the torsoplate at high speed.

Then, Prowl let out a quiet swear in Cybertronian as he saw a small form slip from Steeljaw’s grasp. His optics widened and he muttered “So much for our cover…” to himself as he engaged his transformation sequence.

Indigo’s eyes widened in abject shock as she saw the oncoming police car approach Steeljaw, and then seemingly fly and ram him in the chest. There was something… familiar about this car, like she’d seen it somewhere before, even if Indigo couldn’t place exactly where.

Then, she remembered as before her eyes, she saw parts beginning to shift and change. While she did that, keenly noted that this car had no driver and bore a marking similar to that of Sunder’s on the bumper of the car. Mind you, this marking bore what looked to be wings but it was basically the same symbol. She knew where she’d seen this “car” before, even if it’s form was different.

It was an old Nissan Fairlady Z, something everyone knew wasn’t used as a police car in America…

“No, it can’t be…” Indigo whispered to herself as she saw a massive hand reach out and grab Twilight, with a gray plated face bearing a red chevron on its helm smiling at Twilight as it’s owner gently sat her down.

“It’s okay now, you’ll be alright,” the robot said kindly before his crystal blue optics narrowed as he turned back to look at Steeljaw. “Him, on the other hand…”

Said robot in question was picking himself off the ground, and letting out an animalistic snarl. He quickly tackled Prowl to the street, with a massive thud ringing out as both colossal forms hit the pavement, cracking it underneath their weight.

“So, going after humans now huh Steeljaw?” Prowl asked calmly as he tried to force the massive Decepticon off of him. His quarry chuckled.

“They were just in my way, that’s all,” Steeljaw replied in an equally calm tone of voice. “Just obstacles in the way of my real prize.”

Prowl’s optics then widened as he saw Sunder, in the electro-net, struggling and flailing about to get free. He let out shrieks of pain every time he was pumped full with more electricity. Prowl’s optics narrowed and he grabbed Steeljaw by the chest.

“You shall not have him, he’s an Autobot. One of our own!” Prowl snarled protectively. “Nor shall you harm those kids!” he declared. With that, he threw Steeljaw off of him, tossing him behind him as he did so.

“Maybe not…” Steeljaw growled, flexing his claws as he and Prowl picked themselves off the tarmac. “But the Vehicons? Well, now that’s another story…” he chuckled.

With that, the Vehicons gunned their engines and floored it, heading right for the Shadowbolts ready to run them down. Well, that was the plan anyways. Suddenly, one was blindsided by a pure red Corvette Stingray and sent flying off into the distance. An explosion was heard soon after, and a fireball rose high into the sky.

“Come on Con, you want to dance? Let’s dance!” Road Rage snarled out in challenge. She did a complete one-eighty, stirring up smoke as she did so as her tires squealed against the pavement. A blast of fire came from her mufflers and she floored it with the remaining Vehicon in hot pursuit.

“Savor the daylight. Because things are about to get rather dark…” Steeljaw growled out. With a roar, he then charged towards Prowl.

“Go, run!” Prowl shouted towards the girls as he braced himself for the hit. They took the message, and scattered. Well, almost all of them anyways. Twilight and Indigo ran towards Sunder.

“Not leaving you behind, not in the slightest,” Indigo said. “Saved our lives, so we owe you this much…”

Two things were felt then as Indigo and Twilight bore witness to Steeljaw rake his claws against Prowl’s chassis before the two began grappling for dominance against the other. Indigo, knew at that very moment that her whole life had just transformed into something else entirely, and that this was just the tip of the iceberg.

Twilight, on the other hand, got the distinct feeling that in some way, that this was all her fault...

Meanwhile, Road Rage had led the remaining Vehicon outside the suburbs of Canterlot, and into a chase through a woodland pass. Tall, lonely pines were on either side of the pass, and the full moon shown down. It was a rather beautiful, if not lonely road

The way that the moonlight shone down through the trees gave Road Rage the sense that the land was enchanted, though that was highly illogical given how this new planet worked. But even so, it wasn’t just the trees that gave her that feeling of fiction within fact. The road ahead, and even some sections of the horizon beyond it were illuminated by this twinkling silver ball in the sky, and it made the road she took feel all the more brighter.

There was a lake down by the bottom of the woods, which too was drinking in the light of the moon. The way that the water rippled and shimmered tranquilly in the darkness was somewhat soothing, the state of peacefulness being transmitted from one body to another. There were fishes that swam under the cover of the darkness, creating the aforementioned ripples. And they too barely disturbed the waters with how they nimbly glided through its’ small and almost miniscule waves.

All throughout her journey, Road Rage felt like this forest would be a true safe haven for her, so long as the Decepticons hadn’t followed her into it. Everything around her seemed inviting, welcoming her into a conflict-free twilight which would shelter her for the time being, just until she felt ready to leave and find her way back to the fight. However long it might have taken, one thing was for certain: Here, Road Rage felt like she was free, like she was alive. No longer chained to an endless cycle of battle.

That illusion was shattered when she heard the roar of the Vehicon’s engine behind her.

“Right… almost forgot about you,” she muttered to herself. The Vehicon whipped out its laser cannon, the weapon popping out of the side, and it fired blast after blast of purple energy.

Road Rage swerved to the left and right to avoid the shots, before she did another one-eighty turn and was now staring her opponent in the headlights.

Her V8 roared to life, and her tires squealed once more as she drove right towards the Con.

“She… She really isn’t going to…” the Vehicon thought to himself, but quickly realized Road Rage was deathly seriously as she continued driving towards him. “I need back-up, no-” the Vehicon started over the comms, before he was rammed head-on in the bumper, and he flipped end over end over Road Rage before landing behind her on his roof, and exploding in a large fireball.

Road Rage sighed, calming herself down some. The thing about her was, she had this little glitch in her operating systems. When she turned into her vehicle mode, she became a fire-breathing demon of the road, with little regard for anyone else sharing it. Naturally, it was a point of embarrassment for her, so none of the Autobots saw fit to bring it up.

She then saw a swirling vortex of energy open up and two more Vehicons along with a maroon Aston Martin -With grey detailing and bright yellow rims- drove out of it. Road Rage had to chuckle to herself, she knew only one con who paid that much attention to detail on his finish.

“Knock Out, should have known you’d pop up sooner or later,” she snorted in derision, her engine idling. “Still, surprised you’d pop up out of your lab and risk getting your precious finish… scratched.”

“Well, if it were up to me, I’d leave Steeljaw to rust… But, needs must,” Knock Out replied. “Now, we going to talk, or are we going to drive?”

“Well, in that case…” Road Rage replied, slightly flirtatious in tone although she sorta figured it wouldn’t really work on Knock Out given the way most suspected he swung. “Let’s dance.”

She floored it and drove right towards Knock Out, with the two Vehicons driving right towards her to protect her.

To everyone’s surprise, Road Rage lifted her right wheels off the ground and once she was past the cannon fodder sent to greet her, let them touch the pavement once more. She then flew past their boss, who quickly gave chase with the Vehicons following.

She poured on the speed, with the Vehicons opening fire with their blasters. Road Rage smirked as she saw them close in, and saw a turn that, past the guardrail, lay a steep drop. A plan began to form in her mind and she slammed hard on the brakes and let the two speed past her.

Knock Out’s optics widened as he figured out what was about to happen.

“No, no, you fools! She’s just going to-” he shouted, but to no avail, as the Vehicons couldn’t hit the brakes fast enough and went over the side.

With a sigh of disgust, he soon found himself forced into the side of a guardrail and sparks flew as metal ground against metal.

“No, not my finish!” He shrieked out in fury, before quickly transforming to robot mode and blocking the path in front of Road Rage, with very visible scratches all over his body. The doors had especially prominent damage. He snarled as he pulled out a long staff with an electric tipped prong. “You scratch my body, I scratch yours…” he growled out as Road Rage took her robot form.

“We’ll see…” Road Rage said as she pulled out a sword and switched the radio over to the oldies station and a song began to play...
"How lucky can one guy be?
I kissed her and she kissed me
Like the fella once said
"Ain't that a kick in the head?"

Weapons met, and sparks flew once more as metal ground up against metal again. Knock Out kicked Road Rage in the chest plate before he lunged out with his staff, and filled her body with volt after volt of pure electricity.

Road Rage fell to the ground, her whole body aching in pain before she was knocked backwards by a kick to the faceplate.

“Little maneuver I like to call the shock and drop,” he smirked, but it was quickly wiped off when Road Rage quickly recovered and launched a kick to his face sending him staggering backwards before she scored several swings of her sword, drawing Energon, blue droplets hitting the grass beneath her and forming small pools as they moved up the hill and into the forest.

Knock Out, further ticked off by this damage to his finish, slashed Road Rage across the chest with a saw blade that he’d swapped one of his hands out for, drawing some energon of his own. Road Rage staggered back when Knock Out switched back to his fists and scored a right cross to her face, sending the sword flying from her grip. It impaled itself in the ground nearby after flipping in the air several times.

“While I normally find fisticuffs beneath me, I will not hesitate to defend myself!” Knock Out remarked as he swung again but Road Rage caught the fist and kneed the Decepticon in the stomach.

He growled again, and switched out his right hand for his saw blade again and swung over and over. But Road Rage smirked, and dodged these strikes easily. She could sense her opponent was getting frustrated, and starting to make mistakes. She scored a haymaker to Knock Out’s faceplates, and he loosened his grip on his staff.

“You know how long that’s going to take to buff out?” Knock Out exclaimed, before his optics widened and he let out a small “Uh-oh…” when he saw his staff in Road Rage’s grasp. She swung it above her head several times, before hitting Knock Out right in the chest with the prod end, doing the same to him as he did to her before he found the staff plunged into his chest, just barely missing his spark. He staggered back, resting himself up against a tree.

“Huh, shock and drop. I see the appeal.” Road Rage quipped.

His body aching from exhaustion, Knock Out sighed and pulled the staff out of his torso with no small amounts of pain and energon leakage. He smirked when he heard a distinct screeching sound. He looked up, and saw a dark blue -With orange accents- winged form cutting through the night sky, and illuminated by the moon’s backdrop.

“Well, Autobot…” He said in mock-surrender as a Ground-Bridge opened up behind him and he slowly started walking back into it. “I give into the victor, but one piece of advice for the future… Look behind you!” he shouted as he ran into the Ground-Bridge and something blindsided Road Rage and tackled her to the ground. She found herself fending of the beak of a giant metallic hippogriff, with the Decepticon sigal on his forehead. It raised a claw, ready to strike.

Suddenly, a white and blue form covered in camouflage detailing blindsided the hippogriff themed Predacon and one hand shifted to become a giant hammer which hit the Predacon in the side of his skull.

Another hand helped Road Rage up off the ground.

“Thanks,” she told her savior, but both of their optics widened when they saw the Predacon -Darksteel, if Road Rage remembered correctly- began to charge up a blast of flame. His neck began to glow orange, and that heat traveled all the way up to his beak before a wall of flame came shooting towards them.

Quickly, the newcomer threw up a light blue energy shield with a device on his forearm to block the flames before changing one of his arms into a blaster, and with a few quick shots, sent Darksteel into retreat and into a Ground-Bridge of his own.

“Come, we’ve overstayed our welcome. Just got word from Prowl, Steeljaw’s been sent into retreat.” the second newcomer Cybertronian said. Swordbreaker, if Road Rage remembered the crew manifests correctly.

“Yeah, it’s not him I’m worried about…” Road Rage whispered, her mind drifting off towards the humans and Sunder...

Author's Note

Okay, first off, huge thanks to Shadowmane and Fourshadow once again. Shadow, for breathing a bit more life into this world with his descriptions of the environments and some of Road Rage's thoughts and Four for suggesting tips on how the Road Rage/Knock Out fight would go down. Also, credit goes to Mkchief34 for his character of Swordbreaker. Now, his paint job was never described to me, so I just took liberties... AKA my best guess.

Now, first real face off with the Decepticons. So, Con Cast so far. Steeljaw, Filch, Onslaught, Knock Out and Darksteel.

Now, on the girls, I wanted to give Sour Sweet a bit more of a role here in this chapter than she's had in the previous three, aka only minor cameos. Originally, it was going to be Twilight or Sugarcoat that kept Steeljaw talking long enough for Sunny to text Fowler, but I wanted to give, as stated above, Sour Sweet more page time and show more of her character. Make her more than just a one-note joke, if you will. Also, originally, there was going to be more to Steeljaw and Prowl's showdown, but I decided to save that for a flashback in the next chapter. Besides, with what you got here, I think you got plenty of the Bots VS Cons action quota, right?

As ever, comments and thoughts are appreciated.

Edit: Added in "Ain't that a Kick in the Head?" as I originally planned to, but forgot on first publish.

Part 5: Choices

“Yeah, it’s not him I’m worried about…” Road Rage whispered, her mind drifting off towards the humans and Sunder...

A few moments before...

“So, going after humans now huh Steeljaw?” Prowl asked calmly as he tried to force the massive Decepticon off of him. His quarry chuckled.

“They were just in my way, that’s all,” Steeljaw replied in an equally calm tone of voice. “Just obstacles in the way of my real prize.”

“Maybe not…” Steeljaw growled, flexing his claws as he and Prowl picked themselves off the tarmac. “But the Vehicons? Well, now that’s another story…” he chuckled.

“Savor the daylight. Because things are about to get rather dark…” Steeljaw growled out. With a roar, he then charged towards Prowl.

“Go, run!” Prowl shouted towards the girls as he braced himself for the hit. They took the message, and scattered. Well, almost all of them anyways. Twilight and Indigo ran towards Sunder.

“Not leaving you behind, not in the slightest,” Indigo said. “Saved our lives, so we owe you this much…”

Twilight, on the other hand, got the distinct feeling that in some way, that this was all her fault. None of those thoughts running through the girls’ heads, of course, mattered to Prowl at the moment.

Right now, his only concern was the Decepticon known as Steeljaw. Ignoring the energon dripping from his torso plates -That, if he lived through this fight, could be dealt with later- Prowl set about the more pressing problem at hand.

That was, the Decepticon currently grappling him for dominance. Prowl broke out of the grapple by flashing the front headlights on his chest and Steeljaw shielded his optics with his hands to avoid permanent blindness. Taking advantage of this brief moment of confusion, Prowl opted for punching Steeljaw again and again. But the ‘Con was remarkably quick to recover and slashed Prowl again and again before his opponent had a chance to counter. Quick and brutal, that was his style. Animalistic as it was, it was brutally effective.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” the Decepticon taunted. “Think of this fight as a short, sharp lesson in not underestimating your opponent. Take one thing from this fight, if you wanted to win… You should fight as I do. Like a beast.”

Thanks to Steeljaw’s almost incredible speed and the fact that he currently had a hostage in Sunder and those girls, it was going to be almost impossible for Prowl to get the upper hand. Keyword, almost.

So, true to form Prowl set about what he was known for doing best. Subconsciously, he prioritized every bit of information available to him at the time.

Steeljaw. Sunder. The human girls. Road Rage. The Vehicons.

He removed Road Rage and the Vehicons from the equation entirely, he knew Road Rage was a fine Autobot in her own right -She hadn’t become a member of the Elite Guard and the personal bodyguard to an ambassador without very good reason after all- and so barring any unforeseen circumstances, she should be able to deal with the cannon fodder.

Of course, on the battlefield, unforeseen circumstances were all too often a common occurrence. Prowl knew you couldn’t plan for every aspect of how a battle would go. He was soundly knocked back to reality by a right cross from Steeljaw and then a powerful kick to the chest.

“Right…” he reminded himself. “Ignore Road Rage, for the time being, focus on your current problem. Analyze the situation, and deal with it in the best way possible.”

Observe. Prioritize, Analyze, React. Those were often Prowl’s internal thought processes. As of right now, he was on the react stage.

This was proven when he caught Steeljaw’s next punch and responded with one of his own, a powerful one to his faceplates sending the lupine Decepticon stumbling back. During this, Prowl noticed Steeljaw favored his left side, and when fighting, always left it open for attacks for the briefest of moments.

“Your arrogance blinds you Steeljaw,” Prowl said as he -predicting Steeljaw’s fast recovery- dodged to the left almost at once and pulled out his rifle and fired a few shots into Steeljaw as he lunged again. They were never intended to be fatal as Prowl aimed to capture the Decepticon, not kill, but they would still disable him. Groaning out in pain, Steeljaw fell to the concrete with a powerful crash. “Logically, you could theoretically beat me. However, by fighting like a beast, you allowed yourself openings,” Prowl commented. “Fast and dangerous, yes, I’ll give you that, but your fighting style grew predictable. Recover, then strike before your opponent has a chance to attack again. But you allowed yourself to grow arrogant. You exposed a blind spot in your defenses. That’s why you lost this fight. As you said, think of this as a short, sharp lesson,” he said in a definitive tone. But to his surprise, Steeljaw managed out a chuckle.

“You’re not the only one who’s arrogant…” the Decepticon laughed, a small smirk gracing his face. “For all your analysis, and logic, there was something you failed to consider,”

“Oh, and what’s that?” Prowl asked, eyebrow raised.

“...That I never came alone, I had a partner just like you did. I’ll admit, I never expected more Autobots to show up, but there’s always unexpected variables in any hunt.”

A roar of a jet engine was heard from above, and Prowl looked up to see a midnight blue form cutting through the darkened skies. An F-15 Eagle, with VTOL fans fitted to its wings. The jet’s parts quickly began to shift and change -As it fired twin missiles at Prowl- into a giant crow-like Predacon known as Filch.

As Prowl quickly dodged the oncoming missiles, Flich took her chance and grabbed Steeljaw with her talons before a blue-green swirling vortex of energy opened up and they flew through it.

Prowl cursed silently to himself, almost had him had that Corvicon partner of his not interfered.
“What was that you were saying about unforeseen circumstances Prowl?” the Autobot law enforcement officer asked himself with a wry chuckle. He then contacted the other soldier under his command he knew to be in the area.

“Swordbreaker, Steeljaw is no longer a threat,” he said over the comlink.

“I assume he’s been… apprehended?” the Bounty Hunter asked. As much as Prowl hated relying on a normally unsavory lot, he knew Swordbreaker was a trustworthy sort even if he didn’t care for either Autobot or Decepticon.

“If it were only that. He got away, with a little bit of help…” Prowl trailed off, a small growl in his tone. Swordbreaker sighed.

“That’s to be expected, when the going gets tough, the cowardly always flee. I’ll be heading to your location soon. Swordbreaker out.” he replied. Prowl nodded in understanding, before he turned off the commlink…

Now:

His attentions then turned to the humans, and Sunder. After all, right now, there were more important worries that needed attending to. Honestly, Prowl didn’t care at the moment they’d been exposed, nor was he worrying about the probable explosion from Fowler about both this and his daughter being put in the line of fire. In all honesty, Prowl had been expecting Sunny or one of her friends to stumble across them sooner or later. He’d been keeping tabs on them, just to alleviate Fowler’s worries, and he’d learned they were quite the intelligent and inquisitive bunch.

“Come on…” Twilight muttered, seemingly unfazed from her experience with Steeljaw-Through Prowl knew better, she was just hiding it for the time being most likely- and trying to get that electro-net off of Sunder, who she seemed to have struck up a friendship with if the Predacon’s concerned glances in her direction was any indication. “Getting you out of there Sunder, don’t worry…”

“Not by yourself, you’re not,” Prowl stated. “Steeljaw’s traps are state of the art. I’ll give him that, his Predacon Hunter tools are very good at what they do. Now… Twilight Sparkle is it?” he asked, looking down at her, and the human nodded.

“Okay, good,” Prowl smiled slightly. “You’re going to need my help if you’re going to get that thing off of Sunder,”

“Oh yeah?” Trixie piped up. “Why can’t you get it off yourself? This is your level of technology, and he’s your comrade I’m guessing so you do it! Trixie almost died tonight from Steeljaw and whatever his race is called, so way she figures it, she’s not sticking her neck out again for somebot they’re likely to go after again and put Trixie in their sights as well!” the stage magician snapped, and Prowl groaned to himself, getting a bit of a headache.

“I can see why Fowler thinks teenagers are such a pain in the aft…” Prowl thought to himself before sighing. “Listen, as much as I’d love to help out Sunder, I’m no minibot. See that little disk on the net? One right in the center of, where everything seems to come out from?” He asked, pointing towards Sunder’s restraints.

“Yeah, Trixie sees it,” she replied. “Why?”

“Open it up, both you and Twilight. You two are the only ones here about the right size to do it. Hurry now. I don’t want Sunder to be in any more pain than he already is,” Prowl directed.

Trixie, sharing a nod with Twilight, carefully pried open the disk to reveal a selection of multi-colored wires.

“Ah, Trixie sees the problem…” she continued. “You would be rather over-sized for this task, wouldn’t you?” she admitted. “Now, I assume it’s as simple as cut the red wire? That’s how it always is in the movies, isn’t it?”

“Trixie,” Twilight replied, rubbing her temples. “I highly doubt Steeljaw’s seen any of our films, and even if he has, I doubt he’d make the way of disabling his device so obvious. He strikes me as the type to be genre-savvy about these sort of things…” she trailed off in thought.

“Actually…” Prowl began -And if a robot could flush, Twilight would later swear Prowl did- and Twilight and Trixie stared at him.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Twilight muttered before she searched her pockets and sighed. Nope, no wire cutters or anything of the like. She flushed briefly, why’d she even think she’d even have such a thing on her? “Right, this isn’t going to be big on dignity, but here goes…”

Reaching out with her teeth, Twilight bit down on the wire and pulled hard as she could, before eventually it snapped in two and the electro-web dissipated, freeing her Predacon friend. He trilled in happiness and flapped his wings slightly before giving Twilight a thankful nibble to her hair, making her let out a small giggle.

Nearby, the rumble of two engines was heard as a military camo colored Toyota Tundra and the Corvette from before pulled up and transformed to the robot modes of Swordbreaker and Road Rage respectively.

“Vehicons scrapped?” Prowl asked at once, not wanting any running about loose and putting humans in danger.

“Yes, but…” Road Rage trailed off.

“But what?” Prowl inquired.

“It seems the Decepticon presence on this rock is larger than you led me to believe, and more dangerous,” Swordbreaker said. “I expect a larger payment.”

Prowl sighed and rubbed the equivalent of his temples, he couldn’t deal with that right now.

“We’ll talk later about that,” Prowl told him. “Now, Road Rage, as you were saying?”

“Yes, I managed to take care of the Vehicons, but as Swordbreaker here was beginning to explain, they had back-up. Some Predacon, and Knock Out. I dueled and tried to apprehend Knock-Out, but...” she trailed off.

Prowl’s optics widened slightly at the new information of yet another Predacon on the Decepticon side, and filed that information away for later. “But what?” he asked.

“My… condition took over slightly when I transformed, more than I was expecting,” Road Rage admitted in shame. “I was nearly overcome by it, and almost slagged Knock Out.”

Prowl nodded in understanding. “When we get back to base, we’ll have you looked over. See if we can halt the urge of it’s spread.”

“Sir,” Swordbreaker asked. “Should we really be discussing what I presume is top-secret information in front of the natives?”

He then gestured to Lemon Zest, who looked ready to burst from excitement.

“Okay… she began, visibly shaking. “That was awesome! Seriously, two giant robots going head to head like that? Badass, seriously badass!” she exclaimed, nearly squeeing while the Autobots looked on in confusion and bewilderment.

“Are all humans like this on your planet?” Swordbreaker had to ask, and Sugarcoat sighed to herself.

“No, just Lemon as far as I can tell,” the Crystal Prep student replied in her usual blunt manner of speaking before letting out a mutter of: “Thankfully…”

“Seriously,” Lemon continued. “You were like: “This ends here!” and he was like “Never!” she babbled in excitement while throwing a few punches and kicks at an invisible foe for good measure.

Indigo chuckled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

“Never change girl… Never change.” she smiled. Lemon was always the one to bring the excitement and perkiness to the group, never letting anyone stay down for even a moment. At first, back during Principal Cinch’s reign over CPA, Indigo had found it an annoyance, as all she wanted to do was be the best at playing soccer, and Lemon’s constant outbursts a distraction.

But now, honestly, she could safely say that she was grateful for having her around. She supposed it all started not too long ago, about a month before the fateful Friendship Games.

Indigo, with a snarl, punched a locker with a fist denting the metal slightly and swearing to herself quietly.

She never lost, never! And yet, somehow… Today, she did. All to that one rainbow haired girl from that boonie school CHS.

A simple mistake, that’s all it had to have been. She messed up somewhere. Yeah, that was it, Indigo thought to herself as she grabbed a wet towel and used it to wipe the sweat off her face.

As she wiped away the sweat and dirt from her face, she heard a very familiar voice along with the sound of rock and roll coming from nearby and groaned as she remembered it. Lemon Zest, of course.

Sure enough, as Indigo peeked her head outside the locker rooms, there was Lemon brazenly dancing to tunes, headphones over her ears and seemingly not caring if she got caught by anyone. Indigo chuckled, even if she found the girl an annoyance with the fact that she seemingly didn’t care if no one else wanted to listen to rock and roll at the same volume she did, she had to give her credit for sheer bravery.

It would have been all too easy for Principal Cinch to swoop down and take the headphones away, and throw Lemon in detention.

Speaking of Lemon, she finally took notice of Indigo staring at her.

“Oh, hey Indigo, want a listen?” Lemon asked.

“I’d rather not, thank you…” Indigo sighed, but her protests went ignored as Lemon pulled her in close and put one part of the headphones over Indigo’s ears. Almost at once, she was hit with a wall of sound and squealing guitars as Lemon did a air guitar solo.

“Man, Slash Monkey is the best!” Lemon exclaimed, seemingly not noticing -Or caring- as Indigo pried the headphones away, ears ringing. “Can’t believe they’re coming here! I mean, do you know how long I’ve been waiting to see them? Like, forever man! And I got tickets to see their only U.S. tour date!”

“Well, there's a shock,” Indigo deadpanned. “I mean, who doesn't love obscure Bulgarian shriek metal?"

“Boy, you seem to be down in the dumps today…” Lemon remarked. “C’mon, don’t tell me you’re letting that one loss get to you?”

Indigo’s small growl gave her all the answer she needed.

“Hey, like I said,” Lemon replied reassuringly. “Just one loss. What’s the thing about us Crystal Prep students?”

Indigo smirked.

“We never lose… And even if we do, we fight twice as harder next time.” she remarked, a new confidence filling her. She may have lost today, but next time would be different. That much she was sure of.

Lemon slapped her on the back. “That’s the spirit, girl! Now, next time skittles shows up, show her what we stand for as a school!”

Indigo smirked, and thought ahead to the upcoming Friendship Games. Oh, she would alright…

“Listen, if you don’t want us to know about all of this, promise we won’t blab a thing,” Indigo said. “First rule of super secret Robot Fight Club is don’t talk about super secret Robot Fight Club,”

Prowl chuckled. “If it were only so simple as for things to be a “Fight Club” as you put it,” he remarked.

“So what, you going to remove our memories like the characters do in the Men in Black movies with their Neuralyzer?” Trixie squeaked out nervously.

“Hardly, we’re not so… crude,” Prowl said. “Of course, obviously we can’t just live and let be. You know about us now. I have no doubts you won’t say a thing. After all, who’d believe you if you did?”

“...Got a point there.” Trixie admitted.

“But, we will be taking you back to our base for safe-keeping for the time being,” Prowl continued. “I don’t think the Decepticons would be so inclined to just live and let be with this defeat. Especially Steeljaw. So, because of that…”

Road Rage held up a hand to stop him.

“Hey, it’s their choice to make. Not ours. I say we let them make up their own minds. We can’t exactly force them to do what we want. We’re not tyrants,” she pointed out.

Prowl sighed to himself.

“Alright, fine,” he said, finally relenting. As much as he didn’t like the idea of the girls out there alone, Road Rage was right. They couldn’t force this choice on them. Reaching for a small panel on one of his arms, he pulled a holographic cell-phone number. “If you do decide to come to our base, call this number.”

Indigo nodded in understanding, as all three Autobots transformed and drove off into the night…

Canterlot Skate Park:

The next day, after classes let out for the afternoon, the whole group met up at the local skate park. Not Twilight’s ideal choice of venue, she had to admit, but it would do for the time being.

As she and the rest of the group from a picnic table watched Lemon Zest grind her skateboard up against a railing before doing an ollie onto a nearby half-pipe, Twilight frowned to herself.

“Hey, something wrong?” Trixie asked her girlfriend, whose eyes seemed to be just watching the sky and just drifting off into space. It wasn’t like her at all really, Twilight was always seemingly on-task and always focused on something. But right now…

“I… No, it’s nothing…” Twilight mumbled.

“Twilight, you’ve been acting like this since last night,” Trixie remarked before pointing to the math homework in front of her. “Seriously, you’ve been ignoring your own homework. That is so not like you. You’re… You’re starting to freak me out here.” she continued, in a worried tone of voice.

“It’s… Well, it’s just about last night,” Twilight murmured, and Trixie’s eyes widened in realization as she figured out what was keeping Twilight so distracted. “Can’t help but think some of it… No, all of it was my fault.”

Trixie looked at her in the eyes, giving her girlfriend a harsh look.

“Twilight, look at me, none of it was your fault, you understand?” she told her sternly. “Not one bit of it. All of it, it was on Steeljaw and his cronies, nobody else.”

“But… But if I hadn’t found Sunder, he wouldn’t have come after us…” Twilight trailed off. “We almost died that night, and so did he for that matter!”

“So, it was just a result of your curiosity getting the better of you,” Trixie shrugged. “The Twilight Sparkle I know, and fell in love with, she always wants to explore and learn new things, no matter what the risk! What was that old saying from that show you told me you and that babysitter of yours used to watch together?”

“Take chances, make mistakes, get messy…” Twilight mumbled.

“That’s what you were doing right there!” Trixie exclaimed. “Taking a chance, and sure you may have made a mistake and got in a bit of a mess for it, or maybe you may not have. There was no way in Hell you could have known Steeljaw was going to come after you! Now, pull yourself together Twilight Sparkle!”

“Thank… Thank you, Trixie.” Twilight whispered, hugging her girlfriend.

“Hey, that’s what I’m here for. To slap some sense into you, when you need it,” Trixie replied with a slight smirk. “Not a complete bitch, you know. ...Despite what everyone else likes to think.” she joked.

As Lemon walked up, resting her Kamen Rider Gaim themed skateboard up against a tree, she pulled out a can of an energy drink, popping it open.

“Hey, so you guys decided yet?” Lemon asked, and everyone looked at her in confusion. “Aw come on, don’t tell me you guys have forgotten yet? Certain group of giant fighting robots we met last night? Hello?”

“...I hardly think we can forget that, Lemon,” Sugarcoat deadpanned. “It’s just… well, it’s not an easy decision really. I mean, if what we’ve seen so far of their power is correct, it’d be very easy for us to get killed if we got involved in their little war.”

“Yeah,” Sour seemingly agreed. “Except the problem is, we’re already involved as it is. I mean, chances are that Steeljaw bot won’t forget about us anytime soon. That’s one wolf who needs serious anger management control…”

“Yeah, look who’s talking…” Trixie deadpanned, and Indigo and Sugarcoat had to physically restrain Sour as she tried to reach across the table.

“What was that!?!” Sour snarled, before she sighed and remembered what her psychologist had told her. “Deep breaths… Deep breaths.” she reminded herself as she refrained from trying to strangle Trixie.

“I think we’re forgetting the important point here,” Sugarcoat said. “Something Sour just brought up, even if she didn’t realize it,”

“Oh, what’s that?” Sour asked, intrigued.

“Robots, with living thinking minds of their own, and by that logic, robots with emotions,” Sugarcoat stated, having realized the full extent of the Cybertronian similarity to humankind. “Robots, who can bleed. Robots…”

“Robots,” Indigo finished, swallowing nervously. “Who can… die.”

“Alright,” Lemon proclaimed, reaching for her phone. “That settles it! We’re going. Those big guys, they won’t be able to bail Sunder out every time. They need our help!”

And before anyone could raise a hand to stop her, (And later on, they’d realize they probably wouldn’t have, as they all shared the same feelings) she dialed the number Prowl had given on her phone.

“Hey, Prowl? This is Lemon Zest, we’ve made up our mind. We’re coming to the base.”

And not even an hour later, Swordbreaker in vehicle mode showed up, and his door opened with a gruff: “Get in.”

Author's Note

Okay, so here we go. Next chapter. Now, I admit, this one I have a few concerns about. First off, Prowl's showdown with Steeljaw. Not sure he entirely acts like a by-the-book cop trying to bring in a serial killer and have him face justice, or just trying to take Steeljaw down for good. Mind you, I was reassured by my friends Eagle, Villain, and Ponyjosiah, (The last of which is an actual prison guard) but honestly? ...I'll let you make up your own minds.

Secondly, I'm not sure the choice of Indigo and company going to help the Autobots has the same gravitas it did for Jack and co in Transformers Prime, especially the scene with Sugarcoat and Indigo realizing Cybertronians aren't so different.

But one thing I know I like, was how I sorta hinted that at least in this universe, Road Rage's condition is more viral-like than in any of her other incarnations. For those not familiar, I'll quote TF: Wiki Net.

Road Rage(ロードレイジRōdo Reiji) is the bodyguard/advisor of Cybertron ambassador Crosscut. She is well-versed in alien cultures and generally cheerful, making her a very good diplomat. However, a chronic short-out in her vehicle mode causes her to live up to her name; in car mode, she is a snarling, swerving speed machine with little regard—if not utter contempt—for anyone else on the road with her. This is pretty embarrassing for her once she reverts to robot mode.

As ever, comments and thoughts are appreciated.

Part 6: The Infodump Chapter

The Autobase: Ghastly Gorge

The roar of a .7 L V8 UR engine, putting out 381 brake horsepower rumbled through a man-made tunnel inside the canyon walls of the gorge. Metal plating surrounded Swordbreaker’s truck alternate mode on all sides, numerous and uncountable man-hours and US money spent just to keep tons of rock from fall inwards on humans and Autobots alike entering the base.

“Holy shit…” Indigo trailed off as her eyes widened upon what she saw next as Swordbreaker pulled into the base’s main room, where nuclear missiles once resided decades ago when Russia and America, along with the rest of the world were at arms with nervous and twitchy fingers on triggers.

As Swordbreaker pulled to a halt, tires screeching against the metal floor slightly, Indigo as she got out noted a giant version of the Autobot symbol below her.

“Wow… real subtle…” she muttered as she heard the shifting of mechanical parts from behind her as Swordbreaker transformed to robot mode. Massive footsteps echoed into the distance as he walked off.

“Well, God only knows where the heck we are, so I think it kinda works,” Sunny Flare stared down at the sigil on the ground. “Plus, who else is gonna come here besides us and these guys?” she asked. From a rafter high above them, Sunder beeped out a greeting in Morse Code.

“Point,” Trixie admitted as she gave Sunder a little wave which he returned with a wing. “...Plus, it is kinda awesome to look at.”

Nearby, on a massive table that was probably the Cybertronian version of a hospital bed, lay Road Rage in bot form with a small red microscope scanning every inch of her form.

“Well,” the “microscope” observed, speaking with a slight English accent. “Prowl was absolutely right to bring you to me. That virus in your system, it’s progressing at an exponential rate. Rather frightening, really.”

“Nngh…” Road Rage groaned as she tried to sit upright, the virus in her body halting some of her servos. “Quiznak. (Twilight nearly squeed when she heard that word, knowing exactly where it was from) You think there’s a fix for it?”

“That’s… that’s the thing,” Perceptor admitted sheepishly as he transformed into robot mode, shifting in size as he did so. “I’m actually not sure. I’ve never even seen anything like this in my entire lifetime. It’s a new thing, needs more study before I can administer a-” he continued before Road Rage growled at him and Perceptor held up his hands defensively.

“Wonderful... “ she muttered. “Absolutely positively slagging wonderful. Time, if you remember, isn’t exactly on my side here. Sooner or later, if you don’t find that cure, I’ll be as wild and uncontrollable as a fraggin’ Predacon!” she snapped, and a certain bird-bot whirred out in offense. It was impossible to translate exactly what Sunder said, but it was probably something rude.

“...Sorry, Sunder,” Road Rage flushed, forgetting who was in the room with her for a moment. “It’s just…”

“I understand Road Rage, I really do,” Perceptor replied. “I’ll be devoting all of the time and effort I can to finding a cure before it does happen and the virus takes you over completely.”

“Hey. Can we help?” Sugarcoat stepped forward towards the paralyzed Road Rage and her medic, Perceptor. “What kind of virus are we talking about here?”

“I honestly doubt you can…” Perceptor trailed off, before he saw Sugarcoat’s look and sighed.

“Just give me an answer. Biological virus or digital virus?” She pushed her glasses close to her face. The look that quelled many an idiot friend of hers.

“Fine… It’s a new kind, that’s for sure,” Perceptor continued, as if having new humans in the base hadn’t even registered with him. “It’s digital and biological at the same time, but unlike anything I’ve ever seen. What basically happens is, and nobody’s sure how Road Rage here even got it, is that this thing slowly creeps into vital systems and drives them into a sort of madness. A hate plague, if you will. When she transforms, she becomes a monstrosity on the road with very little care for anyone or anything, and this persists a little as we’ve now seen when she goes back into Robot Form.” he explained.

“A berserk serum for machines. How perplexing…” Sugarcoat approached Road Rage. “Usually, those kinds of things have been developed for humans only. How one has been made for machines, I’ll never know. Have you got a computer screen that shows her vitals?”

“Yes, I’ll bring it up. Here.” Perceptor replied, going over to a console screen, and bringing up a small holographic readout of Road Rage’s vitals.

Sugarcoat (Along with Twilight) examined the diagnosis from top to bottom, leaning in close to see if she could find any irregularities. After a few moments, she eventually found a pulsating purple spot deep within the recesses of Road Rage’s neck unit, with trace amounts of the same purple light trailing down her vines like a very thin thread.

“Biological and digital at the same time. How clever,” Sugarcoat remarked and Twilight gave her a look.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be admiring it Sugar…” Twilight trailed off. “Especially not in front of who it’s infected.”

Sugar had at least the decency to blush.

“Right, sorry…” she murmured before continuing. “Something that seems an impossibility is right there in front of us.” She tapped on the dot. “Perceptor? Have you managed to find this in your run-down of Road Rage?”

“Yes, one of the first things I noticed. That’s where the virus first started, near her Transformation Cog. Then it spread out the more Road Rage used it.” he replied. If he had glasses, Twilight imagined the scientist/medic would be adjusting or cleaning them.

“So what’s the cure for a duological disease?” Sugarcoat asked.

“Duological?” Twilight cocked an eyebrow.

“Biological and digital at the same time. Came up with it on the spot.” Sugar folded her arms smugly. Twilight sighed and shook her head, before rubbing her temples.

“Back on topic,” Perceptor continued. “That’s the thing, we’ve never seen anything remotely like this at all. Like I said, it’s new.”

“I can hear you three chattering away, you know!” Road Rage barked. “Just give me any good news you have.”

“That’s the thing,” Perceptor replied. “There is no “Good News”...” he trailed off, and at Road Rage’s death glare he flinched a little and sighed. “...At least for the moment. A cure will be found, we just need to study this a little more.”

“...Right, that’s what you’ve been saying for the last few cycles…” Road Rage muttered.

“But we know it’s dormant if she doesn’t transform, right?” Twilight lifted a hand. “As long as she stays in one form, it won’t trigger. Is that how this works?”

“Yes…” Perceptor said. “She can still go out on the battlefield, she just can’t transform. But even then, that presents a problem. Two actually. One, without a vehicle mode she can’t keep up with the faster Decepticons. Secondly... we’re supposed to be Robots in Disguise, not Robots of the Obvious.”

“...The Cons don’t seem to care for that rule, do they?” Road Rage deadpanned.

“Then—and I know this is gonna sound totally bad—but she’s a liability to have out on the field.” Lemon Zest said, but hung her head, taking no joy in saying it.

“Gee kid, thanks for the bluntness and no sugarcoating it…” Road Rage muttered.

“For the time being, I think it’d be best if you guys bench her, just until that virus gets fixed.” Indigo agreed. It was then Perceptor finally seemed to register the new humans in the base.

“...Wait, how many humans are we allowing into our fold again?” he asked himself before walking off muttering to himself about “Calculating for this new variable in the equation…”

Prowl rolled up, now in his newly scanned Ford Police Interceptor mode before transforming. His new robot mode looked very similar to his older one, but it had the obvious front bumper and hood of the Interceptor taking up his chest plate instead of his old form’s Nissan Fairlady Z vehicle mode parts.

“Looking good Prowl,” Road Rage complimented, groaning as she got up off the medical table. “New Alt Mode’s working for you sir. Hound said the new Holo-Drivers should be fully ready for their first field test soon.”

“And your… condition?” Prowl asked gently. Road Rage’s hanging of her head gave him all the answer he needed. He put a hand on one of her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Perceptor’s one of the best. He’ll find a cure soon.”

“Hah,” Road Rage laughed bitterly. “And Onslaught will just give himself up and renounce the Decepticon cause in the next week,” she replied, sarcasm filling her tone. It escaped her notice that Prowl had just shown a rare case of actual emotion and caring, instead of his usual cold, logical tone he often took with his troops.

“Er… bit lost here,” Trixie said, looking Prowl straight in the optics. “Autobots, Decepticons, Transformation Cogs? What the Hell is going on here, Trixie asks you. Mind filling in the gaps?”

“Okay, but this may require a bit of history,” Prowl replied. “Studied you high school kids, and I know how much you hate learning…”

Twilight looked ecstatic actually, forcing Prowl to amend his statement. “...Well, some of you anyways. It started 5 billion of your Earth years ago. During that time, Cybertron was divided up in a class system. What Alternate Mode you got, you earned your job relating to that. Some got to work in the Hells of the mines of Kaon, toiling away hour after hour seemingly without end.

“But there was one Cybertronian who was not having an inch of it,” Prowl continued. “His name was D-16, or as he soon began to call himself as he participated in dangerous gladiatorial arena matches… Megatronus, after one of the legendary Thirteen Primes of old who were some of the first to inhabit Cybertron and lay down the foundations of the modern day and the planet’s Golden Age. Megatronus, he won match after match, gaining support amongst the masses. In fact, as a gladiator, in killing others he began to appreciate the value of life if you could believe it, and in between matches he became something of an intellectual, debating the castes with other.

“This support allowed him to turn to the political side of things, and he soon made friends with a young archivist or librarian as you’d call it. That archivist’s name was Orion Pax. During this period, Cybertron, our home planet was in a time of great upheaval. Our current Prime, Sentinel Prime had just been assassinated and Civil War was breaking out. Even our best of the best, the Elite Guard, -of which me and Road Rage would eventually become members- was struggling to keep order. A new Prime was needed to bring things back to a state of calm.

“Megatronus, shortening his name to the more simple Megatron pleaded with Orion Pax to the Council to end the corruption and fighting in the streets that was plaguing the planet. But sadly, at the time at least, Megatron was too power-hungry and Orion was chosen instead. He became known as Optimus Prime. Megatron was furious, and his followers -Calling themselves the Decepticons- united half the planet and the war became ever bloodier with each passing year. He even got to a part of the Autobot Elite Guard, led by Onslaught at the time and corrupted Onslaught’s elite unit, the Combaticons and swayed them to his cause. Onslaught was corrupted by the most dangerous of your Seven Deadly Sins… Pride, and his Combaticons soon followed suit with each having their darker natures emerge. Lust, Greed, Wrath, Envy…

“Eventually however as the years passed,” Prowl continued. “Even Megatron, despite all the destruction he’d caused, began to see he’d lost sight of his true goals of uniting Cybertron and formed a peace treaty with his old friend Optimus and together, a new Golden Age was formed. All was well… for a brief while. Peace and exploration was the new status quo. But some, sadly, would not have it. Onslaught, along with several others including his Combaticons along with hardened criminals like Steeljaw fled Cybertron, and here we are, giving chase and tracking them down.”

“Hold on for a second,” Sunny Flare held up a hand, stopping Prowl in his tracks. “This is an awful lot to take in, you know. I couldn’t even make out half of what was going on for a few seconds there.”

“Well, I could,” Lemon nodded. “Megatron got mad that he couldn’t bring everyone together, so they totally went Transformers: Civil War on each other and decided to fight. But then, they decided to get all buddy-buddy again. Simple.”

“...That’s putting it in a very simple way of saying it, as things were far more complex than that, but whatever works…” Prowl murmured. “Now, to answer your question on Transformation Cogs… Trixie, was it?”

“That’s my name, don’t start wearing it out.” Trixie smirked.

Prowl muttered something along the lines of “Teenagers…” and sighed to himself. “Anyways, Transformation Cogs. They’re not just technology as you would think of us, but biology instead. They’re vital organs, and simply just can’t be built as you please if one wears out and replaced. No… The sad fact of the matter is for Road Rage, her T-Cog is infected and it’s dying as if were one of your organs like say a liver. Suppose you could say she’s got a form of cancer, I guess…” Prowl mused sorrowfully to himself.

Then there was a loud roar of “PROWL!” as the base’s elevator doors opened and a very familiar figure to Sunny and the Autobots alike stepped inside the base.

“Agent Fowler.” Prowl said politely, unfazed by the former Army Ranger’s rage.

“D-Dad?” Sunny whispered in shock. Fowler didn’t seem to notice his daughter or her friends, as his rage was solely directed on Prowl.

“Aw slag…” Road Rage muttered to herself.

“Do you know the amount of danger you put my dear Sunny in?” Fowler’s footsteps left small cracks in the bridge leading up to the girls and Prowl. His hands gripped a handrail tightly, barely keeping his composure “You and I know full well that humans die in one hit! How could you just let her out on the firing line like that?!”

