LibriumArcana.Games

Location: Canada Tar Sands


"Nyet, Nyet, Nyet! Is go over to otherside!" Gridlock rumbled out in the horrendously thick Russian accent, "Go other side to second floor refinery! You find location there!"

The massively tall, burly Autobot Engineer swore to himself in heavy accented Russian, as his slightly shorter, stockier compatriot, Wideload, stomped up.

"Is no good, humans misplace Cube Regenerator Matrix! Break the polycobide bit again! Is worse than waking up in Siberian tundra with no underwear!"

The humans, in question, where busy moving heavy equipment and materials, as Gridlock supervised the construction of the Canadian Tar Sands Production Facility.

"Wideload, comarade, you go help get in place da? Prime coming soon, must be ready! Stalin turn in his grave at how inefficient we are da? Then go!"

Wideload nodded his head and transformed into his alternate form, moving to assist the human workers.

Prime was due in a week, the new security and construction teams sooner than that, and the facility was only 65% completed!

"Is not enough vodka in all of Moscow..." Gridlock lamented, as he went to check on the drilling team.

------ ------


Location: New Kaon (Formerly Qatar)


Megatron sat in his throne, the massive wall of view screens giving him information feeds from all corners of his burgeoning empire and beyond. From the Decepticon spy satellites place in orbit by Blastoff and Astrotrain, to the human news feeds that could never be encrypted well enough to block out the Decepticon receivers, to his own spys through out the human countries - he could see it all.

And at the moment, one thing interested him greatly. In the North American continent, the Autobots were preparing to tap one of the greater concentrations of unrefined petroleum in the area - a concentration he intended to tap soon enough.

"Black Ice," the gravely voice called out into the darkness, the face of his most successful assassin appeared on the center most viewer, "I have a mission for you....."




"I tell you now Thundercracker," Starscream spoke to his subordiant, "If I ran things, we'd own this planet by now, have crushed the Autobots and drained every last micro-erg of energy from it's crust. We're waisting our time here."

"I don't know Starscream, Megatron sure seems like he knows what he's doing. Besides, you've tried to take command from him, and failed how many times exactly?"

Thundercracker's faceplate was lite up with a smirk of smugness at pointing out the Air Commander's private shame. There wasn't much he could do really, Starscream was still superior to him in the air..and in rank, but every little bit of amusement.

"I tell you now Thundercracker..Megatron's time wil..." Starscream's voice was cut short at the sounds of heavy footfalls on the metal. Starscream's optics froze as they say the gleaming, nearly organic looking form of Chimera walking down the hall. Thundercracker quickly made some excuse, something about seeing Trauma for a maintence check, before trailing out of the local vicinity.

Chimera, the Abomination. Spark Eater, they called him, and Starscream had the unpleasent time of watching the monstrous Decepticon in battle, and what he did to prisoners deemed no longer important.

"Chimera.." Starscream said, practically oozing smarm, "such a pleasure to see you.."

Chimera looked down on the Seeker, almost seemed to be sizing him up, a predatory gleam in his eyes that would make Razorclaw proud, had the Predacon commander been around to see it, flashed, before the soothing, calm voice of Chimera came out, carrying a certain degree of aristocricy to it, that belied the monstrous appearence, "Air Commander...such a pleasure to see you, very unexpected. Tell me, have you had a chance to overlook the latest research I've prepared concerning Polydermal cybernetic grafting?"

Chimera's clawed hand laid down on Starscream's shoulder, as the larger Transformer began to walk down the hall with the smaller, gayly talking about what he thought was the next step in Transformer evolution......

A battered spaceship drifted through the Sol System. On board only a few systems were operational, counting the time until zero hour was reached. The last time increment expired and power from half depleted reserves once again flowed through the ship. Deathstrike awoke.

It had been decades since he had detected the radio emissions from this star system and began his journey. He had long ago lost the capacity for FTL, even if he could have afforded the energy to utilize it. Instead he had set his course and shut down, conserving his energy for his arrival.

Now he drifted near the third planet in the system, appearing to most eyes as nothing but a dark piece of space debris. He drank in the transmissions and signals from the world and was greatly disturbed. In the intervening decades, Cybertronian life had become active here. Decepticons, lead by Megatron himself, dominated nearly half the world and Autobots protected the rest. He had come expecting a barely developed world with resources he could plunder to restore his energy supplies and reverse some of the deterioration he had suffered during his long exile.

He considered his options as he drifted in far orbit around the planet. The opportunities for recovery and restoration were so much greater now, but so were the dangers. He could flee to another star system, further depleting his energy reserves and risking more damage.

