Cyclonus and Scourge are Dead!
By Mark Stevenson

Note: This story takes place after 1988 story The Legacy of Unicron (issues 146-151) and before the Headmasters mini-series

Earth year 2008 - the planet of Junk....

"Well, I don't think there can be any doubt - nothing could have survived that blast," observed Smokescreen, as he booted aside a small chunk of still warm metal. It was one of the larger remaining parts of Unicron's time portal, which had been destroyed - along with the partially reconstructed demi-god - a few hours earlier. The surface of Junk, which had always been at the top of Smokescreen's 'Appropriately-Named Planets' list, certainly bore the scars of the battle; a huge, black, smoking crater was all that remained of the evil giant and his bizarre tool. "Fairly safe to say that we've seen the last of those three." "I'm not so sure, Smokescreen," said the Autobot leader, Rodimus Prime, staring thoughtfully into the pit. He, Wreck-Gar and Smokescreen were waiting patiently for emergency crews to arrive from Cybertron and help with the cleanup operation. "We're still not totally sure of the sequence of events. Death's Head told me that thing was some kind of time portal that Unicron had forced the enslaved Junkions to build. Just before Wreck-Gar's explosives destroyed both the machine and Unicron, Death's Head attacked those two Decepticons. I saw them all fall into the portal just before the blast - and the shuttle's on-board scanners detected a sudden build-up of Chronometric particles just before the detonation." He turned to the figure beside him, saying, "What do you think?"

"Hmm - It's a mystery, murder, intrigue! Tonight's movie at nine on Channel 5..." mused Wreck-Gar, tugging thoughtfully on the sparkling end of his moustache. Smokescreen looked at the Junkion leader in confusion. Rodimus, on the other hand, smiled wanly; he had long since come to accept the strange way in which his friend talked. Wreck-Gar raised his index finger. "Full coverage every fifteen minutes! Obey the rules of the sequel. And remember," he added, "the truth is out there..."

Rodimus nodded his assent. "Wreck-Gar's right. There needs to be a full investigation into what happened here - and I don't just mean how Unicron's head managed to get from Cybertronian orbit to the surface of Junk without anyone noticing..." As the other two turned to leave, Smokescreen once again looked out over the crater. "I don't know why you're bothering," he said, "Death's Head took care of everything. Cyclonus and Scourge are dead."

Scourge swept silently out of the night sky - silent, that is, except for the strafing blasts of his weapons. The small patrol of Autobots on the ground scattered - but not fast enough. Two of their number disappeared in coruscating balls of flame. The remaining four futilely attempted to return fire, but in his advanced flight mode he could have avoided three times their number without breaking a proverbial sweat.

Scourge made no bones about it - he loved this. In the decade and a half since their arrival in this time, he and Cyclonus had risen swiftly through the ranks of Scorponok's faction of Decepticons, as well as in their new commander's favour. Any who had dared to question the superiority of these comparative newcomers had swiftly found themselves on the receiving end of a sound thrashing - Triggerhappy was still walking with a limp. The local Autobots, lead by Fortress Maximus, were keeping a low profile of late, which left Scourge plenty of time to indulge his favourite hobby - hunting and killing Autobot patrols. Almost gleefully he atomised another Autobot, who had wrongly thought himself to be well concealed. Scourge was snapped out of his reverie by an incoming Comm signal.

Scourge, this is Cyclonus - Get over here, pronto. "Dammit, Cyclonus, how many times have I told you not to disturb me whilst I'm on my downtime?" he spat, once again blitzing the remaining Autobots positions, slicing one of them cleanly into three very dead pieces. Boss's orders - we've got a bunch of Auto-losers raiding the Fiar Energon Depot. Full recall. We're basically the closest. Scourge sighed, and said, "Ok. Gimme half a breem." He opened fire, full force, at the remaining cowering robots. In seconds, all that remained was metal filings. "Scourge to Cyclonus. I'm on my way."

2008...

1508...

