TFP: A New Beginning - Chapter 3

“In your face!” cackled the Sparkling, screeching to a halt and transforming to bipedal mode.  “You said I couldn’t beat you!  You said I’d never be faster than you!  You said no one could ever show you up, but check me out!”  He hopped around in some kind of ridiculous victory dance, pointing at the stalled car who had just barely managed to keep up with him after taking the last few turns too wide.

Knock Out growled.

“I let you win, Newspark.”

Hot Rod deflated.  “Nuh-uh.”  His brow furrowed in confusion and annoyance.

“Totally did,” the Medic lied.  He transformed, crossed his arms over his chest.  “Anyway, it wasn’t even a real race.”

“That’s not what you said when you were pulling ahead,” Hot Rod mumbled.

Knock Out glared at him.

“So, what are we doing out her, Doc bot?”

Knock Out’s expression softened and he lifted his arms into a long stretch.  “What are we doing, my little Sparkling?  We’re relaxing in the ruins of a war-torn town where no one can bother us for the rest of the day.”  He strutted over to a pile of twisted, melted metal and reclined against it, closing his optics and sighing contently.

Hot Rod looked around.  “I thought this was a quick trip then back to work kind of thing.”

Knock Out cracked open an optic and smirked.  “Since when have I ever taken a ‘quick trip’ when it comes to getting out of work?”

Hot Rod shrugged and began walking farther into the city.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Exploring.”

Knock Out watched the Sparkling disappear around the corner and frowned.  “He’s fine, Knock Out,” the Medic mumbled.  “He’s not stupid like the rest.  He won’t get into anything.  He’ll stay close.”

It was quiet.

“Hot Rod!”

Silence.

Knock Out jumped to his pedes and ran in the direction the Sparkling had gone.  “Hot Rod!”  No sign of him.  He was quick, that was for sure.

A shadow fell over the Medic.  He looked up, optics widening in horror, and jumped out of the way just as a certain, silent mech crashed down in the place he had been standing.

“S-Soundwave?”  Knock Out looked around.  Still no sign of Hot Rod.  “B-but, you’re… You were… I thought… Why are you here?”

The lithe mech turned to look at him, expression blank and terrifying as ever.  His visor lit up as he played back an audio clip.  “Get me a medic.”

Knock Out froze.  “Lord Megatron?  I… I can’t help him.”

Soundwave tensed.  His data collectors fell from his chest and rose slowly into the air.

“I-I mean… I’m with the Autobots now.  I have to report in to them and… and…” Movement in the distance.  Was that?

No.  No.  No!

There, a ways away, hiding behind a crumbling wall, two large, blue optics stared back at him in fear.  Thank the Allspark he had enough sense to stay hidden!

Soundwave stepped closer to the Medic.

Knock Out, in turn, stepped back.  “Look, Soundwave, if you could just convince Megatron to turn himself in, I would be more than willing to help him in any way I can, but…”

Knock Out’s optics widened in horror as he watched the Newspark approach Soundwave from behind, gnarled pole in hand and raised to strike.  Time seemed to stand still for the Medic as he considered his options.  He could let Hot Rod attack and use the distraction to escape.  However, that would mean certain death for the youngling.

The Autobots wouldn’t take that well.

He could attack Soundwave with Hot Rod.  They might stand a chance and if—and that was a very big if—they survived, bagging the communications chief would certainly earn him some brownie points.

He could call for backup, but that would mean admitting his mistake in going against protocol and facing the wrath of Ultra Magnus.

There really was no victory in this, was there?

Soundwave turned to look at what had startled the ex-Decepticon.  He tensed and raised his cables to strike.

Knock Out was pulled from his thoughts and, in a moment of sheer stupidity, unleashed his saw and lunged at his former superior.  He yelled at Hot Rod to run back to Autobot headquarters before dropping to the ground as an agonizing jolt of electricity tore through his frame.

His system shut down and he was only vaguely aware of the severed data collector by his helm.

The Autobots would never believe him.





Hot Rod felt like his body was in some kind of stasis lock.  He couldn’t move.  He could only watch as the mysterious mech wrapped his remaining tentacle around his fallen friend and transformed, carrying Knock Out away through the air.

Move.  He had to move.

“Doc?”

He watched Knock Out’s limp form disappear into the darkening sky.

“I know you told me to go back,” Hot Rod said, a look of determination on his face.  “But you never follow orders,” he transformed and sped in the direction the strange mech had gone.  “So why should I?”





They watched in silence as they always did.  They observed.  They learned.  They planned.

Long had they waited for Cybertron to be reborn.  To spawn new life.

It seemed the day had finally come.

They could feel the planet growing stronger.  Refugees returned every day.  Newsparks were being discovered constantly.  Cities were being rebuilt.

And the bloodlust of war still ravaged the minds of the planet’s inhabitance.

Good.

That would make their infiltration all the more interesting.

