Megatron returned to the moon base and stormed towards Shockwave’s lab. She was examining what Galvatron had stolen from Tails and was utterly perplexed. She heard the door chime. “Yes?” she asked.
“It’s Megatron,” answered her boss. The door opened as Shockwave got up from her lab station.
“Lord Megatron, we’ve explored what you’ve asked us, and it seems there’s a little…hiccup, for lack of a better…”
“Yes, Sir. The power it uses…” Shockwave sighed as she couldn’t believe the words were leaving her mouth. “My Lord, the technology doesn’t actually exist, so it’s…”
“Wait, hold up, the technology?” Megatron then held Shockwave close to his shoulder and pointed to the device. “Shockwave, HERE is the technology. I asked you to simply integrate it into our weapons systems.”
“Yes, sir, that’s what Eggman and I are trying to do, but honestly, even with our current understanding of the technology…it’s impossible.” Megatron then grabbed Shockwave by the shoulders and slammed her into a wall, causing her visor to go up and her optical probe to extend.
“A TWIN-TAILED FOX CHILD MUTANT WAS ABLE TO BUILD THIS IN A GREEK ALLEY! FILLED WITH GARBAGE!” Shockwave then shoved Megatron off of her and brushed her shoulder as Megatron regained his footing.
“I’m sorry, Lord Megatron. I’m not Miles Prower.” Her visor came back down, and she shoved Megatron out of the lab. The instant the door closed, Megatron just stared at it, his optics flickering in disbelief. He then roared in anger and stormed off. As he stormed, he received a call from Soundwave.
“Lord Megatron, ship inbound. Hull is Vanguard-class, but occupants are registering Decepticon transponder codes.” Megatron then remembered the reports about what Straxus did.
“…Tell all allied ships to shoot on sight.”
Meanwhile, out in space, a subspace distortion indicated a ship leaving warp space. The ship was a purple Vanguard-class ship. While the ship class, as a whole was usually associated with the Autobots, this particular ship was in the service of the Decepticons. The name of such a ship…was the Weak Anthropic Principle. Yes, it’s a weird name for a ship. It was on auto-pilot as Krok, the commander of the vessel, entered the conference room. Flywheels was there as well as the rest of the crew. One was a mech with a severe gash in his head, one wore a pilot’s helmet, complete with goggles, one was distracted by his fingers, and one looked a little crazy. “Commander Krok, sir!” greeted Flywheels. “Platoon awaits your instructions.”
“Good, Flywheels,” replied Krok. He then addressed the whole room. “Now, pay attention, troops! According to our auto-pilot computer, we have exited warp space and will be shortly entering orbit around our objective: the planet, Mobius!”
“Mobius?” asked the crazed-looking bot.
“Mobius, you said?” asked the bot with the head wound.
“Yes, Mobius, Mister…er…”
“Crankcase, Sir,” explained Flywheels.
“Mr. Crankcase. …Why, does the name ‘Mobius’ mean anything to you?”
“Nope, just sounds like a dismal rock,” answered Crankcase.
“That IS a dismal sounding name,” remarked Flywheels. “And given that it was called Earth once upon a time…”
“We’re going to EARTH?!” growled Crankcase. “I can’t believe it! It IS a dismal rock! We’re going to the site of our loss in the Great War?!”
“Orders from our new Lord himself,” replied Krok. “Mobius also marks our furthest reach towards the Cybertronian/Quintesson Neutral Zone.”
“Excuse me, Sir!” called the bot with the pilot helmet. “Do you mean we’re going near the Neutral Zone now?!”
“As a matter of fact, we are, Mister…”
“Fulcrum, Sir” replied Flywheels. “A member of K-Squad recommended to us. Very keen.”
“Good. Er, yes, Fulcrum, we’re near the Neutral Zone right now.
“Permission to speak, Sir?” asked the crazed bot.
“Permission granted, Mister…”
“Misfire?! The Hero of the 9th Platoon?!”
“The same, Sir.”
“I’m honored to have you here! I’ve always wanted to ask, why the name?”
“Long story. …Actually, no, it’s a very short story involving a machine gun, a misunderstanding, and several dozen dead Decepticons.”
“…Ah. …Did you have a question earlier?”
