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PART 141

The Ark

Enemy inched his faceplate as near to his cell’s energy bars as he could.
“Psst, Breakdown!” he hissed. “I just received a pulse from Soundwave. He says that he’s figured out a way for us to escape… and you’re the key!”
Breakdown rose from his bench stooped and nervous.
“M-me…? H-how can I help?”
“Transform. Then rev your engine as hard as you can.”
Breakdown’s parts began to shift, engine roaring as his last part slid into place. Enemy felt the vibrations under his feet and inside his chest cavity. Reflector, in the cell nearest to the Stunticon, felt something inside him shake loose and rattle around inside his torso. Their cell’s energy bars blinked until the projectors imbedded in the ceiling stopped emitting the burning beams that incarcerated them. The barriers were down now, and incredibly, no alarms had been tripped.
“So much for Autobot security!” crowed Breakdown.
The prisoners charged out of their respective cells as one on foot or four wheels, then gathered in a loose circle in the middle of the cell block. Breakdown knew he couldn’t pull the same trick with the detention center’s steel door. Causing a sliding slab’s locking mechanism to malfunction—and more importantly, to release—would require a more intense vibration than he was capable of producing.
The Stunticon reverted back to robot form inquiring as to what their next move would be. Certainly someone had to have plans beyond this point.
The answer came in the form of knuckles, knees, heels, and elbows as they beat him unmercifully until he lay on the floor offline.
Enemy flexed his hands, checking for dents. Then he flipped up his secret, secondary communicator in his forearm and spoke into it over the soft buzz of Breakdown’s short circuiting body.
“We put him into stasis just like you told us to do, Soundwave. Now send me the access codes so we can bust outta this joint!”
No answer.
“Ah, Soundwave…? Are you there, Soundwave? Soundwave! Answer me, you dirty double-crossing piece of scrap! We did what you asked, now YOU keep YOUR half of the bargain! DO YOU HEAR ME?”
Suddenly the steel slab shot up toward the ceiling. For the most fleeting of moments, Enemy thought that the spymaster had made good on his promise and transmitted the codes to their freedom over the airwaves—automatically activating the door.
Until he saw who was standing in the doorway.
“WE hear you.” Blaster said, with a finger on the trigger and another on the eject button.

The Nemesis

The protective aura around Optimus Prime dissipated. The imprisoned Autobot leader stood up, surprised.
His captors were anything but.
Rumble swung his fist into the palm of his hand. “Looks like they did it, Soundwave! This is the moment we’ve been waitin’ for!”
“Rumble. Bring Megatron,” ordered Soundwave.
The door whisked open and Rumble sprinted out. Optimus Prime drew the sword that he had been unable to wield while his mysterious aura clung so closely to his armor. He was inexperienced in it’s use, but it was the only viable weapon available to him. Deploying his axe would reduce his dwindling fuel reserves to dangerous levels, and Optimus wanted to conserve all his Energon for the fight ahead.
The hand that held the blade trembled violently. At first Optimus thought it was some sort of glitch. After all, he had suffered quite a bit of damage during his battles with the Stunticons and Insecticons before Megatron’s arrival. He believed it to be an old injury playing up—until he saw a ball of light rise from the tip of his sword.
Vertical lines rolled across Soundwave’s visor. The Decepticon was recording the phenomenon. He wasn’t struck with awe, as was his high-profile prisoner, but rather intrigued. The orb continued to elevate slowly until it was shoulder height with Optimus Prime. Then it expanded briefly, and Soundwave recognized a familiar faceplate and hood-belly in it’s scattered light pattern. It belonged to the Autobot known as Trailbreaker.
Optimus Prime raised his hand to try and touch it.
“Trailbreaker… I’m sorry,” he began. “I’ve failed you—“
“No time for apologies, Prime. I fought for ya, died for ya, and then continued to fight on afterward. Listen, those Stunti-creeps shields were based on my old force field projector. While I was trapped in Motormaster’s sword, I was able to use the power of the Matrix to sync up with their tech and provide you with some protection. Now that the force field’s gone there’s nothing ta stop my Spark from movin’ on. It was a pleasure to serve you, Prime.”
“And I, you, Trailbreaker.”
“Oh, before I go… here’s a partin’ gift from your predecessors.”
The Matrix of Leadership flared brightly inside Optimus Prime’s chest until his entire body was enveloped in a cocoon of white light. When the light dimmed to the point where it was no longer visible, Soundwave noted that Optimus Prime appeared as if he had just rolled off the assembly line. All of his injuries had been instantly repaired. He seemed reinvigorated… reenergized. Soundwave’s olfactory sensors even indicated that he smelled new.
“Bring it on, Decepticons.” growled Optimus Prime. “I’m ready.”

(to be continued)

PART 142

HOT SPOT

Nighttime. We’re on a beach, speeding towards the shoreline. There’s six of us disguised as emergency Earth vehicles. We’re gonna bring Optimus Prime back home. Functional. Any mech standing in opposition to our goal is going to get totaled.

Blades hovers above, illuminating an obstacle course littered with dead Seekers. Rook, First Aid, Groove, Streetwise, and myself swerve around their corpses… Air Warriors turned into guinea pigatrons. Unwitting test subjects for a poison developed by Shockwave. Pawns. They shut down after a victory against a unit led by Prowl… their foul Sparks extinguished by the Energon flowing through their own fuel lines. Then they were forgotten… junked.

They’ll make excellent cover if we get fired upon.

The Nemesis’ tower rises as we reach the shore. The water ceases to cascade from the top of this ugly, foreboding structure the moment it reaches it’s full height. When it creaks open, Decepticon jets shoot out in every direction.

“Hunker down!” I shout. “Stay in alt! Wait for the lull!”

Bullets rain down on dead metal, perforating rusted armor plates. First Aid’s side window shatters. A cluster bomb explodes nearby, shaking me to the chassis. A missile blows away some of my cover. More bullets. Someone stifles a scream. Streetwise loses half his light bar. Rook grunts in pain. I hear the sound of Energon spilling out onto the sand behind me. Somebody’s hit bad. I want to give the order to transform, but I have to stick to the plan. If I don’t, the others surely won’t.

The lull comes a second later. Twin explosions light up the night sky. Blades’ smart rockets score double hits. Two Seekers begin their fiery descent from above. Their brethren converge on Blades. We transform. Blades takes evasive action. We rush into the water. I can’t stand this stuff. I select a target between big clumsy splashes. The fireball sizzles through the air… a slow blazing projectile. The Seeker barrel rolls away from the heat, then puts me in his sights. I dive, disappearing beneath the waves. We all do. The ‘Cons bullets can’t find us. Their beams fizzle out in this new, wet alien environment.

We re-emerge in quick succession at different points around the tower. A quintet of grappling hooks squiggle upwards toward the tower’s ringed rooftop. Five “clinks” are heard. Five lines are pulled taut. The grappling reels deployed from our forearms spin. We’re yanked out of the water. The lighter ‘Bots start to ascend faster—Groove followed by Streetwise. We should reach the top in less than a minute. We don’t have a minute.

Blades takes a hit to the rear rotor and goes into a tailspin. He reverts back to robot-mode in mid-air, slamming solidly down onto the rooftop with both feet. The Seekers vector in, changing shape as they come for him. I can hear Blades firing photons above, fighting for his life… screaming, cursing. Hang on… help is on the way. Groove’s almost there. He’ll be the first to respond. I’m weighed down with Combiner tech, I’ll be the last.

A Seeker slams into Groove just as he reaches the top. Ramjet…!? Can’t be. Intel says he’s in Carbomya—plus the colors are all wrong. Black, teal, and purple. Another Decepti-creep opens fire on Groove as he falls. He hits the water in pieces—a leg, an arm… bits of metal. I’m vibrating… I’m mad. Gotta keep a level head.

Seconds pass. No one else meets their maker. They all go over the top. Streetwise, First Aid, then Rook… everybody’s in the mix now except for me. A ‘Con peeks over the edge. I fry his face before he can aim his arm-rifles. I see Seekers battling my ‘Bots when I reach the roof. Everyone looks like scrap. Blades can barely stand. More Decepticons descend and transform. It’s sheer pandemonium. I join the mob of Deception reinforcements running toward my team… crazy, I know—but I’ve got only one goal in mind. I take a blast to the back… I can feel the burn behind my chest plate. I stumble into Rook coughing up smoke.

“Protectobots—kaff—combine… into Defensor!”

