Hunted Species and other TF fictions

Megatron woke up from his recharge with a splitting headache as if Skullcrusher had pummeled him during his sleep. Mechanically, his hands searched for the comfort of his lover’s body, but found nothing but cold emptiness.

“Little Prince?” he called, suddenly nervous.

He sat up on his berth and made a grimace when his neck and shoulder reminded him of the attack he had been the victim of.

“Starscream?”

The scan fed back what his spark had already told him; Starscream was no longer here.

“Love?” he called again, not willing to realize his Seeker had gone.

Pain came with certitude that the flyer had left him without a goodbye, and worse, with the report that his CPU had been forced. He stared blankly into the darkness of his quarters, while his spark split in two in his chest and energon rose to his optics. His world was falling into pieces, and he could do nothing to preserve it. Then anger popped in his CPU, inflamed his spark and warmed his circuits, while burning tears streamed along his cheek. He soon suffocated with this anger growing in every circuit, and slammed his fist against the metal of the berth, damaging it.

“Why have you betrayed me, Starscream? You don’t have the right to leave me behind!” he screamed, punching with all his might the metallic surface. He stopped only when pain stung his shoulder and neck. He set his gaze misty with tears on the axe and the black cannon resting against the grayish wall.

“I’ll bring you back, Starscream. You’re mine! I won’t let you go away from me!” he growled.

“So… It’s here that you found me.”

Starscream walked slowly towards the corner of the place, where a pool of dry energon darkened the soil. He knelt by its side, setting his axe on the ground, and caressed the dirty surface.

“I was lying there. Wounded. Bleeding… And you saved me,” he murmured.

Guilt resurfaced in his mind, and he choked with emotion, feeling ready to cry. He could back out and go back to Megatron. The gladiator would certainly be angry at first, but he would apologize sincerely. He would do everything it takes to be forgiven. He could… yes, he could.

However, he would not back out. Megatron would soon cease to be this understanding and sweet partner. He would become rude, megalomaniac and violent. He would soon transform into the Slag Maker.

“I can’t stay, definitely.”

Chasing his hesitations away, he started to inspect every nook and cranny around the energon mark, groping in the darkness to find a sign of the time bridge. “Must be somewhere!” he muttered. His hands started to tremble, as he detected no sign of it.

“Primus! Tell me it exists… please!”

He felt a pang of relief when his fingers seemed to be absorbed by darkness. He pulled forward and smiled as his wrist totally disappeared, although he could still feel his joints. He rose slowly to his feet, keeping his hand planted on the void. His smile widened as he realized that the entrance of the time bridge was large enough for him to walk in.

“I can go home!”

Following Starscream through the tunnel had been easy. Megatron had found first the two guards holding the entrance to the tunnel, deactivated. A cycle later, he tripped over the bodies of three Vampiricons, deactivated as well. Their chests wore the same gashes like the two guards, made by axe. The depth of the wounds, their orientation—everything showed that it had been made by a mech who didn’t know how to use such a weapon very well. It could only be Starscream.

“Wait till I find you, Little Prince, and I’ll show you who the master is!”

Starscream powered on his optics when his dermaplating reacted to the difference of temperature; a starry sky covered the high towers of Cybertron. The Seeker stepped forward, staring hungrily at the thousands of lights surrounding him, and started running as soon as he recognized the place: the Hall of Heroes, where he had been shot down.

“I’m back… I’m back!” he shouted happily, and ran to the main platform, marveling at the high statues that used to be the witnesses of his coronation… and his death.

He stopped suddenly and gaped at the giant symbol placed in the middle of the platform; a mark as red as the one that used to adorn Optimus Prime’s shoulders. The Autobot symbol.

“What the slag had happened here?” he exclaimed, feeling suddenly ill-at- ease. He nervously scanned the area that appeared less friendly than at his first impression. “How long since my coronation?” he murmured, spinning on his heels.

He heard a whistling coming from the other side of the Hall, followed by mechanical footsteps. Someone was heading in his direction. ‘Autobots?’ he wondered as he hid behind a statue.

