Earth:

Galvatron rushed Blane, throwing a savage right that connected with the Renegade’s forehead. A bright flash of green light erupted from the point of contact, it snaked down Galvatron’s arm and wrapped around his head, Blane receiving the same burst in his vision, filling his world with memories that were not his own.
Images of both faction leaders slipped across their physical connection, Megatron leading his troops against the autobots as Cy-Kill and his Renegades wreaked havoc across the guardian ranks.
A warlord beaten to the brink of death by his age-old rival…
A tyrant unable to realize his ambitions…
Their minds crossed, histories shared, aspirations of conquest revealed and evaluated. Above their astral bodies was Unicron, an irregular combination of his various incarnations watching them. His laughter filled their minds until they retreated back to their bodies, back to reality.
“So,” Galvatron’s hand grasped his brow, the pain of connecting minds still burning, “Unicron could no longer control me, so he found himself another. Pathetic.”
“Know what’s pathetic,” Blane stood, eyes narrowed “Power came to you, bit you in the face, and you STILL didn’t know what t’do with it. Me?” He slammed his fist against his chest twice, “I understand there’s nothin’ I CAN’T do. Top of the list though, is offin’ you.”
Blane swung and caught Galvatron in the chest with a flat ‘KLANG!’ Galvatron rebounded and charged forward, spinning and landing a backhand to Blane’s neck. The Renegade grabbed Galvatron’s forearm and hurled him into the ground. The earth caved inward with the Decepticon’s weight, leaving a thick scar behind. Blane aimed for Galvatron’s head and stomped a hole inches from his target as Galvatron rolled out of the way and to his feet. Energy pulled towards his fusion cannon and discharged into Blane’s chest. The GoBot was rocked back as the shot splayed in a star shape off his metal. He hit the ground and looked down at the smoking red surface, casting an angry sneer at his foe. Galvatron’s mind ticked off his options, but found only a fraction of the usual storm that came in his previous battles. The rage he remembered summoning during his last fight with Prime was gone. No time was allowed to ponder the sudden malfunction, Blane leapt into Galvatron with a solid right. A patch of dry, rocky land accepted Galvatron twenty yards away. A line of mech fluid ran from his mouth. He wiped it away with a grunt, getting to his feet in time to see Blane hovering above him. Yellow strings of ragged energy collected at his wrists and coursed through his hands. A dull hum came and Blane opened his hand, launching a line of flickering power directly a Galvatron. The Decepticon warlord felt a burst of pain and saw a wide puncture wound in his right leg. What was wrong with him? He gnashed his teeth, waiting for the primal fury that propelled him to victory so many times before. Blane landed before him, Galvatron raised his cannon and managed to fire off another blast of plasma. It hit Blane’s chest and exploded, throwing him off his feet and into the air. The gobot recovered and landed, sliding back a few meters before stopping. His hand went to his chest to inspect the damage. A charred dent of metal greeted him, hot to the touch and oozing smoke. He expected to find a hole, but there was nothing. He looked at Galvatron, puzzlement upon his face.
“That’s it? That’s all you got?”
Galvatron screamed and ran at his foe, but caught a fist to his midsection in response. Doubled over, Galvatron was struck with a knee to his face and arced backward into another downward fist from Blane. As he hit the ground Galvatron found himself unable to understand why he was losing this conflict. Why was he making mistakes he’d never made during the war? The way things were looking, he might not live to make a another error.
“What is with you? Get… up!” Blane struck him again and Galvatron was thrown off the ground and into the air, kicked back down with a single movement. Dull brown clouds of dust plumed around Galvatron's body and he felt his internal systems beginning to strain, attempting to retain their structural integrity. Blane stalked back and forth, eyes blazing, smoke curling up from the edges, an animalistic snarl on his face. This was not what he expected, this was not the Galvatron Unicron had shown him.
“YOU served Unicron!? You ain’t fit to serve me oil!
He drew back and slammed his fist against Galvatron’s skull, the Decepticon grunted and moved to stand. Blane hissed, a glowing fist curled back.
“You think this is funny? You think I’m messin’ with you?!”
“FIGHT!” his fist exploded off Galvatron’s brow.
“ME!!” he swung with his other hand and caught Galvatron in the face again. Blane’s expression twisted with fury, he clasped Galvatron’s head in his hands and yanked his face inches from his own. “I didn’t ride here t’ fight some scrapiron chump. I’m lookin’ for Galvatron. Seen him?”
Crimson malice glared back at him, and Blane could see the desire to fight, but there was something lacking, an internal struggle Galvatron was losing. It enraged him.
“You’re broke, a cripple.” he whispered fiercely, his words cutting into Galvatron’s audio as if it were only them on the battlefield, “I whooped you like a dog, now it’s time to put you down.” His hands shimmered, casting a brilliant gleam against Galvatron’s helmet.

*************

Metroplex’s body sparked with large bands of electrical interference from the ship’s damage. Light gleamed off his shoulder, and suddenly disappeared as a deep shadow fell across him. Thruster stood over him, foot raised and ready to come down on his chest. He winced as he caught her strike, twisting the appendage hard enough to throw her off balance. She reached back with one hand to cushion the eventual fall, her other hand leveled a sizable cannon towards him. It thrummed to life and blasted a smoldering dent in his chest. Metroplex shouted in anger as Thruster fell backwards, her mass caving a thick dent in the ground when she hit. Metroplex managed to stand, weapons humming to life as he watched Thruster push herself to her feet. Though she was slightly smaller than him, he was amazed by her size. Few beings came close. He unleashed his arsenal, countless streams of energy thundered against the Renegade battleship as she leaned forward, using one of her back sections as a shield against the assault. The siding stressed and began to glow, every shot radiating pain through her systems. A network of ports and slots folded open along her arms and legs, she reared back and returned fire with her own cannons. The colliding weaponry ignited the sky above them in an array of purples and reds, choking the atmosphere with darkness.
Metroplex clenched his teeth in pain as a missile struck the side of his head, dislodging one of the cannons mounted to his helmet.