(to be continued)

PART 143

In a rush of reconfiguring parts and interlocking connections, five Protectobots become one gigantic robot. The Decepticons scattered around Defensor’s feet recoil in fear. Those who had witnessed the destructive might of a Combiner before this night considered fleeing. Those who had not, deciphered the panic projected on the veteran Seeker’s faceplates like it was a pulse that read “we’re scrap.”
A trio of defiant Air Warriors took aim and fired up at this strange, new composite Autobot. The giant raised his foot, and neither their null rays or argon lasers slowed down it’s descent. The middle Seeker’s body exploded beneath a rectangle-shaped sole as his squad mates to the left and right transformed and took flight.
Another brave Spark target locked onto Defensor’s chest, launched his missiles, and rocketed towards the stars. In one swift move, Defensor swatted the warheads propelled at him with one hand, reached up, and caught the escaping Seeker with the other. Then he pulled the doomed Decepticon jet apart, raining shorting components dripping with pink Energon onto purple metal plates.
“YOU DUMB DECEPTI-CREEPS DON’T HAVE BRAINS, BUT YOU DEFINITELY GOT GUTS,” grinned Defensor. “LOOK! THEY’RE ALL OVER THE FLOOR!”
With a burst of synthesized sound, Skywarp teleported onto the scene in jet form. He fired heat-seeking missiles at the Autobot behemoth as he flew by. Defensor’s force dome spread out above his head a millisecond before impact, detonating the projectiles before traveling downward to the deck plates. Then the Combiner began to walk, and his invisible shield moved with him, pushing his enemies fifty feet forward with every step. When he reached the center of the docking tower’s roof, he knelt and proceeded to bash it in with the butt of his fireball cannon.
Decepticon jets crisscrossed the force dome furiously, firing bullets, dropping bombs, and launching various types of missiles. Defensor ignored the bombardment and continued breaking into their ship through what Perceptor said would be a viable access point.
In the midst of the Seekers’ most intense barrage yet, Thundercracker unleashes a deafening sonic boom, weakening Defensor’s energy field for the briefest of moments. The Combiner’s force dome blurs, allowing high caliber bullets to penetrate it’s shielding. After the intrusion, the force field sprang back up to full strength immediately, but the super warrior within it seized—unsure whether to finish demolishing the docking tower’s roof, or swat the stinging flies pestering him.
Skywarp appeared out of thin air again, this time in robot-form right in Thundercracker’s flight path.
“Do it again, Thundercracker!” he shouted, with clenched fists. “He felt that one!”
Thundercracker dove and then accelerated directly over the Combiner, shattering his protective dome with pure sound. The sonic strike also yielded an expected result—Defensor began to sink under the Seekers’ blistering barrage. Even with using Blades’ spinning rotor as a shield, the giant began to wilt under the intense artillery hailstorm.
Then suddenly, he was gone.
Skywarp hovers over the shaft that swallowed a whole Combiner, hoping to see the behemoth separated into a heap of damaged Protectobots at the bottom. Instead, what he saw was an instrument of destruction reactivate and resume it’s rampage… this time inside the Nemesis.
“Ooo Megatron’s not gonna like this.”

(to be continued)

PART 144

Three Decepticon jets scream toward Defensor. The bullets that riddle his armor contain a highly flammable material that ignites on impact. With his chest plate pock-marked with searing, chemically induced flames, Defensor levels his weapon and fights fire with fire. The gigantic blue fireball that rolls out of the Combiner’s cannon is impossible to evade in the Nemesis’ tight quarters. His enemies are incinerated mid-flight, the wall at the end of the passage is blown into molten splatters.
Defensor spies a figure charging through what’s left of it’s charred and glowing framework.
“Decepticon engineering,” sneers Megatron, bursting out into the open. “Our designs are all over you… who are you?”
“I’M WITH SANITATION!” the Combiner quips. “I’VE COME TO TAKE OUT THE TRASH!”
Megatron smirks, there is no fear on his faceplate, just a sinister gleam in his eye. The tickle of a light beam upon his back distracts Defensor. Shockwave is behind him, gun-arm extended, scanning with his singular optic.
A blast from Megatron’s fusion cannon opens a chasm in the Combiner’s chest. Shockwave’s steady X-ray beam pierces his flank with a surgeon’s precision, seeking to disable vital systems.
“Crossfire,” Defensor computes through the pain. “Must destroy targets… simultaneously!”
His right index finger squeezes the trigger of his weapon, his left hand launches from his wrist. Megatron drops to one knee and deploys the Energon shield from his forearm. Blue flames turn the area around the despot into red hot slag. The fist Defensor let fly wedges in a doorway behind him, collapsing it. A living boulder blocking Shockwave’s access to the battle.
“IT’S JUST YOU AND ME NOW, MEGATRON!”
Defensor fires again. Megatron leaps spread eagle out of it’s path, hits the floor rolling, and takes refuge behind a tall slab of melted steel.
The Decepticon leader winces in pain, half his foot is gone—liquified when he foolishly chose to deflect Defensor’s flame blast rather than evade it. The armor on the right side of his body is still hot and smoldering. Megatron’s bravado—born in the pits of Kaon—has backfired. He touches two fingers to a triangle on the upper part of his chest plate.
“Shockwave,” he rasps into the comlink, “where is this infernal creature’s weak spot?”
“Target the head,” radioed Shockwave. “This Autobot Gestalt is modeled after Menasor, but it possesses a fatal flaw. Much of it’s durability has been sacrificed for increased speed and intelligence.”
Emboldened, Megatron stood up and fired a blast from his fusion cannon. Defensor blocked it with his forearm and then tore after the tyrant. Megatron turned and ran. His heavy footsteps were drowned out by the Combiner’s thudding footfalls. Even hobbled, the ex-gladiator sprinted through doorways and passageways with the speed of a Transformer half his size. Defensor burst through walls like an out of control lob-ball, leaving a trail of destruction—and the occasional trampled Decepticon warrior—in his wake.
More than once, the Combiner had lost his quarry, only to catch sight of him seconds later when he smashed into yet another leaking section of the Nemesis. It was obvious to him now that the feared Decepticon leader would rather flee than fight.
“Ignore Megatron. Rescue Prime,” protests a voice within his shared consciousness.
“OVERRIDE THAT COMMAND,” Defensor says aloud. “MEGATRON’S OUT OF PLACES TO RUN!”
Defensor demolishes the last wall by plunging the fingers on his right hand into it, ripping it open, and rending it down the middle with his stump. A continuous arc of electricity from a broken power cable illuminates the dark chamber that he barges into. A lone Seeker stands in the center of that room, pointing a pistol up at him.
“WHERE IS THAT COWARD MEGATRON?” demands Defensor. “TELL ME, LITTLE DECEPTICON, AND I WON’T TEAR YOU INTO MORE THAN TWO PIECES!”
“He’s right here, dummy!” laughs Skywarp, as he pulls the trigger.
A focused beam of energy pierces the area between Defensor’s optics, setting his cerebral circuits ablaze.
Then his field of vision shrinks down to a tiny dot.

<Offline>

(to be continued)

PART 145

The Protectobots awaken scattered across the chamber, stuck midway between being Combiner components and robots. The gun that caused Defensor to separate flips out of Skywarp’s hand. The steel floor shakes as the rapidly changing weapon lands in it’s true form. Megatron stands proudly… chest out, knuckles connected to his hip plates, victorious over the sensor-scrambled would-be hit squad writhing before him.
“An admirable effort, Autobots… you nearly destroyed me. I did not expect your current leader to sanction such a bold attack. I’ll be sure to show my appreciation by moving Jazz to the top of my termination list… after Optimus Prime, of course.”
Megatron grabbed Rook by the throat and held him aloft with his left hand. The mode locked Protectobot wriggled helplessly in the grinning Decepticon leader’s grasp. His arms were locked into his torso, his legs joined together into a massive misaligned rectangular block. Megatron drew back his cannon and angled it up at Rook’s faceplate, forcing him to stare into the energy swirling at the center of it’s barrel.
“Now that you all have my undivided attention,” continued Megatron. “I wonder… what will you do with the audience you’ve earned? Beg for your miserable lives…? It won’t help you, but I would like to hear your whimpering modulations nonetheless.”
Rook shook his head “no.”
“What a shame,” smiled Megatron. “Very well then, let’s get started.”
Silence fell upon the room like a heavy shroud. All movement stopped. If the Protectobots were human, this would be the instant that they held their collective breaths. Smiling with glee, Skywarp sidestepped toward the bot-sized limb that was Streetwise and aimed an arm-rifle at his head. Skywarp planned to wait until Megatron had performed his second execution—after that, the sadist figured his superior wouldn’t mind him joining in on the festivities.
Suddenly the comm light on Megatron’s chest plate began to blink.
“Oh, what is it Shockwave?!”
“Optimus Prime has escaped confinement. I am moving toward his last known position with a contingent of Seekers as we speak.”
Hot Spot, transfixed in torso mode, looked on. He fully expected Shockwave’s message to fill Megatron with a sense of fear or urgency. Instead he noted that the murderous Decepticon’s mood seemed to brighten upon hearing the news.
Megatron relinquished Rook to the floor with a heavy thud. Then he backflipped into gun-mode, landing in the palm of Skywarp’s outstretched hand.
“Take me to Optimus!” he commanded.
“Later, losers!” jeered Skywarp, as he changed into a jet. The fact that the Seeker flew from the chamber instead of teleporting to his destination told Hot Spot that the Decepticons didn’t know his leader’s exact location.
This meant that there was still time.
“C’mon, team! Snap out of it! We gotta trash these Decepti-creeps before they can get to Prime!”
“Love to, Hot Spot,” yelled Blades. “But we’re busted! We can’t transform!”
“NNNG!” Streetwise grunted, through gritted teeth. “I can feel you guys—MMMF—straining your parts!”
“We’re still connected,” said First Aid. “Even though we’ve been split apart.”
“H-how… do we f-fix that?” stammered Rook, visibly shaken by his brush with death.
“Working on it my friends,” replied First Aid. “It seems that our sudden separation caused a glitch in our Transformation Cogs. Everything’s still filed as “Defensor’s arm”, “Defensor’s leg”, excetera. I’m going to try a remote T-Cog reboot. Hold still.”
Hot Spot looked uncomfortable as his parts shunted into his primary configuration. Seconds later, Rook, Streetwise, and Blades were forced into their robot modes as well.
“Well, that felt weird,” said Streetwise, rising shakily from the floor.
“Good work, First Aid. But what about you?” questioned Hot Spot. “You’re still in limb mode.”
First Aid transformed from an arm into a battered ambulance. Then he activated his roof lights.
“I was making certain that our alt-modes were accessible. We’re going to need them.”
“Right! Protectobots transform,” commanded Hot Spot. “And roll for Prime!”

