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Transformers: Mobian Chronicles Transformers: Mobian Chronicles (Arc 15: The Second Journey)

TMC 15-2

Another month had passed for Orion’s team. They were resting in a cave. Sonic and Amy slept in Jazz’s backseat as he and Blackarachnia were snoozing vehicle mode. Orion couldn’t sleep. He sat near the cave mouth and looked out at the pouring rain. As he sat, he sighed. He was then bathed in a spectral glow. The glow was welcoming as two figures appeared, a mech and a femme. The femme, the mother’s Spark that resided in his axe, Blade Dancer, rested her hand on his shoulder. Her son, the Spark living as his gun, Pacemaker, looked out the cave as well. “Kind of peaceful somewhat,” he mused.

“Not for me,” mumbled Orion. “It feels…evil. Like all the good that exists on this planet is being washed away.”

“There’s still some good around,” replied Blade Dancer as she cast her optics on the sleeping bots and Hedgehogs. Orion smiled.

“Yeah. …You know, some people think I’m the Last of the Primes that old prophecy spoke of.”

“The problem with that,” remarked Pacemaker, “is that you end up feeling like you don’t have your own identity.”

“Sometimes, things come back. That journey you two kickstarted for me, that’s proof right there.”

“That was a gamble of long odds, though,” answered Blade Dancer. “There’s never a guarantee of that working. But the eventual end, that’s dead certain.”

“…Continue on this journey then?”

“It’s our only hope.”

“…That’s a sad commentary in and of itself.”

“The universe used to be a bigger place,” sighed Pacemaker.

“The universe is still the same. …There’s just less in it.”


Unicron’s castle was also in the midst of a storm. Unicron idly looked out the window as his Terrorcons amused themselves in various ways, entertaining a guest. Unicron had a cup of tea in his hand as he observed the lightning flashing in the sky. The sound of footsteps coming up then snapped everyone out of their thoughts and activities. The person, a female badger in a weird outfit made of silver tape on her body, the former senator Josie “Sticks” Beller, appeared. Lately, she had taken to calling herself Circuit Breaker. She pointed at Unicron and snarled. “I won’t be summoned like some mongrel!”

“Apparently, you can,” remarked Unicron. “I believe you know our other guest.” Idly pointing to the other person, Unicron continued looking out the window. The guest was none other than Abraham Tower in his new persona. He was piloting the Cybertronian body as his own, much like Nemesis Prime. He waved and grinned at Circuit Breaker.

“Ah, Commander Tower!” hissed Circuit Breaker. “Auditioning to join my team?”

“Not yours. His.” Tower pointed at Unicron. “And I call myself Thunderwing now. How fared your fight with…erm…Alpha Trion and Vector Prime, I believe they called themselves?” Unicron turned sharply to Thunderwing.

“Why mention those names?”

“…I told you she was delayed by a fight,” replied Thunderwing. “Those were the names of his opponents.” Unicron developed a rather fearful twitch.

“Two of the most powerful…and they slipped beneath my radar!” he mumbled as he dropped his cup.

“Er, could someone tell the former Moebian Autobot Leader,” called Nemesis, “who they are?”

“They’re Primes,” explained Crystal Widow. “Members of the original Thirteen.”

“Primes? Oh, that’s easy. I’ll just brick their connection to the Matrix.”

“No, you cannot,” rumbled Unicron. “That power I gave was made for mortal Primes, not Demigods like them!”

“Demigods?” asked Thunderwing.

“That bauble in Orion and Rodimus’ chest? That’s just a taste of their power. Basically, people like them are the Matrix incarnate.”

“…A deal, then?” Unicron arched his brow as he prepared a new cup of tea.

“…A deal?”

“Alpha Trion and Vector Prime serve us, and, in exchange, we let the two Matrix-bearers fight in the Unicron Games.”

“…Too risky. They’re clever. No. We find another option. …One that involves Rodimus Unicronus.”


Standing outside a cave was a blue robot with jet kibble, the last Seeker on Mobius, Thundercracker. His charge, a red robot with compact car kibble, Cliffjumper, was breathing heavily. Thundercracker returned inside and gave Cliffjumper another ration of Energon. “N..no!” groaned Cliffjumper. “You…”

“You need it more than I do,” remarked Thundercracker.

“But…” Cliffjumper’s protestations were interrupted by light flashing into the cave. Thundercracker drew his sword as the two bots generating the light approached the cave. Soon, it was revealed to be the headlights of Bumblebee and Arcee as they and their Mobian companions, Knuckles and Rouge, approached the cave.

“Thundercracker?!” asked Bumblebee. “Oh, thank Primus, it’s great to see a…!”

“NOT ONE STEP CLOSER!” shouted Thundercracker.

“Huh?” asked Bumblebee.

“What’s wrong?” quizzed Arcee.

“How do I know this isn’t a trick?! Especially from Makeshift, you shorties!” Arcee threw a tool at Thundercracker’s head and Bumblebee grabbed him by the wings, lifted him into the air, and spun around.

“SHORTY?! CAN A SHORTY DO THIS?! WHAT ELSE D’YOU WANNA CALL ME?! A HALF-PINT BEANSPROUT MIDGET?! I’M STILL GROWING, YOU OVERSIZED TIN-FOIL TURKEY!” He then released Thundercracker, and the poor Seeker flew into the cave wall. Bumblebee’s rant was then interrupted by Cliffjumper groaning. “Oh, sweet Primus!” Bumblebee took out a phial of refined Light Energon and handed it to Cliffjumper. The younger brother then greedily drank the contents and sighed in relief.

“Thank you,” bid Cliffjumper.

“There was no way fighting Unicron was easy,” sympathized Bumblebee, “especially concerning the mental battle.”

“Cliffjumper told me about your story,” groaned Thundercracker. “You lost your parents and tried to resurrect them only to lose your brother in the process, so you sacrificed your own body to save him.”

“…I wouldn’t exactly call it saving him,” sighed Bumblebee. “He’s just external armor held together by a Dark Spot.”

“And any Energon I take in would only convert to Dark Energon,” continued Cliffjumper. “That’s why I was against you draining your own rations like that.”

“I didn’t have any Light Energon on me,” replied Thundercracker. His optics then rested on Arcee, Knuckles, and Rouge. “How do we know that one of them’s not Makeshift? Heck, how do you know I’M not Makeshift?”

“If you were, then Cliffjumper wouldn’t have been fighting,” replied Arcee. “Besides, no Terrorcon would take in Light Energon, so Cliffjumper’s safe.”

“And the four of us already checked each other out,” supplied Knuckles. “We’re all good.”

“Thank Primus,” sighed Thundercracker. “Guys, the situation’s hopeless. We don’t have a base, any resources, or any means of communication.”

“Not yet, no,” replied Rouge. Cliffjumper and Thundercracker looked at the bat like she had two heads. “We found something that may serve as a resistance base; a certain ship that crashed here when Unicron rose.”

“…The Weak Anthropic Principle?” asked Thundercracker.

“Bingo,” confirmed Arcee. “We’re gathering a resistance group to fight against Unicron. You interested?”

“A resistance group, you say?” chuckled Cliffjumper. “A change in the wind, says I! I’m in!”

“So am I!” affirmed Thundercracker. “I’m sick of skulking around in a cave!”

“Then let’s head out in the morning,” declared Bumblebee. “We need to conserve our energy.” No one argued, they were all dead tired. Cliffjumper was the most agreeable to rest as he had been fighting Unicron’s mental influence for too long.

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