Re: TRANSFORMERS: RESOLUTE
Posted: Sat Apr 10, 2021 1:08 am
PART 116
Camshaft placed a translucent hand on Offroad’s head. The Stunticon imposter instinctively recoiled at his touch. A cold chill travelled from the base of his neck all the way down to the last rung on his spinal assembly.
“You’re taking too long to die!” laughed the evil apparition.
“Camshaft... you’re real...?”
“Of course I’m real! The portal to the Allspark is wide open, welcoming you... but you won’t cross over! So I figured hey, since the door’s cracked, why don’t I slide on through and pay my old pal Sunstreaker a visit? But first, “Offroad”, I want you to see what happened long ago.”
CHAAR. 1 MILLION YEARS AGO.
The convoy consisting of fifty Autobots came to a halt before a canyon of ruined structures rusting under blood red skies. Camshaft hovered out of the building farthest from them and flashed his headlights.
“All clear! No snipers,” he radioed. “The Decepti-creeps are waiting for us just outside the Hall of Judgement. As agreed upon, Onslaught and his goons have Magnificus in an Energon restraint, ready to hand him over.”
“Glorious,” acknowledged Delta Magnus. “Autobots... roll forth!”
Road Rage accelerated to the front of the procession, matching Magnus’ speed as they rumbled past endless rows of crumbling constructs.
“I would strongly advise caution, Magnus. If ever there was a sector ripe for ambush, this is it.”
“I have complete confidence in our scout’s abilities,” Delta Magnus replied. “Nothing escapes his notice.”
Ahead of them, Four figures stand on the steps of the Hall of Judgement—Onslaught, Brawl, Blast Off, and Vortex. At the bottom of the stairs, Magnificus kneels before the oncoming Autobot convoy. At Delta Magnus’ command, fifty Autobots transform at once—but it was not the warden who approached the deposed Decepticon commander, it was a Cybertronian ambassador named Crosscut.
“Magnificus of Mebion,” he sniffed. “Undone by your own underlings, I see. Perhaps you should have stayed on your home planet instead of involving yourself in Cybertronian affairs.”
“I was built on Cybertron, you pitiful politician!” Magnificus spat defiantly. “And I will die for Cybertron if that is Primus’ will!”
“May Primus have mercy upon your Spark, but it shall be the will of the citizenry that will see you rendered into slag!” the ambassador decreed, before turning his gaze toward Magnificus’ captors.
“Greetings, Onslaught. Sentinel Prime dispatched me over the Space Bridge to negotiate a peace agreement between your forces and the staff of Trypticon penitentiary.”
“Salutations, ambassador Crosscut. In return for the cessation of all Decepticon military action on Chaar, I request only that we be allowed to leave this planet unscathed.”
“You have my word that no armament atop Trypticon will be used to fire upon your craft as you depart—if that is what you were alluding to. But tell me, Onslaught, how do you intend to get off-planet? Your starship has been destroyed.”
“Ambassador, surely you have been informed that my engineers have successfully reconfigured Beta Supreme back to base mode? We will return to Cybertron in the deceased Guardian’s rocket module.”
“What you propose is monstrous, Onslaught! The citizens of Cybertron will never stand for a fallen hero’s remains to be used as a means of—of escape by the very Decepticons responsible for his demise!”
“Then have Sentinel Prime send over materials for the construction of a new space cruiser!”
“I do not think he will agree to that.”
“Then tell me what he will agree to, ambassador! Sentinel Prime wants an end to this conflict, does he not?”
A few rows behind the representatives, a fog drifting drifting along the periphery of the troops draws Camshaft’s attention away from the negotiations. For a moment, the fog seems to solidify, taking the form of someone famous before drifting away again. The scout could hardly believe his optic sensors.
“Wheeljack... here?” he thought.
Wheeljack was widely known for inventing new weapons and gadgets. In fact, the inventor had recently engineered new alt-modes for Grimlock’s unit, which they in turn, used to decimate Megatron’s forces in Kalis—turning the tide of the war. If Wheeljack was setting up something to capture Onslaught’s crew, he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by alarming anyone. Still, he needed to investigate to ensure that what he saw wasn’t an enemy agent setting a trap.
