A New Direction: Part 14
A brand mission, a brand new world where many things are not as they same and thier true objective is not even known to them.
PART FOURTEEN
Mimi quickly moved out of the way knowing were this was going. "Whoa buddy, think about this one." Solarflare's Arua exploded around him. "How bout just "I'm sorry?" Solarflare said pushing his shoulders up in complete embaressment.
Buckshot lowered his bat for a moment smiling. Solarflare lowered is Arua and was probably nailed in the head with a bat. Mimi sat on the bed and sighed. Solarflare found himself several moments later in the hallway with a puddle of mechfluid around his face. His Arua was fianlly active again and sent Buckahot flying back into the tub the flames being extuingished quickly. Buckshot sprung out of the ub and landed another shot to the knee. Solarfare returned with a fire packed punch. minutes later the two were rolling around in the hallway. Solarlfare landed another punch and was then thrown off.
THe two stood staring each other down a moment but then Solarflare dropped to one knee. "Enough." Solarflare said.
"One more." Bucky said and before soalrflare registered the comment he was in the wall. Buckshot walked back in to Mimi and saw she was passed out. He quickly figured they were both smashed to begin with.
"BUCKSHOT!" His comm screamed. "Did you find solarflare yet."
"Umm yeah, he's had a rough night, be there in a cycle." Buckshot walked over and picked the finch of the ground. "We will finish this later."
-------------------------
"Ok." Gaul said getting everyones attention. "We have a double edged sword on our hands here. We must attend a confrence tonight as lead security team for Jonas himself. But it also seems that one of our targets has discovered us and captured Rhapsody." Gual paused a moment and looked around at everyone.
"So, tonight we will attend the ceremony and retrieve Rhapsody. I have no dought that Grapple will show himself at the Ceremony tonight. After everything is wrapped up, we will follow him, get out team member back and nuetrialize him." Wraith smiled in the back slamming his fist into the other. "We have yo go now though, grab one weapon and try to keep another hidden on you. Let's go!" Gaul said picking up his warhammer and heading toward the citidel.
Penji, who had had to go store a good portion of his meal someplace to get back to barracks in time, transformed to robot mode, and actually stayed that way. It seemed to him that looking impossibly cute would not be an asset this time. As for weapons, he had his built in weapons, and the rest were always kept hidden, so he figured he was good.
Caska , on the other hand, usually didn't see a need for a holdout weapon, but an order was an order. Also she had just spotted her servant.
"Mephitis! Where have you been?! And fetch me a shortsword or dagger or something."
[Lightning Corps Barracks - Back Room]
“Wake up bitch.”
Grapple punctuated the statement with a savage backhand. There was a sharp crack as he struck Rhapsody hard across the temple. A thin dribble of mech fluid cascaded down the songbird’s chin and her optics flickered open.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” the tortoise spat in gruff tones. “Temporarily anyhow,” Rhapsody looked upward with bleary vision. Grapple loomed above her, dangerous and unfocused. She tried to move and found her arms tied. A weak test showed that her legs were similarly bound. She was dimly aware that her earlier wounds were gone. Had that monster taken the time to place her in a CR chamber? Rhapsody tried to get a look at the rest of the room. Grapple, however, greeted her curiosity with a steely knee to the stomach. Thought fled and he songbird doubled over with a pained groan. Before she could recover her torturer grasped her head by a tuft of blue plumage, dragging her upright. Pain lanced through her midsection as muscle cables cramped from the quick switch. She would have shrieked, but Grapple clamped a gnarled hand across her mouth, muting her cries.
“Shh, shh, shh,” he whispered, lips no more than an inch from Rhapsody’s left ear. “Don’t think you want to draw any more attention than you already got,” he growled. “Some of those guys,” he indicated the battered metal door leading back to the rest of the barracks, “They aren’t as nice as I am. None of them got any reason to keep you breathing,”. Grapple paused. “I do. For now at least. If you want to stay this side of the Matrix, you’re going to tell me what I want to know. Got that?”
Rhapsody cringed as the Predacon’s hot sticky breath rolled across her neck. It condensed there, sending a bead of liquid filth rolling down her neck. She tried to inch away, but Grapple held her firm.
“I said, got that?” the tortoise repeated.
Rhapsody spat a wad of mech fluid at him in response. Or rather, tried to. With a mental groan she realized that she’d been gagged as well. Grapple’s mouth twisted into an angry smile. He ripped out the wad of plumage he had been using as a hand hold. A crumpled mass of royal blue feathers floated to the ground.
“Some people never learn,” the Pred mumbled under his breath. Sighing, he beat her with his fists until he heard the bridge of her nose crack. Grapple reached out, wiping blood soaked hands on a bent wing. The beginnings of a smile played across his cruel features. “Still conscious?” he ventured. Rhapsody was too injured to reply. Grapple snorted and laughed.
