Cybertron:

The remains of Iacon were caught in the bold silhouette against the series of eruptions. A thick wall of rippling heat slammed into both Prime and Leader-1 through the hole in the building and forced them both to throw their hands up in a protective gesture. When it stopped, both beheld only a handful of Command Centers barely standing amidst the wreckage. Guardian had been forced to separate, Command Centers G1 and G2 looked like wounded bison taking their last walk through the plains. Fortress Maximus was nowhere to be seen.
Leader-1 turned towards the scene and Prime noted there was no look of triumph, no joy, not even a look of satisfaction. The Gobot looked back at him, then the city, and made for the hole. Prime’s gun came to life in an instant, he fired a shot that exploded into the wall beside Leader-1. He moved after him, weapon smoking, barely able to form the words as he pointed the barrel at Leader-1’s face.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
Leader-1’s fists were alight as Prime walked in front of the only exit from the building. It was shaking terribly now, its ruptured foundation crumbling. It strained under its own weight and would soon topple.
“Get out of my way.”
Prime’s optics narrowed. Why was he trying to leave? “Like you said, Leader-1, you know that isn’t going to happen.”
Leader-1 sprang at Optimus and clasped the barrel of the gun in his hands, pushing it towards the ceiling. Prime yanked the weapon forward and lashed out with his free hand, smashing a fist into Leader-1’s visor. The gobot fired a shot from his hands as he recoiled, it winged Prime’s cannon and knocked it free as the thrusters in Leader-1’s feet ignited. He lifted and shot forward, smashing into Prime and driving him into the wall. Leader-1 increased the propulsion, intent of driving them both through> the building if need be, when a bright orange flash and a sudden, searing pain caused him to scream and yank himself away. Prime glared at him, a bright orange axe replaced his hand. He grabbed Leader-1’s shoulder and pulled his forward as he brought the axe upwards, digging a jagged slash into Leader-1’s chest. Newly developed circuitry was exposed and damaged, sparking wildly as Leader-1 crashed a glowing fist against Prime’s mask and made him stagger back, axe reverting to hand again.
Leader-1 shifted into his new alternate form and for a moment Prime was amazed by the new aircraft before him. The GoBot’s jet mode reminded him of Cyclonus, wings curled in half moons, a thin neck lurching from the cockpit with two extra wing flares jutting from the nose. Prime’s observation halted when Leader-1’s takeoff thrusters engaged and he moved to dive out of his way. He was a half-second too late. As his body moved to the left, he felt a painful stab of slick metal spike through his midsection. Skewered upon the tip of Leader-1’s wing, the two tore free of the building and ripped across the sky. Prime grunted as the wingtip punched through his lower back, the velocity pushing him further and further along the spike.
Leader-1 said nothing, he just kept accelerating. The wind speed pushed Prime’s body further onto Leader-1’s wing spike, he forced his hands to wrap around and inch by inch, tried to draw himself back. With an angry grunt he pushed off, his audio ringing as Leader-1 broke the sound barrier with a thunderclap that shook the remaining buildings in Iacon. The shockwave slammed into Prime and flung him like a ragdoll. He spun, crashed through the corner of a crumbling tower, bounced off the side of another, then smashed through a pair of glass doors that once welcomed both Autobot and Decepticon during their peace talks. His body hit hard and refused to move, forcing him to lie there and take in the destruction raging across the now demolished city.

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

“I see him!”
SmallFoot shouted and thrust a finger at a cracked monitor. The lights in Command Center G1 had only begun working again minutes ago, the impromptu separation from Command Center G2 had caused serious damage to both. Sparks crackled across a few of the screens, the control panels lit and dimmed as the systems rebooted. Large cracks marred their bodies, and they stood with an uneven shakiness. The central voice of Guardian himself hadn’t spoken since the split. Scooter pulled himself off the floor and peered up at the monitor. Turbo laughed, “See, told ya he’d be fine!”

Smoke trailed from Leader-1’s wound as he cleared the distance between him and the now separated Guardian. The landscape, red and charred black blurred past him until he came upon Command Center G1, it appeared more functional than the others. As he neared, his systems came alive and sent streaming rivulets of emerald energy racing across his body. He screamed, thrown off course by the intensity of the pain ripping across his mind.
“You disappoint me, Leader-1.”
Unicron’s voice boomed in his head, drowning out everything in the world around him. He could feel the crushing weight of the dark god’s impatience, his frustration. Every word felt like a knife in his mind, the pain he endured during his battle with Prime paled in comparison.
“No,” he gasped, “not now… gahhhh!”
“You were supposed to cripple Cybertron. I want Cybertron.”
“I… know... what… I’m doiiiinnnngggggg…”
Leader-1 dropped, attempted to regain altitude, then fell and collided with the ground, scraping a wide patch of metal until finally coming to a halt before the dark gray Command Center. The Guardians onboard watched in shock as Leader-1 folded into robot form and lay curled up and shaking, his teeth clenched but his lips looked like he was trying to form words.
“Get ‘im aboard!” Turbo plunked down behind one of the consoles again and began tapping keys, “Guardian! Get Leader-1 IN HERE!” he shouted, raising a fist in anger when nothing happened.
“Wait!” Scooter rushed over to him and typed in the correct sequence while letting out a sigh. Some things never changed. “With Guardian… recovering, I guess, we gotta do it manually.”
A beam of red light flashed from the Command Center, illuminating Leader-1 and transporting him aboard.
He fell in a heap in the center of the room, SmallFoot ran to his side and knelt as he shuddered. Turbo and Scoot were on their feet and in a flash, joining her. Leader-1 opened his eyes, groaned, and stood abruptly. He looked around at them. “You... you made it... so glad you’re… all okay.” He inhaled sharply and clasped his chest, the wound crackled angrily as he took a step back and leaned against the wall.
“You had to change!” Scooter’s eyes raced over Leader-1 new form, noting the improvements over his old body, but began running scans of his injuries from his battle with Prime.
“You’re hurt!” SmallFoot moved to reach for Leader-1’s scar and he held out a hand to stay her.
“Welcome back, Leader-1.” Guardian’s repairs completed themselves, his voice boomed through the speakers. “I am Guardian. What are your orders?”
Thrown by the Command Center’s newfound sentience, but little surprised, Leader-1 remained as he was, head bowed.
“We’ve done… what we needed to…to do. Guardian, maximum power to shields. Get us out of here.”
The dark Command Center rose, surrounded by the remaining transports. Energon fires had broken out in a crisscrossing pattern of destruction. Pillars of blackened smoke collected in the sky and cast a dingy haze over the city.
Explosions rocked the ship as they rose, no doubt there were long range weapon stations intent on grounding them. The Centers continued returning fire and taking aim at the sources of the resistance, but aim was no longer a priority. When they entered Cybertron’s atmosphere they ignited thrusters and pulled off into space.
Turbo looked down, a frown on his face, “Y’know, they’re never gonna forgive us fer this.”
“I know Turbo.” Leader-1 sighed, then clasped his chest and hissed as another spark ripped across his wound, “I know.”

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

Prime tried to move his fingers, relieved to find that he still could. A concentrated effort allowed him to use his arms; his legs followed, glass crunched beneath his feet as he stood. One of his knees buckled, prompting him to grasp the bent doorway for support. He could still see the two main Command Centers sporting a variety of battle scars, but they were functional. Both hovered above Iacon and began to fade from view, their stealth shielding kicking in and causing large blobs of visual distortion. The others followed, and Prime saw a shower of artillery fire launching from the outskirts of the city, Autobots from outside Iacon were making their way towards the battle site in force, clearly they had no intention of letting the Gobots cut and run. But so much damage had been done, so many weapon caches destroyed in the battle… The Command Centers continued to lift, firing still as they retreated, then faded into the darkness.
They were gone.
As quickly as the battle had started, it ended. Autobots from across Cybertron flooded into the ruins of Iacon, shoveling through the rubble in search of their allies and friends. Topspin and Twintwist helped Blaster and Jazz as they carried Gears and Ironhide towards an off-site medical lab. Firestar immediately began dousing the fires, trying to keep them from spreading any further while Moonracer searched for those immobilized in the attack. Inferno lay on his side, still clutching the wounds Turbo inflicted. Red Alert fashioned a makeshift patch, staring up at the sky as it swam with a cluster of shimmering lights that flickered, then vanished.

