Nemesis Prime was executed in a cave on Mobius. Megatron himself fired the fatal shot. Once all Decepticons had reconvened on the moon, Megatron received the full report on what happened while he was away. He stepped out of the atmospheric shield and walked along the moon’s surface. He stopped once he was within Crater Stöfler. No one could hear him, but he roared in frustration. He then picked up a large rock the size of his fist and threw it. He aimed his fusion cannon at the rock…but was taken aback by another energy weapon pulverizing the rock into dust. He looked towards the direction of the shot and found a purple mech with a large orange cannon on his right forearm. He wore a three-pronged crown on his head and had large grey shoulder pads and a left arm made of purple crystal. His optics blazed red and he had the black outline of the Decepticon Symbol on his chest. As the mystery mech walked towards Megatron, he lowered his cannon arm and glared at Megatron. “You pathetic waste of Decepticon steel!” snarled the new mech over the subspace channel. “I’d kill you right now if I felt the risk to my own life was negligible!”
“Who are you?!” demanded Megatron.
“Look at you!” continued the mech. “Every mistake I have ever made just waiting to happen!”
“…I’m every mistake YOU ever made waiting to happen?” scoffed Megatron. “What, are you me from the future?”
“From 50 years into the future, yes,” confirmed the mech. “Because of some soldier jokingly saying I’m a galvanized Megatron, I’ve taken the name of Galvatron.” Megatron scoffed again.
“Very well, Oh Galvatron,” he snarked. “Please, continue with this contrived time-travel plot. Perhaps a cryptic warning about how I lose my arm?”
“I would obey Vector Prime’s word of not revealing too much,” replied Galvatron, “but the future is too ghastly, so I’ll just flat out tell you. You lose it when a dying Optimus shoots it off.”
“Optimus doesn’t have the Spark!” argued Megatron.
“You then spend the next 50 years fighting the Chaos Bringer, right after he rises from Mobius’ core,” continued Galvatron.
“Not even the Chaos Bringer can survive the fiery core of a planet!” dismissed Megatron.
“You fight alongside Optimus’ successor during that time,” finished Galvatron. “His name is Rodimus Prime, Hot Rod after he inherits the Matrix.”
“Hot Rod is too immature for the wisdom of the Primes,” countered Megatron, “so he cannot lead the Autobots!”
“STOP ARGUING!” shouted Galvatron. “YOU COULD AVOID ALL OF THAT IF YOU JUST LISTEN TO ME!”
“YOU WERE THE ONE WHO FOOLISHLY JOINED THE AUTOBOTS!” roared Megatron. “YOU LET YOURSELF LOSE YOUR ARM! YOU’RE NOTHING MORE THAN A DISTRACTION!”
“Must I always resort to these methods?!” snarled Galvatron as he took out a cortical psychic patch and jammed it into the back of his head. Megatron charged at Galvatron, missing only because Galvatron side-stepped and managed to jam the other end of the patch into Megatron’s head. Data then flooded into Megatron’s processor like a painful wave. After a few seconds, he realized what the data was. It was Galvatron’s memory of events, undeniable proof that what will happen will happen unless Megatron accepts Galvatron’s help. A few seconds later, Galvatron disconnects the patch from both their heads.
“You mean…his name is already spoken?” panted Megatron.
“Unicron is festering at the core of the planet,” confirmed Galvatron as he pointed to Mobius hanging in the moon’s sky. “Eggman met him once, waking him up by splitting the planet like his namesake.”
“Dark Gaia and Unicron are the same beast,” mumbled Megatron.
“What’s the plan, then?” asked Galvatron.
“A truce must be reached with the Autobots,” declared Megatron. “We must unite against Unicron!”
“Good plan; enacted too little, too late,” remarked Galvatron. “With my help, we’ll unite with the Autobots, defeat Unicron, you make me fade at best, become an alternate future at worst, and get to keep both of your aaaaAARGH! STOP STARING AT MY ARM!” Megatron shook his head and refocused his attention. “Now, listen carefully!”
“Lord Straxus,” called a combined Duocon answering to the name Flywheels, “Presenting Krok as instructed.” Krok entered the office. He had no discernible alt-mode parts, being a Monoformer.
“Stand easy, Flywheels,” commanded Straxus. Krok noticed this was the first time he saw Straxus’ head as it was covered by a hood. “You too, Krok.”
“As you command, Lord Straxus,” obliged Krok. “I must say, it is an honor to be invited to Darkmount, the very heart of Poly…”
“Speak up, will you?” interrupted Straxus. “Or just supplement your vocalizations with the subspace radio.” Krok opted for the latter.