“You think I don’t know the danger she was in? Why do you think I disregarded protocol like that, and had Road Rage and Swordbreaker rush to her and friends’ rescue not even bothering with our cover identities?” Prowl fired back. “I get that you care for your daughter, I understand that, but you’d be better off yelling at Steeljaw as he’s the one at fault here, not me! If your daughter hadn’t gotten the idea of texting you, we wouldn’t even know she was in danger!”

“Prowl, look, I’m just on edge, alright?” Fowler took a deep calming breath and stepped backwards. “Cinch is gone, and all I have left in my life is Sunny. Without her, I’d be completely heartbroken. So to have her in danger like that is something I’m not comfortable with. At all. Now, do you see?” He asked.

“Yes… Yes, I understand.” Prowl murmured as Twilight and Trixie stared at Sunny in shock, not realizing her father was a government agent nor was her mother Cinch of all people. “While Cybertronian family units are very different from your Earth families in many ways, in others they’re quite the same. If I was in your position, and my sparkling was all that was left of my family…” he trailed off.

“Fowler, lay off the guy a bit will you? Guy’s got enough on his plate without you yelling at him. Guy’s a cop, and his main concern should be catching the crooks. Let the other Bots worry ‘bout the kids eh?” a new voice chimed in, a little scratchy as a yellow-skinned woman with flaming hair and a vest with medals pinned all over it stepped into the room. Lemon and Indigo’s jaws dropped, and Lemon nearly let out a squee.

“You’re… You’re Spitfire, former Captain of the freaking Blue Angels for five years running! I had a poster up my wall of you once!” Lemon squealed, as said former Captain rested up against a railing in a casual manner.

Spitfire smirked as a chuckle came from beside her and Special Agent Chrysalis stepped out of the shadows. “Gee, bet you had some very “special” times to it as well…” Chrysalis remarked causing Lemon’s jaw to drop at her audacity and Spitfire to pinch the bridge of her nose in annoyance.

“Special Agent Chrysalis, a little decorum please?” Fowler asked.

“Very Special Agent Chrysalis. And relax Fowler, don’t get your panties in a twist, just having a bit of fun…” she teased, tracing a finger along his jawline causing him to blush quite red as Spitfire laughed her head off.

“Y-Yes, well, I-I…” Fowler stammered out and Spitfire only laughed harder.

“Is she always this… provocative?” Perceptor lifted one of his own eyebrows as he returned holding a datapad in his hands.

“You could say that…” Chrysalis smirked as she stared into the optics of the Autobots, seemingly sizing them up.

“In a word… Yes.” Spitfire deadpanned. Fowler meanwhile, was struggling to regain his composure, making Chrysalis chuckle to herself.

“So what are all you guys doing here anyways?” Sour asked. “Aside from sizing up everyone and laughing at Chrysalis’s antics.”

“Well,” Prowl began to explain. “Special Agent Fowler, Captain Spitfire, and Special Agent Chrysalis are here to help us maintain our covers here on Earth, and keep the general public at large unaware of us. Special Agent Chr-”

“Very!” Chrysalis chimed in.

Prowl sighed. “Very Special Agent Chrysalis, in particular, has been very helpful in forging fake IDs for our holo-drivers that Hound’s been working on.”

“...Mind you, she seems to have a little too much fun designing our human bodies I think.” Road Rage snarked.

“What can I say?” Chrysalis asked cheerfully. “I have a fine appreciation of the human body.”

“Too fine.” Fowler put in sounding rather annoyed and Chrysalis sighed.

“Oh, you’ll come around, they always do…” she trailed off.

“If I may continue?” Prowl asked, clearing his throat. When no objections were raised, he did. “Fowler, he keeps the Pentagon informed of our, and the Decepticons movements.”

Sour made a coughing sound that sounded suspiciously like “Babysitter…” to everyone’s ears.

“Meanwhile, Spitfire keeps an eye on the sky. She’s got connections in the military of her own, so any strange flyovers or such, she alerts us at once and we check it out,” Prowl continued. “Plus, her squadron is on beck and call if things ever were to get… Oh, how do you humans say it?”

“Hairy?” Trixie offered.

“Yes, that.” Prowl smiled. “Now, if you excuse me, I have important matters to attend to with Chrysalis and Spitfire. And quite honestly, I think you kids should get some rest, you’ve got school in the morning after all. I’ll have Hound and Swordbreaker drive you home.”

“I’ll be taking my daughter home,” Fowler put in. “In my own car. She and I… well needless to say we have things to talk about.”

“Oh boy…” Sunny sighed as she was led to her dad’s car. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation, to say the least.

Author's Note

Okay, again, huge thanks to Shadowmane for being my co-writer on this chapter. Now, the infodump chapter... Yes, it had to come, and there's still more pieces of the puzzle to explain.

Not much to say on this chapter, but anyways, blended in a few more continuities here, with the Aligned Continuity for Megatron's backstory, and the Wings of Honor universe for the backstory of the Combaticons. (Also, new Autobot!)

As ever, thoughts, comments, and critique are welcomed.

Part 7: Ancient History

“Hello Canterlot, and good afternoon to you all once again!” A feminine voice (With a somewhat African-American accent attached to it) bellowed out of the radio of Fowler’s sedan. “This is your favorite DJ, Xiraia, coming at you with the latest weird news right from my little station here in downtown Canterlot. Now, you all believe in aliens, spooks, and government cover-ups right? Of course you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be listening to yours truly!”

Fowler sighed to himself, now a few months back he wouldn’t have paid even the slightest bit of attention to this woman and her conspiratal ramblings. But that was of course before his bosses assigned him to be the babysitter for a bunch of giant robots from another planet.

“Now, strange lights coming from the hills outside Canterlot? Our very own Brown Mountain Lights, or a secret government base? You decide. Now, I recently got a very interesting tip-off from one of my listeners. Actually, have I told you I love you all? Seriously, you guys and gals are keeping my world going around, not to mention this radio show on the air!”

That statement was followed by a short laugh before Xiraia continued. “Anyways, tip-offs. Oddly enough, and take this statement as you will listeners, but I recently got this comment from a member of our very own Canterlot High -Who would like to keep her name off the record in fear of government spooks coming to call- about seeing this massive metallic bird late last night. Sorta resembled a crow of all things, a dark midnight blue in color. Now, I don’t know about you, but that screams either Prism surveillance device or giant alien spacecraft. You decide for yourselves, dear boys and girls. Now, a commercial break and a word from our sponsors, who just work for the corporate big-wigs which control every aspect of our lives.”

A short snippet of the X-Files theme played before a little ditty about some sort of toothpaste begun. At that, Fowler switched off the radio and sighed. “I swear, by Uncle Sam’s red, white and blue boxers, that woman’s going to make herself a target for ‘Cons one of these days if she isn’t careful and learns when to keep her mouth shut. Certainly not making it easier for me, Chrysalis or Spitfire to keep the Autobots under wraps either.”

Sunny looked at her father and shook her head, knowing exactly what he was thinking. “You’re wondering if you should go over to Xiraia’s and ask her to keep quiet, or at least watch herself, aren’t you? You do realize you’d only give her vindication for her partially insane ramblings if you did that right?” she asked him.

“Still, she’s painting a bad name for the Autobots!” Fowler groaned. “How am I supposed to let that slide? Especially since your friends are now working for the ‘Bots themselves?”

“You mean painting a bad name for the US Government, right?” Sunny deadpanned. “Because I didn’t hear anything in that broadcast that even mentioned the Autobots last I checked,”

“Paparazzi and reporters, I’ve always hated them,” He muttered to himself as he turned a corner past the local KO Burger. “All they do is twist the news to make juicy stories that everyone will read or listen to just because it’s ‘big’ or ‘a shocker’. Not even the worst sociopaths on the planet are worse than these stuck-up double-talkers.”

“You know, I think that’s one of the few things you and Mom ever agreed on…” Sunny laughed bitterly, a trace of sadness in her tone. “Mind you, I really don’t think a radio host counts as a reporter, or at least a radio host for a show themed around conspiracies, the paranormal and aliens.”

“It’s a distinction without a difference. She’s still lying to the masses and putting them on her side, refusing to get the true story from the real people involved in the chaos.” Fowler grumbled. “Remind me to give her a piece of my mind the next time I see her, alright?”

“Like I said, you’d just be vindicating her paranoid ramblings.” Sunny reminded him.

“Yeah, you’re right. But it still pisses me off,” he said, rubbing his temples as they pulled up to Fowler’s home and onto the driveway. “Can’t say I’m too pleased with you and the rest of your friends getting involved in this little ‘Con Hunt that the Autobots are conducting.”

“Aw, c’mon, Fowler. It’s gonna be awesome!”

Both Fowler and Sunny turned their heads to see Lemon walking up to them both. Her hands were behind her head and her headphones were connected by Bluetooth to the phone in her pocket, which was playing her favorite songs. Sunny was able to catch a snippet of what was currently playing when Lemon took off her headphones to speak.

“Sabaibaru You got move
Gendai wa sanagara sengoku
Dare ga kachinukeru
Kagi wa hirake rarete shimatta

(Don't Say No JUST LIVE MORE)

“Doko ni aru?
Do tsukau?
Kindan no kajitsu

“`Ima' to iu kaze wa nani o tsutaeru tame
(Omae no moto ni fuku tsuyoku tsuyoku Blowin' up)
Ashita ga yume ga mada mienakute mo
(Soko genkai seiippai ikite iru to ierunara)”

Sunny chuckled to herself, from what little Japanese she did understand that song suited her friend perfectly.

“No offense Lemon, but I highly doubt you’re helping my case…” she deadpanned. “How’d you even find us anyways?”

“Uh, the address book?” Lemon asked, with a small smirk gracing her face. Sunny groaned, out of all her of friends that had to come to talk some sense into Fowler, why’d it have to be Lemon? Couldn’t it have been Sugarcoat or Twilight? “Look, Fowler, I know you’re super-stingy about the safety of your daughter, but she’s in good hands. Me, Indy, Sour, Sugar, and the Bots are gonna be fine.”

“Lemon, you’re hardly at the sort of age where you’re able to make the best judgements,” Fowler remarked. He wasn’t trying to come off as condescending, but concerned. He really didn’t want to see teenagers caught up in an intergalactic police chase between metal titans capable of crushing a human with one step.

“Well, at least I’m not Sugarcoat. That girl is really stuffy,” Lemon folded her arms. “Would you rather have her here and say you’re not helping Sunny grow stronger because you’re being overprotective? Because she’d say that. Sugarcoat has, like, no filter at all. Nada, zip, zilch.”

“Lemon…” Sunny gritted her teeth.

“Lemon, think about a scenario for a second. What if the Decepticons found out where my daughter lived—and you know they can as they found out where you lived—and kidnapped her? She wouldn’t last long under their care. They could care less about us humans!” Fowler argued.

“I know. That’s why we’re not only hunting Cons, but we’re gonna crush ‘em into scrap. That way, you, the Bots, and everyone else doesn’t need to worry ‘bout ‘em anymore,” How Lemon was still smiling was a question the others may never have an answer to. “Plus, Perceptor’s making us super-awesome battle gear that’ll keep us safe from Cons and their tech. Nothing to worry about.”

“I’m curious,” Sunny asked. “How is Perceptor finding the time to do that, worry about Road Rage’s virus, and anything else he’s probably got under his belt? One scientist can only do so much after all.”

“Perceptor doesn’t even sleep. Unlike us, he works twenty-four seven, even when other bots are off in robo-dreamland,” Lemon nodded. “It’s like he doesn’t even have a re-energizing matrix like the others do.”

“Forgive me for still being concerned, but I really don’t think this is the best idea. I’d think a scientist would know better than to involve kids in this kind of thing!” Fowler remarked as he and his daughter stepped out of the car.

“Technically, children are aged from zero to twelve years old. We are all aged seventeen to nineteen, thereby making us teenagers and not kids.”

Sugarcoat now approached the girls, looking as unamused and to-the-point as ever. Nearby, Swordbreaker in vehicle mode rested parked at the edge of the curb, engine idling. With her triple ponytail hairstyle swaying gently in the wind, she stepped up to Fowler and crossed her arms.

“Fowler, you have had a traumatic experience with Sunny before. I can tell from your tone of voice.” Sugarcoat raised a brow at him. “And because of that experience, you have developed an overprotective personality. It’s not healthy for you or for her. You should stop being overprotective and let Sunny fend for herself.”

Fowler sighed. “I nearly had my daughter die at the hands of the Decepticons once, and I don’t want to have it happen a second time. You can understand that right?” he asked her.

“All these bad emotions are nothing more than a waste of time. Regret, anxiety, doubt, it’s nothing more than weakness. A weakness you choose to exploit upon yourself to prove you can’t get any better.” Sugarcoat didn’t back down, and handed down a swift, and sharp truth. “I removed all these emotions from my life, and I am much happier for it, even though I choose not to show it most of the time,” she continued. “And I encourage everyone else at Crystal Prep to do so as well, as negative emotions mean bad grades and a loss in overall morale, thereby lowering the quality of Crystal Prep students and painting a bad image for them and for their education as well.”

Fowler tried to form a rebuttal to that remark, but found none. Finally, he sighed. “Alright, she’s allowed to stay with the Autobots, but should I find out something’s happened to her—”

“Which it won’t.” Sugarcoat interjected with a raised finger.

“If I may continue?” Fowler asked. “Should I find something’s happened to her, I will not hesitate to come and save her myself. I can still pilot a fighter jet and scramble a squadron, you know.”

“If you’re that worried about her, then why don’t you join our cause and fight alongside her?” Sugarcoat cocked a brow. “Then, you wouldn’t have to worry about her dying away from your side. You can be with her and keep her safe no matter what.”

“Sadly,” Fowler commented, gesturing to his gut. “I really don’t think I’d fit in one of those suits. I’m more suited to working behind a desk, and keeping the Autobots under wraps.”

“They’re polymorphic fibers. One size fits all.” Sugarcoat showed hers off under her skirt. “A special gift from Perceptor. And they raise your metabolism and increase your pain threshold.”

Fowler hummed to himself. “It’s worth a thought. But as for right now, I have to work from behind the scenes. I have a general to report to and keep him reassured that the Autobots are no threat to mankind. Let me tell you, Bryce is as stubborn as they come.”

“Suit yourself,” She turned her back. “Sunny, you and Lemon should get back to Autobot HQ soon and suit up. Indigo and Sour are already there, and training hard with their blasters. Twilight and Special Agent Chrysalis (Sugarcoat wasn’t going to use Chrysalis’s self-given moniker and feed her ego any more than needed) are helping Prowl research who we know’s on Earth with Onslaught’s crew, and who is suspected of following him.” Sugarcoat said in response.

“Alright. I’ll just finish up with dad, then I’ll be right there. Have a Groundbridge spawn at my location.” Sunny nodded. “It’s much faster than being driven back by the Bots.”

“As you wish.” Sugarcoat replied as she waved Sunny and Fowler goodbye and gestured for Lemon to follow her back to the still waiting Swordbreaker. Soon as they were both inside, the bounty hunter for hire drove off into a groundbridge of his own. “I’ll give you a moment to say goodbye to him.”

“Listen, dad…” Sunny sighed, after a long silence. “I know you’re not happy about this, but there’s not much you can do to stop me now. As soon as Twilight found Sunder, and Steeljaw attacked us, I was dragged into this, like it or not.”

“I know. And I know I can’t stop you.” Fowler put a hand on her shoulder. “Just promise me that you’ll come back safe and sound, alright?”

“Hey, I got you looking out for me, so I know I’ll be fine, right?” Sunny asked.

Fowler laughed, and ruffled his daughter’s hair. “That’s my girl. I… I just wish I didn’t have to see you grow up this fast, that’s all. I wanted you to spend a few more years like a normal teenager, just goofing off with your friends. Or, whatever counts as goofing off for you,” he laughed again, this time in a softer manner. “I just didn’t want you to grow up like me or your mother, and become all completely serious, that’s all. God knows it takes a special kind of man or woman to stand that.” he joked.

“Dad. I’m still a teenage girl deep down,” Sunny smiled. “Once this is over, I’ll still have plenty of time to goof off and hang out with my friends. Especially with Indy, Lemon, and their friends.”

Fowler smiled and kissed his daughter’s forehead as the distinct glowing green-blue form of a groundbridge opened up and he watched as she stepped into it. What neither of them -nor Swordbreaker for that matter- saw was a midnight blue mechanical jaguar perched atop a rooftop eyeing them through her golden optics, before she leaped away.

Autobase:

Back at the Autobot Base, Twilight found herself approaching Perceptor, who—Like Sugarcoat had said—was hard at work looking over the files on the list of Decepticons (And from what they now knew, Predacons) following Onslaught’s command.

Currently, while the scientist murmured something to himself under his breath, the image of Knock Out was displayed on-screen, along with a list of crimes he’d allegedly committed.

“Interesting, very interesting indeed…” Perceptor murmured to himself as he looked over Knock Out’s file. As he did so, he used a finger to rub his chin in thought.

“What’s so interesting?” Twilight asked, as she walked up, looking up towards Perceptor. She wore a magenta skin-tight suit with chrome leading from her chest to her arms, complete with glove and foot parts. Her head was the only thing that wasn’t covered in super-cloth, but her neck was still wrapped in it. Some small epaulettes stuck out of her shoulders, but they were more for design than anything.

“Nothing, it’s just…” Perceptor began before he faltered. He soon regained his composure, looking down at Twilight. “The most terrifying words in the English language are: I'm from the government and I'm here to help.”

“Ronald Reagan,” Twilight remembered, and Perceptor nodded.

“Correct, I’ve been doing some reading. Here’s another quote for you. “We must reject the idea that every time a law's broken, society is guilty rather than the lawbreaker. It is time to restore the American precept that each individual is accountable for his actions.” Perceptor commented.

“Is there a point to all this?” Twilight asked, starting to grow annoyed, as she took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Yes, been doing some reading that leads me to believe that Knock Out, along with several other members of the Darksyde aren’t as guilty as we originally believed them to be,” Perceptor replied. If Twilight was as smart as she was supposed to be, she’d figure out what the scientist was implying with the first Reagan quote.

“The Darksyde?” Twilight questioned, and if a robot could flush she imagined Perceptor would have.

“Right, sorry. The ship that Onslaught stole. Anyways, Knock Out, along with several other criminals onboard that ship, I’ve uncovered some evidence that makes me believe that they were framed for their crimes, or simply coerced into joining up with Onslaught.”

“By coerced, I assume you mean forced or blackmailed right?” Twilight questioned.

“Precisely,” Perceptor nodded. “I’m not bringing this up to Prowl yet, as I’m not entirely certain yet, but as soon as I uncover concrete evidence that they were framed for their crimes I will do so.”

A groundbridge materialized before them both, with Sunny Flare, Lemon Zest, Sugarcoat, and Swordbreaker appearing from the other side before it vanished. Swordbreaker, as soon as his passengers climbed out, transformed to robot mode.

“Lemon, Sunny, Sugar. You’re back!” Twilight exclaimed happily as she approached the three of them. “Was it hard to deal with Fowler?”

“Not once I arrived,” Sugarcoat shook her head. “Let’s just say that he and Sunny needed some convincing for him to even consider letting her go.”

“Well, mostly Fowler,” Lemon commented, putting her two cents in. “Cool suit, Twi,” she remarked, briefly wondering how Indigo would look in one like it. She flushed briefly, before clearing her head of the image.

“Do you like it? Perceptor himself colored it.” Twilight blushed slightly. “And I see you’re wearing yours too, Sugarcoat.”

Sugarcoat quickly threw off her other clothes, revealing her version of the suit. Minus the epaulettes, it was mostly the same, only with a little breastplate on the front. “I have to be prepared for any situation, so this suit never comes off.”

“Geez, must chafe a little…” Lemon remarked. “Hardly fashionable, makes one wonder what that fashionista friend of Twilight’s would have to say if she ever saw you in it,” she joked.

“If Rarity were here, she would have made them a lot more appealing, I know.” Twilight hung her head. “But if she got caught up in this fight too, it would be much too risky. There’s already too many of my friends in this fight…” she trailed off, thinking of Trixie. “And besides, what Rarity doesn’t know about fashion disasters won’t hurt her, right?” Twilight asked.

“Fair enough,” Lemon admitted. “So, when do I get fitted for my new duds?”

“Follow me. I’ll get you two ready,” said Twilight, turning to one of the doors in the Autobase.

“Not just yet,” Sugarcoat asked, as she looked towards Sunder, who was preening his wings. “I have to ask, how does a Predacon end up on a Decepticon fugitive hunt?”

“Now, that’s a story in itself,” Perceptor commented. “I can tell you what I know, and this is only what Prowl told me.”

“Why don’t we walk and talk?” Sunny asked. “It’d save us time, and the suits could be a few rooms away. And, I kinda wanna know too. How does a beast hunt down its’ fellow beasts?”

“Okay then…” Perceptor began. “Now, this was a little over a year ago, right when our current Prime, Nova Prime had ordered us to begin our hunt and capture of these rogue Cons.”

Cybertron: The Sea of Rust:

The area in Cybertron known as the Sea of Rust, stretching from Tyrest to Polyhex all the way to the Tagan Heights and Altihex had been almost completely wiped from the world. Ruins of a once mighty civilization now laid half-submerged in a sea of sand and ruins. Massive machine-like structures laid in tatters, with winds howling violently in the distance. Not a single part of the city looked alive, and it seemed like it never would again. Truly, this was a symbol of the end. The end of an era for this corner of the planet.

Amidst the sand, on the outskirts of the barren ghost town, were three Autobots. Prowl, -in the form of a hovercar- who looked like he would rather be somewhere else right there and then. Accompanying him was a dark green and black toned Autobot in the form of an ATV, alongside a Cybertronian truck colored in pure white with gold rims.

“Really don’t get it, how can the Predacons even scrounge up a living out here?” Crosshairs, the ATV asked, as he transformed to robot mode, somehow gaining a duster in the process. Prowl was soon to follow. “Personally, I say we should just clear on out of here as soon as possible, and be done with the place.”

Parts shifted and whirred as Nova transformed to robot mode. Now, a tall and powerful Autobot stood before them. Plated in a shimmering coat of white and gold, with his windshield acting as his upper chest and a headrest at the back of his head, he looked like the definition of intimidation. That was further validated when he pulled out a massive, cyan axe which glowed brightly, like a neon weapon splitting the darkness around them. He slammed the tip of said axe into the ground to silence Crosshairs. “Predacons are renowned for their tracking skills, and so if this retrieval mission is to go as planned, it would be a prudent move for Prowl and his crew to have at least one on their side.”

“Ugh, you just wanna die for the guy. That's leadership. Or brainwashing, or something." Crosshairs grumbled to himself in a tone of disgust.

“No, that’s because he’s a Prime.” Prowl corrected his compatriot. He sighed, there was a reason Crosshairs had flunked out of the Elite Guard.

“...And I’m just the back-up in case things go south, right?” Crosshairs asked, pulling out his twin pistols, and training them to the many crevices around them. A pair of infrared goggles moved down to cover his optics. “Wonderful. Do you realize who we’re dealing with right? Predaking doesn’t take kindly to visitors.”

“You’re remarkably intelligent, for an Autobot,” an English accented voice came from somewhere in the ruins, sounding smug and superior. It was as if the owner of the voice thought himself above the other Cybertronians. This was only validated by the fact that he did not bother naming Crosshairs. “But don't let your imagination run away with you.”

“So… You finally arrive at last, Nova Prime.” Predaking stomped forward from out of the shadows, and tossed a cloak off revealing his massive form. “I was wondering when a Prime would come to call. Surely you realize that your success has made you some bitter enemies?” he asked.

Predaking arched his neck up as his body began to transform. First, he arched himself down onto all fours, as his body opened up limb by limb, with more and more pieces popping out of it. His body grew in size and contorted, as two massive slender, rectangular parts extended out of his back. Those parts of him curled out, and elongated, forming a massive pair of red wings that shone brightly in the fading sun of the Rust Sea. His claws stretched out as well, becoming sharper as the palms extended into massive talons.

Next, a large tail extended out of his coccyx, which became longer and longer, until a massive knife-like part stopped at the end. Finally, his head, which now stood on a massive, snake-like neck began to change, with most of his face becoming obscured by shards of metal. All that was left of it was his eyes, metal nose, and mouth. The rest was completely covered out, as two horns poked out of the top.

Predaking let out a ferocious earth-shaking roar and breathed orange purple flame out of his mouth before crawling up to Nova Prime. “Let’s see just how weak the Prime Lineage has grown,” He spoke in a double-toned, almost demonic voice, yet still somehow kept up that refined English accent. “I stood up to Optimus Prime, and he defeated me in combat, and I respect his abilities. But somehow I doubt you have the same caliber to resist me,”

“At ease Predaking,” Nova Prime replied, bowing in a sign of respect. Prowl quickly got the message and motioned for Crosshairs to do the same. “We did not come here to fight. We came only for a simple request.”

“Oh?” Predaking asked, leaning forwards. All around him, several other members of his species crawled out of crevices, including a yellow and dark blue griffon (Darksteel), an orange and gold condor (Sunder) and a black Fenris wolf-like creature with a spined backside amongst others.

“Exactly, I bear you or your species no ill intent. None of us do,” Nova replied. “All we want is to talk.”

“Unfortunately, for me to even consider talking, you will have to best me in a trial by combat, that is always been my creed,” Predaking replied, striking a pillar with his talons, and leaving deep gauge marks. Nova Prime would never admit it, but he was afraid. Predaking was a warrior, born in fire and in steel, and he possessed a warrior’s pride. “The Predacon creed.”

Nova Prime rose, and both Prowl and Crosshairs shot him looks of fear wondering if their current leader was suicidal. This worry was only increased by the moment when Nova dropped his axe to the ground, it hitting the metal earth beneath it with a powerful clang.

“But it is not the Autobot creed.” Nova replied. “You are more than just a simple beast.”

Predaking circled the three Autobots like a bear, fangs bared. “You have nice manners for a thief... And a LIAR!” he roared. “Funny how you say that, and yet the Cybertronian government drove us back here to these barren wastes, -A sorry caricature of a home- out of pure fear. Here, it’s dog eat dog, and we’re forced to survive on scraps. So, I ask you, why should I talk to you, a member of that very same government?” he asked, his throat glowing orange as he charged up another blast of pure flame. “Do not take me for a fool. I know of that axe, it once belonged to my predecessor, Scourge, until Megatron looted it from his rusting corpse and left the Scraplets to fest on whatever was left.”

“Yes, I know of my weapon’s… history. And now I return it to you, it’s rightful owner.” Nova replied, kicking the axe towards the massive dragon who was still circling him and presumably contemplating on how best to rend him to scrap metal. Predaking actually looked surprised by this gesture, and actually transformed back into robot mode picking up the axe as he did so.

“You are a rare breed of Cybertronian, Nova Prime. Perhaps the lineage of the Primes hasn’t diluted as much as I thought it had. Now, we may speak. What is your… request?” he asked.

“I simply ask for a small selection of your Predacons, two or three at most. Your species, and their tracking abilities are well-known are they not?” Nova asked.

“Yes, we quite pride ourselves on them,” Predaking replied. “Your point?”

“Several Decepticons have gone rogue, and Prowl here has been assigned to track them down under a small task force.”

“I see…” Predaking mused, rubbing his chin in thought. “Yes, I suppose I could lend you two of my subordinates. Feral Steel, Sunder, come forth!” he barked, and the wolf and condor Predacons came to his side. Nodding in understanding, they soon stood beside Prowl. What happened next, truly surprised everyone -Predacon and Autobot alike- when Predaking handed Nova Prime back his axe.

“But this weapon is rightfully yours…” Prowl spoke in surprise.

“No, it is no longer,” Predaking told him. “It belongs to the Prime now, he’s proven himself worthy of it. Now leave me,” he requested. “I have a great many things to think about…”

As the three Autobots transformed to vehicle mode, Nova Prime spoke once more.

“Perhaps, one day, a true alliance can be formed.” he mused.

“Perhaps.” Predaking commented.

Author's Note

Okay, first off, an apology for taking so long on this chapter. (More explanation can be found here if you haven't already seen it) Secondly, a huge thank you to Shadowmane for being my co-writer on this chapter, and to RuinQueen for allowing me the usage of Xiraia. Also, a thank you to TheArcticWolf for the usage of Feral Steel.

Now, I was planning for Twilight and company to get this armor later in the story, for Targetmaster purposes, but seems Shadow beat me to that idea.

Now, on Fowler, a question. Do you think he seems reasonable enough, and his overprotectiveness has a good sound bearing? Probably a stupid question, I know, but I have to ask it. Anyways, as ever, comments, thoughts, and critique are welcomed.

Part 8: Howlback

The next scene of importance to our story, it takes place later that very same day at the home of one Special Agent Chrysalis. Well, actually by the time this scene takes place, dusk had long fallen over the streets of Canterlot and the moon was high in the sky.

Outside the little home nestled deep within the sprawl of suburbia -Being a Special Agent of the FBI didn’t pay as well as you might have expected- a certain cat-bot was on the prowl. Metallic fangs glinting in the low light, eyes a deep red, this was the same Decepticon that had been keeping an eye on Special Agent Fowler a few hours before.

Unlike the some of the other dimwits she had to work with, Howlback prided herself on her intelligence. She knew who Steeljaw had gone after once he’d found Sunder, and so she looked into any possible family relations of Sunny Flare’s through the magic of what the humans called the Internet, and more specifically social networking pages. Primus knew humans loved to talk about their social lives. What ailed them, who was breaking up with who, what movies they went to see and other such non-important gossips. However, unlike Steeljaw who wasn’t nearly as intelligent as he liked to think of himself, Howlback actually went as far as to see who Sunny Flare was related to, and that led her to Fowler. From there, she managed to actually hack into an FBI database from a computer and look at who he was generally associated within his line of work, learning who might have been helping the Autobots stay hidden.

Granted, it had taken a bit of work, and going through a lot of FBI firewalls but she’d found who who’d been assigned to the Autobot case, known as the MUETO (Massive Unidentified Extraterrestrial Organism) case in the files. Humans, as much as Howlback hated to admit it, were a lot smarter than she gave them credit for.

At least some of them anyways.

And apparently, they really loved acronyms.

Either way, Howlback’s search had led to her to Chrysalis, one of the three humans helping the Autobots and acting as their liaisons on Earth. She, being a government agent herself, had attracted Howlback’s interest. Most would think this to be a terrible thing, really, given the Decepticon’s reputation as one of those bots who was a master at striking fear into others. It was a very good tool during her time with the public safety unit of the government, shutting down insurgencies and the like. Actually, that was why she was here on Earth, but more on that later.

The particulars of Chrysalis’ personality, and what she did for a living (Redacted or not) attracted Howlback to her. Not in a sexual sense, but one of curiosity. She was a cat, after all. Or at least a mechanical one.

Back to Howlback’s role in the public safety forces and her reasons for being on Earth. Like I said, she was a lot smarter than the average member of Onslaught’s crew, and played the ice cold killer and stalker part very well. But in reality, the Cybertronian government at the request of Nova Prime himself had sent her in undercover as a mole within the ranks to get information on what Onslaught was doing, who he had with him, and to feed that information back to the Autobots if possible.

Hiding in the shrubbery in Chrysalis’ backyard, and being very careful not to make even the slightest noise, the jaguar watched what went on inside the house and waited for a chance to make her move and approach the agent and form a possible alliance. Currently, all was dark. That was fine, Howlback was a patient enough Con.

Meanwhile, inside the house, Chrysalis stirred in her sleep and looked at the currently nude form of the white-skinned woman beside her. A fine catch in her mind, and such a lovely woman to spend the night with. Quite remarkably intelligent as well, if not a bit tightly wound. Suppose one did get a lot of pent-up stress teaching a bunch of hormonal high-schoolers.

“Yes,” Chrysalis thought with a very satisfied smile. “A lot of pent-up stress.”

Running her fingers through the Principal’s hair, she kissed her on the nape of her neck and smiled a bit as the woman moaned a little in her sleep.

Chrysalis groaned as she realized she was feeling a bit parched, and threw off the covers before pulling an old and ratty t-shirt that was much too big for Chrysalis over herself as she headed towards the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. As she did so, she flicked on a light switch that illuminated the kitchen, which just so happened to be connected to the back porch via a sliding glass door.

Outside, as Chrysalis turned on the sink and let the water fill a small glass, Howlback smiled and moved forwards, the bushes ruffling as she did so. Chrysalis’ eyes widened as she heard the sound, and on instinct went for a cupboard and pulled out a small pistol before she carefully slid open the back door and pointed her weapon at the shrubbery. Hardly an intimidating sight, but hopefully the pistol would be enough to ward off any burglar who decided it would be stupid enough to rob the house of an FBI agent.

Mind you, what she hadn’t been counting on was a midnight blue jaguar to come out of the bushes and approach her with no sense of fear. Then again, why would it, given the rather large purple symbol adorning her -if the form was any indication- side.

Chrysalis’ eyes narrowed, and the jaguar actually seemed to laugh at that.

“I’m sorry,” Howlback chuckled darkly, speaking in some high-class accent that reminded Chrysalis of that Rarity girl. “But really, what could you do to me?”

“Well, if you were a male, or a female human, I’d put a strawberry in your mouth, take you up to my room, put this gun between your ribs, and tell him to sit tight, or I'd arrest them for stalking. Then I’d do it anyways.”

“...That is really sexy,” Howlback laughed. “But relax, you’ve got nothing to fear from me.”

“Hard to believe that coming from the words of a jaguar who actually does seem to be stalking me in the dead of night, with a Decepticon symbol on their side.” Chrysalis shot back.

“Fair point, but I can prove I’m not out to get you. Go on, give Special Agent Fowler a call,” Howlback remarked, and Chrysalis gave her a strange look. “Go on, go ahead and take your time. I’m a patient enough femme.”

Chrysalis gave Howlback an understandably cautious look, but all the same, backed into her home and grabbed her cell phone all the while never taking her eyes off the Con, who was currently stretching herself.

“Fowler,” Chrysalis said into the phone, keeping it on speaker. “Sorry for the late night wake-up call, as believe me I’m really not happy to be up at this time of night either, but I’ve got a robotic jaguar with the Decepticon symbol telling me to call you and prove her innocence.”

“Oh,” Fowler commented, sounding rather pissed off. “That might explain why I’m currently staring down a robotic wolf with the Predacon symbol in my living room!”

“Oh, is that Feral Steel?” Howlback asked in a rather cheery tone, getting up off the grass. “Tell him I said hello!”

“Oh, so that’s his name?” Fowler asked, still quite furious. Whether that could be chalked up to the unexpected intrusion of the Predacon kind, or the fact that he’d been woken up this late at night was uncertain at this juncture.

“William is it?” Howlback asked politely, and in a rather delicate tone.

“I wasn’t aware we were on a first name basis, ‘Con,” Fowler growled out.

“Yes, I’m rather sorry about Feral Steel. He never was one for manners, most Predacons aren’t I’m afraid. It’s all hack and slash to them. Admittedly, a few of them have complained about this to my bosses back on Cybertron, but it does them no good when they act this… shall we say unbecoming and unwelcoming?”

“Yes indeed,” Chrysalis thought. “She certainly reminds me of that Rarity kid, along with perhaps a little bit of Fowler’s daughter thrown in as well.”

Now, a few years before, even since the “Giant winged she-demon mind control zombie incident’ for lack of a better term as the FBI called it at CHS, a few of their agents Chrysalis amongst them had been assigned to keep an eye on those kids who were involved with dealing with it. Personally, a large part of Chrysalis hated keeping tabs on teenagers like they were terrorists or something, -Perhaps a gross exaggeration of things, she admitted- but the other part of her that was loyal to the FBI told her that any potential threats must be monitored.

“Oh, so that’s what you call breaking down my door?” Fowler asked Howlback, who had to fight back and suppress a sigh. His night had started off like any other, have a beer and kick off his shoes to watch the game and try not to worry about his daughter so much before falling asleep on the couch. Of course, that sleep had been rather rudely interrupted by this wolf.

“Again, I apologize, not all Predacons are as well mannered as Sunder,” Howlback replied. “If I had known Feral Steel was going to be so… crude I wouldn’t have contacted him and instead have sent Sunder in his place so we can try and bolster relations.”

“That’s a laugh, coming from a Decepticon!” Fowler snarled. “You and your band have been trying to kill all of us ever since you crash landed on this planet!”

Howlback, and Chrysalis, of course, could understand Fowler’s wariness. He was a member of an organization trying to keep the US and now the world from falling to Onslaught’s heels. And more than that, he was a parent of a child now in Autobot hands. Granted, both Howlback and Chrysalis knew they would do everything in their power to keep humankind safe, as the Autobot creed went: “Freedom was the right of all sentient beings” but there was always that chance they could slip up. Humans were much more fragile than Cybertronians. One fired shot, one misstep, and that’d be the end of it.

“Sadly, yes, I admit that’s true. But Onslaught does not speak for all Decepticons, nor all Cybertronians for that matter.” Howlback replied, trying to defuse the situation.

“Oh, and you do?”

“Let her speak, William,” Chrysalis put in, in a warning tone. “While I highly doubt she’d set Feral on you, given her distaste for him, it would be wise for both of us to hear what she has to say.”

“Thank you,” Howlback replied, although Chrysalis shot her a warning look. It was clear, although she was willing to listen, she didn’t trust her one bit. Not that Howlback could blame her, admitting she worked for Onslaught did her no favors. Clearing her throat, the cat-bot continued. “Now, while I cannot claim to speak for all Decepticons or all Cybertronians as I’m hardly a Prime or anything close to it, I can tell you this much, I share your distaste for Onslaught. He’s a brute, and a rogue. I was sent undercover in his crew by my government to keep tabs on his doings, find out who was amongst his crew, and if possible, find out as much about them as possible and sent this information off to the proper authorities which in this situation would be Prowl and any high-ranking humans he trusted. Apparently, from what I’ve heard, you and Chrysalis here are some of them.”

“Very Special Agent Chrysalis.” the woman in question corrected. Howlback, of course, ignored her as she stared directly at the phone on the kitchen countertop.

Apparently, Howlback’s explanation caught Fowler off guard. “P-Prowl trusts me?” he stuttered out. “B-But why?”

“That I cannot know, but apparently he does if he’s willing to work with you. I’ve met him before, the man does not let others into his circle that easily. Perhaps he sees something in you I don’t, a loyalty to your government, and more accurately your species. I cannot say. Whatever the case, you would be wise to work with him, and trust him more.” Howlback replied, and out of the corner of her optics, she noticed Chrysalis was slowly beginning to lower her gun.

“I-I’ll try,” Fowler stuttered out. “But what proof do we have that we can trust you?”

“None, at the moment, I admit,” Howlback sighed. “But I will try and remedy that. For now, I’d like you and Chrysalis to have what information I’ve gathered on Onslaught and his crew so far. Vocal recordings, holotapes, and a crew manifesto. I’m somewhat aware of the fact that neither you nor the Autobots know the full list of former soldiers and various members of the criminal element that this poor excuse for a Cybertronian has with him.”

“Any information is good information…” Chrysalis sighed, as a small little vent on Howlback’s head opened up and revealed what looked to be the Cybertronian version of a flash drive.

“I have to ask,” Fowler remarked, his tone losing some of it’s edge now that Howlback had opened up and explained herself. “Why did you sent a Predacon to my house in the first place?”

“To guard you and your family of course,” Howlback answered simply as Chrysalis studied the little flash drive in her hands. “You of all people should well be well aware of how easily damaged humankind is. Granted, my choice of guard could have been better, but-”

“Say no more,” Fowler muttered, Feral Steel now having curled up in the corner of the room like a regular dog might do. “I do understand.”

“For the record Special Agent William Fowler,” Howlback replied, using his full title as a sign of respect. “On behalf of the Cybertronian race, I’m so sorry you and your family had to get caught up in this.”

For a long while, Fowler said nothing, before he answered. “...Thank you.”

With that, the call dropped. Howlback padded towards the door, and back to the shrubbery. “I suppose now I must take my leave, I’ve overstayed my welcome as it is. I have to get back to the wreck of the Darksyde, otherwise, Onslaught would get suspicious of my whereabouts. I’ve been gone far too long.”

“Wait,” Chrysalis said. “Can’t you at least tell us where this ‘Darksyde’ is? Perhaps I could get Agent Fowler to scramble up a few bombers, and-”

“Onslaught would know at once how you learned of his base’s location, and he would have your human pilots shot down before they could even do any damage. Nothing of value would be accomplished, and innocent lives would be lost. The cost would be too great, I believe it was your Joseph Stalin who once said: “A single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic.” That is not true. Every death, every life lost is a tragedy, and I intend to make sure that as many tragedies are averted as possible.”

With that, Howlback leaped off into the darkness leaving Chrysalis to think on her words.

Author's Note

Okay, so that's Howlback's proper introduction. Now, should clarify a few things. One, despite Howlback's comment, there will be no Transformer human romance. Secondly, Fowler, I'm sorry if he seems a bit antagnistic and distrusting, but you have to remember, in the early episodes of Transformers Prime he was rather much like this as well. Plus, like I said before when you add in the fact that he's now got a daughter thrown in the mix and Howlback's actions sending Feral Steel to his house, well I'd say he's go every reason to not be in a good mood.

Part 9: Speed Metal

Early that next morning on the backstreets of Canterlot, just a few hours before the sun was to rise over the sleepy town, several cars were to be found lining themselves up on a heavily forested road. Fast, expensive cars to be exact. Pagani Zondas, Nobles, Lamborghinis, I think you get the picture. From either side of the road, colorful red smoke was beginning to rise up. Both early in the morning, and late at night, street races had become a staple of Canterlot’s more privileged youth. Just kids who had nothing better to do, than throw their money away to get an adrenaline high with their fancy toys.

Of course, even in this menagerie of supercars, one did somehow manage to stick out from the rest. Might have been the fact that it was an Aston Martin, or maybe it was the paint job, a deep crimson red with bright yellow rims.

Whatever the case, as soon as ‘it’ pulled up, all heads turned to look at the car. The windows were a thick tinted color, so it was impossible to see who was driving. Whoever it was though, the driver let out a low whistle upon seeing his competition.

“Nice wheels, man. Sweet rims, as well, 17 gauge? You're reeeeeeal heavy-duty! Built for speed, I like that!” the driver commented from inside his car, eying the Zonda as he revved his engine.

“Hey, who are you anyways?” the driver of the Zonda asked. “Never saw you on the roster.”

“What, a guy can’t show up unannounced?” Knock Out asked. “Alright, you got me, I’m gate-crashing, but at least let a racer have his fun m’kay? It was a long drive to get here, and I’m going to be picking bugs out of my grill for days!”

“Ugh… fine. You’re in,” the driver grumbled. “Suppose you want my car if you win?”

“No, I’m just in it for the fun of it. Prizes don’t really matter to me, as long as I look good crossing the finish line. If you have this type of car, all op-Er, eyes are going to be on you anyways.” Knock Out replied, quickly catching himself and correcting his speech. He flashed back to a brief time on the Darksyde on it’s journey to Earth, where he had to explain himself to one of the flyers onboard about why he chose a car as his Alt-Mode.

“I’m sorry, but what’s wrong with my choice of alternate mode?” Knock Out complained to his cohort, a rather… incorrigible Decepticon known as Triggerhappy.

“Yes, right, you're one of those.” Triggerhappy grumbled, shaking his dark blue head, and running a hand down his dark crimson faceplates. Knock Out gave him a look.

“Come again?” the Stunticon asked, raising an eye-brow, and crossing his arms. He sighed inwardly, he knew of Triggerhappy’s reputation. He was a nut-ball, you used to get them in the Decepticon ranks from time to time. Apparently, if it was to be believed, it all stemmed from an incident in boot camp, where he was practicing firing while surfing on his hoverboard but apparently fell off and hit his head and suffered cranial processor damage in the fall. What did happen though, was he remained firing all the while and ended up shooting and disintegrating half-a-dozen other fellow Decepticons. Apparently, the camp commander was so impressed, he graduated Triggerhappy on the spot. Nobody else had figured out why this was a good idea, or figured out why it was an even better idea to actually arm the Con with his twin rifles.

“Honestly,” Triggerhappy proclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration, as a green coated Decepticon with a body-type similar to Shockwave passed them by, watching and shaking his head in bewilderment. “I never understood why any self-respecting Decepticon would choose an 'automobile' as his vehicle mode when he could have flight!”

“I like the way I look in steel-belted radials,” Knock Out replied simply. “I'm not only an automobile; I'm an automobile enthusiast, comes with the territory you know. Hello? Stunticon here!” he exclaimed, pointing to his brand mark on his chest. It was a normal Decepticon symbol, but with a hazard mark behind that making it resemble those markings you would often find on crash test dummies. Fitting really, give half of the team’s driving styles with no regard for the rules of the road. Knock Out liked to consider himself more refined than that, he really preferred his paint job unscratched thank you very much.

While the rest of the Stunticons had spent their life on Cybertron working away their crimes during the Great War in community service putting on stunt shows, Knock Out had never actually participated in the fighting and had no such troubles. Actually, for most of the war, he’d been a medic helping others on both sides and continued as such after the war ended. It was only after it had been ‘discovered’ that he’d been doing some rather unethical experiments on others did he fall in with Onslaught’s lot. So there he was, on a stolen ship bound for another planet fleeing from the Autobot brigade led by Prowl who’d been sent after him. His only comfort was that his sparkmate (Or Conjunx Endura as it was known) was onboard the ship was well and that the planet was known to have an advanced enough civilization that built cars.

“Right…” Triggerhappy muttered to himself, before walking off to his quarters still shaking his head. Knock Out huffed, rumors were probably true that he’d been dropped on his head, if he didn’t understand the fundamentals of looking quite fine and the feel of rubber against the open road.