**********

“Incoming!” Springer called and swung himself to the side as Metroplex’s head cannon spun through the air and passed him. He swooped down after it, caught in the downwind of the massive object, and repeated his warning to Arcee and Blur, grateful to see them scatter and narrowly avoid the gigantic firearm. It struck the ground and kept going, burying itself a third of its length into the ground with a deafening explosion of rock and metal.
“Keep going!” Springer radioed from the air, “The sooner we reach Autobot City II, the sooner we can radio Cybertron for help-” The words had barely left his transmitter when he picked up a blinking spot on his radar- right above him. Seemingly out of thin air a blue and silver helicopter appeared and fired on Springer.
“What the-?” he was caught on his main body and shouted in pain as his circuitry threatened to overheat. He veered to the left and for the first time got a good look at his assailant. Amongst the blue coloration and silver highlights on Cop-Tor was an unmistakable emblem. Red in color, almost car shaped in appearance resembling the letter ‘R’. The main shape sat on a pair of wheels, the rear wheel larger, pushing up the back. A single narrowed eye was set near the front. Springer didn’t recognize it as any faction he’d seen before.
“Who are you? Some dredge that couldn’t cut it on your homeworld?”
“My name is Cop-Tor,” a brusque voice replied, “As I told your friends before I killed them.”
For a moment Springer saw red, then forced himself to calm down long enough to notice a second beep on his radar. He glanced down and saw it was directly beneath him but on the ground, giving chase to Arcee, Hot Rod and Blur.
“The one you sense is Crasher. She will kill them, and I will kill you.”
With that Cop-Tor’s frontal shield parted and formed shoulder pads as his legs extended from the lower section of the helicopter’s body. Arms and hand claws appeared, finally the head, his propeller blades separated to form a pair of swords he now grasped firmly. Springer transformed, catching his rotar blade in a nonchalant gesture one could easily mistake for overconfidence. In truth every circuit, every bit of awareness was focused on Cop-Tor.
“Springer’s the name. What’s your deal?”
Cop-Tor stared at him; his swords glistened.
“Alright,” Springer readied his own sword, “How ‘bout I beat it out of you?”
Cop-Tor almost smiled, “Fair enough.” A loud clang echoed as their weapons met, locked in a shaking ‘X’ as each struggled to overpower the other. Sparks raced along the blades as they ground against one another with the grating shriek of metal.

***********

“Something’s coming up on us fast!”
Hot Rod checked his sensors and tried to get a fix on the black streak closing the stretch of road between them. What he picked up instead was a cloud of mad laughter surrounding the vehicle. Its speed increased as it pulled along Hot Rod.
“Hey handsome, goin’ my way?” Crashed swerved and rammed his side, driving Hot Rod into a mad spin. He’d barely regained his balance when she plowed into him again, that maniacal laugh pumping from her as if she were an infinite well of giggles. Hot Rod cut left as she came at him again, she rumbled past and swerved a 180, then peeled out and made for him. Hot Rod’s engine rattled, he jammed his brakes and cut his wheel, spinning himself to face the psycho car as he jammed his gears into reverse. He sped backwards and called his weapon to his roof. It locked into place and fired, shredding the road as he went before taking aim at the cackling vehicle in pursuit.
Crasher’s form shifted as she neared the ruined stretch, the hood of her car form folding down to become the chest, legs folding free of the rear while arms formed from the car’s upper half. Her head appeared with a loud cackle, her doors spread from her back like a pair of black wings. She landed with a thundering impact, energy splashed from her feet and ripped into the same patch of now useless road. She smiled at Hot Rod, who transformed, gun spinning in his hand. He looked her over, she was freakishly large for a fem. “And you are?”
“Call me Crasher, cutie,” she took a step towards him and he fired a shot that tagged the ground before her. She halted and looked down. “Nice moves,” her smile broadened as she raised her foot, “Let’s dance.” She brought he foot down hard, a jagged blast of blue-yellow electrical fire zig-zagged towards Hot Rod like a rabid wolf. Hot Rod fired, and watched in disbelief as Crasher’s discharge arced into the air and enveloped the energy shot like a wave overtaking a surfer. It splashed back to the ground and lunged at him from less than a foot away. He transformed and floored the gas, streaking off the road as the energy pursued him over the rocky terrain. Finally he cut his tires and took aim at Crasher herself, shifting gears as he sped towards her. She slid her foot across the ground, killing the electrical charge and redirecting it into her hands.
“Here’s the line, speedy, come see what first prize is-ahh!”
A cascade of plasma fire rained down on Crasher’s back. Arcee’s engine rattled as she launched forward and transformed, blaster in hand and firing at the much larger female.
Hot Rod blared his floodlights, blinding the ebony Renegade a moment before slamming into her. She crashed across his hood and landed on his roof where she dug her fingers into his metal and held fast. Hot Rod yelped and made a sharp right as Arcee continued to pepper Crasher. She growled, pulled herself into a quick handstand and let herself fall forward, her foot coming alive with energy moments before smashing into Hot Rod’s hood.
The immediate blast of pain flashed Hot Rod to the prison cell he shared with Kup on the Quintesson planet. It raced along his body like a net and drove a scream from him. His servos tensed in unison, threatening to rip his body apart from the inside. He transformed and tumbled in the dirt as Crasher landed. She ran at the Autobot and kicked him in the chest with a fresh charge. His spasms reminded her of a fish drowning in air, flopping about helplessly as his body tore itself asunder.
“Hot Rod!” Arcee spun her wheels and cut left in a sharp semi-circle, nose pointed towards the battle. She revved her engine and prepared to take off when a long thread of ‘No WAIT’s peppered her audio.
“What Blur?” Her engine roared impatiently as she prepared to speed away.
“They’re tryingot stopusfrom getting to Autobotbase II, we have to contactCybertron or we’ll allbedoomed doomed doomed!”
“You go.” She let up on the brake, squealing rubber against metal. “I’ll handle this.”
“No wait! Youcan’t fight her, wedon’tknow anything aboutthese botsor whattheycando or-”
“Can it Blur! Get to Autobot City II and contact Cybertron. Prime’ll know what to do!”
“Okay finebut don’tsayI didn’twarn you!” He sped off towards the armored walls of their final fortress, hoping he could get there in time but more importantly, before another one of those robots appeared…

