The Energon Pub

[AFTRHR]

[A Reprise in History]

The day the decrees were laid out, thousands of Decepticons cried out cheers, as if the cycle after cycle of long, seemingly endlesss wars, seemingly senseless wars, had all finally come to fruition. It was a day that would be considered pivotal shift in galaxy's future, the day that the Autobots were finally crushed beneath the force of the Decepticon hammer. Many celebrated, some with laughs, some with fresh Energon in hand, as the streets of Kaon, now a city being rebuilt from the ground up, were lush with a new life not seen in ages. This was what cemented Megatron as the victorious leader of the Decepticons, of the war, of Cybertron, and many Cons eagerly looked forward to the planet's new era that would be established under the purple banner. It would be a long journey ahead to rebuild so much of what was destroyed, but it would be worth the effort that they put into it. After all, seeing Cybertron restored to its glory was the collective dream of many a Decepticon.

Yet there was the other side of all of this. Those donning the red badge were now facing the ground, in despair, in anger, in loss. How could this have happened? Were their efforts all in vain? The Autobots were now a scattered group, hardly cohesive enough to be called much of a faction anymore. When news of the surrender first reached across the Bot forces, it was hard to believe that it had actually happened. Disgraced by failure, or angered by the actions of their leaders, each Autobot found themselves trying to grasp for any semblance of meaning to all this. Some went into hiding, trying to bide their time until they could put themselves together and perhaps continue the resistance against the Cons, gripping their fists tight in anticipation for a moment to strike. But most found themselves acting as second class citizens under the new Con rule, to play along with things until something concrete was settled among the higher ups. Now charged with mundane and labourous tasks, many Autobots were now to play a part in the reconstruction of the cities, to the designs architected by the Decepticons. Such would be life for those previously under the red banner.

Though a tenuous peace was achieved, not all could be said to have had the same joyous reactions to all of this. There exist Decepticons uncomfortable with the way Megatron has decreed this peace among Cybertronians, those who are disgusted by the thought of walking among Autobots. And likewise, there are those among the Autobots who hold mixed opinions about their leaders - what was to become of Optimus Prime now that his title merely made him a symbolic figurehead with no true power under this new Decepticon rule?

And so began anew, this chapter in Cybertron's history. Home, under the Decepticon banner.

[Cryhavok]

~~~~~ ~~~~~

The Jump Joint

A bar. Of course it was a bar. What else could it be. And the newly re-opened Jump Joint was as good as any. The war was over. Supposedly anyway. The Decepticons had won. Imagine. Who would have thought? Sure, he had believed they
would eventually win. But let’s face it. He thought they’d have won eons ago. He had 
been so certain. It wasn’t supposed take longer than the whole evolutionary arch of 
some organic species from the discovery of fire to the their bitter end in a self-inflicted nuclear holocaust. 

And now? It was difficult to believe this was it.

And yet this was it. He had been there. A witness to Optimus Prime surrendering to  Megatron in exchange for the Decepticons sparing Earth after some stratagem 
engineered by Megatron and Scorponok had ended up with enough spaceship guns
being pointed at the fleshling planet to turn its surface to glass more than thrice over 
if Megatron so willed.

And Prime… in a show of weakness he’d never understand had laid down his weapon 
and accepted a defeat just to spare a bunch of worthless fleshbags from extinction. 
Heck, he didn’t even fully understand why Megatron had agreed to the deal despite of 
holding such an edge over the Autobots but that wasn’t exactly something he had to 
understand. If he had to guess it was ultimately because of the dwindling numbers of 
the Cybertronians as a whole. The access to the Well of Sparks had been lost for so long. 
Not a single new Cybertronian had been given birth since the early years of the Great War. 
And if Megatron wanted to spread his Decepticon Empire across the stars like he had 
always preached  about their grand destiny – well, he certainly needed bodies to carry out 
such plans.

But it was not time for that yet. They needed to rebuild so much. And they desperately 
needed more energon if they wanted to achieve anything. But at least they had an organic 
world full of resources to produce it so, or so he had heard. Nebulos or something like that. 
So, the calm before the storm as some would say. Perhaps it was. Nevertheless, it was way 
too early to say. But at least for a time being before he’d receive new orders - Motormaster  could lean back and gulp down few cans of engex – in a relative peace.

It was just that… it was starting to get way too quiet for his tastes. And that hardly ever  boded well for those around him.

~~~~~ ~~~~~