Part 5

Grimlock wished he was dead.
They'd been unhooked (a process so mind numbingly, excruciatingly painful, that it couldn't be remembered more than fleetingly), their hands welded together behind their backs, and then dragged into the main operating theatre, presumably to 'witness'. Much as Grimlock had surmised, Megatron's shattered remains were there, hanging suspended by wires and feeder tubes, in much the same way they'd been hung up (although, Grimlock conceded, they'd probably taken a bit more 'tender loving care' when they hung old Meggie up). The main feeder tubes ran to the Nucleon generator. Still no surprises there.
For the last few hours, there'd been little to witness. A transparent bubble of sealant had formed around Megatron, slowly, carefully, bonding damaged tissue before the 'spider' went to work, probing and repairing the delicate material within. The final stage, Grimlock guessed, would come when ol' bucket head's body had been repaired to everyone's satisfaction and they pumped him full of life-restoring Nucleon. Beyond that point, Grimlock didn't care to speculate.
This hiatus in events had given them a chance to gather what remained of their strength (precious little, was the conclusion Grimlock had come to) and try to suss out their chances of escape or, failing that, at least dying a 'good' death, battling against impossible odds, maybe taking one or two Decepticons with them. But this was all just wishful thinking. Their chances amounted to one. One big, fat zero!
He'd seen Swoop and Slag looking around them in the same fashion, and guessed (unless he'd missed something) that they'd come to the same conclusion. They were history!
What they needed was a distraction. He'd been working on his welded hands, weakening the bonding. He was still going to take most of both palms off when he did it, but he reckoned he could now tear them apart and break free. After that... well, that's when his plan (if you could call it that) sort of ran out of steam. 'Where's the cavalry?' he wondered sulkily. 'Back on Cybertron,' he answered himself, 'with no idea what's going on, or even where it's going on'.
He paused, looking up expectantly. If ever there was a perfect moment for the walls to explode inwards, Autobots armed to the teeth to launch themselves in, Decepticons to get blown to atoms, this was it! If it'd been him, thought Grimlock, that's when and how he'd have done it. 'No class, these Autobots' he wearily surmised.

Fangry was bored. The others may get a kick out of watching a bubble, but not him. He would have enjoyed to hurt the Autobots some more - but no, mister high and mighty Bludgeon forbade it. He wanted the Autobots conscious. Fangry growled, thinking that maybe one day he'd hurt Bludgeon some... just for kicks!
Maybe there was some other life form on or around this boring island. Then he could -
'There', thought Fangry. 'In the water, some movement'. Gleefully, anticipating the carnage to come, he moved in for a closer look. He slipped silently into his beast mode, extending savage retractable claws. 'More work for you,' he thought, smiling. He bent over the now still water, hoping that whatever it was hadn't gone away. And that it was intelligent. The intelligent ones were better - they could appreciate what he was doing to them!