************

Springer’s arms were straining and it didn’t look like Cop-Tor’s were. He was being pushed back and knew eventually Cop-Tor was going to take a swing with his other sword. It was already pulling back, readying itself for action. Springer yanked his sword free and pulled back in time to feel the wind from Cop-Tor’s blade as it whizzed inches from his throat. He raised his sword and slashed downward, catching Cop-Tor’s right side. A slit marred the assaulted area, and Springer couldn’t help but smile.
“You owe me info.”
Cop-Tor readied his swords and came at Springer, “That I do. I come from a planet named Gobotron.” Their swords met again, “On that world there are more like me, but we were a planet at war. I followed Cy-Kill, now known as Blane.” He swatted Springer’s sword away and caught the Autobot across the chest, leaving a deep groove behind. Springer halted the next swing with the length of his sword and pushed forward; with a quick spin he yanked the weapon free and sparked the blade against Cop-Tor’s chest.
“More.”
Cop-Tor’s eyes narrowed. “Blane is leader of the Renegades.” He matched Springer’s attacks and countered with his own. “We’re the bad guys.”
“No kidding.” Springer was finding it harder to grip his weapon. Catching Cop-Tor’s strikes were wearing his wrist joints.
“So if you’re the bad guys, who’re the good guys?”
“Guardians. Not that it will matter to you soon.”
“One more question.” Springer parried another swing, now gripping his sword with both hands. “If you’re here, where are they? Looks like you’ve got your whole crew right here on Earth.” He fought off two more strikes, awaited Cop-Tor’s response and didn’t receive one. “Well?”
“Where the Guardians are, is none of your concern.” He readied both blades with a concentration Springer didn’t previously have, “No more questions.”
Springer felt his hopes sag a little upon hearing the icy declaration. He sighed, “No, I guess not.” He readied his sword once more, gripping the hilt with the fullest concentration he could muster, awaiting the attack.

***********

Back off gruesome!” Arcee fired a shot that winged off Crasher’s shoulder. Her laughing came to an abrupt halt. She turned around slowly and Arcee lit her with three more shots. “Get away from Hot Rod, he’s not your type.”
Crasher’s eyes narrowed, a sneer pulled at her lips. “A pink female robot, how quaint.”
“Right.” Arcee transformed and cranked her engine to full throttle. “Care to test your mettle?” She spun her wheels and kicked up a cloud of blackened dust and exhaust. Crasher reverted to her new car mode and spun her own tires in response, Hot Rod was forgotten. This pink retro-mouse reminded her of SmallFoot and Sparky, pitiful little girls who always needed help when the going got rough. Crasher howled a deep, throaty laugh and bolted towards Arcee. The little fem did the same. She had gone less than fifty feet before transforming and shredding the road before Crasher with gunfire.
“Nice try, it’s been done.” Crasher entered into a violent spin inches before reaching the torn road and launched herself into the air. She made it halfway over the stretch of road before noticing a red blinking light beneath her.
Arcee smiled to herself as the bomb exploded. She’d shot it into the ground and hoped Crasher wouldn’t notice. The Renegade flew backwards and smashed into the ground, smoke curling off her shoulders. Arcee raced towards Crasher, gun drawn and at the ready. She saw the thick female rear back her legs as she neared, then lurched forward and sprang into a standing position in a swift motion. Her feet came alive inches from the ground and sent dual lines of crackling energy ripping towards Arcee, who dropped another bomb in her hand and tossed it at the approaching energy. The explosion destroyed a large patch of roadway and sent waves of smoke into the air. Arcee paused and listened. Laughter filled the cloud, her eyes darted about trying to pinpoint its location. She heard an engine roar a split second before Crasher spun from the cloud and collided with her. She was thrown to the ground and saw black as Crasher rolled on top of her, tires mashing against her smaller frame. Crasher came to a sudden halt, then spun her tires against Arcee’s midsection as she reversed gears and backed over her. Arcee screamed and forced herself to get to her feet, body racked with pain and marred by tire burns. Crasher shifted into robot form, and before Arcee could notice the steady glow coming from Crasher’s foot it was too late. The Renegade spun and drove the flat of her foot into Arcee’s face. With no ground to filter the charge, the energy unleashed its full wrath upon Arcee in a blinding wall of pain. Pink paint charred and flaked away from her torso. Crasher’s bulkier frame carried both of them forward, she landed with a crash atop Arcee, who was no longer moving. Spikes of leftover charge leapt from the Autobot’s body as she lay limp before Crasher, who placed her hands to her hips and threw her head back, a hysterical laugh escaping her…