(to be continued)

PART 146

Soundwave fled when Optimus Prime began hacking his way to freedom using Motormaster’s sword, so no one knew for certain where the Autobot leader was. The Decepticons knew only that Prime was still somewhere on their vessel, and that he must be recaptured or killed before he could do the latter to them.
Thundercracker, with a squad of six identical Air Warriors in tow, clanked past the Nemesis’ noisy engine room, rounded a corner, and collided head-on with their quarry. The speeding red truck sent the Seeker hurtling down the hallway. With Optimus Prime’s own momentum halted by the impact, the Air Warriors swarmed him before Thundercracker’s body ceased sliding across the floor.
Close-quarters combat would quickly come to favor the mighty matrix bearer’s complement of weapons. A sweep of his sword while in mid change eviscerated one assailant; ignition of his Energon-axe upon full configuration resulted in the formation of the weapon inside the cranium of a second. As the two halves of the smited Seeker’s head fell away, Optimus Prime uprooted the energy construct from the corpse’s spinal column and planted it in the shoulder of a third opponent, severing the tail end of his arm-rifle. The Air Warrior raised his good arm to fire, but Optimus lunged forward, destroying him with a sword thrust so forceful that the eruption of the blade from his back caused a cascade of crackling components.
Thundercracker had seen enough. “Get back…! Gimme a clear shot!”
Using the impaled Decepticon as a shield, Optimus Prime spun in the direction of the command. The hapless Seeker screamed as his limbs and wingtips were turned into six streams of molten metal by his squad leader’s flame blast.
Thundercracker froze… mouth agape, arm mounted rifles still extended—shocked by what he had done. Decepticons like Starscream and Shockwave were capable of inflicting harm upon their own kind without compunction, but not him. Thundercracker immediately relegated himself back to the position of observer—hoping that the others had what it took to bring down a Prime. If they didn’t, well… that’s when he might consider stepping in.
Maybe.

(to be continued)

PART 147

Blades struggled to keep pace with the Protectobot convoy in his damaged state. His tail rotor rotated intermittently, hampering control as smoke spewed from his sputtering engine. The wind gust generated by a jet streaking by at Mach 1 sent him scraping against the tunnel wall, ruining his rotor blades in big bursts of sparks. The Seeker dubbed G2 Ramjet by his fellow Decepticons shot over the speeding Protectobots as if they were parked cars.
“If it flies, crash it!” is the real Ramjet’s motto, and if this reprogrammed robot were him, Blades’ body would be a crumpled mess rolling over the roofs of the rest of the Combiner team.
Upon G2’s bizarre introduction, Shockwave touted that this new version of a Seeker mainstay possessed all the daring and durability of the original, minus his addiction to airborne collisions. So when Thundercracker witnessed G2 Ramjet plow into Optimus Prime and his fellow Seekers—leveling the lot of them—he saw it as a deliberate act.
“Anything for glory,” sighed Thundercracker, rolling his optics.
The clone reverts back to robot mode propped up by the indented durabyllium door that halted his aerial assault. Thundercracker cautiously approaches the still form of Optimus Prime, crunching scattered circuit boards underfoot. The Autobot leader lay face down, surrounded by flames and broken bodies.
Thundercracker placed the blazing hot barrel of his arm-rifle to the back of Optimus’ head. G2 Ramjet smirks, anticipating the execution of a Prime.
The kill shot doesn’t come. An unsettling thought invaded Thundercracker’s neural net before it could send the electrical impulse to trigger his weapon. Yes, he would be rewarded for killing Optimus Prime, but what would be his fate afterward? Megatron may grow to resent him for stealing his moment to shine… a moment he waited a million years to come to pass. Thundercracker: hero of the Great War, is how he would be known to the masses moving forward—much to Megatron’s chagrin. One solar-cycle the Decepticon leader might just decide to quietly dispose of him out of envy. Some rattletrap robot eager to rise up the ranks would have no problem doing the deed.
“Nuts to that.”
“Huh, Thundercracker?” inquired Ramjet 2.0. “What did you say?”
“I said, you do the honors.”
Thundercracker changed form, leaving the Conehead to watch as his thrusters whined away into the ship’s bowels. G2 stood up, shook off the ringing in his audio receptors, and then aimed an arm-mounted missile at Optimus Prime. The sound of shifting parts and squealing tires proceeded the lethargic Seeker being struck by his target in alt-form. Optimus Prime swiftly returned to robot mode and the two Transformers wrestled, straining their servos as each attempted to overpower the other with brute physical strength. Optimus head butted Ramjet and it felt as if his forehead had slammed into the hull of a spaceship.
“I didn’t even feel that,” the clone grinned through gritted teeth. “That the best you can do, Prime?”
A heavy knee buckled the Seeker’s midsection like a battering ram, bowling him over. A hefty down thrust elbow hammered him to one knee.
“No,” answered Optimus, retracting a fist. “This is.”
The Energon axe that flashed from his wrist flayed G2 Ramjet open from cockpit to cone. Fuel spurted from his chest as he began to topple over. Four Protectobots rolled up as the dispatched Decepticon’s parted face met the floor.
First Aid was the first to transform, rushing to render aid.
“Are you alright, Prime?”
Optimus rubbed the circular scorch mark on the back of his cranial casing.
“I’m fine now,” he replied. “Thundercracker was about to terminate me… I felt the heat of his weapon on the back of my head.”
“And he didn’t shoot…?” asked Hot Spot incredulously.
“No,” answered Optimus Prime. “It’s curious… something prevented him. Perhaps we’ll never know what it was.”

(to be continued)

PART 148

Blades limped into an area full of wrecked Seekers and antsy Protectobots.
“Looks like I missed all the fun.”
“Nahh,” replied Streetwise, loading his photon pistol. “The party’s winding down, but the night’s not over.”
“We have to keep moving, Protectobots.” warned Optimus Prime. “We don’t know how many Decepticons are converging on our position.”
“According to Perceptor, there’s a hangar bay on this level.” Rook said. “The shuttle in there is nowhere near spaceworthy, but it can fly us back to the Ark.”
“That’s good,” grumbled Blades. “Because I can’t even fly MYSELF back to the Ark.””
“Then transform,” Hot Spot ordered, turning back into a fire truck. “And let me transport you to the shuttle.”
Streetwise watched as Blades changed into a rotor-less helicopter.
“Yeah, looks like our air supports been officially grounded.” he wisecracked.
First Aid jabbed him with an elbow for the insensitive remark.
“A mechanical being in need of repair is no laughing matter!” he hissed.
“Now Rook, Streetwise… hoist Blades on top of me,” directed Hot Spot.
The two Protectobots each took a side, squatted, and grabbed Blades’ skids. When Streetwise lifted his side up, his forehead separated. Blades crashed to the floor lopsided—his door splattered with Streetwise’s mech fluids. Optic sensors traced the shot’s trajectory to the Seeker holding the smoking gun. A tenth of a second later, the killer was gone.
First Aid jerked towards Streetwise’s body, stopping short when he realized it was just that—a body. Hot Spot and Blades reassumed their robot forms, weapons ready.
“Slaggin’ Skywarp!” cursed Blades.
“Megatron was with him!” alerted Optimus Prime.
“But why ace Streetwise?” Rook inquired. From a tactical standpoint, it didn’t make sense. Commanders are always the primary target.
“Megatron wants me to watch as he picks you off one by one,” answered Optimus. “Apparently he’s saving me for last.”
Blades whirled to the sound of Skywarp appearing behind him and was shot point-blank in the face. Blades seized, then toppled over like a statue, landing stiff and heavy on his back. Once again Skywarp teleported away, leaving guns pointing at the empty space above another slain Protectobot.
Optimus Prime and Hot Spot attacked a triangular door with axes. Rook and First Aid looked over their shoulders nervously, and then at each other. Skywarp would choose one of them next and they both knew it. Hot Spot spun around as he and Prime were almost through and flung his axe away unexpectedly. It whizzed past First Aid, striking sparks off Skywarp’s shoulder pylon as he reappeared. With a yelp of surprise, the teleporting assassin vanished without a victim.
“Figured he’d pick you,” Hot Spot said.
“Move, Protectobots!” commanded Optimus Prime.
Rook and First Aid roared through the jagged exit in their vehicular forms. Hot Spot—knowing his leader would insist on going last—shoved Optimus in after them and transformed. Rook—with his extensive experience in evacuating wounded Autobots out of war zones—maintained the lead, speeding down the middle of the two-lane passage.
Laserbeak jinked in from the hangar bay ahead, scoring Rook’s armor with beams that left twin burn trails along the length of his alt-form. Rook’s roof-mounted claw swung in Laserbeak’s direction, clamping down on the avian Decepticon like alloygator jaws as he shot by. The impact from the capture reversed Rook’s momentum and momentarily stunned his captive.
“Halt!” commanded Optimus Prime.
The convoy came to a screeching stop. Rook sprang from alt-mode with the others, still holding Laserbeak in the grip of his hydraulic clamp-gun.
“They’re here,” informed Optimus Prime. “All of them.”
“What do we do, Prime?” Rook inquired.
“We protect Optimus with our lives, that’s what.” interjected Hot Spot. “Either he gets out or no one gets out. That’s the mission.”
The Autobot leader nabbed Laserbeak from Rook’s gun by the neck.
“No, my Protectobots…,” he said. “I’ve watched enough of you perish for me.”
With that stated, he turned and addressed the shadows lurking in the hangar bay.
“It’s me you want, Megatron. Let my soldiers go and I will release your scout.”
Megatron’s cannon arm led the rest of his body into view.
“Laserbeak… will be missed,” he replied.
Astrotrain, Skywarp, Soundwave, Rumble, and several Air Warriors stepped into the light. Shockwave hovered over the massive firing squad in gun mode.
Laserbeak locked eyes with Soundwave, cawing for mercy he knew in his Spark would not be granted. Soundwave stared back, emotionless.
Megatron gave the order. “Fire!”
Optimus Prime threw Laserbeak at Shockwave just as gamma energy ballooned out of his barrel and burst into a tight beam. Laserbeak’s body exploded when it came into contact with the beam, dropping nearly every Decepticon in close proximity. The disoriented warriors that remained standing were downed quickly with fireballs and photon bursts.
Pain electrified First Aid’s leg. “Gunshot?” he thought, glancing down. “Did I get hit…? No.” Laserbeak’s beak was imbedded in his thigh. A minor injury. Frankly, the fact that he had just shot two damaged Decepticons discomforted him more.
“The shuttle!” screamed Hot Spot. “Go! Go! Go!”
The Autobots stampeded over short circuiting bodies as they ran, trading shots with the few Decepticons still functional enough to raise a weapon. Optimus Prime looked back as he boarded the shuttle. Megatron rose from a tangle of shrapnel covered Seekers. Several more enemies recovered from systems shutdown and sprang to life.
Optimus Prime deployed his Energon axe.
The sorrowful look on Hot Spot’s face said it all. “Think of the ‘Bots who lost their lives to save you. Don’t throw away their sacrifices.”
Optimus Prime nodded, then entered with Hot Spot. The door whisked down behind them.
Megatron watched the thrusters on the stolen Decepticon shuttle ignite. The craft rocketed up the ramp, blasted a hole in the ship’s hull, and then continued on into the ocean’s depths. A flood of water came rushing down to the lower levels; steel barriers slammed shut to stop the tidal wave.
Megatron’s ship was sealed tight. However, his hated enemy had slipped through the cracks.
Shockwave’s eye turned on. He arose, armless and aimless, with his memory banks fragmented.
“Megatron… w-what happened…?”
Shockwave’s inquiry was answered with a fist to his flashing yellow optic, followed by the sound of sheer frustration.
“RRAAAGHHH!”

