Headstrong: Part 1
A fanfic by Bill T. Taylor
a.k.a. RedStreak
In the night sky of Earth, the brightest star was a gold beacon. In reality, it was not a star, it was planet Cybertron, only slightly fainter even when light years away. Now, slowly drifting further and further out into the galaxy, Cybertron still remained brilliant both in the eyes and minds of humans on Earth.
Over the skies of Cybertron, fireworks went off in a grand display as the Ark 3 soared over the cityscape, returning from Earth with Skylynx and Superion escorting it to either side. The Ark 3, returning from an equally spectacular launch from Mount Saint Hilary on Earth just four months earlier, marked a historic occasion - it had been twenty-five years exactly since the Great War began and, in turn, four million years (give or take a hundred or two) since the exodus of Autobots from Cybertron.
RedStreak clicked off the monitor. “Typical. While everyone at home is celebrating, here we are, stuck at the tail-end of the galaxy, on some survey mission,” the Autobot groaned.
The Silverstreaker, one of the newest exploration ships in the Cybertron fleet, sailed through the galaxy on a mediocre cruise. Currently, it and its crew of Autobots, RedStreak among them, were surveying the massive Karicon Nebula, one of the largest in the galaxy. Aside from the aesthetic beauty of its vapor filaments, astronomical curiosity, and potential for settlement among its forming star systems, the Karicon Nebula had the infamous planet Char lurking amid its veiled clouds.
Highbrow checked the sensor readings off the port bow. The wicked planet was already coming into scanner range. “Focus on our task at hand, RedStreak,” he said to the impulsive young Autobot, “We’re approaching Char. As distasteful my function and duty in this explorative endeavourer is….”
“Aw quit complaining, Highbrow,” Brainstorm spoke up, “Give RedStreak a break. Besides, everyone knows Char’s been abandoned for almost three years now.”
From inside Highbrow’s head, Gort spoke. “Yeah, but I agree with what Prime said; it wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep tabs on it.”
“Whatever, Gort,” RedStreak said, sitting at his station with an elbow leaned against the console in boredom, “Just wake my diagnostics when we get there.”
The Silverstreaker veered to its right. The dark gray sphere of Char came into view, the dull red of the nebula hanging in the background as the Cybertron ship descended. Below, many dead cities littered the planet’s surface – burned out remains of the aptly named planet’s indigenous civilization. Even now little was known of this world, even with the eviction of the Decepticons from charted space in 2007, two years ago.
This was not an archeological mission though. The ship hovered over a sizeable ledge on the mountainside, descending with occasional puffs of blue flames from its descent thrusters. It settled, leaving skid marks in the black sand around its landing gear. A ramp opened on the starboard side, the Autobots exiting in their vehicle forms with the Nebulons in their exosuits. They looked toward a single ragged path weaving over the mountains.
“Brainstorm and I,” said Arcana, pointing to the plains below, “will survey the nearest abandoned city and the adjacent terrain. Highbrow, Gort, I presume you and our young friend will do the task of…overlooking the old Decepticon base?”
“It will be brief, but thorough,” Gort stated, stepping inside Highbrow’s cockpit. Once it closed, Highbrow’s wing-mounted rotors spun up, hoisting him into the air. Slowly he flew toward the mountains while RedStreak followed on the ground. Brainstorm with Arcana flew in the opposite direction, away from the menacing peaks.
RedStreak encountered sharp bumps from the gravel-laden path, encumbering his ride up. “I wish I could fly like you guys!” he radioed to Highbrow and Gort, “As much as I’m used to the open road, I’m getting plain sick of it!”
“Ha,” Highbrow haughtily laughed, “To attain my aerial and atmospheric maneuvering abilities, your exoframe would require an immense deal of modification! And given your lack of a secondary operator as well….”