**************

Springer came close to spurting a string of profanities. His hands were killing him, and every strike from Cop-Tor he parried brought him closer and closer to exhaustion. With both hands he brought his sword up and blocked Cop-Tor’s dual blades, feeling a striking numbness take hold of his thumb and forefinger. His sword wavered, and Cop-Tor could sense his pending victory. He pulled the swords back, their edges glistening, hungry for metal.
“I was wrong about you, Autobot, you were almost worth the effort.”
“Can’t tell you how comforting that is.” Springer replied, not certain how he was going to get himself out of this mess. Cop-Tor prepared to move in for the killing blow when the sound of another chopper cut through the still air. Cop-Tor paused, confused. He didn’t call for backup…
As it turned out, the newcomer was backup- for Springer. Blades transformed with an angry yell and thrust a pair of guns at the GoBot, squeezing off three rounds without aiming. Two went wild, Cop-Tor slashed through the third coming his way. Anger swelled within him, he grit his teeth and readied his swords.
“Not much of a talker are ya?” Blades aimed and fired again, “Good, I don’t have to listen to you blather on while I blow a hole in your-” In the blink of an optic and flash-clang of metal, Blades found his weapons sliced in half and Cop-Tor behind him. Blades didn’t think and pulled his rotor from his back, swinging the length of sharp metal in a wide arc. Cop-Tor X’d his swords and caught the attack. He forced the blade down between his two and thrust a straight kick into Blades’ chest. Driven back, Blades growled and corrected himself, then rushed forward, rotor blade in hand. Springer felt the strength in his hands returning thanks to the short rest and found a firm grip on his sword, then raced to join Blades. Together the two brought their weapons down upon Cop-Tor, who swung his blades upward and caught their strikes. They stood fixed in the air, their battle paused as each member of this three way dance considered the stakes. Springer felt the familiar ach returning to his hands and tried to push it aside. Cop-Tor knew it would only be a matter of time, and looked forward to ending the handicap. Blades’ mind was a storm of anger, he had friends on the shuttle these psychos destroyed, he was itching to take out this murderous GoBot and move onto another. He screamed and pulled his blade back, then swung down, glad to see Springer follow suit. Cop-Tor matched them without missing a beat. Light glinted off the flashing blades as the three dueled, neither gaining a clear advantage at first. The stalemate ended with an abrupt sound of Bent metal and a scream. Blades felt a sensational pain thrashing its way up his arm. Cop-Tor’s sword lay at its origin, buried deep within Blades’ elbow joint. It sparked as severed gyros ground against one another. Cop-Tor fended off another strike from Springer and ran his free sword straight through Blades’ shoulder. Wrenching it loose he hammered the back of his foe’s head and sent him careening towards the ground and out of sight. A red flash came from Cop-Tor’s eyes and he turned towards Springer while reversing the grip on his blade. He moved once more to behead the Autobot hovering so defiantly before him. Foresight of the act came, but was accompanied by a strong-sounding voice from below, near the vicinity Blades had fallen.
“Protectobots, UNITE!”
A bright burst of light rose and forced both Springer and Cop-Tor to shelter their eyes. Springer smiled, “Hot Spot, you safety dog…”
As the light faded Defensor appeared, rising with a purpose burning in his eyes.
“Playtime’s over.” He swatted Cop-Tor with a swift backhand. A popping metallic ‘clang’ sounded, and Cop-Tor’s consciousness left him. He fell on a skewed angle like a meteor, friction crawling across his body and raising its temperature.

**************

Crasher finished laughing and watched Arcee a moment to see if the fem would dare rise again. She hoped she would. It wasn’t often Crasher got to fight other females, much less any of these Transformer fems. There was no movement from Arcee, prompting another cackle from Crasher as she threw her hands towards the sky, “And the winner, by way of technical butt-stomping; CRASHER!!” A hum sounded and made her suddenly turn to check Arcee. No, she wasn’t the cause, which now seemed to be getting closer. She stood, hand on ample hips trying to detect the sound’s origin when Cop-Tor slammed into her from behind, sending both into a loud and painful tumble. Crasher’s systems went into shock as she tried to pull herself free. A pained laugh escaped her, “Hey… next time… watch… where you’re falling…”
She passed out.

*****************

The sound of explosions tore through the air, followed by a terrible thunder. At the source of it was Metroplex and Thruster, their battle had become physical again. Metroplex held the massive transport over his head, preparing to toss. She clapped her hands down over his right eye and he let her fly, bringing a hand to his now damaged optic as she hit the ground and caused a quake. She tried to stand and he was on her, grasping her hands, trying to keep her from firing her main cannons again. Her head began to glow, a brilliant flash of green that blinded Metroplex but did not cause him to loosen his grip. Then the pain hit, sudden and sharp as Thruster once more assaulted his onboard computers. She wasn’t trying to scramble them anymore; he sensed things locking up and threatening to shut down. He pulled her to her feet, drew back his fist-and felt himself halt. She was going after his higher motor functions, tapping into his arms. He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. She crashed a curled fist into his face, pulled back and did it again. His other hand still gripped hers, she tried to snatch free and couldn’t. Visibly agitated, she took aim with her forearm cannon and prepared to fire.
Metroplex glared at her. She hadn’t disabled his remaining forehead cannon. It charged quickly, swiveled and fired as she did the same. The explosion damaged her forearm and disabled the weapon in a bright flash.
A message from Defensor rang in Metroplex’s audio.
“Metroplex, I’m coming to help!”
“No-” Metroplex started to respond and was cut short by a hammering blow from Thruster. The idea of Defensor attacking Thruster was ludicrous, like a fly attacking a stealth bomber… A flash from Thruster’s green eyes caught his attention. There was a sentience in that stare, driving away any thoughts he had earlier of Thruster being a simple mechanical weapon. It was aware. She rocked his head back with another punch and he fought to remain conscious.

***************

Thruster was silent throughout her assault on Metroplex. In truth she did not speak or try to speak because she didn’t know if she could. Being a drone machine of war suddenly given the gift of sentient thought was something she did not fully understand yet. So she simply did what she was told. Having absorbed the technology of Rougestar as well as its titanic mass, she had become the Renegade’s new flagship, dwarfing the various other upgraded Thrusters. She did not know if the Renegades knew of her newfound acquisition of thought- no one had spoken to her as if they did, they simply gave her orders like they always had. As far as she knew, none of the other Thrusters had been endowed with thought, none of them had responded to her silent queries through communications- or had simply not known how to respond. For the time being, Thruster knew only herself to be capable of the thought process the living GoBots possessed, maybe it was better that way.
Her thoughts flickered. Now was not the time for thought and self-reflection, it was a time of war- one they had started, and one they would finish. She reared back with a tight fist when she felt a hot blast of pain strike her face. The fist loosened and went to the spot for inspection when another burst of pain erupted at the base of her neck. She lifted her head and found the source of her sudden discomfort. Defensor flew to her left and fired a shot from his cannon, a satisfactory bubble of fire and smoke erupting from Thruster’s chest. She swatted at the nuisance and missed, noticing this bot looked a lot larger than the majority of the others she’d seen. A glimpse of his decidedly individualized arms and legs provided the answer; he was a combiner, much like Monstrous. As Defensor swung around for another pass she managed to yank herself free of Metroplex and stretched abruptly, catching the gestalt with both hands. Trying desperately to get away Defensor diverted his cannon’s fire to her thumb with no success. He felt horrible pressure as she began to drive her hands closer, and without warning Defensor’s chest caved in. A horrible scream echoed from Defensor as the pressure blew out his eyes, his mouth sprayed blackened fluid and a reddish cloud of smoke. His shoulder connection erupted and Blades fell half-transformed to the ground below. The sudden, extreme trauma threw the Autobots’ merged personalities into shock. Groove’s connection was lost, and he joined Blades in his fall.
Her distraction silenced, Thruster stared at the limp body in her hands, plumes of smoke puffed from the gestalt as rivulets of mech fluid oozed down her fingers. She tossed the thing away, disinterested, and Defensor hit the ground like a broken toy.