He did not need long to consider. This existence was not living. Live or die, he would once again be Deathstrike the warrior, rather than a pathetic scavenger. He might perish in the attempt, but at least he would die fighting rather than crumbling to pieces. He searched for targets, concentrating in Autobot territory as he had no desire to try and face Seekers in the air. Not in this state.

He found a place, northern, isolated. An oil refinery and processing plant powered by a nuclear reactor. It would take the Autobots too long to react. He would be able to recharge and be gone, ready to seize the parts and materials to begin rebuilding himself. His engines flared briefly, correcting his course. With just a little luck, anyone who noticed him would see just another meteor.

The sleek Harley Davidson touring bike was something that the oil crisis had nearly made a thing of the past, yet here the deep, nearly blood red motorcycle was, making the roadside echo with the powerful roar that was best described as 'the Harley sound.'

The holomatter rider, a female form in tight black leathers and an open-face helmet looked over her shoulder at the military vehicle trailing behind her. "Com'on, Stryke... can't you go any faster than that?" Crimson teased, downshifting to drop back beside him.

Stryke growled, his holomatter rider turned his head and looked down at the little motorcycle. "Some of us aren't as zippy as you as Crim." He rolled down the road. "So, remind me again of what I'm doing out here, babysitting you, when I could be out there, kicking some 'Con butt."

Rail lines followed highways. It was one of those things. Overload was pulling many times his own weight in supplies and parts for the refining operation, not to mention the massive Autobot at the end of the train, Shellshock. "You're helping make sure the warriors have the juice they need to keep fighting, kid. So keep it in drive." The old timer rumbled, chugging along, keeping pace with the others.

"Shellshock, you okay back there? No freezing up, I hope."

"I never asked for a guardian," Crimson retorted over the sound of both her own motor and Overload's chugging. "I'm here to find the best way to get the oil out of the ground, refine some into Energon, and maybe map out more places to look. Why IronHide has you following me, I have no clue."

Although, she did have suspicions. On a world where 80% of the available energy was under enemy control, her skill at finding energy producing ores that could become Energon was a huge asset.

"Is good, keep raising!"

Gridlock was still a flurry of activity, the new bit was delivered to the drilling crew, who was pulling the pipe in order to replace the broken one, Wideload managed to get the last bit of equipment into place, and the humans were making the final connections. Soon, the convoy was scheduled to arrive, and they'd almost be back on schedule.

"Wideload, watch the humans! You nearly ran over the crew!"

"Damn люди будут болью в моих стогах Gridlock вытыхания." Wideload replied to his assosciate.

"Nyet! Speak the English wideload! Da humans speak English. They not know the Mothertongue!"

"тупоумный fucking сынок melter шлака. Не достаточная водочка в мати России." Wideload muttered through the comm channels, as he transformed, and prepared to help the humans lay the foundation for the next section of the refinery.

A meteor blazed its way across the skies of Northern Alberta. Below him Deathstrike could see both the nuclear power plant and the unfinished oil refinery that the reactor would power. The oil would have been nice, but he could directly feed his circuits with the electricity. He nudged his course slightly. Just another minute or two and he would be there.

"Wow! Meteor!" Crimson exclaimed, watching the blazing trail come in low, rapidly calculating the trajectory. "It's going to land near the nuclear plant... she finished in a more sober tone, wondering if the 'meteor' just made a course correction, or if there was a glitch in her calculations.

"Overload, ShellShock, Stryke? I'm going to check it out." she announced as she sped away from the convoy. "I think the meteor just made a course change."

With that and a rumbling roar that would shake any small car, the Harley tore off down the road to catch the falling star.

"Keep in contact." Overload rumbled as he continued on. "If it gets ugly, get the hell back and we'll saturate the area with shells. It might be Human tech, but trust me, not even Decepticons get back up fast after a round from Shellshock's cannon."

Stryke turned and followed Crimson. "Overload, call me if you need anything, I've got to follow our little friend here." He called back to the train. The holomatter driver turned back to Crimson. "Command ordered me to protect you with my life, so where you go, I follow."

The traitor before him issued forth a sound from his vocal emitter that had it come from a fleshling been something akin to a whimper of pain. The traitor's body was currently pinned against the wall by a very large and sharp blade attached to the arm of Black Ice.

Behind Ice lay the broken bodies of this traitor's allies. This was the last one left alive. If you could call what remained of the ravaged 'con life.