“You know, I bet you think you’re hot slag, holding out like this. For being all brave and commandely. Big tough girl in a big tough world, right. Been through all the classes that teach you how to deal with torture. Hell, even been tortured once. I hear Rapier did you up real good back in Endport, and that you never uttered a word except to throw it right back in her face,” Grapple smiled in earnest this time. “That’s good Commander,” he continued. “That’s real good. When it came to twisting peoples guts for information…Rapier wasn’t half bad. So what can a grunt like me do but beat you up? Huh?”
The smile died.
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret,” he said in a dangerous voice. “I’m not Rapier. I don’t play the torture game like she did, all her tools and mind warping mumbo-jumbo. I’m just going to hurt you…and hurt you …and hurt you some more until I get what I want. I’m going to make you wish you were dead - an’ I’m going to have fun doing it too,” The smile returned abruptly as Grapple took in the songbird’s pleasing frame. “Lots of fun…” He was interrupted by a knocking at the door.
Grapple twisted around and marched closer as a thin crack formed on the right side. The tortoise grabbed the edge of the door and blocked the aperture with his body. He looked down at the weasely ‘bot whose hand clutched the opposing knob. The intruder was a waifish black Pred with yellow optics. “Did you get it?” he asked immediately.
The ‘bot nodded. “Yeah,” he replied. “I got two, just like you wanted. It was hard to find ‘em, being what they are, but…”
“Fine,” Grapple said quickly, cutting the other off. “Give me one,” The little Cybertronian handed over a small black box. Grapple threw its only switch and nodded as a tiny green light flashed on. “This will do,” he said. Opening a small internal compartment near his hip he inserted the devise, still flashing. He sealed the panel shut.
“Don’t you want the other one?” the smaller ‘bot asked.
“It’s not for me. I want you to jump over to the SiC (square-in-circle) barracks near the amphitheater and give this to a ‘bot named Croak, you got that? Croak. Tell him what it is and who it’s from. Then tell him that our little band of Brig jumpers have landed in town, and that I ‘ain’t going down like the big boss. He’ll know what I mean.”
The little ‘bot’s eyes widened. “Are you insane, they’ll kill me if I even set foot in there!”
“Not my problem,” Grapple replied. “I’m not paying you for nothing. Tell them that tin-head Metallicron sent you. Tell them you’re Megatron reborn, I don’t give a damn. Just do what I tell you, otherwise I’m going to make sure you wind up dead on the pavement someplace nice and dark, got it?” The messenger gulped once and nodded, quickly scurrying away with the second box.
Grapple turned back to face Rhapsody, letting the door swing shut behind him. “Well, now that I’ve got some insurance against that little ghosting prick of yours, it’s time for me to get going,” Striding over to a dingy shelf he picked up a contrastingly shiny metal syringe. It was filled with a dark amber liquid. “Before I do, though, I just want to say one more thing. That thing with Rapier…you got lucky. Your friends busted you out before she could really even get started,” Without ceremony he jabbed the syringe in a joint between her neck and shoulder plating. “But nobody’s going to rescue you this time. Nobody’s going to get you out of this early - except possibly yourself by telling me why you were sent here. I know your friends are out there, and they don’t know a thing about me, or where you are. Pitt, even if they did it wouldn’t matter. I’ve got enough friends here to kill all of your people ten times over,” Grapple wrenched the syringe out with a violent jerking motion. “So you see, you’re pretty well fragged. Think about that while I’m gone. Maybe you’ll be a bit more cooperative the next time we talk,”
Rhapsody’s optics drooped as the sedative took effect. Grapple stood, dropped the needle, and struck her in the stomach for good measure. The Maximal collapsed, but whether it was from the drug or from the pain, he couldn’t be sure. Not that it mattered any. He bent to pick up a single blue feather off the floor. Then he quietly left the room, stepping out into what was now nearly an empty barracks. Rockslide was waiting for him.
“Take her out the back way to where we were talking about. I don’t think it would be a good idea to keep her here,”
Rockslide grinned and nodded. “Too many people to share with,” he agreed. “Mind if I had a bit of fun with her ‘fore I came out to the rally?”
“Knock yourself out,” Grapple replied. “Just don’t untie her. She’s…problematic, and I don’t want her getting away. Don’t kill her either. Need her alive for later,” Rockslide’s grin widened as he continued to nod in what he though was understanding. As the other LC ‘bot made his way to Rhapsody, Grapple left the building, headed for the rally.
He needed to find Croak. Between the two of them, they might be able to take out the Resistance Maximals before they ever knew what hit them.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
[Space - Above Andronicus]
A warp gate opened,
A ship emerged,
A course was set for the planet below,
And inside, a rasping voice pondered the killing to come.