All Nightbeat had to do was push. Bent forwards like that, eyes searching the waters, all it took was one gentle push. Fangry toppled, arms pinwheeling frantically, forgetting he had wings, hitting the water. Instantly he was seized by several pairs of hands, heavy bodies dragging him down. He slashed out with frantic claws, raking for the nearest body. 'Why aren't I hitting anything?' he wondered, 'why -' Then he looked down and saw that both hands had been neatly chopped off at the wrist. 'Some sort of thermal sword,' he thought vaguely before someone (or something) brought a large rock down on his head, ending all thought.
Springer, thermal knife gripped in his teeth, surfaced cautiously. Nightbeat signalled the all clear from his position, pressed tight into a recess on the medical centre's left (blind) wall. Springer didn't like it. Too many unknowns, too many imponderables. All they had were the orbital surveillance pictures of the island. Nothing about the layout of the medical centre itself. At least the pictures showed them beyond any doubt that the Decepticons were here. But where? And how many? What firepower? How many had airborne modes? Lots of questions, but no answers. All they had was the element of surprise. Springer just hoped it would be enough.
A signal from him, and Prowl, Ironhide and Blaster emerged from the water beside him. Silently they made their way onto the island, Nightbeat circling around the other side of the building to join the rest of his team. Their job was to secure the exterior, take out anyone who left. Prime's orders had been explicit. This time, no-one gets away! Springer just wished he knew what was going on in there.
Grimlock gaped, in disbelief. It couldn't be... but it was. The tiny figure gesturing to him from the opposite doorway (diagonally across from the one leading to the control room), was undoubtedly Roadhandler, the seven feet tall Micromaster who belonged to one or other of their ridiculous patrols. 'Blast,' thought Grimlock. He hated subtlety.
But subtle was not to be the way of things. Why exactly Crankcase decided to enter that way was academic. The fact that Roadhandler was there in front of him, clear as the nose on his face, and that all he had to do to see him was look down, was more the case.
To his credit, Grimlock didn't hesitate. He pulled, metal shredded and his hands came apart. Much to Crankcase's horror, Grimlock charged, head lowered, straight at him. Even Bludgeon, fast though he was, didn't react in time. His hurled sword cut slightly across Grimlock's back, but otherwise missed. Grimlock didn't even feel it. He was in so much pain already that such an injury was tiny in comparison. Grimlock connected, the top of his head hammering Crankcase backwards, indenting him into the far wall.
Grimlock spun, snatching up Crankcase's concussion blaster and firing at the first figure to reach the doorway. Dreadwind took the blast full on, the beam of energy punching straight through his chest and out the other side in a spray of molten metal. Grimlock was up and running in the opposite direction, the shouts of the other Decepticons close behind. He knew what he wanted, now if only -
The walls blew inwards, explosions ripping through reinforced stone in an avalanche of crashing masonry and steel girders. 'Better late than never' thought Grimlock, running on.
As the smoke and dust cleared, Bludgeon looked up through the wrecked remains of the wall to see Silverbolt bank away. Air Raid and Skydive were arcing through his jetstream, hurtling down towards the medical centre, loosing off the next barrage of missiles.
"No..." was all he managed before the missiles hit and the shockwaves lifted him off his feet, sending him flying backwards. Running towards the building, firing hand-held blasters, were seven or more Autobots, another - Springer - switching to helicopter mode, armour-piercing bullets ripping through what counter-attack the Decepticons could muster. Octopunch and Stranglehold moved forwards to meet the offensive, the former firing his electro trident, the latter emerging from his outer shell and dropping into rhino mode, charging. But Bludgeon knew a lost cause when he saw one. They needed something more! He turned, looking up at the figure above him.
Swoop groaned as Tote finished freeing his hands, the tiny Autobot moving straight on to free Sludge. Swoop hurt in every imaginable place, but he didn't care. One way or another he was going to kick some tail! They were going to pay for what they'd done to him and the others... in spades!
Prime made his way through the battleground, heading purposefully towards the ravaged medical centre, pausing only to blast Battletrap before his tank mode could put a very big hole through the unsuspecting (and otherwise occupied) Sunstreaker. He took no satisfaction in seeing the Decepticon fall. It was simply a job that had needed doing thoroughly for many years now. It was time.
He almost got one! There was no noise, just a movement almost too fast for the eye to comprehend. Only his own hair-trigger reflexes saved his head from parting company with his shoulders as Bludgeon's sword slashed through the air at him. He ducked, the swipe neatly taking off both raised head antennae. Prime didn't hesitate, lashing out with his left fist. But his attacker was a phantom, there one minute gone the next. Where? Bludgeon rose behind him, sword already plunging down towards Prime's defenceless back...
Suddenly Grimlock hit him, and a full pelt charge sent him flying out of control into the medical centre!
Prime gaped. "Grimlock?"
Standing proudly in front of him, Grimlock smiled, razor sharp teeth glinting in his dinosaur mouth.
"But how..?" began Prime, although he already knew. The scientists here had found the cure, they had discovered a process to purge the system of Nucleon.
"It's just a second treatment, but with new Nucleon," said Grimlock smugly. "Just plug in and in a few minutes joints unlock, wounds heal... and you can transform again! Stupid Decepticons are using old Nucleon to revive Megatron -"
Prime interrupted, a fearful dread seizing him. "Megatron? We must -"
"Too late!" howled a maniacal Bludgeon, "You're too late!" Behind him a figure began to shamble forwards out of the smoke. Autobots and those Decepticons still able turned to witness the grotesque spectacle, their battle forgotten. Growling madly, the part-finished thing that had once been Megatron staggered into view. The monstrosity stopped, looking up with a face that wasn't really a face at all. Its eyes, resting in a bed of raw, naked wires, fixed on Prime. It snarled... and charged!
"Yess!" urged Bludgeon, "kill Prime, kill them all!"
Behind Bludgeon a technician emerged, shouting his protests. "Too soon, he's not finished! He can't -" Bludgeon's sword flashed before anyone could react, and the wounded technician staggered onwards a few paces before finally collapsing.
Bludgeon was suddenly seized by multiple robotic arms, the 'spider' instantly starting to weld, cut and unbolt. In the terrible seconds that followed he was taken apart, piece by piece, circuit by circuit, until component parts were all that was left.
Bludgeon didn't so much as cry out...
At the controls, Swoop smiled. "Gotcha!"
The Megatron thing charged onwards, howling madly as it reached for Prime.
"Together," said Prime.
"Together," agreed Grimlock.
The colossal double blow tore Megatron in half, his shattered upper torso almost exploding with the impact.
He staggered.
And fell.
And lay still.
'Finally,' thought Prime. 'Finally it's over!'

---

That was long ago. And now I stand here, alone with my memories, a solitary figure high up on a mountain Cybertron thrust up many thousands of years ago, its own tribute to the peace that now reigned.
I wish I could just stay here, say nothing. But the lessons of the past cannot be ignored. Once before I shut my eyes, refused to accept the threat, and it almost cost us dear. Now events gather pace once more, and we must be prepared. One of our many probes has reported in from the far reaches of the galaxy, telling of a gathering of Decepticons, a new, more powerful breed, massing for attack. I must go down now, tell my people that their respite is over, that they must once more take up arms and go to war. The future holds only conflict and mayhem!
It never ends!