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

Prime’s eyes went to the ground he knelt upon. The fires raging around him didn’t register, his thoughts lingered on the day’s events. He marveled over how fast, how readily everything had gone straight to hell- because of him. The GoBots had been repaired, given sanctuary, offered assistance against Unicron because he ordered it so. Slowly he forced himself to look up at the destruction around him, and against the glare of the fires he could still see the animalistic sneer Leader-1 wore at the start of their battle.
“My fault…” Prime whispered, a hand sought the gash in his midsection and remained there, “All... my fault…”
“Optimus!”
He heard the voice from far away and wondered who it was. His audio receptors still crackled with interference from the sonic boom.
“Optimus!”
Female… very familiar… It occurred to Prime that he was very tired. Wounds in his shoulders, his arms, legs and midsection each vied for his attention. He... he just needed to rest for awhile... just a little while.
“Optimus?!”
He heard tires rolling across the ground, the sound of a transformation. A few clicks in his head tapped together and formed a recollection. “E-Elita?”
“Optimus! Thank Primus I found you! Are you alright?! Did you see what the GoBots just…”
Optimus wondered what was wrong with his optics; they were singed with a darkness slowly descending over the world. The pain in his body screamed and diminished at the same time, and though he swore he could hear Elita a moment ago, her words were no longer audible even though he could see her lips moving. Elita’s eyes went wide, her words trailed off as she watched his head slowly tilt to the side, his optics fading from blue to black. His legs gave out and he fell. Optimus lay before her, unconscious….

*********

Gobotropolis:

The uppermost level of the new Gobotropolis brimmed with an audible energy rippling across its surface. Beneath the layers of interlocking Gobotronian metal, shifting plates of rock and dirt gave way to yet more expanses of metal. A tremendous dark sphere rested within its center, black and slick, its surface marred with irregular vents and pockets of green and amber lights. They pulsed and flickering in irregular intervals, shifting and blinking in response to the constant adjustments Unicron tried to make. This planet, though he considered it beneath his attention, its population unworthy of his regard, was becoming an intriguing and frustrating enigma to him.
Every tunnel and corridor within the black sphere led to one point. An expansive room consisting of multiple planes of metal stretched out from an ornate throne. It was a horrid creation, fashioned to resemble a cluster of mechanoids twisting and writing in agony. Their eyes were wide, questionably alive and frozen in a horrific moment in time. A single machine rested upon the abomination, red and black metal covered most of its body. Its hands ended in large, thick black claws, its middle digit giving off an emerald glow. Its feet were large, silver talons split in four separate directions. They absently gripped the ground before the thing while in deep thought. Yellow and green flames of energy flared from small, slit vents scattered across its hulking mass. It had no face, only a slick, black bend of metal that rested beneath a wide, blood red helmet detailed with dark lines of circuitry. Two demonic horns grew from either side, a forked spike of crimson metal jutted from its chin.
Zeemon was once the highest-ranking official of the Gobotron Council, now he served as a vessel for the dark god.
He had been the first, the original prototype Gobot, the first true fusion of humanoid and machine. And he had been a mistake, his internal energy systems flash-evolved the capability to convert any type of fuel introduced to his systems into raw energy. Unchecked, Zeemon was capable of destruction on a city-wide scale without realizing what he was doing, so he repressed knowledge of his own capabilities. He told no one, and tried to drown out the data files in his own head with layers of code. But the knowledge always resurfaced, refusing to be forgotten no matter how many creative ways he tried to wipe away even the slightest temptation to use his dangerously unique ability. It became increasingly difficult during the war. He knew a wanton display of too much energy had the potential to make things worse than they already were. Had he used the well of energy within him, there was a very real chance of the Renegades trying to match him, or use him; corrupting his mind and causing more destruction and death in their wake. So he concealed it, kept it hidden from every Gobot, even his Guardians. He constantly attempted to make himself seem weaker than he actually was, always justifying his actions, his well-intended deceptions with single phrase he repeated to himself like a mantra:

Appearances were everything.

Though he hated war, a low level one was preferable to a potential apocalypse. But Unicron was no fool; in a diagnostic scan of the population it was easy to see Zeemon’s energy spiked levels above every Gobot on the planet. Unicron didn’t know how the official had acquired such a vast supply of energy, nor did he care. Zeemon’s combined might and structural potential made him the perfect host. When he first allowed his essence to leap into Gobotropolis and decimate the Gobot armada, it was Zeemon he plucked from the wreckages. He had burned through most of the energy he initially pulled from Gobotron, redirecting the planet’s energies against its inhabitants during their last stand. The rest he poured into Zeemon pulling him deep into their world as he made his proposal to the ravaged Leader-1. He wrapped Zeemon in layer upon layer of dark Gobotronian metal, prodding the Gobot’s change to move along the evolutionary course he desired. He used the last of his power to merge his essence with Zeemon while he developed in a makeshift cocoon, then allowed himself to drift into darkness, content with his work, knowing that now all that was left-was to wait. When he emerged, he found his new form much more pleasing than he expected, although like any creature emerging from a cocoon, he still felt weak… and hungry, so very hungry.

A web of cables and wires snaked from various ports along the throne room and plugged into his massive new body. The ring he projected from Gobotropolis actively siphoned off energy from the cosmos, minute trickles of power wafting through space were pulled in and converted into a usable fuel. Various bulbs of metal studding the ring attempted to yank what solar energy they could, although nothing was a true replacement from the sustenance derived from an actual planet. The lines of energy dripping into him were aggravating threads of dissipating flavor. His ire deepened with every sip of power, never enough for him to truly relish, only a slight bit to whet his infinite appetite. This was the first enigma to test the dark god’s patience. He has specifically selected Zeemon as his host, not only because of his heightened level of power, but because of the energy magnification capabilities the gobot possessed. And yet he could not access that ability. He scanned the pitiful being’s robotic components, searching for a trigger, a stretch of code needed to simply switch the talent ‘on’, and found nothing. It was an annoying distraction, one he hadn’t expected from this odd creature, nor had he expected to encounter organic elements within a race that appeared completely robotic. A minor annoyance, his original body contained organics as well. Any potential resistance to his complete and utter control would be dealt with. He was Unicron, and, his will was absolute. The cables thrummed sporadically as he drew the miniscule lines of energy and reflected on his past actions.

They were so easily manipulated, these Gobots. Cy-Kill and his goons too eager to believe, Leader-1 so conflicted, so desperate to save his pitiful world. It was all so simple, he was the one responsible for the Guardians and Renegades coming together, and together they would do his bidding. Though his energy still waned, he could only smile internally at the brilliance of his initial deceit. Eons of dealing with lesser beings taught Unicron what he considered to be one of the most crucial and important contributors to triumph:

Appearances were everything.

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

Blurr reached the communications level of Autobot City II's tower and tumbled into Blaster's broadcast room. He sighed, not one of relief, but edgy frustration, realizing he had no clue how anything in the room worked. Lights and buttons lay out carefully across a series of control panels hummed and clicked busily, maintaining... whatever it was that they were maintaining. This was Blaster’s personal setup. Blurr found his mind whirring faster than usual, wondering how his comrades were doing, wondering why this attack came so suddenly out of the blue, and- since when was there such a spanning view from the tower?
Curious, the overanxious Autobot made his way over to a large curved window that must have given Blaster a panoramic view, Metroplex included. At the moment he could see Metroplex trading blows with the Renegade ship. The metal beneath his feet vibrated slightly every time they connected. It was surreal. A series of eruptions gave indication to Blane and Galvatron's battle, with thunderous snarls and growls clawing their way across the landscape as Abominus fought the gobot combiner Monstrous.
Blurr watched the melee, transfixed on the chaos, wondering how so much could happen so suddenly. For a moment his mind reeled back to the Decepticon attack in 2005, how unexpected it had been, and how much carnage had come about because of it. He knew his friends aboard that cargo vessel were dead, he KNEW... and with that image Blurr shook his head violently and ran at the control panels, flicking switches and pressing buttons he hoped would send the proper signal to Cybertron.
"Workpleasework..." he worried aloud, "Prime, we need you..."

