Archive of Our Own ^beta

Luna 2, 4,200 years ago

    "Drivetrain, where the frag are you? You were supposed to be here half a megacycle ago!"

    "Hold your turbofoxes, Momus. I'm on my way."

    "You'd better be, or I'll be docking you pay," Momus growled. "Again!"

    He started cursing to himself as he got off his communicator. It continued to baffle him why Drivetrain was at the rank he held. If it were up to him, he'd be kicking the tardy mech's afterburner all the way to Junkion.

    Just as he was about to return to his work, his comlink beeped again. Momus rolled his optics as he answered it, expecting another excuse from Drivetrain.

    "Look, Drivetrain, there's no--"

    "It's Frak, sir," a different mech's voice said. "Rushcut and I have found something that might interest you."

    "Make it quick, Frak. I've got datapads to fill."

    "We've found a green spark. I think... I think it's a Point One Percenter."

    "A Point One...." Momus' optics widened. "Are you... are you sure? Those are very occurrences, you know."

    "I know, sir, and I'm positive."

    The mining foreman slowly nodded to himself. "Very well." He then switched off his comlink and went to a completely different channel-- one he had never had to go to before.

    "Functionist Council? This is Momus of Helex. I'm calling a Code One-One-Three...."

Thymesis Energon Mining Facility

    Momus watched as the Functionists' Authenticator, a one-eyed mech known only as Three-of-Twelve, scanned the green spark which his two workers had discovered. A mix of emotions conflicted within him: nervousness about being in the presence of the mysterious and foreboding Functionist, hope that the spark would be authentic, and anticipation for the reward he would doubtlessly receive if it was.

    After several minutes, the Authenticator rose to his full height, towering a head taller than Momus, and turned to the foreman.

    "It is viable," Three-of-Twelve said in a dull, monotonous voice. "I shall arrange its excavation and prepare it for nurturing."

    Momus slowly nodded. "So... is it... is it really a Point One Percenter?"

    "A grave misuse of statistics, but yes." The Authenticator regarded the healthy green spark with his single optic. "The first in ten generations."

    "Meaning... there's a reward for this, right?"

    Three-of-Twelve turned to Momus and pressed two fingers to the miner's forehead. "By the power bestowed upon me by the Functionist Council, I declare you alt mode exempt. You are hereby reclassified and free to pursue a path of your own choosing."

    Before Momus could react to this, he heard a voice shout, "Hey!"

    Both mechs turned to Frak and Rushcut. The two miners had been silent during the inspection, but one of them clearly could not hold his piece for any longer.

    "We discovered the blasted thing!" Rushcut exclaimed. "What do we get?"

    "Just a drill would be nice," Frak murmured.

    Three-of-Twelve regarded them coldly. "Were you exposed to the first flash?"

    Rushcut scratched his head. "Exposed? Um, yeah, I guess...."

    "Then you get about six hours to live."

Years later

    He was without a name. All he knew was the generic designation he had been given from birth and the clinking of metal against stone that echoed throughout the mines of Kaon. He supposed it was only fitting that he be chained to a mine. After all, he had been born in one, so it would only be poetic that he died in one.

    That's what he had believed for nearly two thousand years. Then it happened.

    D-307 had been toiling away as usual, striking stone with his axe, when a bright violet light illuminated the mine. All heads turned to their fellow worker D-16, who had just uncovered a dark purple ore.

    In moments, their manager Backbite had come down to investigate the cessation of work. When he moved to claim the discovery, D-16 swiftly executed him and turned to his fellow minors. He rallied them to revolt, to break their chains, to defy the High Council, and to identify as individuals rather than nameless laborers. 

    D-307 was the first to raise his voice in assent. From then on, he was Overlord.

I. The Student

    "How is my favorite student doing today?"

    Shockwave looked up from his energon rations to see a winged orange mech approaching him. Smiling, he said, "Quite well, Jhiaxus. And you?"

    Jhiaxus snorted. "Not so well; my processors been aching ever since Azimuth presented me with her theory about why time seems to pass quicker for us than the rest of the galaxy. She was making sense until she brought up quantum theories and words even I've never heard of."

    "That's Azimuth for you. Never use six words when thirteen thousand will do."

    Jhiaxus laughed at that. "Very true. Now then, what have you been working on?"

    "Trying to see if Synthetic Energon has any effect on normal energon ratio--"

    The tray which his meal had been on suddenly erupted into flames.

    "Ah. I suppose it does."

II. The Prophecy

    "...In short, I believe Nova Prime's Expansion program will result in a shortage of energon and Cybertron may eventually become unable to support our race." Shockwave looked at Jhiaxus expectantly as he finished presenting his theory.

    The old Seeker scratched his chin before saying, "This is indeed worrisome. Luckily, Prime is planning on leading an expedition, more expansive than any others in the past. Perhaps he will find more energon then."

    Shockwave frowned. "And if not?"

    Jhiaxus went silent again, considering the question. "There is a prophecy--"

    "We're scientists, teacher. Prophecies mean nothing to us."

    "Yes, I know, but hear me out. It's called the Dark Cybertron prophecy, dictated by a clan of Mortilus worshipers."

    Shockwave shook his head. "Teacher, if this prophecy is supposed to make me feel better, then--"

    "A fretful sky / An absent sun / A distant heat / A deathly hand / City against city / While the planet turns from gold to gray / And gray to black / No yesterday / No tomorrow / Just an everlasting now / Fleeting and forever / Circle, cycle, scythe / And the six-sided architect / Freethinking / Unblinking / Holds the fate of all things / In the palm of his hand."

    Shockwave stared at his teacher, unsure on what to make of his words. "I... what do you suppose that means? What does that have to do with our impending situation?"

    Jhiaxus smiled as he laid a hand on his student's shoulder. "I know you'll find the answer to that."

III. The Plans

    Shockwave had witnessed the Ark's departure and watched it until it became a mere glint in the sky. While the rest of the crowd fell into murmurs about life without Nova Prime, Shockwave broke away and headed for Jhiaxus' old academy, which had been abandoned when his former teacher joined the Ark's crew.