Wire bundles and internal mechanical parts were exposed to the air through a gaping hole in its chest plate. Its legs were severed at the thigh level and one arm was missing entirely, the other seperated at the elbow joint. Already the optics were dimming as energy loss began to claim its toll.
"And now you know the pain of betrayal," hissed Ice's whispery voice right next to the 'con's auditory receptors.
"Only in this final moment does your worthless existance have merit. And that is only to serve as a warning to other wouldbe traitors the price of abandoning the Almighty Megatron."

Ice's hand reached into the broken chest cavity and clasped itself around the spark chamber. The hand closed and pulled outwards. The chamber broke free with a crackle of energon and electricity, sparks flying. The spark inside the chamber glowed brightly for a second as Ice held it up for the con to see. The con's optics flickered, dimmed and died completely as the spark did the same.

Ice dropped the empty, dead container and yanked his blade free from the torso of the 'con. The corpse fell to the ground amongst the other traitors. The blade flipped back into its cavity inside of his arm, locking into place once more as the panel that hid them slid back into place as well.

Megatron's voice came from his comm unit as he turned to look up one of the ever present cameras that seemed to lurk in every shadow of the Decepticon stronghold.
"You call, Oh Mighty Megatron?"

Crimson was running flat out. She'd only had a little time to play in this new Alt-form, and the convoy she was riding with meant she'd never had a chance to really see how fast she could go. Back on Cybertron, she'd been able to turn a nice klick, but the long years on Harvester meant flying down the road at speed was once again something new and exciting.

So she had passed 90mph and was still climbing as she turned on her comm. "I'm not stupid, I'm going to keep my comm open to you boys," she chuckled. "I could be wrong about the course change. It could be a glitch in my calculations, or just the meteor tumbling oddly. It's definately metal, and oddly shaped, that's all I can tell you right now."

Deathstrike's course was about to take him over the nuclear power plant that would feed the unfinished refinery. The Decepticon transformed, moving from spacefighter to robot mode in two seconds. Deathstrike's thrusters roared and the Decepticon altered course, descending upon the power plant.

Heat ripples surrounded the warrior and smoke rose from some of his armour plates. Deathstrike was big, almost the same height as Optimus Prime and Megatron although not quite as broad. His armour was patchy, the result of thousands of years of repair and replacements with inferior materials. Most of it was midnight blue, but patches of black and dark grey marred his armour scheme. The joins in several places were imperfect, having buckled during the stress of reentry,

A vicious cannon with a flanged barrel was attached to his right forearm and linked to a laser generator chamber on this upper arm. His eyes glowed red and a battered Decepticon symbol could be seen on his chest. Humans scattered away from him like jackals from a lion. He noted their presence, but did nothing else. He had neither the energy to waste nor the inclination to kill fleshlings who were wise enough to flee from his presence.

"WOAH!!!" Crimson shouted over the comm. "That's No Rock!"

The loud roaring of her engine cut out as if it had never been, and her voice was much softer. "We have an unknown transformer landing at the Nuclear Plant." she informed the convoy. "Going to Silent Mode and closing in for a better look. If needed, I'll paint a target for Shellshock... If you can wake him up."

Now this was something she had experience in... even if it was probably centuries ago with Elita-1's guerrilla troops. Time to sneak up and see who'd dropped in on them.

Stryke strained his engine, reaching his top speed of 82 MPH. While he was far faster than his Alt forms true speed, he couldn't match Crimson in terms of speed. "Crim, if it's hostile, paint the target and then get the hell out of there. You're to be protected, don't risk yourself."

The monitors surrounding the one which currently held Black Ice's face shifted images, from their respective feeds, to instead show him the carnage his assassin had wrought upon the traitors. With the power he currently possessed, and the Energon being drawn from the Earth, Megatron was very nearly all powerful, yet still, upstarts desired to usurp his rule, set up their own fiefdoms in what he had built.

What they would never understand, is that to rule, you had to command respect, had to be stronger, faster, smarter, and more observant than your competition. And for all these millions of years, Megatron was the one Decepticon who was all that, and more. It was why HE lead the Decepticons, and he always would.

As powerful as he was though, he could not be everywhere...and that is why he had agents like Black Ice. His hand and optics where he could not be.

Megatron took a astrosecond to appreciate the handiwork Ice had demonstrated on the cell of traitors, here in his own capitol city.

"You've completed your previous assignment." It wasn't a question, merely a statement of fact that issued from the gravely voiced Emperor of Destruction - the title he gave himself now adays. "I have another assignment for you Black Ice...in the region known as North America...."

Megatron issued his commands over the secured comm channel, monitored only by one of his most loyal servants, Soundwave.

"Your mission begins as soon as you are re-energized and re-equipped. How you complete it, I leave to your own devices Black Ice."