But none of that really mattered now, as right now, the flags went down, and every car on the starting line sped off into the early morning light, tires squealing and engines roaring. Knock Out smiled as he switched to a local radio station, this was where he belonged.

“One foot on the brake and one on the gas, hey!
Well, there's too much traffic, I can't pass, no!
So I tried my best illegal move
Well, baby, black and white come and touched my groove again!

“Gonna write me up a 125
Post my face wanted dead or alive
Take my license, all that jive
I can't drive 55! Oh No!”

Crystal Prep:

Of course, as soon as school let out that next day, the Shadowbolts set off for their favorite meeting place, the skatepark in the middle of Canterlot.

As they walked down the steps from the Crystal Prep Academy, Sunny was soon greeted by a pure black husky-like dog (With a hint of wolf in him if you looked closely enough) bounding towards her as Twilight and Trixie walked up. Sunder, in his guitar form, was slung over Trixie’s back in a case while Twilight, as ever, had books under her arm.

“Girl, do you not ever have any books on you?” Indigo asked.

“Believe me, Trixie’s been asking the same thing ever since we started dating…” Trixie muttered to herself but wilted under Twilight’s glare. Lemon laughed quietly to herself and mimed cracking a whip.

Sugarcoat sighed to herself. Must her friend be so… crude? “So, what’s wrong with a few books?” she asked. “Might do you some good to start reading Indigo, would help you raise your grades.” Sugarcoat sniffed.

“Ooh, burn!” Lemon laughed, mimicking a small hissing noise. “Need some ice for that?”

“...I’ve been betrayed by my own best friend.” Indigo sighed, hanging her head.

“She’s got a point you know,” Twilight put in. “I mean, I could easily help you find something in a book that would help you with soccer, help you calculate the best angle for kicking the ball in a net,”

“No offense Twilight, but I’d rather figure out how to kick the ball in the net for myself, than learn from someone who’s probably never played a game in her life,” Indigo commented, crossing her arms.

“F-for your information, I did play a game of soccer!” Twilight sputtered out. Behind them, and going unnoticed by anyone was Knock Out in vehicle mode pulling up around a curb. “It was only one game mind you, but I did respectively well.”

“Funny, that’s not how Trixie remembers things,” the showmare teased. “I seem to remember Rainbow actually kicking your ass! Quite badly, I might add.”

As Twilight let out a small moan, and Indigo patted her on the back in sympathy, Knock Out sighed. Human teenagers, honestly he never quite exactly saw the reasoning behind Steeljaw, the big brute, ruling them an actual threat. “Then again,” he mused, as he looked at the guitar slung around Trixie’s back and the husky dog near Sunny’s side. “Maybe he’s onto something, if those Predacons deem them worthy of their protection.”

He wasn’t stupid, hologram or not, Feral couldn’t hide his distinctive life signatures from him. Deep down, underneath all that advanced stealth tech fitted onto him beat the Spark of a Predacon.

“Hey Sunny, I have to ask,” Trixie inquired curiously. “What’s with the dog?”

“Er, that’s the interesting thing,” Sunny Flare replied as she led her friends out of earshot of her fellow students. “He’s not a dog. Just happens to look like one.”

“Wait, you’re not saying he’s a…?” Sugarcoat asked, and seemingly in confirmation, Sunder beeped out a small yes.

“Apparently, last night, my dad had a visit from him, and so he decided to have Feral here,” Sunny continued, stroking the Predacon’s head. “Keep an eye on me. Normally I’d be mad, but-”

“But why not?” Trixie asked. “I thought you hated your dad being all overprotective of you and stuff!”

“Yes, but I decided to take a page out of Sugarcoat’s book as it were,” Sunny replied, as said girl beamed in pride at her friend. “And look at things logically. Most of the Autobots’s vehicle modes would… stand out as it were, and Road Rage can’t keep an eye on us because of her ‘condition’ so Feral here, who can make himself look like a regular dog and Sunder with his Guitar alt mode are the best choices,” Sunny continued with her friends following along with every word. “Unless more Autobots arrive on Earth, and get vehicle modes nobody would question, we’re stuck with these two for the time being. ...No offense.” she quickly told Feral and Sunder.

“Ah, I see. Makes sense,” Trixie agreed before she raised a finger. “On Autobots though, remind me to have them make alterations to our uniforms as it were. I don't care what Perceptor says, that armor chafes to no end!”

“Better uncomfortable, than dead,” Sugarcoat pointed out. “Besides, if what Perceptor is saying is true, and Lemon, you’re going to like this, that armor will help us help them in their battles.”

“How so?” Lemon asked, getting excited. And a little too close to Sugarcoat’s face for her own personal comfort.

“He didn’t say much on that part, except it was just a working theory at the moment.” Sugarcoat replied as she pushed Lemon away gently.

“Hey, a question?” Twilight asked as the group began walking to the local bus stop. “Perceptor did leave me some awfully cryptic clues when we last talked. Quoted a bit of Ronald Reagan, actually.”

“What made you think they were clues?” Indigo asked.

“The exact quotes he used,” Twilight replied, as a bus pulled up and the girls stepped inside with Feral following. If the driver took notice of him, he didn’t comment on him. Might have figured he was a service dog or something. “The first one was: “The most terrifying words in the English language are: I'm from the government and I'm here to help.” Exact quote.” she said.

“Anything else?” Sugarcoat asked curiously. “Hey, between one consistent Grade-A scoring student to another, maybe we can figure something out together.” she offered.

“Yes, he did mention that he seemed to be uncovering that at least some of the Decepticons onboard Onslaught’s ship weren’t as guilty as they were originally thought to be, from what he was beginning to figure out. Nothing concrete yet, but…” Twilight commented, before a thought occurred to her. “Hey, you don’t think…?”

“Yes, I do,” Sugarcoat replied. “That some higher up in his government wanted certain members of Onslaught’s crew to seem like criminals. Perceptor didn’t quote Richard Nixon at any point, did he by any chance?”

Twilight laughed a little at the historical reference, but shook her head. “No, he didn’t. Though if his theories are correct, along with ours, a certain quote from him would fit wouldn’t it?”

“Ugh, politics…” Lemon muttered. “The second oldest profession in the world, you want to know what it is? It’s the politician. On the outside, it's nothing really all that particularly special. You go out and help with managing your community and start pushing your agenda, whatever that may be. But once you really, and I mean really get into it, it's probably not that much different than the world's oldest profession.” she grumbled.

Trixie had to snigger at that, and even Twilight and Sugarcoat did as well despite usually not liking Lemon’s sense of humor. “She’s got a point, doesn’t she?” Trixie remarked. “When the girl’s right, she’s right.” she begrudgingly admitted.

Lemon smirked, and put in her earbuds before tuning her phone to Xiraia’s radio show.

“Hello all of you girls and guys out there, so nice to know you’re all listening. Now, picking up from last week, we’re continuing speculation on the strange set of meteors that came down outside Canterlot over two months ago. Now, could be nothing… But if you believe that, why the Hell are you listenin’ to me? Go and pretend you’re safe in your home, and lizard aliens haven’t landed in your own backyard and replaced Canterlot’s higher-ups!

“Anyways, for those of you not in the know, not too long ago, some scientists at the Canterlot Observatory, they sighted two strange meteors coming down right outside the city. One impacted in the canyons outside the town, while the other crash-landed in the mountains. I say crash landed, because despite all of head scientist Night Light’s comments that they are not spacecraft, I know better. Seriously, what else could they be? Asteroids?”

Here, Xiraia broke out into a sharp laugh. Lemon motioned for her friends to come over and put an earbud in Sunny Flare’s ear.

“You don’t think…?” Lemon asked.

“Oh, I more than think. We have to tell Prowl and the rest, we might just know the location of the Decepticon base!” Sunny said firmly, before bringing up her wrist and pulling back her sleeve revealing a small wrist mounted terminal. A gift, from Perceptor, to the girls. Apparently, someone at the Autobot base had a sense of humor, and had played Fallout. Sunny would just never have imagined it to be Perceptor of all Bots. Each of the group had one, part of their armor. Quickly, she typed in these words: “Have important info relating to Cons. Tell you later!”

With that, she quickly pulled her sleeve back forwards before anyone could notice. What none of them had seen, however, was Knock Out, still in vehicle mode, tailing them. He’d make his move eventually of course, but not for the time being. However, had he known what Sunny had just figured out, he probably would have been of a different mindset…

Eventually, Knock Out broke off the tail before anyone got suspicious. Anyone of course, being one of the girls or their Predacon protectors. Honestly, he still didn’t quite understand it. Predacons catered to no master, so why would two go to Onslaught’s side, especially when he had the known Predacon Hunters Steeljaw and Flamewar on his side?

Then again, maybe that giant oaf Darksteel and that shiny loving Corvicon Filch were afraid of Onslaught and his power. As he opened up a groundbridge back to base, Knock Out dismissed that thought as soon as it came.

It was ridiculous really, he’d heard rumors of Predaking’s power, and as powerful and cunning as the leader of the Combaticons was, even Onslaught was no match for the self-proclaimed King of Beasts. A title, which Knock Out swore was definitely deserved, considering he’d heard that Predaking had managed to keep up with the legendary Autobot leader Optimus Prime himself.

“Then again,” Knock Out thought as his wheels hit solid metal floor and he quickly transformed to robot mode. “There is that ‘ability’ of Onslaught’s.”

An image flashed through his mind. No, a memory of back in the Great War. It was of a massive goliath of a robot with a frighteningly red crimson visor, whirling blades on one arm and a powerful flamethrower burning Decepticon and Autobot alike to a crisp.

He shuddered at the thought and tried to clear the images from his mind. That was a sight he hoped he never saw again in his lifetime. Combiners, they were a mad experiment of Shockwave’s, beginning with the Constructicons and just getting wilder from there. He’d even heard rumors Shockwave had been planning to clone Predacons that could form a gestalt known only as Abominus before the mad scientist was put down by a combined Autobot/Decepticon team, with Megatron himself personally blasting a hole in Shockwave’s chest after his ambition finally went too far.

Swallowing nervously, Knock Out waited for the doors that led to Onslaught’s personal chambers to open. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally opened to reveal an office, with a massive dark blue Decepticon with a red visor and two cannons resting on his back sitting behind a desk drawing up what looked to be battle plans on a datapad.

“So, am I correct?” Onslaught asked, as Knock Out bowed and forced himself to look anywhere but Onslaught’s optics, which he swore could peer into your very Spark chamber. His head was tilted upwards, and he soon found himself looking right at the Combaticon commander.

“Yes… Yes, you’re quite correct, the Predacons are indeed protecting those human girls as Steeljaw theorized.” Knock Out replied nervously, and if Onslaught was capable of smirking he would have.

Part 10: Moments of Reflection

Author's Note

Again, huge thanks to Shadowmane for co-writing the second half of this chapter with me.

Part 10: Moments of Reflection

“So, the Big Boss go and chew you out for not capturing those kids and the Predacons when you had the chance?” a very bored sounding tone commented from behind Knock Out, as he looked up from his workstation in the medical bay. Knock Out sighed to himself, just what he needed today. “Or worst still, scratch your finish?”

“You have any legitimate reason to come bother me today, or are you just going out of your way your way to be annoying, Steeljaw?” Knock Out drawled. “Because, if it’s the latter, you can kindly go and just bugger on off,”

“Just wanted to talk, wanted Con to wanted Con, that’s all,” the massive aqua Transformer replied in return, absentmindedly filing away at his claws. “Is that not an acceptable excuse?”

“Unlike you, Steeljaw,” Knock Out replied in a rather flat tone of voice, “I’ve only been framed for my crimes. You on the other hand, are a known serial killer. How many is it reckoned you’ve killed? 13? You’re pretty much the Cybertronian version of what the humans call the Night Stalker, only without the raping your victims part,”

“Yes, that is a bit classless,” Steeljaw admitted, and Knock Out blanched and stared directly at the madman. Steeljaw rolled his optics. “What? Don’t give me that look, even I have standards!”

“Doesn’t get you past that fact that you’re all too happy to kill someone even if they look at you the wrong way…” Knock Out muttered, flinching a little when he felt Steeljaw’s hands on his shoulder.

“I’m not a maniac,” Steeljaw reassured. “Those bots, they got what they had coming to them,” Steeljaw continued, and Knock Out gave him a disgusted look. However, had he been bothering to listen even closer, his audio receptors might have picked up Steeljaw mumbling: “At least, that’s what I thought at the time...”

“Keep making up excuses all you want, doesn’t change the fact that me, along with every other Con on this ship aside from the Boss and Flamewar are frightened enough of you to leak lubricant every time you even pass by,”

“Can we please kindly not mention that bitch? She makes even me look tasteful. Hell, she makes even Pharma look tasteful for crying out loud!” Steeljaw growled out.

“H-How do you know about Pharma?” Knock Out stuttered out in shock.

“I’m not as stupid as the United Cybertronian Government, for one,” Steeljaw remarked. “For the record, I’m truly sorry for what happened to you, got completely railroaded. You had a good thing going, patching up both bot and con alike until… Well, you know.”

“Yeah, I do…” Knock Out sighed sadly.

“How’s that old Earth saying go?” Steeljaw asked himself. “Oh yes, now I remember. We feel free when we escape—even if it be but from the frying pan into the fire,”

“Suppose you’re going to say, well into the fire then next right?” Knock Out asked.

“Look, not out to get you. Trust me, if I was, you’d be dead on the floor in a pool of your own Energon already. I’d have sliced you to ribbons before you could blink. You know what they say about the best criminals? The police, they only know about the guys who get caught. The best ones, they never do,”

“What does that make us then?” Knock Out asked with a bitter sounding laugh.

“What else, but the second best?” Steeljaw replied, and Knock Out laughed again.

“That’s quite true. Honestly, if I had a choice, I’d prefer Earth over Cybertron. Has this certain… Oh, I don’t know. What’s the phrase I’m looking for here?”

“Je ne sais quoi?” Steeljaw answered.

“Yes, that!” Knock Out replied, snapping his fingers in recognition. “Can’t quite put my finger on what exactly, but Earth, has this certain charm about it,”

“It’s the automobiles, isn’t it?” Steeljaw asked flatly. “Believe me, I’ve taken notice of your interest. ...So has everyone else on the ship actually. Triggerhappy, Primus rest his spark, made a-

“Remark about it? Yes, I noticed,” Knock Out replied flatly. “Mind you, I’m hardly mourning a nutball who’d shoot at anything that moves,” he deadpanned. “Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got to get back to my work,” Knock Out continued, gesturing to his operating table where a massive winged dark blue and yellow toned Predacon in his robot form -Darksteel to be exact- lay in a medically induced stasis lock. Knock Out wasn’t quite sure about what happened to him, though he had a feeling the electro-shock collar around his neck had something to do with it, the damned thing. Onslaught had thought it fit to place them around some of the more untrustworthy crewmembers just in case they got too out of hand. Steeljaw, Knock Out noted bore one as well.

“Oh yes, I apologize,” Steeljaw sighed, in a tone of sympathy towards Darksteel. “Even if I don’t like that dumb brute, even he doesn’t-”

“Go, now. I don’t like to be interrupted.” Knock Out said firmly, and Steeljaw took the hint and left the room. Knock Out sighed to himself, he perhaps would be forced to reevaluate his opinions on the Decepticon sometime soon. Perhaps. The sounds of feet hitting metal flooring filled his audio receptors, and the door opened once more. “Whoever it is, can’t you go away? Can’t you see I’m busy?” he asked, annoyed.

“What, too busy for even me?” a familiar, deep baritone voice asked. Knock Out smiled slightly, and turned to see a very familiar bone-white Stunticon, with a red face and yellow optics.

“Thought you didn’t like to come into my lab, the sight of another Con’s energon is… well, thought you saw it as more than a little bit eww shall we say?” Knock Out asked.

“Call it, concern. Or paranoia,” Breakdown replied. “Both can go hand in hand really,”

“That’s true, I suppose,” Knock Out admitted, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Saw Steeljaw entering your lab, and smiling as he left. With a Mech like him aboard, can you blame me for checking up on you to make sure you hadn’t been ripped from chassis to spark casing?”

“You would have felt it, as much as I appreciate the concern,” Knock Out replied, placing a hand on Breakdown’s torso plating. “We’re bonded, remember? If I go offline, you’d know.”

“Yeah, I would…” Breakdown admitted, hanging his head. “Can’t fault me for concern though, you know right?”

He was met with a kiss on the forehead.

“And I love you for that, but you know perfectly well I can handle myself, right?” Knock Out then asked, switching one of his hands out for a buzz saw for just a few seconds to make his point.

“Even if it means getting your precious paint job dinged up in the process, or worse?” Breakdown teased.

“Yes, even if it means my paint job gets damaged, Primus forbid,” Knock Out replied with a small shudder. “But Steeljaw, dangerous as he is, I can handle him. Oh, you and your worry, endearing as it is, is going to drive me insane one of these cycles. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a drink at Maccadam's Old Oil House right now. Makes that exceptionally pure oil…” Knock Out added wistfully.

“You remember the rumors right?” Breakdown asked curiously.

“Oh, the ones about Maccadam being one of the original Thirteen in disguise? Alchemist Prime, was it?” Knock Out replied with a small laugh. “Yes, I’ve heard. I swear, Cybertronians will think up the wildest things at times. If Maccadam was indeed one of the original Thirteen, I suspect he would have put a stop to the Great War all those ages ago with all of his wisdom,” Knock Out trailed off.

“Well, rumor has it that both Optimus Prime and Megatron met in the Oil House to create their treaty…” Breakdown trailed off.

“Bah!” Knock Out scoffed. “Bots have too much time on their hands if you ask me, if they’re thinking up ludicrous rumors that one of the members of the Thirteen is hanging out in a bar! I’d love to know who started that anyways,” he muttered to himself as he went for a tube to pump energon into Darksteel’s currently inert form. The former physician sighed to himself. “He’ll have to be kept on life support for a bit now, Onslaught was really displeased with his failure to capture those Autobots sent after him…”

“Yes, well, our dear leader has quite the temper,” Breakdown replied. “Likes to try and hide it, and for the most part he does it quite well, but where do you think Bruticus’s rage comes from whenever he was formed? Cold, calculating he may be, and quite the planner, but when all goes wrong, Primus only knows what’ll happen,” Breakdown shuddered. “And to think, we share the same ship with him!”

“Hey, we share the same ship with our comrade Dead End, amongst a bunch of other nutballs, Need I get started on Swindle or Brawl?”

“Point taken,” Breakdown admitted. “All we gotta do is stay out of Onslaught’s way, and our sparks are intact. Still, on Dead End, there may come a day when he’s not our partner anymore.”

“What, you thinking of leaving the Stunticons? Striking out on your own like I did?” Knock Out asked.

“Well, it’s a tempting thought. Personally, I want no part of this insanity,” Breakdown admitted.

“And yet you tried to run down that human girl,” Knock Out pointed out.

“Just wanted to give her a little scare, that’s all,” Breakdown replied. “In hindsight, had I known it would cause us so much trouble in the long run, I would have said, screw it, and just let her be! But back to Dead End. Just try and be nicer to him, okay? Er… for me? His mental state, he didn’t ask to turn out to be a Fatalist,”

“Sorry,” Knock Out apologized. “Just his constant rumblings about how everything is pointless as we’re eventually going to join the big scrap heap in the sky sometime soon, probably within the next few cycles or so, it annoys me to no end, that’s all. Did you know his happy place is an abandoned car wash of all places? And that the reason he polishes his vehicle mode and washes himself is so that he looks his best when Armageddon strikes and Unicron rises from his grave to kill all?” the Decepticon Doctor ranted.

“Well, he’s got a point there,” Breakdown remarked. “Nothing wrong with looking good, you of all bots should be able to sympathize with that right?”

“...Why is it you always end up winning our little marital spats?” Knock Out sighed, his shoulders slumping to the side. Breakdown patted him on the shoulder sympathetically, offering no answer. “Actually, going back to Maccadam’s, I think it was Spacewarp of all Cons who started the rumor.”

“Spacewarp, Spacewarp…” Breakdown mused. “Can’t say I remember the name, except for a few remarks about an interstellar explorer with a rather arrogant personality,”

“That’d be her,” Knock Out confirmed, snapping his fingers one more in recognition before he continued work on Darksteel’s beaten frame. As he did so, he continued speaking. “Heard this rumor, she went a planet called Equus or something like that a few years back in human time, and took this parrot creature under her wing, and since then they’ve been exploring the galaxy and it’s many wonders. Least what I heard, don’t quote me on that,”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Breakdown replied with a small smile. Knock Out shoved him away with a small, slight push.

“Now off with you, got serious body work to do here, and I can’t be disturbed!” Knock Out barked, and Breakdown nodded, saying nothing and walked right out leaving his husband to his work. Then, another bot walked in, tan in color and with dark purple optics.

“Hey Knock Out, I can sell you a better buffing brush, if you just trade me that buzzsaw implement of yours! Promise, I can make Onslaught look the other way...” Swindle chimed in. At this, Knock Out’s temper finally blew.

“OH FOR PRIMUS’S SAKE! HOW HARD IS IT FOR A CON TO GET WORK DONE AROUND HERE WITHOUT SOME SORT OF DISTURBANCE!?!”

Back at the Autobase, life continued as normal. Well, normal as it got for this rag-tag bunch of misfits anyways. Trixie, as she and Lemon played a video game on a TV nearby, watched in interest as Swerve and Hound argued over… something.

“No, I’m sorry, but that is the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard. I mean, seriously? You saw Prowl, in his office, singing or at least humming the theme from some old cop show drama?” Hound asked in disbelief, the Willys Jeep alt-moded Autobot shaking his head.

“Trust me, Hound. The jazz music he was playing commonly denotes a cop show,” Swerve lifted a finger. “And besides, how many TV shows have you seen where cops fight crime without the jazz music following them?”

“Fair point,” Hound admitted. “But you don’t have to be such a pain in the aft about it…”

“I’m not a pain in the aft. Am I?” He asked. “Or at least, have I been before this little dispute?”

“Let me ask every Autobot on the base, they’ll probably give me an answer,” Hound deadpanned.

“There is no need for that,” Sugarcoat walked up to both of the Bots. “Swerve was just delivering the honest truth. It’s highly illogical to argue with him on those factors. Though I will admit, the fact that such a battle-hungry Bot like Prowl would be singing something like that boggles the mind…”

“Great, she’s gone all Shockwave on us,” Hound muttered.

“Never a boring day…” Trixie mused to herself. Nearby, Sunder bleeped out something in agreement.

“See? She’s right!” Swerve put his hands on his hips. “So there’s no need for this hostility.”

Hound rolled his optics, before walking off, datapad in hand. Trixie hopped off from the couch, and walked over.

“Swerve, have to ask, what exactly do you do around here, aside from cracking jokes and delivering the latest gossip?”

“Training to fight on the field, along with a bit of metallurgy.” He nodded, only for his gun to start laughing to itself. “What?! It’s true!”

“Swerve, you couldn’t even hit one of your friends if you tried to,” said his gun, which was a stark white and resembled a little jet in some ways. “That’s why you have me, to say whether or not your shots hit anything at all.”

“T-Thank you Phaser!” Swerve stammered out. “Embarrass me in public, why don’t you! Sure, tell them all about my horrible aim that makes Misfire look good!”

“I thought the other bots would have taken notice by now,” Phaser sighed. “Maybe they need to take a look at their trainees more often,”

“They do, they just don’t have a lot of time on their hands right now to train me up proper, what with Onslaught’s little foray to Earth and all,” Swerve remarked. “Not to mention Road Rage’s… condition shall we say,” Swerve replied, making a point of being delicate about it.

“Speaking of which, Sugar, have Twilight and Perceptor managed to find a cure yet?” Lemon asked. “I’m starting to get worried about her…”

“Is it because she turns into a hot rod, or is it because you care for her?” Swerve asked. “Either way, they’re not making much progress, between the fact that this is a totally new thing to them, and trying to figure out who on Onslaught’s crew manifest is a criminal, and who isn’t,”

Sugarcoat gruffly crossed her arms. “If Principal Cinch were her, she would tell all of you to stop thinking those thoughts and focus on the task at hand,” She turned back to Lemon Zest, who had actually posed the question and was pending an answer. “But so far, we still aren’t making any progress. This is a very complex virus we’re dealing with,”

“Righhhtttt. And she’s such a great role model, Cinch,” Lemon drawled.

“She was our only role model before Cadence came in,” Sugarcoat rolled her eyes. “I know she was evil to the core, but we had to make do; especially if CPA made people into professionals ready for the world ahead.”

“Stripping us of our emotions and our freedom in the process,” Lemon deadpanned.

“How many times did you and Indigo try to prank and rebel before she shut you both down?” Sugarcoat asked. “I think my point stands firm, and that you were much too childish back in those days.”

“Not all of us have the capability to actually think like machines,” Lemon deadpanned, before remembering who was in the room. “...No offense, Swerve.”

The Autobot just waved her off dismissively.

“I swear, one of those days, I’m gonna have to punch Lemon Zest in the face…” Sugarcoat’s eye twitched.

“Heard that, and looking forward to the day you try! I’m a black belt, y’know!” Lemon chimed in before making some kung fu noises like she was Jackie Chan or someone.

“Some bunch of friends you are…” Swerve muttered.

“Girls! Stop it!” Hound barked, going into full drill sergeant mode and grabbed both Sugar and Lemon by the scruffs of their necks. “We’re supposed to save the world, not fight like babies,” He glared at both of them. “Now you can both behave, or we’ll just have to send you back to pre-school where you belong right about now. I bet Perceptor can come up with a weapon that’ll de-age you just for the purpose!”

“Yes, Sergeant Hound…” Both of the girls groaned and obeyed, being let down in the process.

“Good. Now get to work, or go have fun or whatever your human kids do,” He grumbled, rubbing his temples. “I swear, going to drive me into a migraine one of these days, mark my words. Teenagers. Like handling Sparklings at times. And I thought Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were bad enough…”

“They’re still devoted to the mission, and that’s why Nova Prime finds good work for them,” Swerve nodded.

“True enough. Now if only all our problems could be solved so easily,” he sighed sadly, looking down towards Feral Steel, who’d dropped his hologram and was walking about the base in his wolf mode, the spines on his back making him look particularly intimidating though anyone who ever met him knew this wasn’t the case and he’d hardly hurt a fly. “Shame about him. Damn shame,” Hound sighed.

“What happened to him?” Trixie asked, curiously.

“It’s a sad story really, burnt out his T-Cog from too much use of it,” Swerve sighed. “Least, what I heard. Reminds me of what happened to Tarn, now that I think of it. Mind you, that bastard at least deserved it,” he grumbled.

“Well, can’t you just repair it?” Trixie asked.

“Sadly, a Transformation Cog isn’t technology as you might think,” Hound put in. “It’s biology, in fact. It’s like one of your organs, you’d have to ask someone to donate another. As you can imagine, most Cybertronians aren’t exactly lining up to do such a thing,” he remarked with a bitter laugh.

“So, it’s kinda like your heart?” Trixie raised a brow. “And if it’s gone, then you’re gone too?”

“Well, it’s not that important. We can still function without a T-Cog, we just can’t transform,” Swerve replied. “And considering how important and ingrained transformation is in our culture…”

“It’s like you’ve completely been stripped of who you are… that’s sad.” Trixie’s face fell at the sound. “How can you live without the power to transform?”

“You’d be surprised, some parts of counterculture have sprouted up here and there,” Hound put in. “Like the hippie movement of your sixties, only with a different philosophy. They say we’ve become too reliant on our T-Cogs, and purposefully burn them out with all sorts of drugs,”

“How does that work?!” Trixie’s eyes shrunk down to pinpricks.

“Well, take a drug like Nuke. It’s really addictive, and basically makes you become a mindless beast. Tarn, leader of the infamous Decepticon Justice Division was quite fond of it, and overused it to the point, where as Swerve mentioned, burnt out his T-Cog,” Hound explained. “Doubt that’s what’s going on with these countercultures, just citing an example,” he rapidly explained, at Trixie’s expression.

“Jesus Christ…” Trixie muttered. “Reminds me of Bane and his Venom addiction from the way you describe it,” she remarked.

“One way of comparing it, I suppose,” Hound admitted. “If you want, I’d be happy to give you a full lesson on Autobot biology,”

“Sure I won’t fall asleep during the lesson?” Trixie asked. “Cause I’m not exactly the world’s best student,” she admitted, with a tinge of shame in her tone. “Quite possibly why I was held back a grade,”

She was suddenly brought into a deep hug by her girlfriend.

“Hey, that’s why I’m around isn’t it?” Twilight asked softly, as Trixie blushed at such a public display of affection. “Here to give you a helping hand or two,”

“And Trixie thanks you for that…” Trixie sighed, nibbling Twilight’s neck making her let out a small moan of pleasure in spite of herself. This time Twilight was the one blushing from the public display.

“Oh, go get a room already, why don’t you?” Lemon joked.

“You’re still here?” Hound tilted his head.

“Sorry, just really interested in your little tale about Transformer Biology,” Lemon admitted. “And then the show happening in front of my eyes,” she teased, and both Trixie and Twilight let out little eeps and blushed bright red.

“Lemon... I’ll even get Wheeljack to come right down from Cybertron itself if I have to and have him help make that de-ager if you keep teasing like this,” Hound grumbled, as he gritted his robotic teeth.

“Geez,” Lemon sighed. “I was only making a joke. Lighten up will you?”

“A joke isn’t funny if it’s embarrassing and humiliating,” Hound huffed and pointed his blaster. “Now, move along,”

“Aww, leave the girl alone, Hound,” Chrysalis’s distinctive voice remarked, as she exited the elevator that led into the base. “Sorry, just thought I’d drop by. Was I gate-crashing anything interesting?”

“Just me telling Lemon and Sugarcoat to calm down, before we invent age-regression with them as the guinea pigs,” Hound went towards Chrysalis. “Why do kids fight like this?”

“Oh come on, surely you were a kid once, even as old as you are?” Chrysalis asked. “Besides, as cute as kids are—and I bet baby Lemon and baby Sugarcoat would be adorable, it’s a bit extreme, innit?”

“We never had a childhood,” Hound shook his head. “We were just… built, and that was that.”

“Funny that, I talked to a friend of mine, and she told me you had childhoods like anybody else. Well, sparklinghoods, but you get the point,” Chrysalis answered. Hound raised an eyebrow at the mention of this ‘friend’ but thought nothing more of it.

“Yeah, Hound was just born like this I imagine. Grumpy as the Pit,” Swerve teased. “No wonder him and Prowl get along so well,”

All of a sudden, alarms cut out through the base, as the crimson alarm klaxons started to flash. Everyone jumped at the noise and the Autobots charged in for their orders, leaving the humans chasing after.

Prowl was already in the main command room, and brought up a satellite feed. “Okay, space station Argo, built by the Japanese, just spotted this. Keeping things quiet for now, but don’t know how long we have till the news breaks. Fowler’s keepings things hush for now, but we probably don’t have long.”

On the screen, was a bunch of Vehicons breaking into a Japanese power plant, with a black Decepticon, feminine in form leading them, flames painted on her torso. Nearby, a massive midnight blue crow-like Robot observed the situation.

“Flamewar…” Hound sighed. “Should have known she’d be tagging along for the ride. Odd though, she hates Predacons, so why is she teamed up with Filch?”

“Maybe she’s controlling Filch,” Twilight looked closer at the screen, watching as the bird Predacon did barely anything. Just observed. “Sure, she might hate them, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t want to make them obey her, right?”

“Yes,” Prowl confirmed. “Twilight’s right. Having a Predacon on your side, a good source of back-up. Either way, we can’t let them get away with any of that energy, they’d easily be able to convert it into Energon. Autobots, Transform and Roll Out!” he shouted, as he turned into his Police Car mode, and headed for the groundbridge.

The others followed behind him, as Prowl seemed to look at Swerve. “Swerve, keep an eye on the kids. Till we know the suits are fully functional, don’t let them out of your sight okay?”

“On it, boss!” Swerve saluted. Little did he notice Lemon, as everyone’s back was turned or transforming to vehicle mode, slip by...

Part 11: Moth to Flame

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Part 12: Burnin' For You

Back at the Autobase, Perceptor was just re-emerging from his personal quarters after a long recharge cycle. He’d been working day and night to find a solution to Road Rage’s… predicament for lack of a better term, with very little success.

With a distinct hissing sound, the doors to the Autobase’s medical wing opened, and Perceptor stepped into the room, datapad in hand amongst about probably a million other things.

“Primus, Perceptor, heard you were one busy bot, but never knew it was this bad…” Road Rage asked in a concerned tone of voice, switching off the local fifties throwback radio station headed up by a girl known as ‘Pinkie Pie’. Strange name, but then again she was named Road Rage so really, who was she to judge? Song had been playing, mentioned something about blue suede shoes. Very suave singer, really. “Sure you’re not making a mistake throwing yourself into your work this much?”

Perceptor let out a little yelp, and dropped everything he was holding, scrambling to pick it back up with Road Rage giving him a hand.

“I’ve only made one mistake in my entire life,” Perceptor responded as he looked up from his things and towards Road Rage, with an edge of warning in his tone. “Once, you hear? I don’t intend to make that same mistake again. Not ever.”

Road Rage wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about and figured it probably best not to ask, but put a comforting hand on his shoulder anyway. “Whatever your mistake was, I’m sure you’ll correct it. Nobody’s perfect,” she replied in a soft tone of voice. “We all do things in life we regret. But if we don't learn from them, and move towards a brighter future, we pay twice,” she told him, voice still soft but gaze quite firm.

“Easy for you to say…” Perceptor muttered quietly to himself before he regained his composure and began holding up an odd little device Road Rage suspected he’d probably built himself, as she felt every inch of her body being scanned. “So, how do you feel?”

“The usual, like scrap really,” Road Rage replied dryly.

“Yes, I suspected as much, but anything out of the ordinary, anything you can really describe to me that might help me give me a clue as to how to work on this virus of yours?” Perceptor asked gently, and Road Rage was honestly surprised by his bedside manner. Normally, he was supposed to be this cold, unfeeling bot focused only on his work. She supposed, spending time around humanity and spending time around her had made him open up a bit more, act more like a normal Cybertronian really.

“I… I don’t know how to describe it, except maybe as this burning sensation wanting to eat me up inside, tear away every fiber of my being. For the most part, it’s fairly tame, like a little prick at the back of your neck, but every now and again it flares up like an inferno and I feel like I’ve had this red-hot poker stuck into me, and I just want to scream, tear things up like some sort of monster,” Road Rage whispered, every inch of her voice dripping with sheer terror. “Like… like some sort of instrument of destruction,”

“I see,” Perceptor replied, using his scope mounted on his shoulders to look inside Road Rage’s body, past her armor plating, and to her body frame structure and see all of her inner workings, cogs and gears turning and her spark beating and pulsating, albeit at a slightly faster rate than was normal for any Cybertronian. More symptoms of the virus, he supposed.

“Success is a lousy teacher. It seduces smart people into thinking they can't lose,” Perceptor muttered, as he continued looking over Road Rage’s vitals.

“Surprisingly grim, coming from you,” she noted.

“Yeah, quote I heard once. Made by a human named Bill Gates, smart man really. For a human,” Perceptor remarked, before clarifying. “What I mean is, keep on being successful, you get arrogant, and you believe you’re on top of the world, nothing can go wrong for you. When in fact, one simple mistake can shatter everything you ever knew, and send your whole life as you knew it crashing down,”

“Listen, whatever you did, I’m sure you can correct it. Wasn’t your mentor Wheeljack, who said, ‘I barely ever make mistakes, but when I do, I correct them?” So, shouldn’t you be listening to his advice?” Road Rage asked.

“Depends on how big the mistake is,” Perceptor muttered in reply.

“So, just means you have to work harder to correct it right?” Road Rage asked.

“You’re surprisingly insightful today,” Perceptor observed. Road Rage, still sitting on her berth, shrugged.

“Comes with the territory I suppose,” she remarked. “I’m an ambassador, often requires me to get to know people quite well, the reason I signed on for this job in the first place, get to know Earth culture better,”

“I noticed,” Perceptor remarked, turning the radio station back on, where a brief snippet of a song played.

“Oh, the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear
And it shows them pearly white
Just a jackknife has old MacHeath, babe
And he keeps it, ah, out of sight
Ya know when that shark bites with his teeth, babe…” a voice crackled from it, before Perceptor turned it back off.

“Suppose it’s hard for me to do my job as an ambassador, when I have to stay cooped up in her half the time, getting drugged up to slow the flow of that damn virus,” Road Rage muttered bitterly.

Perceptor was now the one putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll find a cure. Not just me working on this, if you remember. Twilight, Sugarcoat, they’re putting their backs into this. They don’t have to, they have social lives of their own, but you know what? They’re dropping everything just to help you, someone they barely know. It’s a lot more than most Cybertronians, I shamefully admit, would do. Before, I had barely any respect for humankind, but now that’s changed. Funny that.”

Road Rage only smiled.

Back in the present, Perceptor walked into the main room of the base, and looked around, before blinking slightly.

“Okay, so where’d everyone go?” he asked, before looking down towards Sugarcoat, who was pacing back and forth in worry. “D-Did I miss something?”

“Uh dude, Decepticons just got spotted in Japan stealing some nuclear fuel rods, and Prowl and the others just went off to go chase them. Seriously, alarms went off and everything, whole nine yards!” Indigo exclaimed. “How could you miss this?”

“I was in a recharge cycle, robots need sleep too you know,” Perceptor replied simply and in a matter of fact tone. “Japan, huh? Okay, so how do we plan to keep a lid on this?”

“Chrysalis and Fowler are running interference, Japan’s experienced in robotics as we all know, so they’ll just say that a few prototypes went out of control,” Indigo explained.

“People are dumb, by default in some ways,” Indigo added. “And this explanation is so crazy, people might just believe it. In fact, I’d bet they would.”

“Hey, uh…” Trixie spoke up, absentmindedly strumming her guitar. “Anyone seen Lemon?”

It then hit everyone, that Lemon had conveniently gone missing, and Sugar sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose as everyone’s gazes turned to the little tunnel where the Groundbridge normally opened up, and Prowl and company had gone through only a few hours before.

“...Tell me she didn’t.” Indigo muttered, as the penny dropped.

“She did.” Sugarcoat sighed to herself.

Ikata, Nishiuwa District, Ehime Prefecture

Eventually, the entire group of Autobots met up at a dockyard by the sea not that far from the Power Plant. As Prowl pulled up to let Lemon out, he felt this distinct, tingling sensation. Like a small fire flickering inside him. It wasn’t painful by any means, but just noticeable enough.

“L-Lemon?” Hound asked in shock, his cool blue optics widening by a considerable margin. “What in the Pit’s name are you doing here?”

“Okay, I admit it, I tagged along to get some cool snaps,” Lemon sighed, rubbing her bloody face. “Not my best decision, I admit. But can you blame me? Robot on robot action, and yes I know that sounds like porn so sue me, but this was something I couldn’t miss!”

“I… I…” Hound sighed. “We’ll talk about this later, or more likely your friends will give you a good enough chewing out. I’d probably be tearing you a new one right now, but I’m too exhausted, leaking fluid just like you are (Here he pointed to his chest, which was leaking blue energon) and your friends will probably be more than enough to knock enough sense into you so you won’t do this again anyways,” he stated, before turning to Prowl. “So, how’d it go with Octane?”

Slowly, but surely, and it looked as if he was in pain while doing so, Prowl transformed. Swerve and Hound shot him concerned looks all the while. The entire back of Prowl’s vehicle mode ended up as his legs, lightbars becoming part of his feet, doors folding out to become arms, and front wheels ending up on the back of Prowl’s shoulders as the entire hood of the car became his chest, with a red chevron atop a white head coming into view.

“Got away, Flamewar and Swindle managed to keep me from stopping him, and he transformed into one of his alt-modes and Groundbridged out of here,” Prowl explained, short and getting straight to the point. No nonsense, and no watering things down. “But… On the bright side, we know now at least Perceptor’s armor for the girls worked. Wouldn’t have made it out with my Spark intact without Lemon,” he said, and the girl in question beamed, before Prowl shot her a look. “Still doesn’t excuse her actions though.”

He then noticed Hound and Swerve’s expressions, and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Hound said. “It’s just, well, when you transformed you looked as if you were in pain while doing so. Did you get hit a bit harder than you’re letting on?”

“It’s nothing,” Prowl refuted. “You’re probably right, just took a few too many knocks and dings from Flamewar and Swindle, that’s all.”

Inside, his Logic Circuits were screaming at him that this wasn’t the case, and he’d seen this problem somewhere before, but every other part of Prowl was ignoring them. This concerned him, although he wasn’t about to let it show. Prowl went for his comm unit on his wrist, and requested for a bridge back home, as his colors flickered back to American police livery. Prowl started to transform back to vehicle mode for the ride home, but Hound put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

Swerve transformed back to vehicle mode, legs becoming the back end of a pickup truck, and arms folding up into the chassis as the entire front end of the truck -Which made up a huge amount of his robot mode’s back- moved forwards, the whole thing being accompanied by the very distinctive TSCHE-CHU-CHU-CHE-TSCHE sound. Hound followed suit, and his transformation wasn’t all that different really, with legs flipping and becoming his vehicle mode’s back half and arms folding up into the chassis, with the head vanishing from sight.

A swirling green and blue vortex of energy opened up, and as Lemon stepped inside Swerve’s cab, she noted a slightly beaten and battered Toyota Hilux pickup resting off to the side, by some massive metal shipping containers.

“Hey, so why didn’t you pick that as your vehicle mode Swerve?” she asked. “Mom had one of them, and those things were practically indestructible. Only reason it gave up the ghost was because I… may have accidentally backed it into a lake while learning to drive and flooded the engine compartment,” she laughed nervously. Swerve shuddered, noting to himself to never let her take drive him for any reason.

“Hey Hound, doesn’t that look like the sorta vehicle mode my sister Smallfoot might use as an alt-mode if she came to Earth?” Swerve asked, as the three entered the groundbridge portal.

“Now that you mention it, yeah…” Hound mused.

“I’m sorry, I’m lost here,” Lemon asked, scratching her head. A small white jet flew past her, Phaser if she had to guess. “Who’s this Smallfoot?”

“Sorry, friend of ours and fellow scout from back on Cybertron, very sweet soul. Got along with fellow mini-bots like Glyph and Tap-Out,” Hound explained, with a wistful tone in his voice. “Oddest trio of friends I ever met, considering their various backgrounds. Scout, researcher, and former gladiator. Never understood what they had in common aside from being smaller than your average bot.”

“Hey, me and the rest of the girls get along quite well, even if we’re so different right?” Lemon asked.

“Fair enough, I suppose…” Hound admitted.

“Hey, Friendship is Magic right?” Lemon asked before groaning. “God, that sounded so cheesy.”

Back at the base, Sugarcoat and Twilight had explained to Perceptor about a certain conspiracy theorist’s broadcast.

“I must say, I will never understand the human condition to believe in what simply isn’t there,” Perceptor mused to himself, rubbing a finger on his chin in thought. “Granted, I’m not a psychological profilist, not among my many sets of skills, but it is a fascinating thing isn’t it?”

“Hey,” Chrysalis put in. “Some of us, we all need explanations for what’s going on in the world. I mean, we all believed in sea serpents and giant octopus sinking ships and angry sky gods creating storms just because we couldn’t find anything logical about our planet. I mean, the fact that we believed the Sun and everything else revolved around the Earth is saying quite a bit. Though I think that speaks to the human ego if you ask me…” she mused.

“And then we find out giant squid, though nowhere near the ship sinking size -Perhaps dinghy sinking size- exist!” Sugarcoat pointed out. “And now aliens as well, namely you guys!” she exclaimed, gesturing to Perceptor.

“Not to mention the sea serpents thing, although considering they come from another dimension well, guess that would make them aliens I suppose,” Twilight mused.

“Er, actually, about that other dimension thing… Ran a study on the portal in that statue in front of your high school Twilight,” Perceptor put in. “Turns out, Spacebridge to another world far from here, lightyears away.”

There was the sound of twin thuds, and Perceptor looked to see both Trixie and Twilight had fainted dead away.

“...Was it something I said?” the scientist asked, and both Sunder and Chrysalis gave him ‘looks’.

“Oh nothing, you just made their entire reality crash all around them,” Sugarcoat deadpanned. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I-I see…” Perceptor sighed. “Now, can you continue on about this Xiraia and this radio show of hers. Sounded like you were leading up to something important,”

“Ah, so I was,” Sugarcoat nodded, clearing her throat. “I managed to record the entire thing, and this bit might be of interest to you.”

With that, she pressed a button on her Pipboy-inspired bracelets (The same that let Lemon transform into a Targetmaster) and let it play.

“Hmm, seems this human’s a lot smarter than most, despite her need to think everything’s a conspiracy,” Perceptor mused, taking things in stride. “Let me guess, and if you’re as smart as I think you are, you’re about to tell me that you figured out that you think that the second asteroid is the Decepticon base?” he asked.

“What else could it be?” Sugarcoat replied, crossing her arms.

“Trust me,” Spitfire said, as her face came up onscreen, letting everyone see the inside of her jet’s cockpit. “Kid’s right on the money. I listened to that same radio show as well, and came to the same conclusion. Of course, unlike Sugar here, I actually went and checked to see if my hunch was correct. Long and short of it?” she continued. “It is, I wouldn’t recommend taking that base. I was greeted by a squadron of those Vehicons and a huge number of auto-turrets. Barely escaped alive. I imagine the Cons would be quick to figure out now that people know the location of their base, you aren’t far behind and are probably beefing up their security as we speak! Wouldn’t recommend taking it, least not yet. Not with your forces at least. Give me a chance to round up some tanks and such, and a full flight squadron and then maybe we can take it in one clean sweep.”