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

"...need you."
Prime could hear the words, spoken softly in the fog of his unconscious mind. He saw Elita mouthing the sentiment over and over. Then she began to change. The sound coming from her grew deep, dreadful coming from her changing face. The twin horns puling from her helmet began to grow and curve sharply into crescents, their color changing from pink to dull orange metal. Her face twisted into a hideous sneer a moment before her eyes shifted from blue to a sickly green, shattering with a fleshy pop and revealing black abysmal pools behind them. Prime couldn't pull his stare away from those hideous pits, seeing a mirrored reflection of himself, battle-worn and tired. The Pit-Prime stared back at him, blinked and suddenly crusted over in a green and silvery mold that soon flaked away to reveal the face of Leader-1. Prime looked down, and in the crazed Gobot's hand rested a glowing, pulsating object he knew all too well. Covered with reddish splatters, dripping with lines of blue energy, was the matrix.
"NO!"
Prime awoke with a start, bolting upright in a dark room with a single occupant at his bedside. Elita-1’s eyes were wide, filled with concern.
He stared at her a moment, the nightmare fading from memory. Even in the darkness he could see the battle scars etched across her face. The dents and cracks in her helmet hit a painful cord deep within, reminding him of the price of his bad decision. She watched him cautiously, looking him over with a gaze that matched his own.
"Are you alright-" they spoke in unison, both stopping abruptly, leaving an awkward silence between them. Prime decided not to break the wordless void between them, instead raised a hand and touched the side of her face, grimacing as he felt the nicks and dents running from chin to cheek. She placed a hand over his and closed her optics.
"I'm sorry." Prime uttered the words with a heavy sigh.
"For what," she whispered, "For trying to give another robotic race a fighting chance against Unicron? For having compassion for Leader-1?” he voice darkened with anger, “For trusting him enough to turn your back while he looked for a place to stick the knife?"
"He's desperate Elita... he's-"
"He's a lying, psychotic BASTARD!" She cried, optics flashing as she stood and pulled away from Prime. "He played us all for fools, and then he almost-!" She halted, bringing her arms up in a folded cross, hands clutching her shoulders as she turned in on herself, "He almost killed you Prime. We thought... I thought I was going to lose you."
She felt his hand on her shoulder and turned, allowing him to wrap his arms around her. They stood in the dark, holding onto one another without a word passing between them.

*********

Leader-1 stood at the bridge of Command Center G1, flanked by SmallFoot, Turbo and Scooter. The room was brightly lit, a wide, panoramic screen curved across the wall and delivered an image of the diminishing Cybertron. He watched it grow smaller, waiting, expecting at any moment for the planet itself to vent its rage and fire upon them, ending their existence. He felt sick.
“Guardian, open communications.”
At once a plethora of screens jumped to life. Various angles of various Command Centers became visible, slightly transparent and blue. Leader-1 scanned the channels. Faces appeared in screens of different sizes, a spectrum of emotions, but behind every one of them an air of concern that wavered on outright fear. They seemed taken aback by his new form, but recognized him regardless. They all asked questions. What happened? Were they okay? Were these Transformers as formidable as Unicron claimed?
Good Knight’s silver dome gleamed, he cleared his throat and cut through the clamor.
“Leader-1, thank goodness! What happened down there?”
Turbo crossed his arms, a sour expression on his face.
“We pissed em off, that’s what happened.”
Leader-1 sighed. It was the truth. “Myself, SmallFoot, Scooter and Turbo are fine. It was close, but we managed to escape after ‘changing’. We’ve lost more Command Centers than expected, and this is exactly why I only wanted the four of us to go in. We encountered the Autobots, and believe me when I tell you, they are every bit as formidable as we’ve been told.” He looked out into their anxious faces, “Unicron is right to fear them.”
More questions flew like bullets. He held up a hand, his voice grim. “Guardians, we have officially launched the first strike. Turbo’s right, to say they’re not happy right now would be the understatement of a lifetime. We hit them hard, and without warning when they didn’t suspect. They feel betrayed, they’re angry.” He ran his fingers across his battle scar absently, “And they have every right to be. They’ll come after us-in force.”
There was silence for a moment. Hans-Cuff’s expression hadn’t changed since he came online, his years of law enforcement dictated he remain calm, if not completely blank in any situation. He was silent until now. “Is that what we want?”
“Yes.”
“Leader-1?” Flip Top asked from another screen, absently rubbing a hand across his blue forearm. Ever since the change altered the layout of his helicopter sections, he fidgeted with the new additions, unhappy with the extra guns nestled beneath his skin. He hesitated, almost fearful, “What are the numbers looking like? How many of them…” an uncomfortable pause, “…died in that assault?”

**********

“No one.” Perceptor repeated. Cloudraker stood beside him, arms folded, a look of disbelief etched on his face. He thrust a finger towards Iacon, the flames still grabbing for the night sky.
“I’m telling you, there’s no way that happened and there were no casualties! We’re still pulling Autobots out of the rubble for Primus’ sake!”
“And every one of them I’ve examined has shown signs of life, however faint they may be.” He nodded towards a doorway across the room. “Even Optimus has stabilized, and Elita is functional enough to refuse a good once-over.”
Dim lights cast a soft glow in the tiny, makeshift medical shack the Autobots threw together near the edge of Iacon. It served as a first stop for any wounded transformer before being sent to Medilab-5, which rested less than a mile from the city. Perceptor’s mind was gradually becoming frazzled, they were running injured bots to him faster than he could diagnose. He had looked at Skylynx, who refused to admit he needed the main gyro in his front leg replaced until he collapsed while trying to walk away. Perceptor barely had time to rig a makeshift replacement and declare him fit for transport before being inundated with the wounded. He patched the shattered dent warping Ironhide’s face, having time to do little more than force the metal back into place and reset the Autobot’s jaw. It looked like rumpled aluminum, but at least it resembled a face again. A new eye would have to wait until supplies arrived. Blaster and Jazz insisted they weren’t too hurt to help coordinate the rescue and retrieve efforts. Now that the Command Centers were gone, communications were slowly picking up. Blaster, ignoring his own injuries, remained in his tape deck mode, Jazz helped amplify his frequency as he tried to get a fix on any Autobot who wasn’t unconscious. The interference was still terrible, but they were making do. Since then it had been constant stop and go, Perceptor running a quick diagnostic, then sending the more serious patients out to Medilab-5. He tried not to think, just work, all the while wondering if this was how Ratchet got through the hard times. Now, in this shoddy lab, if you could even call it that, he continued working on the wounded, running the numbers Blaster and Jazz provided against the data in his memory when Cloudraker approached and asked about casualties-or rather, as Perceptor corrected him, the lack thereof.
He sighed and placed a hand to his neck, rubbing it without thought, “I’ve run the numbers repeatedly. Based on my records of who was involved in the conflict, who is currently here, and who is on their way, <I>no one</I> has perished in that assault. We’re all accounted for.”
“Fort Max looked mighty perished to me.” A heavy sounding voice came from the entrance. Roadbuster stooped slightly, worked his way through the opening and stood his full height, more wide than he was tall. His bulky, green and brown frame was even larger than usual thanks to the armor he always wore. He threw Perceptor and Cloudraker in shadow. Whirl entered behind him, his blue metal a stark contrast to the single red eye on his face. He stood beside Roadbuster, sweeping the room and taking in the damage to the other Autobots.
“And they wondered why we didn’t want stinkin guard duty all the way in Hexacon.” He muttered.
Roadbuster’s hands curled, he tried to push aside the desire to place blame for them not being in Iacon during this attack. Instead, he focused on Perceptor. “If Fort Max ain’t dead, where is he?”
“He’s been stabilized in Medilab-5 just on the outskirts of the city. You probably passed it on your way here.”
Roadbuster looked unconvinced, Perceptor continued.
“Fortress Maximus’ body was destroyed, yes. Fortress himself, though, is in critical condition, but alive. Moonracer found him, he’s without his legs.”
“What about Silverbolt?”
“He and the Aerialbots are still functional. Silverbolt took the worst of it…” he paused a hand going to his chin, “And may require a trip to Torkulon to deal with any possible trauma, but they’re alive-”
“Bull-chip! I’m hearing he had a slaggin’ building dropped on him!”
“It collapsed, and it only pinned him, there was enough space left for-”
“That’s insane, how do you do what they did, and not kill anyone?” Roadbuster’s visor was an emerald glow, he was ready to boil over. “It doesn’t make any sense!”
Perceptor’s brow knitted, the events of the day, combined with seeing his closest colleagues in various states of disrepair had worn his nerves down to the bare wire.
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of some good news, Roadbuster, but regardless of how implausible it seems, I regret to re-state that no one has been KILLED!”
Roadbuster fell silent, as did Perceptor, looking about the shack to see others were staring at them. He exhaled slowly. “I-I apologize, I shouldn't shout.”
“Nah, I need to cool it… sorry... You got nothing to apologize for.” Roadbuster's voice was low, he put a hand to his helmet, “At least you’re doing something.” He clanged his fist into an open palm, “I missed it! I coulda helped!”
Cloudraker knelt beside Gears and adjusted the length of metal welded across his midsection. It would work well as a bandage until Perceptor had time to take a closer look. “Regardless, we still don’t know how the heck this is even possible. Roadbuster’s right, the whole thing makes no sense.”
Jazz's attention shifted from Blaster to the conversation. “It does if this outcome was intentional.”
"Bogus." Whirl grumbled, "I don’t buy it."
"You don’t have to buy it, but we can’t eliminate it as a possibility."
“Then what was the point? To show they could hurt us? Why launch an attack like that unless they were going to finish the job?"
"Because they didn't expect Fort Max to stomp a mudhole in those transports they were relying so heavily on!" Cloudraker looked out towards the city, "Those things were their ace and they got shredded, so they bolted."
"Maybe." Jazz rolled the questions around in his head, trying to make sense of things. "Maybe not. Whatever the reason, we ain't seen the last of them."

