Transformers: A History Lesson Part 2
Sep. 9th, 2009 12:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
angelophile
Finally I present my own story - taking place during the period depicted in Cybertron: The Middle Years, it focuses on Runabout and Runamuck, the Decepticon Battlechargers, who can be best summarised as the Beavis and Butthead of the Transformers universe. Or perhaps the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, as I definitely took pleasure in putting them in the wrong place at the wrong time in this story and blurring history a little. It's possibly my only complete fanfic because, frankly, I'm flakey and never finish anything. And I was always quite pleased with it. Those who are fans of Transformers through the Michael Bay movies will be pleased to know shit blows up. A lot.
"Tag, you're it!"
Roundhouse staggered forward, a hefty shove from behind sending him reeling towards the first of his attackers. A stab of pain sent his systems wild, blacking out vision for a moment, as he fell forwards, desperately trying to keep his footing. He was in trouble and he knew it.
Suddenly his vision cleared, revealing the white and gold Decepticon looming towards him, but the momentum was too much, he was unable to anything but brace himself for the coming blow. The Decepticon grinned behind his faceplate and with a manic cackle swung his rifle in a sudden blow to Roundhouse's temple. The Autobot faltered, dropping to his knees before a clumsy foot struck again in his back and sent him sprawling. His outstretched arm caught on a pipe hanging from one of the ruins and sent his gun spinning from his grasp. All in all Roundhouse was not having a good day.
Runabout and Runamuck, on the other hand, were having the time of their lives. A brief excursion into Autobot territory was providing the Battlechargers with no end of depraved entertainment. Here on the fringes of Ibex's borders, amongst the ruins of the long dead city state, they had run across a lone data courier. It was the only bit of excitement that their trip out from the citadel at Helex so far had to offer. The pair seldom managed to leave the confines of the palace, to patrol the ruins of Cybertron's cities, but the occasional pocket of resistance was sufficient payoff for these 'excursions'.
Although their immediate superiors were scathing of the Battlechargers' effectiveness, they seemed to have won a place in the heart of the current Decepticon commander Trannis. Other's saw it as a symptom of Trannis' growing madness that he seemed to regard the Battlechargers as the ideal Decepticons. Effective, destructive, and above all mindless, subject to the sick whims of the premiere. Trannis had a special affection for Decepticons who followed his orders blindly and without question, and this had probably been the reason for him promoting the two Decepticons to be his personal bodyguards.
However, for Runabout and Runamuck there was danger in making such friends. Many regarded Trannis as a relic, a washed out shade who must be annihilated if the Decepticons were to survive as a race. Already a massive party of Decepticons had fled the planet, to colonise far flung planets across the galaxy, led by a calculating Decepticon general known as Jhiaxus. Rumours were rife within the court of pots and counterplots, plans to annihilate Trannis, and the Warlords own plans to terminate those who crossed him.
The Battlechargers, for their part, had no involvement in such subterfuge, indifferent to Trannis' ineffectual leadership. While Trannis lounged around the dark fortress in the Decepticon capital of Helex, amusing himself with gladiatorial combat and promoting mini rivalries between each of the Decepticon city states, like all good soldiers the Battlechargers chose to cast no judgment on their superiors. At least, not in front to Trannis himself.
Knowing full well that they had the protection of the Decepticon commander, however, the pair were less complimentary about the other Decepticon field commanders. On the subject of Trannis, however, they remained silent, not commenting of the behaviour that seemed ill becoming of the Warlord who had sacked Iacon itself. However they regarded Trannis, they still had enough rebellion in their hearts to leave the protection of Trannis' inner circle occasionally and come out into the killing fields of Cybertron to let leash their own unpredictable destructive ardour.
Runabout advanced threateningly towards the stricken Autobot, radiating an air of menace that belied his relatively small stature. His black colouration gave him the appearance of a harbinger of Death as he once again swung a harsh fist, hammering the unfortunate Roundhouse face down into the ground.
The surrounding ruins echoed with the sound, as the clash of metal on metal rebounded through the shattered shells of what had once been dwellings for Cybertron's citizens. Nowadays the cities of Cybertron were relics, populated only by a few remaining neutrals, those fortunate enough not to have been slaughtered, gathered for slave labour, or fed to the Decepticons' smelting pits. The Battlechargers had stumbled across this Autobot more by chance than design, these days Cybertron belonged to the Decepticons and any Autobot foolish enough to show his face above ground level was likely to be terminated swiftly by one or another of the countless Decepticon patrols. This meant slim pickings for the Battlechargers. It was rare these days to find Autobots on the surface of the planet, rarer still for Autobots to put up much of a fight when confronted with warriors of the Decepticon army. This one was an exception. A fresh laser wound marring his arm was a lesson to Runabout not to let his guard slip, he had underestimated the Autobot and was intending to pay back in kind.
Runabout waited for the Autobot to struggle to his feet once more, and then savagely lashed out once more, sending Roundhouse staggering towards his Runamuck, who was stood braced, his Friction rifle clasped firmly in his grasp. Unlike Runamuck he was beginning to tire of this game.
For a couple of breams now the Battlechargers had been belting the unfortunate Roundhouse between them, injuring him severely enough to halt any attempt to escape, but neither of them, so far, had made any attempt to finish the Autobot. Now Runabout was beginning to get bored of the game. The shortness of his attention span was legendary, and already he had spent more time than he enjoyed softening the Autobot up. He got his kicks from detonating his enemies corpses, watching the Autobots disintegrate in an explosion of shrapnel and smoke, fire and ash were his playmates. He swiftly tired of physical combat, the time was fast approaching to take this conflict to a more explosive level.