------ ------ ------

Gridlock, while busy with the refinery, wasn't completely unaware of the situation. He witnessed the meteor's descent, then it's transformation, even as his optics zoomed in on it.

"Decepticon" he shouted, even as the humans started running from the landing site.

"Wideload, преобразовывает, куча шлака Decepticon на электрическаяа станция! Спешность теперь!" Gridlock shouted, as he started off running towards the power plant, before deciding to just transform, and roll for it.

Wideload wasn't very far behind him, as the two construction workers hoped the humans would be alright...and the Decepticon wouldn't damage the reactors to badly.

"And what is this mission, my Lord Megatron? My refueling shall not take long, these whelps did not put up much of a struggle."

"Infiltration, sabotage and ultimately, destruction of our enemies, of course my minion. The Autobots are setting up a Energon production facility in the area known as the Canadian Tar Sands. I want you to infiltrate the Autobots protecting the site, and report to me of the ongoings. Eventually, we will take it from them..."

Megatron seemed almost pleased, the plan was vague, but with Ice, it was best to be vague - he worked best when given leeway. And Megatron learned Black Ice always worked for Megatron's best interest.

"Great. Shellshock's gone to take a nap and we've got an inbound." Overload found addition power somewhere and cranked up the speed. "Well, I suppose if it's polite enough to stand on the tracks, I could just hit it with all this cargo.." He commented, continuing to try and rouse his colleague.

Deathstrike had chosen his landing place with an eye to defence. He was right next to the reactor driven turbines, allowing him to simply pull down the transmission wires, open a panel on his forearm, and plug them in. Electricity surged into his system, beginning to recharge his depleted systems. As a bonus, his position near the reactor would make any potential attackers hesitant to open fire upon him. The locals had wisely made the containment vessels extremely sturdy, but any weapon that could harm a Cybertronian would also be capable of damaging them as well. Deathstrike wasn't Shockwave, but the two Decepticons had often seen eye to eye.

He calmly surveyed the surrounding terrain. Two large construction vehicles, apparently of local design, were heading towards him. The odds of fleshlings attempting to challenge him in civilian vehicles was too low to be worthy of calculation. Autobots.

The silent motorcycle arrived on-site, sliding to a halt far faster than the base form would be able to without wrecking. For the moment, the Decepticon's attention was on the two contruction vehicles... probably the Autobots Crimson and the boys were coming to reinforce. The bad part was where the Decepticon was standing.

"Bad news. Decepticon, alone... looked like he was beat half to scrap and then repaired badly. Mostly blue, and the rest Bondo," she reported to those behind her in a low voice. "He's right next to the turbine, so shelling is a NoGo. Understand?"

The motorcycle moved out of the road, the holomatter rider watching intently as she circled around to try to get out of the main fight and for a possible shot without hitting the turbines. Maybe she could hit the wires, disconnect him...?

An overly loud yawn came fromt he giant cannon being carried by Overload.

"I don't complain when you're useless past 20 meters away from the Decepticons." Shellshock came to awareness, his sensors reaching out and focusing on the object that had come down.

Moments after Crimson made her comment Shellshock piped in "She's right. If we didn't care about losing the site I'd be able to turn him into a fine mist, but as it is, no go until we get closer."

The giant cannon turned and looked at the targetted area. "Two other signatures moving in as well, Gridlock and Wideload?"

Gridlock closed in on the reactor turbines, as Wideload circled around wide to try to get in behind the Decepticon.

"Decepticon," Gridlock shouted, never switching from his alt-mode, while trying to line up a shot with his weapons , "You are surronded, da. Give up and we not turn you into molten pile of slag. We goto Pit Stop and drink Vodka da?"

Wideload, for his part, was almost in position, having circled around, and Transformered into his robot mode, the Black Light Pistol held in his hand. A none lethal weapon, it had perhaps the best chance to letting them do something.

"Autobot convoy is enroute, you will be outnumbered, come peacefully comrade - is better to drink Vodka than make pointless fighting."

"Of course, Megatron. It shall be as you say."

Black Ice closed his communication circuit and left the charnel house of a room as it was. Better for someone else to find it and the word to spread then to try to hide the evidence.

He didn't even bother with repairs to his form. They were minor and the various scuffs and scratches would only serve to help his next mission which he was already planning. Anything to help his cover.

He made his way to one of the energon storage rooms and entered it discretely. There he tapped a few cubes to top himself off. Afterwards, with equal discreteness he left the room and made his way to the top of the compound.

On the roof he took off and shifted forms, turning into a Comanche helo. His nose dipped as he changed course and headed towards the North American continent. It would take him some hours to cover that distance in this form.