**********

Leader-1 waited for the storm of questions to calm, his expression caused a tide of silence to sweep the Guardians. His eyes shifted across the screens.
"Leader-1," Scooter called up a view of the surrounding area, "You need to see this." The space was littered with large hunks of scrap metal, wreckages, like a destructive whirlwind had blown through that sector of space and took out its anger on the Command Centers in the area. They had kept small clusters of Centers scattered in various pockets of space in case they really did need backup for the first part of the plan. But the three in this sector were gone, only parts of twisted gray limbs remained.
“This is Pathfinder and Spa-C’s sector. What happened?”
A blue screen popped up, displaying a blurred image pieced together from the now destroyed Centers' damaged data files. A machine, monstrously large compared to its surroundings stood out against an exploding Center, its gleaming claw opened towards the screen in a menacing gesture. Leader-1 stared at the titanic machine a moment, and a name floated to the front of his mind. "Omega Supreme." His eyes narrowed, "We forgot about him, I thought he would have been on Cybertron."
Another screen winked to life and Spa-C's face came into view, a thin network of cracks stretched across her cheek. One eye was noticably dimmer than the other.
“That thing and his little friend have Pathfinder, Leader-1.”
“What? How did that happen?”
“She wasn’t responding when I tried hailing her, so I went to investigate. When I found her, she was being attacked by two Autobots, one of them was that giant. I…” she frowned, yellow eyes lowered, “I got distracted during the fight and he let me have it. He almost destroyed my Super Gobot body, and me along with it if I hadn’t ejected.” She looked back up, eyes pleading, and leaned closer to the screen. “Let me go too Leader-1, I owe it to Pathfinder!”
“Finish getting repaired and see how you feel. We’ll get her back as soon as we figure out where he went with her.”
"I traced his exhaust trail, it looks like he's heading for Earth."
Leader-1 tapped his chin. "That makes sense, now we can look for her while we take care of business." He turned his attention to Hans Cuff. "Squad MR-01 is already on Earth, correct?"
"Yes, Leader-1."
“Good. Hans Cuff, I want you aboard this Center. Is the astrobeam tech still functional?”
“Yes. It’s… different, but functional, we’ve been testing it while you were on Cybertron.”
“Tie up any loose ends on your ship, then beam yourself aboard. In the meantime, Good Knight, Van Guard, take Command Center MR-02 and MR-03 and follow us to Earth. If you, or any of your crew have reservations, speak now.” His eyes swept the remaining screens; no one spoke. “Very well. The rest of you, you know where you need to be. And remember, this isn’t going to get any easier.”
“Yes Leader-1.” They echoed as one. The screens winked out one by one by one until the only light in the room came from the overhead filaments. Leader-1 inhaled sharply, his hand automatically clasping his wound again as it crackled.
“Excuse me.” He made for the door, SmallFoot reached for his arm.
“Leader-1, are you going to be okay? You really should have Scooter take a look-”
“I-I just need a minute SmallFoot. Please.”
She let go, staring after him as he exited the control room and walked down the hallway.

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

The phone rang.
It rang again.
And again.
Nick grumbled and rolled over, eyes red with sleep, his hair a tussled mess. He snatched his cell off the nightstand, sat up and glanced over at AJ. She was still sleeping, a shoulder peeked out from beneath the covers. He looked at the number and froze, brows furrowing, fingers gripping the phone tight enough to make it creak. It had been four years since he’d seen those digits, he wondered how they found him and A.J.
It rang again.
Nick let out a breath, then flipped it open.
“How’d you get this number Matt?” His voice was low to keep from waking A.J, deadpan out of anger.
“What took you so long to answer?!” a clipped voice belted from the cell, Nick tapped the volume key quickly and glared at the device.
“Keep it down, you're gonna wake A.J!"
“What’s she doing there?”
Nick’s fingers clenched again, eliciting a tiny crack from the plastic. “It’s been four years,” he growled, “you were supposed to be my best man at the wedding, remember?”
There was silence on the other end, the sound of Matt yelling something to someone, then “Oh yeah, that. I told you I was busy.”
“That’s right, too busy. Too busy to-”
“Look I didn’t call to pick up where we left off, I've got responsibilities out the yin-yang here. You <I>know</I> how messed up UNECOM was after Newcastle vanished. They wanted to pull in a complete outsider, some guy named Witwick or something. It was a nightmare dealing with NASA, and don’t get me started on those idiots at the Pentagon-”
“Know what’s messed up Matt, taking your two top agents and kicking them out!”
“Dammit Nick, I never kicked you and A.J out! I removed you from active duty so no one would know about your… y’know, your conditioning."
"You swept us under the rug like we were a dirty secret!"
"You ARE a dirty secret dammit! I told you two I didn't want you involved in the political b.s that was going on! You two were under the knife when everything hit the fan and Newcastle disappeared, I didn't want to chance anything happening to you if I didn't wind up in charge! I told you it wasn’t a slight and you ran off and tried to disappear anyway.” A loaded pause, “And you didn’t even do that right.”
Nick felt his knee jerking and stood, pacing the bedroom in his boxers. “Worked pretty well for a few years didn’t it?”
“Please, it took us all of an hour to find you. You don’t have… what you two had done to you, done and expect to be able to vanish. Doesn’t work that way. I haven’t called because…” another pause, “I-I just thought you needed some time to cool off. I wouldn’t have bothered you yet but...” Matt paused, he breathed a heavy sigh. When he spoke again, Nick could hear the tired aging in his voice. “I need you guys now Nick, this is big.”
Nick’s eyebrows crunched the skin on his forehead together. He said nothing, waiting for Matt.
“They’re back.”
Nick’s eyes flew open, a chill raced through his chest.