Runamuck, on the other hand, seldom tired of such games. With an apparently endless energy he took great pleasure from crushing his enemies single handedly, feeling their fenders crush beneath his own, or their optics give way beneath his fingers.
Runamuck was, without doubt, insane. It would never occur to the Decepticon to think the Autobot's presence unusual, he simply did not care. It was enough that he was branded with the hated Autobot symbol. Even then it was no guarantee to the Battlechargers reaction. Runamuck lived for destruction, and was even more unpredictable than his taciturn partner. As he sent Roundhouse spiralling away with a single blow his mad chuckle cut through the dark Cybertronian night, echoing about the ruins, blending with the unpleasant noises of combat as he once more lifted Roundhouse from his feet, sending him sprawling.
By the time it reached Roundhouse's audials, Runamuck's laughter was beginning to assume demonic proportions. To roundhouse it sounded like a signal for his death. He knew without doubt that he was about to die. These Decepticons were known to him, as they were to many within Ibex. During their stint in the city, before they had accidentally detonated the entire Decepticon base, the pair had personally decimated half the cities neutral population with their sick little games. Whole regions of the city has been laid waste by the Battlechargers as they had tried to out do each other in the destruction stakes.
Roundhouse had been one of the few to escape the region, swiftly throwing his lot in with the Autobots in Iacon, and because of his knowledge of the area he had returned for one special mission. So it appeared had the Battlechargers, and now he knew he was to die at the hands of the two Decepticons. As he lay, seeping Energon at Runamuck's feet he became almost philosophical. Maybe fate had decreed that the Battlechargers should be the deathbringers to all the Autobots of Ibex. maybe he was just a final loose end to be tied up. He was just thinking these final thoughts when Runamuck's foot came crashing into the back of his head and he thought no more.
Runamuck stared down at Roundhouse, gleefully cackling at the Autobot spread eagled before him. He was just about to speak, no doubt to offer a snide gloat, when an explosion rent the air and Roundhouse's head disintegrated under a broad burst of particle-beams. He blinked slowly and looked down at the now headless corpse. "Naughty," he admonished, shaking a finger at the diseased Autobot. "I hadn't finished yet. heh heh."
Runabout rolled his optics and holstered his till smoking rifle. 'Sure ya had, 'muck. Ya were just messin' about. I was gettin' bored." He shuffled his feet impatiently. "There's only so many ways ta beat up an Autobot. Now let's detonate 'is fuel core and watch the flames. Might be able ta bring some more outta hidin'."
Runamuck threw his partner a swift critical glance. "Hey, I could have made that last a good few breams longer."
Runabout shrugged. "Maybe," he conceded. "Ya know me though, if it ain't burnin' then I don't wanna know."
Runamuck winced. Chances to let loose like this were rare, especially as Trannis so rarely let them out of his sight, and for Runabout to spoil the game so early on was disappointing. He wondered briefly in anything was bothering his partner before concluding that he didn't actually care less. Their partnership had lasted for over two million years not because of emotional ties, but because Runabout enjoyed random destruction every little bit as he did. Beyond that Runamuck didn't have the slightest concern with his partner's psychological problems, he had enough of his own to deal without embroiling himself in Runabout's psyche as well.
Runabout glared down at the headless corpse of Roundhouse and scowled behind his facemask. Runamuck was right, the combat could have been stretched a good while longer. To defeat the Autobot so cleanly and without agonising pain seemed a waste of a rare opportunity to work off stress. Even he, who normally preferred the destruction of the inanimate, was becoming bored with the pointless vandalism around Helex. Lashing out at the Autobot had be acceptable stress relief, but the darkness of his mood had sapped the enjoyment of even that game. Trannis was slowly driving him insane, and the Decepticon commander knew it. He hadn't chosen the Battlechargers to be his bodyguards because of reputation, but as a suitable way of punishing such active warriors.
Runabout kicked out at Roundhouse's shattered limbs, sending chunks of armour spraying across the area. No, he thought to himself, it was a punishment. For the slight...miscalculation in Ibex which had wiped out the entire Decepticon regiment. This was Trannis's payback, a far more evil and devious revenge than merely having them destroyed. He looked over at where Runamuck had wrenched off the Autobot's arm and was using it to cast shadow puppets onto a nearby ruin, having a violent argument with himself in the process, and rolled his optics. Runamuck was so far gone now that it made little difference to him what Trannis' motives were. But Runabout knew and what's more Runabout would soon have his revenge.
"Where are they?!"
Back at Helex the Decepticon General in Chief was becoming increasingly agitated. The Helex Garrison commander, Behemoth, stood quivering before him while all the while a group of Decepticon generals stood watching in faint amusement. The smaller chamber outside the Palace's Grand Hall was a tradition meeting place of the Decepticon commanders, and they stood in groups around the edge of the chamber all the while watching this altercation.
Charnel knew that his position was far from stable, it was only days until his investiture as the Decepticon Field Commander, and now Trannis was refusing him audience until the return of his errant bodyguards. The various members of the Chain of Command seemed to be grimly satisfied with Charnel's discomfort. He grudgingly admitted to himself that he was hiding his feelings well, the expression on Behemoth's face, and the echoes that rung out immediately after his cry conformed that he was being less than subtle. He knew that all his rivals, especially that ingrate Straxxus, would interpret this outburst as a weakness upon his part.