“Enough,” Gort interrupted Highbrow, “We’re here.” On the opposite side of the mountains lay a broad, cracked mesa that was the most desolate of any region on Char. On it rested numerous bunkers, fueling stations, and all manner of structures encircling a monstrous-looking complex. “Trypticon.”
Highbrow landed and transformed, Gort merging to form his head. “Ugh,” he shuddered, “Even in his inert, offline state that Decepticon beast makes me uneasy.”
Inside Highbrow’s head, Gort checked between visuals of the forgotten Decepticon-city and RedStreak, still in firebird form on the ground. “RedStreak,” the Nebulon Headmaster commander said, “Do your sensors detect any sign of life, activity from there?”
RedStreak transformed and looked to Highbrow/Gort. Shaking his head, he answered, “No, nothing at all. For all looks, appearances, and readings from my proximity sensors, Trypticon is dead…or at least in a low, powered-down stasis lock.”
Gort shook his head while gazing at the empty enemy city. “Seems too unbelievable.”
“Not really,” Highbrow said in his opinion, “Without the other Decepticons to maintain or recharge him, Trypticon’s condition would naturally deteriorate over a given time. By my calculations, the dust accumulating on his vents and circuits alone would….”
“Alright, alright,” Gort said, not willing to draw into another of Highbrow’s lengthy discussions, “Seems the dragon’s been put to rest…permanently. Let’s….”
The ground started to shake, much to RedStreak and Highbrow’s surprise. They looked toward the Decepticon city, unable to believe as ruined structures crumbled as Trypticon himself transformed. The Autobots, and Nebulon, looked up with shocked faces as Trypticon stood upright, casting a shadow on the barren wasteland about him.
“Oh slag on a scrap pile,” RedStreak uttered with wide optics, “He’s…online!”
As RedStreak and he slowly backed away from the monster’s direction, Highbrow fearfully added, “There…there must have been some…back-up power reserve he hadn’t accessed!”
“This is not going to be good,” Gort said. He began manipulating various controls, preparing to assist Highbrow in battle. “I’ll radio Arcana and Brainstorm to warn them…..”
“Wait a minute,” RedStreak said to him, “Look!” Without even passing a glance over the puny pair of Autobots, Trypticon took to the air, flying away from Char itself. Arcing his head to follow his flight, RedStreak posed a question. “Where does he think he’s headed?”
Highbrow, his optics scanning and calculating Trypticon’s trajectory, gave a direct suggestion. “Let’s follow him and find out.”
In the Silverstreaker Brainstorm, Highbrow, RedStreak, Gort, and Arcana vigilantly pursued the reanimated Trypticon from a good distance – a solid million clicks. Arcana, monitoring Trypticon’s path very carefully, said to the others, “This should keep us just out of range of his optical scanners – we certainly can’t risk a head-on confrontation with him.”
“Ironic for a Headmaster to pose such a phrase,” RedStreak joked.
“Keep your eyes on those long-range detectors,” Highbrow reminded RedStreak, “Do you detect any planetoids or other objects in his path thus far?”
RedStreak turned to his console, taking a serious look for once. The ship’s telescopic readings came to him. “Looks like he’s headed toward one ugly looking planet in the G7-nine system,” he reported, “Fifth planet from the looks of it.”
A large world, roughly twice that of Earth in mass and size, came into view. About its equator was a broad set of sand-colored rings, a second, darker set crisscrossing the first as a significant angle. Below were toxic clouds that all but obscured the surface beneath. As inhospitable a place it was, Trypticon seemed bound for it.
“Prepare for atmospheric entry. We’re not going to lose him,” Gort said.
They crossed between the gaps in the rings, hot on Trypticon’s trail. However, hidden amid the myriad of house-sized ring particles appeared an artificial satellite. As the Silverstreaker passed by, a small set of lights beeped on it, sensing the Autobot vessel. The satellite whirled about, targeting the Silverstreaker as the Decepticon icon glittered off one panel.
An explosion went up in the aft section of the Silverstreaker. “What the heck?” RedStreak yelled, finding himself tossed to the opposite side of the cockpit.