*************
Cybertron:

Fort Max’s initial clash with the merged Command Centers sent a thundering ‘BOOM’ across the city, and Fort Max began to realize that this was not the best place for this battle. Against the smaller Command Centers alone he feared doing more harm than good to the general cityscape, but this… He was rocked by a right hand and felt his headmaster’s connection crackle in protest. He stumbled back and caught himself on a nearby building. What used to serve as a medical electronic study began to bend inward as Fort Max’s fingers gripped its side for support. The combined Command Center took a step forward and drove a fist into Max’s chest. Again a thunderclap sounded as the titan pressed his assault.
Deep within the torso of the gigantic machine, a large, circular room unlocked, panels along the walls came to life and illuminated a vast array of computer equipment. They hummed briefly, displaying static, then winked out, replacing the snow with detailed images of the battles taking place on Cybertron. In the center of the chaos was the itself swinging fists with Fortress Maximus.
A door slid open, Turbo and Scooter rolled into the room. Turbo changed modes and looked around.
“Well whattaya know? Didn’t know these things could combine.” His eyes glanced back at Scooter as he pulled up beside him, still resembling a fire truck. He transformed and placed his hands on his hips. “This place is amazing.” His eyes traced the intricate machinery spread out before them, eyes darting to and fro.
“Hey, how’d you do what you did back there Scoot?”
Scooter looked at his hands, the skin flickered as a small wave of rectangular panels shifted and settled. His voice was still shaky, hesitant “I could see his schematics and… I-I’m not sure, it just kind of happened.”
Turbo grinned. “Nice.”
The sound of another engine made them spin around. SmallFoot rolled up and
skidded to a halt. She changed modes and stared at her comrades. “I don’t believe it!
SmallFoot changed modes and stood in the doorway. She craned her neck back and looked up at Turbo.
“Turbo? Gobo’s stars Turbo, you’re a house!”
“And lookit you!” He smiled and nodded at her approvingly, “You sure shrank in the wash, didn’t ya?”
She grinned and looked around, eyes widening a little, “Scooter? Is that you?”
“It’s me.” He looked pleased with himself, crossing his arms.
“I never took you as the firetruck type.”
“Because I’m not,” he unfolded his arms and raised them slightly. SmallFoot’s mouth went agape as Scooter’s metal skin came alive, waves of flipping panels redistributing his frame until her stood before her in his original form. He was a darker shade of red, the circles under his eyes black, but it was Scooter.
“That’s amazing Scoot!”
“I think I’m going to call it…” he paused, thoughtful, “Max Replico. Neat, huh?”
A violent shudder ran through the room, shaking its black metal walls as Fort Max kneed the machine in its midsection. The room shook again. The display showed Fortress Maximus nail the combined transports with a savage right. Turbo steadied himself.
“Think you can become a Command Center, we could use some extra guns against that fortress.”
Scooter shook his head, “I don’t have enough mass for that, I think I can go maybe two, three times my size tops before I spread myself too thin.”
They were silent a moment, scanning the monitors, each looking, searching for the same thing.
Finaly SmallFoot whispered, “How do you think he’s doing?”
Scooter noted the hint of concern in SmallFoot’s voice; they shared her sentiment. None of them had heard from Leader-1 since the attack on Iacon began. His eyes returned to the screen, a frown on his lips as Guardian rocked Fort Max with a shot to his temple. Turbo crossed his arms, eyes not leaving the screen.
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
“Do you think he had to change like we did?”
Turbo frowned. “What, you don’t think he could take Prime? That guy’s overrated.” He made himself stare at the monitors.
SmallFoot’s attempted smile faltered. The three of them had to fight random Autobots, and in the end they were able to escape to the safety of the Command Centers. Leader-1 was fighting Optimus Prime. She bit her lip. Optimus Prime. Her eyes dropped to the floor a moment, and she felt one of Turbo’s enlarged hands on her shoulder.
“Hey, if he did haveta’ change, that means Prime don’t stand a chance.”
“Damn no.” Scooter smirked, the expression looked wrong on his face, impish in its knowing certainty. Let’s take a closer look. “Computer-”
“Call me… Guardian.” The voice rang across the room, thick and strong, shaking the floor.
“It’s aware?” Scooter whispered, eyes darting to SmallFoot and Turbo.
“Oookay, Guardian, show us Leader-1.
“Not now.” Guardian replied, the place shook, “I’m busy.”
“Great,” Scooter folded his arms, “Not only is he aware, but he’s got an attitude.”
They tuned their full attention back to the battle at hand.

