Part 15 --------------------------------------------------
BGM: Steve Jablonsky - Downtown Battle The clash of tooth and claw rang out loudly, as Victory Leo and Razorclaw tore furiously at each other in their respective lion modes.
The Predacon commander was letting slip the carefully-cultivated mask of analytical calculation with which he typically buried his own more feral urges, and lashed out with a wild abandon. Victory Leo, in contrast, was venting the overwhelming anger and fury he felt at the sight of his home town under attack, aching to rend Razorclaw asunder with his bare claws if he had to.
While the two fought on, Star Saber kept the other Predacons at bay - none daring to close within reach of her deadly blade, but all doing their utmost to try and keep her off-balance, while Divebomb circled overhead and prepared to swoop down for a telling strafing run.
Tantrum tried to use such a moment to get a clear run at what was momentarily Victory Leo's exposed flank - but Star Saber, using Excalibur to parry a strike from Rampage's energo-blade, still managed to reach her left fist over to punch through the exposed dorsal fuel tank on the charging bull's flank, causing a blast large enough to send the Predacon flying to one side.
"If you wish for an available opponent, one stands right in front of you!" she defiantly called out, as she brushed Rampage to one side in turn and assumed a defensive stance, preparing for a further attack.
"Not for long, cursed Autobot!" rashly cried Headstrong, who recklessly took the bait and raced towards Star Saber - only to have his path blocked by the thrown chassis of Razorclaw, who had been overpowered by Victory Leo just moments earlier.
"Don't go too far, I'm not finished with you yet!" roared the winged lion - but Star Saber raised her hand to try and hold his ire in check.
"Wait!" she said, "let's combine and finish this!"
Victory Leo had to try and rein in the more feral urges he seemed to feel in lion form, but if anyone's voice commanded his attention, it was hers. "Right!"
Razorclaw lifted himself off of Headstrong's battered chassis, as he looked to see Star Saber and Victory Leo combine into Victory Saber - and rather than being concerned, merely chuckled. "Only
two of you combining? Curious..."
Calling out to his unit, Razorclaw commanded: "Predacons, let's show them what a real combiner looks like!"
Heeding the command, the four made their way towards their leader, and Victory Saber looked on as the gestalt entity took form.
For the being taking shape before them was no mere amalgamation of parts, no limited fusing of consciousness, no lesser foe to be concerned with.
Predaking... was something
more.
Releasing a low growl, the merged form sized up its opponent, and tensed its claws for the fight to come - as its deep voice rumbled forth. "Let us see how worthy a prey you truly are!"
At this, Victory Saber leaped into the air, and materialised the V-Lock Cannon at its right hip, launching a series of explosive projectiles akin to Broken Phantasms at the foe - but Predaking activated its force field in time to absorb the brunt of the blasts.
"A ranged battle? How unsporting..." goaded Pradaking, who launched himself into the air and prepared Razorclaw's energo-sword and its own enhanced claws to try and reach out for Victory Saber more directly.
Victory Saber, in turn, held Excalibur with both hands, and rushed across to counter-attack. "Then see if you can handle us up close!"
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BGM: Taking Back Sunday - What's it feel like to be a Ghost? In contrast to the highly agile Sweeps obliged by their commander to provide an escort, the bulky shuttle mode Astrotrain was flying in was slow to react to the onrushing Autobot flyers - but he reasoned that he would have just enough time to turn and fight... or at least transform and land.
He would have neither.
Twin streaks of superheated energy raced faster than a human eye could follow, and punched two gaping, white-hot holes through Astrotrain's flanks, and out the other end. Critically hit, the Decepticon soon found itself plunging to the ground, then crashing into the flanks of an abandoned skyscraper.
Rather than show any concern, however, the Sweeps were relieved of the need to protect what they considered to be dead weight, and instantly broke from their escort formation and followed their master Scourge - who was already racing forth into the fray.
Cyclonus, meanwhile, had transformed into his bio-mechanoid form and was hovering over the city. Keeping a close watch on the tide of battle, he bore the responsibility for overseeing the tactical operation... since his own master was rather pre-occupied.
He would not be left untroubled for long, however.
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On the ground below, Ultra Magnus and Landmine transformed near an open square, and the latter took a flanking position as Magnus readied his ordnance cannon, this time choosing to operate it in missile launcher mode.
"Can you draw his attention?" Magnus asked, to which Landmine smirked.