    Entering Jhiaxus' office, Shockwave began to sifle through his mentor's work, which he had been requested to do shortly before Jhiaxus left. The first thing to catch his eye was a datapad labeled "Monstructor."

    Shockwave grimaced at the name. A year ago, Jhiaxus had attempted to create the first gestalt Transformer. The result had been Monstructor, who went insane and began to ravage Cybertron. It took the mighty Omega Supreme to stop the uncontrollable abomination and Crystal City, the symbol of Nova Prime's Golden Age, was destroyed in the process.

    As he viewed the schematics on the datapad, Shockwave's disdain slowly turned into intrigue. Perhaps with the right person at the helm, such an experiment could possibly succeed. What purpose it would have, he was not certain; nevertheless, he would make sure to keep the datapad handy.

IV. The Outlier

    Over the next several millennia, Shockwave rose in popularity, becoming a renowned scientist, head of the Ministry of Science, and finally a member of the High Council. He had no doubt that, if he was still alive, Jhiaxus would be very proud of him.

    As such, in order to honor his former mentor, he had decided to open the Jhiaxian Academy of Advanced Technology, where he would continue Jhiaxus' studies and educate others like he had been.

    Unbeknownst to anyone else-- not even the High Council-- the J.A.A.T. was also a haven to Cybertronians gifted with powers not tied to their alternate modes, called outliers. Here, Shockwave would help these unique bots master their abilities and conceal them from prejudiced Functionists.

    It wasn't until several years into his career, shortly after the Great War had ended, that he came across a most peculiar outlier, living out on the streets of Rodion. Covered in blue and gray armor plating, the strange mech had a stoic visage, his optics concealed by a red visor. When Shockwave passed him, he dropped a few dozen credits at the vagrant's feet, hoping it would get him by. When the stranger began to follow him, Shockwave turned to confront him, his arms crossed.

    "Now listen here; I've given you a decent amount of credits. I'm afraid I cannot give you any more than that. If you're in need of shelter, I'm sure--"

    The vagrant silenced him with the raise of a hand before getting down to his knees. He scribbled something into the ground with a piece of metal, which Shockwave tilted his head to read.

    J.A.A.T.

    "Yes, I am headmaster of the J.A.A.T. But how do you know of it? That's all the way in Iacon."

    More scribbling. I can read your mind.

    The realization dawned on Shockwave. "Ah, I see now. Do you wish to be taken under my care?"

    The mute mech nodded.

    Shockwave smiled. "Then I would be happy too. And perhaps we can help you find your voice as well. What is your name?"

    Soundwave.

V. The Offer

    Over nine hundred years after his encounter with Soundwave, Shockwave had been paid a visit by an unwanted guest.

    Just as he was about to retire for the night, Shockwave had entered his quarters and found Trannis, the exiled leader of the Decepticons, resting comfortably in his chair. Shockwave opened his mouth to call for security but was dissuaded by a cannon barrel aimed at his face.

    "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Trannis said, grinning with malice. "I just wanted to talk."

    Shockwave glowered at him. "Whatever you have to say, I'll have you know that I am not interested in it."

    "We'll see about that." Trannis gestured to the chair opposite him. "Please, take a seat. I have an offer for you."

    Reluctantly, Shockwave sat down across from the Decepticon leader. "What kind of offer?"

    "One you cannot refuse. I understand that you have studied the teachings of Jhiaxus in a thorough manner, correct?"

    "Yes. What of it?"

    "Would you like to see them come to fruition?"

    The councilor blinked. "What are you talking about?"

    Trannis gestured with his hand. "Sentinel Prime's regime is faltering. This Golden Age is a mere shadow of its predecessor. New leadership is necessary."

    "You're talking about yourself."

    "Of course," Trannis said as if it were obvious. "But this is not the Cybertron I wish to rule. Poverty is everywhere, energon sources are low...."

    "You've heard about my proposed Regenesis program, haven't you?" Shockwave said. "To plant energon seeds on other worlds."

    "Indeed. Sentinel Prime was a fool to reject your plan. How else are we suppose to thrive as a race? So that is my offer: to let your Regenesis program become a reality."

    "In exchange for...?"

    "Joining the Decepticons and following my orders." Trannis smirked. "Simple enough, yes?"

    Shockwave mulled over the offer. Although it was against his moral judgment to side with a faction as ruthless as the Decepticons, he knew it would be all for the greater good. It was the only logical conclusion.

    He met the Decepticon leader's gaze. "I accept."

I. Soundwaves

    The first thing he remembered seeing were street lights. He had no idea where he was, how he had gotten here, or why. All he knew was that he could hear everything: from the roar of jets shooting through the sky to conversations murmured in private. More than that, he could hear the thoughts of those who walked right past him, apathetic to his situation.

    --worthless beggar--

    --good for nothing--

    --what use are they--

    He clutched his head. The sound waves were too numerous for him to handle. He could not take it. Curling into a fetal position, he sat there for a long time.

II. Ravage

    He was awakened by something nudging into his arm. He sat up to see a black cybercat, which blended into the night, its red optical sensors glowing at him. With the feline were two avian creatures, both regarding him in curiosity.

    "R-Ravage," he said to the feline. "Your name... it's Ravage."

    The cybercat tilted its head and did something unexpected; it spoke. "How do you know? I hadn't even said anything."

    "Your mind... I can read it. Your friends... they're Laserbeak and... Buzzsaw."

    Ravage exchanged glances with his two companions before saying, "Right. And you are?"

    He did not hear the question; instead, he started murmuring to himself. "The sound waves...."

    "Soundwave? Nice name." Ravage stepped closer to him. "You know... I can empathize with what your going through. I have a unique ability myself; I can smell anything for several miles. Took years to master it."

    Soundwave tilted his head. "Could you... help me?"

    Ravage stared at him before swaying his head in a nod. "Sure. From one outlier to another."

III. Mute

    A few weeks after meeting Ravage, he was attacked by a gang of thugs. They had beaten him up and tossed him about, laughing as they did. When they were finished, they saw that he had no money or valuable possessions to rob him of. So they tore out his vocal processor and left him for dead.