“Negative,” Prowl said as he walked inside the base, with Swerve and Hound soon following. After Lemon was let out, they transformed. “I don’t want to risk any possible human casualties.”

“Speaking of possible human casualties…” Indigo growled out, and ran over and punched Lemon in the gut, nearly making her best friend double over.

“What the Hell was that for dude?” Lemon coughed out.

“You… You complete idiot!” Indigo snapped, close to tears. “You could have been killed, I-No, we could have lost you!”

Indigo’s quick correction was not lost on anyone, and Chrysalis suppressed a smirk. Ah, young love. Those two, they reminded her of her when she was their age. Of course, unlike them, they’d probably be able to keep their hormones in check as they got older. Probably.

“Seriously, that was damn reckless.” Sugarcoat admonished, rubbing away at Lemon’s wounds, wiping away all the blood and such.

“You’re… You’re such a… Gah!” Indigo screamed, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration and walking off.

“Indy, wait…” Lemon whispered before brushing past Sugarcoat knocking her on her butt and running after her.

“Well, guess I better go after them I suppose.” Hound sighed and changed back to vehicle mode driving off after the two teenagers.

Eventually, Hound did catch up to Lemon and Indigo in the many, many tunnels that made up a veritable maze inside the canyon walls that housed the Autobot base. It was inside these walls, that another hidden gem of the Ghastly Gorge was revealed. In this case, quite, quite literally.

The walls were lined with crystals of the finest shapes and size, and sparkling bright purple and red as they glittered in the sunlight peeking through a small crack in the cavern ceiling. Geodes and gemstones of all shapes and sizes littered the caverns. Some smoothed and refined, while others retained a spikier form. What would have been a lightless cave had been transformed into a piece of art with how the light reflected off of each and every crystal in sight, creating a kaleidoscope of lights that bathed every corner of the cave. It was tranquil, peaceful and if Hound had known about this place earlier, he admitted he probably would have come here just for some peace and quiet, maybe to update his personal logs or something.

To be perfectly honest, he’d grown bored with the constant metallic landscapes of his homeworld and honestly longed for something more. Aside from the prospect of chasing down and capturing rogue Decepticons, he admitted that the idea of seeing an entirely new world was a very pleasing prospect.

But that, of course, was in the past. Right now, he needed to focus on the here and now, and currently, that was getting, or at least trying to help Lemon and Indigo reconcile. He could feel the tension between them, Primus knew he felt with Sunstreaker and Side Burn before they interfaced for lack of a better term.

He chuckled in remembrance, Side Burn had actually come off from the same production run as Prowl of all bots; however, there’d been some sort of glitch in the production run causing Side Burn to roll off the assembly line vastly different in appearance from everybody else. Cybertronians, when rolling off production lines, each had the same body style underneath depending on what production line was used. (Say, for example, body-type 65356-9292-346 which was often used for bots like Glyph and Bumblebee) Somehow, Side Burn had managed to subvert this trend with his body-type and come off especially different in personality from Prowl in particular.

“Hey, you alright?” Hound asked, sitting his much larger frame by Lemon’s, who was crying, and wiping away tears from her eyes.

“R-Really should get that patched up you know…” Lemon sniffled looking towards the wound in Hound’s chest.

“I’ve survived worse,” Hound replied. “But let’s talk about you, or you and Indigo to be more precise,”

“I already know what’s about to happen.” Lemon sighed and looked up at him. “Indy’s already mad at me, and I’m pretty sure all the other girls don’t even wanna speak to me right now. If anything, you might as well follow through with that thing of yours; maybe I do need to be benched for a bit,”

“You’re being an idiot,” Hound commented.

“Geez. Thanks for rubbing it in,” Lemon groaned and buried her head into her legs.

“Sorry, but that’s what it is. Sure, running off like that into the heat of battle was dumb, but you saved Prowl’s life. Keep this between us, okay, but if I was a younger bot, I probably would have done the exact same thing myself.” Hound admitted.

“But you’re an Autobot. Not a human like me,” said Lemon. “Y’know there’s a reason why we keep running from Decepticons instead of trying to fight them as much as you do. We’d be crushed like grapes because of them!”

“Oh, I knew a bot back on Cybertron, one of the smallest bots you’d ever run across, and yet he’d have the nerve to take on titan-sized Cons like Trypticon. Tap-Out was his name, had bearings of chrome steel.”

“How quickly did he last? Not long, if I had to guess,” Lemon replied.

“Actually still alive today, if you can believe it. Works as a bodyguard at some bank last I recall. Wrestle a perp to the ground faster than you’d be able to blink.”

“No shit!” Lemon gaped, and Hound nodded.

“The thing with bigger enemies, is that the smaller ones always have another way of fighting back,” Hound sat down beside Lemon and patted her back. “Even the Decepticons, no matter how big they are, can still be taken out from the inside by a human, if they could. But enough on that, how did you and Indigo meet? Judging by your dynamic, you’d have to be childhood friends I’d think,” Hound mused.

“Yeah, that’s true. Sure, at Crystal Prep we sorta drifted apart for a while, no thanks to Principal Bitch as we all call her, but we met on a playground. Some assholes were mocking me for playing with dolls, and Indy…” here Lemon sighed wistfully. “She just knocked them flat. Broke one of their noses, if I recall,” she chuckled. “She always did hit hard…” Lemon smiled.

“So why should she hate you for going into battle like that? Sure, it was reckless, but we’d never let you die like that, Lemon.” Hound sighed and looked down. “Look. Maybe Indigo needs some time in the thick of battle, caught in near-death scenarios so that she knows how you felt when she yelled at you.”

“Maybe,” Indigo’s voice said from behind the two. “But I think I’ll pass on the recklessness for the time being. Listen, I was just scared about you. I mean, those suits of ours, till you used it against what’s his face, we didn’t even know they’d work!”

“Indigo, if you’re going to scold and shout at her again, I wouldn’t,” Hound lowered his brows. “I’ve already had to break up one Shadowbolt fight today. One more and I’ll have to take action; one way or another.”

“Yeah yeah,” Indigo replied in a dismissive tone. “Who said anything about shouting or scolding her? I just wanted to talk, that’s all.”

“Well, you sound like you’re still riled up,” Hound stood back up. “The way you wanted to brush me off like that, it doesn’t spell ‘calmed down’ in my optics.”

“Listen, I get that you’re concerned for us and all, but can you give us some space? Please?” Indigo asked. “This is sorta a personal matter between me and Lemon.”

“Personal?” Hound tilted his head. “How so?

“I mean really secretive personal, Hound,” Indigo walked past him. “The stuff I’d rather not have shared ‘round.”

Hound nodded in understanding, and smiled to himself before talking off, the sound of his massive metal footsteps receding being heard.

“Lemon. I’m not just worried about you because of how dangerous it was out there,” Indigo felt a lump appear in her throat. “If you’re gone… I have nobody left.”

“What about your parents, or the rest of the ‘Bolts?” Lemon asked.

“The other Shadowbolts have way too many issues these days. Sugarcoat’s stuffier than a stuffed stocking, Sour Sweet’s emotionally unstable, and Sunny Flare… well, I don’t really know what to make of her these days after Cinch and all…” she held Lemon’s shoulder. “Without you, I feel like I’ve got this gaping hole where my heart should be, y’know?”

Lemon faked a gag. “You know how mushy that sounds right? Sure you’re not in a Nicholas Sparks novel?” she teased, punching her best friend on the arm slightly. She noted Indigo avoided the subject of her parents completely.

“Lemon. Please,” Indigo’s stare intensified as she saw Lemon’s smile fade. “This isn’t a joking matter. Don’t die. You’re my only family. My sister, if you want. I can’t lose my only family; for anything.”

“Oh please, give me a break. Stop denying it,” Lemon remarked. “We both know we’re more to each other than sisters,” she replied before facepalming. “Great, now I’m the mushy one!”

“Yes you are,” Indigo nodded. “But still, I’m not about to watch you go out there and risk life and limb just for some ‘cool shots’ or some other crap like that. I need you. We need you. Without you, what are we other than bullies and jackasses?”

“Friends?” Lemon asked. “Trust me, I’ve seen the rest of the Shadowbolts. When we’re together, we actually act like normal people, instead of just screwed up prep school kids.”

“Aren’t those the same thing?” Indigo raised a brow. “But anyways, it doesn’t change my opinions or my point. And, if anything, if you die…” she held Lemon’s hand. “At least die with me. Together. Then, we can stay buds for the rest of time.”

“Indy…” Lemon’s eyes widened as she felt her fingers interlock with Indigo’s. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do, Lemon Zest.” Indigo smiled and pulled her into a gentle hug, with a small kiss finding its’ way onto her lips. “We’ve been through so much together, you and I. It’s only fair that we go out the same way; not with one of us biting the dust early,”

Lemon Zest felt a warmth begin to grow in her heart as she wrapped her arms around Indigo’s chest and brought her into a hug. Smiling and nuzzling into her friend’s chest, she knew that things would only get better; so long as the two of them stuck together through thick and thin.

“Indy… thank you,” Her face flashed with color again as she broke out of the hug. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Hey. No problem, girl.” Indigo tousled Lemon’s hair. “That’s what friends do, right? We shout, argue, and have our little… problems. But at the end of it all, we’re still BFFs. And that’s what makes us truly special.”

“Totally!” Lemon replied, before giving Indigo another quick kiss.

In the shadows, Chrysalis and Hound sighed in relief. “Thank God that’s over,” Chrysalis muttered. “I was worried we were going to have to shove them into a room together or something and lock the damn door…”

Author's Note

Okay, so first off, huge thanks to Shadowmane once more for helping me write the final part of this chapter, namely the section between Hound, Indigo, and Lemon. Had two completely different writing styles for Lemon. Me, I was going for someone who was trying to register all this in her mind, and make jokes about it, while Shadow, in his own words: "Lemon Zest is basically Pinkie Pie with headphones for me, and I try to write her as such, while having her retain a Shadowbolt and slightly more dignified." In the end, I conceded his point, and let him do that, even if it came off as more than a little mushy if you ask me for Lemon and Indigo's characters. Especially Indigo, given that I see her as more of a slightly more competitive Rainbow Dash.

With Lemon, and I apologize for going on about this in a Transformers story, and I know a lot of you hate humans when it comes to Transformers fiction, official or not especially with romance (Thank you Micheal Bay!) I'm trying to write her as a Demisexual, and if you're too lazy to Google that...

A demisexual is a person who does not experience sexual attraction unless they form a strong emotional connection with someone. It's more commonly seen in but by no means confined to romantic relationships

Anyways, figured it best to get this out of the way as quick as possible instead of dragging it on for a few more chapters or so.

On Transformers related stuff. Bits of foreshadowing here and there, like namedrops and such, amongst other things. Keep an eye on Prowl's condition, it'll play a role soon enough. As ever, comments and thoughts, and critique especially are welcome.

Part 13: Kindred

Author's Note

Be warned: Some rather dark themes ahead with this chapter, and some very strong language. Honestly, though I really want to think Shadowmane -and Y'all should as well-, for helping me write the first half or so of the chapter. Before, couldn't really get into Sour's mindset, hence her status so far as a one-off joke character, but now...? I think I can manage.

I discovered when writing the back and forth between her and Breakdown, it's like two sides of the same coin in some ways. Write one successfully, and you can probably do the other.

Part 13: Kindred

“Welcome to KO Burger, where every patty’s a knockout,” Sour Sweet found herself repeating for what had to be the hundredth time that day alone. She honestly wanted to just drop dead then and there, at the very most it would relieve her of this monotonous job. Even with the smile forced onto her face, she knew that deep down, she felt like she was strapped into a torture device, being poked, stabbed, and branded by the corporation she served.

How come all the other Shadowbolts get to do all the good shit while I’m stuck here, peddling burgers for twerps and their families?” Sour mentally moaned to herself, handing off another meal to another customer. Two super combos with extra fries, costing $5.59, she vaguely remembered. “Sometimes, I wish they were the ones working these tedious jobs instead; ESPECIALLY Sugarcoat. Smart little bitch… But no, she’s got the brains to go into university and shit, maybe she’ll become some sort of nurse. Oh sure, I’d congratulate her all the same, but I doubt I’d honestly make it so far. Because, let’s face it, who’d hire me for my bedside manner? They’d have to be crazy!”

And Sour Sweet knew a thing or two about crazy. Even before the Friendship Games, she had trouble trusting people. No matter how good they were or how close a friendship she had made with them, she always had voices in her head and alternate realities in her eyes that were a far cry from the one she was in. An inability to see the world for what it really was, coupled with her tendencies to switch emotions at the drop of a hat, cost her more than a few bonds and relationships in her time growing up.

There was a reason the Who song “The Real Me” could either set her off in a fury and make her want to punch everyone in sight, or make her break down in tears of sympathy for the singer, or protagonist of the song.

“Hey, Sour. We need you in the drive-thru real quick,” Her manager came over and patted her on the back. “For some reason, Slick managed to get himself a bit of a stomach bug and it’s playing hell on his work ethic.”

Sour sighed. “I warned him to clean out his fridge, half of that crap’s been tainted as it is,” she mumbled to herself. She really just, for once, wanted a bit of peace and quiet as it was. Maybe after work, she’d go out back and light up a joint with the rest of the boys. About the only time nobody really cared who she was.

“Alright. Fine. I’ve got this.” She walked away from the counter and headed towards the drive thru windows.

The headphones of the drive-thru PA system were just as barren and bleak as the rest of her mental state. Black and chunky, with what looked like the thinnest, least appealing microphone ever to grace the planet, it was yet another bolt on her impounded life. Still, she slipped them on her head, turned to the cameras, and tried to fake that smile again. Try being the keyword, as her cheeks began to hurt from the facade.

A loud rumble filled Sour’s ears as some massive off-roader vehicle (Like Sour could care to remember the name) pulled up, tinted windows and heavily customized rims and all. She had to suppress a groan, looked like the local drug runners had a serious case of the munchies, probably from smoking too much weed. Only reason they’d come to this place, really.

“Welcome to KO Burger, where every patty’s a knockout…” Sour’s voice began to wane, knowing that this wouldn’t be pleasant for her. “Can I take your order please?” she sighed, absentmindedly adjusting her hat that every worker at the joint was supposed to wear. Really, Sunny Flare would probably have a field day at the sheer crimes against fashion this place committed, she thought with a chuckle.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll take two threes and a cola to go. And a bit of you too.” The voice must’ve belonged to a guy from some school, one who couldn’t be bothered to read the whole order and say the numbers to make it fast. Sour let out a little growl. This was far worse than some pack of drug addicts. No, it had to be one of those buffed-up jocks on steroids who thought they could land any girl they wanted. This idiot certainly couldn’t have been from her school, everyone knew to stay far away from her and never make remarks like that, otherwise, they’d find themselves on their asses missing a few teeth. This was then followed by a small chuckle from him as Sour started up again.

“What size are those orders again?” She gritted her teeth, but still tried to stay collected; though it was becoming more and more of a challenge for her to do so. Any normal person would have backed off by this point, but that would require this particular customer to have some semblance of intelligence.

“It's 5 o’clock somewhere and I need to update my resume. Would you put "day drinking" under experience or special abilities?” Sour thought to herself with a look skywards, seemingly praying for some relief. Maybe a lightning bolt striking this guy and his car making it burst aflame. Sadly, no such luck. The sky was as clear as day.

“Who cares about the sizes, just hook me up, fast!” Replied the customer. Music was blaring at an obnoxiously loud volume from the stereo speakers. Rap music at that, something Sour had a particular distaste for. It was where good music went to die. “I have to get back to the gym soon, or I’ll miss my fat-burning class!”

“This jackass… I’ll just give him small ones then since he’s got no respect for taking time to study the damn menu!” Sour turned back towards the people in the kitchen. “Broil! Simmer! I need two small number threes and a cola!” she barked, snapping her fingers impatiently as she did so. “And be quick about it!”

Needless to say, the two kitchen staff leapt to work like they’d been ordered by an angry dictator under their command and hastily prepared the number three orders. The drink wasn’t that much of a hassle, though, as one button push poured it into a KO Burger-branded cup. The rest of the order eventually came through, and was delivered in a bag to Sour’s window. Now, all she needed to do was wait for him to drive up.

“Well, come on, don’t have all day!” Sour snapped, snapping her fingers repeatedly once more as the guy and his offroader slowly drove up to the window. The music was now ringing in her ears, something about a guy wanting to bitch slap his whore. Sour sighed, really nice piece of society she got here. “Seriously, you’re holding up the damn lines here!”

Of course, that was a lie. There really wasn’t any lines, Sour just wished there was. Maybe in that case, it’d give her something to do aside from dealing with this idiot. Even screaming, crying children were better than this particular scenario. Hell, she’d even go with a druggie!

The guy came up, took the bag, and caught a glimpse of Sour’s perfectly crafted face as he did so. He was almost to the point of drooling with how awestruck he was. Actually, he was drooling on second glance, which Sour immediately regretted.

“So… you wanna—“

“If you’re asking me out, NO.” Sour immediately stopped him. “Just take your food and go. Don’t damage the company quota or we’ll all be in trouble for it,” She glared at him with eyes that could kill. “Also, word of advice, if you want to get a date… Shut that music up, having music that says you want to bitch slap someone. Real turn off asshole. You’re the brand of idiot, who gives idiots like you a bad name.” she stated flatly, channeling her inner Sugarcoat.

The tactic worked, as the customer immediately lurched back and drove off in a squeal of tire smoke, letting the line proceed as normal. Sour just decided to pull her hands downward across her face as the next one drove up. Sour had to blink for a second. In front of her, a dark blue Lamborghini of some make. She really didn’t give much crap about Italian supercar models.

Still, there was something about this one that seemed rather… familiar. Then her eyes caught the Decepticon symbol resting on the car’s hood. She wanted to scream, but realized there was probably no point in that. Not like it’d stop the Con from killing her, really.

“Uh… welcome to KO Burger…” She couldn’t even find her words as she spoke to the Con, knowing full well what was about to come next. She could already hear the blaster barrel’s hum warming up in her head. “How can I help you today?”

“What, can’t someone just want to have a talk with the underappreciated workers of the fast-food industry?” the Con asked, keeping his darkened windows up. “I mean, seriously, you guys really don’t get the credit you deserve. So… uh, keep up the good work kid.” he continued, actually sounding rather sincere. No cracks, no threats, just an actual honest-to-god compliment.

“To be totally honest, I’m on the verge of peeing myself…” Sour whispered as she spoke with the Con. “Decepticons terrify me, so much… especially when I can’t do a thing to stop them…”

“Yeah. We aren’t really the peacekeeping type. Completely understandable,” The con said as it drove closer to her. “But between you and me, I’m kinda on my wit’s end about it too. Listen, whenever your shift—I think they call it—ends, can we talk?”

“About what?” Sour asked. “My demise? A ransom for the others?”

“You’ll find out in due time.” He said before driving off. “Enjoy your day, miss. And don’t stop doing what you’re doing.”

As the next customer drove into the drive-thru, Sour’s voice still stayed diminished and cold, like she was in the arctic, fighting against a sheer cold. Her blood froze to the touch, and her heart rate accelerated. A Con wanted to speak with her, and they were never the bearers of any good news.

“Welcome to… KO Burger. Where every patty’s a… knockout.” She sounded almost like that pink-haired, yellow-skinned girl from Canterlot High she met at the Friendship Games. Butterfly, or something like that. “How can I… help you today?”

Time seemed to go by in a blur, and evening fell and Sour found herself out in the burger joint’s parking lot. As she walked to the nearest bus stop, a car, the same one from before pulled in front of her and parts shifted and changed before the Stunticon -Breakdown, if she remembered correctly- stood in front of her. Sour Sweet was thankful the city seemed to be empty this time of night, no cars on the road or anything. She honestly pitied Fowler with the task he’d have if anyone were to capture a photo of her and Breakdown.

“Glad you decided to come.” Breakdown knelt before her, his violet optics looking directly into Sour’s indigo orbs. “Now, I think it’s high time you and I have a chat. Guess you’d say a talk between two kindred spirits.”

Sour Sweet forced back a barking laugh. “K-Kindred spirits?” she asked, with more than a hint of nervousness, noting the rather large sword strapped to Breakdown’s waist. “No offense intended, but I don’t go shooting up humans, or running them down just because I feel like it.

Breakdown had the decency to wince at that, he supposed he had that one coming. “Right, you’re that Indigo girl’s friend…” he murmured to himself.

“Well, friend being an operative word. Half the time, I’m wanting to punch her in the face,” Sour sighed.

“Sounds like me and most of the other Cons on the ship half the time, really,” Breakdown chuckled bitterly. “Heh, you know why they call me Breakdown right? Not just because I'm a Stunticon, oh no.”

Sour Sweet considered her curiosity peaked, and quirked an eyebrow.

“Best excuse I have for my behavior,” Breakdown continued. “Well, I’m paranoid. You think I’m been given my codename as a joke? Okay, maybe I was, probably by Primus finally gaining a sense of humor, but the thing is… I’d honestly rather be off by myself than with the rest of my team, my Conjunx Endura excluded of course.”

“Conjunx Endura?” Sour asked, eyebrow still raised.

“Basically the Cybertronian version of a spouse, really. Some prefer the term Sparkmate, a holdover from Sentinel Prime’s day. Semantics, really. Suppose you’d probably want to know about the lineage of Primes, but to be honest, your Autobot partners could probably give you a lecture on that better than I could. And we’re getting off topic, and I’m starting to ramble anyhow,” Breakdown laughed nervously before he cleared his throat, or whatever the Cybertronian version was anyways. In a way, Sour was reminded of Twilight with Breakdown, the bot seemed somewhat shy really, and not exactly the open type.

“If I may ask, who’s-”

“My spouse?” Breakdown finished for her. “Knockout. Yeah, that one. Vain, and a bit on the pushy side when you’re interrupting his work, but by Primus I love him. Anyways, been pushing to be transferred to the Scout division for a while now, least that way I could be alone with my thoughts. Sports cars, tend to attract a lot of attention on your planet as I’ve found so switched out paint jobs as well. White is quite the eye-catching color. Least with blue, I can sorta blend in a bit better. Everyone’s just looking at me, back when I had my original paint job. Doesn’t help my paranoia any, as you’d expect. Back on Cybertron, and here as well, just wanted to clear the battlefield if only for my own peace of mind.”

“Well, ever thought about changing alt modes?” Sour suggested, leaning on a planter, and lightning up a cigarette. “I mean, think about it, something big and bulky like a Humvee… Sure, they’d still look at you, but everyone would be screaming, get out of the way in fear of you running them down.”

“That’s an idea... “ Breakdown mused, before he remembered who exactly was giving him this advice. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be an ally to the Autobots? Why are you even giving me the time of day, and not running off in fear?”

“Like you said before, kindred spirits right?” Sour shrugged, breathing out a bit of smoke. “Sure you or some other ‘Con looked up my Yatter feed. So, you know what I’m like. Been diagnosed with a lot of things, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia. I’m basically a shrink’s wet dream,” she stated flatly. “I try, and by God, I try to work through it but sometimes…”

“It’s too much?” Breakdown asked, in a soft and understanding tone.

“Yeah… Pills aren’t much help, and certainly, people shitting on me for my condition and saying I need to be locked up don’t help the issue much. Take, for example, Canterlot High’s local juvie hall poster girl to be, Gilda Gruff. Built like a mountain, and with a temper to match. She’s always been in and out of detention for one reason or another, both her and Lightning Dust. So, one day she decided to grow the balls and mouth off to me. Called me quite a few things, and let’s just say if I hadn’t realized what I was doing at the last moment, would have been the last mistake either of us ever made,” Sour sighed to herself, tossing the cigarette aside. “You know what I told her? Even as I was beating her to a pulp, bruised and bloody?” Sour asked, even as her fists clenched at the sheer thought of Gilda’s smashed in face. “I told her that I wish she’d die, nobody would miss her, not even her family. She was just a delinquent without a home. And the thing is, when those words were in my head I didn't think I meant them; but when they left my mouth, I realized that I did. If the world thinks you're a monster, what does it matter? The world is wrong. But when you start to think of yourself as a monster…” Sour trailed off, her voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah, know that feeling all too well,” Breakdown mused. “Personally, there’s been times I want to say fuck the world, and end it all. Just shove a sword through my spark. But you know why I haven’t?”

“W-Why?” Sour asked, her voice trembling as she struggled to fight back tears.

“Because, every time I even consider the notion, I remember I’ve got friends -Offbeat and slightly strange as they are- to keep me here. I mean, I’m considering their feelings. Not to mention Knockout’s. I mean, what’d he think if I just decided to end it all, eh?” Breakdown asked.

“Friends…” Sour breathed, thinking back.

“Personally, I think this movie is highly unrealistic. No one, not even someone after getting ripped apart by a chainsaw would spurt that much blood and gore,”

“Ah, Trixie sees the problem… You would be rather over-sized for this task, wouldn’t you? Now, I assume it’s as simple as cut the red wire? That’s how it always is in the movies, isn’t it?”

“Seriously, you were like: “This ends here!” and he was like “Never!”

“A berserk serum for machines. How perplexing… Usually, those kinds of things have been developed for humans only. How one has been made for machines, I’ll never know. Have you got a computer screen that shows her vitals?”

“Oh, I more than think. We have to tell Prowl and the rest, we might just know the location of the Decepticon base!”

“Yeah, I got you there,” Sour admitted. “I mean sure, they drive me up the walls at times, but let’s face it, if they didn’t, it’d be all normal and frankly rather boring right?” she remarked, with a small laugh, which Breakdown could only return.

“Normal? What’s normal?” the Stunticon asked before giving her a smile. “Hey, if you ever want to talk, and I mean just about anything or you need someone to yell at… Well, just call me,” he said, before transforming and driving off into the night.

Sour then found her little gauntlets receiving the data for Breakdown’s personal comm channel. She then found herself saying two words she’d never thought she’d utter in a million lifetimes.

“Thanks… Breakdown."

Part 15: A Matter of Trust

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Part 16: Discovery

Taunton Bay, Hancock County

September was one of those months beloved by Maine-dwellers, especially those on the coastal areas like the citizens of Canterlot. The city itself, nestled deep within woodlands wasn’t that far from Mt. Desert Island and so it really wasn’t that far of a drive from the city itself to the coastlines. Certainly not that far of a drive if you had access to the Groundbridge.

So, there the girls were, packed for a day at the beach along some lonely coastline in 70 or something degree weather. All in all, seemed like another normal day, the kind they’d been slowly getting used to before the Autobots and Decepticons came along. It was a fortunate week as well timing wise, as the teachers had given the students of CHS and Crystal Prep a week off from school, while they prepared their new lessons.

“Ahh, peace and quiet!” Trixie smiled as she adjusted her sunglasses, soaking up the sun’s rays while under a small umbrella. “Exactly what both the doctor, and Trixie herself ordered.”

Turning herself so that she was resting on her towel, back fully exposed to the sun, she turned the dial on a nearby radio station.

“Okay, okay! This is your favorite paranoid UFOlogist and government conspiracy nut, Xiraia coming at you live from my little station in Canterlot!” the constantly cheerful -If not a little nuts- African-American exclaimed. “Now, Maine. It has it’s share of legends right? Anyone hear of the Monster of Pocomoonshine Lake? Yes yes, a funny name I know, nowhere near as dignified as Nessie or the Ogopogo but we have an actual, live sea serpent swimming about! 30 feet long or so, big guy old Poco. Odd thing, we’ve been getting sightings from what I hear around the coasts of some snake-like creature some odd years back, and they just started up again recently. Now, I know Poco’s supposed to slither onto land occasionally -Because really, who’d want to stay in some cold lake?- but the coasts? Pretty far removed from Pocomoonshinelake. Maybe the sighters are all drinking some ‘Shine themselves. Yes, even I have my doubts about this one.”

“Why do you insist on listening to that rot?” Twilight had to ask, sitting down next to Trixie. Unlike her girlfriend, she was much more conserved in her attire and was dressed in a simple one-piece.

“Hey, it’s interesting stuff!” Trixie exclaimed, holding up a bottle of suntan lotion. “Here, slather some of this on Trixie’s back eh?”

Blushingly, Twilight did so as Trixie continued. “Besides, Xiraia’s been right before has’t she?” the stage magician remarked.

“Yes, about aliens. Lake monsters, another thing entirely.” Twilight deadpanned. She was really hoping her red face wouldn’t show to either Trixie or her friends. She’d never hear the end of it.

“Ya never know…” Trixie trailed off. “Besides, between you and me? I find cryptids absolutely fascinating stuff. Sure, might not be real, might be but they’re fun to think about and speculate over a cup of Sahlab no?”

Twilight did often forget Trixie’s parents did have an Egyptian heritage at least on her mother’s side, wasn’t something her girlfriend brought up often.

“I suppose, bit of an escape from reality. Like Dungeons and Dragons really.” Twilight shrugged.

“Please, keep your nerdy board games to yourself, Twilight Sparkle!” Trixie teased lightly, booping her on the nose making Twilight’s face scrunch up all cutely.

“Okay, I will, Lulamoon, the Ranger of Elvenwood!” Twilight teased, getting some of her own back.

“Et tu Twilight, et tu…” Trixie sighed. “Oh, she is so totally whipped is she not?” she continued, faking despair.

“Yes, yes you are…” Twilight smirked, keen on letting her know it.

“Hey Trixie, Twilight!” a familiar voice called, as Indigo rushed by alongside Sour. “Sure you’re not interested in going for a dive? Let me tell you, best way to lose yourself for a bit, open water.”

“No thanks, I’ve seen Jaws and I know what happens to swimmers and divers!” Trixie called back to them, the two carrying surfboards in their hands, Indigo wearing an athletic wetsuit with short sleeved arms and legs and Sour dressed in a cherry-toned one-piece that filled her figure out nicely.

“...You watch way too many movies, Trix,” Sour sighed. “Besides, it’s Tiger Sharks you’d have to worry about, not Great Whites. They eat anything.”

“A-Anything?” Trixie squeaked out. “And does this include little stage magicians named Trixie?”

“Probably. Tires and even metal have been found in Tiger Shark stom-” Sour shrugged, before Indigo smacked her firmly upside the head making her let out a little yelp.

“Sour, anyone ever tell you that you don’t have a way with words?” the soccer star deadpanned. “See, you’re scaring the girl!” she said, gesturing to Trixie who was rocking back and forth in a fetal position.

“Sorry, been watching old reruns of Shark Week again. I get bored, okay?” Sour shrugged. “And nothing beats boredom then watching sharks munch things to itty bitty pieces!”

“Not. Helping!” Indigo hissed, before looking skywards muttering to herself: “Why do I even bother sometimes? God pity the girlfriend or boyfriend you end up with…”

“Relax Trixie,” a new voice popped in, quite chipper. “Tiger Sharks, Great Whites, they live off in warmer waters like down near Florida or something. Sure as Hell won’t find any down here in Maine!”

“Juniper!” Twilight exclaimed, rushing up to hug the girl who’d clad herself in a green two-piece. “What… I mean what are you doing here?”

“Well, I suppose I could ask you the same thing yourself Twilight,” Juniper Montage said. “But if you must know, my uncle Canter Zoom, he’s out here down the coast a little ways shooting this film called “The Legend of Desert Island, a Fisherman’s Tale." Some low-budget horror thing, revolving around this young girl and this haunted lighthouse. He’s in one of his phases again…”

Twilight shared a knowing look. Canter Zoom, from what she’d heard of her chat over the internet with Juniper had these phases were sometimes he’d go off to shoot some low budget film by himself, to reignite the creative flame or something like that. Never were really noteworthy, these pieces, more likely to end up on Mystery Science Theatre but they always got him thinking on the much larger pieces that made him famous. Suppose everyone needed a break now and then from writing blockbusters. Twilight and Juniper never judged.

“Yeah, didn’t want to spend my time around a B-Film’, -Even one of my uncle’s- production knowing I was probably going to end up riffing it whenever it aired on late night TV,” Juniper sighed. “Saw you gals, looked like you were having fun so I decided to see what was up.”

Her eyes briefly drifted towards Knock-Out, who was resting up on a cobblestone parking lot near the beach in his vehicle mode. Swordbreaker was nearby, a black dog -Somewhat larger than normal and rather wolfish- resting on his hood soaking up the sun’s rays. “Nice car. Where’d you get it? Your family win the lottery or something?” Juniper questioned.

All of the others sucked in breaths or shared nervous looks. Thankfully, Trixie was quick with the save.

“Hardly, it’s Twilight’s uncle’s! He’s letting us borrow it for the day,” Trixie explained, and although Juniper looked somewhat suspicious, she let it slide. “Dog’s his as well, he said it needs some exercise.

This dog, was, in fact, Feral Steel under a holographic glamour to keep an eye on Sunny as Fowler had asked. He wasn’t the only Predacon in the area, Sunder was lurking out of sight amongst the nearby treeline.

“Ah, I got ya.” Juniper nodded. “He does look a little fat…”

Feral let out a little growl, and Juniper yelped a little. “Though I mean nothing by that, just an observation!” She stammered out, holding her hands up defensively.

“Steel, be quiet.” Sunny barked out from nearby, pointing a stern figure at the Predacon, who quavered under her gaze. Knock Out chuckled softly to himself, Feral Steel, one of the more infamous Predacon hunters now a simple housepet controlled by a human!

It took Knock Out a second to realize what the sound of metal grinding against metal meant, but he soon realized that Swordbreaker was laughing at this as well.

“Funny, I didn’t even think that guy had a sense of humor…” the Medic thought to himself.

“Hey, what’s that?” Juniper asked, pointing towards the bay, where what looked to be a giant fin cutting through the water was briefly seen before submerging once more.

“Shark?” Sour asked before she turned… moody again. “Nah, more likely some little brat who thought it’d be a good idea to give us all a jump scare for shits and giggles!” she corrected herself before shouting: “Hey you little punk, you need better prank ideas! That one, so old and overused!”

“...Well, I’m waiting a few more hours till I take a dip in that water.” Indigo decided.

“Is she… always like that?” Juniper asked delicately leaning into Twilight’s ear for a whisper, taking a few steps back from Sour as she did so.

“Yeah. Pretty much,” Twilight sighed. “You get used to it. ...Somewhat.”

“...Little punk probably would have tried to grope my breasts as well!” Sour muttered, crossing her arms. Indigo patted her on the shoulder sympathetically, looking rather unnerved. Whether if it was from Sour’s rant or the idea of a shark in the waters was uncertain.

Feral’s blood red optics had narrowed slightly as he observed the shark fin when it had appeared, seemingly in suspicion although nobody seemed to notice this or his hackles raising for that matter.

“Well, it’s a beach, so why not just enjoy ourselves a little eh?” Lemon cried out, grabbing Trixie’s radio away from her and tuning into the local station. “Seriously, bit too quiet around here for my tastes!”

“Oh, the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear
And it shows them pearly white
Just a jackknife has old MacHeath, babe
And he keeps it, ah, out of sight
Ya know when that shark bites with his teeth, babe…”

Sour quite quickly changed the station to something else.

“Not. Helping.” she grumbled. Next song, wasn’t exactly helpful either. Seemed someone watching them had a sense of humor.

“Baby, there's a shark in the water
There's something underneath my bed
Oh, please believe I said

“Baby, there's a shark in the water
I caught them barking at the moon
Better be soon…”

“Oh come on!” Sour shouted in disbelief, throwing her hands up in the air. “I swear, if the next song that comes on is “Once Bitten, Twice Shy” then I’ll…” she trailed off into undecryptable muttering.

Thankfully, Juniper and everyone else around her was saved from a potential explosion of rage from the freckled girl by the next song actually just being a swing jazz instrumental.

Feral looked up towards where he knew where Sunder was hiding, and said in the Predacon tongue over his private comms: “You had something to do with the music didn’t you? Seems like your sense of humor.”

Sunder just made beeping sounds of swearing innocence. Feral didn’t entirely believe him.

“Come on Twi, dance!” Trixie said, as she got up off her towel and began to groove to the music.

“I… I don’t know how to…” Twilight mumbled to herself almost too quiet to hear.

“What, you don’t know how to dance?” Trixie asked. “Awww… Do not worry, the Great and Instructing Trixie shall teach you! Soon, you’ll be dancing like that old guy from… what was it? Footfree? Trixie admits she’s no eighties expert so she only guesses.”

“Kevin Bacon,” Twilight answered as Juniper and Indigo giggled in the background at the couple’s antic. “And I don’t do disco.”

“Now, none of that!” Trixie reprimanded with a little wag of the finger, only increasing the laughter. “Now, all you have to do, is put your arms around my waist like so…” Trixie continued, as she rested her hands on Twilight’s shoulders.

“So, anyways, Twilight,” Juniper continued as she watched her friend and Trixie engage in a slow dance from her place on a fold-out chair. “Got this friend of mine, thought you might get along with her, or at least Fluttershy might. Met her over Twitter, and no I don’t care what that girl with the smartphone, Vignette Valencia says, it’s not an outdated trend.”

“Wait, Vignette Valencia? Social media celebrity?” Lemon asked in excitement, and everyone looked at her. Or more accurately, stared directly at her in stunned silence. Lemon blushed sheepishly. “I’m… I’m a fan. I follow her everywhere!”

“...My respect for you just dropped tenfolds,” Sugarcoat sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Social media celebrities, everybody knows who they are just because they’ve done something so minute like post this small video of them doing something stupid like… Oh, I don’t know, say “It's like a turducken!” and get your statement remixed into something mildly entertaining,” she explained, her voice dripping with no small amount of disgust. “Basically, you end up with the Kardashians in the end, everybody knows them but nobody knows exactly why. ...Might explain why shows like Duck Dynasty took off. Seriously, who cares about a family of duck hunters in the state of Louisiana?”

“...What’s a turducken?” Lemon asked, rubbing her chin in thought. She, of course, had completely ignored or tuned out most of Sugarcoat’s little spiel on her opinions about social media. Like she and pretty much everyone else did most of the time. Just nod your head and pretend you were following it, was everyone’s general solution to whenever Sugarcoat wanted to voice her… opinions on something she found distasteful.

“Hypothetical mix of a chicken, turkey and a duck. Think they made the idea into a sandwich once. Not even Pinkie would eat it,” Twilight replied with a small shudder of disgust at the idea. “But we’re getting off track here. Juniper, this friend of yours?”

“Oh, oh, yes yes!” Juniper replied, flushing in embarrassment having lost herself in Sugarcoat’s little running commentary on social media celebrities. Adjusting her glasses, she continued. “She’s… well, she’s pretty much like how you used to be. Complete shut-in, only friends seem to be the plants in her parent’s greenery. A, uh, wallflower, you might say. Could use someone to talk to really. She’s begun to open up more over social media, but she’s not really had an actual…”

“Face to face conversation?” Twilight sighed sadly in complete understanding. “Yeah, I know how that feels. Before I met the girls, only real friends I had were these people in a chatroom related to Dungeons and Dragons…” she trailed off sadly, before chuckling in remembrance. How funny it would be, one of those friends would later turn out to be Trixie.

“Ooh ooh!” Lemon piped up, practically jumping up in down in excitement with her hand held high. “I could go talk to her! Give her some sick beats, everybody bonds over music!”

“No offense, but I’d think you’d be a bit too… wild for her.” Juniper deadpanned.

“Actually, the idea does have merit. Mind you, I’d tag along with her, just to keep Lemon in check but music has been used to help people communicate. Studies actually have been conducted on this,” Twilight explained. “It’s been found, and I’m quoting from this article I found online mind you: “Singing provides increased phonation duration (holding out a sound for a long time), intonation, and has a shared auditory-motor pathway with speech. One unique feature of music is its rhythm – the rhythm we find in song is inherently predictable and may help cue what’s coming next.” Twilight quoted, word for word from pure memory.

“See?” Lemon said with a smug little smile before she sighed. “I… I don’t know if you gals knew this, but before I was… well, me, not exactly the most sociable person around. The only outlet I had to express my emotions? Well, it was music.”

“Oh Zesty…” Indigo whispered, bringing her girlfriend in for a hug. Lemon tried to fight back the blush she had with her girlfriend’s somewhat exposed breasts so close to her, but was failing badly. So, she just changed the subject. Quickly.

“Yes, well, that’s in the past. Eventually, few people took notice of the music I liked, and we started talking back and forth about various genres, bands and like. Tuned me onto stuff -If you excuse the poor pun- I didn’t even know about! Remember that song I was singing in CPA’s cafeteria a few weeks back?”

“Something from that old Sylvester Stallone movie called Cobra, right? “You got the Touch” or something like that?” Indigo remembered, an image in her mind of Lemon doing air guitar atop one of CPA’s cafeteria tables.

“Yes, that!” Lemon chimed in, back to her old perky self.

“Didn’t know you were an obscure movie buff,” Juniper put in. “What’s your name again?”

“Indigo, Indigo Zap,” Indigo said, offering her hand for Juniper to shake, which was accepted. “I have the feeling, given who your uncle is, this will be the beginnings of a fine friendship.”

“Yeah…” Juniper smiled softly and had to force the tears away from her eyes, before she found herself looking Lemon dead in the eyes.

“Just remember one thing,” Lemon said in a completely serious tone. “She’s mine, okay? So, no stealing!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Juniper smiled before she looked at the waters, and the sun just beginning to set. “So, if you ask me, I say we hit the bay before the waters get too cold for a dive okay? Sounds like a good time if you ask me! Who knows, might be able to capture some good footage for something, maybe even find the Pocomoonshine monster!” she exclaimed in excitement, holding up a little underwater camera.

“So glad someone believes in that thing as well!” Trixie chimed in triumphantly.

“Sounds like fun, monster or no monster,” Indigo shrugged. “Shark’s probably long gone by now, if there ever was one to begin with.”

“Great!” Juniper said, hugging her newest friend briefly -Ignoring or just not outright hearing Lemon’s growl of jealousy- and dashing off. “Be back in a sec, just need to grab my gear!”

“...She’s so much more developed than me.” Lemon whimpered to herself, with Sour patting her on the shoulder in sympathy.

It wasn't even a few minutes later that the two had descended. Under the waves, everything was so much more calm and tranquil. Indigo never knew quite why, but she always liked the water. She was certainly no siren of the sea, but she did find herself at peace whenever she took a dive in the school’s pool. Maybe, just maybe, it stemmed from the fact that whenever she was back at CPA, being underwater meant there was nobody to really bother her in any form.

Nearby, Juniper was scanning the murky waters of the bay with her camera every now and then, in hopes of catching something. Every time she thought she saw something dart past her, she let out a little squeak of excitement and turned her camera in that direction.

“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t the first time you’ve done this?” Indigo asked via sign language. She’d had this deaf cousin at CHS, so she’d made it prudent to learn the language as soon as she could.

“Yeah, sorry. Just been fascinated with the Lake Pocomoonshine monster for quite a while now. Been down to the lake once, forgotten why I was there but laid down some camera traps in hopes of catching something.” Juniper signed back.

“And did you?” Indigo had to ask.

“Actually, now that you mention it, yes. Yeah, I did,” Juniper replied. “Mind you, couldn’t tell exactly what it was. Only that it was big, and white. Took up the entire shot, couldn’t really make heads or tails of it. But I truly believe it was the monster.”

“Well, can’t stop believing I suppose,” Indigo shrugged. “As Twilight was ever so keen to remind me, we know more about space than we do our own waters.”

“Ah yes… Twilight.” Juniper sighed sadly.

“Something wrong?” Indigo had to ask out of concern, even though she very well knew the answer.

“It’s just… well, for the longest time now, ever since that little incident at my uncle’s film studio with the Daring Do movie, and then what happened next with me turning into this giant monster, everybody except for Twilight and now you girls know me as this bitchy and spiteful little girl willing to sabotage a high-budget flick just for my time in the spotlight. Played with fire, and I got burned.”

“And by fire, I assume you mean Equestrian magic right?” Indigo asked, and Juniper looked at her in shock, sapphire eyes widened.

“How did you…?”

“Let’s just say I’ve had some experience with the stuff as well,” Indigo replied.

“You didn’t…?” Juniper trailed off.

“Turn into some sort of she-demon? No, I didn’t, but Twilight herself did. You’d have to ask her for the shameful details of the whole sordid affair,” Indigo sighed to herself. “But you didn’t know what you’d gotten your hands on, right? Didn’t know what would happen?”

“That’s the thing, I did sorta have a guess at what I’d stumbled upon with that damned mirror,” Juniper grumbled shamefully. “And I didn’t care about what happened next, all I ever wanted was for everyone’s attentions to be on me for a change, not my uncle! I was an idiot, pure and simple.”

“Hey, quality over quantity, right?” Indigo signed, smiling reassuringly and patting Juniper on the shoulder.

“Yeah, I suppose…” Juniper replied, before her eyes caught wind of something. “Hey, what’s that?” she asked, pointing to this really odd bright blue glow in front of them and began swimming towards it.

“Juniper, wait!” Indigo wanted to shout, but growled in frustration and swam after her. Her eyes were soon to widen in shock at what she saw next. Laying in front of her, was this massive metallic form, coated in bronze paint and unquestionably Cybertronian in design. It was mostly devoid of features, so it was impossible to tell what it would have turned into when it was alive, but what was laying next to it giving off the glow was even more curious in nature. Massive crystals, humming and glowing with some ethereal, otherworldly energy. Pure, raw energon.

“Is that… is that a giant robot?” Juniper signed, her eyes blinking in abject shock. She was so stunned, she failed to see Indigo pull out two bracers, and click them together like some sort of Sentai heroine and turn into a gray and silver armored warrior with hints of blue.

