Hunted Species and other TF fictions

Charr – Soundwave’s quarters

“Here it is, it’s almost done!” Hook declared as he welded the last floating panel on Starscream’s wings, hiding the delicate wires and parts linking the appendage to the Seeker’s body. “Let go of his wing so we can check if the repairs are good enough,” he told his assistant.

Soundwave complied silently. The wing bent with a creaking sound and came to rest along Starscream’s back, his right arm and a part of the repair berth, without breaking.

“We’re done with the last one!” Hook outlined a smirk; “We’re lucky he’s no longer a tetra jet!” he chuckled.

“Can he transform and fly?” the Communications Officer ventured.

“Oh no! Not yet. He will have to go through quite a long re-education and a couple of surgeries to change most of the flying sensors measuring lift and traction forces and link the new ones to the flying equipment,” Hook explained, wiping the remaining oil off his fingers. “What we did is nothing else than field repairs. High quality field repairs, I should say, what with the extensive wounds of the flyboy. His life is not in jeopardy anymore, but the most delicate repair work must be performed by a real medic who is competent in Seeker’s technology, Soundwave. I am afraid that we don’t have such a gem in the Decepticon army,” he said regretfully. “There is no real medic in the Decepticon army. On Cybertron, on the other hand…”

“Is Hook trying to say: go to the Autobots?”

“I’m saying go somewhere where they have a real Cybertronian medic if you don’t want to see Starscream disabled for the rest of his life,” the Constructicon corrected. “But, yes, there are good medics on the Autobot side. I heard that Ratchet, the C.M.O. who was killed during the attack on the Autobot City, had very skilled students.”

“Problem: Autobots will never help Decepticons. Starscream still registered as a war criminal by Autobot authorities although he is recorded as deceased.”

Hook nodded: he was himself registered on the list of Decepticons to be put on trial for the destruction of Crystal City.

“Sure, they might pull a face if they see you coming with a young Megatron and a supposedly dead Starscream, requiring medical assistance and political asylum, but… Hey! Isn’t that better trying to convince them rather than being blasted to oblivion by Galvatron?” he remarked.

“Reasoning: logical. I must study various parameters to assess the level of danger of such a surrender.”

Hook reached again for his patient, turning Starscream’s face to have a better look of the ripped optics.

“If you want my opinion, don’t wait too long to make a decision,” he warned trying to examine the cut wires. “I can’t see properly. Can you help me turn him over?”

The two Transformers grabbed the limbs of the unconscious Seeker and engrossed themselves in the difficult task of turning this huge dead weight over without ruining the repairs. Although he looked slender, Starscream was still a large mech; not as large as Soundwave or Megatron, but still weighing several tons.

“Here we are, let me have a look at your pretty optics, Screamer.” Hook joked, scanning the damage inflicted to the optical components. He finally shook his head: “I can’t repair them. Such wounds are beyond my competence. I will cover them with glasses so that impurities wouldn’t ruin the inner circuits further, but you will have to find a medic specialized in optical surgery if you want him to see again,” he announced.

“Let me guess: a proper medic on Cybertron?”

Hook nodded in approval. “Yes, on Cybertron. I know the name of the right medic: Ocular. Another student of Ratchet.”

“Question: how do you know about Ratchet’s followers?”

“Let’s say… one of my dreams was to become a certified medic, like him. I failed the entry exam – got only 79.98% of the required mark while Ratchet got 99.88%. The guy was a genius in robotic medicine.”

“I see.”

Soundwave watched the Constructicon fix some small pieces of glass to replace the optical components of the Seeker, pondering on the advice he had received. Their future hardly looked bright since their options were reduced to being arrested by the Autobots or executed by Galvatron. Soundwave did not delude himself: he had gone too far in aiding the two fugitives. He knew perfectly that he risked being executed for high treason towards the Decepticon cause if he stayed on Charr.

Speaking of Megatron… He had certainly read the message left by the Slag Maker, and should now have more information about this vicious circle. His curiosity had grown considerably and he wanted to know more than his Commander saw fit to tell him. He suspected that the vicious circle had occurred several times, at least twice in the past, but nothing indicated it hadn’t crushed the two lovers several more times. He also assumed that the course of events differed slightly every time, but it always led to Starscream’s death and the rise of the Slag Maker. However, he lacked evidence to support those assumptions either.