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Smithers himself!" Landmine called out to Cyclonus.
The supremely collected field commander would have brushed off almost any other insult, but the implication of that comment infuriated him. "How
dare you!" he roared, as he plunged towards Landmine's position.
However, his approach was disrupted by the need to evade the barrage of missiles Magnus fired from his launcher, and he relised his error as he found himself drawn into the City Commander's firing line.
"Keep watch of my flank!" Magnus ordered, and Landmine moved off to one side, trying to take pot-shots at Cyclonus while watching for approaching Decepticons.
"Rest assured, Magnus, you won't - ahh!" Cyclonus' words were stifled by a hit from the missile barrage, which staggered him to one side and left him more vulnerable to further strikes.
Magnus spoke coolly, as he locked on for the next wave. "Don't worry, I won't -"
"What the - gaaaah!" Landmine tried to call out, before an onrushing figure used the massive shield on his left forearm to swat the Pretender aside like a fly, before charging on into Magnus himself.
"I've been looking forward to a good shot at you, Ultra Magnus!" Onslaught cried out, as the crunch of impact knocked Magnus to one side, and forcing him to drop his launcher.
As the two began to brawl, Cyclonus approached the prone Landmine, intent on retribution. "If you don't already regret that choice of comment, you will soon enough."
"Heh," Landmine 'spat' fluid back in response. "Of all the things to regret in one's life, getting at the likes of you is not what I'd consider one of them..."
"We'll see," came the reply, as Cyclonus prepared to rip the impudent Autobot's spark core out of his chassis - before he heard a crashing sound come from the building that Galvatron was standing.
Or, at least, was formerly standing.
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"Come on, get your tailpipes out of there already!" Rumble called in, taunting the trapped Decepticons who Soundwave ordered to be removed from the rubble.
While he never tolerated failure, he deemed the humiliation of enduring such a premature burial to be sufficient - not least since the more important task of resuming the search remained.
In any case, he could not afford to be spiteful.
At least, not right now.
Frenzy was providing cover, itching to get in a fight, but knowing better than to refuse one of Soundwave's orders.
However, it seemed that a fight was coming his way, all the same...
A whooshing sound could be heard rushing through the air, and a moment later Frenzy was grasping at his neck, an energo-dagger slicing deeply into it.
As he gurgled and collapsed into stasis lock, the assailant, freshly emerging from seemingly out of the aether, charged forward behind the protection of a red energo-shield, placing well-aimed shots into the other Decepticons between him and Soundwave.
In reponse, Soundwave dismissed the holographic avatar, and transformed into his full biomech mode, readying his own rifle and shoulder-mounted launcher to initiate a counter-strike.
"Soundwave superior, Autobots inferior!" the blue Decepticon stated in his signature monotone - to which the onrushing attacker smirked.
"Autobot?" he responded. "Not quite."
My true 'associates' have plans for you... The distance closed, and the assailant charged forth and placed a disruptive charge onto Soundwave's chest. It soon activated and sent the communications officer into convulsions, before forcing him to transform back into media player mode.
Satisfied, the assailant turned to the remaining members of Soundwave's unit.
... and plans for the rest of you, too. --------------------------------------------------
BGM: Steve Jablonsky - Sam on the Roof "Are you sure about this?" Rin asked, as she held on to her seat, while Rodimus raced through the winding path to the rooftop.
"I stopped him before, Rin," Rodimus tried to reassure her, "and I can do it again."
She was less than convinced. "But you are still not fully recovered from -"
"Trust me, Rin." He reached the rooftop, and the canopy opened above her head as her seat was primed. "Are you ready?"
"Yes." With that, the seat was ejected, and Rin rushed into the air as the vehicle form of Rodimus Prime - a form she could spot the signs of damage on, even as it raced beneath her - burst off the side of the roof into the air, before transforming and diving in towards Galvatron.
She could see the plumes of dust thrown up by the force of the impact, which drove both opponents into the floors beneath them and obscured them from sight.
The seat's automated systems landed her onto the roof, but she had unfastened the seat-straps and jumped away before it touched down.
Stepping over to the edge of the building, she gasped as the full, awful sight could be seen all around her.
Battered ruins and piles of rubble were strewn in the wake of collapsed and gutted buildings, fires were burning in the chassis of ruined vehicles, the skies boomed with the not-so-distant sound of engine wash and weapon fire...
...and she shad a tear at the thought of hoe badly she left like she had failed.