*****************

Guardian threw a right and found it caught in Fort Max’s hand. Their free hands locked, and the two titans engaged in a struggle of sheer power and will. Towering above the city, both could feel their circuits straining, the ground beneath them slumped, their indentations large enough to house a new building’s foundation. Vibrations from their bodies rocked through a ten-mile radius, and those in the near vicinity found it impossible to gain a solid footing on flat ground. The seismic activity began to wear on the surrounding structures, Fort Max caught sight of the building he had just used as a crutch topple with a loud bang and explosion of metal, dust and glass. He pressed forward, knowing his energy levels were beginning to fluctuate. Then he saw them. As if sensing his pivoting energy levels, the wall of Command Centers broke formation and began to drift apart, their path leading to an inevitable circle around himself and Guardian. A thin hum came in a wave from the curtain of shapes. Almost two dozen spheres of red lights lit up around, gathering power, diverting all available energy to their main weapons. Fort Max opened his hands and moved to pull free- and found that he couldn’t; it was a trap. He tried once more to wrench his hands from Guardian’s grasp and failed. His arm and leg cannons went online at once, marking primary and secondary targets. The crossfire began immediately. Five Centers took critical damage and fell like wounded birds of prey; secondary targets found themselves missing a leg, a cannon, nosecone, or landing gear. They bobbled uneasily in the air but maintained position. All at once the surrounding Command Centers returned fire. It felt like being caught in acid rain, the droplets drilling into his skin with a palpable malice. Fort Max felt his body jerk in several directions, taking laser fire from every angle, some of the Centers combining beams for more impact. Some targeted his joints, hitting his knees, shoulders and elbows. Smoke rose from the wounds now beginning to glow red as they neared melting point. Red spots were beginning to shine like metal sores, struck again and again by the relentless assault.

**************************
Earth:

Ultra Magnus dug his hands deep into the rocky earth, the sounds of battle drowning out his grunts. He hauled himself up using his right arm-his good arm, to do most of the work. He focused on the task, trying not to think about the damage he was causing his left by using it as a prop. The pain was intense, searing his circuits every time he jostled it. A thunderous sound shook his body; he recognized Metroplex's battle cry. He was still trying to fight that...thing attacking him. Their titanic forms blotted out any sunlight in the chasm, Magnus hoped against hope their struggles wouldn't cause them to shift a building sized limb in his direction. He'd be a smear of metal and wires and no one would be the wiser. A crescent of light broke through and taunted him, he grabbed another handful of rock, feeling his gyros strain and protest and he pulled again, nearing the edge, nearing...
He half grunted, half cried out giving himself a final boost and hoisting himself out of the hole. In the time it had taken him to free himself of the chasm, the once peaceful, isolated countryside had become a warzone. A blinding explosion went off behind him, jarring him out of his stupor. The Renegade transport, the thing Blane called 'Thruster' was engaged in a relentless assault. In the air Springer tried desperately to fend off a whizzing blue Renegade. Magnus tried to scan through the plumes of smoke crawling over the battlefield, unable to locate Hot Rod or Arcee. They were nowhere to be seen, and he failed to raise them on the com-links. Had they made it to Autobot City II? And for that matter, where was Galvatron-
A line of purple energy shot over his head, forcing him to duck instinctively. This was ridiculous, he had to get control of this situation, starting now. Magnus stood clutching his arm and headed in the direction of the blast. Surely that had to be Galvatron and Blane. He would find them, help Galvatron defeat Blane, and then-
Something lunged out of the smoke like a phantom, striking him from the right. Bright, hot pain brought bursts of color behind his eyes and he shouted, reaching for his neck. His hands settled on something alien and smooth, a curved bend of metal across his chest anchoring whatever it was that was attacking him. Something stabbed into his neck. The pain was excruciating, he could feel barbed fingers hooking into his chest and burying themselves in his helmet, sinking through and touching his skull. He screamed, grasping the thing and pulling to no avail.
Vamp dug her fangs deeper into the Autobot's throat, taking glee in his struggles. Her Mutants wanted to do this task for her, but sent them away. Sometimes nothing was more satisfying than hunting solo. She felt Magnus’ hands try to find purchase on her back and failed, slipping free of her curvature. The spurs along her legs hooked into his chest, her thin arms ended in a pair of bladed talons, which now crossed his neck and helped give her a better hold on her flailing prey. He thrashed wildly, Vamp's newly endowed Xenovirus swirling into his system.
Her eyes flared with a purple flicker at the headlights she saw cutting through the smoke. The smooth purr of an engine was barely audible over the sounds of battle raging around them. She relaxed her grip on Magnus' lovely throat-a mistake. Ultra Magnus managed to clasp a hand around Vamp's neck and in a single motion ripped her free of his body, inhaling sharplyß in pain as strips of metal yanked free along with her claws, leaving jagged scars behind. He was still yelling as he hurled her to the ground. She hissed, rolling in a controlled tumble until she lay before the wheels of the new arrival, a flawless stretched, cream-colored limousine. It resembled the newer models the humans rode around in, boasting a form that looked like it had been poured rather than welded together. The black rows of windows flashed a second before Tux changed modes, the long doors folding and coming to rest against his sides like a longcoat. His arms flared out at the cuffs, mimicking the rest of an outfit. His head rose, a smile on his lips, a gleaming silver top-hat on his head. There were deep black rims beneath his eyes, highlighting their emerald green hue. He tilted his head up, looking impassively down at the Autobot.
“Playing with your food, Vamp?”
“Something like that.” She pulled herself into a crouch, emerald skin glistening despite the dust, “He’s hurt my precious Psycho.”
Tux’s mouth remained an emphatic line. “Pity.”
Magnus’ vision grew hazy, but he could see the familiar car-shaped symbol on the newcomer’s chest, just like Blane. That was all he needed. He leveled a shoulder mounted missile at the target and prepared to fire when his systems seized up. His insides felt like a claw was jammed into his body, grabbed a handful of his systems and began wrenching them. He shuddered and dropped to his knees, hands flat on the ground as he tried to keep his body from convulsing. He retched; a bright gelatinous substance welled up in his throat and filled his mouth. Hard crystalline bits were mixed into the substance and tore at his innards. It spilled from his jaws in bubbling clumps, opaque orange streaked with black smears. Magnus brought a hand to his mouth and the foul gel clumped and oozed to the ground in a flat patter. It leaked from his nose and dripped to the dirt. His joints quivered and began hemorrhaging fluid, Magnus tried to stand and could feel the gritty clotting substance sealing his joints. He strained, desperate to at least raise his head, but could feel his neck joint locking in place. What did that Renegade do to him? His vision blurred, threatening to shut off. He caught sight of the side flaps of Tux's robot overcoat lift and point towards him, revealing two large rectangular slits that began to glow. The ground vibrated, Tux’s weapon emanating hints of sonics combined with plasma energy. With the slightest hint of a smile, Tux fired. Magnus' world filled with a bright orange flash, a loud cacophony thundered in his audio, a searing pain in his forehead, then darkness.