The fact of the matter was he was far too angry to quell the rage. Behemoth was technically in charge of the Battlechargers, but he had allowed them to leave Helex without questioning their destination. A particularly minor mistake on his part, but adequate enough to allow Charnel this outburst. His frustration at the unpredictability of the Helex troops becoming plain. The Battlechargers had long been the thorn in Charnel's side. Once he had assumed his position Runabout and Runamuck's life expectancy would soon be diminished, of that he had no doubt.
From his first days rising through the ranks of the Decepticon army, up to his present high rank, Trannis had always seen fit to inflict their presence upon him. It had been he who as City Commander of Ibex had been left to count the corpses and military cost when the Battlechargers had accidentally detonated the Decepticon base there. While this mistake may have brought the favourable attentions of Trannis, the same could not be said of Charnel. He had a grudge, and he made it very plain. No, these two insects would have to be eliminated, he thought grimly. Already they had cost the Decepticon army dear, and now Trannis was refusing to admit him without their presence. A sign that the Decepticon High Commander had yet to trust him fully, and without Trannis's full trust he had a weakness that his rivals would soon exploit. Already Straxxus was striding towards him, ready to punch another hole in the armour of his authority. The blue Decepticon general eyed him hurriedly, his facemask as ever revealing none of his feelings.
"I hardly think Behemoth can be completely blamed," he grated loudly. "I thought -YOU- were the Decepticon General in Chief after all. Surely the Battlechargers are your responsibility as much as his." He paused for effect while a number of the Decepticon Generals grouped behind him nodded in agreement then continued. "But I understand you have always had trouble controlling that particular pair."
*Ah,* thought Charnel. *So, that's his game? Remind me of the fact that I allowed them to wipe out an entire city of Decepticon troops, then could do nothing to punish them because of Trannis's protection.* He choked back a retort. No, any angry reply would merely reinforce Straxxus's argument, would help to prove my incompetence. Instead he merely smiled.
"Do I take it then, that you are volunteering your services to find these errant Decepticons on my behalf?"
Straxxus look cold. "If you feel you are incapable yourself..." he began, but paused when Charnel held up a restraining hand.
"Enough. This matter can wait." The General In Chief lowered his hand and smiled a slow snake-like smile. "Find them, then return them to his lordship. He no doubt misses their sparkling repartee." He raised an optic ridge quizzically. "Unless you have something better to do?"
Straxxus's look grew even colder. "Certainly...commander," he acknowledged and turned away slowly. Obviously his confidence was not great enough for him to make an immediate challenge on Charnel's authority. He way try to undermine him, but he would not refuse a direct order just yet.
Charnel continued to smile, and for a moment a look of contentment passed across his face. The easiest way to retrieve the situation was to make the Battlechargers somebody else's problem, and he had no doubts that they would present Straxxus with a headache just as large as they presented him.
"When you have recovered them, contact me immediately. There are matters I must discuss with Lord Trannis. Matters which are far beyond the capacity of understanding of one such as yourself." With that Charnel spun on his heels and shoved his way through the doors out of the hall.
Behemoth heaved a sigh of relief as Charnel stalked away. Straxxus, on the other hand, continued to stare daggers long after Charnel had left the room. He understood, at least, that Charnel was trying to undermine his authority by burdening him with tasks far beneath him. Optics blazing, he surged into motion and followed the general from the hall.
Everyone knew, none more so than the Battlechargers themselves, of the deep hatred Charnel had for the duo. It had been a matter of much discussion at the court whether Runabout and Runamuck would survive more than a bream should Trannis ever be usurped by the General In Command. Charnel himself had settled that argument by announcing that his first act as leader, should any unfortunate incident ever befall their beloved Trannis, would be to have the Battlechargers terminated immediately. Decepticon leaders had a tendency to start afresh when they assumed command, sweeping out any Decepticon who had risen to power during a previous administration, but Charnel would be the first to admit this was personal.
The Battlechargers were also happy to admit that they despised Charnel, but for now the protection of Trannis had saved them from any retribution. However, if Trannis should ever come to an untimely demise, Charnel was certainly the hot tip to replace him as Decepticon leader. Even the most lowly Decepticons were aware of the subtle battle for leadership between Charnel, Straxxus, Polyhex's erstwhile City Commander, and Thunderwing, the Decepticon general currently commanding the garrison in Tarn. The trio had been seeking to debilitate each other for as long as anyone could remember, certainly since the beginning of Trannis's roller coaster ride into madness and complacency. At the moment Charnel seemed favourite to succeed Trannis, at least in the eyes of the Decepticon High Council, and even Trannis seemed to accept it.
The one thing he was not prepared to do, however, was simply roll over and die. Somehow the Decepticon Commander had managed to avoid countless assassination attempts. This was due, to some extent at least, to the diligence of the Battlechargers. No-one could fault their enthusiasm. Any Decepticon who was deemed to be acting suspiciously in the presence of the High Lord Trannis was executed on the spot by the Battlechargers. Some of them had even been guilty. It was a testament to their enthusiasm that the Battlechargers had not only managed to foil several assassination attempts, but had also wiped out a number of Decepticons they had simply taken a dislike to, a medic who had accidentally given Runabout a green respray, two guards who were apparently giving Runamuck 'funny looks' and an entire colony of turborats who had been behaving suspiciously.
This behaviour had served one purpose at least - it had discouraged anyone from coming anywhere near the high lord without the most serious of reasons. Those that interrupted his play for trivial matters were therefore obviously assassins and were dispatched by the Battlechargers with customary zest.