*************
UNECOM HQ:

Matt sat in an oversized chair facing a tremendous monitor. The communications hangar was crammed with equipment, both man-made and Gobotronian. He leaned to the side, the phone pressed to his ear. His elbow was propped on the chair’s arm, head in his hand, fingers kneading through his peppered hair. Nick’s silence didn’t surprise him. Finally he got the response he’d been expecting.
“How-when? But… what’s going-”
“I told you this was big. Things are different now.”
He turned slowly in his chair, eyes rising to look at two uncharacteristically streamlined Gobots. Rest-Q, Pumper, and Sparky stared down at him, their advanced designs contrasting sharply against UNECOM’s equipment.
“You wouldn’t believe how different.”
Nick's head was pounding. He raised a hand in the fading dark, watching an occasional pulse of light travel beneath the skin. He opened his mouth to say something, and realized he didn’t know what to say. Finally, he managed “Tell me everything.”

**********
Gobotron was silent.

Renegades and Guardians roamed the surface of Gobotropolis, navigated its airspace in silence. Few had spoken since the change. Leader-1 left explicit instructions for every Guardian, making it a point to see them individually before departing on the journey to Cybertron. Those that passed one another exchanged uneasy glances, remembering Leader-1’s words to them. Blane had pulled aside only a few Renegades, Night Fright, Warpath and Loco, and left them with orders of his own. Order number one: avoid the Guardians. Blane stressed that they would take care of business when he returned, and only when he returned. Until then they were under the rule of his elite trio. They celebrated their augmented abilities for a while, but as the time passed they too fell silent, waiting for Blane’s inevitable return.

Tri-Trak of the Guardians’ Secret Riders rumbled down the street, a red spot against the landscape. His new body sported three all terrain, rounded treads instead of regular tires, his nameless vehicle mode a cross between a motorbike and armored car. He glided easily over the surface. Tork rolled beside him, now an armored truck sporting an impressive arsenal atop his curved, studded roof. His deep blue metal looked black in the fading light. Twister hovered above them and kept speed. He was silent, too concerned with the task at hand to fully enjoy his new body.

Tri-Trak drifted in his mind, back to that sterile room where Leader-1 lay in pieces after the change, his body ravaged and barely recognizable. His voice so weak.
“I don’t understand Leader-1, why didn’t you change?” he pulled his gaze away from his broken leader, unable to maintain eye contact.
“Don’t... worry, Tri-Track. I need... to be like… this, for now.” Leader-1 raised a feeble hand and beckoned him to come closer. Tri-Trak obliged and knelt beside him.
“What are you doing, Leader-1? I know you’re planning something, why won’t you tell us?”
“Shh…” Leader-1 closed his eyes, sparks crackled across his chest. “We’ve been lucky… to get… another chance. I need you to trust… me.” He opened his eyes and looked at Tri-Trak, his eyes suddenly sharp, focused. “Do you?”
Tri-Trak felt his throat tighten, his eyes stung as he placed a hand over Leader-1’s. “Of course I do, I just…”
“I need you, and the Secret Riders to…” he drew Tri-Trak closer and whispered something in his ear, then let go. Tri-Trak looked at him, confused. “That’s it? I don't undestand-are you sure?”
Leader-1 nodded. “Need you to understand… I… failed you all once… won’t fail you… again.”
“Dammit Leader-1, no one blames you for-”
“Please send… Tork.”
Tri-Trak hesitated, frustrated, then nodded. “Yes Leader-1.”

He came back to himself with a start, the memory of his last encounter with Leader-1 fading. Some of the Guardians boarded the new Command Centers and left with Leader-1 when the time came, the rest remained on Gobotron, every one of them moving with a purpose. They were all told not to tell the others what their instructions had been, to keep any and all communication limited to one or two word exchanges, preferably hand gestures if they could do so. Most importantly, they had all been told to keep their minds as clear as possible. Worry, doubt, fear, had to be pushed aside in favor of the task they were given. Leader-1’s words echoed in their minds “Give Unicron nothing, that gives us a chance.”
They didn’t understand, Tri-Trak certainly didn’t understand, but he would do what was asked of him. Because Leader-1 had asked him to do this, and if a Gobot couldn’t believe in him, what could they believe in?
He turned a corner, Tork beside him, and drove towards a towering spire that loomed against the night sky. Gobotropolis was covered in these things, they sprouted from the surface like weeds, noticably larger numbers were near the connection points of the ring projected from the small sphere. They looked strange, jutting from the ground only a few feet from actual buildings. Two other Guardians passed him, heading in the opposite direction. They flashed their lights twice in unison and continued. Tri-Track neared the spire and rolled to a halt. Tork kept driving, leaving Tri Trak behind as he rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Glancing up, he saw Twister shoot off towards another building and circle it. He was joined by Wrong Way, who, for the first time Tri Track could remember, was not going the wrong way. He shook his head and walked towards the spire, raised a closed hand, and tapped the side three times.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
Instantly, it came alive with lights that grew from the base and curled up the length of metal. Small grooves carved into the structure lit up, flickered, and then died down to a faint glow. This one sounded hollow. Odd. He noted the difference, tucked it away in his memory, then cleared his head. Tri Trak stared a moment, trying to keep his mind empty but couldn’t help but wonder why Leader-1 had asked him to do this. What was to be gained by knocking on these spires? None of the tasks really made any sense, when he tried to think about what everyone else might be doing, it did little more than give him a headache. He peppered his thoughts with ancient Gobotronian speak, running the words backwards through his head until he decided he’d taken long enough. He shifted back to his vehicle form, started his engine, and sped off as the lights faded completely. He was less than a mile from the spire when Tork rejoined him, the light ‘whup-whup-whup’ of Twister’s chopper blades told him the trio was complete again-until the next go-round.

***********

Leader-1 stood in a small empty room. The scar on his chest no longer sparked, but the subsiding pain didn’t make him feel any better. He waited, anticipating.
Then it came.
Leader-1 dropped to his knees, hands clasped around his head as the pounding behind his eyes felt like it would split his skull. It was Unicron, boring into his mind- or rather, trying to. Leader-1 tried to fight the searing pain jolting his mind with every thought he tried to form. He arched his back and screamed at the ceiling. He barely recognized the sound, it was so primal, the guttural roar of a frightened but deadly animal. It scared him. He felt his hands grow hot and could smell the wisps of smoke rising from the joints in his body. Unicron said nothing, the pain arcing through Leader-1's body made the Gobot wonder why the demon was torturing him yet again, but then it dawned on him; Unicron was growing frustrated.
It was more than his impatience to have Cybertron, his anger stemmed from his inability to draw as much power as he wanted into his new vessel as well as his annoyance at the Gobots themselves. The Guardians crawling across Gobotropolis-his new center of being, were acting strange, every one of them moving in a disjointed, yet almost organized pattern. Their thoughts came in short bursts, clouded by words pulled from their nonsensical ancient tongue. And yet their actions meant nothing to him, they were simply...irritating static. True, he could punish them, but for what? It would have been a waste of precious energy to torture the Gobots for technically doing nothing, so instead his anger manifest itself as a painful reminder to Leader-1.
"Why am I still waiting for Cybertron, Leader-1?"
"We..." he gritted his teeth, pushing the words out in short bursts, "...willl...just...need...to be... patient..."
"<B>Speak not to me of patience. When mine runs out, so will the time of your pitiful race.</B>"
-----------------

They clustered around the room, listening to Leader-1’s side of his conversation with Unicron. Heads bowed, their eyes searched the floor. SmallFoot’s mouth turned down, she tried her best to stifle the tears stinging her eyes and failed. Leader-1 had accepted Unicron’s terms on their behalf, but in remembering the pain it caused them to hear Unicron speak, he asked the dark being to communicate with him, and only him. He was funneling a message they were all supposed to hear as well as the pain. They could tell from his screams, it was excruciating. Because it was meant for all of them. And yet he never complained, content to accept the burden. Whe she couldn’t take anymore she broke away and retreated to the bridge. Turbo motioned for Scooter to go with her and he obliged.