“Soundwave leaving to check status of Megatron, upstairs,” he informed.

“Yep! I’ll call you once I’m done with the optics,” Hook replied, concentrating on the delicate operation.

Soundwave quickly climbed up the stairs and felt a pang of worry as the silence of his quarters surprised him. His Cassettes were oddly quiet, not daring to make a noise to disturb their guest. Megatron was still sitting at the desk, his forehead resting in his hands, as if he was crying. His fusion cannon lay next to him, and the axe had been abandoned in the corner, leaving the gladiator defenceless.

Megatron was replaying for the hundredth time the video left by his namesake. He knew by heart the words of the Decepticon leader, had registered all his expressions to the smallest detail, analysing how it matched some of his own twitches. Not many mechs had been allowed to see what they would become in the future; Megatron had seen his future self, this incredible representation of charisma, violence and danger. The monster he would become.

“Megatron?”

The gladiator averted his optics from the haunting image to look at Soundwave.

“Is Starscream… fixed?” he asked fretfully.

“Starscream’s status: out of danger, but not completely fixed.”

“I want to see him!”

Before Soundwave could ask him a question about the message, Megatron had run down the staircase, almost throwing aside Hook as he hurried to the bedside of his lover.

“What happened to him?! He’s unconscious!” he exclaimed, caressing a blue forearm. “What have you done to him?” he barked at Hook with a menacing look in his optics.

“We had to give me an anaesthetic before performing the repairs,” Hook promptly explained, aware of the threatening stance of the young Transformer. “He’s going to be in recharge for a few cycles. You have nothing to fear,” he assured.

“You’d better be right.” Megatron scoffed, while caressing gently the sleepy features of the Jet former.

“Megatron. Attention required for explanations about the message.” Soundwave said as he stopped halfway down the staircase.

“Not here, not now. I’ll talk to you later in private.”

The gladiator leaned over the form of Starscream to kiss him when the comlinks of both Soundwave and Hook crackled, spitting the voice of Galvatron. Megatron shivered at the frequency, so similar to his own voice and so different with the aggressive inflections.

(I want all personal quarters to be searched by the Sweeps! I allow them to execute on the spot any Decepticon who would try to interfere or hide the fugitives!)

The silence fell over the three mechs, as they stared at each other in shock. In a few nanoclicks, all hope had failed and the spectre of death was rising.

“We can’t stay here!” Megatron breathed raggedly. He grabbed the Seeker and shook him gently to force him back online. “Please, Little Prince, wake up. We can’t stay here!” he called desperately.

“He’s right, Soundwave. They can’t stay here, and neither can you,” Hook asserted. “You heard Galvatron: the Sweeps will execute you if they lay their hands on these two. Take your cassettes and go!”

“Go where?!” The Communication Officer turned his red visors towards Hook.

“I’ve already told you. Go to Cybertron, and ask for the protection of the Autobots!”

“Hold on a nanoclick! It’s exactly what the Slag Maker asked me to do in his message,” the gladiator exclaimed as he managed to get a groggy Starscream into a sitting position.

Soundwave threw a questioning glance towards Megatron, hesitating to voice his doubts. The gladiator was oblivious of the potential danger underlying the surrender to the Autobots. He wasn’t assured that even after a full explanation about the incredible time paradox the Autobots would show lenience. Would they take account of the fact that Silvergun wasn’t yet a war criminal, or would they identify him as the Slag Maker, and turn on him for the sins he had not yet committed? There were rumours saying that the current Autobot leader, Rodimus Prime, was still grieving for Optimus Prime. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t want to avenge the death of the glorious Autobot Commander. And Starscream? Most Autobot ground-pounders hated the Decepticon Air Commander for the many losses that the cruel harbinger of death had inflicted in the past battles. Assumingly, they would take advantage of the Seeker’s weakness to finish him off.

And what would happen to him? He had been third in command of the Decepticon army; he was in as much danger as Starscream and Megatron, although the threat posed by the Autobots was nothing compared to Galvatron. Thinking twice… Between being killed in the next few cycles by a cruel brute, and being potentially executed by the enemy, he had a preference for the second option: a less painful death.