    Had it not been for Ravage and the others' efforts to repair him, he would have surely died. He owed his life to them, to their selflessness and loyalty.

    But he could not voice his gratitude. All he could do was vow to himself that he would one day return the favor.

IV. Haven

    Soundwave had heard of the Jhiaxian Academy of Advanced Technology and knew it to be a haven for outliers like himself. Nonetheless, he was amazed to see the many Cybertronians that, much like himself, had unique powers not tied to their alt mode.

    He watched each one as they practiced their abilities: Trailbreaker with his forcefields, Skywarp with his teleportation abilities... he could only hope that he could learn to master his own powers like they had.

    Either way, he knew that he would be safe here.

V. Ratbat

    When Soundwave first met Councilor Ratbat, he instantly hated him.

    Armored in reflective violet and black plating, with gold accents, Ratbat wore a charming smile on his visage, but Soundwave knew it was a facade. He had read the councilor's thoughts and saw nothing but ruthless greed and ambition.

    When Ratbat arrived at the academy, Shockwave greeted him like an old, trusted colleague, but Soundwave knew it was a mere formality to conceal the animosity they held for each other.

    "So this is the one you were talking about?" Ratbat asked his rival, gesturing at Soundwave.

    "Yes," Shockwave said. "Soundwave here is very adept in stealth and guile, and can 'read' people very well."

    Ratbat scratched his chin, visible intrigued. "Interesting. Does he have any tricks?"

    Shockwave smiled. "As a matter of face, yes. Show him, Soundwave."

    Soundwave nodded and spoke with the new, monotonic vocabulator Shockwave had installed into him. "Ravage, Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, eject. Operation: Demonstration."

    The window-shaped panel on his chest lowered and three data discs shot out, converting into three different creatures. Ravage stood menacingly at his feet while Laserbeak and Buzzsaw perched on his arm and shoulder, respectively.

    Ratbat smirked. "Impressive. I do believe you're the right person for the job, Soundwave."

    Soundwave bowed slightly. "I live to serve you, Councilor Ratbat."

VI. Injured

    "Ah, there you are, Soundwave," Ratbat said as he entered his servant's quarters. "You hardly ever visit your quarters, so I didn't think to search for you here."

    Soundwave did not respond, too engrossed with a more pressing matter.

    "Soundwave?" Ratbat tapped him on the shoulder. "Are you all right?"

    "Ravage is not," Soundwave said in his typical monotone. "He has been injured."

    Ratbat scoffed in derision. "Such a shame. I'll find you a new pet."

    Soundwave tensed. "Not necessary. He is still alive."

    "But what good is it if it's too hurt to do anything? Just throw it away and get a new one."

    Moving without thinking, Soundwave spun around to face the councilor, ire glinting in his red visor. "Negative. I can fix him."

    Ratbat sneered. "Why do you spare these pitiful creatures any compassion? They're disposable class; expendable slaves made to do our bidding until they're no longer of use to us."

    Soundwave's hands rolled into fists; it took every bit of his will to not bash the councilor's face with them. "I can fix him."

    Ratbat snorted. "You have until tomorrow to do that, or I will have to dispose of it myself."

    With that, he strode away. Soundwave continued to glare at him as he went, silently vowing to himself that this was far from over.

VII. Retribution

    Ratbat stood at the window of his office, watching as Autobots and Decepticons fought down below. This was merely the beginning of the Decepticons reemergence; at this very moment, Trannis' protege was preparing to assassinate Sentinel Prime.

    The battle did not last long, as Soundwave expected. The Devastator Winds created by the Constructicons' generator were no doubt approaching the battlefield by now.

    Clueless as always, Ratbat said, "What's going on? Why are they running?"

    "Councilor, Devastator Winds detected," Soundwave said. "Approaching Tyger Pax at eighty miles per hour."

    Ratbat tensed and Soundwave could instantly read the terror and regret in his mind. He most likely did not expect the Decepticons to take things this far.

    "Then we had better get a move on," the councilor said. "Prepare my shuttle."

    Soundwave knew that this was his opportunity, and he seized it. "The shuttle will not be able to take off in time. I suggest we take an alternate escape route."

    Ratbat turned to him, eyebrows raised. "And what would that be?"

    "First of all, adjustments must be made. Laserbeak, Ravage, eject. Operation: Assimilation."

    His two pets shot out of his chest and began to surround the councilor, malicious hunger gleaming in their optics.

    "What is the meaning of this?" Ratbat demanded. "Are you threatening me?"

    "Negative. I am protecting you."

    At their master's beckoning, Ravage and Laserbeak lunged at Ratbat and began to tear at him, ripping him apart. Before long, they had torn open a hole in the councilor's chest, at which point Soundwave signaled them to stop. He then walked over to Ratbat's form and extracted his spark from it. At the same time, a violet-shaded data disc launched from Soundwave's chest and ended up in his other hand.

    Let us see how you enjoy being "disposable," Soundwave thought as he opened a port for Ratbat's spark in the disc.

VIII. Megatron

    The new leader of the Decepticons seated himself comfortable on the throne at New Kaon. It wasn't long ago that Soundwave had bore witness to him overthrowing Trannis. Such a feat proved that this Megatron person was someone to be reckoned with.

    Reading the ex-Autobot's thoughts, Soundwave knew that someone would have to keep an eye on him, lest he let his ambition get the best of him. Soundwave would be that person, and Megatron would know that he was being watched.

    After all, what was a ruler without a shadow?

Rung's Case Notes File TM-3-10-98
Submitted: Cycle 9099
Subject: Ariel

    Right then. This one's a tricky case.

    Ariel was constructed cold on Cycle 8514, approximately three hundred years before the start of the Second Great War. However, the spark she was spliced from was incredibly drained; as a result, several of her systems, including her transformation cog, were rendered non functional.

    Because of being, effectively, a monoformer, as well as being constructed cold, she was frequently bullied and picked on by her peers at the Omnihelix Academy. This eventually became too much for her, and she screamed for them to stop... only to unleash a super-sonic scream that destroyed a good sixty-seven percent of the academy.