-------------------

Leader-1 lay on the floor, curled into a fetal position, eyes wide and blank. He stared at his hand, watching the pinky twitch as he thought about what had happened on Cybertron. The sickness clenched his inner circuits, made him want to vomit. That hand. He’d shot Optimus Prime in the back with that hand. Optimus, whose voice swelled with compassion when he heard about the Gobots’ plight. It made what he had to do so much harder…
A jolt of pain ripped through his system, he curled tighter, relaxed as it passed. He sighed.
“I… deserve… this.” He managed a feeble whisper.
He had lied to Prime, feigned ignorance of Cybertron and their people, pretended to be surprised by Prime’s explanation of the Matrix and what it was. He already knew, just like he and Blane knew about all the Autobots and Decepticons. Unicron had seen to that, loading the two leaders' minds with names and faces. How else could they have known who to send where? How else would they have been prepared to deal with the likes of Fort Max?

He waited for the worst of the pains to subside, then forced himself slowly to his feet, ignoring the sharp pangs of soreness racing through him. He straightened up as best he could, eyes closed in an attempt to steady himself. His head swam as he reached for the door and slowly pulled it open. Turbo stood before him.
“Hey, you alright?”
Leader-1 was quiet a moment, then, "Yeah, fine."
Turbo stared at him, worry permeating his expression. He couldn't tell what Leader-1 was thinking anymore, the bot hadn't been the same since Unicron decimated their armada. True, they were all different now, just look at Scooter and SmallFoot, but still... "I..." Turbo stumbled with the words, he wasn't good at pep talks, he was used to getting them... and he didn't even know if pep was what Leader-1 needed right now. "Leader-1, ya know we're all behind ya in this, right?"
Leader-1 felt his eyes heavy on him and sighed. "I just can't help but think that maybe... maybe there was some other way. What if I'm wrong, about everything?"
"Hey," Turbo swatted Leader-1's shoulder, "If there was another way, I know you woulda thought of it! We're in this with ya, to the end." he hesitated, "And I ain't just sayin' that. You've got a whole buncha Guardians sayin’ the same thing."
Leader-1 tried his best to smile, but it faltered. Instead he nodded. "I appreciate it Turbo, you have no idea how much."
"Just keep doin' what you're doin'. We don't want to lose you. Not to Unicron, not to Prime... and not to yourself."
He gave Leader-1 another swat on the shoulder and pointed towards the bridge.
“Now what say we tell the Renegades to beat it? Scoot says they haven’t heard nothing from em since we split from Gobotron, and they ain’t answerin' anyone's hails.”
“We do need them off Earth,” Leader-1 felt the strength in his legs returning, the sickness pulling away. Good. He had be peak efficiency when dealing with Blane. “They should have done enough damage to the Decepticons by now, it’s time for phase two.”

***********

AJ and Nick sat on the edge of their bed, early rays of the morning sun shone through the drapes and checkered the floor. AJ looked down and adjusted her wedding band. She always did when she was thinking, unaware that Nick noticed her doing it more and more over the last few weeks.
“I don’t understand, what’s a Transformer? How is it we’ve never heard about them until now?”
“The same reason they’ve never heard of the Gobots, or us I guess. Matt said it’s like a split personality, one can exist for years without knowing the other one’s there."
“But how could we not know about the world being in danger?”
Nick sighed, “I think we knew, just, we probably assumed it was the Renegades. I mean, isn’t that who it usually turned out to be?”
Nick shook is head. “Matt’s told me some wild stuff. Remember the ripples of displaced time rifts that appeared a few years ago?” AJ nodded.
“Wasn’t caused by the Renegades. It was something else. Same thing for the atmospheric disruptions in 99. The Guardians were away on a mission, and someone had to have solved the problem.”
AJ sighed and pulled a braid of hair from her face.
“I don’t understand how they could never have run into each other, or didn’t know about each other until now.
“They’ve never had a reason to, they’ve never <I>looked</I> for each other. They both disguised themselves as cars, planes, whatever. They’ve probably passed each other dozens, probably hundred of times and never known it.”
“So, what’s changed?”
“Something-or some one named Unicron. The Transformers encountered him years ago and managed to beat him before he devoured their world. But he came back, and when he did, he took over Gobotron. Now, to get him to leave their planet, they have to give him Cybertron.”
A.J was aghast, "What?! There’s no way Leader-1 would go along with that!”
Nick shook his head. “It seems like he has, but from the sounds of it, things are a little more... complicated than they seem. He's asking for our help A.J, we have to help him, help the Guardians.”
“No!" she stared at him as if he'd sprouted horns, "Since when is it okay to sacrifice others for your own sake?!”
Nick sighed, “A.J, if some madman kidnapped you and I didn’t know how to get you back…” his eyes met hers, his face stern, “I’d do things I wouldn’t be proud of. So help me A.J, I’d do it and try to live with the guilt.”
“That doesn’t justify it at all! Besides… Leader-1 would have found another way…”
“Maybe he did, I don’t know… Matt doesn’t know. AJ, things are really bad now. He said he needs us, said they need us. How many times have they saved not just us A.J, but the world? We owe it them, we have to go.”
“They need us?!” A.J’s hazel eyes flashed with anger, They left, and then Matt, that self righteous creep, kicked us out of UNECOM!” She looked at her hands, turning them over and examining the palm. “After we outranked their top guys…” she grimaced, “After they peeled off our skin and…”
“That’s why he needs us. No one else can help like we can.” He reached for her and pulled her close. “I love you more than anything. But... if you don’t want to do this,” he paused, placed a hand to her chin and turned her face to his. He kissed her deeply, “then neither do I. I’ll call Matt right now and tell him to stick it.”
A.J drew back suddenly, stood and walked around the bed towards the door. Nick couldn’t help but admire her figure as she leaned against the doorframe, head bowed, arms crossed, braided hair falling against her face. She brushed it aside absently, then let it fall back. She was lost in her own head, thinking about the times the Guardians had been there to help them, rescue them and save the Earth. How could she say no? But then again, hadn’t they just left without so much as a goodbye? And what about the life she was hoping to build with Nick? Four wonderful years they'd had together UNECOM free. They’d bought a house, a quaint little home where they could settle down, live life, start a family. The doctors said if they just kept trying, eventually they could-
Something warm touched her cheek.
Her eyes snapped open and she saw Nick standing before her. He was wiping a tear from her cheek. She looked at him. He would do it. If she told him no, he really would call Matt and tell the old badger to shove it. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Call Matt.”

**********

Jazz cast an angry eye at the communicator in his hand labeled Earth Base II and thrust it at Blaster with his good arm.
"Here, YOU talk to him, I give up."
Blaster transformed and looked at the comm like Jazz just tossed a mini sharkticon at him, but took hold and tapped the speak button, unlocking a string of words from Blurr that had apparently not stopped since Jazz put him on hold.
"-we'reunderattack here onEarthMAYDAYMAYDAYMAYDAY!"
"Okay, calm down Blurr and- ok, ok they're- wait- they're what?!"
Blaster looked about the room, eyes growing wide as his processors dissected what sounded like a single multi-syllable word pouring from Blurr into sentences. The Throttlebots arrived, following Topspin and Twintwist through the hole in the wall serving as their door. They looked on silently while Perceptor, Roadbuster and Whirl crowded nearer, all sharing the same mask of confusion. Jazz turned to Blaster, his expression visible despite the visor covering his eyes.
"There's been an attack on Earth. Different guys but..." he hesitated, then, "Says they may have lost Defensor, doesn't know how many others..." The distress call ended with a 'click', Blaster looked at the communicator, wondering if things on Earth had been as bad as they were on Cybertron.
Fastlane, who had been leaning against the wall and listening, looked the most shaken of the Transformers present. He barely raised his head and asked "What... what are we going to do?"
"We go after them."
All heads turned to the doorway that framed Optimus Prime and Elita-1. There was a hardness in his voice that made Jazz flinch. Prime turned to Blaster, "How many Autobots can you reach?"
"Don't know, most of our communication towers were pretty banged up, and with the suddenness of the attack, we're scattered. Anyone not here's going to be using the emergency frequencies, but I'll try 'em all if I have to."
Prime considered the situation for a moment, then, "I want you to send word to Shockwave, he's to protect Cybertron while we're gone. We are officially on high alert. Nothing gets in, and no one leaves unless myself or Shockwave knows about it.”