“Soon now,” Scarab whispered to himself. ”Very soon indeed,”
Querion squeezed Timber's hand comfortingly, drawing a smile from the she-wolf. After that bar-fight, she had returned to the barracks and had gotten herself freshened up. Her hair was untied, and cascaded down her shoulders in soft, bouncy curls. She sidled up to her beau, and rubbed her greyish hair against his shoulder lovingly. Querion remained unmoving, watching as the others cleared out.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing."
An awkward silence stood between them, as they started for the citadel. They moved slowly, almost like a stroll in the park, like they were on a date rather than on a mission. Timber gripped Querion's hand tightly, as though afraid he would drift away. He seemed so distant, always shrugging off questions and queries, even when she saw the weight his shoulders bore.
Querion aggravated her. He never said much, always mumbling and stammering whenever he had something to say to her. He couldn't dance, and no matter how many times she tried he never budged. He was like... like a big lump of stone. Querion seldom said what he felt, always locking them up inside, as though afraid of loosing them. He was so unlike her.
Yet, she loved him. She loved his presence, that overwhelming presence that acted instead of spoke, whose warmth protected her from so many things she couldn't remember. Whatever she did, Querion accepted. He never judged her, and for that she was glad. He would always frown whenever she bent the authority to her benefit, but he would always welcome her back with those strong arms.
If only he would learn to loosen up.
"Hurry up, we're losing them," said Timber, transforming into beast mode, and taking off for the citadel, the air filled with her rich laughter.
Querion watched her speed off, and smiled. He transformed too, howled a cry, and ran after her.
Wraith went on alone, a good 30 paces ahead of the others. One weapon? Hide a second? @#%$ that @#%$, if Rhapsody's in trouble, I'm gonna raise such Hell that Primus himself won't be able to save those Preds...
He had set a battery to his katana and sais so that they would deliver an electric charge through any metal substance they came in contact with and set small packets of explosives to his arrows, increasing their explosive power. Oh yeah...somebody was gonna get hurt.
“Catfish! Catfish! Get out here!”
Rita had left the meeting early to get back to looking for her charge. It worried her when ‘Fish went missing. She was pretty sure Catfish’s indomitable luck would keep her relatively safe, but didn’t want to have to pay for anything she demolished.
“Fiiiiiiiish! Where are…”
“Hi Rita!”
Rita stopped and looked around.
“Up here!”
Rita looked up. She stayed that way for a few cycles.
“Isn’t super glue cool?”
“We are going to be late.” Rita informed the world in general.
Vinoc reached into his weapon's locker, he pulled out his hand-gun. He hid his bow-staff in an arm-container. This is gonna become quite painful for those B#$!@$%$.
********
Rudau grabbed her sword, slidding her gun under her 'skirt'. This could be good
********
Tundra reached down, slipping her gun into it's holster, slidding both Vibro-Dagger's into their
“One weapon eh? Hmmmm… let me think.” Relic mused to himself, a hand wrapping around the Katana belted at his side. As for a hold out weapon, he had something in mind. Someone who could not be named for fear of breaking the already tenuous fourth wall had been influencing him. Unfortunately he didn’t have anywhere to keep them… yet. “Ah well…” he murmurs, exposing a bit of the blade of his sword. “I guess these will just have to do.” The assassin drops the point of one of his clawed fingers onto the bit of exposed metal, making an audible clack as blade met blade.
"Try and keep a weapon hidden on me? Pffft..." Dusty muttered dryly to herself, rolling her optics slightly. "Does he think we're brainless or something?" The dingo femme wandered out after the others, the battle staff sheathed on her arm her only visible weapon. Her twin blasters were holstered out of sight in her thigh compartments, while her boomerangs stayed hidden under her back armor plate.
"Hah, yeah, like I'm just gonna let everybody see what weapons I have... yeesh." With that, she switched to beast mode and continued towards the citadel, still muttering to herself under her breath.
In with the bad air, out with the good air. Or was it the other way around? No matter. Buckshot was not a happy camper, but was trying really really hard not to just combust with rage. His mom always told him that if he was going to beat someone down, beat them down calmly and with an end in mind, or else you might just go into overdrive and keep beating them until something you'd regret happened. Buckshot thought he'd done her proud this time; Solarflare was pretty beat up, but nothing he wouldn't recover from in short time.
Besides, Buckshot wanted the finch to be in good shape for future ass-kickings, if needed.
As he walked with Solarflare unconscious over his shoulder, Buckshot stopped and smacked him over the head. The finch twitched, groaned, and his head slowly came up.
"Where...?" he managed.
"Doesn't matter. We gotta talk, you and I." Buckshot growled.