The focus of Charnel's rage were busy with Roundhouses' corpse when Straxxus found them. Runabout was busy setting a small fuel air bomb inside the deceased Autobot's torso while Runamuck was using Roundhouse's arm to cast a shadows onto the wall below where the rest of his body now hung. Sweeping low over the ruins, Straxxus's engines emitted a fine whine, attracting the glances of the Battlechargers, who promptly turned away and got back to whatever they were doing.
Straxxus allowed himself a short snarl of rage, shifting shape from his massive flying cannon mode into his more anthropomorphic robot mode. Slowly has strode through the ruins towards them, optics flashing dangerously. "Lord Trannis requires your presence," he grated, then paused for a moment, somewhat taken aback. "Runamuck, what -are- you doing?"
"A petro-rabbit with a knife in it's head," Runamuck replied smartly, and began to bend the fingers of Roundhouse's detached arm into a new shape.
Straxxus glowered, taking a slow threatening step towards the duo. "You will return at once," he grated.
Runabout slowly turned, acknowledging Straxxus's presence for the first time. "Okay, we was gettin' bored anyways. Jus' give me a..."
"NOW!" bellowed Straxxus, and Runamuck flinched, dropping the arm with a guilty look.
"Now?!"
"Now." Straxxus glared. He was used to being obeyed without question, disobedience swiftly reduced him to a bad mood, and when he was annoyed he liked to share it around.
Runabout nodded curtly, turning back to Roundhouses' body and swiftly fusing a couple of trailing wires together. "Okay, all done. We gut 15 seconds." With that he turned and sprinted into the ruins, flinging himself through an open doorway, while Runamuck bolted in the opposite direction, pausing only to scoop up the arm he had dropped.
Straxxus now merely looked bemused. "Wha.." he began, before Roundhouses's body atomised in a massive explosion, then not only blew him off his feet, but straight through the wall behind him. When the dust and shrapnel had settled, the Decepticon general was barely visible, lying in a heap behind the large hole ripped through the wall by the force of the explosion. Large chunks of Roundhouse scattered around him and, in some cases, actually embedded in his armor itself. Luckily for the Battlechargers he was also apparently unconscious.
Runabout poked his head out through the doorway of the ruin. "Whoops?" he cackled, then crawled fully into view, looking around for his partner. "'muck? Where ya at?"
An arm slowly appeared over a bank of rubble and started waving. Runabout staggered towards it and pulled, promptly slipping backwards as it came off in his hand. he landed on his back in a smooth, but less than graceful, movement and for a few seconds stared philosophically at the sky. "Very funny Muck."
Runamuck sniggered and emerged from behind the pile of rubble. "Aw, there's no 'arm in it." He paused, then began to snigger in an immensely irritating manner. "Now 'arm in it! Geddit? heh heh heh."
Runabout lay still for a moment, the possibility of beating Runamuck to death with a dismembered limb running through his mind. Then slowly he levered himself up into a sitting position. "Ya know, if ya don't stop that snig..." he was quickly cut off as a sudden incessant beeping began. He blinked staring down at Roundhouse's defunct limb. A small LED display had started to blink on the lower part of the arm, accompanied by the loud alarm.
Runamuck panicked. "It's a bomb!" he yelped, and turned tail again, diving for cover behind the pile of rubble he had so recently vacated.
Runabout rolled his optics, and quickly tapped a button next to the display. A panel in Roundhouse's limb popped open, revealing the circuitry of an internal communicator.
*Shhhhhhhhhhklick*..house, where you at? Come in Roundhouse, where in Primus's name are you?"
Runabout blinked, almost dropping the arm in surprise. Then his optics narrowed and he realised a sharp intake of breath. "Aha." With a swift jab of his finger he opened a channel between his, well, Roundhouse's radio and the Autobots. His brow furrowed as he tried to collect his thoughts. Just what -had- the Autobot sounded like? Runabout could only remember Roundhouse's voice raised in anger or pain, but he quickly reached the conclusion that brevity was the best way to conceal his true identity.
"What?" he snapped into the radio, trying to ignore the feeling creeping over him that sitting in the middle of a battlefield talking to an arm was going to do little to enhance his reputation. After a brief pause the Autobot voice spoke again through a sea of static.
"Roundhouse? That you?" Runabout sensed an edge of suspicion in their tone, but, he thought, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
"Yep," he said simply.
The voice at the other end of the communication seemed to accept this, only a slight wary edge warning Runabout to play this very careful. If he wanted to find out what the Autobot had been doing in Decepticon territory, a bargaining chip that could no doubt save his life from Straxxus should he regain consciousness, then he would have to box clever.
Unfortunately this didn't come easy.
"Where the hell have you been?" A demand now, that was good. The more irritated people became, the less careful they were. Runabout was well aware of this fact, more than two million years serving under Trannis had at least given him the opportunity to experience true exasperation and he rarely name out the better for it. He tried to concentrate as the voice ploughed on. "You should have got back to Autobase hours ago!"
Runabout strained for something to say. he wasn't used to being diplomatic. And being diplomatic while pretending to be an Autobot while talking to a dismembered limb was really pushing it. Finally he offered a simple reply. "Sorry?"
"Sorry is right! We need those detonators now! Impactor is all ready to go and..."
Runabout didn't hear the rest of the sentence. With trembling hands he tugged the couriers pouch from where he had hung it from his holster. Slowly he flipped back the hard metal casing, peering inside. He fuelpump stopped, optics dimming as he looked down into the pouch. An antiquated detonator lay on top a large enough stash of plastic explosives and fuse wire to take out an entire city block.