I am a Tohsaka, she thought to herself.
This is my ward - these people my responsbility.
I was supposed to protect them from monsters like these...
I thought it had been enough..
When I... She thought of the sacrifices she had made during the Grail War - some of which made before the awful truth about the Grail's dark corruption came to light.
She had thought that even with all of the pain and hurt and bloodshed, that at least it had been enough to spare the people of Fuyuki-shi from terror.
She shuddered at the thought that some of her classmates, some of her friends... some of her
family... might already be found among the dead.
But, she straightened herself up, and wiped the tear away with the side of her palm.
I am a Tohsaka, she thought once more, as she felt her sorrow and fear turn into steely determination.
And my mission... is only just beginning! With that, she felt the flow of prana course through her veins, as she jumped forth into the air on a carpet of sorcery, and raced onwards to her new destiny.
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BGM: Steve Jablonsky - Optimus Vs Megatron The debris field which had formed in the wake of the impact cleared, and two diametrically opposed figures lifted themselves out of the gashes their massive forms had rent into the rooftop of the building.
As the dust cleared, two sets of optics stared across the space between them intently - as if each pair was trying to bore holes right through to the back of the other's head.
But only for a moment.
Rodimus Prime picked himself up, then began to charge towards Galvatron - to which the latter responded by stretching out his arms, revealing thick bands of obsidian blackness, each with a nano-razor-sharp edge at their extremities.
The
hakai taitei had fashioned the chains which had once bound him into a bitterly ironic choice of weapon.
Galvatron spun the three chains attached to his left wrist, before ferociously whipping them down towards Rodimus. The intended victim had other ideas, however - he dived and rolled diagonally, keeping his momentum going as much as he could while closing the gap between him and Galvatron, and while doing so retracted his left hand. In its place formed a spinning energo-saw, an upgraded form of the saw he had once used to liberate his old mentor from the clutches of a bio-mechanical sea monster on Quintessa.
As Rodimus rolled, he brought his arm up and used the spinning energo-saw to cut through the chains. He struggled to cut through the dense metal, and winced as the part of the chains cut loose lashed down across his chassis.
Galvatron, smirking at the sight, hoped to flay the young Prime as he stood, and readied his right arm for a further strike...
...but the young Prime was not to be taken down so lightly.
Rodimus fought through the pain, leaving the broken ends of the chains behind, as he followed the remainder back to their owner and smashed himself into Galvatron with as much force as he could muster.
This was enough to send the two flying off the far edge of the building, roaring at each other as they plummeted to the distant ground below.
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The opposing squadrons of airborne craft were, at this stage of the engagement, only loosely holding any semblance of a recognisable formation, as Metalhawk, Phoenix and Jetfire engaged Scourge and his Sweeps in bitter aerial combat.
Each one of the Sweeps posed a dangerous threat, but the Autobots were quite aware of how their commander was at a different level altogether.
“Jetfire, Phoenix, formation 2-8-Delta-Yau, engage!” Metalhawk signalled to his comrades, at which the latter two banked to one side, forming a closer formation in an attempt to draw off the remaining Sweeps…
…while Metalhawk himself raced towards Scourge, transformed in mid-air, and brought his energo-blade down towards the ferocious Decepticon.
Said Decepticon, of course, was only too glad to oblige.
“Heh heh heh,” he snorted, while transforming in response and launching a counter-charge, “you would mistake the hunter for the prey, then?”
Scourge knew how much his ‘brother’ pre-occupied with bothersome things like the ‘big picture’ of tactics and strategies, as well as the fate of their ‘beloved’ leader…
…but so long as he got to fight, he cared not one bit.
Scourge’s claws glowed with a rich energon-pulsed light, as he parried the incoming sword strike. “I would be delighted to disabuse you of that notion, Autobot!”
Meanwhile, away from this combat, Victory Saber and Predaking continued their own duel.
Victory Saber was fast, powerful and flexible, seeming to make the most out of both the ranged firepower which Victory Leo brought to the mix, as well as the finely-honed meléé skills which were Star Saber’s forté.
In contrast, Predaking’s actions seemed to be almost too fast for mere rationality or consciousness to take into account for. While the ferocity which abounded within the Predacon team was one thing, not even the formidable skill set of Razorclaw himself could account for the kind of…
instinct that the gestalt possessed in a seemingly endless abundance.
It was far from being just a creature of instinct, however.