The place was empty and plunged in darkness. Using his infrared, Megatron spotted the pool of dry energon and tightened his fist as he could remember perfectly the form of the Seeker, bathing in his vital fluids. Beside the dark stain lay an axe, which he identified easily as the model for a femme. Starscream had certainly stolen it from the ammunition dump, selecting this one for its light weight.

“Bitch! Why have you left me?” he growled before dashing forward.

The blue light of a patrol drone, outside the factory, suddenly bathed the room. Megatron froze on the spot and instinctively shut down several of his systems to be completely silent and undetectable. Breems ticked by slowly before the patrol drone walked away, leaving the inside to its darkness.

Once he was sure the threat was gone, he rebooted his motor systems and stepped forward, staring at the weapon that lay on the cold floor; alone and abandoned, like he was.

“You don’t have the right to leave me alone!” he shrieked, kicking the axe in despair.

The weapon slipped on the floor and disappeared totally in the darkness of a corner, as if it had been swallowed.

“What the slag-?”

The gladiator stared at the corner, noticing how much darker it looked in comparison to the rest of the room. It was just as if there was something absorbing the weak light of this ancient production line. Hesitating a little, he reached towards the dark spot, and gaped in surprise as his hand totally disappeared in it.

“There is something out there!” he exclaimed and then dug his limb deeper into the void, up to the elbow. “He must have gone through this kind of… tunnel!”

Megatron stared at the black area, wondering what he should do. The temptation to go through this mysterious tunnel was strong but, meanwhile, he had no idea where it led. Starscream’s era? A parallel world? Or simply… nothing?

A beam of light lightened the wall beside him, and he caught the noise of the drone’s footsteps. The patrol mechanic was back, certainly alerted by the scream he had imprudently let out.

“No choice…” he muttered through gritted teeth, and let the tunnel swallow him.

Blitzwing walked nonchalantly to the center of the Hall, whistling to himself an old Decepticon ballade. He stared at the big Autobot symbol and smiled bitterly, remembering the glorious days when it was a Decepticon symbol that occupied the place of honor in this prestigious Hall. That was before the death of Starscream and the accession of this crazy mech called Galvatron. The triple changer hissed in irritation at the recollection of this hateful and mad Transformer, still hard-pressed to believe this liability was actually Megatron, reformatted by Unicron. Galvatron had none of the qualities that used to make Megatron an incredible leader: no intelligence, no charisma and no goal, except beating up other mechs (including his own warriors). Although he had plotted countless times against the Slag Maker, Blitzwing acknowledged his qualities as a leader and mourned him, enough to betray Galvatron and switch to the side of the Autobots.

‘Slag you, Galvatron! Slag you for all you’ve done to the Decepticons!’ he cursed. His gaze left the massive symbol to stare at the one painted on his chest; “Slag you for forcing me to become an Autobot!” he groaned.

He sat at the bottom of the main staircase leading to the majestic platform. The last time the Hall had been used, it was for Starscream’s coronation; it had been closed to the public since the victory against Unicron, as nobody wanted to wander on a crime scene. Blitzwing smiled at the memory of the dead Air Commander; a young and ambitious Decepticon, who had wanted to rise so high that his fall had been deadly. There was, however, no compassion in this thoughts; it was Starscream’s fault that Galvatron had been created, and for that, Blitzwing cursed regularly the name of the late second in command.

“Starscream, you stupid robot chicken! You little bitch! You-”

His insults ended with a strangled cry when he was grabbed by the throat and punched in the face. Dizzy and surprised, he lost his balance and was sent to the floor by a kick in the stomach. He tried to struggle until a barrel set against his chest, aiming at his spark.

“Okay, you win! I give up!” he cried, holding up his hands in sign of surrender.

“I should shoot you down for insulting me, you retard!”

Panic spread through his circuits as he immediately recognized the grating voice and, looking up, the dark faceplate adorned with a scolding smirk.

“Oh, crap! Star… Starscream!”

O

Starscream felt a wave of joy washing through him as Blitzwing’s expression turned into that of a complete horror. He had not inspired such fear in his prey for too long. He briefly considered an opportunity to torture the Triple Changer a little longer to spin things out, but he had questions to ask, starting with the reason for the presence of the Autobot logo on his chest.

“Oh, Primus! I didn’t mean to awaken your ghost, I swear!” the triple changer whined.