"Bucksh-"
"Shut up. Someone, I dunno, maybe someone you know, was apparently perpetrating some naughty business in a hot tub with my girl. Probably the same dumbass bird who spent the last few months before getting off Gaiana whining about Switchblade, whatever happened to her. Someone, or so I'm told, who couldn't keep his damn hands off of other guys' property, so to speak!!"
"Man, I can explain, I-"
"You don't need to explain, my mom gave me the birds and the bees speech when I was sixty stellar cycles! I know what you were doing, you monkeyf***ing little son of a glitch!"
"Buckshot, calm down!"
"Oh, I'm calm, man. I'm near f'n apathetic over here. You haven't SEEN me angry, oh boy. Now you gonna let me finish or does my fist have to collide with your mouth multiple times until your girlfriend-licking tongue is too swollen to let you talk?"
Solarflare was quiet. Buckshot nodded and continued, the finch over his shoulder looking back at the back of Buckshot's head.
"See, we got places to go, by order of Whats-His-Face who's leading us these days. But, no one said I couldn't make a little stop to a hardware shop on the way over. I need to buy a new pair of hedgeclippers. You're gonna come and help me pick a shiny new pair out so I can test it out...
"On YOU."
-----------------
The door opened and Filch stepped in, glancing around.
"Rita?"
He looked around, frowning.
"Rita?"
"In...here...!!"
The strained reply came from the next door over. Filch turned and opened the door, glancing in warily. Rita had constructed a haphazard assembly of boxes, furniture, and small tables in a vertical column, and was perched at the top of them trying to pry Catfish off of the ceiling. For her part, Catfish was just smiling.
"Er...we're going to be late, aren't we?" Filch asked.
Wraith was still running. He hadn't stopped, and he wasn't going to stop until Grapple's head was hanging off his belt. He was in the rough part of the station now, and the people there weren't the friendliest of sort.
One thug stepped out and pointed a knife at him. "Hey buddy...what's yer rush? Why doncha hold still a second and WHULPH!!!"
Wraith's fist came in contact with the 'bot's gut, making him double over in pain. 3 more stooges stepped out, each armed with daggers. Wraith shot the first in the knee and then kicked him out of the way. The second rushed in and got the wolf's knee slammed into his face, followed by a roundhouse kick to the jaw. Wraith finished the fight by breaking the third 'bot's knee and thowing him into a wall.
Not even pausing to catch his breath (since he hadn't lost it to begin with) he continued to run.
Turning, Dusty notes that Jungle is now along side her, in his panther beast form. At a glance, one could mistake Jungle for his fellow panther-bot; Relic, in this form - but Jungle was all around larger then Relic.
"Talking to yourself Spacedust? They say that's the first sign of loosing your sanity..." Jungle so states in his version of a light tone. Key word there is 'his verson'.
Many had taken insult where none was meant, by Jungle, just from not being able to distingish his various voice tones. Jungle recalls Gaul's parting words; take one weapon with you.... Jungle found amusment in that, for all his toys were built into his frame. That factor had many advantages and dissadvantages - but what is one to do?
Dusty raised an eyebrow at the pantherbot, his sudden appearance not surprising her in the slightest. "And who's t'say I ain't already completely insane, hmm?" The dingo femme grinned widely, her tongue lolling out of the corner of her mouth and her eyes rolling in a parody of someone who's not quite all there. Or at least, Jungle rather hoped it was merely a parody.
thrump
a pause…
thrump
a rest…
thrump
and again…
thrump
and again…
and again…
Even ten blocks away you could hear the sound of it - the heavy pounding beat of a thousand metal boots stamping in unison. It was a deep rumbling noise, felt as much as heard. A pulsating rhythm to herald the heart of the Conformist movement.
There was a decided spring in Metallicron’s steps as he made his way toward the Gaul’s barracks. The movement wide rallies had been his idea originally, and they excited him like nothing else. It was a stroke of pure luck for his old friend to arrive when he did. The Conformists had staged massive rallies before, but never like this. No, tonight was no ordinary night. Jonas was scheduled to speak. Metallicron shivered with anticipation. What would it be tonight? Not even he knew. The enigmatic Transformer never announced his intentions ahead of time. To the best of Metallicron’s knowledge, he didn’t even write out his speeches. It was a feat made all the more amazing given the eloquence with which Jonas spoke.
thrump
again…
thrump
again…
Metallicron smiled absent-mindedly. The stamping had been his as well. It lent the proceedings an air of expectation so thick you could almost touch it. He liked that. He liked that very much. Plutocron, Jonas’s chief military advisor, hated it of course. ‘Frivolous Grandstanding’ he had called it. Since his arrival on Andronicus, Metallicron had come to expect as much from the jaded old Predacon. If the subject of a discussion couldn’t be killed, its dynamics seemed to be completely beyond his grasp. The grin morphed into a self-satisfied smirk. He had enjoyed watching the ex-General sulk after Jonas had approved the rally concept. For all his threatening, Plutocron was as harmless as Rhommer. Knowing that was half the battle with him.