“My question, sir, is that if we’re going near the Neutral Zone. Why are we landing on Earth, I mean, Mobius, when we could be crossing the Neutral Zone now that the Quintesson Collective’s so weak?”
“A good question, Misfire,” Krok then pulled out the canister, “and one I can’t answer until we make planetfall. Sealed orders, you understand.”
“What if we meet Quintesson scum on the way? Could we blast them to plasma?!”
“…Well, in the unlikely event any Quintesson ships are found on this side of the Neutral Zone, we are obligated to blast them to plasma. Now, any further questions? …You, with your hand up.”
“Light is pointing us in the thruster clusters!!” answered the bot that was once distracted by his fingers.
“…No, didn’t understand that, Mister…”
“Spinister, Sir,” answered Flywheels.
“Spinister. What’s the matter, Spinister? Took some head damage?”
“Pound the truth!”
“My mouth wants armadillos!”
“He means ‘Yes, Sir’,” explained Flywheels. “He DID suffer some head damage. His vocabulator was irreparably totaled in a crash some vorns ago.”
“One moment, bots!” called Misfire. “I know how he speaks. Say it again, Spinister.”
“Into fluffy cats, the eyes peel…”
“Well, what’s he saying?” asked Krok.
“He says ‘Have you noticed…’”
“…the shavings of pickles…”
“‘…the Attacking Ship Alert…’”
“…into the forests of lava!”
“‘…is flashing!’ WHAT?!” That last word was repeated by everyone.
“Sir!” called Flywheels. “Two ships are approaching us at attack speed!”
“We’re under attack?!” The ship was then rocked by laser fire. “Flywheels! Status!” Flywheels checked the external view.
“It’s Scarship and a ship of unknown design! They appear to have come from the other side of Mobius!”
“Dismal rock!” grunted Crankcase. The ship then rocked under laser fire again.
“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK! BY PRIMUS! UNDER ATTACK!” wailed Fulcrum.
“You’re K-squad! Scared isn’t in your vocabulary!” replied Misfire before he joined in the panic. “WE’RE UNDER ATTACK! ACTION STATIONS! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!”
Over on Eggman’s private island, Brawl had brought the object to his brothers and creator. “It’s definitely Cybertronian,” muttered Eggman, “but it’s ancient. I don’t know what it is.”
“Brawl, I thought you said only the lower left triangle was glowing,” muttered Swindle.
“It WAS the only triangle glowing,” answered Brawl. “I don’t know why everything else is glowing in our colors.” The lower right triangle was now glowing yellow, the one above was glowing purple, the upper left was glowing blue-gray, and the middle was glowing navy blue.
“Should we…touch it?” asked Vortex.
“It’s probably giving off some form of radiation!” argued Blast-off.
“If that were true, Brawl should have been affected by it,” retorted Onslaught. “Maybe it’s supposed to be some kind of power boosting thing.”
“…You know, fighting this Unicron WOULD be a reason to test it,” mused Eggman. “All right, boys, go ahead and touch it, but only a finger!”
“Got it! Combaticons, touch the areas that correspond with your colors!” Brawl touch the green triangle, Swindle touched the yellow one, Blast-off touched the purple one, Vortex touched the blue-gray one, and Onslaught touched the sphere. The whole device then glowed in a white light that kept the Combaticons from moving their fingers. They screamed as the light enveloped them!
“BOYS!” wailed Eggman. The Combaticons screamed in terror as the light expanded, enveloping the whole island! After a good minute, the light died. The device was now a single, uniform, non-glowing color of silver. Eggman peeked out from behind his barricade to see the condition of his boys. His eyes met with something…he never thought possible. Onslaught looked to be halfway between robot and vehicle mode with both halves to the side. The front cab halves were on top of Brawl and Swindle in vehicle mode and connected by some sort of plug while standing on platforms that looked like feet. Brawl was on the left and Swindle was on the right. Meanwhile, Vortex and Blast-off had converted into vehicle mode and had elongated their fronts while sprouting hands and connecting to what should be Onslaught’s rear via the same plugs with Vortex on the left and Blast-off on the right. In between the two was a white head with antennae and two optics. The Combaticons had formed a giant behemoth of a bot! “…Boys?” asked Eggman tentatively. “…My sons?” The giant roared. It then uprooted several trees in Vortex’s fist and threw them before proceeding to rampage across the island.