Transformers: Mobian Chronicles Transformers: Mobian Chronicles (Arc 5: Rise of the Eggman Hive)

TMC 5-5

Optimus, Tails, and Swoop were on the Ark’s bridge, about to start a new procedure to fix Teletraan. “Okay, Teletraan,” mused Optimus. “I was hoping to find a quicker solution, but the long way’s the only way right now. We’re going to go through every scrap of code and…” The Ark lurched and tossed the three to the floor.

“What was that?!” yelped Tails.

“The ship is leaving orbit,” reported Teletraan.

“Why?!” demanded Optimus.

“Because the engines were turned on,” replied Teletraan.

“Thank you, that was helpful!” snapped Optimus. “Turn the ship around!”

“V is for oranges,” answered Teletraan.

“…What?!” quizzed Optimus.

“I met you on a Monday,” called Teletraan.

“…What?!” yelped Swoop.

“Blackberries, peas, I saw the tiny minds of large heroes,” continued Teletraan.

“…I feel like saying ‘what’ is all we’re going to do,” muttered Tails.

Self-diagnostics in progress, self-diagnostics cancelled,” replied Teletraan. “All’s fair in love and war. Lowering internal temperature. Raising internal temperature. Lowering internal temperature. Raising internal temperature.” Optimus scrambled to Tactical to get a message out.

“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is a distress call!” he called. “This is Optimus Prime onboard the Autobot Vanguard-class Starship, Ark! My ship’s computer has gone insane! It has taken control of the engines! We are leaving Mobius’ orbit! Our fuel is at 96 percent! We need someone to get the ship to stop! Does anyone read?!”

“Hee! Hee! Hee!” laughed Teletraan. “You’re funny! Query: are you afraid?”

“…I am now,” shuddered Optimus.

Onboard the Dyno-bot ship, Slash entered a room. She seemed to have traded her armor for a Shakespearean dress. “Computer,” she instructed, “resume Romeo and Juliet: Act 3: Scene 1 from bookmarked stop.” The room then projected Verona, Italy, with people and a man beside her. Three men were approaching her and the man with her.

“By my head, here come the Capulets,” warned the man, Benvolio.

“By my heel, I care not,” hissed Slash, playing a gender-flipped Mercutio. One of the men spoke to his companions.

“Follow me close, for I will speak to them,” he commanded, revealing himself to be Fiery Tybalt. He then turned to Slash and Benvolio. “Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.” At that point, the program was paused as Claws’ avatar came up.

“Forgive me, Mistress,” she began. “But I have received a transmission.”

“Tell them to wait,” snarled Slash. “Computer…”

“It seems rather urgent,” replied Claws.

“Then tell them to leave a message! I’m having some peace of mind!” snapped Slash. “Computer, resume program!” The program returned to motion and Slash picked up her lines with Tybalt. “And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow!”

“You shall find me apt enough to that, Sir,” remarked Tybalt, “and you will give me occasion.”

“Could you not take some occasion without giving?” hissed Slash, earning a gasp from a passerby.

“Mercutio, thou consort’st with Romeo,” accused Tybalt. He was about to speak further, but Slash interrupted.

“Consort!” she snapped. “What, dost thou make us minstrels? And thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here’s my fiddlestick; here’s that shall make you dance!” She drew a concealed rapier from the back of her dress. “’Zounds, consort!” Benvolio then put his hand on her shoulder, trying to get her to stop.

“We talk here in the public haunt of men!” he hissed in worry. “Either withdraw unto some private place, and reason coldly of your grievances, or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us!”

“Men’s eyes were made to look,” retorted Slash, “and let them gaze; I will not budge for no man’s pleasure, I!” At that point, Romeo came up.

“Er, Mistress,” interjected Claws.

“Well,” mused Tybalt as he saw Romeo, “peace be with you, Sir. Here comes my man.”

“But I’ll be hanged, sir,” hissed Slash, “if he wear your livery. Marry, go before to field, he’ll be your follower; your worship in that sense may call him ‘man.’” Tybalt ignored her as he spoke to Romeo.

“Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford no better term than this, thou art a villain,” he growled. Romeo was confused.

“Tybalt,” he replied, “the reason that I have to love thee doth much excuse the appertaining rage to such a greeting. Villain am I none; therefore farewell; I see thou know’st me not.”

“Boy,” snarled Tybalt as he drew his rapier, “this shall not excuse the injuries that thou hast done me; therefore, turn and draw!” Romeo backed away in a bit of surprise.

“I do protest!” he yelped. “I never injured thee, but love thee better than thou canst devise, till thou shalt know the reason of my love! And so, good Capulet, which name I tender as dearly as my own, be satisfied!”

“O calm, dishonorable, vile submission!” roared Slash. “Alla stoccata carries it away!” She used her rapier to knock Tybalt’s to the side. “Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?!” she said.

“Mistress, I really think you should…” called Claws.

“What wouldst thou have with me?!” asked Tybalt.

“Good king of cats,” challenged Slash, “nothing but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the eight! Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher by the ears?! Make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out!”

“I am for you!” declared Tybalt as he switched targets.

“Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up!” begged Romeo.

“Come, Sir, your passado!” shouted Slash.

“MISTRESS SLASH!” snapped Claws.

“Computer, pause program!” snarled Slash. As Tybalt charged at Slash, everything froze. “WHAT IS IT?!” roared Slash.

“Danger!” called her warning system.

“It’s a distress call,” explained Claws. “Grimlock received it from Optimus’s ship and ordered all hands on deck for a rescue operation. He’s already picked up the Autobots.” Slash sighed.