“Advice: escape to the space bridge and set coordinates for Cybertron,” he stated, his droning voice a tad trembling. “Be ready to leave in the next five breems,” he informed Megatron, before running upstairs, shouting at his Cassettes: “Orders: leave current activity. Charge weaponry and prepare for immediate abandon of the quarters. Target: Space Bridge, sector 8.”

Hook followed him without a word, leaving Megatron struggling to rouse Starscream from his torpor.

O

Starscream crashed against the Megatron’s broad chest as he lost his balance. The gladiator slid an arm under his knees and the other behind his back, carefully cradling him against himself. The Seeker’s head fell back limply as dizziness overtook him again.

“Courage, Little Prince. You have to stay with me,” he murmured encouragingly, reaching the bottom of the stairs. He climbed step by step, careful not to fall backward or drop his precious burden.

Having arrived to Soundwave’s main quarters, he quivered with apprehension as he took in the panic that gripped its occupants. The navy blue Transformer was busy downloading data from a large computer to which he was plugged by his fingers. His small Cassettes were running here and there, charging weapons plugged to a large energon cube.

“I’m ready,” he stated. “I need my axe and my fusion cannon before departing,” he informed.

“Weapons ready for pick-up,” Soundwave laconically replied, not looking in his direction.

The reply wasn’t addressed to him but to the one named Hook, who scooted to the desk and grabbed the massive black weapon. Megatron delicately shifted Starscream to an upright position, firmly pinning him against his own body, as the legs of the Seeker were totally limp. The flier moaned lightly, still lost in the limbo of anaesthesia, and unconsciously buried his face in the gladiator’s neck.

“I’m here, Little Prince. I’m not abandoning you,” Megatron assured, kissing his forehead. He then stared back at the green bot, who was holding his cannon. “Can you attach it to my arm?” he asked, raising his free limb.

“Sure.” Hook reduced the distance between them with obvious wariness, and attached the black cannon to the light grey forearm, working nervously on the latch. “I’ll bring your axe,” he added once the click-click informed him that the deadly weapon was reconnected to the strong machinery of his owner.

He walked hurriedly to the corner and took the axe, stopping briefly to look at the sharp head with a puzzled expression.

“It seems old to you? Antiquated?” Megatron couldn’t help but chuckling. “Believe me, I know how to use it and make it the nightmare of all gladiators of my time. I swear I will put Galvatron out of his misery with it!”

Hook abandoned his expression of mistrust and worry to smile openly at him. Stepping in front of him, he held the axe out to Megatron. “I hope you will kill Galvatron and take his position as the head of the Decepticon army,” he declared cheerfully.

Megatron didn’t know how to reply to this remark. Ripping the living core out of the crazy purple Transformer was a tempting idea, but it would amount to killing himself, although his other self was pole apart from him. A new moan from Starscream distracted him from this disturbing observation; the Seeker was slowly coming back to consciousness.

“Hold on a second,” he warned Hook as refocused his attention to his lover. “Starscream, I need you to focus.”

O

Hook silently watched Silvergun holding up Starscream’s chin, eliciting a reaction with gentle caresses on the dark faceplate. Now, the scene to which he had been witness and actor a million years ago took on its real meaning: Silvergun was deep in love with Starscream, and was ready to do anything to keep him alive.

‘Starscream was this dead lover Silvergun was talking about.’

That definitely made sense while Megatron redoubled his sweet efforts to have Starscream focus on him.

“Hey, Little Prince. Don’t forget—focus,” Silvergun insisted and then kissed the Seeker on the lips. A shaking blue hand reached Megatron’s forearm, squeezing it weakly. “Good,” the gladiator whispered with satisfaction, “Now, try to put your arms around my neck and hold it firmly.”

The Seeker complied with a moan and thanks to a great amount of effort managed to cling at the larger mech. Megatron imprisoned his waist with his cannon equipped arm, rewarding the groggy flier with a tender kiss.

“You’re doing fine, Little Prince. Do you feel a little better?”

“Feel… like… my CPU gonna explode and that… I will bring up my entire fuel tank,” Starscream breathed with exhaustion.