“W-What the…?” Juniper asked, before noticing the eyes the robot had. They were the same shade as Indigo’s. The exact same shade. “Indigo, that you?”

Her only answer was a small nod, and then Indigo opened up her wrist gauntlets to open a transmission to the Autobase.

“Perceptor, you getting these readings?” she asked. “And I said there was nothing down here…” she thought to herself, chuckling in amusement.

“Yes, quite,” Perceptor replied. “Don’t believe it, pure unrefined energon Crystals on this planet, and a faint Cybertronian life signal as well!”

“Faint, as in you mean he’s still… alive?” Indigo asked in fear.

“Not him, but I can’t…” Perceptor trailed off. “Indigo, you and your friend. You need to get out of there now! Something’s coming, and something’s coming fast!”

Sure enough, shooting through the water ahead of them was this massive white form, serpentine in nature resembling this legless and whiskerless Asian dragon with spines on his/her back.

“Move, now!” Indigo shouted, as the serpent let out a practically ear-splitting shriek of pure undiluted rage. Then, its throat glowed a very bright blue as something hummed and charged up, before it fired a blast of pure blue energy from its jaws...

Author's Note

Okay, so, for the most part, a breather chapter focusing on the girls, just letting them have a bit of fun for once. But, still had to advance the plot and so that's where the Energon Crystals and the Predacon (Yes, that's what our serpent-con is) at the end comes in. Originally, there was this scene with Onslaught himself planned, but I'm saving it for the next chapter, as again this one's supposed to mostly be a breather piece.

Now, Juniper Montage. Yes, I get that most of y'all hate her, but after reading a certain piece by Bookish Delight well I couldn't help but fall in love with her as a character. Same thing with me and Diamond Tiara, hated her in-show (Least till she reformed) but loved her fanfiction portrayals. So that's how she made it in.

Also, I have to give credit to something else. This article, which was the one twilight cited ii-story for musical communication. Fascinating read, really.

Anyways, as ever, comments, thoughts, and critique are welcomed.

Part 17: A Bigger Boat You Say?

The Darksyde

Massive metal heetstruts clanked against the dimly lit hallways and corridors of the Decepticon ship, Vehicons immediately moving to one side and saluting as soon as they saw exactly whom was coming their way.

“Yes, yes, I completely understand we’ve lost track of him,” another Decepticon tried to reassure his commander. Him, being Knock Out of course. “But you must understand, now that the Autobots have him, they’ve most likely got him in their base which I might add we’ve yet to find!”

Onslaught turned his crimson visor towards Steeljaw, who cowered below the massive Combaticon’s gaze, with the teal-blue enforcer pressing his fingers nervously together.

“And yet you’re a hunter, so go hunt!” Onslaught remarked, completely unamused by Steeljaw’s groveling.

“Yes, I quite understand Commander,” Steeljaw swallowed, nervously noting the two large cannons mounted on the massive Combaticon commander’s back.

“I gave you and your fellow Decepticons a simple plan to follow,” Onslaught noted, his faceplating an unreadable mask. “Are you telling me that you’re too incompetent to follow basic instructions,” the large bot leaned down, getting visor to visor with the smaller bot, “or are you trying to say there was something wrong with my strategy?”

“Nothing wrong with your strategy,” Steeljaw stated. “It’s just, Knock Out defecting and running back towards the Autobots and their awaiting claws was an unforeseen variable.”

Truthfully, Steeljaw didn’t even believe himself. Knock Out, he was always terrified of most of the other Decepticons onboard, save for a few like his Conjunx Endura Breakdown. It was only a matter of time before he grew a brain and ran for it. Privately, if it weren’t for Steeljaw’s own fear of Onslaught and his wrath -And, of course, Onslaught’s hunter known only as Darksteel- he would have made a break for it as well.

Onslaught grunted, straightening himself back up to his full, impressive height. “If I wanted excuses, I’d go to Starscream’s grave and talk to him! What I want from you are results, Steeljaw. If Knock Out has decided to go groveling to the Autobots, then you and your team need to smoke them out. Go, and prove that you can claim to be a proper Decepticon rather than a waste of circuits.”

“Y-Yes sir.” Steeljaw stated, bowing.

“And word to the wise,” Onslaught remarked. “Darksteel, he’s always hungry. Just because he hasn’t caught Knock Out yet, doesn’t mean I can’t feed him something else. Or someone else. Predacons, hungry bunch are they not?”

Steeljaw visibly shuddered, remembering when he’d caught a glimpse of Onslaught’s ‘pet’ who he’d decided to throw up against Brawl and a hoard of Vehicons just to see if Darksteel was worth the credits he’d paid for him. The end result was with Brawl in the medical wing with several burns and a missing arm, and the Vehicons a pile of molten scrap and slag metal. Knock Out had not been pleased with the work he’d been assigned that day, citing how hard it was to find new arms for Brawl’s body-type, complaining about it to no end.

“You remember where I found you, Steeljaw?” Onslaught asked. “You were just a simple thug for hire, on the run from both that bounty hunter Devcon and the Cybertronian Law Enforcement after Thunderhoof’s mob went belly-up. Am I right?”

Steeljaw nodded nervously, still remembering the distinctive sound of Devcon’s twin turbine engines and lasers.

“But, I see something in you,” Onslaught started, putting a hand on Steeljaw’s shoulder. “A bit of potential maybe? The potential to climb the ranks of this army and not simply be at my beck and call. But for that to happen, you have to complete your mission. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Commander,” Steeljaw nodded. He inwardly grimaced, wondering what his brothers Gekisoumaru and Drift would be thinking of him now, an enforcer for hire working for a former Autobot Elite Guardsman turned Decepticon war criminal and terrorist.

“Good. Then you are dismissed. If I formulate a new plan, I will send a message to you.”

Steeljaw nodded, before transforming with parts shifting and moving as he turned into a massive armored Terradyne LAPV and driving off down the corridor. Onslaught then pulled one of the two rifles off his back and pointed it into the shadows of one of the corridors, where Flamewar was slinking out of the darkness uncloaking herself. The fembot had an amused smirk on her face.

“Well, aren’t you quick on the draw?” she remarked. “Long gun barrel. People might start to talk, think you’re overcompensating for something…” she said, gently nudging the rifle’s barrel away from her face with a finger.

Snorting, Onslaught reholstered his rifle. “If it were any other bot that had made that crack, I would have shot them. So, any reason you’re slinking around while cloaked?”

“Well, you know perfectly well a gal has to keep in practice,” Flamewar replied in a seductive tone, a bit too close into Onslaught’s personal space than he would have liked. “Striking from the shadows, isn’t that what you brought me on for? Been a Hell of a lot more successful than the others pieces of slag you hired, considering both Road Rage and Prowl are well on their way to becoming berserkers before their Sparks finally blink out just like that,” she said, with a snap of her fingers.

“I don’t need to be reminded of that,” Onslaught grimaced, thinking of his subordinates. “It’s a wonder that I expect to get anything done with the bots I hired. But you’re not usually one to care about the goings on of the crew; why are you here? Trying to get something out of me?”

“Oh please, I could care less about that,” Flamewar replied dismissively. “Honestly, just wanted to warn you about Steeljaw. His brothers were Autobots you know, and yet you ask him to hunt them down alongside his brother’s childhood friend… Oh, what’s her name? It escapes me for the moment. Point being, that Corvicon and Steeljaw can’t be trusted farther than you could throw them.”

“Not a very good expression for your point,” Onslaught noted, flexing his fingers. “I am quite confident that I could throw them fairly far.”

“That's better, but don't let your imagination run away with you,” Flamewar remarked. “You’re hardly invincible. Pride goeth before the fall, as they say.”

“But, you do make an excellent point,” Onslaught noted. “If only I had the foresight to be testing Steeljaw. And I wish that I had given his second-in-command the order to slag the bastard the instant he seemed to turn traitor for those damned Autobots,” Onslaught drawled out sarcastically as Flamewar blinked in surprise. He waved his hand in the air. “But of course, I hadn’t considered that.”

“Oh, you are as good as they say…” Flamewar smirked devilishly before a thought came to her. “But what makes you so sure Flich -Now I remember her name!- will go through with it? I mean, if you give her a job, she’s likely to get distracted by the first shiny thing that catches her optics. Doesn’t have the Spark of a killer. A prostitute maybe, but a killer? I doubt that very much.” she remarked.

“I have some leverage over that trollop,” Onslaught assured, producing a small device with a receiver and one button on its surface. “And it promises to have explosive results.”

“Ah yes, you did tell me you had a few of those on board,” Flamewar remarked. “I saw the messy results of what happened when Triggerhappy got antsy and made a break for it. Or tried to anyway.”

“I will not make the same mistakes that the Decepticon leaders of the past did,” Onslaught stated, his faceplate hardening as he put the device away. “If that means that a few runners become molten scrap for Swindle to mop up, then so be it.”

“Well, you’re sure confident in yourself,” Flamewar noted. “But, anyways, the real reason I’m here. Something weird just popped up on the Darksyde’s sensors. Some sort of energy reading along Maine’s coastlines. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was Cybertronian in nature. But we’re the first to visit this planet… aren’t we?” she asked, showing her commander a datapad and pointing to a spot on Maine’s coastline which was flashing a faint red color.

“Not entirely,” Onslaught corrected. “Forgive me for going off on a history lesson, but when I was in the Elite Guard, I learned a few things. One of which was, long before this untimely demise via the hands of both Autobot and Decepticon forces, Shockwave was experimenting with cloning extinct species. And I have reason to believe he… succeeded. Throughout human myths, ancient beasts like winged serpents and ghostly hounds have popped up. I believe these to be the results of Shockwave’s experiments. It was said, he sent them someplace far, someplace barren, when they grew too rowdy to control.” the Combaticon Commander explained. “How they’ve survived all these years without access to ready-made Energon, I have yet to understand but it right now seems to be the most likely solution to our signal. I’ll ready Darksteel to have a look around.”

Taunton Bay, Hancock County:

“Oh boy.” Indigo squeaked out as she saw the blue blast of pure energy head right for her and Juniper.

As both divers rolled to the left to avoid the flame, the creature let out a hiss as the blast cleaved a rock formation clean in half. While this happened Indigo caught wind of a distinctive symbol on the serpent’s forehead, an orange dragon’s head glimmering and glowing like a flame. Her eyes widened. A Predacon.

“...Well, always wanted to meet the Pocomoonshine Lake Monster,” Juniper remarked. “Just uh… not like this.”

She let out a yelp as Indigo grabbed her and pulled her away as the massive beast rocketed towards them like a torpedo or a missile, spines cutting through the water like knives, each crackling with electricity at the tip glowing a sharp blue.

“So, not just a massive dragon, but a massive electric eel as well,” Indigo thought as the Predacon swam around for another pass, throat beginning to glow blue once more. “Wonderful.”

As it came around, and readied another blast of flame, Indigo activated her suit’s transformation feature and turned into a large rifle, as Juniper stared wide-eyed in shock.

“Oh, she is so explaining this to me if we survive this!” the girl thought to herself as the blast fired, a stream of hot blue flame cutting through the water.

“Juniper, press my trigger, now!” Indigo barked out.

“You want me to WHAT!?!” Juniper gaped. “I really don’t think this is the time to-”

“The damn gun mode’s trigger!” Indigo shouted, and Juniper suddenly noticed a trigger resting at the bottom of the rifle, and reaching out with her hand, pulled it backwards. A blast fired out of the gun’s barrel, in an attempt to cancel out or at least slow down the flames rapidly speeding towards them.

Amazingly, it worked, with the two energy beams meeting in the middle and canceling each other out. The Predacon roared in rage, and Indigo transformed back.

“Move, now! I don’t think we want to stay in one place for very long with this one!” Indigo shouted.

“Okay, but you are so explaining this one to me girl!” Juniper signed at her.

“Long story short. Massive robots from another world fighting each other, and me and the girls just so happened to get caught up in their little squabble. That good enough for you?”

“...Good enough.” Juniper squeaked out as they swam as fast as their legs would allow, with the massive serpent in hot pursuit. Slithering and snaking through the water, the Predacon let out another roar of frustration.

“Perceptor, any idea why there’s this massive, and I do mean flippin’ massive sea snake, probably from your world trying to flambe us?” Indigo shouted into her wrist comms.

“A-A Predacon, on Earth? No, that’s impossible, the only ones we know of are Feral Steel, Sunder, Filch, and Darksteel! I never cataloged a fifth!”

“Well, might want to re-check!” Juniper shouted, as the two narrowly avoided another blast of flame.

“A-Another human?” Perceptor stuttered out in shock, and Indigo could practically imagine him rubbing his head in pain at this new unexpected variable. “Indigo, we have got to talk about secret keeping!”

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting to run into a giant robo-snake on a dive today, nor a pocket of Energon!” Indigo shouted in frustration as the Predacon rocketed past them, and tried to swipe at them with his/her tailfin. Indigo and Juniper narrowly avoided being smacked, hard into a rock wall, which ended up smashed by the sheer force of the tailfin swing. The fin ended up getting caught in the rubble, trapping the Predacon for the moment.

“Right, right,” Perceptor admitted. “Not sort of the thing anyone would predict. So, who’s the new friend?”

“Name’s Juniper Montage, you?” Juniper asked.

“Perceptor, greatest scientist of our time!” the Autobot exclaimed proudly, as if he was expecting a round of applause.

“...Wow. You certainly are humble, aren’t you?” Juniper replied flatly.

“You get multiple degrees from different universities amongst various other scientific awards and acknowledgment -Including a pat on the back from Alpha Trion himself!- back on Cybertron, and I’d think it’s pretty safe to say you can boast about it.” Perceptor said smugly.

“Less bragging, more information on this creep, m’kay?” Juniper snapped, quite fed up with all the crazy she could take today. She suddenly wished she’d stayed on her uncle’s crappy set in her crappy trailer.

“Okay, descriptions! I need descriptions! I need your eyes. Maybe I can narrow down the species you’ve got here,” Perceptor surmised. “I took a course on various Predacon species, so in theory I might be able to-”

“In theory, never a good phrase.” Indigo sighed, as she watched the thing roar in frustration as it tried to break loose.

“Okay, so it’s big, white, has a serpentine form and can breath big blasts of blue fire. That enough?” Juniper asked in irritantance.

“Not good enough, that’s pretty vague. Lots of Predacons that fit that description. Breathing fire alone… Whoo boy, you really don’t want to know how many can do that.” Perceptor muttered. “Any other details, things that stick out? Things that would narrow it down further?”

“Okay, looks like an Asian dragon, only legless and whiskerless and has electric spines. Massive ones, big ones, about four to eight feet tall. The entire creature, thirty feet in length.” Juniper rattled off before she noticed something else. Her keen eyes stemming from her career as a camerawoman did lend itself of some use. “Eyes are odd as well. One gold, and one crystal clear blue.”

“Okay, now that helps!” Perceptor cried in triumph, just as the Predacon finally broke free.

“Can you explain while we swim for our lives?” Indigo asked, as the chase resumed and they got closer to the bay shores, water darkening presumably as the sun went down. Soon, it would be pitch black and almost impossible to see. The spine tips and the Predacon badge glimmered quite fiercely now.

“Okay, what you’ve got here? It’s a wormozoid. Okay, yes I realize it doesn’t look like one from your perspective, but that’s the species name.” Perceptor explained. “Now, they don’t have the best of eyesight, with only one eye -The blue one- actually being able to see quite well. So, in theory, a sneak attack from the left should disable it. However, I should warn you, it’ll see you coming and these things, whip around quite fast.”

As Perceptor explained this, Indigo had tried to kick the creature in the left side, and as he’d predicted, the Predacon whipped around and slammed her into a boulder.

Juniper’s breathing began to speed up out of pure fear, seeing her new friend get her ass handed to her, but forced herself into a calmer state, knowing that she’d use up her already precariously low air supply.

“Somebody… help. Please.” she pleaded silently. Then, her prayers were answered, as something dark began cutting through the water, with a fearsome maw and massive teeth, the only things being bigger than that being the creature’s fins. Juniper’s eyes widened as she saw an impossibly huge great white come out of nowhere, and latch his jaws onto the Predacon’s left side, biting down with surely what had to be tremendous force. The Predacon roared out in rage, and smacked the shark in the side with its tail forcing the great white to release the now bleeding energon Predacon.

“Ugh, remind me never to try that again…” the shark… spoke? It was then revealed it wasn’t a shark at all, as it’s parts began to shift and change into a massive robot with a yellow faceplace, and a three-pronged claw substituting for his(?) right hand. He rubbed his forehead in pain with his actual hand. “Might be getting ahead of myself here, but… “The cobalt ocean roils
zephyrs blow cold,
and another hapless foe is crushed beneath my heel.” the shark sonnated, his own personal Senryū.

“A shark robot with a penchant for Japanese poetry. Okay, so transforming into a giant she-demon of a woman isn’t officially the weirdest thing to happen in my life.” Juniper thought.

“You know, there’s a human joke about sharks and needing a bigger boat, but considering I’m the shark in this scenario… well, don’t think it really works here.” the shark-bot remarked, as he got into a battle stance, and looked towards Juniper. “You, kid, get the scrap out of here. Me and Snaptrap here? We’ve got some business to resolve.”

“Business?” Juniper questioned, picking up Indigo in her arms, the armor covering the girl being surprisingly light.

“Yeah, being chasing him down for a fortnight. Disturbed the resting place of my sister, Scylla over there,” he said, pointing to the bronze robot near the crystal bed. For the first time, Juniper noted the robot bore tentacle six arms sprouting out of her back. “He needs to be taught a good, short sharp lesson I should think!” the robot explained, his claw arm spinning like a drill. “Name’s Sky-Byte by the way. You and your friend?”

“Name’s Juniper Montage, and that’s Indigo Zap,” Juniper replied, slightly nervous of the shark.

“Good names, now get moving!” Sky-Byte barked out. Juniper was all too keen to take his advice, as she saw the Predacon’s parts beginning to shift and change. The bottom half of the serpent became legs, with the top half becoming arms with the jaw taking the place of the right hand. Spines became shoulder armor, and a head popped out, and like the beast mode’s optics, it bore two unusual eyes. One crystal blue, the other gold, each glaring venomously at Sky-Byte.

“You… you interrupted my hunt.” it hissed out, in a metallic voice that would make Juniper’s skin crawl.

“I should hardly call hunting fleshlings a hunt, not really worthy of even a piecemeal. Besides, they’re not part of this.”

“You only give a damn,” Snaptrap hissed out, a forked tongue flickering out every so often. “Because I’m around, and I just so happened to violate your dear sister’s gravesite. Normally, you’d chase them off. Or rip them to shreds. Isn’t that right, ‘Thanatos’?” he asked, using the name the Greeks gave Sky-Byte, after seeing how much destruction and death the shark had dealt out in his younger years. The Predacon stiffened before he growled, showing his teeth.

“Face me, white serpent.
I'll drill justice into you,
For your grave misdeed.” Sky-Byte snarled, fangs still bared and Snaptrap only laughed harder.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Thanatos, the hunter! Now noble defender of the innocent!” he laughed.

Sky-Byte’s only response you might ask? A solid right cross to the jaw.

“Hardly a defender, make no mistake if I wasn’t so distracted by you, you violator, I would have ripped those fleshbags limb from limb,” Sky-Byte replied. “You remember, us Sharkticons? Very territorial.”

“Deny it all you want,” Snaptrap laughed as he slashed at Sky-Byte, striking him in the side with a blade and drawing energon. “But you’ve grown soft. You were, dare I say it, friendly to those two humans. I’ve always known you. Out of all of Shockwave’s clones, you’ve always been one of the noblest. You only kill when disturbed. You’d rather be left alone. Your legends, the ones the humans crafted around you. You remember what they said right?” he asked, striking Sky-Byte in the leg with his jaw arm, and biting down hard. “They always signified a peaceful death, never violent ones. I remember one time, this Predacon who was going to die via this deadly poison which was slowly killing her, you just ended her life via her request. Euthanasia, as it’s called.”

He was swiftly interrupted by a blast to the chest from Sky-Byte, who’d fired off an energy blast of his own from his torso.

“Okay,” Snaptrap, the phantom of the seas chuckled as he wiped away energon from his mouth. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you actually have some bite left in you after all. So, humans thought of you as a God right? Worshipped you even? That must mean you owe them some sort of favor, as I know Gods to be a very proud lot. Let’s see what happens with you and your demeanor when they… die.” he smirked, before with a swing of his arm knocked Sky-Byte into a rock wall and into unconsciousness.

With that, Snaptrap transformed back to beast mode with a loud shriek and swam up towards the surface spines glowing…

Meanwhile, Juniper finally breached the surface, and threw off her oxygen mask as she rushed up towards the girls. The group’s eyes widened, both on seeing Indigo’s beaten up state, and her in her Targetmaster armor.

“What the…?” Sour asked before muttering: “Well, there goes our little secret.” with a resigned slump of her shoulders.

“Tell me what happened to Indy, tell me!” Lemon shouted, grabbing Juniper by the shoulders and shaking her frantically, as Sugarcoat tossed a stopwatch to Juniper after pulling Lemon away. She’d felt Indigo’s heartbeat, and it was not beating. Probably due to the force of the shock. Facial plates were cracked, so she’d likely got in some water in her lungs as well.

“...That.” Juniper squeaked out pointing to the surface of the water, where a very distinctive spined form was cutting through it.

“Oh shit,” Trixie said in a soft -almost inaudible- tone, as she and Lemon readied themselves for battle and assumed their armored forms. Behind them, Feral dropped his disguise and Knock Out and Swordbreaker transformed.

“Thank God I took basic medical training back at CPA…” Sugarcoat murmured, thinking back.

“Stopwatch, now. Keep time,” she ordered and Juniper pressed down on the stopwatch before Sugarcoat turned back to her. “Okay, what we want is thirty chest compressions, four per second. Tilt head back, and two breathes.”

“Okay, got it!” Juniper nodded, and Sugarcoat continued to shout out orders.

“Elbows locked, full body weight on them, press hard down on breast bones,” she stated completely calm as she tried to get Indigo’s heart started again and hide her fear. What they were trying to do wasn’t forcing the water out of the lungs, it was to create pressure in the heart so that the blood would start moving in their body once again. The mouth to mouth, it would get air back into the lungs and filter into the blood. ...At least, that was the theory anyways.

Juniper took to this surprisingly quickly, and even as Snaptrap breached the surface eyes glinting with madness and fangs bared, he was met with laser fire from both Lemon and Trixie, who’d transformed into twin rifles for Swordbreaker. Knock Out had just switched his hands out for saw blades.

“Relax, I’m a medic, this won’t hurt a bit fish face.” he remarked, with a wily grin in spite of the circumstances. Feral was leading the rest of the girls to safety, out of harm’s way and out of the firing line of the battle that was about to unfold.

As Snaptrap lunged, he was knocked backwards by the laser fire from Swordbreaker along with a kick to the chest by Knock Out and onto the beach before he shifted forms to his robot mode and drew his blade.

Knock Out smirked when he noted the dent in the Predacon’s armor, and the energon slowly leaking onto the sand.

“Relax, a few patches here and there, and you’ll never notice,” the medic remarked. “Might want to do something about those eyes, very unsightly. Get it?” he laughed.

Snaptrap wasn’t amused. As blades clashed, and laserfire flew, Sunder flew over to Sugarcoat and Juniper, who were still trying to spur Indigo back to life.

“Allow me.” he beeped out, before giving her a great big shock of electricity, and the next thing anybody knew was Indigo shooting right up coughing up water.

“There there, get it all out of your system girl,” Sugarcoat sighed in relief, patting her firmly on the back to force more water out. “Thank God…”

“So, what’d I miss?” Indigo asked, before she saw the heavy metal war in front of her. “...Oh. Please tell me the others, along with Sky-Byte are safe!” she asked, remembering a vague face in the darkness before she lost consciousness.

“Feral’s led the girls away, but who’s…?” Sugarcoat trailed off in confusion. Her eyes widened, upon seeing Swordbreaker pinned to the ground by Snaptrap, serpent jaws around his neck. Knock Out tried to help, but was kicked backwards.

“Now is not the time for fear. That comes later.” Snaptrap whispered out softly, tightening his grip as Swordbreaker began to cough out energon.

Suddenly, a massive great white leaped out of the water, and in midair, transformed and grabbed ahold of Snaptrap by the head with a claw arm and pulled.

“This is for Scylla,” Sky-Byte said simply and ripped Snaptrap’s head clean off, blue energon flying upwards like a fountain as wires were ripped apart, and the now headless Predacon sparked a little before falling backwards and hitting the ground with a mighty resounding Clang! Thanatos, indeed.

“Your betrayal had hurt, and now I repay with the blue of your blood
I had warned you, not to betray my trust, and you take away Scylla
With your head gone from your spark, so does your tale…” Sky-Byte recited before whispering: “I’m sorry, brother.” to himself, going completely unheard.

“That’s Sky-Byte,” Juniper confirmed, wincing a little at the brutality of the death. Sure, Snaptrap probably deserved it, but… “Wow, just… wow. I’m surprised his spine didn’t come out as well.”

From the treeline, twin orange avian eyes observed the entire situation narrowing a little, before they vanished. They’d seen all they needed.

Once all the shock had stopped setting over two more (Maybe even more than that, if Scylla’s body was any evidence) unknown Predacons on Earth, and a stash of raw energon discovered, questions had to be asked.

“Alright, where’d you come from?” Perceptor asked, showing up via groundbridge once the whole affair was over. Chrysalis had managed to wrangle a few favors and get Snaptrap’s remains transferred out of the area via helicopter so no uncomfortable questions would be asked. She’d tried to do the same for Scylla, but an icy glare from Sky-Byte had resolved that notion quite quickly. He would give her a proper burial, not just leave her laying at the bottom of the bay.

“Been here quite a while, long before you and your kind ever bothered to come to this planet. The ancient Greeks called me Thanatos and the Hawaiians knew me as Kane-i-kokala. You’d be surprised on how many of your planet’s myths took shape just because of the Predacon species. Look up Quetzalcoatl and reports of winged serpents and other assorted UFOs sighted over South America sometime, why don’t you?” Sky-Byte remarked drollfully, rather annoyed by Perceptor’s questioning. He had better things to do than talk to curious and frankly rather irritating scientists. “That all you need?”

“I suppose, for now,” Perceptor admitted.

“Wait, wait!” Twilight stuttered out. “You’re saying all of Earth’s myths, are connected to Cybertron in some way?” she asked, about to faint.

“Yes, or were you not listening?” Sky-Byte asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Wow, and I thought Sugarcoat was bad…” Trixie thought to herself, smart enough not to voice this aloud for fear of angering the self-proclaimed ‘Death God’. Not that she would argue that title, seeing what Sky-Byte could do.

“I apologize for not making myself known to you sooner,” Sky-Byte continued. “But I suppose you can understand why I would want to be left alone.”

“Yes, quite,” Knock Out said. “Some bots just don’t work well in groups. You’re not the first loner I’ve met.”

“I wasn’t always like this. But that was before…” Sky-Byte trailed off, before thinking better of it and shaking his head. “No, I’ve said too much already. Now, if you excuse me, I must take my leave. I wish you good luck, Autobots, in capturing those who wish this planet harm.”

With that, he transformed and leaped off back into the bay, swimming out to sea as the moon began to rise high into the night sky.

“Think we’ll see him again?” Juniper asked in slight worry for the Sharkticon, feeling he shouldn’t be alone right now.

“Who’s to say?” Swordbreaker shrugged. “Bots like him, they’re nigh impossible to predict. He may return to us when we need him, or he may not.” he sighed, before looking directly at her. “Now, I suppose a lot of explanations are in order.”

“Look, I know how this works. The first rule of robot fight club is that you don't talk about robot fight club, okay?” Juniper replied before Swordbreaker looked at her pointedly.

“You’re in danger now. Snaptrap? You think he’s the only one of our kind who would wish you harm?” he asked. “Hardly. For your own protection, you’re coming back with us to base. At least until the heat dies down. Then we’ll let you go, back to your normal life as long as you swear never to tell another soul outside this circle of humans about what you’ve seen tonight.”

Juniper reached out to fistbump Swordbreaker, which he awkwardly returned. Poor ‘Bot wasn’t familiar with human customs at times. “I… I understand.” she nodded.

Author's Note

Okay yes, I know. Quite the bad joke with the title but I was out of ideas really. Okay, few things to note. The haikus. Give huge thanks to Magic Step and Fourshadow for writing them for me, as I can't write poetry for jack-shit. Magic was responsible for the second one Sky-Byte spouted off, the one about avenging his sister while Four was responsible for the third. First one, of course, comes from an episode of the original RID series.

Now, a few things about Snaptrap and Sky-Byte. Now, I took the idea of them and Predacons, in general, forming the basis of Earth's myths from the Prime series yes, but also from the story "Fire of Youth" by MiniKoontzy (Seriously, great writer that girl. Check her stuff out sometime, eh?) which blended myths and Cybertronians together masterfully. You should see what's been done to Ravage and how he's been reimagined.

Also, originally Snaptrap was going to be this robotic version of the Dazzling's equestrian form who turned into a train, but that idea got axed as soon as I realized he wouldn't make it beyond this chapter. Sky-Byte had this vehicle mode as well, a hydrofoil style speedboat.

Also, huge thanks to Thunderclap for helping me write out Onslaught's first major scene. Blended together Kamen Rider Eternal and Mesogog for his characterization.

(And yes, the images of various characters in the AN will be a thing now.)

Part 18: Into the Den of Serpents

Author's Note

Okay, so another good-sized length of a chapter. But a lot to cover, really from getting into the minds of Fowler, Steeljaw, and Howlback to covering the combiner bonds along with various other pieces of Worldbuilding. (Also, I give full credit to Minikootzy and her story Fire of Youth and it's three-part chapter focused on the Aztec gods for Steeljaw's scenes here.)

Part 18: Into the Den of Serpents

The Autobase

Howlback crept silently into the base, sticking to the shadows to go unnoticed. Now, her job was a simple one. Get in, get out and report back to Onslaught with any information she might have had. Mind you, she wasn’t going to say a word to Onslaught on where the Autobase was, as she wanted him captured. Trouble was, figuring out how to come up with a believable excuse that she’d conveniently ‘forgotten’ the location and not get slagged in the process.

“Yeah, great plan girl,” Howlback thought to herself as she slinked behind a computer console, and nearly let out a sound of fear as Perceptor walked over and began using it, bringing up the status of Road Rage and the progression of the virus in her system. She let out a sigh of relief and quickly regained her composure as Perceptor then turned to walk off and talk to Prowl about something. “Smart plan, real smart plan. By Lio’s spark, what was I thinking signing onto this job? I should have taken retirement early, really…”

Howlback fancied herself fairly proud that she was the first member of the Predacon race to be employed by the Cybertronian Government. She’d had to fight for her position really no thanks to some of the bigoted upper-class, but the Cybercat was a strong one and would not be swayed into giving up so easily. She’d clawed -sometimes literally- her way up the ranks, and now here she was, one of the Government’s best agents.

“By Sentinel Prime, how they laughed when they said a Predacon was going to be working for the Government. Too wild, and too uncontrollable, just something to be let loose when you needed someone killed.” Howlback thought to herself. “Granted, yes, I have had to preform some rather… messy assassinations in the past, but they were all to renegade Cybertronians who would not keep the peace, and insist on bringing back the old Decepticon ways. Hell, I put down a member of the DJD, Vos I think it was, for crying out loud!”

Howlback was well aware of the irony in swearing by Sentinel Prime’s spark. Back before the war and when first started up, Sentinel Prime was a known bigot. He, in the end was known to have gone down as a hero facing down the mighty Deathsaurus in his Apex Armor allowing for the rise of Optimus Prime but the truth was far uglier. Before that, he hated anyone who was not a ‘natural’ Cybertronian or anyone who brought disorder to the planet. That meant Predacons and Decepticons alike found themselves exterminated by the Cybertronian Security Forces.

In fact, Sentinel was only succeeded by his predecessor Nominus Prime in terms of pure madness and bringing disgrace to the title of Prime. Nominus, he had this caste system type crap going on for him. In Nominus’s deluded mind, whatever alt-mode you were born with, it led you to being assigned a job based on that alt mode. Say for example, you got a drill for an alt mode. Meant you worked in the Energon Mines. This was something that originally led to the rise of Megatron’s ideals, and although successful in the end it led to a bloody war that even in the end, Megatron himself admitted was unneeded.

He’d famously said: “Because in the final analysis, I would happily wade across a river of corpses, chest-deep in rust and grease and engine oil, just to crush the spark of the last Autobot standing. And I would not do so simply as a means to an end. No. I'd do it, Prime, because it would give me pleasure. And the thing is, when those words were in my head I didn't think I meant them; but when they left my mouth, I realized that I did. If the world thinks you're a monster, what does it matter? The world is wrong. But when you start to think of yourself as a monster…”

And that’s when he’d formed the famous peace treaty with Optimus to end the war seeing what Cybertron had become, a mere shadow of its former glory.

Howlback’s ears perked up at about that moment, hearing a snippet of conversation between Hound and Prowl.

“So, everything set?” Prowl asked, arms crossed.

“Yeah, worked out a few bugs in the Knock Out hologram’s interface, shouldn’t fritz out on us now like it has the last few times. All in all, Flamewar should be completely fooled. Barring any unforeseen complications…”

“...Like the ones we seem to run into all the time?” Prowl questioned, an eyebrow raised.

“Yes those, but barring those we should do fine. Hey, speaking of Knock Out,” Hound remarked. “You know, he did a good job the other day, protecting those kids from that Predacon. Might think of increasing his leash a little further, no? Let him have just that bit more freedom, I’d say he’s earned it.”

“Interesting…” Howlback thought. She hadn’t been privy to this little development, Knock Out now being in the custody of the Autobots and the Autobots planning to trick Flamewar. Gears started turning in her head, and the basics of an idea began to form. This… This she could do something with. Just required the right amount of crazy and cunning, of which Howlback knew she had in spades.

“I’ll think on it. In the meantime, I’ve got to ready my audio receptors for the verbal blasting Fowler’s liable to give all of us for nearly getting Indigo killed by that ‘Con.”

Hound smiled in sympathy, and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve had Spitfire head him off. She’ll handle things, talk sense into him. You just take it easy and worry about Flamewar. She’s the main issue right now.”

“Thanks Hound. Don’t know if I’ve ever said this to you, but you’re a valuable soldier, and friend.” Prowl replied, giving perhaps one of the first real smiles Hound had ever seen him give.

“It’s never been needed, I’ve always known old friend.” Hound said, before walking off.

One of the few things that was able to be saved from the Axalon aside from some computer consoles and the CR chambers -And even they were still mostly non-operational and a full-time job to get back online- were the holding cells. That’s where Knock Out found himself right now. He shouldn’t have expected any less, considering he was after all, a fugitive from the law. He honestly didn’t blame any of the Autobots for not trusting him. Slag, considering the evidence packed against him, if he were investigating the case from an outsider’s perspective he wouldn’t have believed himself innocent for a second.

He didn’t judge. He was well looked after, provided fresh energon every day every few hours or so, and let out to socialize given he was on good behavior. Even had access to the television, so he could catch up human horror flicks. It was a passion of his, even if he didn’t know quite why. Maybe it was just because of how astoundingly spark-rendingly stupid some of the humans in the films were, and he wasn’t talking about the bad acting. Seriously, if you were going to go interface, don’t go and do it off alone in the woods where any number of things could get you, serial killers aside!

He, upon hearing the sounds of paws padding against the metal flooring looked up from his TV screen, where some guy with a chainsaw was getting to work on his latest victim. Outside the energy bars of his cell, he saw this dark blue jaguar roaming the hallways, a Decepticon symbol adorning her sides.

“Oh, someone has interesting tastes,” the Jaguar remarked. “Didn’t know you were into Torture Porn. Kinky. Personally, I’m into BDSM myself, but to each his own…” she trailed off, throwing Knock Out off guard for a couple of moments and leaving him sputtering. Eventually, he regained his bearings long enough to speak his mind.

“I’m sorry, didn’t realize the Autobots had captured another one,” Knock Out remarked, and the Jaguar actually threw back her head and laughed.

“Oh, they didn’t capture me. Fact is, they don’t even know I’m here,” Howlback remarked, licking one of her paws like a real cat would. “Now, just wanted to check up on you, make sure the Autobots were treating you as well as I would hope they are. So, see you managed to wrangle yourself a deal,” she remarked, noting the tracking anklet. “Who’s your handler?”

“Road Rage, at least while I’m on base.”

Howlback actually threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, now that is hilarious, considering who her fiance was,” she remarked. “Got to give Prowl credit though. She can’t kill you, or she’d face trial herself. Mind you, I know and I suspect anyone with a brain would know deep down you’re innocent of the crimes of which you’ve been accused.”

“Alright then, if you know I’m innocent, how come you can’t just get me out of this damned predicament?” Knock Out growled.

“Ooh, feisty,” Howlback said. “I’d like to, honestly I’d love to help but I don’t have any real proof. More like circumstantial evidence, such as you only just standing over Red Alert, and no actual camera footage of you doing the deed. Now, you must understand my position, right?”

“You haven’t even told me what your position is!” Knock Out shouted.

“Alright, alright. Double agent for the Cybertronian Government, and Onslaught’s crew. Like to keep to the shadows, that’s why you never see me around the Darksyde. Supposed to report back to Onslaught soon on recent developme-”

“Hold up, if you’re here, does that mean you know where the Autobase is?” Knock Out interrupted, with more than a tinge of fear creeping into his tone.

“Well, sorta, but obviously, I’m not going to just feed Onslaught the right info, and bring him and the rest of his army right down on your and everyone else’s heads!” Howlback scoffed, giving Knock Out a look as if asking if she was that stupid or uncaring. “Could say I got knocked out, made everything a bit of a daze,” Howlback shrugged, and pressed her paw to the keypad and unlocked the cell. “I think you can see where this is going, right?”

“Wait, so you want me to punch you? A femme. And then leave you lying in the middle of the hallway for everyone to see? Sorta goes against both my beliefs, and your super-secret agent status, right?” Knock Out questioned. Once again, Howlback threw back her head and laughed. How nobody had heard her by this point, it was beyond him.

“Eh, relax,” Howlback said, waving a paw dismissively. “Have some systems installed, that as soon as I go into stasis lock, I’m teleported back to the Darksyde via my own personal groundbridge. Being a member of the Cybertronian Secret Police, gets you all the good perks. Now hit me with your best shot, big boy…” she smirked, with a trace of seductiveness in her tone.

Knock Out looked hesitant as he approached, eyeing the security cameras. Him being seen doing this, would not look good on him in the eyes of his carers. Needless to say, he didn’t want to wind up in any more trouble than he already was in. Not to mention, lose access to his beloved human horror films! Seriously, he couldn’t live without them!

“Oh, those little ole things?” Howlback asked, taking on a faux southern belle accent for a moment. “Relax, shut them off as soon as I entered the room. Like I said, you get all the good toys when you’re in my position. Really, you should consider signing up, pays well really. Then again, knowing you, you’d probably decline in fear of getting your precious finish scratched.”

Knock Out then noted the normally green lights were now red. He shrugged, and drew back his fist and then punched the Decepticon, sending her flying back into a wall and as she smacked into it, almost at once she teleported off to presumably the Decepticon ship. Knock Out blinked in shock, before settling himself back down into his berth before groaning as he saw the TV.

“Slag. Just missed the good part!” he muttered to himself shaking his head. “I could really grow to loathe that cat…”

“Hey Knock Out, you there?” a very familiar and very welcome voice indeed asked. Knock Out smiled, his sparkmate and fellow gestalt member Breakdown. Now, all members of Combiner Teams, they had this sorta telepathic bond really, it was hard to explain. It was a side-effect of being bonded so closely, with the only thing even more intimate being the bonds of either a Conjunx Endura or an Amica Endura. Allowed Transformers to share each other’s thoughts, and even see through their partner’s eyes, though only with explicit permission. That was why Breakdown was currently poking and prodding at Knock Out’s mind, asking for him to open the door if you will.

“Yeah, I’m here. So, just wanted to talk, maybe share a few naughty selfies?” Knock Out teased. Breakdown laughed nervously.

“If it were only that. I just wanted to see how you were doing, after I heard you got captured by the Autobots, I got… concerned. We haven’t spoken in days, and I thought they’d executed you already!’

“One,” Knock Out corrected. “I gave myself up freely, and two, you know as perfectly well as I do that if I’d gone offline, you’d feel it in your spark.”

“Sorry Knock,” Breakdown sighed. “You know how paranoid I get. Been trying to work through it, but…”

“Yeah, I understand,” Knock Out nodded in sympathy. “Hey, that Dead End being asked to be let into our little conversation?” he asked, hearing a crack of thunder in the background somewhere, and rain pounding on a windscreen making him curious. “Say, where are you guys anyways?”

“South America. Grimwing followed that Sky-Byte fellow, and so he got wind of where this human god, -Called Quetzalcoatl in the human tongue- likely to be a Predacon resides. Some old temple -Templo Mayor, I think it’s called- not even a few miles from here. Imagine, a Predacon smack-dab in the middle of Mexico City and nobody even notices!” Breakdown laughed. “And yeah, that’s Dead End. Been badgering me all weekend to try and see if you were still alive, or had gone to the great scrapyard in the sky as he put it. As you can imagine, didn’t help my paranoia any.”

“Yeah, I would think not,” Knock Out sighed. “Agh, let him in. Maybe it’ll shut him up about his doomsday prophecies for a few days knowing I haven’t been executed.”

For just a moment, Knock Out got a look through Breakdown’s eyes, seeing this massive structure in front of him, rain pounding down on the Lamborghini's windscreen as a jagged flash of lightning lit up the sky and thunder rolled. To the left side of him was Steeljaw in his massive LAPV vehicle mode, and to the right side was Dead End in his maroon and gold pinstriped Ferrari 458 Italia mode.

Trees in the nearby jungled swayed in the howling winds, and another flash of lightning lit up the temple completely, allowing Breakdown (And Knock Out) to see it in all it’s glory. A stepped pyramid style temple, (Typical of the mesoamerican age) rising high into the night sky, with four serpent heads at each corner.

“So, you’re still alive, awaiting to see the day when Unicron comes to call and eats us all alive.” Dead End drolled. Knock Out sighed, now he remembered why he really didn’t like talking to the ‘Con. “Nice to know. Want to see us get eaten alive in a horrible manner by some giant winged snake god?”

“I’ll pass, thank you,” Knock Out replied flatly. “Also, pretty sure Unicorn’s just a legend for parents to tell their Sparklings to behave or just some campfire story really. He doesn’t exist, and he never will exist. Simple as that.”

“And you have proof of that…?” Dead End asked.

“No, but I prefer to believe in what I see with my own two optics. So unless Unicron himself comes waltzing up to me ready to ferry off my damned soul, I will not believe in him.”

Another crack of thunder.

“Y-You hear that?” Dead End stuttered out. “That’s the sound of blasphemy! That was Unicorn himself getting angry at you not believing in his existence!”

“Oh please, give me a break…” Knock Out sighed, rolling his eyes. “Look, the humans believed in Gods as you are finding out right about now, and all they turned out be were normal Cybertronians like you or I. I’m simply saying, that if Unicron did ever exist, he was probably just like us, no devil-like figure or anything.”

Dead End sighed, knowing his fellow Stunticon would never be swayed on this matter and transformed to robot mode alongside Breakdown and Steeljaw. None of them considered themselves mythology buffs in the slightest, but Steeljaw was the smartest of them, remembering what Onslaught had told him and the other two about Quetzalcoatl in his myths.

Needless to say, he wasn’t keen on meeting him. He just wanted to find the damned beast, get in, and get out with it in tow and a new addition to the Decepticon ranks. Actually, that was a lie. He wanted to put the creature down, just to spare himself from chancing getting mauled someday soon in the future, and more importantly anyone else from falling victim to a Predacon’s jaws. Although, now that he thought of it, Onslaught attempting to control what was basically a god and getting slaughtered for it was an amusing thought.

Now, to the Maya, the creature was known as Kukulkan, and to the Aztec it was Quetzalcoatl. In both versions of the story, it was a powerful winged serpent hailing from the stars. Curiously, it was a wind deity and a creature of learning. So, although violent to a fault, maybe that meant it was intelligent and could be reasoned with? But what struck Steeljaw curiouser still, was a few other cultures around the region worshipping the same monster? No way this was a coincidence. No, it was more likely, and as much as he hated to even entertain the thought, there were more than one of these beasts.

Each iteration of the beast was slightly different in aspect, but all bore more or less the same basic characteristics. It was powerful, and it flew and it had the nastiest temper this side or Hydrus Four.

“Reminds you a bit of the hunting parties for Turbofoxes Mirage used to take us on back on Animatron, the so-called Jungle Planet, right?” Filch remarked from somewhere overhead in the clouds. “Oh, those were the days, just you, me, him, and that brother of yours, Gekisoumaru.”

“Yeah, I remember…” Steeljaw mused. “Mind you, no acid spitting dogs or the like, but humidity’s about the same. Doing wonders to my insides! I’m going to have to take a bath in a CR Chamber after this!”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll join you…” Flich teased, with that phone-sex murmur she dared to call a voice that made Steeljaw’s faceplates blush a bright red. He was so thankful neither Dead End nor Breakdown could see this.

“Oh, oh!” Dead End shouted. “Rader’s picking something up, going crazy. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we’re standing right on top of our little quarry!”

“Ground scanners… Yeah, they’re penetrating alright,” Breakdown agreed, switching one of his hands out for a drill. “Miles of tunnels right beneath our feet. And I doubt the ancient humans could build them.”

They set about searching, for any sort of clue that would lead them to an underground tunnel to the beasts and their lair. For an upwards of about a half of an hour, there was nothing to be found till a shout rang out from Dead End.