(to be continued)

PART 149

Perceptor stood outside the Ark with Optimus Prime’s Ion rifle in his outstretched hands.
“Welcome back, sir.”
“It’s good to be back. Thank you, Perceptor.” the Autobot leader said, upon collecting his weapon. “I shall put this to good use shortly.”
“I anticipate that you will. Blaster is waiting to brief you in the staging area.”
Perceptor’s gaze returned to the shuttle Optimus Prime arrived in as he entered the Ark. Three Protectobots exited the craft. That was it. No comrades being carried out. No circuit slabs with damaged ‘Bots being wheeled down the ramp. Just three… where before there were six.
Perceptor’s smile faded.
“Apparently my modifications were inadequate,” he confessed to the tattered remains of the team. “My apologies… and my condolences.”
Hot Spot placed a hand on Perceptor’s shoulder.
“We were in pursuit of Megatron as Defensor. First Aid wanted us to break off the chase and rescue Prime. The others weren’t in agreement. I stayed silent. My inaction allowed more… aggressive personalities to sway our actions.”
Rook dropped his head, even though he owned only a fraction of the blame. He had a chance to literally grind Megatron under his heel. Who would pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity like that? First Aid, that’s who. Rook felt the shame of his inadequacy flow through him like an infusion of fresh Energon.
“Defensor lost focus,” Hot Spot continued, “and Megatron took us down with a single shot to the head. It’s not your fault that half my team died, Perceptor… It’s mine.”



“Well, awlright!” Blaster shouted, upon seeing Optimus walk in. “It’s Prime time! Gimme a second Prime, we’ve got Autobot teams in two cities. I’ll get the commanders linked in.”
The communications officer’s fingers blurred over Teletraan-1’s console. A door at the other end of the chamber shot up and Sideswipe stormed in.
“I lost track of my brother in Los Angeles, Prime. But now I’m refueled and ready to resume the hunt.”
“Pump your brakes, Sideswipe. I want you to accompany me to Carbomya. We have more pressing concerns there.”
“Glad to be of service,” Sideswipe replied. “When do we roll, er, I mean fly?”
“As soon as we find out what we’re flying into. Ready, Blaster?”
Blaster started the countdown. “3,2,1 and we are live with Jazz and Smokescreen!”
Two sound waves appeared on the screen. The bottom one—Smokescreen—spoke first.
“Prime, a crack commando unit has got us holed up inside Omega Supreme. We managed to nab half the Space Bridge before they took out half the team. Luckily they can’t get in, but we can’t get out. Should I tell Omega to leave with the sections we have?”
“Negative, we can’t risk the Decepticons refabricating the other half of that Bridge. Jazz, are you able to provide Smokescreen with reinforcements?”
“Workin’ on it, Prime! Ratchet and Wheeljack are reprogrammin’ some ah, aerial-bots to fly over an’ bail ‘em out.”
“Aerialbots…? Jazz, what is the status of the unit you deployed with?”
“One M.I.A, Powerglide’s out searchin’ for ‘im now. We took the structure where Swindle’s storin’ his WMDs… only thing is, Swindle has us trapped in here on top of ‘em surrounded by an angry mob.”
“Smokescreen, Jazz… hold your positions. I shall be arriving within the hour.”
Optimus Prime turned away from the monitor with Sideswipe in tow, delegating assignments as he departed.
“Blaster, maintain communications here. First Aid, Perceptor… repair Hot Spot and Rook, then prep the medical bay for incoming patients. Today Autobots, our mettle will be tested as never before. I pray that we are all up to the task.”

(to be continued)

PART 150

Devcon rarely smiled. But this solar cycle, as he sat in front of a monitor in his apartment on Monacus, his cheeks made his optic sensors narrow until they were bright blue slits.
“Smokescreen, old friend! I’m sorry I missed your previous attempts to contact me. I was at the center of the universe, collecting a substantial bounty on a creature named Primacron. I hope all is well and that you find yourself in good working order?”
“Ask me again tomorrow,” grinned Smokescreen. “I have a lead on that Decepticon arms dealer you’ve been chasing all over the galaxy.”
“Swindle…?”
“Yeah, he’s here… on Earth—a little planet located in the Milky Way’s outer spiral arm.”
“Wow. I can’t believe the Great War spread that far…”
“Believe it.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Be careful. Swindle is wanted by the planetary government of Paradron for stealing Combiner technology. If Swindle and whomever he’s hired get desperate enough, they may decide to use it on themselves.”



Jazz could hardly believe the words coming out of his communicator.
“You wanna run that by me again, Smokescreen? You say Swindle might’ve upgraded himself with Combiner tech?”
“Yes. I just heard it from a reliable source.”
“Swindle’s an arms dealer, man. Not an engineer.”
“It’s possible,” said Wheeljack.
He and Ratchet paused their work on the Aerialbots to share their knowledge with Jazz.
“Initial reports had Swindle allied with a Junkion named Detritus,” informed Wheeljack. “I don’t know how the Junkions do it, but those mechs make miracles happen. Creating a Combiner out of four soldiers of fortune and a munitions expert might be considered light work for one of ‘em.”
“Those same reports say Skyfire sent Detritus to the scrap heap,” argued Jazz.
“That would explain why these jet troopers we found weren’t finished,” deduced Ratchet. “Swindle’s mechanic was killed before he could complete his work.”
Wheeljack pointed to the largest aircraft in the hangar—a white, gold, and red XB-70 Valkyrie.
“The Aerialbots are a hodgepodge of Autobot and Decepticon hardware. Take that big ‘Bot there for example—his alt-mode used to be a slow moving, low-level hover barge. Detritus added in parts from some spacefaring ‘Con, now he’s a high-flying supersonic jet that can outrun anything on this planet.”
“Primus only knows where that deranged Junkion procured Sparks and brain modules,” vented Ratchet.
“Probably the same place where he dug up Megatron’s old Space Bridge,” Jazz surmised. “Trypticon prison.”



A driverless Jeep bounces over a sea of sand dunes toward a quartet of giant robots.
“It’s Swindle!” Vortex squealed with glee. “Now the fun can start!”
Swindle transformed. His brow was furrowed. He was anything but happy.
“News flash, you military morons! If we don’t get those Space Bridge sections back, I don’t get paid! Which means YOU don’t get paid!”
“I don’t care about the shanix!” Brawl bellowed. “I’m in this for revenge!”
“But we can have it all,” reasoned Blast Off. “There’s five of us now.”
“Yes,” agreed Onslaught. “I love it when a Combiner comes together. Combaticons… form Bruticus!”
Swindle and Brawl changed shape, becoming the lower legs of a titan. Onslaught turned into a torso and thighs that connected itself to those legs. Blast Off and Vortex’s parts shifted as they flew through the air, attaching themselves to the Gestalt as it’s right and left arms respectively. A winged shield unfolded from it’s chest, then a massive head with a face only it’s maker could love rose up from it’s neck cavity.
“UHRRRUUHHH! BRUTICUS… ANGRY! AUTOBOTS… STEAL FROM BRUTICUS! BRUTICUS DESTROY AUTOBOTS!”