He slipped away silently, stopping at the very spot where he saw the fog take form. The mystery mech had left an object there. It was small, green, disc-shaped... and extremely dangerous.
“Bomb!” yelled Camshaft. “Clear the area! It’s a Nucleon bomb!”
Camshaft transformed and sped towards the nearest structure. No one followed. Bodyguards threw themselves on top of Delta Magnus and Crosscut, hoping to shield them from damage. Several more ran over to the device, attempting to diffuse it while others around them argued that they should try disposing of it instead. The bomb exploded astro-seconds later, leaving only the flickering images of four Combaticons overlooking a field of dead Autobots.
“Holograms,” Camshaft whispered, peeking through a crack in the steel wall of his shelter. “Onslaught and his cronies were never here... just Magnificus.”
Delta Magnus was dead. So was Crosscut. He saw Road Rage—burned black and naked as a protoform—struggle to stand up near their bodies. Then he saw her promptly put down by a beam that sizzled over his right shoulder. He whirled around and found himself staring down the barrel of the shooter’s smoking gun. The mercenary resembled Wheeljack. The two were similar in shape and color, only the mech pointing a pistol at him wore a visor instead of a mouthplate.
“You’re the mech I saw out there in the fog!” Camshaft exclaimed. “The one that planted the bomb!”
“Aye. That was me. But ya got one thing wrong... I am the fog! Name’s Exhaust. I got the power ta change me molecules inta livin’ smoke. But enough about me, lad. I need ta know what yer willin’ ta do ta keep yer brain module inside of it’s cranium casing.”
Camshaft bowed his head. “I’ll do whatever you want me to... anything you want.”
“Softy,” the mercenary sneered, as he shoved a rectangular object into the scout’s hand. “Left the struts out on your model, did they? Here. Take this and deliver it ta Cordon at the prison. And don’t think of tossin’ it away before ya get there. Ya won’t like what’ll happen to ya if ya do.”
(to be continued)
Camshaft placed a translucent hand on Offroad’s head. The Stunticon imposter instinctively recoiled at his touch. A cold chill travelled from the base of his neck all the way down to the last rung on his spinal assembly.
“You’re taking too long to die!” laughed the evil apparition.
“Camshaft... you’re real...?”
“Of course I’m real! The portal to the Allspark is wide open, welcoming you... but you won’t cross over! So I figured hey, since the door’s cracked, why don’t I slide on through and pay my old pal Sunstreaker a visit? But first, “Offroad”, I want you to see what happened long ago.”
CHAAR. 1 MILLION YEARS AGO.
The convoy consisting of fifty Autobots came to a halt before a canyon of ruined structures rusting under blood red skies. Camshaft hovered out of the building farthest from them and flashed his headlights.
“All clear! No snipers,” he radioed. “The Decepti-creeps are waiting for us just outside the Hall of Judgement. As agreed upon, Onslaught and his goons have Magnificus in an Energon restraint, ready to hand him over.”
“Glorious,” acknowledged Delta Magnus. “Autobots... roll forth!”
Road Rage accelerated to the front of the procession, matching Magnus’ speed as they rumbled past endless rows of crumbling constructs.
“I would strongly advise caution, Magnus. If ever there was a sector ripe for ambush, this is it.”
“I have complete confidence in our scout’s abilities,” Delta Magnus replied. “Nothing escapes his notice.”
Ahead of them, Four figures stand on the steps of the Hall of Judgement—Onslaught, Brawl, Blast Off, and Vortex. At the bottom of the stairs, Magnificus kneels before the oncoming Autobot convoy. At Delta Magnus’ command, fifty Autobots transform at once—but it was not the warden who approached the deposed Decepticon commander, it was a Cybertronian ambassador named Crosscut.
“Magnificus of Mebion,” he sniffed. “Undone by your own underlings, I see. Perhaps you should have stayed on your home planet instead of involving yourself in Cybertronian affairs.”
