He stretched out his senses, maintaining an awareness of the energies around him that few of his kind could manage for very long. Which was why he had been chosen for this particular assignment. When he had arrived, word had already been spreading throughout the camp about the robots the scouting party had engaged. More interesting, however, was the fact that there was a Seer amongst them-- it was almost too good to be true. And so he sat on the edge of camp, his senses stretched to their fullest extent, questing for the distinct aura of a Seer. The commander had been certain the robots would return, try to stop them. What a laughable thought. Ah well, if the things wished to deliver the Seer to them, so much the better; it saved them the trouble of hunting him down.
A sudden awareness surged across his mind, and he immediately snapped his attention back to the task at hand. Several beings had gathered on the cliffs surrounding the camp, their unfamiliar presences as evident as a flashing sign proclaiming "Here we are!". So the commander had been right, the things had returned, and with them the Seer.
He skillfully focused on their auras, seeking one in particular. After only a few seconds, he found it, and nearly fell over from shock at what he felt. By the gods, such potential! And such turmoil; having a difficult time dealing with your talents, eh, little one? This one would be easy pickings for the Overlord-- such a wealth of power, and so little effort would be required to put it to their uses.
They are here, Commander. Shall we take them?
Negative. Let us first see what they hope to accomplish. I want it made clear, however, that under no circumstances is the Seer to be allowed to escape.
Of course, my liege. I'll have the troops converge on their position.
"I really hate bait duty," Cheetor grumbled as he and Silverbolt waited for Optimus and the others to get into position.
"I prefer the term 'distraction'," Silverbolt replied evenly, a hint of a smile playing about the corners of his mouth.
"Yeah well, whatever you call it, it's time to get started. Y'know? Those little buildings don't look too sturdy."
"Hmm, no they do not."
"It would really be a shame if someone came along and, oh I don't know, blew 'em to smithereens."
"Indeed it would." The two Maximals grinned at each other, earlier argument forgotten in the face of the coming challenge.
"Well what're we waiting for? Let's rock 'n roll!" With that, Cheetor leaped over the edge of the cliff, reverting to his beast form as he went, and shot down over the alien camp as fast as his jets could carry him, Silverbolt close behind.
As they approached, a swarm of tall shadowy figures rushed out to meet them, eerily silent as they gestured wildly to each other and raised their weapons to the two incoming Maximals. Silverbolt fired several missiles in quick succession and was satisfied to see three of the creatures at the head of the pack go flying back into their comrades. Ahead of him, Cheetor abruptly changed his heading and plowed into one of the nearby structures, toppling it easily. They had clearly been built only to supply temporary shelter until more permanent quarters could be errected. Well, if they Maximals had anything to say about it, they'd never get the chance.
Cheetor wheeled about without slowing his pace and "buzzed" a group of four aliens, laughing aloud as they threw themselves to the ground. To his left, he heard still more explosions as Silverbolt attacked the buildings himself. Then a new sound intruded on his awareness-- high pitched whine of one of the alien weapons being fired. More out of instinct than anything else, Cheetor dived towards the ground, allowing the bolt of energy to pass harmlessly overhead. "Oh, they wanna play rough, huh? Cheetor, Maximize!" He transformed in midair and dropped lightly to the ground, then immediately ducked behind the edge of one of the buildings. Silverbolt seemed to be managing to keep out of range of the energy bolts, as well as keeping the aliens' attention on him. It wouldn't last for long, though. "Hey, Rattrap, you wanna snap it up a little? These guys aren't gonna be happy until they've deep-fried us!"
"Look kiddo, I'm workin' as fast as I can. You want me ta blow us up too?"
Cheetor didn't answer, for at that moment, a section of wall three inches from his head began to hiss and melt. Cheetor whipped around to see two of the aliens rushing towards him, weapons charged and glowing.
A hundred yards away from Cheetor and Silverbolt's position, Rattrap worked fervently. Three more charges to set and then they could all go home. Nearby, Optimus and Rhinox axiously kept one eye on the battle, and one eye out for any guards that might have been left behind. Thusfar, they had been able to go about their business unmolested, but the lack of guards was worrying Rattrap; and he had long ago learned to trust such gut feelings when they came. Something was not right. A frantic call from Silverbolt only added to his problems.
"Optimus! Cheetor's been pinned down just left of my position, and I am barely holding my own as it is. We need help!" A loud cry of pain interrupted any further report and the transmission was cut off.
"Go on, I can get the rest of 'dese set up myself," Rattrap said briskly, for once skippinng the sarcastic commentaries. Optimus nodded tersely and he and Rhinox raced off to help their teammates. "It's always somethin'. We ever get off this dirtball I am never leaving Cybertron again," he muttered before going back to work.
Cheetor froze for just an instant, but it was long enough for his opponents to skid to a halt and level their weapons at his throat.
Pain, nothing but pain. Something reaching out for him, drawing him in. Twisted, dark... don't give in! Get away, get away, have to fight it! Fire and shadows, don't give in to the shadows. So many have been lost to the shadows. No!
They fought, they fought so hard and in the end it was for nothing. They watched in silent horror-- watched their homes burn to the ground. Watched as their whole world was consumed by the fire, the fire and the shadows. Fight them, fight them! Never give up!