“I give you credit,” it remarked, sounding genuinely impressed, as if finding something it had been sorely lacking for a very long time, yet had not really expected to find. “You’re the most worthy prey I have faced in many stellar cycles.”
“We are no-one’s prey!” Victory Saber called back defiantly, its voice almost mid-way between those of its constituent parts. Its yin-yang eyes burned brightly as it shoulder-charged into Predaking’s left flank, and the wings donated by Victory Leo and Divebomb respectively screeched and sparked against one another as the two plunged into the shallow waters of the bay, the two massive opponents crunching into the bed beneath the flotsam.
The fight was by no means done, however, and the two were soon up, tearing at one another with increasing abandon, the few remaining onlookers trying to shelter along the nearby shore gasping in terror.
No matter which proved the victor, they all knew that their lives had changed irrevocably.
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“I bet there’s not a few out there itching to get a chance like this!” Onslaught was, despite himself, savouring the opportunity to get to grips with the (in)famous City Commander – respected, feared and loathed in equal measure by countless Decepticons, and not a few members of other factions who have sought to capitalise on the misery of the Great War over the millennia.
It was not for nothing that Ultra Magnus was so renowned, however. “And you won’t be the last, Combaticon!”
Magnus put his well-worn Diffusion training into practice, as he shifted his chassis weight in order to direct as much of the impact as he could – which, granted, was not overly much, and certainly not enough to stop Magnus from wincing audibly at the pain of the damage Onslaught’s attack had caused.
It was enough, however, to let Magnus get an arm around the side of the Combaticon’s shield, and lift the latter clean into the air, and smashing into the concrete as Magnus rolled and brought his assailant down hard.
“Landmine!” Magnus called out, all too aware that he was still in no position to intercept Cyclonus in time to prevent him from trying to finish off his comrade, but…
In a flash, Magnus reached over to pick up the launcher he had been forced to let go of when Onslaught charged, and had just about enough time to throw it in Cyclonus’ direction before Onslaught grappled the City Commander once again.
For the time being, there was nothing more he could do.
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The sound of the air being parted by the thrown weapon reached Cyclonus’ aural sensors only a fraction of a second after the thunderous crash which signalled that his lord and the Prime were on their way down to their level, in a less than measured fashion.
“Mi-” Cyclonus’ cry was interrupted as he was knocked to one side by the sheer mass of the oversized rocket launcher, and the prone Landmine couldn’t resist a bout of acerbic laughter at the Decepticon’s expense.
“Aren’t you supposed to be one of those hyper-aware Unicron-forged super-mechs, Mr. Smithers?” he chuckled, fighting down the fluid forming in his mouth from an unhealed rupture in the back of his throat. “You can chase a ship halfway across the galaxy, but get flat-footed by a… *cough* …giant chunk of metal!”
Such impudence would have earned Landmine an excruciating, and very final, retribution from Cyclonus at any other time – but once he shook off the moment of disorientation, there were far more pressing matters to attend to.
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Here he
is, the voice said, almost, but not quite, tainting him – never quite going away, but not often as assertive than it was at present.
“Quite so,” Galvatron replied, not even realising he was speaking aloud while doing so.
Ironically, Rodimus Prime – the one Autobot that had, in some way, haunted Galvatron’s thoughts ever since that terrible, calamitous day, separated from the present by only two years on a calendar, but by an immense gulf of void in the Emperor of Destruction’s tormented consciousness – had just made some comment or other regarding ‘last battle’ or ‘it ending here’ or some such nonsense, though its intended recipient seemed to have a more… immediate conversation partner.
Go, fight him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. the voice commanded, taking on a more assertive tone than Galvatron had expected to hear from it.
“I don’t need to be told!” the
hakai taitei roared, as he lashed out with his bare hands, again and again and again, trying to breach the Prime’s defences and rip his faceplate off.
But he was parried, blocked, shunted at every turn. The Prime could fight, and fight well, in this close-quarters kind of match-up which even in his pre-Matrix days was his favoured melée range.
Galvatron’s frustration mounted, as his retribution –
or was it even that? he wondered to himself for a moment – seemed to be, literally, out of reach.
What are you waiting for?
Are you not the heir of Megatron?
Is this not your destiny, to extinguish the park of Primes?
To forge a legacy of war and death throughout the cosmos? “Enough…”
Do it. Do it now. “…I said…”
DO IT! “ENOUGH!”