Highbrow’s arms gripping the steering column, Gort exclaimed, “An explosion in our secondary fuel lines! We’re going down…fast!” The Silverstreaker plummeted down toward the planet in a spiral. It passed through the clouds, gone from sight.
The forward ramp of the Ark 3 lowered down. Optimus Prime, Hound, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Jazz, and Gold Bug all proceeded to roll out in a giant row from it all at once. As they paraded down Cybertronic Way, Iacon’s broad and prestigious main roadway, hundreds of Cybertronians were lined along its fringes cheering and hooting merrily as the original team of the ‘Ark 1’ marked the return to Cybertron.
Blaster, in his boom box form, sat in Hound’s passenger seat, well aware of the crowd they were drawing. “Man oh man! This is definitely a homecoming well worth remembering!” Blaster said with a tune in his voice.
“Yeah, although in my opinion,” Hound stated, “it was about four million years overdo!”
Sunstreaker, driving alongside the green tracker Autobot, wholly agreed. “No kidding!”
The team enjoyed the cheering immensely as they drove toward a giant stage erected along one side of Cybertronic Way. Five of the Autobots swung about, driving up the left ramp attached to the stage while Prime drove up the right ramp. They transformed and stood in line behind a bronze podium where Optimus Prime stood before. The crowds gathered in silence, eager to hear the words of their legendary leader.
“Friends, Autobots, Cybertronians all,” Optimus Prime began, “After so many eons of strife, war, and madness, a second golden age has come to Cybertron.” A roar of enthusiasm came from the crowd, but Prime held up one hand, politely requesting silence. “As great and momentous a day this is, I must bear the burden of reminding us all what it cost to achieve this dream. Over many a stellar cycle, Autobots have fallen in our war; of those, only a few I knew personally: Ironhide, Prowl, Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Brawn are among those I remember best – all good Autobots, brave even in our darkest hour.” Optimus Prime lowered his head, a moment of weakness pausing his words.
As the crowds and his fellow Autobots felt his pain, Prime raised his head up and spoke again. “We owe our very sparks to the sacrifices of those such as them, and to honor both those who came before us and those of my crew who were unable to live to see the golden age come again, I wish to dedicate this memorial to them all.”
Behind the stage, five linear, crate-like structures cracked apart. As aluminum plating fell, five monumental statues, twice the height of the tallest Gestalt, were unveiled. They were of solid bronze, so perfect in construction and accurate in form to put the Colossus of Rhodes of ancient Earth to shame.
“May the unveiling of this memorial to our best heroes,” quoted Prime as the crowds applauded, “mark the final end to all wars on Cybertron, and a new beginning for….”
A rumbling came from the heavens above. The final words of Optimus Prime’s dedication were cut short, a small starship falling from above. It began to fragment, small pieces beginning to scatter over parts of Cybertron as it flew towards Iacon itself.
Skylynx stood up. “I’ll shoot it down before it comes within two clicks of the surface!” he assuredly said.
Hound peered with his eyes as Skylynx stretched his wings and opened his turret-laden maw. The sensor array in his shoulder-mounted cannon seemed to tingle slightly, but he tried to figure out what it meant. Then his eyes grew.
“Hold it Skylynx! There’s an Autobot onboard that thing! Hold your fire!” he yelled. It came a millisecond too late. Skylynx jerked, hearing Hound’s warning, but already fired. His plasma bolt clipped the portside of the vessel, a sizeable chunk of its wing breaking away.
Optimus Prime turned to Superion, still standing beside the Ark 3 just a block away. Via his com-link he yelled, “Superion! Grab that falling ship before it hits the street – but be careful! There’s an Autobot onboard!”
Superion bellowed, “Roger Prime!” as he jumped into the clear Cybertronian skies. Blue contrails lay in the air, Superion rushing head-on with the descending ship. It smashed into his torso, Superion flying backwards along with it now, Iacon at his back.
