⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Iron Bond ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Chapter 2
The Forbidden Lands. No one dared speak of that place, haunted by the many corpses buried beneath the rubble of an old Decepticon base. Once a thriving city, now nothing more than heaps of rusted metal. Situated between Kaon and Iacon, it served as a seldom-used border crossing—ruined and unstable, ready to collapse on the unwary.
Yet here is where Commander Starscream’s signal vanished. Lieutenant DemonKill and her Fourth Squadron were tasked to search the area. For over a “groon” (a time measure), they scoured the zone for signs—or bodies. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing—just the utterly ruined skeletons of buildings and a shrill whining in the wind. With her optics locked onto her high-tech gear, DemonKill turned to her squad, who struggled to keep pace as she climbed a treacherous slope.
“Boss… are you sure it’s this way? Aren’t we kind of... lost?” Monzo panted, clearly out of stamina—his bolts perhaps a bit rusty.
“We’re almost there. Stay strong, soldiers,” she replied flatly, raising a fist in encouragement. The sooner she completed this mission, the sooner she could send a comprehensive report to Lord Megatron. Starscream was dead. The thought curled a slow smile across her face as she moved ahead, creating distance from her team.
Lost in thought, she suddenly stepped on a shaky metal plate at the summit. Alert, she peered down and tapped the plate repeatedly with her pede, recognizing by the hollow sound beneath it that it covered a cavity. Frowning, she knelt, pried the plate up, and tossed it aside, revealing a dark, bottomless hole. No light penetrated it—no sound either.
Leaning forward, she teetered—and then something grabbed her, pulling her inside. None of her squad saw what happened.
“Jet! Watch it! You’re gonna stain my fresh paint...” WindSweeper grumbled, brushing dust off his chassis. Nearby, JetFire’s optics swiveled as he resumed sweeping the ground—something shining had caught his attention earlier.
He cleared the dusty surface with his hands, uncovering a glowing green emblem he recognized all too well. Everyone knew its significance. Neither Autobot nor Decepticon—the symbol meant these lands were claimed. JetFire sprang upright, his optics wide with dread as he whispered something unintelligible, looking at his comrades just climbing the hilltop.
“Hmm, where’d she go?” WindSweeper wondered, punching a fist into his hip and sweeping his yellow optics over the area for the lieutenant.
“She was right here, not even a few clicks away!” Monzo exclaimed, baffled. Throttle nudged past him, elbowing his leg—gesturing that he’d better move.
Perplexed, the large mecha shifted—and discovered a rectangular hole beneath his pede. Below, JetFire waved desperately, shouting—though his voice was too distant to be heard.
“What the hec—” WindSweeper couldn’t finish as he realized he was alone at the hill’s crest. His spark fluttered as a shadow behind him froze him in place.
“No!” JetFire finally reached him, stretching out his hand—but WindSweeper was also being dragged into the abyss, his terrified scream echoing endlessly in the pit.
Bent forward, the white-and-red seeker backed away. Should he seek help? He placed two fingers at his audio to call base—but when he opened his mouth, it was too late. The same force sucked him in. Silence reclaimed the forgotten ruins, the hole closing as if nothing had happened.
Darkness had claimed them.
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IACON, AUTOBOT BASE
“Optimus, we have a problem.”
One of his trusted Autobots spoke, pulling the red-and-blue leader from his thoughts. The meeting room fell silent as the smaller mech hurried in to deliver his report. Every soldier turned their optics to him expectantly—something urgent had interrupted this gathering.
“We’re listening, FastBack,” Optimus said from the head of the long table.
“Well… sir, we received information. Megatron has returned,” he announced solemnly, eliciting startled murmurs from the council members.
“Stop acting surprised. We knew he’d return eventually,” Atomizer snapped—a red-and-yellow mech whose visor and mask concealed his face. Whispering surged, but Prime silenced them with a gesture.
“Continue,” he said, placing his datapad on the table, eyes locked on the mech with more to say.
“With a research team, we pinpointed where Megatron spent all that time—south of Kaon, in a remote area,” he continued hastily, not wanting to waste their leader’s time.
“Great, so he was on a shopping spree? Doesn’t matter where—what matters is knowing he’s back in Kaon, likely planning to hit our last energon reserve,” Atomizer slammed his fist down, scattering datapads in front of him.
“Calm down, friend. It could be important,” DoubleTape soothed—a cyan-armored mech seated opposite him.
“He’s right, Prime. We need to know what Megatron was doing so far away before planning his strike,” IronHide added—an esteemed veteran mech everyone respected. Silent, Optimus shifted his gaze to SilverBolt, commander of the Aerialbots, who hadn’t spoken yet.
“We could fly over the area to see what’s happening there,” he suggested with a shrug, feeling the Prime’s watchful optics.
“Good. We need to find out what Megatron is intending. FastBack, where exactly was he last seen?” Optimus asked, scanning the assembled mechs before turning back to the messenger.
“In the ruins of Base 12 on Trypican, sir,” he admitted, voice trembling, knowing that place was taboo after the Autobot’s disastrous failure to protect it.
A heavy silence settled, shadows darkening every face. No one wanted to speak—especially after what happened to the thousands of civilians stationed there before its destruction. Optimus rose from his chair, expression neutral.
“This meeting is over. You are dismissed.” He waited until all mechs exited, except one.
“FastBack, I’d like you to join the research team,” he said. When the mech heard his name, he turned with surprise.
“Yes, sir,” he said with a relieved smile before leaving once sure he was no longer needed.
Alone now, Optimus gazed at a point beyond sight—terrible memories resurfacing. What was his worst enemy plotting in that place? It was nothing more than ruins among many—a city wiped off the map by Decepticon rebellion. There was nothing left but corpses and screams imprisoned in an endless loop. Tormented by the news, Optimus Prime stared at the datapad showing images of Trypican.