The Seeker let out a dark chuckle at this remark. Such fear was so delicious!

“I’m not a ghost, you moron!” he retorted, pressing his foot into the triple changer’s chest. “Now, answer my questions. How long have I been away?”

“Two… Two megacycles!”

‘Interesting… time must be different in the tunnel,’ he reflected briefly before focusing back to the questioning.

“Why the slag is there a giant Autobot symbol in this Hall, and—” Starscream’s foot dug deeper in the tank former’s midsection, “—on your chest?” he asked.

“We lost the planet after Unicron’s attack and Galvatron’s defeat!” Blitzwing replied, whimpering as the pressure on his ventral plating became painful. “Galvatron came back totally crazy and insane, and I decided to switch sides!”

Starscream’s optics narrowed to a slit as he tried to decrypt the laconic answer. He had no idea about the identity of Unicron, but the name of Galvatron raised an immediate interest. Only one mech could choose a name including the suffix “tron”.

“Galvatron… You mean the purple moron who shot me during my coronation?”

Blitzwing hissed in pain when his plating started to bend under the excruciating pressure.

“Galvatron… used to be Megatron before being reprogrammed and upgraded by Unicron. He shot you down, and we all believed you were dead. Then he became the leader of the Decepticons, to our greatest misfortune.”

Red optics flashed in anger. Starscream clenched his teeth and banged his fists, while his CPU bubbled in excitement and desire for revenge.

“Where can I find him?” he asked in a growl.

Blitzwing raised a shaking hand and pointed towards the northwest.

“Charr. The Decepticons retreated to Charr!”

“Charr?” Starscream couldn’t hide his surprise and gazed at a reddish point that glistered sinisterly in the starry sky. “There is nothing on Charr; it’s a dead satellite of Cybertron!” He then glared back at his prisoner, “It looks like it is more than time that I come back and definitely deactivate this incompetent Slag Maker, whatever his name is now!”

Blitzwing sighed in relief as Starscream withdrew his foot from his plating.

“You can’t beat him, Screamer. Galvatron’s strength is matched only by his madness. He’s going to kill you if he finds out you’re alive… You’d better ask for the Autobots’ protection.”

“Protection from the Autobots?” Starscream crooked an amused smile, “You’re kidding? I’m going to rip out Galvatron’s spark instead, and hook his head on my throne once I get my position of the Decepticon leader back. Besides…” He kicked Blitzwing in the face and watched him coldly fall backward, unconscious. “I had a perfect instructor and tough training lately.”

A few breems later, he transformed and took off, setting his automatic pilot system on course to Charr.

Soundwave woke up from his recharge with the strange feeling that something was about to happen. He couldn’t tell if it was going to be for better or worse, but the impression was challenging his telepathic capabilities, creating a splitting headache. He felt oddly worried and happy at the same time; a mixture of feelings he was not accustomed to.

‘My mission… It’s going to come to an end soon.’

He rose from his recharge berth and opened the shutter that plunged his quarters in obscurity. It unveiled a starry sky, in which Planet Cybertron was aglitter with thousands lights, the sign of its renewed prosperity. The feeling became stronger.

‘Does it mean… he has arrived?’

Megatron picked up the tiny axe that had preceded him in this world and gaped at the lights that surrounded him. He couldn’t say where he was, as the place seemed foreign to him. He was standing on a platform, and there were high statues of Transformers, standing side by side, in what looked like a vast hall. Beyond the colonnades, high-rise towers soared skywards in a symphony of blue, purple and yellow lights.

“Is that Cybertron in the future?” he wondered.

He stepped forward, covering with a feverish gaze this open palace, oblivious of the smile that graced his features. He found the surroundings gorgeous; it had nothing to do with the dark streets and wobbly buildings of the Cybertron that he knew. It was so much more beautiful that the Palaces occupied by the Quintessons; the walls were bright and the statues showed Transformers as noble warriors, not slaves.

“That’s… gorgeous!” he exclaimed. ‘Yes, gorgeous, like Starscream…’ he then reflected. His spark tingled in his chest, reminding him he had come here for a reason: to find his lover and bring him back. ‘I’ll find him!’ he promised to himself.