(to be continued)

PART 151

THOOM
“Goodness!” exclaimed Hoist. “This rocket ship’s gone wonky!”
“Wonky my hook!” Grapple retorted. “All my structures are sound!”
“Something smacked us!” shouted Smokescreen.
THOOM
“ASSESSMENT: CORRECT,” Omega Supreme informed the trio within him. “COMBINER ATTACKING. STABILITY: COMPROMISED.”
BOOOOM
The last tremor slammed Smokescreen shoulder first into a wall. Next, he fell to the floor, door wing wobbling.
“Jazz, we’re under attack!” he yelled into his communicator. “The Decepti-goons… they’ve merged into one! Send help!”
Outside, Bruticus layed into Omega Supreme’s rocket module like a boxer hitting a punching bag. The craft buckled and shook with each blow, but refused to break. Bruticus looked at the rotor on his left arm and an idea leapt into his logic center—
Make it spin… then use it.
The blades began to whirl, and Vortex’ main rotor became Bruticus’ shoulder mounted saw blade. The Combiner bent his buzz saw arm at the elbow and leaned in, showering the sands around him with sparks and metal shavings.
The sound was deafening even by Cybertronian standards. If Omega Supreme expressed any audible signs of discomfort, it was lost in the din of his own demolition. Three quarters through, the upper half of his rocket module toppled to one side, held aloft by sparking connection cables. Bruticus kicked the lower portion over like it was a bucket full of toys, sending playset pieces and action figures flying.
The green robot that spilled out transformed into a tow truck. The orange one, a crane. The tow truck reversed, latched onto a Space Bridge section, then peeled away. The crane hoisted up a second piece, and then sped off in the opposite direction. Bruticus froze, not sure of which one to follow.
A third figure—a burgundy, blue, and white robot—lay dazed before him, smack dab in the middle of the two remaining Space Bridge sections.
“YOU!” Bruticus pointed. “BRUTICUS… CRUSH YOU!”
Bruticus reached down to grab him and a plume of black smoke rose up from the tail end of his target’s shifting parts.
“Gotcha!” taunted Smokescreen, as he raced away in alt-form.
The Combiner stood up, clawing at the soot cloud clinging to his face.
“UHRRRUUHHH… BRUTICUS CAN’T SEE! BRUTICUS MUST… SEPARATE!”
In the rear view mirrors of the fleeing Autobots, it looked as if the thrashing giant was falling apart… until they realized that those pieces were coming straight for them in a variety of vehicular modes!

(to be continued)

PART 152

Meanwhile, in Betah.

“I found it!” Beachcomber called out from behind a gray, black, and yellow F-16. The sensor in the geologist’s index finger tingled as he outlined the trap door leading to the heretofore hidden missile silo.
“Can ya get in?” inquired Jazz.
Beachcomber was already descending the ladder.
“Yeah,” he shouted vertically. “I’m inside the shaft. It’s deep!”
“What d’ya see down there?”
“Five photon missiles, stacked one on top of the other.”
“In launch position?”
“Ba ba buh da bu… primed for the end of paradise.”
“Hold tight!” hollered Jazz. “Imma get Wheeljack to—“
Suddenly Jazz’ comm lit up and a panicked voice filtered through it. “Jazz, we’re under attack! The Decepti-goons… they’ve merged into one! Send help!”
“Dang it! I’ll see what I can do,” replied Jazz. “Ratchet! Wheeljack! How soon ‘til the Aerialbots’ programmin’ is complete?”
“Programming…!?” sputtered Ratchet. “We haven’t even finished wiping their memory banks yet!”
“The data dump is at ninety-seven percent,” explained Wheeljack. “The reprogrammin’ is done in other parts of the brain… and that’s a little under fifty.”
“Screw it. Activate ‘em.” ordered Jazz.
Ratchet turned to Wheeljack.
Wheeljack simply shrugged. “He’s the boss,” he said.
“Jazz…” Ratchet pleaded. “As a doctor, I strongly advise you to—“
“Do these mechs know whose side they’re on?” interrupted Jazz.
“Well, yes… but—“
“Good. Can they form one big robot?”
“Yes.”
“Then they’re ready,” concluded Jazz. “Bring ‘em online.”
“We’ll do this in two stages,” explained Wheeljack, grasping one of two levers on an instrument panel. “Mind first. Then body.”
A torrent of energy traveled from a rusted block of Junkion-built machinery into each of the Aerialbot’s cockpits. The lights on their displays lit up, prompting Jazz to step forward and present himself before their awakening sensors.
“Hi, my name’s Jazz. I’m your mission leader. To my right is Doc Ratchet, to my left, Wheeljack. They’re the ‘Bots responsible for draggin’ you flyboys outta mothballs. In a moment Wheeljack’s gonna pull the lever that’ll enable you to bust a move. Once you transform, I want each of you to state your names and functions.”
Jazz cued Wheeljack to lower the second lever. The five jets shook violently when the second jolt of energy surged into their inert forms.
Then nothing.
Ratchet and Wheeljack searched each other’s faceplates for the answers neither of them possessed. Suddenly the sections on one aircraft, a black F-15 Eagle, separated and then reconfigured.
Jazz was taken aback at the Aerialbot’s appearance. The Cybertronian had worn the earthly disguise of a Seeker, so that’s what Jazz was expecting to see reflected in his robot form—not a standard sized ‘Bot sporting much of his alt-mode on his back.
“I’m Air Raid,” announced the new recruit. “Function: warrior. When do I get to fight?”
“Soon.” Jazz replied. “Most mechs don’t ask that when first activated,” he assessed internally. “Good attitude for the situation we’re in right now. Might be a problem later.”
A second Aerialbot shifted from an F-4 Phantom II into someone who looked lost.
“This isn’t Chaar, and… this isn’t me.” said the confused ‘Bot, lightly touching the Combiner column set in his torso. “Where am I?”
“Earth.”
“Is that a place, or a base?”
“It’s a planet. I’ll clue you in later. What’s your name?”
“Um, It’s Fireflight. My function’s reconnaissance.”
The third jet—a F-16 Fighting Falcon—transformed with his arms crossed, analyzing the three Autobots who were analyzing him.
“Name’s Skydive. Function: Air Warfare Specialist.”
“How can a ‘Bot that’s just been built be a specialist in anything?” pondered Jazz. “Especially offa three percent of memory? His data storage capacity must be no joke.”
The forth Aerialbot practically leaped out of alt-mode and demanded everyone’s attention.
“I’m Slingshot. The best of the best. With me up in the sky, MY team’ll cream anyone—high OR low.”
The largest of the group—an XB-70 Valkyrie—converted while questioning Slingshot’s last statement.
“You’re our Air Commander, Slingshot? I wasn’t aware anyone held that position.”
“Powerglide’s your Air Commander,” clarified Wheeljack. “You’ll meet up with the big blowhard soon enough.”
Ratchet chose this moment to test the tall Aerialbot’s cognitive ability with a simple question.
“And you are…?”
“Oh sorry, I’m Silverbolt. And uh, I’m not sure my function is applicable anymore.”
The medic stared at Silverbolt with a blank expression. The results of his cursory examination were inconclusive.
“Listen up Aerialbots,” said Jazz. “We got some friends in a jam not too far from here. I need ya to provide them with air support.”
“Not like we have a choice,” mumbled Skydive.
“When we open the doors you’re gonna see a buncha small creatures rush in here,” warned Wheeljack. “Ignore ‘em.”
“And try not to squash any of them.” cautioned Ratchet.
In preparation, Ratchet and Wheeljack placed their palms on opposite sides of the hangar’s doors. Jazz stood poised with a hand in the air. Then, like a flag waver denoting the start of a race, he dropped it.
The mob poured in as Wheeljack and Ratchet pushed the doors outward. The Aerialbots charged at the humans, appearing as if they were about to disobey orders and trample them under their clanking heels. Ratchet braced himself for the sounds of crunching skulls and squishing noises.
Just before the first Aerialbot’s foot could turn his fear into reality, the quintet transformed, taking flight as the crowd surged beneath them.
“And they’re off!” shouted Jazz.
“Good for them,” replied Wheeljack. “But what do we do about these guys?”

(to be continued)

PART 153

Jazz dived down palms first like a breakdancer about to show off his floor moves. In the span of a second he was a Porsche, deploying a pair of purple speakers from his trunk. 180 decibels of sound slammed into the human army like a physical force, reducing them in an instant to a lake of slime littered with automatic weapons.
“Whoa!” exclaimed Jazz.
A lone survivor—soaked kaftan clinging to his slight frame—rose wide-eyed to his feet, then stumbled screaming from the hangar.
Wheeljack squatted to swab a specimen out of the squirming protoplasm pool with his index finger.
“Humans ain’t supposed to melt are they?”
“Burn? Yeah,” answered Ratchet. “Melt…? No.”
“Looks like THEY WERE synthoids—minus that one dude who high-tailed it outta here,” observed Jazz. “I suspected as much,” he said, returning to robot form. “But we couldn’t take the risk.”



Warpath stood in front of a shuttered warehouse, staring blankly into blighted streets.
Powerglide rapped his knuckles on top of the gunner’s head.
“Hello? Anybody home? Warpath! What’s wrong with ya?”
“Er, I’m… well. Thank you for asking, friend. How are you doing on this fine day?”
Powerglide recoiled in shock at his pal’s sudden lack of techno-Tourettes.
“Whaa…?”
Jazz’ voice blared through his comm. “Ay, Powerglide! Good news, man! You just got a promotion!”
“Got some greenhorns headed your way,” Wheeljack could be heard shouting in the background. “Lead ‘em ta victory!”
The Autobot’s newly minted Air Commander looked up at the exact moment five jets shot by overhead—one after the other.
“I found Warpath,” he radioed. “He’s close by. He sounds a little funny, but otherwise he’s A-okay. I’m sending him over to you guys.”
“10-4. Good to hear he’s still generatin’. I was startin’ to miss all the random sound effects,” joked Jazz.
Powerglide placed his hands on Warpath’s shoulders. “Head to the hangar, pal. Then let Ratchet check you out.”
With a last look, Powerglide took off running, then he transformed and soared upwards into his element yelling—“Hey, wait up! Wait for me, fellas! That’s an order!”
The metal gate behind Warpath creaked upwards slowly. Headmaster Sunstreaker ducked out from under it to join him in the hot sun.
“The coast is clear, Starscream.” the stolen Autobot reported. “This… Powerglide did not suspect a thing.”
“Then roll out, Doctor.” Starscream directed from the shadows. “I’ll be right behind you.”