He had been knocked to one side by the Prime, and almost out of sheer frustration, his hand reached to the ground, as if to throw the debris at his enemy’s face – when he managed to grab one of the severed heads of the chain he had fashioned earlier.
Leaping forth, he stabbed the edge towards the Prime – the blade biting deep into the forearm which had been brought up to stifle the blow – and Galvatron pressed the arm back towards the Prime’s chest, seeking to force the weapon through the other side of the forearm and deep into the torso itself.
It was insane…
…but it worked.
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Rodimus Prime had forced himself through far too much already, in such a relatively short time.
He had still not recovered from the brutal assault by the Fallen, which had left scars that neither the set of regen treatments he had been given to try and recuperate, nor even the life-giving properties of the Matrix itself once re-claimed, could have undone.
And now, having gone into this critical fight in such a condition, he was straining himself to his limits in order to take on a foe he had last won against only as a freshly-minted Prime… and remembered all too clearly how close he had come before that to not having any future at all.
But it was not enough.
“Aaaaaaagh!” he screamed, as the spike pierced his blocking forearm, and he felt the tip dig into his chest, just above the point behind which the Matrix itself was housed.
He felt himself sink to his knees, as the inexorable might of the Decepticon emperor bore down upon him, remorseless and without mercy.
He felt so weak…
I can’t let myself fail, he thought, his mind fogging over, the strength in his limbs starting to flag.
It can’t end… like this… So many people had needed him, had looked up to him, had turned to him as some sort of ‘Chosen One’ – as if he could somehow speak for Primus Himself, in the wake of the horrors wrought by Unicron in 2005.
Of the losses suffered by the climax of the Great War.
Of the death of no less a leader than Optimus Prime.
Is this it? he cursed at himself.
Is this all that I am, all that I can be? His optic-lids closed over, as he tried to push the pain away…
“Get your fucking act in gear, damnit!”
His optics opened again, and looked past Galvatron’s features to see a fiery young lady race down the flanks of a building on wings of pure energy, her hand outstretched and aimed at the lieutenant who was lifting himself up to hover over what he seemed to have hoped was the sight of his ‘Mighty’ leader finishing his weakened foe off.
Rodimus could see Cyclonus try to reach out and rake the Terran out of the sky, but she was two steps ahead, sweeping to one side and barrelling around to pepper his back with alternating bolts of flame, ice and void.
And she was actually hurting him, too!
“If I have to shoo these Decepticon bastards out of my city alone,” she called down to him, her voice thick with rage and defiance, “I’ll pull you back from whatever the hell your version of the Afterlife is, so I can send you back there myself!”
Galvatron looked up, seemingly in a kind of daze, but lucid enough for that moment to smirk at the Terran’s audacity.
It was all the time that Rodimus needed.
“Rrrrrrr…” Rodimus Prime lifted himself forward, taking the wound to the chest as he forced Galvatron back, and smashed into the Decepticon’s face with a powerful right hook.
Galvatron’s grip weakened, and Rodimus tore his still-pierced arm free, leaving a fresh gash in his chest as he expended his last reserves at tearing into his foe.
One punch rattled the armour on Galvatron’s shoulder. A knee to the chest shattered the transparent crimson plates in the
hakai taitei’s abdomen. A stomp on the right thigh crumpled the skeletal structure beneath, bringing Galvatron to his knees, while a forceful downward elbow cracked into his back.
His energy almost spent, Rodimus Prime clamped onto one of the three horns protruding from Galvatron’s helmet, and reached over to grasp onto his head with the other.
“No…” Galvatron called out, “It… can’t… it can’t be…”
Rodimus had only three words.
“Yes, it is!”
With a bellowing roar, Rodimus expended the very last drops of energy, pulling upwards, straining the connections linking Galvatron’s head to his shoulders…
…until with a sickening lurch, they tore free completely.
Galvatron’s remaining chassis flopped forward, shaking involuntarily, as the head flew away out of Rodimus’ grasp, becoming buried in a pile of dust and debris.
But Rodimus could do no more.
He leaned away from his foe’s remains, tried to carry himself forward, but made it no further than the second step before he fell forward, his collapse arrested by the outstretched fingers of his hands on either side.
His last thought before losing consciousness was something which, had he the energy left for it, would have drawn a smile.
I guess she won’t have to kill me, after all. And with that, his eyes faded, then all became darkness.
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End of part 15.