A rough voice brought him back to reality. “Move!” it commanded. Metallicron brought his optics up just in time to sidestep Wraith as he plowed past. The bird ‘bot did a quarter turn, watching the young wolf stalk away. Recognition dawned a few seconds later. Wasn’t that one of Gaul’s crewmen? But he had told them to wait by their barracks…
“Metallicron!” It was another voce - behind him now. Metallicron turned back toward his original destination. It was Gaul.
“Gaul,” the parrot answered, cheerfully waving a hand in greeting. “Well met. I see you couldn’t wait,”
The large gray Maximal put on what passed for a polite smile and drew even with his friend. “Sorry,” he replied, “We got your message and though we could meet you en route,” He paused. “We’ve only been here a day, but some of us are already very excited to hear this leader of yours speak,”
Metallicron beamed and watched as the rest of the Resistance ‘bots filed past. A pair of wolves shot past in their Beast Modes. Farther along, a dingo walked beside a thickly built panther. The two were conversing in low tones. Toward the back a very peeved rottwelier urged a finch ‘bot on at the tip of…was that a baseball bat? The Conformist shook his head in amazement. Gaul had certainly fallen in with a strange and eclectic crowd. In amongst the others he could see a giraffe, a mink, a wildcat (trying desperately to talk to the mink), and many more. An unlikely dolphin-wildcat Fuzor skipped ahead of the rest, feet sticking to the ground with every movement.
Strange.
Very strange.
Perhaps it was only paranoia, but this group had to be the oddest ship's crew ever assembled. Take the multicolored sloth for instance, or the metal tuxedo near the back of the group. None of them looked like spacers. The walk was all wrong for one. The sloth was weaving about, but Metallicron doubted it was the result of zero g exposure. He made a mental note to ask Gaul about it later.
“Excellent,” he said, pushing any doubts aside for the moment. “It’s only a few minutes away. We can be there in plenty of time,”
********************
Thrump
Louder now
Thrump
Louder…
Thrump
Louder…
The noise of it was deafening now, as the small Maximal party waited behind a black stage curtain. Metallicron had taken them around the far side of the amphitheater and through a series of security checkpoints to the backstage area that he claimed was just behind the main lecturn. There he indicated, by way of hand signals mostly, to halt for a moment. The blue parrot ‘bot cupped his hands and leaned close to Gaul’s ear.
“I have to take my place on the left side!” he yelled, just barely audible. “Once I go, wait here for about five minutes, and then come onstage. There’s a tape line about three feet in front of the curtain. Line your people up behind that facing the audience. Half on one side, half on the other. Got it!?!?”
Gaul nodded his confirmation. “Good,” The parrot finished. “Just try to look very military and enjoy the show!” Metallicron gave him a friendly thumbs-up and disappeared through the curtain. Gaul motioned Jungle forward and repeated the instructions. Jungle repeated them to Dusty, who scowled, but repeated them to Relic nearby, and so on. That done, Gaul stepped back and waited. Behind him, the crew exchanged last minute comments.
Caska looked around her, and quickly determined that this could be a rather large embarrassment.
"Alright," she said to those around her, "I've been on plenty of honor gaurds before. Walk in step if you can, use crisp movements, turn towards the audience as one, and then stand as straight and still as possible, until the end, when we do the whole thing in reverse. Depending on what protocol version they use, we may also be required to salute when this Jonas guy comes on.. I guess we'll just have to look at the crowd and see if they're expecting it.. Also, I can radio short cues for simultaneous turns and such if you think its necessary... I sure do.."
"You are so dead." Buckshot contiued but Solarflare had had enough. As the two stood behind ready for the ceremony Solarflare turned around sharply.
"Hey why don't you get a grip. I was drunk, she was drunk and it happened, you can't change it! You know i wouldn't do that under normal circumstances and i think there are more important things that need attention right now. SO use your big mind instead of you little one and we will be set." Solarflare said turning away sharply and walking to Gaul, apologizing and then getting the scoop.
Neither Rita nor Burnout were comfortable discussing relationships. So by silent agreement they’d agreed to bypass the topic completely and chatted about neutral and safe things like weapons, Rocket ball, old disagreements, and what they thought of everyone else.
Rita kept one hand firmly planted on Catfish’s shoulder. The glue was very useful in making sure she didn’t wander off, or at least couldn’t get too far before one of the team noticed, but it was chipping off and you could never be too careful.
The Predacon ship, cloaked to escape notice, touched down with a ghostly clang. No sooner had they made landfall than a square appeared in the middle of the shimmering field. Thirty heavily armed ‘bots filed out with military precision, followed by a darker thirty-first.
“Location,” Scarab hissed.