“That would be a pity! I’ve just cleaned up my paint job!”

Megatron forced a smile to grace his lips, surely to hearten the broken Seeker. Hook couldn’t help admiring the young gladiator briefly, what an excellent leader he would be! Not as crazy as Galvatron was, as intelligent as the Slag Maker was and with the advantage of being able of compassion. Hook had no doubts about this: it would be rewarding to serve a leader, who wouldn’t treat his men as expendable cannon fodder but as real sentient beings. Decepticons might be relentless warriors, but being shot in the back or blindly sacrificed did not contribute to keeping faith in the cause.

“Can you give me the axe?”

“Yes, sure.” Hook abandoned his daydreaming to hand the weapon to the gladiator. He then stepped back and covered Megatron and Soundwave with a suddenly worried look. This Megatron looked sincere; he deserved to be warned about his intentions. “I’m not coming with you,” he announced.

“What?!” The gladiator glared at him and raised his axe over his head, ready to strike. Hook cursed himself for being so naïve; Megatron would always be Megatron, a violent mech ready to get rid of whoever seemed to be a liability. “You’re planning to betray us?! Beware, I’m not going to let you sell us out to Galvatron!” he was warned by the angry silver mech.

“I’m not going to betray you, I swear! It’s just that… if I escape with you, Galvatron will take on the other Constructicons. I can’t allow this!” Hook pleaded, and then glanced at Soundwave. “You understand my position, don’t you? I can’t endanger them by running away with you. My team mates must know that I helped you and, as members of a gestalt, decide what will be our next move. If they agree to help you, then we will give you our support.”

“What if they decide to go along with Galvatron’s orders?” the Communications Officer asked suspiciously.

“They won’t go along with the orders of this shameful tyrant. At worst, they will decide not to intervene.”

“We can’t let him get away alive!” the gladiator barked, raising once again his axe to kill. Soundwave promptly stood between Hook and Megatron, grabbing his arm before the Constructicon got decapitated. “What are you doing?!” the silver mech roared.

“Advice: allow Hook to leave. Constructicons will make the right choice.”

“I don’t believe you.” The gladiator glared intensely at the Communications Officer, not willing to back down. “He will betray us if we let him go,” he growled threateningly.

“He won’t. Please, Megatron. Your understanding is highly appreciated,” Soundwave pleaded, refusing to move back. “Consider this point: Hook repaired Starscream. He saved his life,” he spoke in a last attempt to avoid a blood bath. “He has no interest in killing him after so many long cycles of work!”

O

Megatron’s optics narrowed to a slit as Soundwave’s words slowly found their way into his processor. He had to admit the Constructicon had been of great help in repairing his Seeker. However, his natural sense of distrust pressed him to silence this awkward witness permanently.

“Megatron?”

The young gladiator could read it in Soundwave’s optical visor that he wouldn’t back down and allow him to do away with Hook. Could he afford to fight the Communications Officer? Certainly not. Megatron was lost in this world, and with Starscream disabled his chances of escaping by himself were limited to almost nothing.

“Fair enough. He can go,” he finally hissed, lowering his terrible weapon.

“Thank you. I wish you good luck,” the green bot replied before leaving the quarters without looking back.

Megatron and Soundwave stood silently, glaring at each other until Starscream moaned weakly, clutching the gladiator’s neck as a spasm shook his body.

“We should go now!” Megatron stated with a hint of worry in his voice. “We have lost enough time.”

Soundwave nodded in agreement. “Cassetticons, ready to depart!” he boomed.

The so addressed small robot replied by an enthusiastic “at your command, boss!” and ran out of the quarters, weapons ready in case they bumped into an unwanted guest. Megatron followed them immediately and walked out, letting the darkness of Charr’s Decepticon camp swallow him.

Charr – Galvatron’s fortress

“Are you sure of what you saw?” Scourge asked his Sweep with a dubious expression; “activity around Soundwave’s quarters?”

“Yes, my lord. The surveillance network showed clearly that the Communications Officer received a visit fifteen cycles ago. His visitor left a few clicks ago, but we couldn’t make out enough details to determine his identity. Soundwave also left his quarters with two other Transformers and his Cassettes. According to the direction they took, it’s possible they’re heading to the space bridge in Sector 8.” The Sweep delivered his report and then asked hesitantly: “Do you plan to inform Galvatron?”