(to be continued)

PART 154

TOBRUK

“Five combining commandos versus an architect, a maintenance bot… and me,” calculated Smokescreen. “To be honest, I’d rather try my luck in Lord Gyconi’s Pit of Destruction! We can keep ahead of the rollers, but the flyers will overtake Grapple and Hoist before they can find cover. They’re the ones the Decepti-creeps really want—I’m surplus to requirements. Ah well, how’d that song go on my stereo? You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk awayyy… and know when to ROLL!”
The diversionary tactician’s tires spin, spitting sand in their wake. He swerves in behind Grapple, transforms, and fires both shoulder mounted missiles at the space shuttle pursuing his fleeing comrade. The projectiles explode in bursts of debris and black smoke—seemingly unsuccessful in diverting the Combaticon’s dogged trajectory.
Then, a wave of electrical interference washes over Blast Off’s guidance system. It tells him to disregard the feed from his optic sensors—arguing instead that up is down and down is up. As the horizon line rises above Blast Off’s windshield, he tilts his nose cone towards the sky and away from his quarry.
“Scratch one ‘Con,” smirks Smokescreen. “Now let’s see what I can do about his buddy.”
Across the sands, a helicopter hovers over Hoist, easily matching the speed of his alt-mode. Hoist drops the Space Bridge section he’s towing and burns rubber. Vortex’s rotary cannons open up like storm clouds in response, raining down fifty caliber bullets. Smokescreen fires his electro-disrupter rifle in Vortex’s direction. The crackle of the beam striking its target supplants the sound of machine gun fire. Vortex’s main rotor stalls, and he converts as he falls. The incensed Combaticon lands with feet planted firmly, already aiming his weapon.
“I see you, Auto-trash!”
A missile ripping past Vortex’s forearm spoils his aim. When the projectile—packing the equivalent of two hundred pounds of TNT—hits it’s target, the earth shaking explosion leaves nothing behind but a bonfire burning over Hoist’s charred remains.
“HOOWEE!” exclaims Brawl in tank form. “Good thing I had yer six! That wreck dropped you like a rock!”
“That pile of parts wasn’t the shooter, bolt-brain!” screams Vortex. “He is!”
A rally car roars past, covering them in an ebony cloud of exhaust fumes. Brawl rotates his turret in the rally car’s direction—tripping up his teammate in the process.
Brawl’s audio receptors register the sound of a mouthplate meeting the sand.
“You big—kaff—dummy!” coughs Vortex. “Get the slag away from me!”
Vortex lashes out with a kick, overturning his fellow Combaticon’s alt-form. Brawl reconfigures to robot mode, swinging wildly in the smog.
“I’ve had it wit’ you callin’ me outta my name, Vortex!”
Two pairs of rough hands drag the dueling dimwits out of the darkness and into the light.
“Hey! You’re both dummies if ya ask me!” scolds Swindle.
“I concur!” agrees Onslaught. “While you imbeciles fight amongst yourselves, the Autobots are escaping!”



“The mission’s a failure, Jazz.” radios Smokescreen. “Grapple and I are ghost.”

(to be continued)

PART 155

High above Carbomya’s capital six aircraft soar!
Two outbound,” radioed Powerglide, from the tip of their arrowhead formation. “Whoa! It’s Smokescreen and Grapple! Aerialbots, hold your fire!”
“We know who the bad guys are!” Slingshot shot back.
“Yeah!” added Air Raid. “The question is when do we get to perforate ‘em?”
“Right. About. Now!” answered Powerglide. Four vehicles popped into view—a helicopter, a Jeep, an anti-aircraft truck, and a tank. “Let ‘em have it!”
Air Raid accelerated toward Vortex, ventilating his alt-form with high caliber bullets until the Combaticon could no longer claim the sky. Air Raid continued on overhead as Vortex twirled toward the ground—rotors stationary, body spinning instead.
“Reckless…” radioed Powerglide, “but effective! I like it!”
“Hey, if you look first, you may not leap,” joked Air Raid.
Skydive’s laser-guided missiles locked on to the Jeep. The Jeep’s gyro-gun spun in the missiles’ direction. A burst of energy from its barrel sent one spinning off course. The other exploded near enough to catapult the vehicle into the air. Swindle reconfigured his parts in a panic. He landed sliding on his skid plate yelling “cover me, you clowns!”
“Quit yer whinin’ Swindle!” Brawl radioed, rolling in tank form. “I’m comin’!”
Another bomb whistled from the sky, opening the ground in front of the agitated arms dealer.
“Wait for it… wait for it…” teased Slingshot, circling above. “And BAM!” he exclaimed, just as Brawl drove directly into the crater he created, upending himself.
“Now who here thought a dumb Decepticreep WOULDN’T do that?” laughed Slingshot.
“Overconfident fool!” Onslaught bellowed, losing his composure. Brawl’s stupidity, coupled with his enemies’ surety had become too much to bear. In their day, the Combaticons were an elite unit feared throughout the galaxy for their brutal efficiency. He refused to see that reputation sullied by some unknown squad of Autobot jets.
Two projectiles split into six the moment they were clear of the Combaticon commander’s cannons. Incredibly, Slingshot evaded all of them. Six sidewinder missiles zigzagged to an explosive finale without a single strike.
“Close, creep!” taunted Slingshot. “But no cy-gar!”
Powerglide led the aerial assault against Onslaught. “Attaaack!”
His thermal beam raked the roof of Onslaught’s alt-form as he dove down. A trio of concussion bombs blew apart his foe’s anti-aircraft guns as he soared back upwards into the clouds.
“Direct hit!” reveled Powerglide. “Got ‘im!”
Onslaught transformed in time to aim at the next bomber and was enveloped in fire fog before he could pull the trigger. He shielded his face from the intense heat, involuntarily giving voice to his discomfort when his metal skin reached its melting point.
“Aaaiiiiieeeeeee!!”
“Good one, Fireflight!” cheered Silverbolt. “You made that stuffy old ‘Con scream! Now let me show you what I can do!”
A bolt of lightning flew from Silverbolt’s nose cone and electrocuted Brawl as he charged up out of the crater in robot mode. Then the Combaticon fell back into it, glitching uncontrollably.
Fireflight was overcome with laughter at the spectacle.
“HAHAHA… hey buddy… HAHA what’d you say your name was again?”
“It’s Silverbolt!”
“Blast Off!” a smoldering Onslaught sputtered into his comm. “Where are you?!?”
“Inbound.” Blast Off radioed back. “From your tone, Commander, I assume that you believe we are in danger of losing this battle. Allow me to assuage those fears.”
Air Raid and Skydive were wing to wing as they returned for a second pass. The space shuttle that overtook them forced them to split apart and fly in different directions.
“Whoa!” exclaimed Air Raid. “Where’d he come from!?”
“I’m more concerned about where he’s going!” cried Skydive. “Fireflight…! Look out!”
The beam fired from Blast Off’s nose cone flashed through Fireflight’s fuselage, stalling an engine. Slingshot somersaulted through the sky in the shuttle’s wake, somehow managing to still maintain control. Fireflight however, crashed—leaving pieces of a broken wing behind in the sand. Then he reverted to robot mode on his back, offline.
“That new guy just downed Fireflight!” exclaimed Powerglide. “Silverbolt! Get on his tail fin! I’m going after Swindle!”
“Will do, commander!”
Silverbolt accelerated, firing as he closed in on Blast Off’s afterburners.
“You’re a swift one in the air!” Blast Off said, as another beam sent by Silverbolt crackled over his cockpit. “Let’s see how well you perform in space!”
Blast Off aimed for the sun. Silverbolt followed for five seconds… and then abruptly broke off the chase.
“AHH!” yelped Silverbolt. “I-I can’t do it!”
“My aim was to take you out of your element, but I seem to have uncovered a most debilitating defect instead!”
Blast Off followed behind Silverbolt as the Aerialbot fled, continuing to taunt him. “An air warrior that’s afraid of heights-! How droll! Stay out of the skies, coward! You will find them to be anything BUT friendly!”
Below, a badly leaking Swindle cowered behind a boulder—purple optics shifting from left to right. The attack that he was anticipating came from above, reducing his refuge to rubble. The red plane that had just dropped its payload on his head circled back. It was blown out of the air by a space shuttle.
Powerglide’s transformation cog had been triggered by Blast Off’s devastating ion burst. The Autobot ace transformed in mid-air and spiraled toward the sand. The metal-crunching collision with the ground scrambled his sensors to the point where he felt as if he were still falling.
“Get it together, Powerglide…” he mumbled through the malfunction. “Whaa?! I’M BURNING!”
He sprang to his feet, but there was no time to extinguish himself. Swindle was standing just a few yards away soaked in Energon. Powerglide’s targeting system locked on for the shot that would’ve wrecked the wounded Combaticon before he could react.
“C’mon… one blast…” he gasped. “Just gotta… raise my arm.”
His shoulder creaked toward Swindle. Swindle’s smirk widened into a grin.
“You’re gonna plug me with that, huh pal? A nub?”
“Huh…?”
Powerglide’s arm was gone—blown off at the bicep… nothing left but wires dangling out of a blackened, shattered stump. His sensory circuits however, kept telling him that he had an arm—and that it was holding a pistol.
“Heyyy, you’re damaged pretty badly… malfunctioning. But don’t worry, I ain’t gonna kill ya,” Swindle said, jerking his thumb back. “He is.”
Swindle backflipped and became a leg. A semi-formed Bruticus slammed his thigh down on him, becoming whole. With electricity still crackling at the knee where the connection was made, the gestalt menacingly raised his foot.
“UHRRRUUHHH… BRUTICUS WILL… STOMP YOU!”
Air Raid, Skydive, and Slingshot attempted to come to Powerglide’s rescue, strafing Bruticus with bombs, bullets, and missiles. Bruticus seemed unbothered by their niggling attacks—if he truly noticed them at all. The ground shook when the giant finally decided to put his foot down. When he lifted it again, what remained of Powerglide underfoot was unrecognizable.
“WHO’S NEXT?”