“Half a mile north, sir,” replied one ‘bot calibrating a portable spark tracker of the latest design. Croak and Grapple’s detailed spark signature, logged in their military files, seemed to be working against them. “There’s considerable interference, but it’s them,”
“Then we move,” Scarab said simply. The group moved out at a steady run. The sounds of the rally filtered down to them through the streets, growing steadily as they moved on.
**********
Thrump
Again…
Thrump
And again…
Thrump
Thrump
Glancing at his chronometer a last time, Gaul motioned to his team. “Let’s go!” he shouted. The sound of it was nearly lost in the cacophony assaulting them from the other side of the curtain. Parting the black drapery he stepped forward onto the stage. The sight that greeted him was nothing short of spectacular. There were ‘bots…everywhere. A sea of them, stretching several hundred meters back, shoulder to shoulder in a block formation. The assembled might of the Conformist movement. There were hundreds of them, flanked by an array of massive vertical banners bearing the Lightning Corps bolt and Conformist Square-in-Circle. And the sound…
It was deafening.
THRUMP
THRUMP
Gaul blinked once and then moved out and to the right, taking up his position on the far right side and confirmed that the rest of his team was doing the same. ‘Finally’, he thought, something he didn’t have to do at gunpoint. He watched as Jungle moved to the far left and nodded to himself. So far so good. Now all they had to do was locate Croak and Grapple. ‘Or let them find you’ a small voice seemed to say. His momentary complacency failed as he remembered just how vulnerable they were on stage. Not the most sure-fire way to get things done. He would have felt more secure given a greater length of time to prepare. But then…he’d read Grapple’s file. Time was a luxury Rhapsody might not have. A quiet fire burned behind his optics. Not even a day, and already compromised. ‘Damn this mission! he swore to himself. They’d all be lucky if they escaped with their lives.
The burly Maximal glanced over to the both where Metallicron sat. The massive Predacon Rhommer stood to one side. A blue-green chameleon ‘bot sat rigidly on the other. The black Square-in-Circle of the Conformist military was displayed prominently across his near shoulder. A disapproving look was plastered across his craggy features. That would be Plutocron for certain. Gaul took a last look filed the image away for reference. The military commander was shorter than he’d imagined - noticeably so. He turned his gaze back to the crowd, searching for Grapple.
**********
Grapple pushed his way through the crowd to his place near the front of the stage. Something deep in his twisted brain told him that he shouldn’t here at all. He was exposed, but he needed to talk with Croak more. Though Grapple had never taken a liking to the old war horse in Endport, he knew that his fellow ex-general was a more than capable individual. Perhaps between the two of them they could string the Maxi’s out to dry.
He saw Croak standing, and stamping, at the edge of one row of military ‘bots. The tortoise pulled up next to the other Predacon. Croak only nodded to acknowledge his presence. The two stared straight ahead, not wanting to draw any undue notice. “D’ja get it?” Grapple rasped over the noise of the crowd. Croak nodded again.
“Do you expect me to thank you?” the bullfrog querried dryly.
“No,” Grapple replied. “Just hedging my bets. I was thinking the two of us…maybe we put our heads together and do a little pest control. I’ve got the bluebird, what’s her name, Rhapsody, hidden away in another part of the city. Managed to surprise the tart outside Satyr-9’s. I figure I can follow ‘em back to where they’re living, and then…”
“Get your so called friends in the Lightning Corps to help you. I’m done with all that,” Croak’s lips twisted into a worried frown. An image had begun to replay in his mind. It was hazy picture, but he could almost feel it again. That wolf ‘bot… Croak almost flinched to remember how close to death he’d come that day. Fraggin Ped military. He’d given them his live, and they never gave a damn. He had almost died before figuring things out. Probably would be dead now, like the other Endport generals, if he hadn’t smelled something rotten. How Grapple got out he never knew.
“They aren’t my friends,” Grapple replied. “LC’s just a bunch of thugs and head-hunters. Aint none of ‘em but that Rhommer believe any of that solidarity slag. Hell, I don’t. They’re all here to break stuff and scare people. Not a bad job, if you ask me. But if they ever found out about Endport…me…and you, I’d make sure of that…would be speaking with the Tri-Preds before the end of the day,” The killer tortoise waited for a response. “Well?” he prodded. “What do you got to say for yourself?” This time Grapple turned to look at the other ‘bot.
“I think,” Croak said slowly, never turning his gaze from the stage, “That they’re tonight’s honor guard,”
The other ‘bot snapped his attention to the podium. Sure enough. They were all there. Well, some of them anyway, and a few others he really didn’t know. But there were enough that he remembered. The sloth who’d run off with Cutter, the mink with the green energy weapon, Croak’s wolf ‘bot, even that contemptible little finch with the plasma breath and explosive charges (He promised himself to kill that one slowly - burn his face off with something painful, layer by metallic layer. It’d be sweet revenge for the burn scars he still carried all across his frame.). He didn’t see his little pet badger femme, but there, near the end standing between a black panther bot - no katana - and a gruff bounty hunter type, was the ghoster. Wraith, he remembered. Grapple snorted with contempt. “We’ll talk later,” he told Croak and moved up to his own place. It was in the sixth row, very near the front in plain view.