“Got to…UGH…slow this thing…DOWN!” Superion groaned, wrapping his arms about the ship’s sides. His fingers dug into the metal, and he stretched out his legs. The boosters within them fired, but still the ship’s course was set straight for Iacon at full speed.
Prime, still seeing the ship hurtling toward them, acted fast. “Everyone, clear out!” he ordered. The Autobots around him quickly scattered, anticipating a catastrophic crash.
Superion was still pitted against the ship, straining his turboshafts and servos. “UGH! DAMN YOU COME ON!” he cursed the starship, “LIKE SLAG I’M GONNA LET YOU CRASH INTO MY FRIENDS! RAAAGH!” He fired his feet thrusters at maximum, overloading his flight systems. Suddenly, his grip slipped. The ship slid by in a flash, but Superion managed to catch the tail section, his fingertips digging into it. But then, with a tearing noise, Superion flung back with the rear third of the ship.
The ship, now more a falling debris field than a spacecraft, plunged beyond control at speeds still exceeding mach two. Autobots on Cybertronic Way jumped, the ship colliding head-on with the pavement. Metal grinding in a wicked screech, the starship bounded off the sides of neighboring buildings, leaving a huge streak that stained the otherwise flawless gold street, pieces of the ship breaking off and flying in all directions. In the final stretch, the ship fishtailed big-time, ramming clear through the stage Prime had been standing on just minutes before, thudding to a final stop at the base of Prowl’s statue.
“Repair, salvage crews!” Optimus Prime ordered to the site.
Sideways and Strafe came to what once was the main hatch on this vessel. They pried it open, and inside were Arcana, Gort, and RedStreak…more battered-looking than imagineable. Taking a step out, RedStreak fell to his knees. His left arm reached toward an open, sparking wound in his side. “Tell Prime…we…ugh…..”
RedStreak fell flat on his face, his optics flickering as he went into stasis lock.
Roughly two megacycles later, Perceptor and the Technobots were working on RedStreak’s exostructure at New Nelicon Hospital, just outside of Iacon. In an adjacent room, Optimus Prime watched through a clear window with the concern he shared for any injured in battle.
“Perceptor told me his wounds were deep, some nearly as far as his spark chamber. What happened?” he asked, glancing toward the smaller Headmasters, Gort and Arcana.
“The worst,” Gort summed it up in two words.
“Elaborate, and tell me…where’s Highbrow and Brainstorm?” Prime desired to know. From the words of the Nebulons, a tale like this was spun:
Not even an hour after crashing, Highbrow, Brainstorm, and RedStreak were all enchained around the necks. Captured, they were forcefully led into a giant dome-shaped chamber, at the center of which was a large platform of platinum and silver with a long red carpet trailing to it. Two thrones, one large, the second small, were situated on the platform in turn – one seated by Zarak, the other, Galvatron.
“Well, well,” Zarak, dressed as a Nebulon emperor in violet rags and diamond bracelets, said to the three Autobots, “What have we here, Galvatron?”
Galvatron stood to his feet as Scourge and Fracus pulled on the chain, forcing the Autobots closer. A smile, a sight no living creature would dare wish to see on Galvatron’s face, appeared on his faceplate. “It has been a long time, Autobots, a very, very long time…indeed.”
“Galvatron,” RedStreak softly said, gazing up at the Decepticon lord.
Scourge shoved RedStreak to his knees harshly. “That’s LORD Galvatron of the Decepticons to you, Auto-scum!”
Highbrow also looked upon Galvatron in disbelief. “How…can this be?”
Zarak stood, his one eye glaring at the Autobot. “Ah, you seemed surprised that we still exist, alive and well on this world too.”
“At least it gives me relief,” Gort spoke up from Highbrow’s head, “that you and the Hive aren’t on Nebulos any longer!”