(to be continued)

PART 156

The stolen Decepticon shuttle shuddered toward the Carbomyan coast. Wind rushed in through holes in its battered hull, creating a howling whirlwind inside its metallic interior. Optimus Prime sat behind Sideswipe, gun in his lap, unmoved by the forces of Mother Nature.
“Sideswipe!” he shouted above the din. “How much longer until we reach our destination?”
“You mean IF we reach our destination! This crate’s barely holding together!”
“Prime!” Blaster’s voice blasted through the shuttle’s speakers, drowning out Sideswipe’s concerns. “I just picked up a live broadcast from Carbomya! Our side is outmatched and about to be dispatched! Look… see for yourself.”
The dashboard monitor lit up, and on it Optimus Prime saw the monstrosity his Autobots were up against. Pieces of Powerglide lay crushed behind Bruticus as he lumbered towards his next victim. The combined firepower of three aircraft left nothing but little plumes of smoke on his armor. So insignificant were their efforts that Bruticus didn’t even bother to swat them on his way to trample their teammate.
Fireflight returned to online status in the shadow of Bruticus’ foot. Instinctively, the imperiled Aerialbot raised his hands in fear.
“Oh no no no no…”
Optimus saw Silverbolt streak under Bruticus’ heel and then burst from the dust cloud that formed when the Combiner’s foot stomped down. Hugging Silverbolt’s undercarriage with both arms was Fireflight.
“He’s safe. Thank Primus.”
The monster from the monitor appeared on the horizon.
“Woww!” exclaimed Sideswipe. “Look at that thing!”
“Continue onward to Betah, Sideswipe. I’ll handle the situation here.”
“That Combiner looks pretty tough! You ‘Bots are gonna need all the help you get… you sure Prime?”
When the pilot didn’t receive a reply, he waited a few more seconds before glancing over his shoulder. Prime’s seat was empty. The shuttle’s bay door was wide open. The Autobot leader had already leapt into action.

(to be continued)

PART 157

Powerglide destroyed Onslaught’s anti-aircraft guns on the penultimate bombing run before his destruction. When the Combaticons formed Bruticus, the absence of those armaments left a gaping hole in the Combiner’s back. It was a weak point that the enemy plummeting toward him intended to take advantage of.
Optimus Prime’s glowing Energon axe snagged the ragged rim of Bruticus’ injury, halting his fall from the shuttle. He aimed his rifle upwards into the wound and squeezed off two shots before Bruticus’ giant hand swung around to crush him. Optimus gave the mental command for his axe to dissipate, and he met the ground with wheels spinning, speeding away from the enraged behemoth.
“Aerialbots! Retreat and regroup on my position!” he commanded.
Slingshot, Skydive, and Air Raid fell in behind the red truck rumbling beneath them.
“Who’s this guy?” inquired Slingshot.
“A Prime, maybe?” guessed Skydive.
“He sure fights like a Prime!” added Air Raid.



Optimus Prime and the five Aerialbots regrouped in the hills overlooking Tobruk. Bruticus stood like a titanic monument miles away in the distance, awaiting his adversaries’ return.
“We’re going to need a new Air Commander if we’re going back out there,” said Skydive. “We seemed to be doing well before Powerglide was… y’know, destroyed.”
“I appoint Silverbolt,” announced Optimus Prime.
“What?! That ‘Bot’s scared of heights!” Slingshot shouted, pointing at Silverbolt. “Get this—the biggest, fastest jet in the whole bunch gets the drop on a Decepticreep, but then freaks out when he flies above the clouds! What’d you used to be back on Chaar, big guy? A hover barge?!?”
All the Aerialbots erupt in laughter.
“Silverbolt is selfless,” objected Optimus Prime. “While the rest of you sought to destroy your foe, Silverbolt saw a friend in need. His concern for your safety will distract him from his acrophobia.”
“I dunno,” sighed Skydive.
Fireflight stood up from the rock he was sitting on to shake Silverbolt’s hand. “You think you’re up to the job?” he smiled. “I do.”
“Well, Silverbolt?” inquired the Autobot leader, awaiting an answer.
“I won’t let you down, Prime.” Silverbolt said, with all the confidence he could muster.
“Ehh… we’ll see,” sneered Slingshot.
Aerialbots transform!” ordered Silverbolt, ignoring the barb. “Diamond formation. You too, Fireflight! You’re with me!”
Fireflight ran and hopped on Silverbolt, straddling his nose cone as he took off at the tip of the formation.
“No fear,” Silverbolt whispered to himself before shouting “We can do this, Aerialbots! Let’s finish what we started!”

(to be continued)

PART 158

“Form Superion!” commanded Silverbolt.
The Aerialbots merged in mid-air into a two hundred ton giant. Superion’s extended fist collided with Bruticus’ mouth plate at Mach 2, sending the monster flying several thousand feet.
“URRUAAHH!”
Bruticus’ hand moved toward his face to assess the extent of his injuries. His fingers informed him that it had been flattened. The cables sparking around his neck confirmed what his cerebral circuits suspected—a near decapitation.
The voices in his head scream at each other to get up and fight.
Superion was right there as Bruticus attempted to rise up, hammering him back down with a blizzard of blows. Bruticus’ rotor arm began to spin as Superion’s fists fell upon him. A shower of sparks quickly turns into spurts of fuel. Superion stumbles backward, stanching a gash across his chest with an open palm. Bruticus stood to his feet, blinded by rage and spurred on by the smell of spilled Energon.
“BRUTICUS WILL DISASSEMBLE YOU!”
“BIG WORDS,” gasped Superion. “COME. BACK THEM UP.”
Superion’s right hand reconfigured into Fireflight’s thrusters and lit Bruticus’ charging form aflame. The titans grappled, fire spreading over both their bodies. Superion’s knee slammed into Bruticus’ mid-section, loosening his lower abdominal plates. Bruticus retaliated with a headbutt that fissured Superion’s forehead.
“AHHK!”
Dazed, Superion’s sensors fail to feed him information. He awakens on his back, vision obscured by sand after being body slammed. He rolls out of the way of a stomp meant for his head, then stops the second downward thrusting heel with both hands. Bruticus leans in, shifting all his weight to one foot.
“UHRUHHH… BRUTICUS CRUSH YOUR FACE!”
Superion’s clasped hands sink to his face plate. His antennas pick up the faint sound of laughter emanating from the sand colored leg component crushing him.
Suddenly, Bruticus’ back stiffens as he’s struck with an ion bolt. A second shot sends shockwaves through his internal mechanisms. Onslaught feels the others start to drift away. Through sheer force of will he pulls them back into a cohesive unit. Then he supercharges them with the singular focus they need.
There is another enemy begging to be obliterated first.
Bruticus spun around to face this new foe. Optimus Prime’s ion blast blew off the tip of Bruticus’ thumb as he reached down for him. He felt the giant’s four enormous fingers snap around his body like a steel trap. The broken fifth digit’s exposed electrical artery overloads his system on contact.
KAkZZZZzzkk!
Caught in his grasp, the still smoldering Optimus Prime felt as if he were being elevated to the top floor of a Cybertronian skyscraper.
“YOU HURT BRUTICUS,” the monster told him optic to optic. “NOW… YOU DIE!”

(to be continued)

PART 159

An arm that is half harrier jet grabs Bruticus from behind in a headlock. The other arm—comprised of an F-4 Phantom—digs its fingers into Bruticus’ neck cables and pulls the Combaticon Combiner’s head clean off. Stunned by his own strength, Superion drops his grisly prize. The head’s impact generates a foreshock that proceeds the earthquake caused by the collapse of Bruticus’ body. When the dust settles, Bruticus lay sprawled on his back. Standing over him is Superion, fist raised in victory.
“SUPERIONNN… SUPREME!”
The synthesized blip that follows the rumble of Superion’s vocal processor is all too familiar to Optimus Prime. Skywarp appears out of nowhere firing missiles into Superion’s face. Superion stumbles, trying to steady a flaming optic sensor in its socket with one hand while swatting Skywarp away with the other. The Seeker teleports as Astrotrain rockets onto the scene from the east. Optimus Prime expands his parts in an attempt to free himself of Bruticus’ hand, but the fallen giant’s fingers won’t budge.
“Superion! Look out!”
Astrotrain didn’t open fire on Superion as Optimus expected him to, but instead air dropped Rumble onto the Combiner’s head. The diminutive demolitionist’s piledrivers pounded furiously, spreading cracks across Superion’s already compromised cranium. Rumble dodged between Superion’s oversized digits when the gestalt reached upward to pluck him off. He lands on Superion’s shoulder and begins striking the metal under his feet once again, seizing Superion’s right arm. A moment later the locking mechanism within the arm’s combiner port succumbs to seismic forces. The limb detaches, dumping a shrunken, semi alt-formed Fireflight onto a sand dune. Superion screams in auto-tuned agony at the abrupt amputation.
Next, the sight and sound of a sonic boom propagating through the clouds heralds Thundercracker’s arrival. The circular sound wave strikes its target like an explosive shell, shattering Superion’s steel skullcap to reveal the cerebral circuitry blinking beneath it. Rumble laughs as he rides the beaten behemoth down into the dust cloud that rises as they descend.
Restrained in his four fingered prison, Optimus Prime can do nothing except lower his head.
“Superion… no.”
The sound of shifting parts puts an end to the tremors caused by tons of toppling steel. Rumble sprints out of the brown cloud that swallowed him up seconds earlier. Slingshot makes his exit from it as well in alt-mode, riddling Rumble with bullets before angling upwards to join Air Raid, Skydive, and Silverbolt.
The Aerialbots meet Skywarp, Thundercracker, and Astrotrain head on. There is a brief exchange of bullets, rockets, and rays between the two groups, ending in Astrotrain’s expulsion from the skies. Air Raid and Slingshot barrel roll back to harry Thundercracker, while Silverbolt and Skydive split off to handle Skywarp.
Astrotrain lands on the ground as a locomotive, chugging to a stop before the immobilized leader of the Autobots. Out of the Triple Changer steps Optimus Prime’s opposite number.
“Finally,” grins Megatron, as he levels his fusion cannon at Optimus’ head. “It feels like I’ve waited an eternity for this.”