They had lost track of their quarry for a time, but when Unicron began his awakening at the blue planet’s core, they were pleased to return to their hunt.

The Prime was gone now.  Pity.  He would have made an excellent trophy.

And Megatron…  Well, he was a mere shell of his former self.

The rebirth of the Predacons had been unexpected.  They remembered the race all too well and would have to be wary of their heightened senses and primitive instincts.  Still, Predaking would be an excellent catch and quite entertaining to watch in the pits.

There were growing restless now that their time was drawing near.  More and more often did they have to remind themselves to stay hidden.

Could they take conquer now?  Most certainly.  The Cybertronians were still recovering from their war, but that could cause problems.

At the moment, they were far too loyal to each other due to their desire to rebuild their planet.

But unrest could always be found if one looked hard enough.  And once the waters were stirred, they would not settle easily.

They would have their slaves soon enough.





Megatron was growing impatient.  Where was Soundwave?  Starscream wouldn’t last much longer.

He considered the situation.  How often had he beaten Starscream within an inch of his life?  How often had he watched as his personal medics rushed to stabilize him?  How often had Starscream pulled through?

Why was he so concerned, after all his attempts to exterminate the insufferable cretin, that Starscream might not make it?

Megatron pinched several major fuel lines shut, though it didn’t stop the steady streams of energon from trickling out of the many gouges in his frame.

Starscream would occasionally online his optics.  They would widen in agony before dimming and quickly blinking out.

“Soundwave,” he growled over his comm. link.  “Where are you?”

He heard something outside of his shelter and tensed.  “Sound wave?”

There was a soft whoosh and then silence.

Starscream stirred.  His optics seemed to focus on Megatron.

“Starscream?”  The tyrant scolded himself mentally for not at least attempting to soften his voice.

The Seeker winced at the harshness of his voice.  “M-my…”  His gaze fell to the warlord’s hands in his chest and he gasped and tried desperately to get away.

Megatron, not wanting to release the fuel lines, leaned over and used his own weight to pin Starscream down.  He glared darkly at Starscream and hissed, “Do not move.”

Starscream stilled and Megatron could tell he was fighting to stay conscious.

“M-mega…tron…”

“Stay still, Starscream.”

“M-my… wings…”

Megatron tensed.  “Soundwave will be coming with a Medic soon.”

“W-where?”

“It used to be a bar.”

Starscream tried to look around, but even trying to move his head brought wave of burning pain to his frame.  “Did you…”

“No.”  Megatron straightened, taking his weight off the Seeker.  Starscream relaxed and it occurred to Megatron that being pinned in his condition had probably been extremely painful.  “I found you outside.”

The Seekers optics darted.  “Predacons…”

Megatron could hear the sound of an aircraft approaching outside.  A single ping over his comm. told him that help had finally come.  

A mass of bright red fell through the doorway, moaning as it attempted to regain consciousness.  Knock Out pushed himself to his pedes and rubbed his helm.  He looked around, confused, until his optics landed on Megatron.

He jumped back and stutter, “M-Megatron, er, lord Megatron.  I, uh, I just, uh…”

Soundwave stepped behind him and gave him a hard shove in Megatron’s direction, knocking him to his knees again.

“Soundwave,” Megatron growled.  “What is the meaning of this?”

Soundwave replayed his audio clip.  “Get me a medic.”  He then gestured to Megatron, who clearly was not in need of medical attention, and repeated, “What is the meaning of this?”

Megatron shifted to the side, allowing both mechs to see the state of their former Air Commander.

“Whoa,” Knock Out said, once more pushing himself up.

Soundwave tilted his helm.  Where were Starscream’s wings?





Ultra Magnus’ fist hit the table hard.  “Of all the incompetent, irresponsible, reckless-” he cut himself off and just glared at the black and yellow bot in front of him.  Bumblebee remained silent, studying the table in an obvious attempt not to make eye contact with the Commander.  “What could you have possibly been thinking, soldier?  You allowed Knock Out, who is in no way trust worthy, to go joy riding and sent the Sparkling, Rodimus, who is still at an impressionable stage of development, to go with him.  Can you even comprehend how senseless that was?”

Bumblebee did not answer.

“Er, Ultra Magnus, sir?” interrupted the smaller, blue mech, peaking his helm through the door.

The Commander glared at him.  “What is it now, Blurr?”

“Well-not-trying-to-interrupt-seeing-as-how-you-seem-so-busy-with-dishing-out-punishment-to-unsuspecting-bots-who-could-have-in-no-way-guessed-the-outcome-of-their-choices-considering-that-said-bot’s-parolee-was-showing-such-improvement-in-his-commitment-to-his-occupation-and-responsibilities-but-a-bit-of-a-problem-has-come-up-well-it’s-not-a-problem-per-say-but-more-of-a-hiccup-and-we-well-Perceptor-thought-you-should-know-about-it-personally-the-rest-of-us-don’t-think-it’s-such-a-big-deal-considering-how-banged-up-some-of-our-equipment-is-but-we-sent-the-information-to-Ratchet-for-him-to-look-at-and-Perceptor-is-kind-of-angry-at-us-for-doing-that-I-don’t-know-why-I-mean-don’t-you-typically-want-other’s-opinions-on-things-like-this?”