Zarak’s eye seemed to widen, an expression of delight on his face. “Ah! Gort! Still inside that chrome and silica shell I see? Well, well. You and the Nebulons will no longer be relieved then – you see, with the help of our Decepticon comrades, I plan to return to Nebulos…to rule.”
“What?” Brainstorm yelled, even with the threat of Scourge and Fracus at his back.
“Don’t be so surprised, Brainstorm,” Galvatron said, walking up to the Headmaster, “You think I’d let Prime take Cybertron from the Decepticons so easily? Hardly! But…then again, why should I be interested in Cybertron any longer? Here on Galvinok, I RULE!”
“And soon,” Zarak added, “the rest of the galaxy will be ours to rule as well.”
Galvatron turned to Scourge and Fracus. “Scourge, Fracus, take these prisoners to the interrogation hall. Although I hadn’t intended to use it until we captured Optimus himself…I think it might due for these five and extracting any tactical data their banks may contain.”
As Brainstorm stared blankly at Galvatron, a secret conversation went on with Arcana inside. “Arcana,” Brainstorm told his comrade via his cranium consoles, “You and Gort separate from us. You still have a chance to escape.”
“Escape, without you and Highbrow? We can’t just leave you here!” Arcana protested.
“Please, for once don’t argue with me,” Brainstorm insisted, “When Prime learns we’re trapped here, they’ll send for rescue ships. But unless you, Gort, and RedStreak warn him…he won’t know Galvatron’s coming until he’s barreling down his throat.”
Arcana breathed heavily. “Alright. You and Highbrow buy us a minute of distraction. We’ll find a way off this rock,” the Nebulon promised.
As Highbrow and Brainstorm began to stand up, willing to be taken away, their heads sprang up in a flash. Transforming, Arcana and Gort fired on RedStreak’s chains, his bonds falling to the floor in pieces.
“WHAT? SEIZE THEM YOU MORONS!” Galvatron yelled angrily.
Scourge and Fracus turned toward the freed Nebulons, but Brainstorm and Highbrow bolted at them in their headless form. The two Nebulon Headmasters looked to RedStreak for further assistance as their Autobot counterparts struggled to aid them.
“RedStreak, transform and get us out of here!” Gort suggested.
“Don’t have to tell this Autobot twice!” replied RedStreak. Promptly he changed, switching to four wheels as Gort and Arcana opened his doors, diving in as the Autobot floored his engine at top speed.
Zarak looked to the headless Autobots. “Your companions were too bold for their own good. They’ll never escape from Galvinok alive…and neither will you two.”
They returned to the Silverstreaker and managed to blast-off, but not without some chase from the Decepticons. Six-Shot and Astrotrain were in close pursuit, firing on the defenseless Autobot ship.
“You keep firing,” Six-Shot said to Astrotrain, “I’m going after the clowns inside!” The engines of his suborbital jet mode fired up, flinging him alongside the Autobot vessel. “Knock, knock!” he mockingly yelled, transforming into a hovering blaster. With one bolt he blew the side of the ship in. Transforming to robot form, the Decepticon quickly flew inside.
“We’ve got intruders!” Arcana yelled, an alarm at his station going off.
RedStreak got up from the pilot console. “You take care of navigation,” he told Arcana, “Gort and I will evict our unwelcome guest.” RedStreak clicked his blaster on, Gort leaping down from one of the oversized seats and running alongside him, the airlock sealing behind.
They confronted Six-Shot in the rear hall. Gort fired first, but Six-Shot’s armor was barely even scorched. “Ha! Is that your best?” mocked the Decepticon. With little more than a kick, he knocked Gort aside, leaving it between him and RedStreak.
“Hey! The guy maybe small,” RedStreak began to say. He drew his blaster, shooting Six-Shot twice, enough to knock him back. “But he’s with me you big cog!”
Six-Shot recovered fast. He didn’t bother shooting back as RedStreak continued to fire. “You think you’re such hot stuff for an Autobot, don’t you?” Six-Shot asked. He transformed to beast mode, snarling as he glared at RedStreak. “Well when I’m done, you’re not going to even be scrap!”