    As a result, Ariel was incarcerated at Garrus-16 by High Command. However, her sister bailed her out and promised to keep a careful optic on her. Several years passed without any incident... that is, until two months ago when Ariel vanished while the scout team she was a part of investigated a breakout at the Ferromax Detention Center. Afraid that she had been abandoned by her somewhat bigoted comrades, I personally asked Autobot Detective Nightbeat to find her.

    Thankfully, just last week, he returned with Ariel, who was unharmed. I put her through a therapy session to hear her tale.

    The results were... starling, to say the least.

Transcript begins

    Rung: Would you like a glass of energon?

    Ariel: No, thank you....

    Rung: Very well, then let us begin. First, tell me how well you got along with your teammates.

    Ariel: I... they didn't like me very much. They always picked on me and made fun of me not being able to transform. One of them... he called me an Action Master. I... I don't even know what that is.

    Rung: The Action Masters were a subgroup of the Militiant Monoform Movement. They were a bit more... anarchist than the rest of Triple M.

    Ariel: Why did he call me that then?

    Rung: I don't know. He could have been trying to provoke you, which, thankfully, he failed in. How did you get separated from your teammates.

    Ariel: We... we found these... these ruins in an asteroid belt. We were exploring it in our ship and....

    Rung: And...?

    Ariel: ...And I was playing with Sparkle.

    Rung: Sparkle?

    Ariel: My doll.

    Rung: Ah, I see. Go on.

    Ariel: I was playing with Sparkle and... and Plummet started teasing me about playing with toys, then he... then he took Sparkle and... and threw her out the ship.

    Rung: What did you do?

    Ariel: I went after her and then... and the others... flew away.

    Rung: I see. Then what happened?

    Ariel: I found Sparkle and... we went exploring on the asteroid. I... at first, I wondered if Plummet and the others were playing a game with me, but... they probably weren't, were they?

    Rung: I... very much doubt that. Please, go on.

    Ariel: Then I found this cave and... I could hear noises. Someone was in there.

    Rung: It could have been something. It was dangerous to go in there.

    Ariel: Yes, but... there was a very nice person in there. He was big and red with green optics and--

    Rung: What was his name?

    Ariel: X.

    Rung: Just that?

    Ariel: Yes.

    (Silence)

    Rung: Did he say anything to you?

    Ariel: Oh, yes! We talked about lots and lots of stuff. We had a lot in common.

    Rung: Such as?

    Ariel: Well, he said that people didn't like him either. That he got made fun of too. That's why he was on the asteroid all alone.

    Rung: So... you became friends with him?

    Ariel: Of course! I wanted to keep him company, and he seemed to like having me around. 

    Rung: Is that right? So, when Nightbeat found you....

    Ariel: I was outside the cave, collecting gems-- there were lots there!-- when Nightbeat appeared and told me it was time to go home. I was happy that someone had found me, but I couldn't leave without X. I tried to tell Nightbeat, but he wouldn't listen....

    (Silence)

    Rung: Right. Um, you see, Ariel... there's something you need to know.

    Ariel: What, Rang?

    Rung: It's Rung. See, not every 'bot can be your friend-- I'm sure you know that what with your experiences with Plummet and the others.

    Ariel: Plummet's mean!

    Rung: But X is even worse.

    Ariel: Wh-what?

    Rung: Ariel, X is wanted for the deaths of hundreds. Those ruins your team were exploring? He mad them that way.

    Ariel: N-no... X would never do that.

    Rung: He would. He has. I do believe he was planning to kill you.

    Ariel: But... but he acted nice to me!

    Rung: A ruse, most likely, so you wouldn't expect--

    Ariel: You're lying! You just don't want me to have friends because I'm... I'm different!

    Rung: Ariel, please, I'm only trying to--

    Ariel: You're mean! All of you! (The sound of running)

    Rung: No, don't--!

    (A door slam. A crash. Silence. Then, a door opening)

    ???: That went well.

    Rung: Not now, Kaput.

End transcript

    Yes, that certainly could have gone better. We were eventually able to calm Ariel down and I went through more sessions with her. Over time, she learned to control her emotions and her power scream. As far as I know, she is now serving on another scout team, this time with teammates who accept her for who she is.

    As for her encounter with Protoform X... I must confess that I am curious. Ariel was with him for two months. For as... naive as she is, X could have easily tricked her into being murdered far earlier than that. Could it be that he actually found a kindred spark with Ariel, who had been rejected by society as well?

    Alas, the answers lie only with the mad.

Tesarus, First Great War (Cycle 7784)

    "Ripcord, where's Impactor?"

    From his spot in the trench which the Wreckers had dug out on Tesarus' battlefield, the silver and blue Autobot turned to his commander Crest and shrugged.

    "No idea, sir. I paired him up with Piston; haven't seen either of 'em since."

    Crest scowled as he dodged enemy fire. "That kid's gonna get us killed if no one keeps a leash on him."

    "Wait, sir! I see him!" Valve called from the watchtower. "He's... he's taken on Eradicon."

    Crest's optics dilated. "What?! Is Piston with him?"

    "Yeah, he's... one of the two corpses by Impactor."

    "One of--? Who's the other?"

    "Eradicon."

Iacon (Cycle 7784)

    "Crest, my suspension of disbelief can only go so far," Sentinel Prime said to the Wrecker commander as the former paced in his office. "Do you mean to tell me this rookie-- Impactor-- killed one of Trannis' top generals with his bare hands?"

    "That's what I said," Crest said sharply.

    Sentinel gave him a skeptical look. "Why should I believe you? Did you even witness him?"

    "Well, no--"

    "Then we have nothing more to discuss," the Prime said gruffly. "Regardless of the truth, Eradicon is dead."

    "But, Prime, he killed a mech--"

    "What else would you expect in war? I said we have nothing more to discuss, commander. Please leave."

    With a huff, Crest did as ordered.

Uraya, First Great War (Cycle 7814)

    "Medic! We need a medic!"

    Three vehicles drove up to the two Autobots' position. One of them, a white and blue rocket launcher, transformed and rushed over to them, carrying a first aid kit. The others morphed as well, grimacing at the gaping hole in Crest's chest.