**********
At length, Metallicron stood and raised his hands for silence. Beside him Plutocron also rose, though he kept his hands clasped tightly behind his back. The stomping died within five beats, replaced by an unnatural silence. The royal blue parrot allowed a few seconds to pass for dramatic effect. “Brothers!” he bellowed suddenly. “Be welcomed!” There was a roaring cheer lasting nearly half a minute. When it died out, he continued. “We stand on the brink of a new world,” the bird ‘bot said, voice amplified by the house system. “We stand on the brink…of history. A history that we will decide for ourselves!” There was another cheer, longer this time. Metallicron did not wait for it to end. Instead, he pushed through. “And this future,” he continued “This future…this…vision…this genius - we owe it to one person, and one person alone. We owe it to a Cybertronian who has spent his life making that dream your reality. He is the one whom you have all come to follow, and tonight he wishes to speak to us all directly, so that we may better understand the great task that we have undertaken. Please join me in making him welcome…Brother Jonas,”
The audience exploded with an audio piercing cry. Behind the Maximals the velvet curtain withdrew, and a lone ‘bot emerged from the shadows. He walked to the heavy marble podium, and the Maximals could only stare in wonder. Before them, palms outstretched in a gesture of universal acceptance, was one of the most striking ‘bots they had ever seen. He was slate gray and stood something close to ten feet in height. Though slim of build, he carried himself with an air of confidence fitting of a Transformer twice his size. The major planes of his body were composed with the flat metal plates and beveled edges of an Ancient Autobot. The lines of his face, sharper than any Autobot, though, were markedly Predacon. His gleaming boots and gauntlets could have come from many a Maximal, as with the kind winning smile spread across his lips. The deep blue in his optics burned with an intensity that only a Decepticon’s could.
He was beautiful, if that term could be applied to a male robot of any sort. He motioned for silence.
“Friends,” he began softly, letting the amplification system blanket his audience with benevolence. “Brothers,” he continued, voice picking up both volume and momentum. “Builders of a new age… Be welcomed!” The cheering returned, even louder than before. Jonas let it run its course for nearly two minutes, smiling all the while.
“So long as there have been Transformers,” Jonas began, “There has been conflict,” The crowd silenced itself in a moment, giving him their full attention. “First,” he continued, “Between the children of the All-Spark. Later, between two particular siblings. One was called Primus, a God amongst our people. The other was Unicron, The Destroyer,” He paused for dramatic effect, letting his audience hang on a name that had become nearly taboo in Cybertronian society. “In later days,” he said, moving on, “The battles came to be waged on a much more finite scale. The Autobots and Decepticons fought their Great Wars. For what? They gained nothing in the end but pain and death. As legacy they gave not peace, but the seeds of conflict we now see flowering between Maximal and Predacon. The forms have changed, my friends, my brothers, but not the ingrown hatred and distrust each faction holds for the others,”
“Yes! The conflict rages!” he shouted in condemnation. “And why?! Why, after so long…after so much pain, and so much suffering, does each and every one of us seek to hasten our eventual death?! Why?!”
Again, a dramatic pause.
“Because we are different,” Jonas answered in a cool collected voice. “Absolutely, and irrevocably different. Maximal can not be Predacon. Autobot can not be Decepticon. We claim that each individual spark is magnificent and individual, yet at birth we divide ourselves into war-camps. We draw lines in our own sand that make us visibly a part of one faction and not another. We engrave these badges of separation, of conflict, into our very bodies as if untold millennia a war destruction were a thing of honor! I assure all of you here that the havoc wrought by Unicron is but a drop of water in the compared to the squalls to which we have subjugated ourselves!”
Again, a roar of applause. The audience knew what was expected of it, even if many of them did not truly believe Jonas’s words. From his post, Metallicron, however, stood transfixed by the oratory.
“But brother, you say, can we not set aside our differences and work together toward a better world - one in which all may live in peace? I tell you no. We have walked that path a thousand times and it has only led to grief. In an ideal universe perhaps we could, but so long as there is division between us our efforts will crumble and fail. As individuals we will always think of ourselves as better in some way than our neighbor, regardless of the truth. It is our weakness, and a dangerous one, for it leads too easily to belief in factional superiority and the wish to exert control over ‘lesser’ beings. It has hampered us before, and I fear if something is not done to correct it soon, we shall die for our follies.”