The winged wolf-bot pounced hard. Gort groaned, getting up with a moan. His Nebulon ears heard horrible screaming and tearing. To his horror, RedStreak was pinned down, Six-Shot literally ripping into his innards with his bare teeth, grabbing mouthfuls of wires and cables and snapping them apart, RedStreak howling in total agony, the floor starting to ooze with mech-fluid and oil. Gort then spotted RedStreak’s weapon, tossed aside during the struggle.
“Yeah,” Gort told Optimus Prime, not liking having to retell the gore, “He would have killed RedStreak, then me and Arcana. It was lucky I knocked him out with RedStreak’s gun, long enough to chuck him off the ship.”
“Terrible,” Prime sighed, watching as Perceptor and the Technobots tried to piece back the downed Autobot, “Six-Shot is, as the humans would say, a cold S.O.B.” He turned to directly face Arcana and Gort, balling up his fist. “Before today, I was hoping never to see such carnage ever again. Perhaps I was also foolish in believing our enemies were gone forever.”
Prime went to a storage hanger, not far from the hospital. Inside was a giant arsenal of Autobot weapons, stowed away and locked up, as the ‘golden age of Cybertron’ would never have use for such things. Down the hall, we went to a locker labeled with individual Autobots’ names. Opening the one with his name, Prime took out his old blaster. He wiped the dust off, and switched the safety off. “Looks like some things will never change,” he told himself, seeing his reflection in the barrel.
On Galvinok, halfway across the galaxy, another leader was preparing for an inevitable battle. Zarak donned his Headmaster exosuit just as his chamber door opened. Rudely Galvatron entered, Zarak quickly locking the head portion back into place as he turned to look upon him.
“What is it you want now?” Zarak sighed in an arrogant tone.
“Are you Hive members ready?” Galvatron bluntly asked.
“We’ve been ready for two years, Galvatron, you should know that.”
“Ha!” Galvatron laughed, “You weren’t so ready when Fortress Maximus tore us apart last time! It was a miracle we got your flying junk pile to this planet!”
Zarak stood up to Galvatron, despite being little higher than the Decepticon’s knees. “Don’t take that tone with me, Galvatron,” Zarak raised his voice, “Were it not for me and my people, you and your Decepticons would be lying in the recycling bin before the Autobots’ feet! It was I that restored Scorpinok and I that found useable resources to recharge your own forces on this planet.” Pointing a finger to Galvatron, he further added, “Remember, you need us now.”
Galvatron’s face turned a harsh scowl. In a growling voice, he simply said as he turned back to the door, “You’d just better be ready this time.”
Once Galvatron was gone, Zarak secretly reached for a drawer built into his chamber walls. Reaching inside, he pressed a hidden button. Near-by, a panel opened, an entire computer console deploying from the wall. Zarak switched it on, an image of Monzo appearing on it. “Monzo, are your Headmasters ready to be deployed to Nebulos?”
Monzo replied, “Yes, and we know what you wish us to do Lord Zarak. But tell me, why aren’t we bringing the Targetmasters as well? Or informing Galvatron?”
“Galvatron may be powerful, but he’s too stupid and too big a risk to be informed of the Hive’s plans. As for the Targetmasters,” Zarak explained, “we need to maintain the illusion that we are still ‘helping’ Galvatron’s insane cause. Now ready the others – we’ll be moving out within the hour.”
On that same day on Galvinok, the alien world trembled as forces rallied for war. Energon pumps disconnected from the Scorpinok and Trypticon complexes, Hive-built drone machines completing the final repairs to Trypticon and retrofits to Scorpinok as well. The Decepticons marched inside the twin war machines, both firing thrusters and slowly rising from the surface. The red, mottled clouds of Galvinok soon passed beneath them, the faint star-like glow of Cybertron lying ahead.