    Cradling his leader's body in his arms, Impactor looked up at Fastfix imploringly. "Fix him."

    The medic frowned. "I'm sorry, Impactor, but... his spark's been extinguished. There's nothing I can do."

    The violet and gold Autobot lowered his head in sorrow. Hyperion, the late Crest's second-in-command, walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

    "Who did this?" he asked.

    "Clench," Impactor said through gritted metal teeth.

    "Where is he now?"

    "He got away. His friends weren't so lucky."

    Hyperion frowned as he looked up, finally noticing the corpses that littered the battlefield of Uraya. "You... caused all of this?"

    Impactor said nothing.

    Hyperion sighed. "No matter. Let's get back to Iacon."

    "The transports are all filled with refugees," Ripcord said. "We'll have to leave Crest here."

    The other Wreckers expected Impactor to protest, but instead the violet mech simply got up from Crest's body and walked with them to the last transport.

Toxic Sludge Swamps, Second Great War (Cycle 8823)

    "Take that, you cybernetic freak!" Springer shouted as he shot down a Slicer whilst in midair.

    Tomahawk rolled his optics at his comrade's bravado. It almost seemed like a requirement that all Heliobots be reckless thrill-seekers. It was a wonder that they had suffered little to no casualties yet.

    Suddenly, one of the abominable Slicers that lurked the Sludge Swamps was upon him, pinning him to the ground. He wrestled with the creature's grip, trying to get a missile launcher aimed at it, but his attempts were in vain.

    Just as Tomahawk was ready to accept his fat, a silver blade descended, cutting through the Slicer's neck. A couple blast shots finished it for good. The old Autobot pushed the creature's smoldering corpse off of him and looked up to see Springer's smug visage.

    As much as he wanted to slap the expression off of the rookie's faceplate, Tomahawk couldn't help but smile back. "Nice one, kid. I thought for sure I was a goner."

    "Don't mention it," Springer said. "Really you should be thanking Sensei Yoketron; if it weren't for him, I'd be slicing my own head off."

    Tomahawk chuckled. At least he can be humble at times.

    He suddenly stopped when he saw a figure approaching through the fog. Thinking it to be another Slicer, he scrambled to his feet and aimed his blasters.

    "Easy, old friend," a voice came. "It's me."

    Tomahawk lowered his weapons. "Impactor."

    A battle-worn purple and gold Autobot emerged from the fog, his hands planted on his hips. Looking at Springer, he said, "That was some nice work you did there, kid."

    Springer blinked, clearly awed by being complimented by a veteran such as Impactor. "Uh, thank you, sir."

    Impactor smirked. "Don't call me 'sir.' We're teammates, you and I."

    "We are?"

    "Yup. I saw your name on the reservist list. I am here to welcome you into the Wreckers."

Pova, Second Great War (Cycle 9664)

    Consciousness gradually came to Springer as his systems began to reboot. Immediately feeling the aching pain in his midsection, he remembered what had just happened.

    The Wreckers had been cornered by their life-long rivals, Squadron X. He had been trapped under rubble. Impactor had been there, but instead of coming to his lieutenant's rescue, he had used his body as a shield and fired a gun straight through his abdomen. Then darkness consumed him.

    His optics finally coming back online, Springer saw Impactor and the others standing over him, most likely unaware that he was still functioning.

    "--Squadron X uncomfortable," Roadbuster was saying. "Got inhibitor claws and mode locks on them just to crank up the humiliation."

    Grunting in satisfaction, Impactor brought out a communication device; the holographic visage of Prowl appeared.

    "We've got 'em, Prowl. Macabre, Fang, Triton; they're all rounded up and ready to go to Garrus-9."

    "What is your location?"

    "Pova, in the Redan Quadrant."

    Prowl frowned. "Then we have a problem. Pova has been declared neutral territory by both factions. Release them immediately before the Decepticons use this to turn the Povians against us."

    Impactor scowled. "Over my dead body."

    Prowl glared at him. "This is non-negotiable. Let them go now; that's an order. Prowl, out."

    The connection ended and Impactor immediately held a hand out to Roadbuster. "Gun. Now."

    The orange Autobot complied. As Impactor stormed over to the facility where the Squadron X members were being held, Springer knew right away what the Wrecker leader was planning to do.

    "Impactor! Wait!" he cried as he got to his feet and staggered after him. But the Autobot he had long idolized and looked up to did not listen. He strode into the cell and locked the door behind him.

    Bang.

    Springer threw himself against the door.

    Bang.

    Whirl and Roadbuster looked away in shame.

    Bang.

    Sandstorm and Broadside turned a blind eye.

    Bang.

    Rack'n'Ruin was unreadable as ever.

    Bang.

    The door gave way and Springer fell through. He looked up and saw, in horror, that he was already too late.

    Standing there was Impactor. And at his feet were five murdered prisoners of war.

The Tidal Wave, Cycle 9704

    In the three years that had followed Thundertron's demise at Scorponok's hand, Axer found himself enjoying the Star Seekers' company more than he ever had in the past. He owed much of that to Cannonball becoming captain and allowing more Cybertronians on board, primarily ex-Decepticons, giving Axer someone to talk to.

    Regardless, there was one Star Seeker whom he was the most friendly with, though only because they were friendly with pretty much everyone. Known only by the name of Thunderlane (despite his beastial alt mode), the old mech ran the oil pit bar on board the Tidal Wave. Having been with the Star Seekers since the beginning, he was an endless repository for stories. And Axer happened to be a captive audience for them.

    As Axer seated himself at the counter, Thunderlane flashed him a grin. "What'll it be, lad? The usual?"

    "Actually, I'm in the mood for some Nightmare Fuel." Axer dropped a few credits on the counter. "And maybe a tale of yours, if you're fine with that."

    Thunderlane laughed as he prepared Axer's beverage. "You're the only one who listens so of course I'm fine with it. What do ya want to know?"

    "How did Thundertron come to lead the Star Seekers?"

    Thunderlane's face darkened as he handed the ex-Decepticon his drink. "Aye, now that is quite the tale. Let's see... it all started over nine hundred years ago, give or take, when someone else was commandin' the Tidal Wave."