Runabout's optics glazed. He looked up, scanning the area, taking in the unconscious form of Straxxus and Runamuck, who was currently ranging body parts along a partially demolished wall, then flinging a balled up wad of internal circuitry at them. Target practice, Runabout thought automatically, before the sound of the radio caught his attention again. Still the words couldn't penetrate the buzzing in Runabout's audials. He must be....no, no, there it was. Explosives, a detonator, wiring. The stuff of dreams. Finally the ringing subsided, and he struggled to fight his way back to reality. The Autobot voice was almost panicking now. "Roundhou..?"
It never finished. The sound of a friction rifle blast rent the air, grabbing even Runabout's attention. It certainly caught the attention of Runabout's unseen benefactor. "What in Primus's name was that?!" it demanded.
Runabout snapped round in time to see a turborat dissolve under a barrage of fire from Runamuck's rifle. Runamuck cackled wildly, continuing to fire until not only was the air filled with noxious smoke, but also a sizable crater had been forged out of the planet's surface. Eventually the sound of firing subsided, leaving only Runamuck's mad giggle. Finally the Battlecharger caught sight of his partners gaze through the haze. Runabout was crouched, clutching a dismembered arm looking very, very irritated.
Runamuck's main strained. "Whoops? heh heh," he offered, wilting under Runabout's gaze.
"Roundhouse? By the Celestial Spires! Are you..?"
The voice was suddenly cut off as Runabout's vice like grip tightened, crushing the arm and radio with it. He dropped the pieces, staring at them quietly for a moment before a devious tincture began to taint his optics. He turned a triumphant stare towards his partner. "I've got an idea!" he yelped in delight.
This bombshell managed to attract even Runamuck's attention. Runabout's ideas came along once in a blue moon, but you could always rely on them to contain the maximum amount of destruction with the minimum amount of effort. "Oh be still my beating fuelpump," he giggled, a smirk evident despite the permanent fixture of his faceplate.
Runabout rolled his eyes, but his delight was too intense to be dampened by Runamuck's sarcasm. He gave the courier's pouch another delighted pat, and got to his feet, sauntering towards his partner with an evident swagger.
"Could get rid ov Trannis forever," he grinned, slipping one arm around Runamuck's shoulder. "Picture it now..."
Runamuck turned, stifling another giggle. "We could, dare I say it, rule the world?' he said delightedly.
Runabout nodded, giving Runamuck a hearty shove towards Helex. "You bet yer aft," he announced, optics glowing with barely concealed delight. "Now c'mon, we gotta prepare..."
The Battlecharger's voices slowly receded into the distance as they make their way through the ruins towards the Decepticon capital. The deserted streets were silent for a moment, bar the sound of distant gunfire, but immediately the silence was broken as Straxxus, Decepticon General, surged to his feet. Debris cluttered off his damaged armour, dropping onto the rubble strewn street, but Straxxus didn't even react. His attention was riveted on the forms of the retreating Battlechargers. His optics narrowed, spilling cold white light through the growing dusk. He stood stock still until the duo had retreated beyond even his enhance vision, then a cold humourless smile creased his face.
*
"Xarron! I want words!"
Emirate Xarron sighed inwardly, swivelling in his seat to face his the Transformer stood outlined in the doorway to his quarters. After a few moments he reconsidered his tact, sighing audibly, much to the obvious annoyance of his visitor. He slowly rose from his seat, circuits creaking audibly as he got his feet under him. Age was beginning to show, and the Autobots were far to short on resources to afford constant maintenance, not even for their erstwhile leader. There was a pause as the Emirate cocked a quizzical optic ridge at the Autobot hovering at his doorway. "A social visit, Impactor?"
Impactor snorted loudly. "Hardly," he grunted, sweeping into the room and leaving the door to seal behind him. The commander of the Autobots elite commando unit had never stood on ceremony. He shot at quick glance at the console Xarron had been working at when he was interrupted. "More strategies to plan?"
The bitterness in Impactor's voice hung in the air. Xarron shot the Wrecker's leader an appraising glance. Impactor was always brusque, even rude, but his air of deep pessimism was something he had not seen before. He sighed again, staring directly into Impactor's optics, silently attempting to communicate understanding.
Impactor frowned, turning his face away, and quickly strode towards a vacant seat next to Xarron's own. He quickly sat, and visibly slumped. "Are you going to ask me what's wrong or just stand there wheezing at me all night?"
The Autobot commander stared blankly at the elite commander for a moment, desperately attempting to control the desire to sigh yet again. Finally he found his voice. "Something's wrong." As soon as the words had left his vocal circuits he knew it was the wrong thing to say, but Impactor merely snorted.
"Your talent for stating the obvious has not deserted you I see," he commented dryly. Finally his optics met with Xarron's. "Roundhouse is dead."
This time Xarron involuntarily groaned. Another Autobot lost, and beyond that....
"Did he...?" The question hung in the air for a few moments, unanswered before Impactor finally shook his head.
"The explosives never got here."
Xarron stepped back, the seat of his chair connecting sharply with the back of his leg joints. Almost involuntarily he dropped into the chair, optics staring blankly at Impactor. "They never..." he echoed. Impactor stared at him impassively, but even the Wrecker's commander couldn't stop a look of despair registering on his face. The pair stared at each other for a few minutes, Impactor typically taciturn, Xarron too dismayed to put his thoughts into words. Finally Impactor broke the unnatural quiet.