"Crosshairs! Turret to your left!" yelled Hot Rod. Crosshairs calmly turned and blasted a hole clean through the Decepticon sniper that the young warrior had spotted. He turned to Hot Rod and gave him thumbs-up.

Hot Rod grinned broadly. Fortress Maximus had warned that the Fiar depot, whilst nowhere near as important to Scorponok's forces as, say, Mangalana, would still be heavily defended. So far, however, it had been an easy ride. They had entered the compound whilst meeting minimal resistance, and now the main energy storage units were in sight. So far, so good. He signalled to the others - time to go to work. Truck and Aquasky approached the main energy drainage port, ready to start 'uploading'. Fineline and Crosshairs took up flanking positions. Hot Rod stood in the middle of the compound, brandishing his weapon. In seconds, Truck already had half the station's energy stored in his cells. This is going like a dream, thought Hot Rod. Then his ears were filled with the roar of jets - Bright light - An explosion - And finally there was darkness...

Hot Rod blinked as his optics came back on line, and was relieved to see the face of Aquasky lying beside him. He wiped away the oil that was gushing down his face, and looked again at his teammate. Then he realised what was missing from the picture - the rest of Aquasky. A scream from somewhere on the other side of the complex forced him to rise onto his elbows. He was stunned and horrified to see a tall, purple Decepticon eviscerating Fineline with his bare hands. He saw another Decepticon that he didn't recognise looking on in amusement. Then he saw what they'd done to Truck...

He screamed in rage and sorrow, and launched himself at these unknown enemies, with an unhealthy mix of pure bloodlust and youthful stupidity. The blue one easily avoided his clumsy charge, tripping him as he did so. As he fell, the Purple one dropped what remained of Fineline, turned smoothly and kicked him hard in the face. Hot Rod hit the ground like dead weight and rolled over onto his back, moaning in pain. "The other one had more sense - he figured you were dead and - ran..." said the goatee'd blue figure. Suddenly the grin dropped from his face, and he stared at the prone figure. "Pretty soon, you're gonna wish you were..." smirked the other, and reached down towards Hot Rod's face.

Suddenly, his partner grabbed his shoulder, pulling him off the defenceless Autobot. "No, you idiot - What do you think you're doing? Don't you recognise him?"

Purple stared long and hard at his intended victim. Slowly, realisation dawned, and a grin of pure malice broke across his face. "Oh, yeah! But I guess he don't know us yet, does he? Ah, frak it," he spat, "let's kill him anyway. Save us a lot of trouble in the long run..." Once again, the blue figure pulled him off, more forcefully this time. Then he slapped him. "Dammit, you moron - you know full well we can't do that! Remember the consequence analysis I did four orns ago? The one I had to explain to you three times? Remember that little phrase - cause and effect? He's one of the ones we can't even touch! Our entire existence, not to mention the whole fabric of reality, would be at risk!"

The purple warrior's face fell, "Ah. Right. That is a problem," he muttered. Then a new, wider grin broke, "On the plus side, he'll have to live with the consequences of today for the rest of his existence, safe in the knowledge that there was nothing he could do to stop us - and that WE chose to let him live..."

"Exactly. One day, young fella," said blue, helping a shocked Hot Rod to his feet, "You'll remember this - and then you'll really understand how much we are truly capable of. Now, the other 'Cons will be here shortly, and they won't be as understanding as we are. So you'd better run along."

Confused, damaged and traumatised, Hot Rod staggered away, through the smashed gates of the complex. He didn't have a clue what that had all been about - but it was certainly a miracle that he was still functioning. He wondered if they were right - that one day he'd really know who they were, and what damage they could really do. Then he realised - he realised that he fervently hoped he never would. Behind him, he heard the chilling sound of laughter, and a shout; "When you get home, say hello to all the Autobots - hello from Cyclonus and Scourge!"

And, 500 years into the future, on another world, Rodimus Prime checked to make sure there was not a living thing in sight, then slipped to his knees and whimpered in the full shocking realisation of what had really happened that day...

ENDS

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