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Chapter Six! Well, the first half of Chapter six. My DA fun continues, because apparently this chapter is larger than 64K worth of text, which seems to be the limit on artists' comments. Ah well, I'll just post the second half separately. Hope you enjoy!
Feedback over the last couple of chapters has been pretty interesting, I'd encourage everyone to takes the time to read this to comment and leave their thoughts (within a reasonable amount of text, please). I love specifics. If you don't like something, please explain why, I'm curious. If you liked a particular part, what was it and why? As I've said before, this whole thing has already been written, so it's fascinating to me to see how people react to it and predict how you'll react to the next parts. I can't say I've been too surprised so far... a little, but not terribly. I think from this point on it's best for me to stand off to the side a bit. I'm not going to defend, explain, or discuss what I'm doing unless someone specifically asks me to, because nothing I say or write is going to change your impression of what's being done. Anyway, enough from me, onto the story...

Transformers vs Gobots: Chapter 6

The remains of Iacon were caught in a bold silhouette against the eruptions. A thick wall of rippling heat slammed into both Prime and Leader-1 through the hole in the building and forced them to throw their hands up in a protective gesture. When it stopped, they 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, no satisfaction. The Gobot glanced 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 lit 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 try to 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 spiking 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. Prime forced his hands to wrap around Leader-1's wing 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 surrounding buildings. 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 final assault from Fort Max and 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. 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 Scooter were on their feet 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 glancing aim at the sources of the resistance, but aim was no longer a main 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 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 flickered 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, trying desperately 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 a 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, only a fraction of what it was when he arrived on this world, 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, curving 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 without any casualties! We're still pulling Autobots out of the rubble for Primus' sake!"
"And everyone 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 crumpled 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 retrieval efforts. Now that the Command Centers were gone, communications were slowly picking back 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, no one 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 they traveled through was littered with large hunks of scrap metal, wreckages, like a destructive whirlwind had blown through that sector 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 area 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 noticeably 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. "I’ll do whatever needs to be done 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 know 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."

To be continued...

Description
Chapter Six! Well, the first half of Chapter six. My DA fun continues, because apparently this chapter is larger than 64K worth of text, which seems to be the limit on artists' comments. Ah well, I'll just post the second half separately. Hope you enjoy!
Feedback over the last couple of chapters has been pretty interesting, I'd encourage everyone to takes the time to read this to comment and leave their thoughts (within a reasonable amount of text, please). I love specifics. If you don't like something, please explain why, I'm curious. If you liked a particular part, what was it and why? As I've said before, this whole thing has already been written, so it's fascinating to me to see how people react to it and predict how you'll react to the next parts. I can't say I've been too surprised so far... a little, but not terribly. I think from this point on it's best for me to stand off to the side a bit. I'm not going to defend, explain, or discuss what I'm doing unless someone specifically asks me to, because nothing I say or write is going to change your impression of what's being done. Anyway, enough from me, onto the story...

Transformers vs Gobots: Chapter 6

The remains of Iacon were caught in a bold silhouette against the eruptions. A thick wall of rippling heat slammed into both Prime and Leader-1 through the hole in the building and forced them to throw their hands up in a protective gesture. When it stopped, they 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, no satisfaction. The Gobot glanced 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 lit 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 try to 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 spiking 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. Prime forced his hands to wrap around Leader-1's wing 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 surrounding buildings. 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 final assault from Fort Max and 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. 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 Scooter were on their feet 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 glancing aim at the sources of the resistance, but aim was no longer a main 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 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 flickered 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, trying desperately 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 a 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, only a fraction of what it was when he arrived on this world, 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, curving 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 without any casualties! We're still pulling Autobots out of the rubble for Primus' sake!"
"And everyone 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 crumpled 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 retrieval efforts. Now that the Command Centers were gone, communications were slowly picking back 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, no one 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 they traveled through was littered with large hunks of scrap metal, wreckages, like a destructive whirlwind had blown through that sector 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 area 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 noticeably 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. "I’ll do whatever needs to be done 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 know 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."

To be continued...