“I was built on Cybertron, you pitiful politician!” Magnificus spat defiantly. “And I will die for Cybertron if that is Primus’ will!”
“May Primus have mercy upon your Spark, but it shall be the will of the citizenry that will see you rendered into slag!” the ambassador decreed, before turning his gaze toward Magnificus’ captors.
“Greetings, Onslaught. Sentinel Prime dispatched me over the Space Bridge to negotiate a peace agreement between your forces and the staff of Trypticon penitentiary.”
“Salutations, ambassador Crosscut. In return for the cessation of all Decepticon military action on Chaar, I request only that we be allowed to leave this planet unscathed.”
“You have my word that no armament atop Trypticon will be used to fire upon your craft as you depart—if that is what you were alluding to. But tell me, Onslaught, how do you intend to get off-planet? Your starship has been destroyed.”
“Ambassador, surely you have been informed that my engineers have successfully reconfigured Beta Supreme back to base mode? We will return to Cybertron in the deceased Guardian’s rocket module.”
“What you propose is monstrous, Onslaught! The citizens of Cybertron will never stand for a fallen hero’s remains to be used as a means of—of escape by the very Decepticons responsible for his demise!”
“Then have Sentinel Prime send over materials for the construction of a new space cruiser!”
“I do not think he will agree to that.”
“Then tell me what he will agree to, ambassador! Sentinel Prime wants an end to this conflict, does he not?”
A few rows behind the representatives, a fog drifting drifting along the periphery of the troops draws Camshaft’s attention away from the negotiations. For a moment, the fog seems to solidify, taking the form of someone famous before drifting away again. The scout could hardly believe his optic sensors.
“Wheeljack... here?” he thought.
Wheeljack was widely known for inventing new weapons and gadgets. In fact, the inventor had recently engineered new alt-modes for Grimlock’s unit, which they in turn, used to decimate Megatron’s forces in Kalis—turning the tide of the war. If Wheeljack was setting up something to capture Onslaught’s crew, he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by alarming anyone. Still, he needed to investigate to ensure that what he saw wasn’t an enemy agent setting a trap.
He slipped away silently, stopping at the very spot where he saw the fog take form. The mystery mech had left an object there. It was small, green, disc-shaped... and extremely dangerous.
“Bomb!” yelled Camshaft. “Clear the area! It’s a Nucleon bomb!”
Camshaft transformed and sped towards the nearest structure. No one followed. Bodyguards threw themselves on top of Delta Magnus and Crosscut, hoping to shield them from damage. Several more ran over to the device, attempting to diffuse it while others around them argued that they should try disposing of it instead. The bomb exploded astro-seconds later, leaving only the flickering images of four Combaticons overlooking a field of dead Autobots.
“Holograms,” Camshaft whispered, peeking through a crack in the steel wall of his shelter. “Onslaught and his cronies were never here... just Magnificus.”
Delta Magnus was dead. So was Crosscut. He saw Road Rage—burned black and naked as a protoform—struggle to stand up near their bodies. Then he saw her promptly put down by a beam that sizzled over his right shoulder. He whirled around and found himself staring down the barrel of the shooter’s smoking gun. The mercenary resembled Wheeljack. The two were similar in shape and color, only the mech pointing a pistol at him wore a visor instead of a mouthplate.
“You’re the mech I saw out there in the fog!” Camshaft exclaimed. “The one that planted the bomb!”
“Aye. That was me. But ya got one thing wrong... I am the fog! Name’s Exhaust. I got the power ta change me molecules inta livin’ smoke. But enough about me, lad. I need ta know what yer willin’ ta do ta keep yer brain module inside of it’s cranium casing.”
Camshaft bowed his head. “I’ll do whatever you want me to... anything you want.”
“Softy,” the mercenary sneered, as he shoved a rectangular object into the scout’s hand. “Left the struts out on your model, did they? Here. Take this and deliver it ta Cordon at the prison. And don’t think of tossin’ it away before ya get there. Ya won’t like what’ll happen to ya if ya do.”
(to be continued)