He scanned the hall more closely and detected the presence of another Transformer, at the bottom of the stairs. As far as his audios could pick up his light moans, he was slowly regaining consciousness.

“Starscream… It’s so easy to follow your path!” Megatron whispered, relieved with the Seeker’s natural imprudence.

He walked silently towards the awakening Transformer, holding firmly his axe in his hand. The other seemed to be strongly built, and was as tall as he was; however, he seemed slightly damaged, or at least, groggy enough to fail fighting back.

Megatron had all his chances to interrogate him.

O

Blitzwing reached to his face with a hand and palpated the area where Starscream had kicked him. Although the metal had resisted the violence of the shock fairly well, the circuits beneath complained violently.

“Starscream, you slagging little bitch! Wait until I find you and-!”

The triple changer gasped in surprise as he was forced to a sitting position, while the cutting edge of an axe pressed against the pipes of his throat.

“You’ll find him, and so what?”

Blitzwing gulped in surprise as his databank automatically warned him that he knew the owner of that deep and grating voice. He lowered his gaze and peeped at the dark hand gripping his shoulder, and swallowed his energon with a throaty noise. That didn’t make any sense, but he couldn’t help asking the question that immediately popped up in his CPU.

“Me-Megatron?” he stuttered. “Is that you?”

“Shut up! I’m the one who is asking questions here!” came the answer, together with a hit on his helmet. “Where is Starscream?”

“He’s gone to Charr!” Blitzwing shrieked, trying to break free. It unnerved his aggressor who raised him from the ground to slam him against the wall. “I’ll do nothing to Starscream, I swear!” he added promptly.

“What is Charr?!”

A silver face set closer to him, leaving him speechless. It was Megatron, and at the same time, it was another Transformer. The features were harsh, but so much younger than the face of the commander he remembered. Besides, he looked determined rather than cruel. However, the danger was still there, cold as ice and sharp as the teeth of the Sharkticons, ready to cut off his head.

Blitzwing forced himself to calm down and searched for arguments to buy some time, in the absence of ideas to escape this threat.

“Hold on please, I’m not an enemy. Tell me what you want, and I’m gonna help!”

The other replied with a smirk that froze energon in his pipes. It was Megatron. Somehow.

“What is Charr?! Explain!”

‘… Explain!’ It was one of the favorite expressions of the Slag Maker, together with “You fool, Starscream!”. Blitzwing looked at the silver transformer, scanning his get up more closely. His design was clearly old-fashioned; he could be a Tank former, although some parts of his body betrayed a certain inability to transform. He looked like a ghost of the past, one of those heroes of Cybertron’s liberation from the yoke of the Quintessons. He seemed to be wounded as well; droplets of energon leaked from his neck and shoulder.

“Charr is a satellite of Cybertron, created from a major sabotage on a Quintesson Ship, millions of years ago. After the disastrous attack on Autobot city and the attack of Unicron, the Decepticons retreated to Charr, and…” Blitzwing paused, as the memories of the dire straits of his fellow Decepticons hit him anew. “We starved to death,” he added with emotion. “Then Galvatron came back…”

“Galvatron?”

Blitzwing gave him the same answer as he did to Starscream.

O

Megatron fought himself not to collapse: more than the pain created by the reopened wound on his neck, the revelations about his future sickened him. He would become first a murderer, consumed by burning ambition and a craving for power, and then, ultimately, this “Galvatron”; a mad Transformer, driven only by insanity and violent impulses. The exact type of a robot he hated the most. Involuntarily, his hands tightened on the purple shoulder as he realized his future fate; he would become what he hated the most. He would transform into an honourless gladiator, like Skullcrusher.

However, he had no time to pity himself; Starscream was about to attack Galvatron, and, according to the Transformer who he was interrogating, he had no chance of victory. He had to find him quickly before it was too late.

“Starscream will die at his hands!”

“How do I get to Charr?” Megatron hissed in reply. “I have to stop this nonsense!”

“You need a spaceship.”

The answer wasn’t helping. ‘A space… ship? What does it mean?’ he wondered.

“Where do I get a… spaceship?” he asked, hiding his confusion as best as he could.

“There are some at the main aero-platform. You just have to take one…”

Megatron had absolutely no idea of what was a ship and how it could operate. He grasped Blitzwing by the throat and hauled him to optic range.