*********
Cybertron:

SmallFoot caught sight of the massive cannons straddling Fort Max’s hips begin to unlock from their safety position and move towards Guardian.
“We’ve got a problem.” She pointed towards the red lengths of metal. Turbo frowned.
“This’ll take it.” he patted the wall beside the screen, eliciting a flat clang. “This bad boy’ll hold up in a cosmic maelstrom.”
Scooter’s arms were crossed tight, his eyes glued to the screen. “We’ve been lucky so far. I say screw luck. We saw what that fortress could do to the other Command Centers. Guardian’s holding his own, but those cannon’s will turn the tide. We should help.” He was frowning, brows knitted like Turbo’s when he was in a foul mood, “Besides, I’m sick of sitting here like a piece of deadwood.” He punched one hand into the other, “I wanna go kick some a-”
SmallFoot raised a hand towards the screens “What are we going to do, we can’t drive into the cannons and blow them up.”
“Why not?”
“He’s bigger than a city! There’s no one in the middle of this, even the Transformers are keeping their distance.”
“More than one way to help.” Scooter sat behind a set of controls and ran his fingers over the keys. “We may not be city sized, but we’ve got control of a few things that are just as good.”
Command Center 4891 raised its head, lines of diagnostic code raced across its visor and its systems clicked over from autopilot to remote. It tilted its head and roared, visor ablaze.
“We’re in.” Scooter continued clicking the keys of the console as Turbo and SmallFoot looked on. He tapped the screen. “The Command Centers are automatically attacking the Fortress, but I’ve patched into the one closest to the battle. Now we can help.”

4891 lifted its head and roared again, charging towards the titanic fortress. Code continually raced across its visor as it made for its target. The cannons on Fort Max had swung forward and now glowed as energy gathered within their bowels. The ground shook as 4891 galloped forward, teeth bared, claws digging great grooves into the planet.

Fortress Maximus felt his hip cannons come online, holding Guardian in a deadlock as he took aim. He puzzled over the erratic actions of one of the Command Centers, it was not moving like the others. He diverted targeting of his leg cannons towards the transport, hoping to dispatch it quickly in case-
Guardian pressed into him, he couldn’t afford to hesitate any longer.
Fort Max fired at full power, and screamed as the strange Command Center lunged and clamped its jaws on his right cannon. It bit down and crushed the metal, blocking the flow of energy. The right side of his hip exploded and vaporized the head and torso of 4891. A black and red geyser of flame erupted, crackling lines of energy tore through his midsection. He collapsed to one knee and Guardian reared back, a fist clenched like a wrecking ball. The impact of the blow sent a thunderclap across the city. Guardian struck him again, and Fort Max felt something in his neck strain again. Electricity surged at the connection point as he brought an arm up to block Guardian’s next strike. He winced as his assailant’s fist buried itself in his forearm and crushed a set of miniguns. They exploded and emitted rifts of smoke. There was so much pain slithering through his body his thoughts were becoming an incoherent jumble. But his battle instinct never wavered. Fort Max swung a fist upward and caught Guardian in the chin, then charged forward and collided with him. Guardian resisted the immeasurable amount of force and stood his ground, but felt a crunch of metal as Maximus’ arms wrapped around his midsection. He heard a harsh, clacking, grinding of gears and suddenly felt himself rise into the air.
Maximus felt the horrific wave of pain where his cannon exploded, but clamped his teeth together and hauled Guardian above his head. From a distance the two looked like primordial forces of nature, galactic guardians engaged in mortal combat. Fortress Maximus threw Guardian over his back and fell to one knee, watching as the titanic combiner’s body doubled in a half flip and hit Cybertron’s surface with the sound of a nuclear explosion. A deep canyon sunk beneath Guardian’s body, a series of quakes rocked the land around him. Maximus forced himself to stand, a hand clutching the expanding wound at his hip. Thick plumes of charred smoke squirted through his bulky fingers, refusing to be contained. His eyes lingered on Guardian, a single thought burning at the forefront of his mind: Defend Cybertron. Protect Cybertron.
He raised an open hand towards the heavens, body and mind synchronized by need.
Inside, energy meters jumped and bobbed, hitting their maximum peaks as energy concentrated itself within Fort Max’s being. In an instant they stabilized, allowing him the energy flux needed to bring this battle to an end. Lightening jumped from his palm as he roared “ MASTER SWORD!”
The lightening took form in his hand, red and black metal stretched from a lengthy hilt he now clasped firmly. When the storm of energy subsided, Fortress Maximus stood, Master Sword in hand. His wounds ran deep, and even now the weight of the sword was beginning to take its toll, but he knew this was it. This conflict would end now. He watched Guardian rise, he moved faster than he should have, but it didn’t matter now. Maximus drew the massive weapon back, then charged.

Thunder sounded across Iacon as Maximus approached his target. He swung the titanic weapon and watched as a dull red aura trailed behind it, slashing a startlingly deep gash in Guardian’s chest. Fort Max staggered back after the strike, a hand reaching for the wound on his hip that still leaked smoke and fire, thick cracks in his metal skin reaching up and through his entire frame. Maximus swung the blade once more and made a second diagonal rip across Guardian’s chest. Once more the Autobot stumbled backwards after the strike, but took comfort in seeing the claw-like scars ripped across his opponent’s chest. Guardian saw Maximus coming for him again and waited for the attack to come, waited… A loud scream erupted from Maximus as he spun with the Master Sword again and Guardian took a sudden step backwards, exposing a free-standing building to Maximus’ wrath. The GoBot felt a rush of wind off the sword lined up perfectly with his neck. Had the swing connected, Guardian would have been a headmaster of sorts himself. Both robots watched the Master Sword cleave straight through the Cybertronian structure, leaving only a thin line visible before its top portion slid towards the ground, toppling as metal and Primus knew what else crumbled upon impact. The Master Sword stabbed into Cybertron’s surface upon completion of the swing.