"We can still do it."
Xarron's fuelpump lurched. He continued to stare at Impactor for a moment, then raised his hand in a pacifying gesture. "No, the Wreckers are too valuable to risk if there is anything less than a hundred percent chance of success."
Impactor lowered his head, staring back from under furrowed brows. His harpoon arm twitched, as he shrugged. "It's our last chance," he muttered, more to himself than Xarron. "We have to."
"NO!" Xarron was immediately on his feet. He looked beseechingly at the Wrecker, trembling at the sudden exertion. "You could have planted those explosives under the Decepticon palace and the risk would have been nil. Trannis would no doubt have died in the explosion, and if he didn't a number of high ranking Decepticons could have been eliminated. We would have a fighting chance. But what you're suggesting is suicide."
Impactor looked up, meeting Xarron's gaze with a look of pure rage. "We have no choice," he hissed. 'The plans are too far advanced. We agreed that if this eventuality arose the Wrecker's would have to bag Trannis personally. Deal with it."
The expression of dismay never left Xarron's face, but finally his head bowed in agreement. "You're right." He fell back into his chair, fumbling to shut down the console that had been humming at his side all this time. "Excalibur has given you enough details to be able to infiltrate the palace if necessary. His information has never been proved wrong before. One advantage of having the curator of the Cybertron Museum of Antiquities among your officer I suppose."
Impactor nodded in agreement, professionalism quickly subduing his earlier trepidation. "We can do it, Xarron," he said, only a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Trannis will be dead by nightfall. And then maybe..."
"Maybe..." Xarron echoed. Maybe what? That the Decepticons war machine would falter without Trannis would be too much to hope for, but...even so, even a lapse in the conflict could enable the Autobots a precious chance to regroup, maybe even a chance to rebuild. Xarron was desperate, he knew that he had no choice but to send the Wreckers to their uncertain fate. If Impactor wanted to commit suicide he could do nothing to stop him.
Impactor rose, pausing to clasp Xarron by the shoulder, giving him a curt formal nod. "Don't worry, we'll succeed." Without another word he turned and made his way back into the corridors of Autobase, his fate sealed.
Xarron shifted uneasily, glancing down at the scrolling text displayed on his monitor. If the Wreckers succeeded then all his plans, all his strategies would be nullified. The Autobots would have a new dawn. And he had to hope. "Primus be with you," he whispered, then turned back to his console. It would do no-one any good to trust solely to the Transformer's apparently absent deity.
Runabout glanced at his chronometer. Almost a cycle had passed since the Battlechargers foray into Ibex and at least nine tenths of that time had been spent listening to the grating voice of the Decepticon High Lord. Trannis had two tones of voice, a low drone and a high pitched whine and he alternated them with a regularity guaranteed to make even the sanest Transformer throttle him. Trannis was a bad joke, but Runabout couldn't keep the slight grin from his face. Soon Trannis would be an ex joke.
Runabout allowed himself a sly peak below Trannis's throne, where a bundle of wires and white plastic marked the positioning of his homemade bomb. It was visible from the Battlecharger's position on either side of the throne, but thankfully not from the floor of the audience chamber itself. Trannis himself seemed oblivious to it's presence, no doubt too addled on toxic Energon to worry about his bodyguard's loyalty.
The Decepticon High Lord himself was sprawled in his throne, set upon it's dais at the far north end of the room. His surroundings only managed to highlight his feebleness, the frescoes on the high vaulted ceiling recalling past glories as Trannis marched through the ruins of Iacon, when Trannis sacked Stannix, the Fall of the Magnatese Mountains.
All these major Decepticon victories were painted in vivid colours upon the ceiling of the throne room. The high vaulted ceiling way supported by numerous great pillars, rising from the floor of the chamber with austere magnificence. The floor of the hall was decorated with a check pattern of precious metals, topped off by a Decepticon symbol beneath the dais.
The architects who designed the palace for Trannis had done their job well, epitomising the Decepticon regime in all it's opulence and Trannis, in the tradition of all despots the universe over, had them executed within days of it's completion. Not because he feared the palace's secrets falling into enemy hands, but simply because he had tired of them. The figure slumped in the throne certainly did not look like the kind of Decepticon who could hold such power of life and death over his followers, he was relatively slight of build, not much larger than his Battlecharger bodyguards. His genius had laid as a major tactician rather than a fearsome warrior, but this intelligence had been dampened over three million years by the constant abuse of toxic Energon, illegal energy boosters and most of all by lack of intellectual exercise. Only in his manipulation of his generals did he show any of the spark that had won him Stannix and the Crystal plains.
Runabout quickly scanned the hall, even such tedious distractions were better than listening to Trannis. The poor illumination did not show the opulence to its best, but even Trannis was not immune to the Energon shortage that plagued the planet. Runabout glanced down, checking the led display on his hastily rigged up bomb was still flashing. Ten Breams remained. He was safe enough for a while, but pretty soon he and Runamuck would have to hurriedly vacate, and leave the Warlord to his fate. And pretty soon after that they would no-doubt meet theirs. The Decepticons encouraged a rapid climb through the ranks and ruthless ambition, but even they would not extend that attitude towards two Decepticons who blew up their leader to escape being bored to death.
It was unlucky that, at that moment, Runabout's attention was distracted, for it was that moment that Twin Twist's dual drills shattered the floor in front of the throne. Almost instantly he had opened up a tunnel large enough to admit the Autobot commando squad that followed. Runabout stared in disbelief at the sight of Impactor rapidly clambering out after Twin twist and bounding up the stairs towards him.