“Hey, come have a look at this!” he shouted, gesturing to a fallen pillar. It was very old, that much was certain, and an Aztec style Decepticon Symbol had been carved into it. Steeljaw allowed himself a smirk, their first real clue.

“Well well, leave it to the old cyclops to hide something in plain sight,” Steeljaw chuckled to himself. “Logical? More like predictable in my mind.”

He pressed down on the crest, and the groaning of ancient gears opened up a deep yawning abyss right in front of them. Picking up a rock, Steeljaw tossed it and waited to hear it hit the ground. After a few minutes, he heard it hitting… something. Something metallic.

Dead End, Steeljaw, and Breakdown all wisely backed up, fearing they’d awoken something very ancient, something very powerful and something very angry.

After a few moments of tense waiting, nothing happened. “Well, looks like whatever it was, it’s a deep sleeping. Boys, grab your grappling hooks and prepare to descend,” Steeljaw barked out.

“H-Hey Steeljaw,” Flich piped up, nervously circling above them in her jet form. “J-Just be careful. I don’t want you to be swallowed up by some ancient death god okay?”

“I’ll be fine, if anything I’ll just throw Dead End to the thing instead,” Steeljaw joked. “He’d probably like that.”

Dead End made a face, idly considering the possibility. He admitted it was an interesting prospect. Probably a quick if not brutal death to be sure. Probably a better one than he’d endure by Unicron’s hands.

“Har har,” Filch laughed, not amused in the slightest. “Very funny.”

“Okay, so what we got here boys,” Breakdown piped up. “Is what’s called a cenote. Advanced as they were, the Mayans did have a penchant for human sacrifice.”

“Lovely to know,” Steeljaw deadpanned. “Any other utterly fascinating trivia?”

“Well, actually-”

“Save it, don’t want to hear it. I was being sarcastic, you dunce.” Steeljaw groaned as the three rappelled into the sinkhole.

“Just asking here, but what if we do find one of our snake guys in here?” Dead End had to ask, as the darkness of the hole threatened to consume them. “I mean what, should we hope and pray to Primus for our souls to be saved?”

“No, we bargain,” Steeljaw said. “We talk, get ourselves to seem like less of an interesting prospect for a meal.”

They finally reached the bottom of the cenote after a few minutes, and turned on their various vehicular modes’ headlights. A small lake was in front of them, but that wasn’t all. No, there just so happened to be this dark green scaled snake, with crimson red wings. A massive door rested beyond, and despite the humidity, Steeljaw shivered. He had to wonder, was that built to keep something out… or something in? Whatever the case, he had half a mind to turn back now and run. He got the feeling he was somewhere he definitely shouldn’t have been.

“...Yeah, might want to start thinking of how to bargain soon.” Breakdown noted.

Steeljaw noted the various carvings on the walls, some of which looked to be man-made. This could connect with his currently working theory that the snake was friendly in some format, and protected those who showed it great respect, and was only violently territorial. There was a chance, a small one mind you, that they could live to see the next sunrise.

“Let’s just take this thing slow, and wake it up… carefully. I don’t think even Onslaught, or slag, Bruticus could take this thing on if it went online and got rather cheesed off at us for doing so.” Dead End mused.

“Uh yeah, might not have to worry about that,” Breakdown remarked, running his scanners along the beast. “To quote a certain TV doctor, he’s dead Jim,” he said, drawing a light glyph in midair with a finger that was meant as respect for the deceased.

Steeljaw quirked an eyebrow, he had no idea Breakdown watched human TV shows. But then his mind registered what Breakdown had just said.

“Wait, what do you mean he’s dead? How could have it…?” Steeljaw trailed off, shuddering at the monster’s perpetual stare.

“Well, got a guess and it ain’t pretty,” Breakdown replied. “He was sealed up in here, probably for Primus knows how long and Primus only knows why but my best guess? Burned up his own internal energy reserves.”

“Poor bastard starved to death,” Dead End muttered, shaking his head. “Not the way I’d want to go out. What’s that old saying? Oh yes, now I remember. “When a Spark goes online, there is great joy. When one is extinguished, the universe weeps,” he said, shutting the eyelids of the once great beast.

But something didn’t line up. These carvings on the wall, they didn’t match up with the age of the beast, who seemed to have been dead for a while now. Actually, come to think of it, the carvings didn’t look man-made at all. In fact, they almost looked…

“...Cybertronian.” Steeljaw whispered, and slowly but surely the great door behind Kukulkan or whoever he might have been in life opened and out stepped a figure, awash with color and holding one very dangerous looking sword.

“Ahora quién eres y por qué has profanado la tumba de mi hermano Skyquake. Habla ahora, o serás silenciado por siempre.” Quetzalcoatl spoke.

Back at the Autobase, in Fowler’s personal office the former Army Ranger found himself in a… mood. He’d heard about what happened down at the Bay, with Snaptrap, Sky-Byte and Indigo. More specifically, how Indigo had almost drowned no thanks to Snaptrap.

Swearing, Fowler punched the wall, nearly knocking off his desk lamp from the sheer force of the blow.

His thoughts were a turmoil. On one hand, he had Robots risking everything and laying themselves on the line for his family members…

“Fuel line’s been breached, you three need to get going now!” Knock Out stated quickly, without hesitation. “Be careful with the woman, spinal fractures. She needs proper medical treatment, like yesterday!”

“E-Excuse me?” Fowler barked out as he began moving the woman to his own car. “Me, take orders from a Con?”

“No, take orders from a medic,” Knock Out replied. He’d also noted the way Fowler was carrying the woman, and how he held her tighter than should have been normal for any random person just stopping to help. He also noted that Sunny was casting nervous glances at the woman every now and then. “Now get in!” he barked, even as he transformed back into vehicle mode, and both of his doors opened.

Fowler and Sunny shared a brief look, and then a look back at the trashed car and the fuel leaking from it with electrical lines dangling dangerously above it and beginning to spark. Then, they made their choice.

Fowler, as he wrapped gauze around the woman’s neck handed her over to Sunny as he took the driver’s seat.

“Floor it!” he yelled, and Knock Out didn’t even need to be told as his tires squealed and he peeled off into the distance just as a large fireball was visible in his rearview mirror.

“So… so what do you get out of this?” Sunny asked, her voice growing ever more dangerous with each passing moment even as she stroked the woman’s hair as she rested in her lap. Knock Out winced, he could see where she was definitely Fowler’s daughter. “I mean, aside from helping to clean up a mess you caused, Decepticon.”

“Honestly?” Knock Out mused, even as he drove up the road to Canterlot, his onboard navigation system set to the nearest hospital. “Absolutely nothing, I’m just doing the right thing.”

But then again, he had children caught up in a war they shouldn’t even be in. They should be worried about things like their grades, pimples, their love lives and not getting blasted to smithereens by stray laser fire or drowned by giant sea serpents. And to make things even worse, now he had a new charge to worry about in Juniper Montage.

“Goddamnit!” Fowler whispered quietly. “They… They shouldn’t have this burden placed upon them!”

A door softly opened, and Fowler didn’t bother to look up. He already knew who it was.

“You forget, you didn’t make this choice for them, neither did the Autobots. Those kids, they chose to get themselves involved of this of their own free will,” Spitfire reminded him. “I don’t like it either, but we can’t force them to just drop this. They want to help. And honestly, given what we’ve seen so far, with the Autobots’ forces as low as they are, they need all the help they can honestly get…”

“Suppose you have a point there…” Fowler admitted, remembering how the Decepticons’ forces seemed to be growing in number and power every passing day. God only knew how many Cons really did come to Earth, and now that they knew there were simply ancient Transformers on Earth with no real allegiances -The wild cards if you will- things just got ever more complicated. “B-But you have to forgive me for being concerned here,” Fowler whispered. “What if that had been my daughter that nearly died? It could have very well been!”

“Yeah…” Spitfire trailed off, rubbing Fowler’s shoulders. “We’re insects compared to those creatures, but this is our world as well. This is our fight. Soon as the Decepticons came to our planet, they made it our fight whether we liked it or not.”

“Yeah, our fight,” Fowler pointed out. “Not theirs. Not the kids. This is a matter that should be left to the adults, fully trained military men of the United States and whatever other countries the ‘Cons decide to invade and terrorize. Take Japan, for example. The ‘Cons raided a power plant there, so we know they won’t stop at the US. God only knows what their end game is, but whatever it is, Onslaught seems intent on involving the whole world in it.”

“And we will stop him, along with every one of his followers,” Spitfire stated firmly. “We fight, that’s all we can do. Just fight, and hope and pray everything will turn out alright in the end. You know, soon as we started this job, I didn’t like it either just seeing the Autobots as an unwanted pain in the neck and more paperwork. But now, they’re like family to me as I see them lay their lives on the line every day. Semper Fidelis. Always Loyal, Always Faithful. That’s how it goes. Never leave a man behind. I’d never leave one of them behind, would you?”

“No… No I wouldn’t. Much as I hate to admit it, they’re family now as well. Just for looking out for my daughter as best as they can. They’ve earned that much.” Fowler admitted, thinking of Prowl’s unwavering stance on bringing these criminals to justice. He had to admire that, never giving up or backing down even in his… condition. “They’ve helped us so many times, so I think it’s time we start giving back eh?”

“Believe me, way ahead of you on that line of thinking,” Spitfire smirked. “Next time the ‘Cons decide to call, they’ll have a surprise waiting for them. I have a few old contacts left, some in the army and some elsewhere. They want to mess with this planet? Well, they’ve got another think coming…”

Part 19: Nature of the Beast

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Part 20: Rage Against the Machine

Road Rage was mad. No, she was beyond that. She was pissed. And it sure as hell showed in her driving style, physically ramming two Vehicons out of the way not even giving mind to the damage the tactic dealt to her vehicle mode’s bodyframe. Tires squealing as they hit the pavement, horns honking and civilians rushing by, the freeway was the scene of chaos.

Fowler felt himself slammed back into his seat as Road Rage swerved in-between the various cars trying as hard as she could to avoid actually hitting any that weren’t Decepticon in origin.

She heard the distinctive sound of Flamewar’s engine from behind her, and let out a growl. She, she was responsible for this. She was responsible for Hound laying in a CR Chamber close to death being force-fed energon through tubes.

Smashing between the lane dividers making Fowler lurch his head forwards, she pulled up alongside Flamewar and tried to slam her into the side of a stone wall but the superbike only pulled ahead and left Road Rage smashing into the wall instead. The highway, it cut through hills and the valley curving and dipping every so often.

“Focus girl,” Fowler advised as he saw Road Rage’s speedometer go well over 120 miles an hour. “I’m as mad as you are, but the last thing I want is to explain to my superiors why a Corvette caused a massive traffic accident, and why I was behind the wheel of said Corvette!”

“Screw your superiors, and their damn Bureaucracy and any damn traffic laws,” Road Rage growled out in her anger as she resumed the chase. “That bitch needs to pay!”

“Look, that cure’s going to be no good to you or Prowl if you smash it up by slamming into everything and everyone,” Fowler advised, barely holding back the hamburger he’d had for lunch that day. “So keep your focus, and calm down. You’ve got two ‘Cons coming up from the rear, and coming fast.”

Road Rage, living well up to her codename checked her rearview, and confirmed Fowler was right. Two Vehicons, disguised as Cadillac Ciens were indeed coming up from behind and trying to box her in.

Road Rage, if she could have in her current mode would have smirked and let her foot off the gas so the two Vehicons could smash right into each other instead.

Another tried to ram her from the side but was smashed into a wall, and flipped upside down by the collision ending up in a huge fireball via Knock Out.

“Thought you cared so much about your finish?” Road Rage remarked.

“And see my handler get slagged? Nuh-uh, I think I can make an exception in this case,” the Aston Martin alt-moded Decepticon remarked in a slightly joking but mostly serious tone. A far cry from his usual self indeed. “I’ve got the cure, we just need to get out of range of these bozos and get a Groundbridge out of here,” he stated before going for comms. “Prowl, what’s your status?”

“I’m up ahead, getting in contact with local police forces and asking them to clear the freeway as much as they can. I don’t want any more lives lost today. Especially any human ones. Not a single one.” the Autobot stated.

“Much as I hate to break it to you,” Knock Out replied. “But that’s not going to be easy. Piss off or even endanger Flamewar, and you’re in a whole heaping of trouble. Congrats, you’ve done both. My guess is, Onslaught’s going to be sending either the rest of the Combaticons or his personal squad of Eradicons to back her up. Neither option is preferable. In either case, you’d best be ready for the fight of your lives.” he warned.

“No, they’d best be ready…” Road Rage growled. “If Hound’s dying today, I’m going to make sure it’s not in vain, and a few Decepticons join the Allspark along with him!”

Knock Out hmmed, before lowering his passenger side window and had his holodriver toss the cure to Road Rage, or more accurately Fowler. He trusted him more than her to keep it intact.

“No leaks, not one single dollop,” he stated seriously before the sound of Groundbridges opening reached his audio receptors. “Scrap, here they come…” the former Stunticon muttered.

Sure enough, Vehicons in the form of Local Motors Rally Fighters were appearing in their rearview.

“...Well, that’s a new one.” Road Rage muttered.

“By Abraham Lincoln’s Star Spangled britches…” Fowler murmured to himself. “...I really should have taken that job at the Pentagon like my boss General Bryce advised me to. Nice cushy desk job, and no risk of me being killed by Mad Max wannabes from space!”

“You think he’s talking about us or them?” Road Rage asked, as small miniguns popped up from the Eradicons’ hoods.

“Does it matter?” Knock Out asked as the sounds of click, click, brrrrrrrrt! started up as the guns began to fire. Fowler ducked his head to keep his brain from being splattered all over Road Rage’s now shattered windscreen.

Swerving left and right to avoid the shots, tires squealing out in protest the two Cybertronians continued playing their dangerous game of cat and mouse up and down the freeway.

From a nearby on-ramp, more Cien Vehicons as Fowler would decide to call them entered the battlefield.

“Going to be really hard to keep your guys under wraps after this…” Fowler muttered to himself. “Maybe I should say nerve gas from a terrorist attack causing mass delusions and hysteria, or someone’s filming a movie…”

Road Rage’s engine roared once more as she rammed a Vehicon head-on causing it to flip end over end several times before it landed on one of the Rally Fighters Eradicons behind Road Rage with the two Decepticons exploding in one huge fireball.

“Yep, movie. Michael Bay movie probably, this is sorta his thing really…” Fowler muttered to himself. “Big explosions, and inane stunts like this? Yep, out of one of his films.”

“Who’s Michael Bay?” Knock Out asked.

“Beats me, don’t care really,” Road Rage remarked in reply. “Prowl, best advice?”

“Get off the freeway at the nearest possible chance, take this cross country as the humans like to call it. Only ones that’ll be in danger then will be us, not the humans!” he ordered, and Road Rage took a sharp swerve to the left as she smashed through a guardrail with Knock Out following after her into the nearby fields with the Eradicons and Vehicons swift to follow.

“Fowler, any chance of a military assist?” Knock Out asked. “Like a bombing run or something?”

“Sure, let me just call them up on speedial!” he snapped. “Let’s get real, even if I had my phone on me and I didn’t leave it back at base, I’d have a Hell of a lot of explaining to do on why I just asked for some Skystrikers to bomb farm fields and blow up what looks to be civilian drivers!”

“...Good point.” Knock Out acknowledged. “Don’t have to like it, but good point.”

He saw Prowl finally join them, smashing through a wooden line of fencing, sirens at full blast and light bar flashing.

“Alright then, now that we’re out of the civilians way, we can really do some damage,” he remarked, as panels on his body opened up, and two small cannons emerged, both firing balls of electricity. Both hit Vehicons, shorting out systems, all of their wheels locking and seizing up and stopping them dead in their tracks. One hit a huge boulder, and went up in a massive fireball with parts flying everywhere.

“Yeah, now that’s more like it!” Road Rage shouted as she pulled a full 180-degree turn and two cannons popped out of her chassis, both firing plasma shots at the Vehicon/Eradicon death squad. Few shots hit and lit up the countryside for the most part, even as she drove backwards with Fowler’s eyes nearly bulging out of their skull at this madwoman’s driving skills. But eventually, Road Rage got her eye in and managed to eliminate most if not all of the remaining pursuers with Prowl’s help.

“...Yeah, definitely a Michael Bay movie.” He muttered to himself.

Knock Out then shouted “Look out, mad biker incoming!” as Flamewar leaped off a hillside and in mid-air transformed into bot mode and pulled out her bow. Road Rage pulled another 180 and slammed hard on the brakes, with Fowler lurching forwards once more.

“This is where you get out,” she said, with Fowler only too happy to oblige that order and finally tossing his cookies. As soon as that was over, he grabbed the cure and ran for cover behind some pine trees as the three Cybertronians transformed with the remaining Vehicons and Eradicons following.

“You know, after a long drive,” Knock Out said as he switched out both of his hands for buzzsaws. “It feels good to get out of the car, and kick some tailpipe!” he smirked.

“Gentlemen, would you be so kind as to stop their engines?” Flamewar asked mock sweetly as the Vehicons and Eradicons went for their weapons. “So, Road Rage is it? See you’ve got a little case of rage against the machine. So nice to see my virus works wonders!”

“You’re going to pay for that, and everything else you’ve done including killing Hound!” she snarled.

“Oh, was that his name?” Flamewar asked still in that mock sweet tone of hers. “Silly me. I’ve forgotten the names of how many I’ve killed.”

Road Rage let out another growl, bordering on a snarl of absolute fury.

“Easy Road Rage, don’t let her get to you,” Prowl advised, reaching for his pistol in hopes of firing off one single quick shot through Flamewar’s head. Sadly, it was not to be, as an arrow from her blasted it out of his hands.

“Oh, you’re such a bad boy…” she remarked. Fancy yourself a gunslinger eh?” Flamewar asked. “Well, my boys here would be happy to take you up on the challenge. Sadly, I cannot. As much as I’d love to stay and chat, I’ve got other things to do. And as much as I’d wish them to, none of them involve you at this current point in time. Ta-ta!” she said, before opening a Groundbridge and vanishing through it but not before leaving the order of: “Clean up the mess.” with narrowed eyebrows.

As soon as she’d left, the firing began. Road Rage pulled out a rifle, and weaved between trees avoiding the shots as they came and happily returning fire. They couldn’t risk a groundbridge of their own, not now with Fowler in danger and Decepticons all too happy to learn the location of their base.

Knock Out sliced and diced his way through the remaining squad members. Pinning one Vehicon to the ground, he smirked in an almost devilish manner. “Don’t worry, I’m a fully licensed surgeon. This won’t hurt a bit,” he said calmly, before decapitating the Vehicon in one quick movement, energon flying everywhere. This was about par for the course for the rest of the battle really, the rest of the Vehicons quickly falling to the Autobot weaponry.

Not even the Eradicons were safe, as Prowl had pulled out his Decepticon Hunter, changed it to a bo staff and was spinning it wildly deflecting shots in some cases sending them right back at the shooters themselves. Knock Out had gotten a similar idea, and had pulled out his electro staff and was spinning it wildly in a glow of blue light shoving it through Vehicon and Eradicon chests alike.

“Old shock and drop. Never fails,” he smirked.

“You know, keep that up and I may just begin to like it.” Road Rage sniped, as she sniped a Vehicon trying to come up at Knock Out from behind.

“What about me?”

“No, I still hate you,” she remarked.

“Au contraire, you’ll come around eventually… Everyone does.” Knock Out said with a wink and a smirk. Road Rage rolled her optics. Eventually, it was finally over and everyone Decepticon-aligned was in a smoking heap.

Of course, this battle had occupied so much of the foursome’s attention just trying to outmaneuver the Eradicons and stay alive they hadn’t noticed they’d had an observer. An old Toyota Hilux to be exact, parked atop a hillside.

The Hilux seemed to observe this mad dash across the fields and what resulted, almost if it were eyeing every player critically. It then pulled away, and drove off into the timberlands.

“So there are other Cybertronians on Earth… I knew it, I wasn’t seeing things!” the little Mini-Bot thought to herself as she thought back. She’d been in Japan, and had seen Hound, Prowl and even her old friend Swerve opening up a Groundbridge along with this human girl she hadn’t caught the name of, but she figured perhaps she’d been on Earth too long without contact from Cybertron and had just started imagining things. But now? Well, Smallfoot was only too happy to know she and the rest of the Van De Graaff’s crew weren’t alone on this planet after all.

The Autobase

Road Rage let out a small groan of pain as she felt the syringe needle pierce her plating but sighed in relief soon afterwards. She didn’t feel this terrible urge, this burning hatred to destroy everything in her path anymore like she had for the last few cycles, her T-Cog didn’t ache anymore every time she transformed. For the first time in a very long while, she felt… free.

Her face turned solemn as she turned to look towards Hound, all plugged up to all manners of machinery with tubes feeding vital energon from nearby containers. One massive tube, slowly rising and falling as it pumped energon was hooked up right to the hole in his chest, where Flamewar had shot him.

“Now, if only I could say the same for you old friend…” She sighed to herself as the Elite Guardswoman walked up to one of her oldest comrades in arms and stroked his faceplates tenderly before sitting down and fighting back a sob. “By Solus Prime, what are we supposed to tell Hot Rod, he’s going to want some answers!”

“I… I don’t know, honestly,” Perceptor muttered, shaking his head as he patted Road Rage on the shoulder sympathetically.

“The truth,” Prowl stated and everyone looked directly at him optics widened. “I don’t like it as much as you do, but he has the right to know. What are we supposed to do, hide it from him and say that his sparkmate’s alive and well, when it’s perfectly obvious he isn’t? Besides, Hot Rod, he’s already going to have felt it through his bond, that his Conjunx Endura’s lights are going out.”

“You… You have a point…” Perceptor muttered, even if he didn’t have to like said point. Breaking this sort of news was never easy for a medical bot. “I’ll… I’ll arrange a communique to Velocitron.”

Road Rage let out a snarl as she punched a cavern wall, cracking the stone beneath her fist. “And what, we’re supposed to just give up?” she barked. “Look, we may not have the best medical equipment but here we are, just telling ourselves to just pull Hound’s plug when we can save him if we just try a little fucking harder!”

Prowl sighed to himself, he always hated these sort of situations. What he had to say next would sound incredibly cold, sparkless even but looking at things logically there was only one possible course of action. “Look Road Rage, we have to face facts. Even if we didn’t pull the plug as you put it, Hound at best would be faced with a complete reformatting. If we did that, as soon as he emerged he wouldn’t be the same bot. He’d have a new frame, a new set of internal workings and most likely a completely new personality!”

“But he’d be alive, wouldn’t he?” Road Rage argued.

“There’s no way of getting around it, the old Hound would be gone forever no matter what we do. I… I think it’s best we let him die a peaceful death, instead of turning him inside out and changing his base workings completely. Look, I know it’s hard. By Primus, I know it is. I’ve seen far too many comrades lost to battle more times than I can count, but-”

“But nothing!” Road Rage barked. “I don’t want to just sit here and let one of my oldest friends die, and say I stood by and did nothing in my power to save him!”

“But what can you do to save him?” Prowl asked. “You’re not a medic, you’re not a Priest of Primus, you’re just a simple soldier like I am. If I could, Primus damn if I could, I would help Hound in any way I could! Slag, I’d throw him into a pool of Rarified Energon or Forestonite and watch it do its work! But we don’t have that luxury! We barely have enough medical materials around here to patch up minor wounds, much less save a dying Autobot!” Prowl yelled, one of the few times his carefully crafted mask of being this emotionless logical by the book cop dropping completely before he muttered: “Damn you Hound, just damn you. Why’d you have to be so reckless…?”

“No,” Road Rage snarled venomously, and for a moment Prowl backed away carefully as it looked as if Road Rage was about to punch him before she seemingly thought the better of it. “Damn you Prowl. Damn you to the Pit,” she muttered to herself, before starting to walk off, wanting to be alone with her thoughts.

“Solus Prime, I just got back in fighting condition, but the cost... ?” she thought, taking one last long look at Hound. Then there was a loud crash, and everyone turned and saw Indigo along with the rest of the Shadowbolts holding Lemon, who’d fainted dead away at the sight of Hound.

“H-Hound…?” Indigo whispered tearfully.

“Oh, slag…” Prowl muttered, and mentally prepared himself for the long conversation that was soon to follow. Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away from the Autobase, a very different type of conversation was taking place...

Mexico:

Groaning out in pain, Thunderclash found himself in a deep cavern, undoubtedly somewhere in the miles of tunnels below Templo Mayor and Mexico City itself. At one end of the cavern was the ruins of some old subway tunnel closed off and left to rot. Thunderclash vaguely remembered back in the 1930s or so that the humans living above had tried to create a system before discovering that the deeper they burrowed the more their precious city sunk into the ground and so the project was scrapped. Nobody, except for the occasional maintenance worker ever really came down her anymore, at least this section of the line and so it made a perfect hiding place for him. Humans feared him, and rightly so but that didn’t mean Thunderclash had to like it. Long ago, they worshipped him before fear of what he could do turned them against him, forcing him to flee from the very creatures he was supposed to protect.

He did help from the shadows, such as when humans got trapped by landslides due to flooding or lost in the wilderness he helped them to safe passage but they never remembered him and thought him a hallucination or a UFO. They’d stopped believing in Gods and monsters for the most part, and adapted to a new modern age where creatures like Quetzalcoatl and Kukulkan were merely myths, stories to tell and to entertain.

That still didn’t help explain any what he was doing here, did it?

“Easy, steady yourself,” came Steeljaw’s voice. “Took quite a beating from my ‘leader’. You need to rest. You were leaking energon quite badly. If Flich hadn’t patched you up as well as she did…”

“For that, you have my eternal gratitude, ‘Decepticon’ and fellow Predacon.” Thunderclash said, looking at Filch, who was using a welding kit to close up some of Thunderclash’s remaining wounds.

“Yes, well, anything to help my King,” Filch said briefly looking upwards from her task to face Thunderclash.

“A king it seems,” Thunderclash sighed in disgrace and self-disgust. “Who has been soundly dethroned. I was arrogant, believing I could rule here on Earth over some of the other Predacons in the real Predaking’s absence. In my hubris, I allowed myself to believe nobody could defeat me. And yet, in defending my brother’s remains I allowed myself to be defeated, thus stripping me of my honor.”

“But you were defending your brother’s tomb, keeping it from being defiled,” Filch replied. “Is that not the code of a real Predacon, loyalty to one’s own kin? We’re all clones of the original breed, and in a way, I suspect you wanting to rule over the Predacons was loyalty to your own brothers and sisters and keep them from killing each other. Like it or not, they need a ruler here on Earth. Snaptrap’s conflict with Scylla and Sky-Byte was proof alone of that.”

“So, what will you two do now? I do not think Onslaught takes deserters lightly,” Thunderclash asked.

“Believe me, if it weren’t for fear of that thing he had as a hunter, we would have deserted long ago,” Steeljaw replied.

“What… thing?” Thunderclash asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Darksteel, that beast you ever so kindly decapitated in your rage and fury against the defiling of your brother’s tomb,” Steeljaw replied. “I’ve seen Darksteel in action, in the Kaon Gladiatorial Arenas, fighting tooth and nail to prove his worth as a Predacon. Believe me, I still have nightmares to this very day about what I saw in those battles he waged…”

“Ladies and assorted Gentlebots, have we got a treat for you tonight!” Swindle’s distinctive voice shouted over a roaring and cheering crowd from up in his small box. Chained to his little Roman emperor style throne were two small Predacons, one a midnight blue panther and the other a black wolf creature. “Two beastly experiments from the mind of Shockwave himself, going head to head in a battle to the death!”

The doors on both side of the arena raised up, and the two titanic machines trudged into it, gathering roars and cheers from the crowd. One of which was much larger than the other bot, and made the match feel more like David and Goliath rather than a simple fight to the death.

“To my left, we have the titan of the pits of Chaar, the crusher of chassis, the mountain of metal himself, Infernocus!” He swung his arm to him, and he let out a deafening battle cry, garnering another wave of applause, the skull-like face on the Predacon grinning devilishly. Inwardly, Swindle hoped this match would go better than that last one, the one with the Cybercat Shockwave nicknamed Primal against that dragonbot Hun-Gurr. “And the bot either brave or foolish enough to face him, the one and only, the cybernetic shadow, the ghost that can only be described as Darksteel!” He swung the other arm out towards him, the dark blue and orange Predacon pulling out a double bladed axe with Infernocus drawing a huge metallic sword soaked in energon fluid.

“Trust me, little birdy, you’re WAY out of your league here.” Infernocus slid his hand over the blade, as if to clean the blood of his victims off of it. “Why don’t you just forfeit right now and save me the trouble?”

In the crowd, a teal blue bot watched the proceedings nervously, and hoped that little private transmission to Autobot high command got through. Brutes and clones they may have been, but this wasn’t entertainment or sport, this was just senseless violence on Swindle and Shockwave’s part. Evil without purpose or reason. For now, Steeljaw reasoned, he would have to sit back, watch, and hope.

Darksteel’s only answer was to let out a small growl and bare his fangs. “You’ve had too many victims fall to your blade, and I’m going to enjoy knocking that arrogance right out of you. Hopefully by returning the favor of so many of your decapitated victims. Blot, Sinnertwin, Budora,” he replied, gesturing to the headless bodies lying around the energon soaked arena. “This isn’t sport, this is bad comedy,” he stated before clenching his fist making it crackle with electricity and pointing the heads of his axe at Infernocus.

“Maybe bad comedy for you, but this is hilarious for me,” Infernocus leaned over the bot, his optics glowing a red-hot orange. “Look at how small you are. You’re no bigger than a Turbofox to me. I could flatten you with my foot alone and you’d still be a tiny, crumpled up speck on the arena floor.”

“Oh, that's intense. You know to be honest, seeing you do that would be quite the spectacle. But it looks like I'll have to choose Option B, knock that horned tiara of yours off your head, and then slice that head clean off and then what’s next? Oh, that’s where I bust out of this arena and go gallivanting off into the sunset.” Darksteel remarked with this smug, cocky little smirk on his faceplates.

“You cannot stop your destruction, or change my mind with simple boasting,” Infernocus remarked. “So, why fight it?”

“A, because you’re an asshole, and B, you’re an asshole. Reason enough.”

“Then you’ve made a grave mistake Darksteel, and I do mean grave in every sense of the word…” Infernocus smiled all the more devilishly, and Darksteel simply shrugged.

“Oh, Predacons make grave mistakes all the time. Mine just seem to actually end up working out,” he replied dismissively, still with that cocky smirk on his face before that smirk transformed into an expression of rage remembering why he was here, and what he was here to do. “But enough of this banter, are we going to fight like men… or like beasts?”

“Very well, then. But I promise you, you are NOT going to like this, little one.” Infernocus drew his blade and pointed the tip at Darksteel.

“Looks like our combatants are about to rip each other to shreds, so I’d better not keep them waiting!” Swindle swung one arm down in a knife-hand fashion. “Fight!”

Infernocus and Darksteel charged at each other, weapons out and ready to cut deep into one another. As they got closer to each other, they saw just how big and small their foes really were, as Darksteel soon found Infernocus blotting out the very sun above his head. Which, of course, made his sword look even more menacing as it swung up, and then down towards him.

With a shifting and whirring of parts, Darksteel transformed into his beast mode, a massive hippogriff covered in Cyberglyphics and opened up his beak. Throat glowing orange, he unleashed a stream of searing hot plasma right into Infernocus’ torso plating making him stagger back.

“Gah! Looks like you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve. But not enough to save you, I’m afraid.” He slammed the sword into the ground, causing it to crack beneath Darksteel’s very claws. Channeling energon through it, the cracks became electrified, creating miniature walls of lightning around him.

Darksteel picked up his axe, which had dropped during his transformation and swung it at one of Infernocus’ legs hoping to lop it off and topple the giant. Sadly, he only earned a kick to the stomach for his troubles; one that sent him straight into the arena walls as the crowd roared in approval. Steeljaw meanwhile just winced, he hoped the Autobots got here soon.

“Looks like Darksteel’s taking a beating out there. But that’s what you get when you fight the champ, ladies and gentlemen!” Swindle announced as Infernocus closed in for the kill. “It looks like another easy win for Infernocus!”

“By my fallen brothers…” Darksteel snarled out, each and every one of the glyphs etched on his body a tribute to fallen comrades. “I will make sure nobody else dies in this arena! Not now, not ever!” he stated, before letting out a loud ear-splitting screech and charging towards Infernocus, extending his wings and dodging a swing from the Predacon’s massive sword as he flew over it. He then grabbed onto Infernocus’s right arm with his claws, and then lunged forwards and bit down on it.

The metal around Infernocus’s arm was pierced, and another bite would have severed his servos. The crowd watched with interest as Darksteel continued to thrash and drive his fangs in again for a crippling hit, while Infernocus tried to swipe him away with the back of his free hand. Eventually, he did succeed and flung Darksteel into the stands as the crowd scattered.

“Yeah, not so fun anymore is it?” Steeljaw laughed as the Decepticons fled in terror. Darksteel meanwhile, just opened up his beak once more and fired another plasma blast at Infernocus. This time directly at his face.

“For those of you in the audience who had to run, there’s absolutely no refunds or compensation for what you just went through,” said Swindle. “For everyone else, WOW! Looks like Darksteel’s getting desperate, going for the servos of the champ!”

Infernocus continued to stagger backwards as Darksteel finally gained the upper hand, with the massive titan feeling his faceplates beginning to melt.

“Oh, oh! Could this be it?” Swindle shouted in shock. “Could this be the end of an era, could this be the fall of a titan and the rise of a new champ?”

It certainly was, in some ways as Infernocus now with head comprised only of molten slag fell to the ground with a mighty thud. Swindle growled to himself, he couldn’t let this stand! His prize money maker, defeated!

“Chainclaw, Cuttthroat, get him! I will not take me losing my bets lying down! Bring me that Predacon’s head!” Swindle shouted.

The gates opened up once more, and a massive bird in tan and purple colors along with a tiger-like bot in yellow paint wearing a silver battle mask charged out, Vehicons urging them out with electroshock staffs. Darksteel readied himself for battle. But he needn’t have worried, as laser fire completely blanketed the arena as a massive orange shuttle flew in, before parts shifted as Prowl and another Autobot -Trailbreaker- leaped down into the arena with the shuttle itself turning into a truly massive Autobot bearing the sigil of the Elite Guard, with two massive cannons on his winged back, and a red battle mask covering most of his faceplates. Swindle swallowed while Steeljaw smirked. Sentinel Prime, the Autobot Supreme Commander.

“Decepticons! You are under arrest for fraud and illegal Transformer sport ringleading. Surrender peacefully, or we will have to shut you down with force.” He boomed, pointing one of his two guns at Swindle and his Vehicon soldiers, with Prowl and Trailbreaker aiming theirs as well.

“Autobot scum. You always hate money. No wonder you’re such poor, pathetic, and weak excuses for machines!” Swindle scoffed back and clicked his fingers. “Decepticons! Bring these bots down!” And without another word, all of the Cons let loose a barrage of laser fire at the intruding Autobot team who returned in kind. Sentinel shifted forms one more, becoming a massive battle train that aimed all of his cannons at the box and pummeled it with artillery shells. The two Predacons Swindle had chained up, they’d broken free just in time and had run for it as the box came down and buried both Chainclaw and Cuttthroat underneath its rubble.

Swindle swallowed, knowing perfectly well when it was time to cut his losses and run before he teleported out in a flash of blue light.

“And to think he used to be one of us…” Prowl sighed sadly, shaking his head at days long by, when Swindle and the rest of the Combaticon brigade were members of the Elite Guard as well.

“ Where is he going?” Sentinel barked through a wrist-communicator as he transformed back into Robot mode. “I want his head!”

“Probably long gone from here, sadly,” Trailbreaker sighed as he cuffed the Vehicons. The ones still living anyways. He cast a suspicious look at Sentinel. He seemed… unusually violent for the Autobot’s current Prime. Then again, war had a way of changing a ‘Bot.

“Grr… Filthy bloodsports. I hate them. I hate them so much…” Prowl growled and punched a wall vigorously. “Especially when Autobots are roped into them.”

“Calm yourself Prowl,” Sentinel advised placing a hand on his shoulders, casting a thankful look towards Steeljaw who could only nod. “No need to get yourself worked up over all of this. What’s done is done, Swindle won’t dare set up shop here again, and he’ll probably go into hiding. He owes far too many debts now. People will be after him, we’ll probably see his carcass turn up very shortly. For now…” he trailed off, gesturing to Darksteel. “We have to help this one, along with any others of his kind left alive.”

Prowl noticed the disgusted way Sentinel spat out ‘his kind’, like Predacons were an inferior species. Sentinel, he’d have to keep an eye on that one.

“Not that Prowl really needed to worry, as Sentinel was killed in battle defending the Stellar Galleries a week later by Deathsaurus of the DJD himself,” Steeljaw commented, now back in the present day and in the sewers under Mexico City with Flich and Thunderclash. “Good riddance to bad rubbish I say. He may have been a Prime, but he was a terrible excuse for one. Bigoted right down to his very spark, far too war-like to actually do anything about the Hell Cybertron had become. It says a lot about Sentinel, when one of his most famous quotes was: ‘In my day, the good knew their responsibility... and the weak knew their place.’ Thank the Allspark for the coming of Optimus Prime, eh?” Steeljaw laughed weakly.

“There’s something curious about you, Steeljaw. Something that’s been nagging me ever since I first met you,” Thunderclash remarked. “You’ve got beastial instincts all about you, even your name screams Predacon, and yet you have a vehicular alt-mode. It’s odd that a pure-blooded Cybertronian would find themselves spending time with a Predacon like Filch. No offense intended of course.”

Steeljaw laughed again at this. “Who said anything about pure-blooded? No, Flich and I are hardly pure-blooded in any senses of the word. Now this, this is a tale in itself. You’re probably wondering what I was doing in the stands of a gladiatorial arena, taking down Swindle and his matches.”

“Altruism?” Thunderclash guessed with a small shrug of his shoulders and Steeljaw laughed again.

“Hardly,” he said as his wolfish eyes narrowed and his little tail flicking back and forth anxiously. “No, let me tell you a tale…”

There was nothing but darkness. And the occasional flicker of sparks from machines. Jagged, razor-sharp, and menacing spikes and tools could be seen in the brief instances of light. Sitting in a single chair, bound and gagged by tight locks, sat a singular Predacon, thrashing and flailing wildly in the hopeless void. Not a single creature replied to her muffled cries for help. None, except one.

“I know that this might come as a shock to you, but don’t dwell on this thought. Rather, think about the future, and how this will benefit us both once the process is complete,” A voice echoed through the darkness. “After all, I went through this myself, and now, I feel much better off for it.”

Filch’s eyes widened in terror, she knew that voice. Every Transformer on Cybertron did. Shockwave, quite possibly one of the most feared Decepticons ever to come online. A tall purple transformer, bearing one cycloptic eye stepped out of the shadows, and Filch’s optics widened in terror. She wanted to transform into her bird mode, but the restraints would not let her.

“You know, you fascinate me,” Shockwave stepped out into the light. “For being a machine, I would have expected a more vehicle-like transformation out of you. But instead, you take the form of a winged creation; but not a sleek and rocket-fueled one like Starscream or Thundercracker; and instead a more beastial form. It amazes me, a Predacon still surviving to this very day.”

Filch just continued to thrash and fight against her restraints, in the hope that they would come loose and give her a chance to escape.

“And yet, still, you disappoint me. You could be something more. Something with potential; a beast with an ambition, a goal, a purpose, even.” Shockwave pushed his hands together. “But, luckily, that’s something we Decepticons can remedy with ease. This technique was invented, tested, and approved by Lord Megatron himself, so I have high hopes that it will turn you into an unstoppable force, just as it did for those Dynobots. Hopefully, more obedient now that I’ve refined the CNA in this little mixture.” Shockwave chuckled lowly.

“Go slag yourself.” Filch whispered, praying to Onyx Prime -the first Predacon- someone would help her.

“What was that?” He leaned in closer to Filch’s ear. “I didn’t quite catch that. Was that a sense of resistance, even when your mind is about to be subdued?”

He turned on the lights and revealed two tanks, where two Autobots rested in some sort of green fluid. One, blue and gold and bearing spikes all over his torso and the other a teal-blue with razor-sharp claws, a wolfish face and a tail hanging limp. “I’ve done this before, only in reverse. See these two? Injected with Predacon CNA. Now I’m going to see what happens when a Predacon is injected with Cybertronian CNA,” Shockwave mused, and if he had a mouth Flich imagined he’d be smiling. Regardless, he took up a syringe filled with said CNA and pointed the tip at Filch. “Just sit back, relax, and let all the bad feelings fade away. Trust me. I’m a scientist.”

Flich whimpered out in fear as the syringe injected the pure Cybernucleic Acid into her systems, and she felt new programming trying to take control. Her whimpers slowly turned into a loud scream as parts shifted and reconfigured the more beastial aspects of her chassis vanishing. Feathered wings sharpened and became more jet-like before fans revealed themselves with her body becoming less angular and streamlined, less like a regular Corvicon and more like a jet’s.

“Now then.” Shockwave took the needle out once it had done its’ job and set it down on the table. “Let’s give you a chance to break in this new directive, shall we?”

Of course, there was a small problem with that. Take an already defiant Cybertronian, and screw around with her systems and you just made her more pissed off than normal. Breaking free of her restraints, parts shifted as she transformed into a jet, and fired two missiles at Shockwave, blasting him backwards into the walls of his lab. Hovering in place, she admitted -if only to herself- Shockwave’s new ‘upgrades’ did have their uses, she fired two more missiles and blasted a hole in the roof before transforming back to bot mode. Going over to a computer console, her fingers lit up the keyboard and freed Shockwave’s two captives. She noted their names. Steeljaw, and Gekisoumaru. Transforming again and smiling as she realized she still possessed her old alt-mode in some form she took to the night skies. Meanwhile, Shockwave staved off slipping into unconsciousness long enough to see his other two captives break open a door and run for it.

“Well then. This should be interesting…” He said to himself as he fell into the world of dreams.

“Of course, that’s not the end of the tale as you might expect,” Steeljaw continued. “No, not at all…”

It was late one rainy night when Steeljaw found her, in some long forgotten alleyway in one of Cybertron’s under cities quivering and shaking to herself. His optics widened, he recognized her from Shockwave’s laboratory. He nor his brother ever got the chance to thank her.

“You alright?” Steeljaw asked, kneeling down and reaching out a paw only for it to get swatted away.

“G-Go away…” Filch whispered. “You’re just like all the rest!”

“And all the rest would comprise…?” Steeljaw trailed off in confusion.

“That scientist. He…” Filch couldn’t even say a word as she felt the new CNA flow through her body. “I’m a freak. A Trans-Mutate, they call me.”

“Trust me, in that area at least, you’re not alone,” Steeljaw remarked, sitting down next to her. “You think I was born with these claws, or this tail? No, you saw me in that lab. Sho-” Steeljaw noted the flinch at even naming the madman and quickly corrected himself. “That scientist, he pulled me and my brother apart, ripped us open all in the name of science he said. Injected us with pure Predacon CNA, just to create the perfect soldiers for his Lord Megatron.”

“He works for Megatron. That robot.” Filch flopped her wings to the ground. “He’s evil, right? Both him and the scientist?”

“Honestly, it’s hard to tell sometimes. The scientist, yes. Evil without purpose or reason, but Megatron? I don’t know, I’ve heard tales he wanted to overthrow the corruption plaguing Cybertron and the High Council. You know the stories right, about how Nominus and Sentinel Prime were loyal to the High Council’s ideals of whatever alt-mode you got, dictated your place in life? Megatron, rose up from being a simple miner in Kaon’s pits to a politician, and when those plans fell through and his ideas were shot down he turned to war in hopes or making the people listen. Somewhere along the way, I think those ideals of his were lost. You’ve heard the news right, about that newcomer Orion Pax, I think his name is? It’s said he and Megatron were friends, both vying for the same changes.”

“Am I… evil?” Filch asked, looking at where the syringe had injected her.

“Only if you allow yourself to be. Me and my brother, we get… urges from time to time. To rip and tear, to kill. But we learned to curb them, with the Zen teachings of an Autobot and former Decepticon named Drift. You don’t have to be a monster. No, you can be something else. What that something is, that’s up to you.” Steeljaw smiled.

If Filch could cry, she would have. Instead, she just reached over and pulled Steeljaw into a hug. “Thank you. Friend. I think… I think I’d like to become a medic. Help those who can’t help themselves, a personal screw you to Shockwave. But I’ve heard rumors of Predacon clones, my sisters and brothers fighting to the death in Kaon’s arena.”

“So have I,” Steeljaw smiled. “Believe me, I have a plan to do something about it.”

“And so, there we are, I suppose. That’s what happened, how me and Flich met,” Steeljaw said. “We’ve never left each other’s sides since, even when Onslaught drafted us onto his crew.”

“Sparkmates then?” Thunderclash asked, and Steeljaw and Flich looked away from each other and Thunderclash laughed. So that’s how it was. Head over heelstrut for each other, but they couldn’t admit it. “So, what do we do now?”

“For now,” Flich stated. “You rest and heal. Then we figure out our next move…”

Author's Note

Okay, worked late into the night to bring you this, but here you go. Give a huge thanks to Shadowmane for being my co-writer for the second half of the chapter eh, and to the Stratovarian for helping me write a good car chase scene.

As ever, comments, thoughts, and critique are welcomed.

Part 21: The Fortunate Ones

Author's Note

Please don't kill me or Shadowmane okay?