“I was saying, Your Excellency,” continued Krok, “it is an honor to be in Polyhex’s heart of the fortress of Darkmount. Er, pardon me if it’s a personal question, but…”
“Is my hood a hearing aid? Yes,” interjected Straxus. “It amplifies sound so my damaged audio receivers can pick up. My audio circuitry was damaged during the Battle of the Space Bridge. Ten billion megatons of nuclear weaponry. Can you imagine that, Krok?”
“That would make our soldiers sound like useless Mini-cons!” gasped Krok.
“There ARE Mini-cons within our ranks,” interjected Flywheels.
“Pardon?” asked Krok.
“Some Mini-cons are discovered to have powers and can access them and share them when combining with us,” elaborated Flywheels.
“Er…what I meant to say, Your Eminence,” stammered Krok, fearing that tiny bit of racism would cost him his life, “is useless AUTOBOT Mini-cons!”
“It’s of no concern,” remarked Straxus. “I’m sending certain soldiers to find the Mini-con home world so we can have an advantage over the Autobots. …You may laugh, Krok.” Krok realized what that meant and so laughed…not a very convincing laugh.
“A very humorous…” began Flywheels.
“I wasn’t talking to you, Flywheels,” interrupted Straxus. “Now, Krok, the reason I have recalled you from Gigantion…”
“Lord Straxus,” explained Krok, “local resistance proved far greater than our strategists anticipated.”
“Yes, yes, yes, I had them destroyed,” replied Straxus.
“…The local resistance?” asked Krok.
“Your strategists, Krok!” corrected Straxus. Krok laughed again in the unconvincing laugh.
“That wasn’t humor,” explained Flywheels. Krok stopped laughing.
“What does the planet Mobius mean to you, Krok?” inquired Straxus.
“Er, the planet…Mobius, you say?” floundered Krok. “Well, it…er…”
“At the Orion arm of this galaxy?” offered Flywheels.
“Don’t help him, Flywheels!” snapped Straxus.
“Wait, that’s an Earth name for one of the galaxy’s arms,” interjected Krok. HE then remembered reports. “Mobius was once Earth, correct? The site of the Decepticons’ defeat during the First War?”
“Yes, Krok,” replied Straxus. “It also marks the point of our people’s nearest stretch towards the Cybertronian/Quintesson Neutral Zone 2,000 years ago! Ever since we attacked Earth, we’ve had to…bide our time until we could rise again.”
“The reason we’re in a second war is because we have a new Lord of the Decepticons,” explained Flywheels.
“I understand,” confirmed Krok.
“The new Lord has a special mission for someone like you, Krok,” continued Straxus. “Earth, Mobius now, is to be the site of our vengeance against the Autobots, so the new Lord wants you to join him on Mobius at once!”
“Near the Neutral Zone?” gasped Krok.
“At once!” insisted Straxus. “Flywheels, the data cylinder!”
“Here, Lord Straxus,” obliged Flywheels as he handed Straxus a cylinder the size of a Transformer’s hand.
“This cylinder is currently locked,” explained Straxus as he handed the cylinder to Krok. “It may only be opened when you have landed on Mobius.”
“What does it contain?” asked Krok.
“Your orders,” replied Straxus. “Orders our new Lord passed on to me, orders that must be obeyed to the letter! Now, your ship is ready and waiting. I have personally selected five other Decepticons to accompany you to Mobius.”
“Er, four, you mean, My Lord,” corrected Flywheels.
“And YOU, Flywheels, make five,” elaborated Straxus.
“…SIR?!” squeaked Flywheels.
“Don’t thank me, Flywheels,” interjected Straxus. “For 1,000 years, you’ve served as my secretary! It’s time you saw some action!”
“Will this be a dangerous mission, My Lord?” quizzed Krok, quietly hoping it would be.
“HIGHLY dangerous, Krok!” promised Straxus. “We all know how much Flywheels relishes the chance to lay down his Spark for the glory of the Decepticon Empire! Don’t you, Flywheels?”
“The glory of the Decepticon Empire, yes, My Lord,” As soon as he spoke, Flywheels’ chest and head popped out, revealing wings and folding into a jet while his arms and legs folded into a tank.
“…Psychosomatic Hyperreflexia,” explained Straxus. “He can’t tell a lie without going into his alt-modes.”
“I’m scared of losing my Spark, okay?!” protested Flywheels as his voice came from both the jet and tank.
“Trust me, Flywheels, it shall be for a GLORIOUS cause!” assured Straxus. “Escort Krok to his ship! Dismissed!” The tank and jet recombined into Flywheels’ robot mode and led Krok to his ship.
“By the way,” mused Flywheels to Krok, “is your ship REALLY called the Weak Anthropic Principle?!”
“I like it!” protested Krok. “The acronym spells WAP! Like whapping your enemies!” Once they left, Straxus smiled darkly.
“All of you will die for a glorious cause,” he chuckled. “All hail Unicron.”