“Blurr,” Magnus growled.

The speedster paused, collecting his thoughts.  “Right… So-there’s-this-weird-phenomenon-going-on-with-some-of-the-scanners-that-make-it-seem-like-there’s-well-something-lurking-around-out-there,” he gestured toward the back wall.  “We-don’t-know-what-it-is-and-the-energy-signature-is-really-strange-kind-of-ancient-and-it-blips-in-and-out-and-shows-up-sporadically-on-our-maps-and,” he looked at Bumblebee.  “Really-though-I’m-sure-Knock-Out-and-Hot-Rod-will-show-up-any-click-now.”  Back to Magnus:  “And-then-there-are-also-these-random-attacks-that-have-been-occurring-at-one-of-our-landing-ports-but-no-one’s-been-injured-to-the-point-of-death-just-some-minor-mauling-which-is-in-no-way-okay-but-it-happens-I-mean-we’ve-been-at-war-for-how-long-now-but-that’s-still-no-reason-for-the-attacks-and-severing-limbs-does-seem-a-little-extreme-now-that-I’m-thinking-about-it.”

“Whoa!  Time out!” Bumblebee shouted.  “Severing limbs?  Minor mauling?”  He looked back at Ultra Magnus horrifically.  “Are you hearing this?”

Ultra Magnus rose from where he was seated, using his desk to support himself until his struts steadied.  His recovery from the Predacon attack had been slow and painful and he had refused to accept the parts needed to repair his own legs when there were still so many others in need of help.  Ratchet had put up a fight with him on that subject, but he eventually gave in, leaving Magnus in the hands of their “completely capable, ex-con medic” and returned to earth.

He took a cane in his good servo and slowly walked out of the room.

Bumblebee fell in behind the Commander.  Though slow and handicapped, he was still completely capable of taking control of a room and striking fear into the sparks of all those around.

Ultra Magnus limped down the hall, toward the control room, optics set and frame tense.  Blurr and Bumblebee were silent.  He could feel them staring at him.

“Blurr, where have these assaults taken place?”

The small, blue mech perked up and jumped to the Autobot Commander’s side.  “Mostly-in-and-around-Praxis-Commander-the-Praxians-are-pouring-in-without-stop-and-that’s-making-it-pretty-difficult-to-isolate-which-groups-would-be-causing-the-chaos-but-you-can-bet-they’re-of-the-Decepticon-fold-and-that’s-not-the-only-place-we’ve-had-a-few-more-recent-reports-coming-from-Kalis-I-sent-Smokescreen-to-investigate-being-that-it’s-so-much-closer-but-he-ended-up-skipping-Kalis-completely-and-going-straight-to-Praxis-but-I-guess-I-can’t-really-blame-him-since-that-was-his-home-and-his-Spark-grew-with-those-bots-but-he-still-disobeyed-an-order-but-given-the-situation-I-don’t-care-to-press-it-”

“Blurr!”

The speedster fell silent.

“Do you think it’s the Predacons?” Bumblebee asked.

Magnus shook his helm.  “I’m sure we would have been informed if the beasts were to blame.  They are hard to miss, even in a busy landing port.”

Bumblebee sighed.  “It’s not right.  The war is over.  We won!  Why can’t people just accept that and go on living their lives in peace?”
Ultra Magnus glanced back at him.  “Just because Megatron has abandoned his cause does not mean the fighting will stop.  I’m afraid a war that lasted over six million years will not be given up so easily.  We must stay strong, stay alert and stay on top of all criminal activity is we want our age of peace to grow and last.”

The black and yellow nodded.  “Um… Do we have any idea which direction Knock Out and Hot Rod might have gone?”

Blurr nodded, answering slowly.  “They were headed east of Kalis.”

“Not far from the nearest attacks,” Bumblebee mumbled, a guilty look on his face.

Ultra Magnus huffed.  They had finally reached the control room.





Predaking’s optics opened suddenly.  Something had disturbed his powerdown.  He looked around the throne room of Darkmount, but saw nothing.

A gentle breeze blew over him.  His wings twitched.

Rising, he silently walked to the edge of structure and swept his gaze over the ruins he and his Predacons had come to call home.

He could see nothing out of place.

A low growl escaped his maw and a strange feeling crept into his mind.  He raised his wings instinctually, making himself look even bigger than he was.  His body tensed and he hissed at the silence.

Something wasn’t right.

He crept around the throne room.  He watched.  He listened.

Nothing happened.

Transforming, he growled once more at the emptiness.

“I am being hunted.”

Even the wind stood still.