Part 21: The Fortunate Ones

Cybertron: The Great War:

It was during the height of the Great War, where Hound and several others had found themselves deeply entrenched in what remained of the city of Polyhex, ravaged by decades of warfare. This battle, it’d honestly been going like this for the last several days with neither Autobot nor Decepticon keen on giving in or gaining any ground in the process. And all the while, both sides kept on expending Energon.

Hound was the de facto commander for this battle with the previous soldier in charge, an Autobot named Guzzle having been killed early on via a shot to the head early in the battle.

Road Rage, she was firing shot after shot at Decepticon snipers, keen on picking off as many as she could before they finally got her.

“You know…” she smiled sadly. “After all of this, when this is over… I think a nice keg of energon at Maccadam’s Old Oil House is in order. All of us, just kicking back and relax watching old holovids. Yeah, what do you think Backstreet?” she asked, looking towards her fallen comrade, the late Triggerbot having a hole blown right through his chest courtesy of a Combaticon shell casing. She chuckled sadly, knowing that the Autobot had always hated fighting for the sake of fighting, and to be honest would have rather have been a stellar explorer out amongst the stars, seeking out new life and new civilizations. He probably would have been, had the war not broke out and he’d been unceremoniously drafted. Grumbling to herself, Road Rage muttered: “All the dirty jobs…” before firing off another shot, scoring a headshot right through the cranium of the Seeker known as Nova Storm.

If she lived through this, and that was a very large if, she swore she’d take up Backstreet’s job and become a planetorial ambassador, just travel out there amongst the stars and meet all kinds of fascinating new species. She’d name one just after Backstreet, that’s what she’d do.

Suddenly, a very loud explosion sent Road Rage flying as her cover was blown to smithereens and parts flew everywhere as the rubble she’d been using was completely destroyed by a blast from the Combaticon known as Brawl. He’d assumed a tripod-legged stationary cannon mode, his usual hover tank alt-mode having been abandoned for the time being.

A shout rang out amongst the battlefield, Onslaught ordering: “Armored Division, assume siege modes and open fire at designated coordinates. We’re taking control of this situation, ending this farce!”

“...Oh, guess I never did want to live forever…” Road Rage sighed to herself, noting her rifle’s ammo banks had been depleted dry. From her position, she saw the armored division of Onslaught’s forces, as per orders dictated assuming similar tri-legged cannon modes.

“Well, this isn’t going to be pretty is it?” Hound laughed darkly to himself, his right arm bleeding energon fluid, a lucky shot from a Con named aptly enough Gunbarrel piercing the armored mesh plating. Thankfully, he’d repaid him in kind by shooting the tank transformer through the stomach.

Hound’s prediction proved to be spot on, as the Autobot forces were showered with mortar shots, ruins coming down all around them, with Trailbreaker only just barely able to hold back the crumbling rubble with his forcefield generator.

“Again!” Onslaught ordered, pointing directly at the Autobots. “I don’t want a single Autobot standing, you hear?”

The armor division began to ready their next wave of shots, as Trailbreaker looked towards Hound.

“Sir, I’m not sure we can take another shelling like that!” he shouted, cracks like little fractures of glass in his forcefield already beginning to show. “Now, I’m all for one final last stand, going out in a blaze of glory and all that and getting tales to be told about us, but this is foolish! I’m opting for a surrender! Maybe… just maybe, we’ll get lucky and they’ll just take us prisoner instead!”

“No, the Combaticons never take prisoners, they never do…” Hound mused, thinking of his fallen comrades. The dead and rusting, they were the fortunate ones here. Anyone who’d already joined the Allspark could be considered as such, in this tireless seemingly never-ending war that had cut through Cybertron like the blade of a sword and sliced it in two. The ones still left alive… Well, that was another story entirely. Sentinel Prime was gone, destroyed by Deathsaurus in one grand battle that had extinguished most’s last hopes at a peaceful resolution to this conflict, and Megatron was pushing for the offensive aiming to take Iacon. “If they wanted to offer us that luxury, they would have long ago.”

“D-Don’t s-suppose you can pull one of your hologram tricks out of that gearbox of yours, could you?” Road Rage coughed out with energon dripping from her mouth, and Hound shook his head.

“No, the Decepticons would get wise fairly quickly if some giant warrior just showed up out of the blue. They know of what I can do. If we were dealing with a more fearful and foolish lot, it might work, but Onslaught and his brigade? They are neither fearful nor foolish.”

“Then what?” Trailbreaker asked, looking towards a very distinctive white flag laying next to the body of Backstreet.

“The flag, use it.”

“Of course,” Trailbreaker nodded. “I’ll just set this up at the front of the battlements and-”

“No, you will use it to bandage my wound, soldier!” Hound barked out, cutting him off. “We never give in, one quick decisive strike right through the heart of Onslaught’s forces, they’d never expect it. It’d throw them into chaos!”

“That’s crazy, suicidal even!” Trailbreaker shouted.

“Yes, maybe, but right now… I’d say we’re all out of options. Nobody cares for us, we’re just cogs in a machine. We just have to fend for ourselves, and right now I’d say a little bit of crazy is in order. Now, as Sentinel Prime used to say… Autobots, Transform and Roll Out!”

A roar of triumph went up amongst the remaining forces as they followed Hound’s lead, their fighting spirit restored. Small victories Road Rage mused to herself, small victories.

Earth, Now:

“Yeah, never did want to live forever eh…?” Road Rage thought to herself. “We, or what was left of our platoon survived that, and now here on Earth just chasing after war criminals Hound got picked off by a lone sniper.” she thought, sighing and shaking her head at the irony.

“So… he’s really gone?” Indigo’s lips quivered as she stood over the body of Hound, tears beginning to form in them. “No… NO! I WON’T LET HIM DIE!” She pounded the edge of the table with her fists, blubbering and moaning. “He’s the reason me and Lemon are still besties!”

“Indy…” Lemon looked at the wreck Indigo Zap had become, then stared up at the lifeless husk of Hound. “Please, Hound… don’t die on us yet. We still need you for the fight against those bastard Cons.”

Just watching Hound, laying on that table pipes and tubing being his only source of life, and a small machine hooked up to him beeping out slowly, it made Trixie’s stomach churn, and the showmare retched. Standing in the background, watching with wide eyes was Juniper. Sure, she’d seen Cybertronians die, hell she watched Sky-Byte rip Snaptrap in half! But seeing this, someone who was supposed to be a friend of hers just laying on a table like that...

“Who did this… Who?” Indigo growled out. “WHO THE FUCK KILLED HIM?!”

Sugarcoat tried to contain her emotions, her voice as hard as steel. “It had to have been one very accurate sniper, see that hole? Only someone with immense training, and a steady hand would have been able to make such a shot.”

“How does a sniper leave THAT BIG A HOLE?!” Indigo screamed, turning into a banshee with how high her pitch was. “And what right do you have treating Hound like he was just wires and metal, like he never was alive, to begin with!?!” she shouted, her voice turning into choking sobs about halfway through, before she drew back her fist and tried to punch Sugarcoat only to stumble and fall to the floor.

“You think I’m not as broken up about this as you are?” Sugarcoat asked, taking off her glasses and fighting back tears. “But I’m trying to keep myself contained here. Hound, he wouldn’t have wanted to see us like this, fighting and arguing like a bunch of children over who killed him and how!”

“Y’know what, Hound is the only thing that helped me get closer to Lemon Zest. Now that he’s gone, she’s gonna totally hate me for letting him down! Do you know how cranky Lemon gets when people let her down like that?! DO YOU?!” Indigo barked, stomping right into Sugarcoat’s face, causing her brows to skyrocket.

“Indy… I don’t hate you for this.” Lemon walked over and laid her hand on Indigo’s shoulder. “If anything, you’re right about me getting angry. But I’m more pissed about those Cons than anything else. The next time I see them, I’m going to rip their Energon out with my bare hands, stomp it into the ground, and make them all watch! Who did this? Just… I just want to know who.”

“Flamewar,” Road Rage stated solemnly, slowly walking forwards to Lemon, and kneeling down to her level. “Her name was Flamewar. She was the same one who infected me and Prowl with that virus, and now she’s added another to her kill count. Prowl and Knock Out, they were working out an exchange for the cure. Hound was projecting a hologram of Knock Out, keeping the real one out of harm’s way, and had masked his and Knock Out’s sparks. But somehow, don’t ask me how, Flamewar got wise to our trick and shot Hound with her bow and arrows.”

“Road Rage. Get me my Targetmaster armor. I know what needs to be done,” Lemon lowered her head and shielded her eyes with her hair. “I’m going to bury Flamewar myself; no Autobots needed.”

“And how in Primus’s name do you expect to do that, huh?” Road Rage asked. “First off, you don’t even know where Flamewar is, she’s long gone! And you’d only turn into a gun, you’d need someone to wield you even if you did find her!” Road Rage shouted.

“Shadowbolts learn fast. And I’m pretty sure my Targetmaster accuracy is off the charts right about now. Add to the fact that I’m a pro speed skater, and I can outrun and outgun any Con you put in my way.” She didn’t even look up to speak.

“Listen to me, Lemon,” Road Rage stated. “Revenge, it’s not the answer. You think I don’t want Flamewar’s head myself? Killing her would feel good, but it wouldn’t bring Hound back all the same!”

“So, what are our options then?” Juniper asked. “Is… is there a way to bring Hound back, or do we just…” she trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

“Just one,” Prowl stated. “But it would require Hound to be completely reformatted, and if we do that… He may not emerge the same as any of us ever knew him. His body would be rebuilt yes, but his personality would probably completely change.”

“But… But there’s got to be a way here!” Juniper protested.

“Well… there is a way, but I don’t think any of you will like it.” Twilight pulled her head up from her notes. “Have you ever heard of the Frankenstein effect?”

Sugarcoat’s head whipped around to face Twilight so fast, everybody swore it probably would have probably fallen off. “Twilight. No, just no.”

“And what’s your answer, Saltcoat? Just let him die?” Twilight sharply retorted. “Look. I know it’s bad, but if you really want Hound back, I’m sure we can make an exception.”

“Look, I’m not putting anyone’s brains in an already damaged body, just to bring Hound back! This isn’t science Twilight,” Sugarcoat replied. “This is madness!”

“Unleash the Magic? That wasn’t madness?” Twilight asked, poking at the Friendship Games in their past. “Tell me, Sugarcoat. To you, and to the rest of CPA, what is madness if it delivers positive results?”

Sugarcoat’s jaw dropped, looking as if she’d been slapped. Twilight quickly realized she may have gone too far, remembering that this was a point of shame for the Shadowbolts and something they agreed was not their finest moment for them or CPA.

“Okay, maybe that’s not the best metaphor to use, but there’s no such thing as madness. Only insanity.” Twilight sighed and brushed her hand across the table. “Madness is just something we say is bad, but in reality, it’s because we’re scared to try.”

“No, it’s called madness because that’s exactly what it is!” Sugarcoat shouted back. “This… All of this you’re proposing, I’m sorry, but I can’t endorse it.”

“Then don’t. You’re more than welcome to vote against it.” Twilight turned to the rest of the Shadowbolts, Trixie, and Juniper. “Lemon Zest, Sunny Flare, Sour Sweet, Indigo Zap, Trixie, Juniper. Your thoughts?”

Nobody had to say a word, they were completely against whatever Twilight was proposing. She could read it on their faces.

“Twilight…” Trixie started. “I love you, honestly I do, but this… I can’t allow you to do this. Hound wouldn’t want you conducting this, in the faintest hope you can bring him back.”

“I understand. I’ll tell Perceptor to prepare for the funeral,” Twilight walked away from the deathbed, taking one last look at Hound. She looked into his optics one last time and kissed his forehead before looking at Prowl, who only nodded sadly and began switching the machines off one by one and pulling the pipes out of Hound’s chassis.

“Goodbye, my old friend.” he stated.

“You ever seen the stars look so beautiful tonight?” Trixie asked her girlfriend, laying on a picnic blanket atop a hillside, Maine’s forests and mountain ranges in front of them, with Canterlot City just a small little selection of lights nestled in the wilderness. In the background, Hound lay resting in his vehicle mode in a short recharge cycle. Not like he needed to intrude upon this moment anyways.

“No, I haven’t,” Trixie replied, though in her mind it wasn’t just the stars that looked beautiful. “Then again, city lights kinda prevent you from seeing all of… Well, all of this.” she continued, gesturing upwards. “Hound, you ever gone star watching?”

“No. I can’t say I have,” Hound stared skyward, watching as the stars lit up the otherwise black veil above them. “Is this normal behavior for you humans?”

“Well… It is in this part of the planet,” Twilight smiled as she tried drawing the stars together using nothing more than her fingers. “I think the Ursas might be out tonight, don’t you Trix?” she asked, and Trixie nodded, gesturing to a specific part of the skies.

“You mean the Ursa Major, and Ursa Minor constellations right?” Hound asked.

“Yes, exactly,” Twilight replied. “See you’ve been studying up on Earth constellations.”

“Well, they’re not just Earth constellations,’ Hound replied. “On Cybertron, we can see them as well. They just go by different names, that’s all. But like your girlfriend, in the big city lights, you can’t see them as well as you can out here. That’s the reason I volunteered to do this, just to get a look at them myself.”

“So, what do you think?” Twilight asked, lifting a brow to him.

“They’re beautiful, I had friends in the Cybertronian Stellar Galleries who told me about all of this… But I never got the chance to observe them for myself really.” Hound admitted, with a tinge of sadness in his tone. “Why do you think I jumped at the chance to follow Onslaught’s crew to Earth? I wanted to explore new cultures, and see new topographies, and see the stars with my own optics.”

“Think you’ll ever have something like it ever again?” Twilight asked, holding her hands together.

“On this planet, you mean?” Hound inquired.

“Just in general. Will you ever have something this beautiful like these stars?” Twilight put a hand on his hood.

“Yeah, I already do. Seeing Cybertron as it is now, restored to it’s golden age of peace and prosperity little by little. That’s all I could have asked for, to see that in my lifetime,” he said softly. “And I won’t let Onslaught nor any of the other members of his crew destroy that which we’ve worked so hard to rebuild.”

“And I promise you Hound,” Twilight replied. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you and your team stop Onslaught. Pinkie Promise. Cross my Heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

Although caught off guard by the strange saying and the movements, Hound understood the sentiments.

“T-Thank you…” he murmured.

Back in the present, Twilight watched, along with her friends and the Autobots’ government allies as Hound was loaded up into a rocket constructed by Perceptor that would launch Hound into the sun, as a makeshift funeral pyre. The main body of the rocket had this clear bubble constructed into it, so everyone could see Hound. His body had been restored to it’s original glory, and it seemed just for a moment he was simply sleeping. But everyone knew better.

Soldiers stood at attention, rifles at the ready.

“Ready! Aim, and fire!” Spitfire barked out, and 21 shots pierced the night as both she and Fowler saluted. The rocket engines fired up, and the funeral barge was sent flying upwards into space on a direct course towards the sun.

Twilight watched for a minute, before she could no longer hold back the flood of tears that were threatening to break. Tossing her glasses aside, she ran off sobbing with Trixie trying to reach out and grab her to pull her into a comforting hug, but to no avail.

“Let her go,” Chrysalis told her softly. “We all grieve in our own ways. Give her time, and then hold her, and don’t let her go you understand Trixie Lulamoon? She’ll need you now, more than ever.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I understand.” Trixie sniffled as she watched the rocket join the stars that Hound had so loved...

Part 22: Old Friends

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Part 23: The Devils in the Darkness

Sri Lanka:

Sri Lanka, perhaps best known as an island-nation to the south of India, is known to some as ‘Teardrop of the Indian Ocean’. Once part of a truly massive landmass known as Gondwana that connected it to nations now known as India, Antarctica, Australia and Madagascar, the country is able to boast over 2,500 years of unrecorded history. But it was this very simple fact, that the country boasts an unrecorded past, makes it shrouded in myth and mystery. It’s supposedly witnessed dagger-clawed inhabitants, jaw-dropping monuments and monoliths constructed by aliens and malevolent gods who roamed amongst mere mortal men. Combine all of this and that made travelling to Sri Lanka just that much more exciting. And depending on the time of year and the weather, very, very unpleasant. As Steeljaw and Filch were just starting to find out.

“For the record, I just want to say, I’m completely and utterly against this,” Filch stated, as she in her natural beast mode flapped high above Steeljaw, who was traveling along a probably long disused dirt road that was made no better by the pounding pouring rain that turned the dirt into mud. “I mean, ugh… You know how long it’s going to take to get this out of my servos? Think I can feel my joints rusting already!”

“You’ll manage, and as a medic, I don’t think your joints will rust from a simple rain shower,” Steeljaw remarked, windshield wipers working furiously against the torrent and in no mood for Filch’s bitching for the moment. “You’ve weathered worse, you grew up in the Sea of Rust for Primus’s sake did you not?”

“Just saying, been all over the world with you by now it seems like, traveled half the galaxy and some nice weather should be owed to us by now at this point don’t you think?” Filch continued, still ranting. “By Onyx’s spark, I’m already getting flashbacks of every sort to Mexico! You absolutely certain we can trust this friend of Thunder Clash’s? I mean, Predacons by nature -And I should know- aren’t naturally good-tempered and liable to welcome strangers into their dens with open arms!”

“Well, I’ll just have to use my charismatic charm if all else fails,” Steeljaw remarked.

Filch could barely hold back rolling her eyes. “Yeah, like that’s always worked so well before,” the Corvicon muttered, shaking her head in mid-flight. Why she liked this idiot was beyond her at times.

“You worry too much, if you ask me,” Steeljaw said, rolling his own optics. “If we say Thunder Clash vouched for us, then chances are Airazor won’t want to render us to ribbons with her talons,”

“Or she won’t believe us and then she’ll try and make us her dinner. Did I ever tell you Predacons are all carnivorous? Especially the larger breeds?” Filch remarked nervously. “Actually, on that subject did Thunder Clash tell us what we should be looking for or are we going to be wandering around in the jungles till the slagging Pit freezes over?”

“...Well, no, not exactly,” Steeljaw admitted with a touch of embarrassment. “But from local descriptions, and the name I’d presume some large bird.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Filch remarked. “Some large bird. Oh yes, that’s very helpful.” she drawled.

“Hold up,” Steeljaw said, pulling to a halt as he saw something dash between the undergrowth. He could vaguely make out a shape, with lightning flashing long enough for a pure white feline head to be revealed “You see that? Something moving out there, in the darkness.”

Filch perched herself atop a tree branch, optics narrowing as she trained her vision to where Steeljaw was looking. “No heat sigs, or sparks detected. Maybe your imagination’s playing tricks on you.”

“Maybe…” Steeljaw commented, though he sounded if he didn’t really believe that from his tone. “Or maybe Airazor’s not the only Predacon out here. Spark masking, it’s a favorite trick of Predacons. And I swore I saw something. Swear by my spark.”

“And I believe you, but it could just be a tiger or some other form of big cat though,”

“An albino tiger?” Steeljaw asked, sounding skeptical.

“It happens. Rare, but it happens,” Filch remarked. “Okay, so aside from this Devil Bird what should we be on the lookout for, myth-wise?”

“Well, Hinduism and India, in general, has a large number of myths, like the Byangoma, a purely blind bird that supposedly tells your fortune and with a few drops of blood from a donor, their sight can be activated,” Steeljaw remarked. “Then there’s the Narasimha, an avatar of the Hindu god Vishnu, a creature who is supposed to incarnate in the form of a half lion, half man and uses this form to destroy evil, and end religious persecution and calamity on Earth, thereby restoring Dharma, whatever the hell that is,” he muttered, and Filch gave him a look seemingly judging if he was crazy or not. “Hey, I don’t make this stuff up, blame the humans!” he shouted in return.

“...Considering the Aztec and Mayan myths,” Filch murmured to herself. “That load of slag sounds no less crazier than half of the stuff there. Tamer even, really if you want my opinion. But chances are, considering our track record we might just run into the real-world embodiments and inspirations for those myths,” she remarked, almost in a challenging tone seemingly daring the Narasimha to jump out of the bushes and claw her to shreds. After a few moments of nothing happening, she gave out a shrug with her wings and took back to the skies with Steeljaw following after her kicking up mud in his wake. What either of them failed to notice was a pair of yellow felid eyes glaring at them, narrowing slightly with sharp claws glimmering in the moonlight before their owner vanished back into the darkness from whence he’d came. He’d reveal himself in time. For now, he’d let these two just think him a trick of the light. After all, he was a patient sort. Meanwhile, Steeljaw and Filch continued deeper into the jungle.

“Course, interesting thing here,” Steeljaw remarked, trying to put his mind at ease by continuing his lecture on Sri Lanka, India, and their myths. “Hinduism isn’t the main religion here. No, that title belongs to Theravada Buddhism. Here, that’s the big thing, not Hinduism. In fact, Sri Lanka, has 70% of the country's population as followers of this belief. Not to say there isn’t any, 12% of the populace is-” he began to ramble on before Filch stopped him.

“I always wondered what you do in your spare time,” Filch remarked with a flat look. “Now I know.”

“You try staying cooped up in a crashed starship with nothing else to do besides track this thing down, track that guy down. You get unbelievably bored,” Steeljaw replied. “So it was hitting the books for me as the humans say to try and relieve some of that boredom. Interestingly, and I think we both should take notice of this, the Burmese version of Buddhism has creatures called Belu or in Hindu terms the Rakshasa which basically amount to humanoid beings capable of shapeshifting and both could be good or evil. Sound familiar?” Steeljaw remarked and it wasn’t that hard to imagine that if he was in robot mode he’d be smirking.

“Ah, there’s our Predacon then. A Rakshasa. It’s not too hard to believe, like the Aztec and Mayan myths of Kukulkan and Quetzalcoatl, that some cultures wound up believing in the same beast,” Filch theorized. “Perhaps Sri Lankan myth and Hinduism both have a Devil Bird of sorts, only it’s what would be called a Rakshasa or in other words a Predacon,” she remarked. “Speaking of Predacons, what do you think happened to Darksteel, started out as this noble warrior fighting for a cause. Think he just lost his way like so many others when the war kicked into high gear?”

“Sadly, yes,” Steeljaw replied. “I think that is indeed the case. And in the end…”

“It only got him caught up with the rest of us shitheads and wound up getting him killed, pushing our species further to extinction…” Filch trailed off.

“Yes, quite,” Steeljaw replied sadly before switching subjects. “Anyways, we’re nearing the human town of Polonnaruwa. There’s a few awfully strange reports coming out of there as of late if you’re willing to dig deep enough on the human internet, some of which amount to strange blood-curdling screeches in the night. I’d say we’ve found our friend’s current nesting place eh?” he questioned before suddenly his comms crackled to life.

“Steeljaw! There you are, beginning to get worried about you,” Breakdown’s voice crackled over the comms sounding quite relieved. “Haven’t been able to get in touch with you or Filch for that matter for days, not since that disaster in Mexico!”

“Well… Uh, congrats. You found me,” Steeljaw replied, sounding somewhat flattered that Breakdown cared about him and Filch that much to actually try and get in touch with them. “So, I presume I’d been presumed dead?”

“For the most part?” Breakdown replied. “Yeah, you pretty much have least amongst those of us who weren’t there for the big Predacon VS Onslaught fight. The rest of the crew, like the Vehicons have been trying to claim your quarters and whatever lies within for themselves. It got so bad I actually had to post two Eradicons outside the door just to keep them from ransacking your humble abode as you call it.”

“I’m touched. No, really, I am,” Steeljaw replied. “But really, you needn’t have bothered. I set up a security mechanism that without my handprint to open the door, you’re liable to get shot to pieces by an energon cannon. Salvaged it from what was left of Triggerhappy after Darksteel was through with him as his personal chew toy.”

“...You really scare me sometimes, you know that right? Just putting that on record,” Breakdown replied, suppressing a shudder. “Well, least that solves one mystery that’s been nagging at me for a while now. Those Eradicons I placed outside the doors, found a huge bunch of slagged Vehicons laying outside your quarters.”

“Yeah, I bet they did,” Steeljaw replied. “Vehicons, dumb by default. At this rate, we won’t have any cannon fodder left really!”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t exactly refer to them as cannon fodder. They just got landed with an unthankful job, really,” Breakdown mused. “I mean, I’m surprised they haven’t revolted yet. With their numbers, they could overwhelm us easily. There’s a reason I try and go out of my way to be kinder to them, like sending them extra Energon when we give them particularly unthankful tasks,”

“You’re far too nice to be a Decepticon, you know that right?” Steeljaw replied. “Should have gone and hooked up with the Autobots like your sparkmate did really. You’d fit in well there,”

“Been thinking about that really. Hell, if Onslaught didn’t have that personal hunter of his in Flamewar, might just have done that long ago,” Breakdown mused. “Look, I’m no fan of this venture, since when did the humans do anything to us? Been thinking, that girl I nearly ran down, the one who’s now an Autobot ally, if I hadn’t briefly succumbed to my old habits she wouldn’t have been caught up in this pile of slag we’re all in. Honestly, I say we should have found another world to escape to.”

“Hey, not your fault the Autobots managed to catch up with us, and shoot us down over this planet. Still, makes me wonder why this planet in particular. Onslaught never does anything at random,” Steeljaw remarked. “It’s all part of some master plan to him. We just haven’t seen his endgame yet. All I know is, he picked us in particular, out of all the other unhappy former Decepticons on Cybertron for a reason. Something tells me, someday soon, we’ll find out exactly what that reason is.”

“Yeah…” Breakdown trailed off. “Listen, nice catching up to you. I gotta get back to security patrols. One of the Vehicons swore they saw that black wolf Predacon sneaking about in the vents. Best I go check. Oh, and Steeljaw? Whatever you’re doing, stay safe.”

With that, the comms clicked off and Breakdown turned to face Swindle and Brawl who were holding him at gunpoint. Behind him, a map of the globe showed Steeljaw’s exact location.

“So nice of your friend to finally start talking, eh?” Swindle remarked. “And I’m so glad you’re such a good actor.” he cackled, before he and Brawl left the small communications room. Breakdown only hung his head in shame.

“Yeah, a good actor…” he thought to himself.

The Autobase:

Perceptor was having a rather interesting day, to say the least after Agent Fowler had shown up and informed him that a month or so back, apparently some sort of winged serpent was sighted above Mexico City, along with military vehicles and supercars taking to the streets and that the Mexican government only now just saw it fit to inform him of what was going on. It didn’t take much of a guess to figure out the Decepticons were in Mexico for whatever reason that month and whatever the case, probably wasn’t anything good. And it just got more interesting with what was happening now.

“Road Rage to base, requesting pick-up for two.” the femme chimed in, sounding rather cheery if Perceptor wasn’t mistaken.

“I’m sorry, two?” Perceptor’s could help himself, his voice coming out as a stutter of shock. “What about Octane, did you catch him?”

“No, he got away, but I just met up with an old friend…” Road Rage replied.

“Right then,” Perceptor replied. “I’ll be sending the bridge your way short-” he began and reached for the controls before a small beeping on his computer console interrupted him from his duties.

“Something wrong?” Road Rage asked, her voice suddenly turning concerned.

“Maybe, maybe not. Old Autobot signal, this frequency hasn’t been used in years!” Perceptor exclaimed in shock. “Best I have a listen, just in case.”

“Woah, woah,” Road Rage stated. “How do you know it’s not Decepticons, trying to figure out where our base is?” she asked cautiously before another voice chimed in. Nebulan, in accent.

“Well, for one thing, those dingos wouldn’t know how to hack even if killed ‘em,” Outback chimed in making Perceptor’s eyes widen. He knew that voice. He just hadn’t heard it in ages. “Secondly, I can vouch for that frequency given I, along with the rest of the crew of the Van De Graaff use it. That’s one of ours, Smallfoot I reckon given she’s the only other one scouting Earth about now. Hell, it’s only thanks to her we know about you lot!”

“Okay, well if that’s the case…” Perceptor murmured, looking into the exact specifics of the transmission. It was indeed Smallfoot, requesting pick-up via Groundbridge to their base.

“Perceptor?” Smallfoot asked in shock, optics probably widened. “That you?”

“Yeah, it’s me. So, where have you been all this time, and more importantly what are you and Outback doing on Earth?”

“Ah, that’s a story in itself really. And it’s not just me and Outback, few others too like Night Ranger and Hoist. Whole ship’s worth. I’ll explain more soon as you guys open the door, as it were.”

“Okay, I’ll bridge Outback and Road Rage in first, then you. The last thing we want is two Groundbridges sent to the same place connecting, and forming a bridge to some parallel plane. Basic groundbridge safety, right then and there,” Perceptor replied, and pressed a few buttons on his console, his fingers lighting up the keypad, and soon a swirling blue-green vortex of energy opened with Road Rage and Outback driving through, and then that one closed only to be followed by another with Smallfoot in vehicle mode arriving through that one. Parts shifted, and the entire front half of the truck formed arms with the grill guard winding up on Smallfoot’s chest as the back half of the truck flipped outwards and became legs, with a green visor popping down over Smallfoot’s optics.

“Well, so nice to see we’re not alone on this planet anymore, gotta say,” Smallfoot remarked, the minibot femme strutting around the base and seating herself atop a pile of crates. “Road Rage, so nice to see you again! Been decacycles! See you finally got that Elite Guard position you’ve been wanting for ages!” she chirped merrily noting the winged badge on Road Rage’s chest plating. “Where’s Hound? Never seen you without him, really.”

A discomforting silence fell over the base, and Outback hung his head.

“By Primus…” he whispered. “Never thought someone would do the old slagger in. Thought it was just a rumor, but now...?”

“Who did it, who?” Smallfoot asked, her fists clenched.

“Who do you think?” Road Rage replied. “That bitch, Flamewar. Shot him right through the spark, left us with the options of either reformatting him into a completely new bot, or…”

“Yeah…” Smallfoot sniffled. “I-I understand. Hound wouldn’t have wanted that, it’d have been like taking away everything he ever was. Please tell me Flamewar’s suffered for that?”

“Haven’t killed her yet,” Road Rage replied. “But I’ve made sure she’s gotten a few knocks and dings since.”

“Good,” Outback replied. “Bitch deserves it. Say, where’s Prowl?”

“Out on a scouting run, heard of an Energon deposit that might have been worth mining or at least taking a look at. Hopefully, he’ll get to it before the ‘Cons get wind of it, and send Octane down to sweep it out from under us.” Perceptor explained.

“And Sentinel Prime’s okay with this? One of his top troops going off on his own like this?”

A loud laughter echoed through the base as Swerve walked up, the minibot clutching his sides in amusement. “Sentinel?” he laughed. “Wooooow, you guys are really, and I mean really behind the times. Sentinel was two Primes ago! We're on Nova Prime now!”

“Well, excuse us for fleeing before Cybertron became even more of a Pit than it was already!” Smallfoot snapped, and before a fight could break out between her and Swerve, Outback managed to step in between the two.

“Woah woah, cool your engines mates,” the Toyota alt-moded Autobot remarked. “We’re all friends here, right guys? Save the punches for the ‘Cons, eh?”

“So, what happened to Sentinel?” Smallfoot asked curiously, eyebrow raised under her visor. “I mean, guy was a jackass at times, but I always thought he’d live forever. He took punches, man oh man did he take them! Seemed invincible.”

“Alas, if that were only the case eh?” Perceptor remarked. “Sadly, Deathsaurus had other ideas. And frankly, if you pardon me speaking ill of the dead, I’m more impressed with the Prime who came next. Sentinel, good at leadership and combat, but like you said his personality left something to be… desired.”

“Too true,” Outback agreed. “Wasn’t the most empathic of Primes. I’ll say that much. So, who’d we get next?”

“You ever heard of that archivist named Orion Pax, the one who always accompanied Megatron when he was making waves in the political arena?” Swerve asked.

Smallfoot and Outback nodded, before they shared a look with optics widened.

“Wait, you don’t mean to say…?” Smallfoot trailed off.

“Yep, right on the money there. Orion Pax, got handed the Matrix of Leadership after Sentinel got scrapped and became Optimus Prime,” Swerve continued. “Man, was I, along with everyone else shocked when this massive truck came barreling through the ruins of Polyhex. I remember it like it was yesterday…”

Megatron smirked as he watched one of the walls of the once mighty city-state of Polyhex come crumbling down. The siege was almost over, the Autobots just didn’t know it yet. Amongst the spilled energon, the ruined walls, and towers of fire rising high into the night sky, the Decepticon leader drove his forces into the heart of the city. He chuckled. Onslaught had done good work today, the Combaticon leader and his siege forces weakening the defenses of the city for Megatron to give the final push as it were.

His gaze briefly wandered to a nearby battlefield, where he saw Onslaught pointing to a group of entrenched Autobot soldiers. A shout rang out amongst the battlefield, Onslaught ordering: “Armored Division, assume siege modes and open fire at designated coordinates. We’re taking control of this situation, ending this farce!”

Parts shifted as tanks became cannons, and shelled the Autobot forces with mortar shots, showering them practically. Ruins of the once great city were coming down all around them, with Autobot known as Trailbreaker only just barely able to hold back the crumbling rubble with his forcefield generator, creating a small energy bubble of orange-yellow light over the group.

“Again!” Onslaught ordered, pointing directly at the Autobots. “I don’t want a single Autobot standing, you hear?”

The armor division began to ready their next wave of shots, as Trailbreaker looked towards another Autobot. Hound, if Megatron remembered correctly.

Megatron smirked as he saw Trailbreaker reaching for a flag, only for his smile to drop when he used it to bind Hound’s wounds, a small argument seemingly reinvigorating Trailbreaker’s lost courage. The remaining Autobot forces charged, right through the heart of Onslaught’s own troops catching them off guard and in this momentary burst of surprise they scythed their way through the armored division with Road Rage drop kicking Onslaught to the ground.

Megatron let out a small burst of laughter, he had to admire their bravery and loyalty to their own or whatever it was that kept this group going. He was banking on stupidity personally. Aiming his infamous fusion cannon, the Great Slagmaker fired one shot at Hound, a purple ball of energon heading right towards the dark green soldier. Trailbreaker’s eyes widened, and just in time, he threw up a shield which held briefly but shattered and sent it’s own flying back into some rubble.

“Oh, such heroic nonsense…” Megatron muttered to himself, shaking his head. “But nonsense all the same.” he readied his fusion cannon for another shot, this one aimed directly at Hound’s spark. One clean blast, a quick and simple death for the battered Autobot. Practically painless. He deserved that much, Megatron admitted, for lasting this long with nobody coming to back him or his troops up. He admired that in his foes, their tenacity.

Then, before the shot could be fired, he heard the loud rumble of an engine, and his head whipped around to see a ring-adorned metallic bridge beginning to form, metal shifting and merging as from a highway from Iacon came a shape. Red and blue, streamlined resembling a truck of some sort.

Smashing through a small barricade, sending Vehicons flying into the air the truck continued its advance. Megatron’s optics narrowed, something about that truck seemed almost… familiar in some way. He just couldn’t place this familiarity.

“Well, I have to admire this one for his bravery. And his foolishness.” Megatron mused.

The truck picked up speed, and finally Megatron’s soldiers recovered from their stunned stupor and opened fire. One of his jets launched a missile at the truck, who simply swerved to the side to avoid the blast. Another missile was fired, this one exploding behind the truck and the ground beneath his wheels began to crumble out from under him, but the truck didn’t seem to be bothered, and only picked up speed. He proceeded to begin plowing right through the ranks, sending Bombshock flying skywards and the truck crushing another Insecticon named Chop Shop under his wheels. One Seeker, named Hooligan with a tiger stripe color scheme tried to launch himself skywards, and was indeed launched when he was rammed head-on by this newcomer, Hooligan only having a brief second to see himself in the gleaming red paint of the truck’s front end before he went flying.

Kickback and another Seeker, Red Wing tried and all credit where credit was due, tried to fire upon this newcomer but were simply knocked aside with Red Wing getting the worst of it.

It was then Breakdown summed up what was probably on everyone’s minds about then with a remark of: “Oh, we’re screwed man!” and transformed fleeing the battlefield as with a shifting and whirring of parts the unknown Autobot transformed into a massive bipedal shape. This shape was mostly comprised of a red paint scheme with blue legs, and a blue horned head that had a battle mask flip up over the Bot’s faceplates leaving only two stoic blue optics visible.

Several Vehicons, in one last desperate struggle tried to take him on, but were only cut down by an orange bladed battle axe, one getting split right down the middle.

Megatron’s eyes widened, as he felt a familiar surge of energy from the unknown Autobot, a surge he’d felt only a few times before in the presence of one other Autobot. The distinctive energies of the Matrix of Leadership.

“You… Who are you!?!” Megatron yelled out at the unknown Prime, a blade of metal flipping out from his wrist.

“Your worst nightmare. You’ve caused enough destruction for one day… Megatronus.” the Prime said, and then Megatron finally placed it, the familiarity. That voice, those colors and the familiarity of the name he called him by. Only one bot with a combination of those features ever existed in his memory banks.

“Orion…” Megatron smiled warmly. Not his usual cruel smile, but one of pride. “So, you’ve become a Prime now have you? Guess those old fools in the high council really did get desperate, to choose a clerk as the successor of the great Sentinel Prime!” he teased in a lighthearted manner.

“Megatronus, it truly sorrows me how far you’ve fallen,” Orion remarked. “Look around you, just take a look around! Is this what you wanted when you vied for change?”

“It was the only way Orion!” Megatron argued, their blades meeting with a scatter of sparks. “Those stubborn old fools wouldn’t know change if it stared them in the face!”

“The name is Optimus now, Megatron,” Orion replied, blades meeting once more, each matching the other in equal combat. Long ago, before the two diverged Megatron taught Orion in the ways of combat, just in case the time arrived where he would need to defend himself he would know how. Optimus understood what Megatron meant now, perhaps even back then he was planning his revolution. “Look me in the eye and say you want it ended, and it will end.”

“Oh, and it will end Prime,” Megatron replied. “As soon as the old world order is torn down, and my ideas replace it. No more with Cybertronians suffer under a classist system, one which delegates their standing in life via their alt-modes!” he shouted, dodging a downwards swing from Optimus’s axe. All the while, Autobots and Decepticons alike watched from little hiding holes in the rubble -Swerve amongst them- as the two great warriors and old friends did battle.

“And you’ll do this by reducing Cybertron to ruin?” Optimus snarled. “Destroying anyone who stands in your way?”

“Why must you persist, old friend?” Megatron asked, blades meeting once more.

"Don't be surprised, Megatron. This is exactly what you wanted, a common cause united for change. It’s just you’re not on that cause. And I fight you not as the leader of the Autobots, but as the leader of all Transformers! Understand this old friend,” Optimus remarked. “Until I bring you back from the edge of the abyss you so chose to stand on, I will not give in and I will not let Cybertron fall to your warmongering!”

“Understand this. So long as you stand in my way- so long as anybody stands in my way, I will respond by killing. Murder on an industrial scale,” Megatron replied, and Optimus hung his head in shame and sorrow, realizing that words would not be enough to sway his old friend from his current path. “Because in the final analysis, I would happily wade across a river of corpses, chest-deep in rust and grease and engine oil, just to crush the spark of the last Autobot standing. And I would do so not simply as a means to an end, no. I'd do it, Prime, because it would give me pleasure.”

A sudden roar of rage from Optimus, and a powerful swing cleaved a long gash in Megatron’s chest plates, and Megatron, sensing the tide of battle had turned at least for the moment transformed into his jet mode and rocketed skywards Optimus watching him all the while. No, this would not be the end of their conflict. It was only the beginning.

“Now that… That was a day that’ll live long in history, don’t you think?” Swerve remarked.

“Yeah, the war started to finally turn in our favor for the first time in cycles, I’d like to think,” Outback agreed. “Those dingos had a new challenge now, not just a Prime who was skilled in combat and leadership, but one who progressed more than a degree of empathy as well, something that had been lacking from the lineage of Primes for ages. Hell, I think old Ops turned a few Decepticons to the Autobot side just by his offers of mercy or other acts of kindness,” he remarked.

“Yeah, that’s what we needed,” Perceptor agreed. “A leader who was truly focused on ending the war, not just scrapping every Decepticon in sight. Someone who had vision. Seemed like a hopeless dream back then, but…”

“Look at it now,” Swerve smiled. “It’s a reality. Cybertron’s slowly piecing itself back together, bit by bit and for the most part old grudges have been cast aside. Hell, Optimus’s successor even made peace with the Predacons! We have both him and Optimus to thank for… well, having good bots like Sunder along,” Swerve smiled gesturing to the rafters where the eagle-like Predacon was resting, before bleeping out his usual greeting. “But, like I said, for the most part.”

Just then, the sound of a helicopter’s rotors was heard from somewhere above, and Perceptor and Swerve shared a nod. “Yep, that’d be Fowler. I remember him saying he was supposed to check up on us, to see if we haven’t pancaked a mini-mall or something or other.” Perceptor remarked before scoffing. “Like we’d be so careless!”

“Who’s Fowler?” Smallfoot had to ask.

“Our handl-” Swerve began before Road Rage cut him off.

“Our official liaison with the US government, amongst other things,” she corrected him. “He, along with two others kinda keep our existence a secret from humankind as we all doubt they’re ready to handle the idea of giant alien robots existing just yet.” Road Rage remarked, and Outback chuckled.

“Yeah, I can imagine.” the Autobot commented as Smallfoot shrugged.

“Hey, you guys are so pessimistic,” Smallfoot commented. “Who’s to say, maybe humanity will welcome us with open arms!”

“Oh yeah, then why’d we take Earth alt-modes?” Outback sniped even as Fowler walked in, blinking as he did so.

“Okay… Am I imagining things or did you guys multiply?” he asked slowly, only for Smallfoot to wave confirming that no, he wasn’t on drugs.

“Yeah, hi! Name’s Smallfoot, official scout of the Cybertronian ship the Van De Graff. That’s Outback, my partner in crime if you will.” she said with Outback giving a small bow.

“Greetings mate,” Outback smiled. “Pleasure’s all mine, first time I’ve met a human I admit. I was expecting you to be… sorta bigger with the way these guys talk about you. You know, how Primes and other important bots get bigger chassis?”

“Uh… no, I actually don’t…” Fowler trailed off, quite confused and a bit flattered he supposed. “So seems my job just got that little bit harder. Please tell me you guys had enough sense to take Earth vehicle disguises?” he asked, and Outback and Smallfoot gave him looks. Fowler laughed nervously. “Okay, stupid question. How many of you guys are there now?”

“Alive or dead, mate?” Outback remarked.

“Alive,” Fowler remarked.

“In that case, aside from the ones you already know about, it’d be me, Smallfoot, Hoist, Hubcap, Night Ranger and our commander Pyra Magna,” Outback replied, and a few optics were raised, especially at the name Pyra Magna. It was said of Pyra Magna, that her very spark burned with a powerful flame that fueled her absolute, relentless will to survive. She never gave up, never backed down. In some ways, she could be the female counterpart to one Optimus Prime. She excelled at making the hard choices and had many victories to her name. The question is, why would she flee Cybertron on the Van De Graaff?

“Hoo boy…” Fowler muttered, rubbing his temples and phoning someone, possibly the Pentagon or Special Agent Chrysalis at least.

“Nice guy,” Outback remarked. “Needs to let off some stress a bit more.”

“Yeah, but he comes through when you need him. And for the record,” Road Rage remarked. “I so ship him and Captain Spitfire.”

“I heard that!” Fowler piped up in the background, knowing exactly what shipping was no thanks to both Chrysalis and his daughter’s fanfictions for something called Puella Magi Madoka Magica he’d unluckily stumbled across.

“Never change, never change…” Smallfoot replied, shaking her head. “Anyways, yeah, I did notice you get pursued by Eradicons and Vehicons a month or so back, and before that I saw you fighting a few Decepticons in Japan at a Nuclear power plant,” Smallfoot remarked before shuddering. “Primus, can’t imagine whoever is leading the Cons these days would want with nuclear fuel rods. I know they can be converted into energon, but not much else.”

“You think maybe, and I hesitate to even think of the idea, they’re reviving the old Toxitron idea, but in small scale?” Swerve suggested.

“The what idea?” Fowler questioned, hesitating to even ask. Swerve continued on, not really acknowledging his presence. This was normal for him, when he rambled everyone else sorta just faded into the background if you will.

“By Nexus Prime, you remember some of the ‘Con Experiments during the war? Like Toxitron? Y’all remember Toxitron right? You know why he was called that right? Dripping with Tox-En!” Swerve exclaimed, fighting back a shudder. Smallfoot wasn’t so lucky.

“Yeah, I remember that one. Dripping with that slime, whenever he came along we had to evacuate entire cities! Pretty sure Wheeljack at one point theorized the only way to stop him was a shot from low orbit! Did that ever happen by the way?” she inquired.

“Nah,” Swerve replied. “We just got a Dynobot by the name of Swoop to drop a bomb down his throat.”

“Sweet Abraham Lincoln and George Washington’s lovechild…” Fowler muttered, not for the first time reminded that these guys weren’t just a ragtag bunch of misfits but soldiers as well.

“Well, we’ll figure this all out,” Outback nodded. “Now, we’ve seen your base. I think it’s only fair you see ours right?”

“Quite.” Perceptor smiled as Outback fed the coordinates for the Van De Graaff’s crash site into the computers, before pressing a button and a swirling green vortex of energy opened up once more.

“Wish we could lay out the welcome mat, but apologies, place is a mess,” Outback said as the group stepped through.

“Eh, how bad could it be?” Perceptor remarked. “I’ve seen Cybertron after the war, this can’t be any worse, right?” he asked, looking towards Sunder as if to ask him to keep an eye on things while they were gone. Sunder, understanding him somehow gave him a salute with one of his wings as the group vanished into the groundbridge...