“Ah’m… goin’ with you.” They all turned and saw Ironhide shakily getting to his feet, a hand pressed against the wall to keep himself up.
“No Ironhide, you’re too damaged.”
“I owe that raspberry skidmark of a robot, Prime.” His good eye flared, surprisingly vibrant in the gloom, “And I intend to pay ‘im back in full.”
Prime regarded Ironhide, debating.
“Count me in too Prime.” Inferno had propped himself up on an elbow, the hint of a smile on his lips. “It’s gonna take more than they’ve got to keep me down.” His sentiments were echoed by more Transformers in the room, they sat up and got to their feet, every one of them struggling to stnad tall and show Optimus their dedication. This war was only beginning, and they intended to see it through to the end.
Prime looked around at his troops. They were bruised, battered, but they were the farthest thing from defeated. He nodded approvingly. "Fine. Perceptor, you're coming as well. Anyone who still requires repairs can have it done on the shuttle. Roadbuster."
"Yes sir!"
"You and Whirl get the nearest shuttle ready for launch."
"That won't be necessary Optimus." Skylynx's voice crackled through one of Blaster's speakers. "I'm already fueling up, twenty minutes and I'm ready to go."
Prime crossed his arms, "Blaster, after you contact Shockwave, send out a looping message to Autobots across all the frequency bands.Anyone who reports Skylynx in ten minutes comes with us."
"Can do!" Blaster transformed and lit up the channels, broadcasting Prime's messages as Perceptor made his way over to their commander.
"Optimus, what about the Guardians?"
"These simultaneous attacks aren't a coincidence. If this conflict has spilled over to Earth, I guarantee the Guardians will be there as well." He turned towards the door, the Autobots rising and falling into step behind him. "And I intend to greet them when they arrive."

**********
"You want me to do what?!" Blane yelled to seemingly no one on the battlefield. In truth he was receiving a transmission from Leader-1, but in the midst of a battle, the order was none too welcome. Blane replied silently through his link-up.
{No way I leave Earth Leader-1, you can suck my exhaust hose-}
{We follow the plan Blane! Remember who's calling the shots here.}
{It sure as spit ain't you, ex-hero.} Blane growled, but started making provisions to comply with the request.
{We need the second part of this to happen now if this is going to work.} Leader-1's voice carried a sharp edge, {Cybertron’s no doubt on full alert and making preparations to fight Guardians, not Renegades. You want to assert your dominance, that’s fine, but do it on Cybertron, the Decepticons there have to be neutralized.}
"Yeah, whatever," Blane laughed out loud, Galvatron's helmet clasped firmly in his hands, "Who needs Cybertron, I got the one I want right here." He glared at the robot
"Congratulations, you’ve officially bored me. Heads up, and off.” He began to channel energy into his fingers, intent on unleashing it in a single burst into Galvatron’s dome when he heard-
"If you not drop him, me take YOUR head off."
Blane's audio registered the sound of something a lot deeper in pitch and a lot more commanding than Cyclonus or any of the Sweeps in Galvatron's little armada. His eyes dropped to Galvatron, whose teeth were clenched in a shaking grimace as he tried fruitlessly to remove Blane's hands from his head. The sound of heavy footfalls came from behind, and as Blane's head swiveled around his eyes caught sight of the first Autobot he registered as a potential threat since arriving on this crusted dustball of a planet.

Grimlock stood behind the foreign robot that held Galvatron in his grasp. He didn't recognize him, nor any of the other robots running around with that strange 'R' symbol plastered over their bodies. And he didn't care. Right now Grimlock knew two things. One; Galvatron, at this point in time according to Prime, was NOT the enemy, ergo- friend. And two; Prime had specifically asked Grimlock to keep the peace on Earth- no matter the cost. Losing Galvatron meant losing the peace.
"Me not ask twice." With a single motion his sword was drawn and powered, sending ragged waves of crimson energy surging through his weapon of choice. He drew it back and glared with disdain at the robot who dared turn a mad smile on him.
Blane couldn't resist. "And you are?"
"Grimlock."
He said the name, then swung his weapon.

Blane had never been swung at without warning, his years fighting the Guardians both on Gobotron and Earth had come with long drawn out speeches before battle, and even in the most daring attack there had never been such a level of ferocity with which this attack was leveled. Had he still been Cy-Kill, he'd be dead.
Good thing he wasn't.
Blane's head dropped down a split second before Grimlock's blade made contact with it's intended target. It whizzed over him with a whoosh. The disruption in focus caused the power collecting in his right hand to ignite, exploding against Galvatron’s head in a brilliant explosion. Galvatron’s vision went white with pain as his metal absorbed the heat, he pitched backwards and fell as Grimlock advanced.
"Whoa!" Blane yelled, and barely got the word out before Grimlock swung again, this time driving the weapon in a downward arc, missing Blane's shoulder by inches..
"SONUVA-!" Blane half yelled, half growled as Grimlock prepared his next strike. "You did NOT just try to-"
Grimlock's sword buried itself in Blane's midsection, biting angrily into the Renegade's metal. Blane's sentence twisted into and wild snarl as he, raised his left hand, unloading the second batch of collected energy. The shot went wild, missing Grimlock and careening into the near distance. The explosion stormed yellow lights behind his hulking form, and as Blane stood his full height he realized he still had to stare up to meet the eyes of the Dinobot commander. For a moment they just stared, Blane's fist curled and glowed yellow.
"You want a piece of me, Dinodolt?!”
Grimlock leaned back as a brilliant, purple blast of plasma slammed into Blane’s chest, lifting him off the ground with a scream and sending him hurtling backwards. Galvatron rested in cannon mode, shuddering, a wad of smoke billowing from his barrel.

Blane careened through the air and felt himself suddenly halt. His chest was marred by a wide, rounded and blackened wound that still crackled with purple lines of energy. He sneered and glanced back, the renegade mutant Bladez hovered behind him in flight mode, purple and black, a circular craft similar to Pathfinder. A ring of extended spikes poked along the edges, smaller pockets of guns resting above them. Two of these were active and glowing green. Blane’s eyes glanced up and saw Vamp laying atop the craft, like Bladez was an oversized beach towel.
“Low level magnetic manipulation.” She ran her thin claws across Bladez’s side, “A pleasure to assist you Blane.” Bladez lowered himself, allowing Blane’s feet to touch the ground. The sneer hadn’t left his lips. “Whatever. Now pull off, we’re out of here.”
“Certainly Blane, I-” Vamp’s words froze when she stole a glance in the direction Blane came from. Grimlock stood beside Galvatron, sword drawn, a look of murder blaring in his optics when he caught her eyes. Her lips parted slightly, eyes growing large as she pulled herself to her knees and leaned forward.
“Oh myyyy…”
Grimlock was making his way towards them, his intent clear.
“Yesss.” Vamp purred, a smile working its way across her face, head beginning to tilt, “Do come… you could please me reatly.”
Bladez growled, his voice thick, “I’ll rip his head off, for you vamp, then-”
“NO!” she stabbed a finger into him, “You won’t touch him. That, my little Bladez, is no mere machine. That… is perfection.”
Tux approached Blane’s side, the long metal side-flaps of his longcoat lifting to reveal twin sonic cannons. He leveled them towards Grimlock and Galvatron.
“Give the word, and I will.”
“No.” Blane’s head raced, “we’re past due to be off this mudball. Plenty of time to play later.”
With that he took to the air, opening a link to the remaining Renegades. "Renegades! Back it up."
They responded at once, Thruster pulled free of Metroplex and changed modes, her onboard weaponry firing continuously as she did so. Metroplex managed to raise his arms in time to block the shots, they struck his siding and exploded. Monstrous clasped both claws around Abominus’ hands and pried them off his neck. His mouth opened wide and sprayed an expanding column of flame that would have struck the Terrorcon gestalt in the face had he not pulled back. Monstrous separated, each member assuming their craft mode and blasting off towards Thruster. Vamp was visibly disappointed, Bladez was silent as he rose, anger and jealousy radiating from his being. He caught sight of Pincher and Scorp carrying Crasher and Cop-Tor, Bugsie towed an unconscious Screwhead and Psycho behind him.
Blane dropped his gaze back to Grimlock.
"As for you..."