The images faded, and left him staring once again at his two would-be captors. They were staring back at him in frank shock, their weapons momentarily forgotten. It was all the opportunity he needed. Before the aliens had time to react, he threw himself to the side, bringing his own laser to bear on them and firing at the same time. The emerald light lanced through the night air and struck one of the beings square in the chest. The thing let out an agonized howl and crumpled to the ground, clutching its smoking, sparking chest.
Sparking?
He didn't have time to dwell on the phenomenon-- he had to get back to Silverbolt. As Cheetor drew closer to the area Silverbolt had been fighting in, he became aware of several things. First and foremost Silverbolt had been downed; one wing hung limp and useless, a large black scorch marking the area where he had been grazed by the alien firepower. Secondly, he was now surrounded by their unwelcome guests, though he could just make out Optimus and Rhinox rushing to his aid. Thirdly, he noticed they would never make it in time-- one alien had raised his weapon for the killing blow.
Cheetor growled low in his throat and increased his already lightning-fast pace.
The alien never knew what hit him. Cheetor didn't waste time aiming at the creature, he merely barrled straight into it, tackling it to the ground. "Te'quiath ma'or," he hissed as he wrested the aliens weapon away. The words were perhaps the worst insult he could have offered to the alien, an insult to the creature's honor, religion, parents, offspring, and just about anything else that could be insulted.
They were words Cheetor had never in his life heard before.
He finally managed to wrench the creature's weapon from its grasp and leaped to his feet. He hesitated for a split second, then began peppering the area with the energy bolts, forcing the aliens away from him and Silverbolt.
"Nice save," Silverbolt gasped, trying to keep his injured wing still.
"Yeah, let's see if I can keep it up." By this time, Optimus and Rhinox were close enough to add their own coverfire, and Cheetor took the opportunity to retreat, half-dragging Silverbolt behind him.
"Fall back to the gate," Optimus ordered as Cheetor and Silverbolt reached their position. The aliens were advancing quickly, laying down a steady stream of glowing energy bolts as they came.
"This is getting out of hand," Rhinox stated calmly as he and Optimus began backing up, still firing.
"That, old friend, is putting it mildly."
Rattrap had just set the last explosive when Cheetor and Silverbolt stumbled into his view. He took in their battered appearance and sighed. "I take it things aren't going accordin' to plan?" he asked dryly.
"Do they ever?" Cheetor retorted, tossing the alien weapon to the ground. Just then Optimus and Rhinox appeared, Rhinox sporting a newly singed shoulder.
"We've got about thirty seconds to get out of here. Are those charges set?" Optimus demanded. Rattrap nodded shortly. "Good, now let's blow this thing and go home."
"Now where have I heard 'dat before?" Rattrap murmured to no one in particular.
"I am afraid that will be impossible," a new voice intoned from behind them.
"I knew it, I knew it-- we're all gonna die!" Rattrap turned to see the leader of the aliens standing behind them, along with four other soldiers.
The leader smiled coldly. "Well, not all of you. We have use for your Seer; turn him over to us now and I promise you a quick death." The voice sounded as though it were coming through vocal cords not made for speaking. Cheetor had flinched at the mention of "seers", but the others were too busy looking for an opening to notice.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Optimus said evenly, meeting the leader's cold gaze. The alien looked back at him a moment, then burst into laughter. The sound sent chills racing up and down Cheetor's spine.
"You're telling the truth! You really don't know what you have. Oh, this is interesting," the leader gasped. In a flash his expression became deadly serious. "But that does not matter now. I suggest you make your peace with whatever gods you worship... you'll be seeing them momentarily."
There are those who say that there is no such thing as a miracle. As long as he lived, however, Rattrap would be sure that it had been nothing short of a miracle that saved them from certain death at that moment. With a low hum, the gate began powering up, scarlet bolts of lightning racing across its surface. At such close range, Rattrap could feel the heat building in the pitted metal. The instant the aliens' attention was diverted away from them, the Maximals dove for cover. Rhinox and Optimus ducked behind one of the remaining domes, while Cheetor, Silverbolt, and Rattrap scurried to the area where one of the arches touched the ground and crouched beside the metal. The aliens, however, were beating a hasty retreat to the buildings, and Cheetor suddenly had the distinct feeling that they had not chosen the best place to take cover. As the aliens vanished into the shadows, the leader turned and grinned at him, his expression one of pure malice.
Cheetor realized too late what the alien found so amusing. With an ear-splitting burst of sound, the scarlet energy converged in the center of the arches, to form a glowing portal...and the three Maximals suddenly found themselves at the mercy of a gale force wind.
A wind that began pulling them into the portal.
Cheetor gripped a small protrusion of metal with all his might, as did Silverbolt and Rattrap. Dimly, the three Maximals could hear Optimus and Rhinox calling to them, but the wind masked their actual words. They held on for dear life, knowing that if they lost their grip it would in all likelihood be the end of them.
The pull of the wind increased. They lost their grip. Cheetor, Silverbolt, and Rattrap were swept through the portal. The crimson energy engulfed them, and with it came wave after wave of pain too intense to describe.
The scarlet glow faded and died, leaving two Maximals staring at the now dormant gate in shock and disbelief.
And deep withing Its hiding place, the Guardian let out a wail of grief and despair.