Author's Note

Okay, massive chapter, not my longest in this story but still pretty good-sized. Lots of background info here, including the long-awaited first appearance of the Big Guy himself in Optimus Prime. For his entrance, took inspiration from a number of things. One, his famous moment charging into Autobot City from the 1986 movie. Secondly, his entrance in the War For Cybertron Trailer, which also provided his alt and robot modes. Finally, his appearance in the old G1 episode War Dawn.

Now, next time you'll be getting a few more interactions with the girls, including a scene with Smallfoot suggested by Fourshadow. (Thanks man!) Here's another small preview at what's to come. Namely, Airazor.

Now, as ever, comments, thoughts, and critique are welcome.

Part 24: The Van De Graaff

Greece: The Island of Rhodes

If it were any other time on the Island of Rhodes, Fowler or Spitfire would have every right to be very concerned about hostile aliens being revealed to the public at large. Thankfully, it wasn’t a time to be concerned, as for one thing it was under cover of night the Decepticons laid siege to the island in search of a rumored Predacon, and secondly, currently there was a particularly nasty storm front coming through.

The ancient Acropolis, that was the battlefield as weapons fired under the howling, slashing winds and rolling thunder.

It was supposed to be a simple snatch and grab for the Decepticons involved, that’s all it was supposed to be. But as ever, things were often easier said than done. The rumors coming out of Greece told of Orthrus, a giant two-headed dog -Brother of the much more famous Cerberus- supposedly slain by Heracles. Evidently, that wasn’t entirely the case as shown by the poor Vehicon currently being cooked to a crisp and reduced to molten metal and slag by the Predacon’s plasma breath attacks. Nor was Orthrus a two-headed dog, as eyewitness reports and legends stated. No, he was actually a two-headed, twin-tailed dragon calling himself Sinnertwin.

Now, the legends around Orthrus stated he was a guardian of the cattle of some guy called Geryon. Personally, right now Breakdown doubted those myths even as he watched the aptly named Sinnertwin’s heads rip one poor Vehicon clean in half Energon flying everywhere. He suspected Sinnertwin would have more likely eaten the cattle.

“Rip Autobots! Rrr, rip and tear!” Sinnertwin snarled as he tossed the two pieces aside, before firing more blasts of plasma at the Decepticons. This led Breakdown to one of two conclusions. A, Sinnertwin wasn’t intelligent enough to differate between sides or B, he just didn’t give a damn. Breakdown honestly wasn’t sure which yet.

Swapping one of his hands out for a massive sledgehammer, he charged towards the monstrous Predacon. “Karma's a bitch, now think twice before attacking an innocent. You're nothing more to me then garbage and hey.... It’s garbage day! Time for you to have a little… Ahem, Breakdown!”

He slammed the hammer into the side of one of Sinnertwin’s heads and sparks flew as the Predacon staggered to the side, before one of the two heads lunged and grabbed Breakdown by the arm before raising him up high and then slamming him back down into the ground with a mighty earthshaking thud.

As Breakdown picked himself up off the ground metal groaning out in pain, Brawl pointed at the Predacon. “Concentrate your fire, take him out! I don’t care what the boss says, this mission’s a bust!”

For the record, the original plan was to capture Sinnertwin, throw an electro-shock collar around his neck like with Darksteel to ensure his loyalty but it seems Sinnertwin had severe objections to this idea.

With a shifting and whirring of parts, Brawl shifted to his tank form before firing off several rounds almost as loud as the thunder of the storm itself. “Heh, I’ve fought bigger monsters than you, you two-headed lizard! Eradicons, suppressing fire! Drive him back and box him in!”

Brawl may not have looked or sounded like it, but he was far more than just some brute with heavy metal muscle and powerful armament. He was Onslaught’s second in command for a reason. He knew how to work a battlefield.

Laser fire from the Eradicons drove Sinnertwin back, just in time for a tank shell fired from Brawl to hit and knock Sinnertwin back into some age-old mural, stone flying everywhere. Groaning, the Predacon picked himself up off the ground only to get slammed back into it by another hit from Breakdown’s hammer. He didn’t move, and Breakdown sighed in relief.

“Thought that’d never end, I’ll have to commend Brawl for his tactics. Shame, or perhaps not, about us not being able to bring this one in.” he thought to himself. He reached his hand out towards Sinnertwin to feel for a spark pulse and performed a little gesture in the air creating the Cybertronian Glyph for Light Follower.

“And stay down, you piece of slag!” Brawl shouted, only to be caught off guard when Sinnertwin’s crimson red eyes shot wide open -Evidently he was faking death- and his two heads lunged and grabbed Breakdown by the legs.

He then held him upside down right in front of the Decepticons’ guns, using him as a meat shield of sorts. He was using one head to hold him, and the other to speak.

“So, whatcha gonna do now, slaggers?” Sinnertwin asked, his unnaturally sharp fangs that no creature should have ever had now gleaming in the moonlight that was just barely peeking through the clouds. “You gonna shoot one of your own teammates? I know how much your kind value loyalty…”

Brawl hesitated, although he wouldn’t like to admit it at the time but he hesitated to fire. He may have had a lot of flaws his brutality chiefest amongst them but some of his old Autobot programmings still persisted. And that included loyalty to his teammates, no matter how much he may or may not have disliked them.

If it were any other situation, like say if it were a Vehicon being held up as a meat shield he would have pulled the trigger and pumped Sinnertwin with megawatts of electricity from his rifle, but in this case…

“I… I…” Brawl started.

“Just shoot him, you pit-be-damned fool!” Breakdown shouted. Brawl fingered the trigger, but still he couldn’t bring himself to fire off a shot.

“Slaggit…” Brawl thought to himself, as he began to lower his rifle. No charged particle shots would be fired. At least... not yet.

Seeing Brawl’s hesitance, Sinnertwin gave out a vicious smirk. “Just as I thought. Here, catch!” he shouted, before tossing Breakdown into Brawl’s forces sending the Eradicons flying and Breakdown himself into the ruins of an old temple dedicated to the sun god Apollo.

Parts shifting and whirring to the classic sounds of Tsche-chu-chu-chu-tsche! Sinnertwin transformed to Robot mode, necks folding back with the entire rear section of his body becoming the legs, and his front legs becoming arms.

With a loud roar, he shoulder-charged Brawl like this American football player before Brawl simply side-stepped out of the way and fired his rifle sending what he thought would be enough pure electricity to take down Sinnertwin for good. But evidently not, given Sinnertwin seemed to be only even more pissed off than ever. Sinnertwin pulled out a rifle of his own and fired shot after shot at Brawl destroying the ancient ruins around them, bricks flying everywhere.

“Suppressing fire, take him down!” Brawl bellowed at his troops though inwardly he had his doubts given that nothing seemed to really slow down this monstrosity of a Predacon. Sure enough, he was right on the money on that aspect given that even with the fire laid down upon the Predacon, Sinnertwin just barreled through the forces, ripping and tearing them apart with his own bare hands if needed.

Like a lot of his fellow Predacons, Sinnertwin was this horrific insult to nature itself. Back on Cybertron, he’d frequently patrolled his little slice of heaven -or Hell depending on how you chose to look at it- looking for any intruders. And if he found any, he would rip, tear and maul them to shreds just because he simply wanted to. He was a humanitarian in that aspect. Given his multiple heads, and sadistic nature this was something nobody wanted to witness to be quite frank.

Brawl had to wonder what exactly Onslaught was thinking when he asked for this thing to be Darksteel’s replacement. At least the Hippogriff alt-moded Predacon once had some semblance of morals. This creature did not.

“Is that fear you are feeling, Decepticon? Yes... my spark, it feeds on terror. Let it grow! Let it consume your circuitry! Feel it, yes, feel it! Feel the fear!” Sinnertwin hissed out. “Your persistence is futile, I can only rise again ever the stronger!”

“Then in that case,” Breakdown shouted as he ran towards Sinnertwin with his hammer at the ready. “Let us give you that little bit further to fall!”

With that, he smashed his hammer into Sinnertwin’s face, armor shattering on impact and nearly caving in the Predacon’s head.

“You know what…” Breakdown growled as he and Sinnertwin grappled each other for dominance. “I’m really slaggin’ tired of you and your rhetoric.”

With that, he pulled back his fist, and slammed it into Sinnertwin’s face once more like a powerful piston or a piledriver making him stagger back. Sinnertwin growled and wiped away Energon from his mouth.

“Oh, so you can actually do something. You’re not just this big pile of oil and energon fluid ready to be spilled at my leisure. I do like it when my prey puts up a fight…” He smirked.

“Good, then you’ll really enjoy this!” Brawl roared, as he pulled one of Sinnertwin’s arms right off at the seams, sparks and energon flying everywhere as he did so before using this very same arm as a bludgeon and clubbed Sinnertwin in the face several times.

Finally, from the sheer loss of energon, Sinnertwin fell and slipped into stasis lock. Panting hard, Brawl dropped the arm and motioned for one of the surviving Vehicons to place the collar around Sinnertwin’s neck.

“Sure… Sure we shouldn’t make it one of those explosive collars like the ones we put on Steeljaw and Filch?” Breakdown advised in a wary tone of voice his spark beat slowly returning to the normal rate.

“Onslaught’s specific orders were for this type of collar, but looking at the fight he put up, I’ll advise him on it. This one… he’s going to be a loose cannon. That much is for sure…” Brawl grumbled, signaling for a Groundbridge and dragging Sinnertwin through it. Breakdown grabbed the arm and followed.

Unknown to them, they were being watched by this massive silver griffon-type transformer with a sword for a tail, who with a shifting of parts turned into this chainmail-clad knight transformer with an Autobot sigil branded over his former Predacon one.

“So, seems the Decepticons are getting just that little bit more active,” the wizened old warrior mused to himself, rubbing his faceplates with a finger. One of his hands briefly went for his sword, wondering if he should ambush the Decepticons and finish them off knowing they were undoubtedly tired from the battle with his former comrade, but the Autobot decided against it. Best to watch and wait, see what they did. “Perhaps… Just perhaps it’s time for the Knights of Cybertron to step in once more.”

This Knight knew the locations of all his former comrades, like Scylla and Sky-Byte. The question was, were they still online or if so did they even want to join the battle once more? Most of them, they’d had enough of the war and the shedding of energon and wanted to be left alone.

“Graah,” the Knight mused to himself. “Won’t know unless I try. Time to see if I can find that old snake Snaptrap... “ he continued to think, before shifting back to his griffon form and taking to the sky. Stormreign, he’d love to know about this new development. Maybe it was time to bring the scourge of the dragonfire back to the earth and wipe the slate clean. It seems even with Megatron’s banishment of the Predacons to Earth, there would always be a past that would come back to haunt their kind. Dragonicus just hoped he didn’t have to involve the humans in his war against the Decepticons, this was their world after all. The Predacons may have been here first, but humanity took Earth for their own and Dragonicus respected them for that. They were a persistent little species, and he’d love to see how they evolved. And if needed, maybe an old knight in shining armor would be there to protect them.

Colorado: The Van De Graaff

Perceptor honestly didn’t know quite what to expect when he stepped onto the floors of the Van De Graaff but what he certainly wasn’t expecting was the unmistakable rusting stench of the dead. Even as he ducked his head to avoid some low hanging wires, he saw the body of a Cybertronian, sea blue and lime green in color resting up against a wall, with one of his arms blown off. Next to him, was an old friend Perceptor recognized and did his old spark well to see still functioning. Hoist, having temporarily dropped a medical kit and was shutting the dead Autobot’s optics one last time.

“Oh Tow-Line, how little you got to live, and how sad your life was knowing nothing but endless war,” Hoist whispered, shaking his head and closing his own optics briefly as he drew the Cybertronic glyphs for light-follower in mid-air with his finger. “May Primus in all his grace show you mercy in the Allspark when this world did not.”

“I’m… sorry,” Perceptor stated softly, as he rested a hand on one of Hoist’s shoulders. He’d never been good with comforting others honestly. There was a reason why he shut himself up in his labs so often, so he wouldn’t have to face the realities of the real world. “A friend?”

“Not really, no,” Hoist sighed. “Just a fellow refugee, I barely knew him as it was. But he was a kind-sparked one, that much I did know. From what Smallfoot told me, he did idolize me and wanted to be a medical officer just like me.” he continued. “Mechanic, that’s what his job on the ship was, at least according to the crew manifest.”

Hoist held up a small datapad, and Perceptor sadly noted that there were so many names he recognized over the years with a red strike through them. Torca, Alpha Bravo, Rook, Rust Dust, Dust Up, Stratosphere, Greasepit. Just to name a few, really.

“None of them, they weren’t just another member of Cybertron’s many gun-toting conscripts to me, Perceptor, Some of them… Maybe not all of them w-were my friends.”

“I understand your grief, all too well Hoist, lost a friend of my own recently you must understand. But remember and forgive me if this sounds cold but we have to… No, we must concern ourselves with those we can still help. The living.”

“Sounds like you’ve been taking a few cues from Ratchet,” Hoist remarked as he turned to look at his old friend. “You were never nearly this nice before. You were always cold, logical. Shut up in those labs of yours.”

“Maybe I just didn’t have the luxury of that. Being kind, I mean. When you’re no longer at war for a time, you can change. Plus, fight’s just become that much more personal these days. It’s no longer people I barely knew, it’s old friends now.” Perceptor replied.

“That could do it,” Hoist sighed as he began walking down the corridor with the others following. “Only just recently woke up from the stasis of space travel, only now just recently finding the bodies and beginning repairs. With a little bit of luck, maybe just one day the Van De Graaff will fly again. I’m done running from the battlefield. Heard Onslaught wanted to start up a war that’s apparently been long over from what Smallfoot told me,” Hoist continued, clenching his fist making it crackle with electricity. “I won’t let any more friends be lost to a war-monger and his madness.”

“Keep up that attitude, and maybe someday you’ll make Prime,” Smallfoot chirped, always the voice of cheerfulness even in the face of tragedy.

“Don’t joke like that,” Hoist commented. “Me? A Prime, now that’s a good laugh!”

“Who said I was joking?” Smallfoot remarked walking off with a small shrug.

“Well, Optimus did come from being an Archivist of all things…” Perceptor mused, adding in his own two cents as the group continued their walk through the ship’s corridors. “Funny how it’s always the most humble of beginnings that make the greatest of leaders.”

“No kidding!” Outback stated, with a dark laugh. “Nominus, a real bastard as much as I hate to speak ill of the dead, he came from nobility. Think he was as arrogant as the Pit even before he made Prime if I remember correctly.”

“Wooooowwww, you guys seem to have really bad luck in leadership,” a familiar voice came from behind everyone, and they all turned to look to see Lemon Zest looking up at them. “Just sayin’.”

“How long has she been there…?” Perceptor wondered aloud and looked at Smallfoot and Outback who could only shrug.

“Er, do humans have the ability to clone themselves?” Smallfoot asked, as she watched the familiar form of Juniper Montage leap down from the ceiling. Sugarcoat, adjusting her glasses stepped out from behind a crate. “...Because last I checked they weren’t with us when we were talking with Fowler.”

“Haven’t you heard? Humans multiply,” Perceptor deadpanned, rubbing his temples. “Really, you had to come along didn’t you?”

“For the record,” Sugarcoat remarked, rubbing her glasses in annoyance. “I just want to say I was dragged into this by these two numbskulls.” she stated, pointing at her friends.

“Hey, an Autobot ship’s an Autobot ship,” Lemon shrugged. “I wanted to meet the new guys, so sue me!”

“...Same, though I wasn’t really expecting…” Juniper continued, trying to search for the right words. “Oh, how do I put this politely? Such a…”

“Mess?” Outback remarked, making Juniper blink in surprise over his bluntness. “Agh, don’t worry squirt. You can say it aloud. We all know the ship’s in quite the sorry state.”

“Wow, you sure like to say things as they are,” Juniper remarked in surprise. “...Sorta like Sugarcoat in a way,” she teased, nudging a very unamused Sugarcoat with her shoulder.

“Eh, I’ve never seen sense in beating around the bush really. There’s a reason I never became a doctor or a field medic. I’d probably tell someone they’re going to die right out, no sense of sugarcoating it at all. I call ‘em like I see them. That’s my motto!”

“...Yep, sounds like Sugarcoat alright,” Juniper remarked. “You sure you aren’t her long-lost Cybertronian brother?”

Sugarcoat only harrumphed and tilted her head skywards while Outback just burst out laughing. “You and I squirt, sounds like we’re going to get along great! What’s your name by the way?”

“Juniper, Juniper Montage,” Juniper replied. “Yours?”

“Outback, pleased to meet ya squirt,” the Nebulan accented minibot stated, kneeling down to Juniper’s level and offering his hand, which Juniper gladly took. “And welcome to our home away from home, the Van De Graaff. Place is a pile of slag and scrap now, but when it was new, one of the shining jewels of the galaxy from what I’ve been told. Pride of its fleet. Tough old bird, I’ll give it that.”

“Well, I'll be reprogrammed with a rivet roller,” Hubcap remarked. “Humans, actual humans! Never thought I’d see the day when one or in this case three stepped aboard our fine ship,” the red Autobot remarked. “Pleasure is all ours. Welcome aboard, miladies!” he said, with a very over the top bow. Hoist just facepalmed.

“Girls, meet Hubcap,” Perceptor remarked. “One of the finest communications specialists this side of the Baldigus Belt.”

“And my makeshift assistant in repairing this old junk heap,” Hoist remarked. “Speaking of which, weren’t you trying to get the auto-cannons back online?” he asked, with a critically raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, so sorry. Just heard the commotion, wanted to see what was what. That’s all,” Hubcap apologized, twirling a wrench in his right hand and holding a welding torch in the other. “I’ll get back to work on getting those ready for battle if the time ever comes.”

He ran off, before a loud crash and a shout of “I’m okay!” came from somewhere nearby. Hoist facepalmed.

Road Rage, who had been staying mostly silent throughout this whole walk then stifled a sob as she stumbled upon the broken body of a mostly orange Autobot.

“Oh Scoop... “ she whispered.

“Was he… I mean, did you know him well?” Juniper asked.

“He… He was a friend,” Road Rage murmured, though her tone indicated something more. “Had this penchant for religion, always incorporated it in his combat style.”

“You mean he was like this… religious extremist?” Juniper asked delicately, not sure if she really wanted to know. Road Rage gave her a hard look.

“Oh, he was hardly a religious extremist, far from it actually! Scoop, he just had this habit of quoting scripture so often you wanted to shove the Covenant up his…” Road Rage trailed off, and choked on her laughter.

“I… I see.” Juniper nodded. “I… I didn’t mean any disrespect, just so you know.”

“Just… Just don’t say anything else, you understand?” Road Rage asked coldly. Juniper got the point, and shut up. After a few moments of silence, Perceptor cleared his throat.

“Okay, so who do we got?” Perceptor asked. “Alive and well, I mean?”

“Well, aside from myself, Hubcap, Smallfoot, and Hoist?” Outback replied. “There’s our Captain of this ship Pyra Magna. Plus, Night Ranger should be coming in from patrol any time soon.”

“...Small list of survivors…” Perceptor murmured to himself quietly. It was a good crew, it must have been said, but Onslaught was relentless and Primus only knew what his endgame to restart the war was. They’d need all the help they could get, and while Perceptor would gladly take this bunch he would love a few more helping hands. He then noticed Outback and Smallfoot suck in a few awkward breaths at Pyra Magna’s name.

“...Something wrong I should know about?” Perceptor asked.

“Oh, how do we put this…?” Hoist murmured. “I know there’s that old saying where there’s life there’s hope, but with Pyra…” he trailed off.

“How bad?” Perceptor asked, getting right to the point.

“Come with me, this is something you have to see for yourself,” Hoist stated, gesturing for Perceptor to follow him to the bridge. When they got there, Perceptor’s crystal blue optics widened in horror and his jaw dropped.

Pyra Magna was once a fine Autobot, and probably still was if Hoist’s information -Which Perceptor was barely paying attention to- was correct. Apparently, while coming to Earth, the Van De Graaff hit an asteroid belt and was knocked around quite a bit. But Pyra, even after the helmsman had been offlined had stayed piloting the ship down to Earth where it had impacted the mountainside it was currently lodged in.

The once majestic Autobot commander was now lying half-offline, a limb hanging loosely at her side. The other had fallen off, and a few energon leaks were present with just a few patch kits here and there barely keeping her alive.

“Did as best as I could, the only right thing to do,” Hoist remarked stiffly. “Weathered us through the storm, had to return the favor in some way I guess.”

“Okay, judging from the damage and I’m only just getting started with the physical aspects as only Primus knows what kind of damage she has to her psyche,” Perceptor mused as he walked over to the much taller Autobot and began scanning her chassis. “I’d say at the very least we’d need an Energon Transfusion, perhaps a total reformatting,” he muttered, already getting nightmarish flashbacks to Hound.

“Yeah, I’d suspected about as much…” Hoist murmured, his voice devoid of its usual jovialness. “I’ll get a stretcher ready.”

Then, they heard a choked back sob, and saw Lemon’s form dashing from the room.

“Lemon!” Smallfoot called after her, before running after the young Wondercolt. Eventually, the Minibot caught up with her somewhere outside the ship, at a cliffside overlooking the small towns and rivers and forests below. The sun was setting, casting a beautiful orange glow over the Colorado countryside.

Lemon was sitting on the edge of the cliff, small tears leaking from her eyes. Smallfoot, not entirely sure what to do, sat down next to Lemon and just let her cry into her shoulder.

“Hey, you going to be alright?” Smallfoot asked, dropping her own mask.

“...I… I don’t know. When all this started up, I was excited to be around giant robots. Wham, bam! Beating the scrap out of each other, but now… I’ve just seen so much death and…” she fought back another sob.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I’ve lost friends myself, you saw the crew. Who was it for you?”

“H-Hound,” Lemon whispered in reply, wiping away some of her tears. “He… He was a friend, helped me get together with my best bud Indigo. Y-You should meet her sometime, something tells me you two would get along. You?”

“Two friends of mine, Shatter and Dropkick. Old friends back during my academy days. Both got lucky enough to be handed the status of Triple-Changer. Wanted them to come with us, but just as the Van De Graaff was being readied for takeoff, we came under Decepticon attack. Held the line for as long as they could, but…”

Smallfoot shut her eyes in remembrance, seeing her two old friends go up in a fireball of an explosion. She had Brawl and another Decepticon, Lugnut to thank for that.

“Listen Lemon, listen well. Cherish the life you have with your friends while you have it, and keep it in your memories, because one day soon they may be just that… Ashes in the wind.” Smallfoot stated, and Lemon nodded.

“To old friends?” she asked.

“To old friends.”

Far away aboard the Darksyde, Onslaught stood over an operating table with Sinnertwin below him. He pulled out a small blade, flashing with energon. Underneath his battle mask, he smirked.

“Time for my… surgical strike.” he said as he lowered the blade to Sinnertwin's torso.

Author's Note

Okay... Whoo boy. Tough one. Gotta say. Been building up to this, the full introduction of the Van De Graaff and I can only hope I pulled it off well enough.

Now, Sinnertwin. His appearance here is in totally no way to me getting his figure here recently. I just needed a successor to Darksteel, and I figured he fit the bill as well as any. (Huge props to Aclys from Discord for telling me how a battle between him and Brawl would go down.)

As ever, comments and thoughts along with feedback are welcomed.

Part 25: The Human Factor

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Part 26: Let's Bungle in the Jungle

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Part 27: Eyes Wide Open

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Part 28: Hunted Part 1

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Part 29: Hunted Part 2

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Part 30: The Raid

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Part 31: Beginnings and Endings

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Part 14: Sympathy for the Devil (Common Ground)

It had started off simple enough for Knock Out, he supposed. Just another night drive just after the sun had set, to get away from the constant drama back at the base really. There was Swindle, trying to con everybody out of their energon for cheap and barely functional weapons. His fellow gestalt member Dead End, constantly muttering how the end was nigh. Flamewar, bitching about how she had that damned cop right in her sights before his partners stepped in during the last mission, -Knock Out could only guess that she meant Prowl when they were in Japan or wherever- and of course, last but not least Brawl grumbling about how he didn’t have anything to shoot.

So, it was no small surprise then Knock Out decided to take a drive through the timberlands outside of Canterlot just for some simple peace and quiet. He switched on the radio as he drove, the moonlight shining through the tall pines illuminating the red metal that mostly made up his form. Tall, lonely trees flanked either side of the lonely pass he found himself on, and the moon shone down, in a half moon crescent shape. As he turned a corner, Knock Out found himself inside a tunnel, and he let himself speed up just a little, to hear his own 712 engine roar with a long and lonely howl, the tunnel’s acoustics only amplifying it. Now, Knock Out, unlike most cons actually gave a damn about what alt-mode he chose, and made a point on looking up the different vehicles he had a selection of. Now, some of it could just be applied to his vanity really, but in his mind if you were an automobile you might as well look good while being one, right? The specs on this particular model, labeled by the humans as a One-77 for whatever reason, they’d caught his eye. It bore a naturally aspirated 7,312 cc engine developing near 750 Horsepower. Hardly anywhere near what the vehicles on Cybertron could get up to, but it was just nice enough for his tastes.

He’d read, on the website of the car’s constructors out of idle curiosity that the car, and he remembered the quote directly: “It represents what is possibly the world's most desirable automotive art form, with an immensely rigid lightweight carbon fibre monocoque clad in a seamless bodyshell handcrafted from aluminium at its heart.”

Knock Out couldn’t really argue with that. These humans, he had to admit knew exactly what they were doing at times. He remembered this model had been given awards, such as the Concorso d’Eleganza Design Award for Concept Cars and Prototypes, the ‘Best Design’ award by the UK motoring magazine Auto Express amongst a few others. It played into his vanity a bit more that he now knew that his car design had won a few awards simply by looking damn good.

An old disco song was coming out through his alt-mode’s stereo. Knock Out idly hummed the lyrics to himself out of boredom. He didn’t know quite the reason why, but it… resonated with him.
“It was a Monday
A day like any other day
I left a small town
For the apple in decay

“It was my destiny
It's what we needed to do
They were telling me
I'm telling you

“I was inside looking outside
The millions of faces
But still I'm alone
Waiting, hours of waiting
Paying a penance
I was longing for home
I'm looking out for the two of us…”

This old station, and the roar of his own engine were the only sounds his audio receptors picked up for the next half-hour or so as he continued his drive along this lonely old trail, nothing but the horizon and the lines on the road in front of him, the music beginning to fade off into the distance as if it was nothing but a dream. Gave him a good amount of time to reflect on how he ended up in his current situation.

“Hands where I can see them Con!” a feminine voice shouted as a white and blue Autobot pointed a pistol at Knock Out, standing over a mangled body with its chest ripped open. Knock Out’s hands were covered in the distinctive sharp blue tint of Energon as he clutched a T-Cog in his hands. Her voice, Strongarm’s voice dripped with a sense of loss, betrayal.

Tires squealing as he tried to force the hurtful memories away, Knock Out continued onwards into the night.

He eventually paused in front of a crystal glass-like lake, its waters calm, peaceful and silent. No movement came from the lake itself. A Canadian lynx, standing on the other side of the waters had stopped by and paused to take a drink on a late-night hunt. It looked up at him and then ran off into the woodland.

“What’s that old phrase?” Knock Out mused. “Oh yes, there's always a bigger fish.” he smirked. He remembered now, he’d been here once before, when he had his battle the Autobot aptly named Road Rage. He winced, feeling the phantom pains of where she’d nearly shoved his own electric prod into his spark casing.

“Even for moi, it seems…” he muttered. He had a feeling what was wrong with Road Rage, he’d seen her condition before on Cybertron. Quite honestly, it was something he wouldn't wish on anyone, not even the slagger who put him in this predicament or even Onslaught himself if only for the simple reasons that they would go even more insane than they already were.

Sure, Onslaught may have tried to hide it the best he could, but Knock Out knew the truth. He may have normally been the hands-off type as the humans called it, but Onslaught did go into battle at times. He just preferred planning behind the scenes, laying out battle tactics, strategies and the like and watching his soldiers do the dirty work. It was only when the plans got botched up by something, or usually someone did Onslaught join the fray, a fury of gunfire and rage spilling energon right and left, his carefully composed mask of calm tranquility dropped. There was a reason Bruticus was named as such, and feared so, with snippets of Onslaught’s personality chip in his mind. Of course, most combiners really weren’t in their right heads anyways, the stress of five minds working together forcing quite the strain on things.

The simple fact of the matter was if he had access to the right tools, and was allowed near Road Rage and an operating table Knock Out might be able to lend a hand. There was, of course, the simple problems of the Autobots not trusting him to actually give the help required. And why should they? In their optics, he was a deranged doctor who ripped T-Cogs out of the living to give to others.

As he took back to the roads once more, memories flashed through his mind.

He supposed it all started, with the Genericons, precursors of sorts to the Vehicons. Frontline, cannon fodder. Knock Out, he could tell at once what he was dealing with via the badge alone. Size was larger than the normal, and the colors were a lighter shade of violet. They were on the run, from battle. Knock Out, suffice it to say, was surprised by their boldness. He knew the spines the bots possessed, or what little they had of them anyways. Now, Decepticon deserters were never treated lightly. Not by a long shot. They were often hunted down by the DJD, the Decepticon Justice Division. By justice, one meant unmarked graves. Of course, that assumed there was enough left of their victims to bury. Traitors, deserters, and any other form of transgressors to the Decepticon cause end up on what was called: “The List”. The Division, fanatic enforcers of Megatron’s ideals -And it was worth saying, even he was disgusted by them and called them heretics- were led by ‘Lord’ Deathsaurus. They hunted down the criminals in their ship, the ‘Peaceful Tyranny”. An oxymoron if there ever was one. And then once the target was found, executed in the most brutally messy way possible. Knock Out knew he was inviting trouble to his door as soon as he helped these soldiers, but he did it anyways. Part of the medic’s code, help whoever asked no matter their beliefs, allegiance, sex or creed.

Now, Knock Out swung to both sides of the fence in his clinic, treating both Autobot and Con alike. He wanted no part of this foolish civil war that was rapidly tearing Cybertron apart. He was neutral and was just one of only three Cybertronians manning the clinic in his home city of Polyhex, alongside Red Alert, and of course, Pharma.

Pharma, what could be said about him? Well, for one he hated Decepticons with a violent passion and was against letting in these Genericons from the start. But Red Alert and Knock Out managed to swing them to their side of things. Now, both Red Alert and Pharma were amazing doctors, it must be said. Both of them had performed four-way fuel transplants at one point or another, with Pharma actually being one of the donors.

They were as different as night and day, with Red Alert being a pacifist who turned into a hovervan and hated fighting of any kind, while Pharma actually defended the clinic against any trespassers with his sword titled Bleeding Edge. Bit of dark medical humor, at a guess. He preferred to take to the skies in jet form, and often used his magnet to pull Cybertronians out of distress.

He was about to send the Genericons back out into the streets, Knock Out remembered when Red Alert spoke up.

“They don’t have weapons for the Prime’s sake! They’ve civilianized, and clearly traumatized at that! What do you think they’re going to do, whimper us to death?” Red Alert pleaded.

“Alright…” Pharma sighed. “Just a simple patch-up job, that should be enough to satisfy Article Seven, and then we’ll turn them over to High Command and ask what should be done with them.”

“And if the DJD show up?” Knock Out had asked. “I’ve heard the Autobot Swerve talk about-”

“That’s all he ever does, talk.” Pharma deadpanned.

“Anyways, Swerve told me he’d seen the aftermath of what happened when Deathsaurus and Tarn got through with one of their… victims. Traumatized him for six months, he wasn’t able to speak in that time. Said it was the worst thing that ever happened to him!” Knock Out exclaimed.

“What, seeing the DJD?” Pharma asked, head tilted and eyebrow raised. He’d been carefully watching this one Genericon, who seemed to be the leader of the trio that had been brought in. He was a contrast to the other two, to be sure. While they sported dark purples and various shades of gray, the third was much brighter in color tones. Flashy, even. Starting from his red face and yellow optics, one could look downwards to see the rest of his paint job. His chest was mostly blue save for the silver-white vents near his shoulders and bore a shiny yellow cockpit in the center of his torso plating. His shoulders themselves were blue which stretched down to his elbow joint where it changed to a stark bone white. This color pattern continued throughout the rest of his body.

“No, not being able to speak.” Knock Out corrected him and Pharma chuckled a little. Now Pharma, you hadn’t seen him work. There was a certain fluidity in how he did his healing and mending, you just didn’t build hands like that. Despite his many flaws, Pharma was a master. Any patient that came into his ward, chances are you were probably alive and well even if you had been ripped in half by a Dynobot’s jaws. Pharma was the best medic alive, and that was the end of it.

Knock Out found himself ripped out of his memories by a screeching of tires as something attempted to swerve out of his way, and then he crashed headlong into them with a horrific BANG!

It was with a drowsy consciousness that Knock Out finally awoke, and he realized with horror he’d hit a civilian driving home in her old Bugatti Type 50. He knew the car at once, considering how recognizable it was from any other vehicle on the road. And how could you not? It stuck out, like some dangerous black widow. Befitting of its driver really as Knock Out would later learn. The car was old fashioned but beautiful. It's paint style was a mixture of black and red The sides and hood was all red stretching out almost into the shape of a drop. The rest of the car was a sleek and shiny black, a nice wheel cover stretching up and over the wheels in a very curvy design. The trunk of the car was relatively small compared to the rest of it, sticking out like a jagged lump on its back with two spare tires hanging off of it. The roof curved over the seats smoothly comfortably seating one person. Or at least, that’s the way it should have been before Knock Out smashed into this work of art on wheels. There was another car in the area, one that had pulled up upon seeing the crash, some generic brown sedan. He didn’t care for the model, so he didn’t recognize what or who made it. He did however, recognize exactly who was getting out of the sedan to help however. Agent William Fowler and his daughter, Sunny Flare.

He watched with fascination as Fowler worked diligently on his patient. She was a woman around his age, with cyan skin and spectacles that had fallen off her face. He couldn’t see either of them clear enough, but with the front window gone he could make out some movement as the organic stabilized his patient.

It amazed him how similar his moves were to his own. Sure, this was hardly a clinic, but he could tell the similarities. He’d been at the operating table, in a war and while this human hardly had anyone trying to kill her, her silent pleas of desperation to her god and the sheer isolation were very similar to what he’d worked with back on Cybertron. It was all-too sickeningly familiar to the mech. He’d wanted to get away from all of this, and yet Onslaught had dragged him on his little crusade simply because Knock Out had nowhere else to go.

Carefully, he gave the human femme a once-over with his onboard scanning equipment. Broken bones, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Severe spinal injuries, and yet somehow she was miraculously clinging to life. Knock Out never gave humans a lot of credit, but after tonight his opinion would probably be changing for the better, he mused. They certainly had this strength about them. Something far stronger than any Cybertronian steel.

Knock Out then noted something else, and it wasn’t his damaged finish. During the crash, he’d been knocked back into a telephone pole as he believed the humans called it and his fuel line had been breached. Combine his energon with that of the already leaking oil from the woman’s car and an explosion could very well be imminent.

Now, if he transformed, he could very well easily leave the human to her fate, but no. He would not. This went against every code in his medical creed. Besides, he caused this with his own carelessness, and now he had to clean up his own mess.

Making his choice, with of shifting of mechanical parts Knock Out transformed, which caused both Fowler and his offspring to stare up at him in quite frankly understandable trepidation.

“E-Excuse me?” Fowler barked out as he began moving the woman to his own car. “Me, take orders from a Con?”

“No, take orders from a medic,” Knock Out replied. He’d also noted the way Fowler was carrying the woman, and how he held her tighter than should have been normal for any random person just stopping to help. He also noted that Sunny was casting nervous glances at the woman every now and then. “Now get in!” he barked, even as he transformed back into vehicle mode, and both of his doors opened.

Fowler, as he wrapped gauze around the woman’s neck handed her over to Sunny as he took the driver’s seat.

“Floor it!” he yelled, and Knock Out didn’t even need to be told as his tires squealed and he peeled off into the distance just as a large fireball was visible in his rearview mirror.

“Honestly?” Knock Out mused, even as he drove up the road to Canterlot, his onboard navigation system set to the nearest hospital. “Absolutely nothing, I’m just doing the right thing.”

“Yeah, forgive me if I don’t believe you for a moment,” Fowler deadpanned. “You nearly got my w-Er, Ms. Cinch killed, and the jury’s still out on that I should point out!” he snapped, not noticing his little slip-up.

“So that explains things…” Knock Out mused. “Don’t think I’m stupid, I saw the way both you and your daughter caressed her. Even without your little slip of the tongue, I would have figured it out eventually. So, wife huh?”

“Ex-wife,” Fowler corrected. “Sunny and I… Well, after certain events me and Cinch slipped apart. Sadly, as part of the divorce settlement Cinch gets to see my daughter once a month. I… I uh may have tagged along just to be careful.” he admitted tugging at his tie a little.

“Overprotective father, whose daughter happens to be involved in an Autobot crusade to hunt criminals like me down?” Knock Out sighed even as he rounded a corner. “Yeah, can’t entirely say I blame you for watching her every move.”

“It’s not just that,” Sunny corrected. “Doubtful you remember this, but there was an… incident last year at this big event called the Friendship Games. Well, I call it the Fiendship Games but that’s beside the point.”

“Been surfing the web, or at least the darknet. Rumors abound of two magical girls going at it, and I caught Youtube videos of vines emerging from portals around a dirt race track for bikes,” Knock Out admitted. “I assume Ms. Cinch was involved in this somehow?”

“Well, indirectly, yes. She was the former Principal of my high school, Crystal Prep. Me and my friends, I’m ashamed to admit helped Cinch push this other friend of ours -if we can even call her that after the shit we pulled- into just using a power she didn’t understand.” Sunny sighed in a mixture of self-disgust, and guilt.

“And that led to the magical girl battle, right?” Knock Out guessed.

“Yeah,” Sunny continued. “Suffice it to say, nobody was pleased with all of this. Including my dad. He divorced my mom soon after he found how much danger I’d been put in,”

“Must have been rough,” Knock Out sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sunny replied, brushing his concerns off. “Glad to be out from my mother’s thumb actually,”

“We’d been growing apart for years anyhow,” Fowler picked up the story “Both of us, getting far too wrapped up in our jobs for our own good. A divorce was inevitable really. Her putting my only daughter in danger was just the last straw. But, all the same really…”

“You still care for her, right?” Knock Out surmised.

“Course I do, she used to be my wife at one point!” Fowler told him in return. “Sure, I’m a cold-hearted bastard at times, but I’m not emotionless. Now, can you do me a favor and shut up and drive?”

Knock Out sighed, and complied. Eventually, not even an hour later they pulled into a nearby hospital. The former neutral turned Decepticon watched anxiously as doctors and nurses rushed out upon seeing Ms. Cinch’s state and put her on a gurney before rushing her inside with Fowler following. Sunny stayed, however, and patted Knock Out’s hood when nobody was watching.

“Never thought I’d say this to a Con, but… thank you,” she whispered and looked as if she was about to dart off to her father’s side but before she did so she added: “I’ll be sure to tell the Autobots about this, maybe put in a good word for you okay?”

‘Well, that was unexpected…” he muttered to himself in pure, unabridged shock. Even as he watched Cinch get led inside, his mind flashed back to years long since passed.

Knock Out had been growing suspicious for a while now. It was near what he knew to be the war’s end. Slag, if he’d heard correctly the war was already over now that Megatron and Optimus Prime had sat down for peace talks. And so life went on, at least on the surface of the Polyhex Clinic. Like I said, Knock Out had been growing suspicious for a while now.

Tarn was supposed to have burnt out his T-Cog long ago, from rapid over usage to the drug called Nuke. No thanks to this over-reliance of the stuff, it was unsurprising to no-one when the infamous warrior’s Cog finally went. It was a great load off everyone’s minds. And yet, Knock Out had heard several nasty rumors that Tarn’s very distinctive tank alt-mode had been sight several times all over parts of Cybertron, ranging from the Sea of Rust towards the now-rebuilt city of New Kaon. The rest of the Decepticon Justice Division had been either rounded up, or destroyed long ago. Helex, Kaon, Tesarus, Vos, they were all in prison. ‘Lord’ Deathsaurus, had his spark blown out personally by Megatron’s fusion cannon after a prolonged and quite legendary aerial battle for supremacy.

He had famously stated after walking over the Con’s rusted corpse: “Justice? Please, give me a break. Now that’s just bad comedy. Now, let this stand as an example to anyone who gets the intelligent idea of filling his shoes.”

That swiftly put an end to things. The Decepticon Justice Division, in its most infamous state, was no more. The last of an ugly, dirty era had simply been swept away like rust in the wind. If Tarn had any sense, then he’d headed for the hills. But apparently, Tarn’s lust of the spillage of energon overcame any sense of reasoning he might have had, and now he’d been supposedly spotted once more, this time in Iacon of all places. The former Autobot capital. Knock Out had to give him points for sheer outright nerve. Tarn, whatever his many faults must have had bearings of sheer chrome steel. No, make that titanium.

But the obvious question was, where was Tarn getting his T-Cogs from? Knock Out had a sneaking suspicion, and he didn’t like it one bit. But it had to be confirmed. For the past few cycles, Pharma’s personal ward had been deadlocked to all but his personal handprint.

No small problem really. Normally, he wouldn’t think of doing this, but time was of the essence. Pulling out a small pistol he kept for self-defense, Knock Out blasted the door open. In front of him was Pharma, hands swapped out for chainsaws and also in front of him was Red Alert of all bots, chest sliced open and the rest of his body mangled beyond almost all recognition. The only way Knock Out was able to identify him, in fact, was the coloring and the distinctive paint job the former Protectobot bore.

“I should have known…” Knock Out growled, switching one of his hands out for a medical saw on pure instinct. The other hand still clutched his pistol. “You’ve been awfully quiet as of late. Thought it strange you stopped taking patients when you yourself said: “Life must persist.” At first, I thought it was because the war ended, but then the occasional patient showed up in my clinic and every so often, after I’d turned all the lights off for the night I’d come back next morning and find them missing. Now some, I would assume they’d gotten better but others? Backstreet, remember him? He was infected with the rust virus! There was no way he would survive the night! I’d just tried to keep him placated while his spark slowly faded away. I often wondered what happened to him. Now I know.”

“Of course you realize there’s no way you can prove any of this. No security cameras in the entire clinic. Doctor-Patient confidentiality, you must understand. Besides, who likes Big Brother watching them anyhow?” Pharma sneered. “So yes, I admit I took up Tarn’s offer to try and find replacements for his cog. Rare condition, but treatable. Trouble is, he doesn’t want the treatment, not buying what I’m selling. He just wants his next fix.”

“So, what? You started selling organs to Tarn just for a bit of cash on the side!?!” Knock Out exclaimed, appalled.

“In the beginning, despite my best efforts, patients just kept dying on me. Demand increased,” Pharma stated calmly, with a small sigh. “A pity really...”

“So you started killing them.” Knock Out said in disgust, lunging for Pharma with his saw-blade only for the medic to block it with his own weapons.

“No, I started making judgments on their survival rate,” Pharma corrected him, even as sparks flew, before he kicked Knock Out backwards into a wall. A pistol clattered the floor, and Pharma crushed it under his heel strut. “Sometimes if they really were clinging to life, I just… let’s say helped them relax their grip,” he remarked, his voice silent as the grave before he smirked and held a hand up to his audio receptors. “Oh, you hear that? Sirens. Police on are their way. That little door you blasted in? Tripped the silent alarm. While we’ve been standing here talking, they’ve come running. Now, obviously, I can’t let them find me, so… toodles.”

With that, he vanished through a trapdoor in the floor. Knock Out screamed in rage, and frantically rushed over to Red Alert.

“Listen… Listen buddy, gonna fix you up real fast you understand? I’ll… I’ll get you proper help!” Knock Out cried as he desperately tried to mend what he could with a nearby laser scalpel and using his other hand to try and refit Red Alert’s T-Cog.

But it was all for naught, as Red Alert’s optics began to fade, and his body began to turn a distinctive dull gray color. And then, he heard the sound of a weapon cocking.

There’d been a police shootout not too far up the road, some civil dissidents and anarchists and both Strongarm and her boss, Prowl had been caught in the crossfire. Prowl was none the worse for wear, a few patch-ups from Red Alert had been all that he’d needed but Strongarm on the other hand?

Well, that was a different story entirely. A few unlucky shots near her spark casing, and she was bleeding energon profusely. It was only with the fast work of Knock Out that she’d survived the operation, and that wasn’t counting the long road to recovery she’d been on just trying to learn to walk and transform again. Knock Out was there as well, helping her every step of the way alongside her Conjunx Endura. Ironically, that happened to be the very same Genericon colored in that flashy red, white, and blue paint job -Nacelle, he’d learned his name was- that Strongarm had bonded to.

And now both officers stood holding Knock Out at gunpoint, and cuffing him. Well, trying to anyways. He had, just before he’d been cuffed, managed to shift to vehicle mode and dart out the front doors of the clinic. Knock Out, now he knew this wouldn’t make him look good in the eyes of the law, but who would believe him that Pharma was the true culprit? The answer, nobody. He was a star in the eyes of Cybertron, and the sheer idea of him doing organ transplants for wanted criminals was simply unbelievable in anyone’s mind.

He had nowhere to run, and he knew it. Well, nowhere to run except into the claws of the former Elite Guardsman and now wanted criminal and Combaticon Onslaught.

In the end, he wondered if it was worth it. Just running like he did. Now his reputation was ruined, and the only place he had solace was in a wrecked ship full of almost completely insane Decepticons and various other criminals who would give Pharma a run for their money. Out of the frying pan, and into the fire as it were.

Eventually, he made his decision and sent a coded transmission on an old Autobot frequency channel saying one simple thing.

“I’m turning myself in.”