    "Who?" 

    "Cannonball. Oh, but not the one you know, rather someone with his name. Thundertron had been his first mate, up until then...."

Toruin, 985 years ago

    "Arr! These Genericons don't know when to let up!" Cannonball the Fourth bellowed as he fired his arm cannon from the boarding ramp of the Tidal Wave. The massive ship was trapped in the sky of Toruin, having been caught by a tractor beam.

    At his side was Thundertron, deflecting fire with his sword. "Maybe if you didn't murder their king, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

    The captain sneered. "Let's see you do better, beastie. You probably would have done the same, being the savage beast that you are!"

    "Yes, I might have," Thundertron snarled. "But I would have planned it out, consider the consequences, weighed my options, and do a much more thorough job!"

    Cannonball snorted. "A pity, then, that you are not captain."

    "That can be easily remedied."

    Cannonball never had the chance to react to this statement before he was sent plummeting towards the ground. As he landed hard on his back, he saw his former first mate close the boarding ramp behind him. Moments later, the Tidal Wave's outer guns fired at the tractor beam generator, destroying it, before taking for the skies. Cannonball opened his mouth to let loose a string of curses, but fell silent when a crowd of angered Toruin natives surrounded him....

Present

    "He pushed him off?"

    Thunderlane nodded. "And from that point forward, Thundertron had total reign on the Tidal Wave. He had all of the Cybertronians on board-- and any who tried to join afterwards-- executed... with one exception."

    "The current Cannonball."

    "Right on, lad." Thunderlane moved to serve a white mech who had just sat down next to Axer. "Hard to believe though, isn't it? All it took was a simple push to end-- at the time, of course-- the legacy of captains which had lasted for thousands of years."

    "Thank Primus it didn't last," muttered the mech next to Axer. "Otherwise, Tornado and I would still be moseying around asteroid fields."

    Axer turned to face him. "I know you. You're Ferak, right? Inventor of the Nightmare Engine?"

    "My reputation precedes me," the ex-Decepticon grunted. "What's it to ya', pal?"

    "Well, what the slag are you doing in a joint like this? I thought you died at Pova with the rest of Squadron X."

    Ferak smirked. "I would've if I hadn't done the smart thing and ran. Me and Tornado tailed out as soon as the Wreckers showed up. Macabre never got the chance to shoot us down when Impactor started pummeling him. We wandered the stars for spark knows how long until we were picked up by you guys a year ago."

    Axer nodded. "So how are you liking it here so far?"

    Ferak shrugged. "Eh, I've been on worse ships. The Pale Fire was nothing special... though I've been meaning to ask: is it just me, or does this ship look like it could--"

    "All hands on deck!" the gruff voice of first mate Stronghorn sounded through the intercom. "Repeat: All hands on deck! We need reinforcements here on the bridge."

    Axer frowned. "Are we under attack?"

    Thunderlane shook his head. "Don't reckon so, lad. If it's on the bridge, then our captain's probably just havin' trouble with negotiations...."

*  *  *

    "You loathsome cretin!" 

    All optics watched as the black-armored femme hoisted Cannonball up in the air, an impressive feat given her more slender form than his bulky build. "You chiseled me!"

    "So I gave you 650 Shanix instead of 700." Cannonball managed a grin despite the femme's choke-hold on him. "I'm sure you'll get by; a beauty like you probably has it easy."

    Flamewar's optics blazed hatefully. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

    "My first guess would be the High Duchess of Vestum, but you're not quite ugly enough."

    Infuriated by this statement, Flamewar prepared to claw at the captain's face but was suddenly tackled from behind by two identical mechs in white and aqua green. They wrenched the crazed femme away from Cannonball and pinned her arms behind her back.

    Massaging his neck, Cannonball smirked at Flamewar. "You're a fierce one, lassie, I'll give you that. We could use someone with your ferocity; you'd fit right in."

    Flamewar sneered at him. "My loyalty lies only with the Decepticon Empire!"

    Cannonball shrugged nonchalantly. "Your loss. It was a pleasure doing business with you, milady. Cutback, Lockpick, take her away."

    As the two clones left the bridge with Flamewar, Axer stepped from the crowd that had gathered to watch the spat.

    "Er, is everything under control, cap'n?"

    "Everything is just dandy!" Cannonball said, taking a swig from a can of energon. "Now get back to work, ye scaly wags! Set sail for Athenia!"

    As they headed for their stations, Axer whispered to Ferak, "So, any second thoughts yet?"

    Ferak grinned wickedly. "You kidding? This pirate's life is just right for me!"

    Axer returned the smile. "On that, we can agree on."

Cycle 9314 (300 years into the war)

    Shaky fingers gripped the edge of the coffin lid. He both dreaded and hoped for what he would find underneath it; he needed answers, even if they brought him grief and despair. Gingerly, he slid the coffin open.

    Laying within was the body of a teal and black mech, a Decepticon symbol emboldened on his shoulder.

    Rewind closed the lid, hanging his head in sorrow. He had not found what he was looking for; how long would it be before he did?

*  *  *

    "Next."

    The Decepticon sitting to Chromedome's right got to his feet. Giving one last glance at the three others he had been speaking with, the violet and silver mech stepped out of the waiting room and into what would soon be his resting place.

    "Can't help but feel sorry for that mech," said the Decepticon to Chromedome's left. "That story about how he lost his brother... that just tears at the spark."

    Chromedome nodded in agreement. He had never thought he would ever feel sympathy for a Decepticon, but seeing how anyone sitting here in this room was prepared to die, differences between factions hardly mattered anymore.

    "Raises the question, though," said a third Decepticon. "What's your guys' stories? Why are you here?"

    The second Decepticon sighed softly, bitter memories showing in his optics. "For me, it all started when I got kicked out of the Primal Vanguard. I signed up for Trannis' revolt after that, and I thought I had found my calling then. But then I foiled up a battle campaign and... well, let's just say Megatron's not happy. And I'd rather die peacefully then suffer whatever fate he has in mind for me. Name's Mortar, by the way."