“You’re going to bring me to Charr in this so-called spaceship!”

The optics of the Transformer flickered in panic.

“No! No! I can’t go to Charr! Galvatron wants me dead!” Blitzwing shrieked, squirming to free himself from the firm grip. “Please, please! Don’t force me to go there!”

Megatron raised his axe above his head and took the most aggressive expression, finishing terrorizing his hostage. He felt his shoulders and back burning under the effort but showed nothing of his pain.

“No! Stop! I’ll bring you to Charr! Please don’t kill me!”

The gladiator lowered his weapon and smirked.

“That’s good news.”

Starscream was extremely surprised when he reached the aerial space of planet Charr. He had expected to be immediately chased by Decepticons jets, but nobody came. The planet was plunged into darkness, which led Starscream to the conclusion that Charr and its inhabitants were suffering from an energy shortage. There was no light coming from the sparse buildings, with the exception of a larger one, looking as gloomy as the Palace of the Quintessons, where he had gone for the tournament.

‘I’m sure Galvatron is here, somewhere in this hideous palace. The idiot! When I think there is not even a defence system.’

Hunting down Galvatron would be a piece of cake. But he had to prepare himself before attacking the one that had usurped his position as a leader.

He landed nearby a group of buildings that seemed to be hangars. He forced the door of the first one, but found only spare parts of Transformers, certainly meant for the repair of the Decepticon soldiers. In the second one, there were ruins of a ship, abandoned to rust and oblivion. He finally found what he searched in the third one: a stock of energon cubes. An abnormally low stock of energon, he pondered in surprise.

“Primus! They are starving on this piece of dirt!” he growled and then clenched his fists. “Galvatron, you piece of slag, you’re already dead!”

Suddenly, an odd idea that, at the time of the Slag Maker, such a dramatic shortage of energy wouldn’t have happened, rose in his mind. And then, he felt he missed Megatron; the real one, Silvergun. The young and ambitious gladiator that had charmed him despite his own will.

“You’re an idiot Starscream!” he groaned before taking a mouthful of energon from a cube he had picked up. “It’s too late now.”

His spark hurt, but he forced himself to ignore the pain and remorse.

The gladiator’s gaze was roaming over the control panel of the ship, gaping at the multicoloured buttons and throttles with a puzzled expression. He had even lowered his axe in surprise. But Blitzwing did not claim victory too early; he had no doubt about the ability of the silver-white Transformer to kill him if he tried to escape. He sighed and contemplated once again that there was no obstacle to their taking off. The space of Cybertron was clear, and the control tower would certainly give him the go, as nobody expected him to fly to Charr.

“Make it move!” the gladiator groaned.

“Okay, okay. Here we go!” Blitzwing replied with resignation. “You should take a seat, you know.”

“I don’t need your advices… Make it move!”

The triple changer hurriedly obeyed and ignited the engines. The ship responded with a gentle shake, making the other startle. The gladiator promptly took the seat of the co-pilot, waving menacingly his axe toward Blitzwing.

“What is that?!” he exclaimed with some panic in his voice.

“First taking off, hum?” Blitzwing ventured.

The silver Transformer replied with a frightened look as the ship left the tarmac and hovered a few meters above the ground.

“First taking off,” he concluded and smirked lightly.

Starscream left the hangar after downing one and a half cube of energon. He was now fully charged – if not slightly overcharged – and ready to make justice for himself.

“Say your prayer, Galvatron. You don’t know it yet but you’re already dead.”

He walked to the palace, following the walls of the buildings surrounding it. He made out a hidden door on the flank of the purple citadel and slipped through the doorway. Unsurprisingly, the door was equipped with a very basic alarm device; Starscream forced it open in a nano-click and entered a weakly lit corridor.

“Now, let’s find this moron’s quarters.”

He walked across the hallway and entered a large room, leading to another hallway. The palace seemed to be a perfect labyrinth, leaving him few chances to reach his target easily. His patience growing thin, he grabbed the opportunity when he made out the silhouette of a mech, busy with the observation of a statue. He wasn’t looking in Starscream’s direction, which allowed the Seeker to approach him incognito. Supple as a cyber cat, he flowed towards the winged robot and stepped behind him. Once he was sure of his position, he grabbed the robot by the shoulder, pulled him towards himself and took advantage of his surprise to grip his throat.