At Iacon, Cybertron, the Autobots were informed of the Headmasters’ discover, and were preparing as well. Weapons that had gone unused for nearly three years were redistributed among the fighters, fully loaded and prepared. Autonomous turrets and defense screens powered up, radar sweeping Cybertronian airspace constantly.
Prime was not without confidence, but also not without concern. Arcana and Gort were present, but not their component Autobots nor the other Headmasters and Targetmasters. With Ultra Magnus and the two Nebulons beside him Prime stated, “We’re more than prepared for what Galvatron has to throw at us, but with Cerebros and the others to back us up, I’m almost worried.” He glanced down to Arcana and Gort. “Gort, Arcana, you do not have to fight with us this time. I’d be more than willing to loan you a shuttle to return to your home world….”
“No, Optimus Prime,” Gort refused, “You helped us on Nebulos before and the least we can do is help you on Cybertron.”
“It is the only fair thing,” Arcana pointed out, “Besides, we can not just allow Brainstorm and Highbrow to be at your enemies mercy. They’re a part of us as well now.”
Prime liked these Nebulons’ attitudes. A beeping came on the console though, drawing Prime’s attention. Speaking directly to the computer, he asked, “What is it Teletran-3?”
The computer beeped back in a dry voice akin to Teletran-1’s, “Sensors detect two massive, incoming objects.”
“Decepticons?” Ultra Magnus asked.
Beeping, the computer replied to the Autobot’s inquiry, “Confirmed. Identification of energy signatures identical to Decepticons; trajectory analysis indicates origin of objects G7-nine system, planet Galvinok. Probability of Decepticon presence at ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine, eight, one percent.”
“I definitely don’t like those odds,” Optimus Prime said, “Ultra Magnus, initiate planet-wide alert. All units on full alert.”
“I’m betting the Hive is with them too,” Gort said.
“Then they and the Decepticons will be in for a fight they’ll never forget,” Prime said.
Trypticon and Scorpinok, loaded down with armaments and Decepticon warriors, were now drawing dangerously close to their target. Strangely, on the side of Scorpinok, a minor airlock door opened. Snapdragon, Apeface, Weirdwolf, and Mindwipe squatted near it in their beast modes, Monzo, Vorath, Krunk, and Spasma standing across from them.
Weirdwolf barked in his shriek-like voice, muttering crazily, “Why Zarak want us here? Yes why? Galvatron need us to fight on Cybertron. Yes, on Cybertron!”
“Will you and your multiple personality programming shut up for one minute?” Monzo yelled at his binary-bonded counterpart, “This is a special assignment – we are to go to Nebulos.”
Mindwipe laughed. “Bah! Why should we return to your stinking little planet? We Decepticons have larger battles to fight!”
Vorath gave Mindwipe an answer. “Because we’re your heads!” Leaping up, he transformed and merged with the bat, creating a whole Decepticon warrior. Vorath immediately took over Mindwipe’s motor controls, directing him as he pleased. “You’re taking us to Nebulos, and quite frankly, none of you have any choice in the matter!”
Mindwipe snarled, “Why you stinking little….”
Suddenly his own hand slapped him in the face. Vorath snapped to Mindwipe, “You do as we say, NOW! UNDERSTAND?”
Krunk, Monzo, and Spasma forcibly merged with their Decepticons, and directed them to their will. One by one Mindwipe, Weirdwolf, Apeface, and Snapdragon jumped out and flew off in a different direction. Moments later they vanished mysteriously.
Galvatron, onboard Trypticon, was unaware of the events transpiring among his own forces. His mind was all to focused on the battle with Cybertron itself. “Finally, at last, I shall regain my world, my throne!” A screen on the console displayed Cybertron, zooming in on Iacon, the one city he despised above all others. “Soon,” he assured himself, “Iacon, the Auotbots, and Optimus Prime will be but memories on my databanks….”
To Be Continued….