(to be continued)

PART 160

“You’ll have to wait awhile longer, Megatron!”
The shot meant for Optimus Prime’s head struck Bruticus’ pinky as he was being elevated into the air. Megatron continued to fire at his sworn enemy from the ground, leaving charred holes in Bruticus’ immense hand.
Megatron didn’t recognize the headless Combiner clutching his target. He wasn’t sure if Optimus Prime was somehow controlling the Decepticons who comprised it, but what he did know is that he was quickly losing control of the situation.
“MEGATRON!”
Megatron spun around, ready to destroy the interloper who dared take such a commanding tone with him. He was surprised to see that it was Bruticus’ detached head.
“YOU IMPRISONED US!”
Megatron had taken the Sparks of many during his rise to power, but stripped away the freedoms of only a select few.
“Ahhh… the Combaticons! Foot soldiers who amounted to nothing more than a footnote on the data track of Deception conquest.”
“RRR. NOW… BRUTICUS WILL CRUSH YOU… WITH HIS FOOT!”
To Megatron, it felt as if an asteroid had hit the earth behind him. The Decepticon leader found himself thrust into the air, deafened by the pile driving sound of steel striking stratum. He landed on his hands and knees, pelted by rocks and pebbles.
“So… Bruticus can control his body in his current state,” thought Megatron. “But that control isn’t precise. Still… the head distracted me while the body sprung a trap. These Combaticons are not to be underestimated.”
Furious at missing his target, Bruticus threw Optimus Prime at Megatron. Megatron deployed his shield and was shoved backward by the force of Optimus’ impact. Both faction leaders thrust their weapons into each other’s faceplates in the moment that followed.
“I might survive this,” said Megatron, staring into the barrel of Optimus’ ion rifle. “But you won’t.”
“That… is a sacrifice I’m willing to make, Megatron.” said Optimus Prime from a similar position.
The roar of Bruticus’ fist rocketing out of his wrist socket ended the standoff. Megatron tucked and rolled while Optimus Prime transformed and rolled out. The titanic fist smashed deep into the terra firma, bombarding everything in its blast radius with concussive force.
Megatron’s helmet rung like it was hit with a wrecking ball. His optics scanned the rubble for some sort of an advantage.
“Astrotrain!”
“Megatron,” answered Astrotrain. “I’m stuck!”
The Triple Changer’s legs thrashed around while his upper body shuddered just shy of completing the transformation to robot form.
“Useless,” muttered Megatron.
Optimus Prime rumbled toward Megatron in truck mode. Megatron aimed his fusion cannon at his grille, intending to stop his engine and slow his momentum. Bruticus intervened before the energy could be released, literally blowing away the interfering Autobot with arm-mounted rotor blades. Megatron let the shot meant for Optimus Prime fly towards Bruticus’ forehead crest. The monstrous head suffered little damage from the attack, and in short time Megatron found himself back to dodging blows from Bruticus’ body.



A quarter mile away, Optimus Prime reverts to robot mode after a rough landing in the Carbomyan mountains.
“Smokescreen… where are you?” he radios.
“Heading towards the action, Prime.” Smokescreen radios back. “And I invited a friend.”

(to be continued)

PART 161

Bruticus’ stomp created a fissure under Megatron’s feet, sending the tyrant tumbling into its depths. The tremors he felt at the bottom of the crevice were the footsteps of Bruticus coming to complete his destruction.
Megatron waited, and when the pit grew overcast with shadow, he discharged his fusion cannon into the darkness. The searing energy struck Bruticus squarely in the chest, sending the giant stumbling backward out of view.
“Ungainly pile of reject parts,” dismissed Megatron.
The self styled “Slag-Maker” sunk his hands and feet into the sides of his prison and began to climb towards the light. Halfway to the top, the sun was blotted out once more—this time by the Combiner’s forearm reconfigured into a cannon.
“GOODBYE… MEGATRON!”
“NOOOooo…!”
SKOOM! BOOM BOOM BOOM!
Flames shot out of the hole where Bruticus’ head used to be, and black smoke billowed from the wound on his back. The bomber behind the sneak attack, Devcon, circled back in his sleek spaceship mode for another run.
For a moment it looked like Bruticus might fall before the bounty hunter’s bombs fell again, but then the Combaticons who comprised him righted themselves. Seeking retribution, the mechanical monstrosity retaliated with his wrist cannon. Sonic waves spread out from the socket-barrel, blurring the sky before hammering Devcon’s hull with hurricane force.
Speeding towards Bruticus in their vehicular forms, Grapple radios his astonishment ahead to Smokescreen.
“My word—! Bruticus has better aim than most Decepticons who still have a head!”
“Yeahhh, I can’t argue with that. I think I see the problem though. Gimme a second to fix it.”
Smokescreen zoomed past Bruticus’ enormous decapitated dome, draping it in inky black exhaust. The effect was immediate.
“UHRUHHH! BRUTICUS… CAN’T SEE!” BRUTICUS IS… BLINDED!”
Bruticus’ body thrashed around wildly, lashing out at enemies who weren’t there. Optimus Prime transformed from a truck to a rifle wielding robot running towards his target. Three shots fired into the hole in Bruticus’ back staggered him, but failed to do any significant damage.
Grapple transformed and took a potshot at the goliath that he didn’t expect to yield any results.
“Bruticus is nearly as durable within as he is without! We simply do not have the firepower to destroy something this dense!”
“You don’t, Autobot…”
Grapple recoiled in fear as Megatron emerged from the pit.
“… but I do!”
“A truce then, Megatron…” proposed Optimus Prime. “Together the two of us can bring an end to this monster’s rampage!”
“Agreed. For now… ONLY for now.”
Megatron leapt, shrinking and changing in mid-air. He landed as a pistol in Optimus Prime’s outstretched palm. Optimus fired one shot into Bruticus’ internals, severing his entire spinal structure in a fiery explosion. The Combiner’s shadow loomed large over Grapple like a collapsing skyscraper, threatening to crush him.
“Grapple, transform and roll out!” shouted Optimus Prime.
It was too late. The Autobot architect covered his head with his arms. Fortunately for him, the forecast changed and the sky hailed significantly smaller Combaticons.
Optimus Prime waved his Megatron gun from left to right, ready to shoot any Combaticon that rose after Bruticus was razed. Not one enemy combatant functioned properly after the fall. The group lay groaning on their backs or their sides as energy arced across their bodies.
Devcon changed form as he swooped down from the sky. Battered and bent, he appeared more than a little miffed at his current condition. Smokescreen shifted out of alt-mode and shook his hand.
“Thanks for your help.”
“Thank you for boosting my bank account,” replied Devcon.
“You’re welcome to stay,” offered Optimus Prime. “Let my medics repair your injuries.”
Devcon grabbed Swindle by the spare tire on his back.
“Nahh, I’ll be passing the planet of Junk on my way to Paradron with this piece of trash,” he said. “The Junkions have some of the best mechanics in the universe. I’ll touch down there for refueling and repairs.”
The bounty hunter shook his head at the bodies laying around them, choosing to comment on the carnage for the first time.
“Reminds me of Cybertron,” he sniffed. “Good luck with your war. I’ve got to get going.”
The Autobots watched as Devcon transformed and took off for space, hauling Swindle in a black net behind him.
“How noble… a freelance peacekeeping pacifist,” sneered Megatron. “You can unhand me now, Prime. The danger’s over.”
“I don’t think so,” replied Optimus Prime, bringing Megatron broadside to his mouthplate. His index finger acted as an upper body trigger lock. The strength in his hand prevented his enemy from stretching his legs. “You and I have many things to discuss, Megatron.”
Smokescreen trained his gun on where Astrotrain’s head would appear if the Triple Changer ever completed his conversion.
“We’re taking prisoners, Prime?”
“Of course, Smokescreen. It’s a mercy the Decepticons wouldn’t extend to us if the roles were reversed, but we are not them. Grapple, start looking for materials to restrain the Combaticons with.”
“Yes, Prime. The Space Bridge section that I stashed away will bind them quite uncomfortably once I’ve broken it down into strips.”
Grapple turned to transform. Optimus’ arm shot straight out and blasted him in the back. Grapple fell with his mouth open and the light missing from his optics.
“No—!”
Megatron reveled in the Autobot leader’s pain. “Optimus Prime: Autobot killer!”
Optimus’ arm jerked toward Smokescreen next. Smokescreen gasped. Optimus flung Megatron away. The murderous Decepticon landed crouched and ready for combat.
Optimus Prime drew his rifle. “One shall stand…”
“…And one shall fall,” concluded Megatron.

(to be continued)