“Lead me to Galvatron or I’ll kill you!” he threatened, sticking the barrel of his null ray into the grey flank. The robot twisted in his grasp but failed to free himself. “I’ll let you leave if you cooperate.”

“Re-really?”

“Yes! You have my word!” he rasped.

Starscream loosened his grasp after his prey had nodded in acceptance, but kept his null ray set against his back. The robot raised his arms in sign of surrender and started walking, wings quivering nervously.

They walked through other hallways and rooms during half a cycle before Starscream’s hostage stopped in front of a high door, decorated with a giant Decepticon emblem. A scornful smile graced the Seeker’s lips and his optics shone with a dangerous light.

“It’s here,” gulped the Transformer. He jumped when Starscream dug again the barrel into the joint of his waist. “But you said you would leave me alive!” he panicked.

“I lied,” Starscream retorted and fired his null rays.

The body of the winged bot was shaken by the energy and slammed against the door, before slipping slowly to the ground, all crevices of his armour smoking. The Seeker’s smirk grew wider when the optics of his victim blackened, a sign that he was definitely out of commission.

“And now, now… Galvatron. Your turn!” he cooed.

Blitzwing landed the ship a few kilometers away from the Decepticon camp, in a small canyon. As he had expected, the defence system of Charr was down, certainly due to the energy shortage, which explained why there was almost no light in the buildings.

“You’ve arrived,” he declared to his kidnapper, “Now, let me go.”

Megatron clenched his teeth and looked daggers at him. It was true that the Transformer had been cooperative, but he still needed him to come back to planet Cybertron.

“Not yet,” he growled.

“Hey! I’ve cooperated and brought you to Charr. Galvatron is in his castle, and Starscream has certainly reached the place as well!” Blitzwing protested, waving at the screen that showed the weakly lit building, “Keep your word and let me go! I’m in danger of termination if a Decepticon finds me here!”

“I said: no!”

“We’ll see about it!”

Blitzwing jumped at him and grabbed him by the throat, but Megatron had seen it coming; he rewarded the triple changer by a kick in the stomach, forcing him to release his grasp. Blitzwing stepped back, allowing Megatron to finish him with a strong uppercut. The tank Transformer fell to the ground, knocked-out.

“Weakling…”

He grabbed the unconscious mech by the shoulders and carried him away from the command board. He searched the cabinets at the rear of the ship and found what he needed: wires, resistant enough to be used as ties.

“Here, wait for my return. I won’t be long!” he said while binding Blitzwing to a seat.

Now that he had made sure that his pilot wouldn’t go anywhere, he could deal with Starscream and this so-called Galvatron. Megatron picked up his two axes, hanging the small one on his back, and rushed toward the Decepticon camp.

The control panel of the door followed the robot to oblivion as Starscream disabled it with a low-power null ray shot. The Seeker forced it open and penetrated the dark room as a conqueror enters a city he had forced to surrender. He spotted a heavy throne beside a large window glass looking out on the desert of Charr and planet Cybertron in the background. A tall Transformer was standing beside it, lost in the contemplation of the landscape. Starscream stopped on the threshold, scanning the frequency of the energy field that radiated from the occupant of this place. He felt growing alarm when he noticed the similarities with the Slag Maker’s energy field and Silvergun’s own frequency. Once again, his spark hurt as he remembered his young lover.

‘This is not the time to regret your choice!’ he reprimanded himself. ‘It’s too late… Silvergun is lost forever.’

“Cyclonus! What is that ruckus? I said I didn’t want to be disturbed!”

The raspy voice grated on his audios, making his legs buckle. Primus, it was almost the same voice as the Slag Maker’s and Silvergun’s. He quivered when the robot turned around, showing his face. Starscream felt courage leaving him as the red optics set on him and the thin lips narrowed to form an angry scowl. The threatening expression on these harsh features evoked the memory of his awakening in Silvergun’s quarters. He then realized that he loved the gladiator who had saved him in the distant past. He wished to see him, be able to touch him and feel the comfort of his arms around his waist, his lips covering his mouth. Primus, he would never live this happy moment again!