Scourge responded first with a grimace while the image of the warlord blasting him the day before played in his memory bank. Since he had been attacked, Galvatron’s mental instability reached its peak, forcing his warriors to keep a good distance from him. A mere funny look or an awkward word were enough to trigger a storm of insults followed by a salvo of laser shots. Scourge didn’t delude himself: Galvatron would not react any better at the news that Soundwave was the potential orchestrator of the murder attempt.

“Yes, I think we should inform him,” he replied, setting a hand on the other’s shoulder. “It’s better if it’s you who will tell him what you saw,” he promptly added.

“Hum, no. I don’t think—”

The aerial soldier swallowed his objection when Scourge’s palm covered his mouth. “YOU’re going to tell him,” the Sweep leader voiced in a threatening tone.

The Sweep didn’t dare do anything else but nod in acceptance. Scourge grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him to the entrance to Galvatron’s quarters. He carefully stepped inside with his subordinate, checking if the crazy warlord wasn’t looking in his direction. As usual, Galvatron was facing his large window, bathed by the weak light coming from planet Cybertron.

“Hum… My lord?” Scourge ventured, ready to duck aside if Galvatron tried to stand up and shoot.

“What is it? Do you have any news about those slagging usurpers?” he growled as he swung his throne around to look at the two frightened Sweeps.

“Yes. This soldier has noticed suspicious activities close to sector 8,” Scourge informed him and then gave a shove to his sibling; “Tell him what you saw!” he ordered.

“Well,” The Sweep gulped, obviously having a hard time controlling his shaking legs, “We noticed activity around Soundwave’s quarters ten cycles ago. An unknown visitor came, and then left a few clicks ago. Right after, Soundwave left with his Cassettes and two other Transformers, and—”

Scourge dived to the ground as soon as he saw the red glow lighting up the dark space like heat lighting. His subordinate wasn’t as quick-witted; caught on the chest, he flied backwards and landed roughly on the ground, outside the quarters.

“I should have been more careful! Soundwave, of course! That makes sense!” Galvatron muttered, clenching and unclenching his fists uncontrollably. “He had always bemoaned Megatron’s fate, and now he tries to take over and place his ridiculous clones of Megatron and Starscream! I’ll show him that no one can defy me without regretting it dearly.” He threw a frightening bloody-red glare at Scourge. “Call Cyclonus and gather your Sweeps. We go to Sector 8 and intercept the traitor and his disgusting creations!” he barked.

Scourge forced himself not to tremble and knelt obediently whining: “At your command, mighty Galvatron.”

Charr – Sector 8

The landscape was deprived of any constructions; the dry and rocky ground of Charr had replaced the metal pavement, and the small buildings of the camps had been replaced by the sinister shapes of inhospitable canyons. There was no light in this area; Soundwave and Megatron ran using their infrared detectors as a guide. The Communications Officer’s children—or whatever they could be—were following behind and, to Megatron’s astonishment, they could fly.

“Is it far away?” The gladiator asked with concern. The darkness of this desert was reviving his suspicion of a trap by Galvatron or a betrayal from Soundwave.

“Destination: almost reached,” the Communication Officer replied, and suddenly pointed to the horizon; “Look!”

Megatron focused his optical sensors on the indicated point: a dark cylindrical construction was outlined against the background of rocks.

“Is that what you called a space bridge?” he asked, intrigued.

“Silence recommended. Stunticons guarding the access.”

The shape of the Space Bridge became clearer as they hid behind a rocky pillar, less than a mile from their destination; it was a massive construction, which was easily a kilometre in diameter. A dozen mechs could certainly stand in it without stepping on each other feet. He could also make out the shape of two mechs flanking the entrance; one was cube-shaped and slightly taller than Megatron while the other barely reached his shoulder.

“Prerequisite to the escape: get rid of Motormaster and Dead End.”

The gladiator nodded in approval and rested Starscream against the rocky surface of their shelter; the Seeker moaned weakly in response, clutching his shoulders in reluctance to let go.