    "I'm Static," the other Decepticon said. "Former Communications. I got forced to listen in to the Simanzi Massacres and similar events onward. It's gotten too much for me to--"

    "Chromedome."

    At the sound of his name being called, Chromedome lifted himself off of the bench he had been sitting on. Giving a simple nod of farewell to the two Decepticons, he headed into the next room. It was then that he heard an anguished cry.

*  *  *

    Rewind held his head in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Failure yet again. It had been this way for several centuries now....

    Well after the war was underway, his life had taken a turn for the worse. The one mech he had held in higher regard than any other had vanished without a trace. Since then, he had spent his life searching for him, scouring battlefields and perusing war footage for anything that gave him his whereabouts, regardless of fate.

    "The worse the death, the more painful the memories."

    Rewind turned around to find a brown and red mech standing there, a sad look in his yellow visor. Tilting his head, Rewind said, "Who are you?"

    "Everyone calls me Chromedome. And I'm here to do something about it." The mech seemed to stare out into space for a moment before saying, "What's your story?"

    Rewind was hesitant to open his heart out to this complete stranger, even though they were wearing the same badge. But ever since he started his lifelong quest, he had never confided in anyone; not his brother Eject, nor his friend Blaster. He had to tell someone, and Chromedome seemed like a welcoming enough person.

    So he told him. He told him about his servitude and later bond to Dominus Ambus. He told him about their exploits-- searching for Luna 1 and a cure for Cybercrosis. He told him about life as a member of the disposable class, fighting for rights. He then told him about Dominus Ambus' disappearance and how he had searched for him, diving into illicit practices to do so.

    He poured all of his sorrows onto this stranger, who simply listened without a word. Rewind wasn't searching for sympathy by doing this; he simply needed someone to hear his story, to hear the grief he had kept bottled for so long.

    He needed someone like Dominus.

    When he was finished, Chromedome knelt down and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

    "I feel your pain," he said softly. "I've lost people close to me as well, and I've... done things that I regret. I came here to end all of the suffering, but now...."

    Rewind tilted his head. "Yes?"

    "...Now, I know that there are some people who have it worse than me-- a lot worse than me. And yet they get by. They brave whatever life throws at them. They thrive. And here I was running away from it, like a coward."

    "You're not a coward. We all have our breaking points...." Rewind looked forlorn at the coffin. "I might have just found mine."

    "You can't give up now," Chromedome insisted. "Dominus Ambus is still out there, one way or another, and I'm going to help you find him."

    Rewind looked up at him with a hopeful look. "You... you promise?"

    "Cross my spark."

Cycle 9324 (10 years later)

    Chromedome woke up screaming.

    "Don't pull the trigger!"

    "What trigger?"

    Chromedome turned to see Rewind standing at his recharge slab. Instantly, the memory of his dream-- or nightmare, rather-- faded away and he remembered that he was still on Kimia Station, resting in the habitation suite he shared with Rewind.

    Rubbing the back of his head, Chromedome murmured, "Nothing. It was... it was just a bad dream."

    Rewind folded his arms. "A dream about someone holding a gun to you?"

    "Actually, I wasn't even in the dream. I was...." Chromedome paused, unsure whether to continue. Then, remembering how Rewind had opened himself up to him ten years ago, he supposed it was time for him to do the same. "Have you ever heard of mnemosurgery?"

    "No. What is it?"

    After making sure the room was audio-protected, Chromedome told him. He told him about the practice of reading others memories, altering or erasing them if necessary. He told him about his work at the New Institute. He told him about the lives he had been forced to change.

    When he was finished, there was silence. Then, Rewind stepped closer to him and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "Promise me something."

    Chromedome craned his head to look at him. "What?"

    "Promise me that you'll stop altering people's memories; that you'll stop... injecting. Not only is it hurtful to others, but it's hurtful to you. Please... do it for me."

    Chromedome stared at Rewind, seeing the pleading look in the archivist's gaze. He then gave him an assuring nod.

    "Cross my spark."

Cycle 9701 (377 years later)

    "Take a seat."

    "What is this about, Prowl?" Chromedome said as he sat across from his former partner. "I thought you were busy with helping Magnus set up the roster for Prime's Ark."

    "I was," Prowl said, pressing his finger tips together and he propped his elbows on his desk. "I still am. This is about the roster-- and you."

    Chromedome sighed. "I already told you. I'm not signing up for it, nor is Rewind."

    Prowl raised an optic ridge. "Why not? I would think this would be an ideal opportunity for you two to continue your quest."

    "I doubt Prime will be making stops for things like that," Chromedome said quietly. "Besides, I'm sure the 'Cons will be sending their most fearsome after the Ark. I... I don't want to put Rewind in that kind of danger."

    Prowl smirked. "It's too bad. We could use someone with your skills."

    "You and Prime?"

    "The Secret Service." At this, Prowl lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "We are a covert group of Autobots tasked with doing things others aren't willing to. We're like the Wreckers, but better."

    Chromedome's visor narrowed. "I know where you're going with this. The answer's already no."

    "I beg you to reconsider. We could really use someone like you. The things we do-- it's right up your alley."

    "No." Chromedome got up from his seat. "I'm sorry, Prowl, but no. I made a promise to some one and I won't break it, even if Optimus Prime asked me to."

    Prowl said nothing until Chromedome was at the doorway. "It's funny."

    Chromedome stopped, gripping the doorway's frame. "What is?"

    "You and Rewind."

    He tightened his grip, bending the metal frame. "Fine, I'll bite. What's so 'funny' about that?"

    "I was just wondering if he has any inkling of your full story." As he said this, Prowl lifted up a datapad from his desk. Chromedome caught this action in his peripheral vision and spun around to face him. 

    "You wouldn't dare."

    "If you care for him as much as I think you do, I believe it would be for the--"

    Prowl never finished his sentence, for Chromedome was instantly on top of him, injecting his needle fingers into his former partner's neck. At his command, every bit of incriminating knowledge of him vanished from Prowl's mind, as well as the threat he had made.

    "You asked for this," he muttered.

    When the deed was done, Chromedome quickly got back up and bolted for the door. Once again, Prowl's voice stopped him.