“And I thought I could finish Mercutio’s last scene today,” she muttered. She held a bit of her dress in her hand, then let it drop. “I’ll be there in a klik,” she assured.

Aleena felt a twinge in her heart. Something was clearly about to happen to Mobius and wanted the Autobots out of the picture. While she was musing, she felt a twinge in her head. She then cleared her thoughts to allow a telepathic message in her head. “You know he’s guilty,” called a man’s voice.

“He’s needed for command!” insisted Aleena.

“The investigators have compiled enough evidence,” countered the voice. “MECH has invaded our defenses. Our peace is at risk if he remains.” Aleena sighed.

“Trust is going to waver,” she observed.

“It will work out,” assured the voice. Aleena scoffed.

“Saw it in a vision?” she asked.

“A vision supplemented by history,” answered the voice. Aleena sighed.

“No choice then,” she sighed as she headed back into the castle.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” replied the voice, “but he’s too dangerous. Besides, G.U.N will flourish better without him, as will your children.” Aleena smiled.

“Sonic WOULD like him to get off his back,” she chuckled softly. Her grim look returned as she arrived at her office. “Well, it can’t be helped. He’s proven to be too dangerous.” When she sat down, she pressed a button, activating a screen to show an aged Mobian Hedgehog butler. “Wilson, bring up the case file for the MECH investigation and the arrest warrant.”

“Ma’am?” asked the butler, Wilson.

“I’ve been blinding myself to a massive danger to our people,” explained Aleena. “With the evidence piled up and how warlike he is, he cannot remain in G.U.N any longer.” She then steeled herself before finishing. “Commander Abraham Tower is under arrest for treason and commanding a known terrorist organization!”

This is Halloween!

This is Halloween!

Pumpkins scream in the dead of night!” sang Blackarachnia as she laid down the web lines in her new lair.

This is Halloween!

Everybody make a scene!

Trick or treat till the neighbors go and die of fright!” She then brought out a device and pressed a button. A Ground Bridge portal opened. “A remote control for the Autobots’ Ground Bridge,” giggled Blackarachnia, “I LOVE Autobot science!” She skipped through and arrived inside the Command Center of the Autobot base. She looked around. The lights were off, not a problem for her. Unlike the animal she was based off of, she had excellent day and night vision. She continued her visual sweep. She didn’t see anyone. She decided to chance it. “HELLO!” she called. “POISONOUS AND BEAUTIFUL DECEPTICON SPIDER-LADY HERE!” Not a peep, not even an alarm. “Well,” she then mused to herself, “it looks like I have the run of the place.” She then wandered over to the main console and pulled out a spider-themed scanner. She then pulled out a cord from the bottom of the device as it made tricorder noises. She was about to plug the cord in when…

“Have you been helped?” asked a robotic voice. Blackarachnia whirled around to see E123-Omega standing behind her. She then looked around awkwardly and retracted the cord. She gave a nervous grin.

“I’m just visiting,” she answered innocently.

“Considering that you entered the premises without warning,” observed Omega, “started probing the base for secrets, and used stolen Autobot technology, I do not believe you.”

“Er……shut up!” floundered Blackarachnia. “You know, maybe I’ll just take those secrets and…!” Omega converted his hands into their chain-gun mode and fired. A few shots hit her in the leg! “ARGH! You little scrap pile!” she shouted as she leapt over him and fired a web shot. Omega was pinned to the floor! “Learned how to pin prey from the Spitting Spiders!” said Blackarachnia. Then, she heard cords snapping. “Oh no,” she muttered as she guessed what would happen in the next few seconds. Omega got up, snapping the web. He then converted his hand into a long cannon. “FINE!” snapped Blackarachnia as she dodged cannon fire and activated her Ground Bridge. “I can tell when I’m not wanted!” She transformed and fled back to her lair. The portal shut itself when she arrived. She transformed back. “I’ll make my own coffee!” she muttered to herself. She then remembered. “Speaking of, how’s it processing?” She went to a machine that had a red crystal on top that was being ground and turned into a liquid. It was a slow process, the resulting liquid collecting by one drop every five seconds. “Come on!” she hissed. “Hurry up already!” The machine taunted her by slowly releasing another drop. “How is it that speed-enhancing Red Energon takes longer to process than regular Energon!?!?” she snapped. Another drop. She hissed and sat down, ready for a quick stasis nap. Her nap was stopped by a beeping from the Energon refiner and she jolted awake. As soon as her internal chronometer synced up, so she could judge how long she napped, she saw the results of her refined Red Energon. It barely reached a ninth of the collection tank. She hissed. “An entire chunk of Red Energon ore, AND THIS IS ALL I GET?!” She was livid. “There’s enough here for one dose! Maybe two!”

“Alert, activity detected,” reported a cold, dispassionate voice. “Pseudo-Sparks detected, but frames do not match that of any Decepti-drone.”

“Show me,” ordered Blackarachnia. A screen then started displaying the Cyber-Eggs transforming and landing. “The genetic basis must have been changed to an altered version of Eggman,” she guessed. “Calculate destination of these creatures.”

“Grid Haylex,” droned the computer. “Coordinates: 8-8-3-5-7-4-2.”

“Green Hill Zone,” recalled Blackarachnia. “Extrapolate on available data, what are they going there for?”

“Recent energy signature matches that of a relic from the war,” relayed the computer. “Likely hypothesis is that they have been sent to retrieve it.”

“Relic hunting,” she mused. She then looked at the Red Energon. “While speed is hardly the be all and end all in a fight, it should provide me with enough of an edge to obtain a more formidable relic.”

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