“I have to leave for a few clicks, Little Prince. I need to clear the way,” Megatron whispered in his audios, enforcing his apology with a kiss. He then shifted his gaze to the mini-bots that had just landed by his side. “Take care of him while Soundwave and I are getting rid of those Stunticons.” He ordered.

The two little robots stood to attention before stepping to Starscream side, taking a defensive stance.

“Megatron… Time to act.”

The gladiator came back to kneel by Soundwave’s side and checked the settings of his dark cannon. “I take the biggest one. You take care of the other,” he informed, gripping his axe firmly in his hand.

O

They attacked shortly after, sweeping stealthily on their preys. Soundwave admired the agility and manoeuvrability of Megatron, far superior to the Slag Maker despite a heavier body. He had to set his admiration aside when Dead End shot at him, barely missing the tip of his right antenna. He ducked aside, rolling on the ground, giving his opponent an impression that he had been shot, and then leapt forward. He slammed full speed into the smaller frame of the Porsche-former, knocking him out with a single punch on the side of the helmet. Megatron landed in the same manner on the leader of the Stunticons, but Motormaster withstood the shock better than his team mate. He kicked the gladiator away and jumped to his feet with a growl of irritation. He launched himself against Megatron, who had fortunately seen him coming. Motormaster’s fist met the flat of the axe; the metal screeched in protest, barely covering the dull sound that the gladiator’s fist produced when it smashed into the Stunticon’s face. Motormaster stood back with a growl of pain, nose bleeding and jaw broken, but refused to admit defeat. He leapt again, his frontal attack promptly stopped by another uppercut that sent his CPU to crash. He collapsed to a heap, out of commission.

“We’re… done!” Megatron stammered, the excitement caused by this short brawl showing in the flickering of his optics. “What now?”

“Collect Starscream while I set coordinates.”

The gladiator ran back to the giant stalagmite without further ado, while Soundwave reached the command board. His hands shook slightly as he keyed in the coordinates of the unique Decepticon spacebridge still functional on planet Cybertron, part of him still wondering if he wasn’t committing suicide. The complex machine replied by humming as the protocol launched.

“Soundwave, we’re under attack!”

Megatron’s cry made his energon ran cold. Soundwave glanced above his shoulder and immediately pinpointed Galvatron, standing next to the rocky mass, flanked by Cyclonus and Scourge. Three other Sweeps were hovering behind them.

“Why are you surprised? Did you really think I would let you go so easily?” the Decepticon leader hissed, targeting a retreating Megatron with his golden cannon.

The deadly laser would have hit the gladiator in the back if the well-trained warrior hadn’t jumped to his side, rolling on the ground with Starscream in his arms. Megatron quickly jumped to his feet and shot straight into the pile of rocks, which exploded in a rain of brownish particles that sent Galvatron’s elite guard run for cover. The warlord didn’t move an inch, however.

“Not too bad!” Galvatron rewarded this performance by an insane chuckle. “Let’s get to the serious stuff!” he growled, beckoning his followers to join the battle. “Kill them!”

Already recovering from their brief moment of panic, the five Decepticons advanced on them, their footsteps making Soundwave cringe against the command board. Rumble and Frenzy stood in front of him, hiding their fear bravely by showing their pile drivers to the much larger mechs.

“Ravage! Buzzsaw! Laserbeak! Eject!”

O

Megatron propped Starscream against the wall of the spacebridge, checking briefly whether his Seeker hadn’t sustained further damage. Starscream nodded gently, not leaving his state of unconsciousness that protected him from the realization that their deactivation was very close. Glancing in the direction of Soundwave, he saw that the latter had released his other creations but felt no surprise. The danger was too great to be astonished by the navy-blue Transformer’s tricks.

‘I have to buy us some time,’ the gladiator reflected quickly, glaring at the purple cons that targeted him with their weapons. An idea suddenly came across his CPU: Galvatron was himself in the future. He certainly had the same faults as him, only magnified.

“Take care of Starscream!” he ordered Soundwave as he stood, glaring defiantly at the Decepticon leader. “Tell me Galvatron, are you such a coward that you have to send your pawns to stop me?” he mocked.