“The answer to our dilemma, as I have told you once and again, is a concept so simple that in years past I have been mocked by children in our streets for its mere suggestion: That is, the Abolishment of Factionality. It is simple, yes? All it would take is the renunciation of an outmoded system of social segregation. With programs of mixed breeding, what stands in our way would be but the stuff of stories in mere generations. No faction is superior. None can be, for at heart we are all the same. We are Cybertronian, nothing more and nothing less. Therefore we shall transform ourselves into an new race - a race undivided and unrecognizable as any one faction. In order to save our kind from anihiliation, the many must become the few and those few become as one. I have told you many times of the processes I myself have undergone toward this end. I assure you that our scientists are toiling around the clock to perfect the machine that will work that same magic for you, without the time and without the pain I endured. We must mold ourselves into that new race - a superior race, comprising all the strengths of our kind, and leaving none of the weaknesses. Could we but embrace this ideal…” Jonas’s voice trailed off. His head dipped in mock sadness.
“But we can not, in reality, can we? Though some of us may find our way to enlightenment, there will surely be others…others who can not, will not see the justness of our cause. Brothers, it is my deepest and most profound desire that we may see the day when these sparks of stone see the error of their ways. Yet we can not wait. The time for action has come. We will spread our message to the ends of the universe. And though it causes me great personal sorrow, those who stand in our way…must be removed from the path. Gently if possible, forcefully if necessary. It is a difficult thing, that, but the only way. End the mother, end the brother, end the child, secure in the knowledge that you do it not only for their sakes, but the sake of every mother, every brother, and every child that will ever come into this world. Kill the sister, kill the father, kill the friend, if it will ensure peace for us all. If the factions will not change of their own will, then we must do it for them. Our cause is right! Our cause is just! You will become the first of a new age, and future generations will praise you for the fortitude to forge them new and better lives. It is my supreme pleasure to tell you tonight that the hour of our ascendancy is nearing. Take pride in the decision to fight for you future, and I pray you wait patiently in these last days. Very soon we strike, and the world will finally see the path it was destined to take,”
Jonas raised his right hand high into the air, fist clenched into a compact ball. He shouted. “TILL ALL ARE ONE!!!” The crowd raised their fists as one being and repeated the chant.
TILL ALL ARE ONE!!
TILL ALL ARE O[/b]
Jonas smiled broadly at the repetitive masses and stretched out his arms again in an embracing gesture. Metallicron applauded. Plutocron feigned an interest. Rhommer threw out a meaty fist and bellowed along with the common troops. The chanting continued…
The chanting would have contiued on for hours perhaps but we may never know. As Jonas impacted his fist into the podium once more the ceiling of the great hall exploded in a fireball sending pieces of plaster, metal and tiles raining down into crowd below. Predacons being Predacons deiced they would take it head on snesing that Croak and Grapple were close to the front and would be forced to fight in the on coming battle. The crowd began to flee immedtatly as the Maximals began to draw their weapons. Two beastly Predacons began to slide down ropes large devices in their hands. What they were was hard to tell until one was fired into the crowd. Ionic Explosive rifles. Each weapon fired a huge shell of blue energy that no bot's armor could stand up too. The two bots send blue death raining down into crowd as the spectators poored out into the streets.
Solarflare's Arua exploded in defence. It seemed like an entire Army was assualting the great hall but it was actually the 30 most trained Predacons with the best weaponary on Cybertron. "OPEN FIRE!!!!" Gaul screamed as 10 Predacon soilders appeared from backstage. Energy defence shield, Ionic Rifles, beam sabres that cut metal like air and nearly every one was a TM2 holding some secret power. The Maximals turned and fired. The combined might of Maximal special Unit was impressive as well. A fireball impacted the ground in front of the Predacon troops as Solarflare fired his MK-5 as well. Energy of all kind began to strike the shields of the Predacon Assualt team. Querion and Timber were seen pulling there blades and diving on a bear type Transformer whose TM2 power seemed to be super strength. 5 more Predacons came from the ceiling firing pulses as lighning corps and conformist Military Poured into the room attacking the Predacons but being cut down but Ion pulse.
The targets were clearly the Maximals however as Scarab noticed that they were Honor guard. "Destory the maximals first." He said over the comm link. Jonas moved in between the Maximals as Gaul asserted himself infront of Jonas. "Stick by me." he said slaming a Predacon troop with the AX end of his war hammer and simply pissing him off. The lobster predacon grabbed Gaul around the waist the cla was quickly sliced off by Wraith. THe wolf seemed to be in a frenzy, blurring back and forth, Him and Gaul slicing the lobster into pieces. Wraith finished with a death blow to the spark and leaped into the crowd landing directly in front of Croak...
"YOU!" Corak yelled pulling his missle launcher and firing...
Graphics Provided by Riboflavin