Inside Guardian, Scooter still sat at his console. He no longer typed, his hands were pressed flat on either side, a series of cables snaked fromhis fingertips and linked him directly to Guardian’s remote command of the other Centers. Turbo and SmallFoot sat behind similar consoles, both taking control of the few Command Centers remaining. They would need them.

Fort Max glanced up and saw another Command Center racing towards him. Its mouth opened and fired a blast of crackling energy. The Master Sword ripped from the ground and cleaved through the attack, dispersing the energy and slashing through the Center’s mouth in a single motion. It squawked and hitched backwards, its front claws pawing the air as it fell on its side.

Guardian rushed forward and rocked Maximus hard with a right hand. Another Command Center raced forward and clamped its muzzle down on Fort Max’s leg, teeth tearing deep into his armored skin. Guardian reared back and struck him again as yet another Center slammed into the Fortress from behind. The sudden force threw Fort Max off balance, he yelled as multiple rows of teeth latched onto his arm, the Command Centers clustered about him like rabid wolves. Energy still surged from the Master Sword, but dimmed when his arm was torn away with a horrible screech of metal. The majestic weapon fell and stabbed into the ground still alight with power. Once more Guardian drove a glowing fist into the already gaping wound from the destroyed cannon, sending Maximus to his knees again. Fort Max made for the sword and Guardian slammed a closed fist into his chest, rolling the titan onto his back.
Now standing firmly between the sword and its owner, Guardian locked his gaze upon Fortress Maximus. For a moment the two remained still, then Fort Max’s remaining hip cannon came alive. Guardian moved to back away from the shot as a snarling Center leapt onto Fort Max, forcing his shot off-target. Guardian lunged for the cannon and clasp it firmly in his hands. He wrenched his body backwards and heard the loud squeal of metal protesting his intention. He yanked again and heard it. A satisfying crack threaded through the maroon cylinder of metal comprising Fort Max’s cannon and finally, the weapon broke with a resounding clang.
Fort Max shouted and hauled the Command Center off of him, regaining his footing as Guardian bore down in a sharp arc and buried the jagged end of the cannon deep into his shoulder. He jerked the weapon suddenly, and much too forcefully to the right. With an explosion of lightening and fire the cannon cracked again, then broke in half. Its top section remained jutting from Fort Max’s shoulder joint; Guardian still clutched the remaining part by the makeshift hilt. Shards of the cannon rained down from above and stabbed into anything in their path.
Guardian reversed his hold on the remaining spike of metal and raised it with both hands like a knife. The jagged ends of the fractured cannon looked like the uneven teeth of a wild beast as they thrust down upon their target, biting into Fort Max’s chest. It tore through layers of metal and circuitry, showing no hints of stopping until Guardian’s hands clanged against his chest. An explosion went off at the point of entry, throwing a harsh film of orange light against Guardian. He watched the eyes of his foe flash from blue to red, and then fade back as a series of smaller eruptions ignited within. Smoke and fire sprayed from his wounds and soon crawled down the seams lining his neck connection. He clamped his teeth together and first felt, then saw the reddish cloud of smoke squirting out from between the cracks. Fort Max could feel energy tearing into his complex network of mechanisms and assaulting his headmaster connection. Guardian took note of the damage taking place within Fort Max and balled a cruel fist. He swung and caught the Autobot flush in the face, a blow he didn’t expect to do much damage but found it was enough to tilt his opponent back on a wild angle. The pain etched on his face was surreal as his hands curled into trembling hooks and reached for his head. A ring of electric fire raced across his neck, and Fort Max’s head blew clear off his body.

************

He lay in a thick patch of darkness kindly granted by the loss of an optic lens. His left had blown out; the right barley functioned. He couldn’t feel his left leg or arm, and presumed he lost them in the sudden separation from his body. Fortress, proud leader of the Autobot Headmasters tried to raise his head and focus on the body he had been torn from. He lay near the city’s edge, he saw the line of destruction he caused in his landing. He winced, then looked with a longing remorse at the defenseless thing standing before Guardian, knowing that with the amount of damage received it couldn’t possibly revert to city mode, much less fortress form without him to power it. His vision blurbing in and out, Fortress looked down at his ravaged body. He could just barely make out a large lump of gnarled metal that used to serve as the connection point for his legs. He was wrong about not being able to feel just one; they had both deserted him. Maybe Wheeljack could fix those later. He watched Guardian move towards the headless body and lifted his foot, intent on kicking the thing over. The body, slowly becoming engulfed in flames, lurched to the side. Fortress couldn’t understand at first, and shook when the Gobot combiner’s foot crashed down, missing its target. Was he simply hallucinating, thinking he was still fighting the good fight? The body moved with a jerky imprecision, lights about its arm and legs blowing out and flickering across the levels and it leaned back on a wild angle, as if life had simply left it to fall. Guardian took a bold step forward, fist brandished and glowing, intent on finishing the remains of his opponent. Fortress began to realize the onboard sensors of his body were still carrying out their primary functions, its mission-to protect Cybertron, running through every circuit of its systems. He couldn’t help but force a weak smile as it suddenly rushed forward, its remaining arm extended and grasping for Guardian, then collided with him. The impact was deafening, and the two metal leviathans fell into the city as Maximus’ body exploded
A hellish glare covered Fortress and a number of buildings as his internal systems began to spasm. He raised a shaking, outstretched hand towards the flaming tower of what was once his body, a sad, grim smile upon his face.
“Well fought my friend.”
He could see the crimson glare of the Master Sword, still jutting from the ground amongst the flames.
“Well fought.”
Fortress’ head sagged, and the light faded from his eyes.

To be continued…