Finally he reacted, but far too slowly. The Autobot's fist slammed into his face, and he dropped instantly, the shock numbing his systems completely. As he dropped his optics caught Runamuck being dealt the same treatment by a duo of Topspin and Whirl. As the shock began to ease, his limbs once again to react to his mental command and he rolled over onto his back, only to confronted by the muzzle of a high impact energy rifle and the instant pressure of a foot slammed into his chest.
Roadbuster stared evenly down at him, finger raised to his mouth. As Runabout stared, numb with shock, the Wrecker made a swift cutting gesture across the top of his neck with a single sweep of his hand. Runabout got the message and slowly edged his hand away from the holster on his leg, optics darting towards Trannis. The war Lord was apparently rooted to the spot, starting in horror as Impactor trod a slow menacing step towards him. Finally he reacted, his shrill voice yelping in terror. "Gua...."
That was as far as he got. Impactor's left arm raised and his harpoon launched, directly into Trannis's forehead. The Decepticon slumped, all functions immediately ceasing as the harpoon plunged straight through his irreplaceable neural network. Trannis was dead by the time he fell to the floor, deaf to Impactor's words.
"That's for the Autobots," the Wrecker's leader hissed, then with a quick slash of his hand signalled the commando unit to fall back. As swiftly as they came, the Autobots vanished, dropping through the tunnel and out of sight.
Runabout stared at the ceiling for a few moments. Finally he recovered himself enough to speak.
"Runamuck, you there?" he asked in a haltering voice.
"Yep," was the simple reply.
Runabout squinted up at the ceiling for a moment. His position affording him a particularly good view of the gates of Capital City falling before the Decepticon assault. He noticed he and Runamuck were nowhere to be seen in the artists's impression. Typical. He let his mind wander for a few more moments, before finally pulling his concentration back to the matter in hand. His head swivelled, and he found himself staring straight into the dead optics of his former commander. Trannis was bent double at the foot of his throne, head bent at an unnatural angle, apparently supporting the bulk of his weight.
Runabout blinked, once, then remarked in a forced voice. "How's that for timing? Wait three million years to off the aft sucker immediately you come up with a plan to do him in, what happens?"
There was a pause. Runamuck's voice came back. "I dunno, what?" he remarked cheerfully. "I'm lying on my face. It's -really- hard to see stuff from here."
Runabout levered himself up into a sitting position and looked around, grasping the edge of the throne to pull himself up. True enough Runamuck was lying on the far side of the throne, face down, a sizable dent in the rear of his hood. As so far as it was possible to tell his expression he looked quite relaxed.
Runabout gingerly stepped across his commander's body, half fearing that it might suddenly sit up and have him executed for being useless at his job, but Trannis lay quite still. With a nervous glance at the corpse he prodded Runamuck with the tip of his oversized foot.
"C'mon, get up," he growled, prodding harder. Runamuck levered himself up, and glanced at Trannis. He looked up at Runabout, then back down at Trannis.
"He's dead then," he announced cheerfully. Runabout nodded. "Good, he was boring me."
Runabout stared at his partner incredulously, then shook his head to clear it. He winced at a sudden pain, raising his hand to prod his facemask. There was the indentation of Impactor's fist in it. "Still," he thought with a shudder, "least it wasn't the harpoon arm."
"So, does this mean we don't have to blow him up." asked Runamuck in the same irritatingly cheerful tone of voice, and somewhat unnecessarily.
Runabout stared in shock at his partner, suddenly jerking into motion and roughly heaving Trannis's body aside to peer under the throne. Two breams remaining. He stared at Runamuck, shock plastered across his face. "Dammit! -Now- we're gonna get the blame an' we didn't even kill 'im!"
Runamuck blinked. "Oh yeah," he said slowly. "Gonna shut it off then?"
Runabout grabbed the bomb, shaking it violently. "Shut it off?! How was I supposed to know we'd want to shut it off?!"
Runamuck started to giggle, but suddenly cut short when the doors of the throne room suddenly vibrated with a fearsome pounding. "There's a knocking without. heh heh." he sniggered.
Runabout scowled, dropping the bomb onto the throne and, hopping down the dais steps, he started towards the doors. "Without what? Now c'mon, whoever it is we gotta keep them out. I don't want everyone thinkin' we done the moron in if we can blame it on the Autobutts an' not get our 'eads ripped off."
Runamuck shrugged, and obediently followed his partner. "Okay,' he chuckled. "wasn't that keen on that happening."
Charnel gave the throne room doors another powerful blow and turned, optics blazing, to Behemoth. "I want this door open, NOW!"
Behemoth took a step backwards, irritation colouring his face. "I told you -sir-," he sneered. "His Lordship specifically said no-one was to be admitted."
Charnel cracked. With a scream of rage he bore down on the unfortunate garrison Commander, his hand ploughing into his throat. With a grunt of effort he heaved behemoth off his feet, leaving him dangling several feet above the floor of the audience chamber.
Behemoth gagged, the metal talons ploughing deep into his steel skin. Two seeker guards stared in horror, unsure whether to leave their posts flanking the door and to aid their commanding officer. Suddenly the question became irrelevant as the throne room doors slid quietly open, revealing Runamuck framed in the doorway.
Charnel ripped his gaze from Behemoth's tortured face and treated Runamuck to the full fury of his gaze. Runabout barely reacted, staring blankly at the struggling form of Behemoth.