    "So, promise me you'll think about it."

    Chromedome only stopped to give him one last glance.

    "Yeah. Cross my spark."

New Kaon (Cycle 8814)

    Fight and die.

    He winced from the pain, still reeling from his fight with Clench. He was aware that the Decepticons had ruthless fighters, but he had never known how ruthless they could be.

    Fight and die.

    Energon still leaked from his wound. He had been told a medic would be seeing him shortly, but having already met one of them, he dreaded the experience.

    Fight and die.

    "It always hurts the most when you're finished."

    Optronix craned his head to the other occupant of his cell. Due to the scarce light in the room, he could not make out much detail of the mech, other than that he was old and falling apart. His red optics were dim but still visible.

    "And you would be an expert on that?" Optronix replied bitterly.

    The mech chortled though it came out as more of a laugh. "I've fought in those arenas, kid. I know what they're like."

    Optronix simply grunted at that.

    A long bout of silence followed. His cellmate then said, "You're the one everyone's been talking about, aren't you? Trannis' apprentice."

    "It's not a title I relish," Optronix muttered.

    The old mech grunted. "Ah, but any Decepticon worth their metal would kill for it. And they would succeed."

    "Let them have it, then. I'd rather die than be one of you."

    "Is that what you want then? To go down as Optronix, the heir apparent Prime, who died as a coward?"

    Optronix gritted his teeth. "I'm not a coward."

    "Then prove it," his cellmate said darkly. "Go back out there and prove me wrong."

    Optronix opened his mouth to retort until he heard the sound of metal footsteps; Flatline was approaching. Having no time for an argument, he instead said, "Who are you?"

    "Terminus," was the reply. "I am your end point."

*  *  *

    Clench stood before him once again, weapons brandished and exhaust puffing from his grill-shaped mouth. Optronix was considerably less well-armed than him, having only a battle mace and a crudely-made shield for defense. But his new-found determination from his talk with Terminus was sure to accommodate that.

    "Ready to die, Autobot?" Clench baited him.

    Optronix did not respond. Even at the Autobot Academy, he had been told to avoid making taunts and witty quips. It rarely did anyone good.

    "No last words, eh? Fine by me." Clench charged with a battle cry as he fired the gun built into his right arm. Optronix raised his shield to deflect the shots, though the shield was immediately reduced to scraps. Left with only his mace, Optronix lunged towards his opponent.

    No sooner had he swung his mace was he sent sprawling across the arena, much to the excitement of the crowd. Their jeers did nothing to damage his resolve, however. Instead, he picked himself up, gripping his weapon tighter, and charged again.

*  *  *

    "Fight and die. Fight and die."

    "Found your mantra, have you?" Terminus said dryly.

    Optronix ignored him as he completed his two-hundredth pushup. He then began converting to and from his alternate mode, still repeating the phrase.

    "You're adapting rather well to the Decepticon lifestyle," Terminus went on. "At first I thought your parts would be decorating the arena in no time, but seeing as you have taken down Clench and Scorponok so far-- two of Trannis' strongest warriors-- I seem to have been proven wrong."

    Optronix said nothing until he had finished his transform-ups. Then, returning to his feet, he looked at his frail cellmate. "Who is the most strongest warrior in the arena?"

    "That title is currently held by Overlord," Terminus said, bitterness lacing his voice. "A title he took from me. Dozens have fallen to him and nearly everyone fears him-- even Trannis is wary of him."

    Optronix smirked. "All the more reason for me to defeat him."

*  *  *

    "You have to admit, he is skilled."

    "They are watching you."

*  *  *

    Trannis kept his eyes glued to the multiple monitors before him, each one connected to the optical sensors of Soundwave, his minions, and Zardak's assassins. Optronix appeared in nearly each and every one of them as the spied followed him through the Decepticon fortress as he headed back for his cell, having just completed another match.

    At first, Optronix did not seem to notice any of the mechs following him. Suddenly, the former Autobot stopped in his tracks to look over his shoulder, making direct eye contact with the assassin known as Darklight.

    "Do you fear death?" Optronix asked quietly.

    Darklight said nothing as he slowly approached his target, unsheathing a sharp blade.

    "Allow me to rephrase the question, then." Suddenly, Optronix was upon the assassin, pinning him down with his knee while wrapping a hand around Darklight's neck. "Do you fear me?"

    Before Darklight could muster any sort of reaction, the viewscreen connected to him dissolved into static. Trannis then watched, impassive as ever, as the other spies fell to Optronix's wrath. Maul, Umbra, Raze-- all of Zardak's warriors went offline one by one. Soon, only Soundwave and his minions remained, and it wasn't long before the spy was at Optronix's mercy as well.

    Looking straight into Soundwave's visor, Optronix growled, "I know you can hear me, Trannis. I want you to know something; if I wanted to take the Decepticon throne from you, we would not be playing this little game. Oh, there may be a time when I will seek to usurp you, but right now, I have no such desire to be a true Decepticon, nor a true Autobot."

    Trannis sneered. "What are you then?" he asked, conveying his query through Soundwave.

    Optronix flashed a savage grin. "I am the nightmare you created. I am the beast under your leash. I am he who has fallen."

    "Do you expect me to be scared, Optronix?"

    "No, Trannis. I just want you to watch your back."

    And with that, the last monitor went out.

*  *  *

    "Impressive display," Terminus said once Optronix had recounted everything to him. "A little much on the acting, but impressive nonetheless."

    Optronix smirked. "I'll admit that boasting is not my strongest suit, but that's simply another thing to learn about being a Decepticon."

    Terminus nodded silently before saying, "You know, you remind of a legend. The tale of the Fallen."

    "I have heard of it," Optronix murmured.

    "It's not an exact match, I know, but you have without question fallen from grace. You are no longer the heroic warrior you once were."

    "True. I have considered the similarities of our stories... which is part of the reason why I have decided to take on a new name."

    "Is that so?" Terminus said. "And what shall you be known from now on?"

    "Megatron." The fallen Autobot turned to his mentor with a menacing glare, gripping his mace. "And I am your end point."