His remark hit the nail on the head; Galvatron’s scornful smirk transformed into a hideous grimace. Yes! He had always hated being called a coward.

“I’m going to rip you apart, piece after piece, and enjoy your screams of pain and fear!” the insane commander retorted, pointing at him. “Do you hear me, clone? I’m not a coward!”

Megatron checked out of the corner of his optics that Soundwave had grabbed Starscream and was discretely carrying him inside the spacebridge. Fortunately, his diversion was working, and he was the centre of all the Decepticons’ attention.

“Make me!” the gladiator spat back, grinning maliciously at Galvatron. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not a clone; I am Megatron, the real one. The Megatron who is going to kick you out of his way!”

Galvatron emitted a noise between a growl and a rattle, a sign that he was literally boiling. “Cyclonus! Scourge! Fall back! I’m going to silence this insolent braggart once and for all with my bare hands!” he barked, striding forward while fixing Megatron with a murderous look.

That glare, full of promises of merciless fighting and audacious battle tactics, warmed up his circuits. For a few clicks, Megatron forgot why he had provoked the Decepticon leader; he saw the gladiator that was still living in this shell, his base violent instincts fed by his madness. He was facing the perfect opponent Silvergun had always dreamt to bump into: himself.

“Megatron, you have to come. Now!” he heard Soundwave yelling.

The buzzing of the spacebridge increased to finally fill the space with its sinister rhythm. Megatron understood that it was now or never when the heavy gates shifted from the walls, closing the entrance. He had to leave, although it hurt his pride to run from Galvatron without giving him a taste of his power.

‘Leave it. Don’t get hoisted by your own petard! You’re the not the king in this arena!’ he rebuked himself. ‘The only thing that counts is being with Starscream!’

“You know what?” he cried to Galvatron as he pivoted on his heels. “Go and slag yourself!”

The word “coward” echoed in his audios, but he forced himself to ignore it. The only focus was the slagging doors that were closing, threatening to tear him apart from his beloved.

O

“He won’t make it!”

Soundwave and his cassettes watched with utter panic the silver-white gladiator dashing like a bolt of lightning, scraping his paint job against the surface of the doors that threatened to catch him in a deadly grip. Megatron managed to extract himself from the vice grip of the doors when a gold laser beam hit him on the right shoulder, propelling him forward. He crashed against Soundwave and Starscream, bearing them to the ground.

Slightly dazed by the shock, Soundwave watched colourful rainbows radiating from the upper edge of the spacebridge, piercing the dark of the sky with a deafening sound. Their journey to Cybertron was about to start.

 

Cybertron, Fifth Quadrant (formerly called Dark Mount Citadel)

 “Sector B25… Okay. Sector B26… no problem as well.” Perceptor scrolled through the list of areas around Dark Mount, checking for any sign of intrusion in the report. The area had been Megatron’s headquarters for eons, and, despite the fact that Cybertron was now in the grasp of the Autobots, they still feared that unpleasant surprises might have been awaiting them in the former citadel of the Slag Maker. Moreover, Blitzwing had reported a strange story according to which he had been taken hostage by a mech looking like Megatron, and forced to head to Charr. Perceptor hadn’t heard the details but he did not believe it. “He must have been drunk and imagined it,” the scientist spoke to himself. “It’s going to be one more peaceful night!” he concluded as no incident was reported.

He settled a little more comfortably in his chair and allowed himself a few clicks of rest to admire the starry sky and the vivid colours of the light of his home planet.

“Yes, it’s so nice to see peace ruling this planet again,” he sighed with satisfaction.

A blinding light suddenly forked the sky and fell on the abandoned spacebridge, just below the level of the outpost. The whole building trembled, unceremoniously bearing Perceptor to the ground. Shocked, the telescope-former forced himself to take a look from under the cover of his desk.

“Oh slag! Someone is using the spacebridge!” Perceptor felt his serenity shatter as he recollected that the Autobots had never managed to crack the facility’s codes. That meant that it had been accessed by… another Decepticon spacebridge.

“Rodimus Prime!” he stammered through his comlink, “Rodimus… Anybody! I think we have a situation here!”

Go to: Chapter 11 – Chapter 13