The ground behind Grimlock quaked with a violent thunder that sounded more like a roar than anything produced by nature. The earth splitting beneath his feet confirmed it as an orange metal beast tore free of its subterranean hiding place. Scales, the Renegade beast of torture pulled its massive saurian body from below with a mechanical snarl and immediately set his eyes upon Grimlock. Grimlock's glare followed Blane as he ascended to the Renegades Thruster. In a single motion the Dinobot commander drew his sword, bathed in a dull crimson glow and he spun in a wide arc, burying the shimmering blade in Scale's extended throat. The beast's head jerked back violently, the wound sprayed a thick yellow fluid and it roared. Its head lashed out and clamped its jaws on Grimlock’s leg, jerking him off his feet. It opened its mouth and clamped down with a fierce resolve. Grimlock growled himself when he heard a thunderous collision. Scales screamed in pain and jerked forward. The lower half of its front leg raced away from the main body, seemingly of its own accord until it turned and revealed Slag, his horns buried deep in the appendage. He shook his head and sent the limb flying. Grimlock swung his sword, burying it to the hilt in Scale’s eye. A piecing shriek escaped the monster, it dropped Grimlock and reared up on its hind legs. Another collision sounded, one of its rear legs twisted on a horrible angle and snapped in two. A flash of gold revealed Snarl, his spiked tail still raised from the followthrough. He backed up as Scales began to fall towards him when Swoop cut through the air, releasing a barrage of missiles that exploded against Scale’s back and sent him crashing in the opposite direction. The ground shook as Sludge lumbered towards the beast, rearing back on his back legs and allowing his bulk to smash down across Scale’s back. The Renegade monster howled, but still thrashed about wildly, arching its head back and attempting to lock its jaws around Sludge’s neck. It's claws dug into the ground when it caught sight of Grimlock changing his own form, a massive T-Rex that roared a savage cry before racing forward. Grimlock's jaws wend wide and he collided with the side of Scales’ neck, teeth digging into its metal and pushing through to his inner mechanisms. He clamped down and pulled back, coming away with a mouthful of alien metal and oil. Scales shuttered, head lolling to the side as its eyes clouded with internal smoke. Grimlock heard a familiar roar, and stepped back instinctively as Slag charged forward, smashing full force into Scale’s head. The force drove Slag past the creature’s shoulders and halfway into its chest before stopping. Fiery red fuel splashed across Slag and spattered his comrades, black steam plumed from what remained of Scale’s body. Grimlock thundered a triumphant roar as he and the Dinobots resumed their robot mode. He looked up, hoping to see Blane’s face after the display, but the Renegades were gone. Just like that.

Springer dropped from the sky, transforming as he landed beside Grimlock. His hands still shook slightly, racked with pain from his encounter with Cop-Tor, but he managed a smile.
"Never thought I'd be so glad to see you, you big lug."
Grimlock tilted his head down towards the green autobot. His response carried no humor.
"Where Magnus?"

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

Ultra Magnus' eyes switched on suddenly. He sat upright and sprang to his feet, fists clenched, slightly hunched to avoid any stray energy blast that might be-
Wait, he could move? He put a hand to his forehead and tried to clear his thoughts. He remembered now, the fight, the black ship, something biting his neck... He wasn't aware that his hand had slipped down to his throat until he felt the puncture marks. He brought his hand away, observing his fingers. They were dirty, but had no trace of the strange liquid that had crystallized and immobilized him. He scanned the ground, noticing a few faint dark spots on the ground, little else. He shook his head and felt his body's aches, they were minor. His eyes looked over the arm Psycho had used as his personal chew toy. Okay, maybe not so fine, but he was functional. He looked around and saw Metroplex-only Metroplex.
"They left?" he muttered, eyes traveling across the scorched battlefield until they found Galvatron. The Decepticon commander looked worse for wear, but he was moving, and Magnus was amazed to find himself thankful for his continued existence.

Scourge landed and raced towards his leader as the Sweeps placed hands on Galvatron's shoulders, attempting to steady him. He threw them off with an angry grunt, trying to ignore the sparks fizzing from his joints. He wanted to collapse, held up only by his pride. He could see Cyclonus descending, trails of smoke drifting from large dents across his jet body. His transformation sounded painful as he landed, barely able to stand on his own.
"What..." he breathed, "Is going on?!"
Ultra Magnus' voice came from behind "We, just got caught with our pants down." They turned and saw him, fingers caked with dirt from the long climb out of the chasm, grime clogging the corners of his armor. He limped towards them with a sour expression. And I don't aim for it to happen again. Galvatron, we need to-"
Grimlock was in his face, glowering down at him. "Magnus need to explain what just happen! What you do in Metroplex all day, chase own trailer?!"
Magnus' lips curled back slightly, Grimlock had been like this ever since Prime ordered him to enforce the peace between the Autobots and Decepticons on Earth. He'd show up unannounced, cast a few verbal barbs at Magnus, and leave. Primus help him, he swore the Dinobot was trying to goad him into a fight.
"Now isn't the time Grimlock." Magnus' voice was low and even, "If you want to question how I handle Metroplex and Autobot City II then we'll discuss it later-"
"Now is perfect time!" Grimlock boomed, eyes flashing, he pointed his sword towards the burning remains of Scales, Magnus hadn't noticed until he followed the tip of Grimlock's blade. "Thanks to you, almost was no later!"
"We were taken by surprise, they used one of our own ships to-"
"Catch by surprise! How Magnus NOT know attack coming?!"
Magnus' fists clamped shut and shook "I had friends on that shuttle dammit, you think I WANTED this to happen?!"
"Could have fooled me."
"Last I heard that wasn't a very hard thing to do."
Grimlock growled and made for Magnus, who moved to meet him in kind, but found something green blocking his way. He looked down and saw Springer, banged up but functional.
"Magnus, glad to see you're up and running buddy!" he nodded towards Grimlock, "Grimmy said he's been looking for you, and he's found you, so now," he pointed towards something in the distance stumbling towards them. Hot Rod. Arcee hung limp in his arms, "Now we can all see how badly Hot Rod's hurt and get some help for Arcee." Magnus and Grimlock traded glares over Springer's head, then backed away from each other.

Galvatron watched the scene with disinterest. He waved his troops towards their craft.
"That braggart Blane mentioned Cybertron. We’re not about to give them the chance to wreak havoc there as well. Cyclonus, get aboard and hail Shockwave, I need to speak with him."
The Decepticons turned as one and walked towards their transport, the Terrorcons joining Galvatron's side. Despite their wounds, they practically vibrated with excitement, energon still rushing through their circuits from their battle. Clearly they wanted another chance to finish what they'd started.
Galvatron glanced back at Magnus and Grimlock. "Get your house in order Autobots. This conflict is far from over."

To be continued…