Without a word Charnel released his grip, dropping Behemoth to the cold metal floor of the chamber. He shifted, his form looming threateningly over the Battlecharger, who looked up, a glint of rebellion in his optics. Silence reigned for a few moments, then finally Runamuck spoke.
"Yes?" he said in a laboured tone.
Charnel took a slow step forwards, his gaze burning into the white Battlecharger. "You..." he hissed, struggling to control his rage. "Get out of my way now! I've had enough of your..."
Runamuck interrupted him.
"Sorry," he said, a giggle escaping from his facemask. "There's nobody home but us mecha-chickens."
Charnel glowered, his talons flexing as he stared evenly at the giggling Decepticon. Finally he recovered himself to speak. "Trannis may find your moronic ways amusing," he raged. "But I do NOT!" His voice dropped to a threatening hiss. "I however take a very dim view of those who disrespect their betters..."
Runamuck twitched and stared maniacally at the Decepticon general. "Er, what?" he asked with a certain relish. "Speak up! heh heh."
Charnel's face lost all expression, then a slow terrible smile began to spread across it.It was not a friendly smile. Similar smiles had only, up to that point, been seen among the reptiles of the planet Earth.
"Runamuck," he said in an ice cold tone. "Let me in now or I will personally suspend you head first in the smelting pools.
Runamuck cackled. Then just as suddenly stopped. "Wait here," he snapped, and suddenly the door slammed shut in front of him, locking the Decepticons in the waiting room once more.
Charnel snarled his rage and glowered at the Seeker guards. Immediately they snapped to attention and attempted to look as if the wall in front was incredibly interesting. He opened his mouth to comment, when suddenly the door slid open again, this time to reveal the ebony Battlecharger.
"Yeah, wot?" Runabout asked in a surly tone, kicking his heel with the other foot. "This better be good."
Charnel's patience ran out. His fist was in Runabout's face before anyone could react, laying the Decepticon out on the floor, the force of the blow sending him skidding back into the gloom of the Throne Room. Without a word Charnel stepped through the open doorway after him.
Inside the General looked towards the throne at the far end of the room, his optics slowly adjusting to the poor lighting. He stepped across the body of Runabout, who was groaning piteously and made his way across the checked floor towards the throne. Almost immediately he spotted something was wrong. Before the throne a huge hole had opened up, it's edges ripped and torn. Charnel stared at it for a moment, his optics darting towards the figure seated on the throne. Trannis was sat, absolutely rigid in his chair atop the dais, and had not even acknowledged Charnel's presence.
Charnel turned, just in time to see the two Battlechargers diving out through the main doors, yelling something undistinguishable to the guards. He scowled in pure irritation. 'No doubt another attention grabbing stunt', he thought, and stepped up toward the throne. He suddenly found himself staring at the ruins of the Warlord's face. Trannis’s optics stared sightlessly, his mouth gaping open in shock. Through a hole in Trannis's head Charnel could see the Energon torches burning behind. He froze in shock, struggling to let his mental process catch up. Suddenly, with a yelp, he turned towards the doorway, his mouth opening to shout a warning.
It never came. Moments later he was atomised by an explosion large enough to rip a sizable part of the Palace from existence. A fireball burned it's way through the annex, shattering everything and anybody in it's path. Metal became instantly molten as the explosion burst from the surface of the planet, sending a billowing mushroom cloud far above into the atmosphere. Shrapnel rained down, inflicting a few more Decepticon casualties as it did so. The sonic boom shook the entire planet, penetrating as far as Autobase deep underground. Emirate Xarron gaped in shock as the power shut off to the entire base, instantly reducing his quarters to darkness.
Runabout stared up at Straxxus and Behemoth. The entire Decepticon army was gathered now in Helex's main square, milling nervously around hastily constructed defences. In the centre of all the activity, the acting Decepticon commander had called the Garrison commander and the duo of Battlechargers to tell their story.
Behemoth wiped a nervous hand across his brow. "I can't explain it," he stammered. "Charnel attacked me, then finally burst his way into Trannis's chambers. It was then these two.." He waved a hand at the Battlechargers, who looked at each other, attempting not to smirk. "These two came barrelling out shouting that Charnel had a bomb! We just turned and.." He looked ashamed, lowering his optics from Straxxus's fearsome visage. "We ran," he muttered quietly.
Straxxus nodded, turning glowing optics to the Battlecharger duo. "Indeed?" he said, a touch of sarcasm entering his voice. "A miraculous escape by you all. Thanks to your forewarning actual Decepticon casualties were few." His optics flashed as he blinked and slowly crossed his arms across his chest, staring down at Runamuck and Runabout in faint amusement.
Runabout shrugged, his optics lifting to meet Straxxus's gaze. His battered body tensed for a moment, shooting a quick glance at Runamuck, who was staring into the middle distance with, apparently, not a care in the world. It was Straxxus who was the first to break the silence.
"When the army starts to march to Polyhex, make sure you are among their number, Battlechargers." His voice grated levelly but a slight amused air was exuding from him. "I'm sure we can find a better use for your unique talents than Trannis ever envisaged."
Runabout's optics widened. He started to articulate a word, then suddenly caught himself, content to give a quick nod. Then after a pause he snapped off a quick salute. "Thanks boss," he exclaimed, nudging Runamuck to gain his attention.
Straxxus laughed, a cold mirthless laugh, Behemoth looking on in astonishment. After a brief pause the new Decepticon premiere spoke.
"No, thank -you-, Runabout. Thank -you.-"