“You!? It’s impossible… I killed you!” Galvatron barked, raising his cannon-equipped arm in his direction.

The feeling of danger immediately swept Starscream’s uncertainty away. ‘It’s not him anymore… I’ve lost Silvergun forever!’

“I guess you haven’t tried hard enough to really kill me!” he spat back. “Let me show how to get rid of a pest… you, for instance!” he added with a cruel smirk.

The noise of the cannon, powering up for a shot, warned him that the hostilities had opened.

“I can fix that!” shrieked the purple warlord as he fired.

The Seeker avoided the blast with an acrobatic jump to the left and took advantage of Galvatron’s surprise to shoot him in the shoulder. The warlord stepped back and growled with irritation when Starscream tackled him to the ground.

Megatron had always been a quick runner, which helped him to carry out devastating charges on the arena. However, he had never been as determined as today, which let him cover a few kilometers between the ship and the Decepticon camp in a record time. After only a few breems, he reached the first buildings. Unlike Cybertron, there was no light, absolutely no activity in the dark streets, and most of the inhabitants seemed to be in recharge. In a sense, it was better that way, as he wasn’t forced to fight unnecessarily and could save his strength for Galvatron.

He quickly reached the palace of the Decepticon leader and deduced by the massive shape of the building that it would take time to find Starscream and his target. Fortunately, a mech was outside, standing right in front of the main gate. Megatron didn’t hesitate further and strode along, holding his axe firmly in his hand. The mech saw him when he was a dozen meters away from him but instead of trying to escape, fight or protect himself, he stared at him in shock.

“You? No… This is impossible!”

Megatron ignored his reaction and used the flat part of his axe to hit the mech on the stomach, sending him flying backwards. A nano-click later, he was on his victim and turned him over with a kick in the ribs. The mech spurted energon as he choked on the dust of Charr, moaning in pain. Megatron wasn’t finished with him; he sat on his back and positioned the cutting edge of his axe against the exposed wires of his throat, ready to cut.

“Where is Galvatron?” he asked with a sinister voice.

“What do you want?!” the other replied, writhing under his weight.

“Lead me to Galvatron!”

“No way!”

The gladiator’s optics reduced to a slit, and he punched the other in the helmet, grinding his face into the dust.

“Lead me to Galvatron!” he repeated.

The purple mech spat out some dust and tried to get up, to no avail.

“Go and slag yourself!”

Megatron hit him three times again, but the mech persisted in not cooperating. Feeling that he was losing his time, the gladiator finally grabbed an arm with his free hand and twisted it behind the stubborn mech’s back. He didn’t release the pressure until wires started to snap on the shoulders and the limb was ready to come off, sparkling with electricity.

“No! Please! Megatron! Stop!” the mech shrieked, twisting in pain.

Despite the pleas, Megatron didn’t free the almost torn arm but stopped twisting it. Once again, somebody already knew his identity, an evidence of his future well-known cruelty.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked. “Explain!”

“I know… I know… you, Megatron. I saw you in the old records,” the one called Cyclonus breathed. “Please, stop!”

“Lead me to Galvatron!” he ordered as he stood up from his victim and raised the shaken mech with brutality. “Now, or I’ll tear you apart limb by limb!” he added, waving his axe under the bleeding nose of the mech.

O

Cyclonus struggled not to collapse to a heap as new sparkles of electricity sent a wave of pain through him. He nodded silently, aware that he was no match for the Slag Maker. Only Galvatron could be strong enough to stop him.

The only question was how Megatron could be standing in front of him. Megatron and Galvatron were supposed to be a single unique person.

Soundwave sat back in his chair, his optics not leaving the screen of the monitor, as if he was hypnotized by the images that Laserbeak was broadcasting. The shape of the silver-white Transformer occupied the major part of the scene, like a ghostly vision. The former Communications Officer trembled when the mech turned his gaze in the direction of the spy; two red optics glittered, lighting harsh but young features, so familiar to him.

“Megatron! You were telling the truth… He has come! You have come from the past!” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. “That means the wheel of your destiny is moving,” he added to himself.

“The vicious circle will repeat again!” Go to: Chapter 8 – Chapter 10