His spark trembled in agony at the memory of his failure.
A few groons later, an Autobot warrior team had been assembled for reconnaissance. SilverBolt’s report hadn’t helped much—amid the rubble, they couldn’t tell what Megatron sought. So Optimus formed a team to accompany him into those ruins heavy with history, hunting for traces of Megatron’s presence.
A trap? The Autobots wouldn’t be surprised.
But since Megatron’s trace had been so elusive, they hoped this time they’d be ahead. A few clicks later, the team of five arrived at the coordinates FastBack had led them to—just before Base 12’s ruins. They halted and transformed into robot modes; the ground was too damaged to drive. Optimus followed suit and stood, surveying the silent, grim landscape.
“This place gives me chills…” Switch commented, arms crossed—he wore light armor and carried two swords at his hips.
“This place… it hums with negative energy,” DoubleTap added from behind, his broad shoulders forming a shadow over Switch.
“Let’s not linger. My toxin sensor says there are still residues in the air,” said the team’s medic—eyes fixed on his forearm screen. Ratchet moved to Optimus’s side to share one of his unsettling observations.
“Optimus, something’s off,” began his longtime friend, optics narrowed toward a gaping crater ahead—one created by a deadly bomb dropped by Decepticons. Prime glanced at the smaller white-and-red mech, noticing his normally calm expression now filled with terror.
“The bodies... where are the bodies?” Ratchet stammered, looking around.
Frozen, the Autobots scanned frantically for the corpses—nothing. Only rubble and a heavy silence.
“Why would Megatron bother retrieving thousands of bodies? It makes no sense!” FastBack muttered, fingertip on chin in thought.
“I have a feeling we’ll know soon enough,” DoubleTap growled, activating shoulder cannons after seeing motion behind Optimus.
“We are not alone,” he added, optics narrowing at a shape slithering among the broken walls.
“Autobots, stay alert,” Optimus commanded, masking his face and raising his forearm cannon.
At that moment, shots rang out to their left. Sharing confused looks, FastBack climbed onto a half-collapsed pillar to gain vantage. Behind him, DoubleTap continued focusing on the distant shape.
“I can't believe it…” muttered the red-and-white mech, meeting Prime’s optics.
“Decepticons!” he said, pointing in the opposite direction.
“I knew it... it was a trap!” Switch hissed, unsheathing his blades.
“Wait—i think they’re not shooting at us. They appear to be targeting something else…” the perched mech whispered, optics narrowed. Impatient, Switch climbed the pillar to see the scene below firsthand.
“Am I hallucinating, or is that a civilian fighting them?” he said in shock.
“Let’s get a closer look,” Optimus ordered without hesitation. If an Autobot’s life was at risk, he couldn’t stand by. Descending into the crater, Prime narrowed his optics as he began to hear the distant clash—blade sounds and anguished moans. Behind him, the other four advanced cautiously, questions swirling through their CPU.
Reaching the next level down, Prime stepped forward enough to see clearly.
There was indeed a civilian fighting four Vehicons. No armor—just a protoform drenched in energon and injuries. Optimus froze, his Autobots following as horror filled their optics. The small mech held a sharpened iron bar like a sword. One Vehicon lay dead in an energon puddle. White optics blazing with fury, the mech advanced on another, dragging the blade along the ground—a screeching grind that forced the closer enemy to cover its audios.
Seizing the moment, the civilian jumped onto the Vehicon’s shoulders, then leapt to another, impaling him in the head. Without pause, he decapitated the third with fluid precision. The last turned, firing shots indiscriminately. Blaster bolts tore through his fragile form without slowing his advance—his face smeared with energy.
“Monster… assassin…” he hissed in a distorted, grave voice, advancing unflinchingly.
Before the Autobots could intervene, he leapt again—this time tearing off a Vehicon’s helmet and slicing beneath his throat, detaching the head in one brutal strike. Frozen by the disorienting scene, the Autobots made no sound. FastBack raised a hand to his face to hold back nausea and turned his optics away.
Exhausted and spent, the little mech turned his head toward them. Energonic tears streamed down his dirtied cheeks.
Optimus would never forget that gaze. Filled with rage, pain, and disappointment. They exchanged it for a fleeting moment—then the civilian’s now-blue optics darkened, and he collapsed onto his knees, raising a dust cloud.
Ratchet rushed to his side without a word, scanning his vitals and launching emergency repairs to stem the energon hemorrhage from his damaged frame. Optimus joined his old friend, concern etched on his face as he surveyed the unrecognizable figure lying on his back, energon seeping into a spreading pool.
“Is he… dead?” asked FastBack, approaching the crater’s center.
“He’s in emergency stasis—but unless I close his wounds, he won’t last much longer,” Ratchet replied, not looking up from his meticulous work.
Keeping watch at the edge, DoubleTap narrowed his optics toward another floor in the ruins. He sensed movement—they were being watched. Moments later, something brushed his pede, forcing him to look down. His spark thudded as a thick black cable slithered toward the corpse of a freshly slain Vehicon.
The cable wrapped around the inert frame and dragged it backward—into the darkness.
A noise drew DoubleTap’s attention across the way. Another cable seized another body, then another. He didn’t need to speak—the others had noticed too.
“What is that?” Switch wondered, touching one of the cables with his blade. It twitched on contact, then yanked violently, leaving an energon trail disappearing beneath a twisted plate.
Optimus narrowed his blue optics at the eerie vanishings. Then another cable coiled around his massive pede—heading straight for the wounded civilian in stasis. With shocking speed, it grabbed him, pulling him toward its lair and away from Ratchet’s rescue attempts. With a swift slash, Optimus cut it—but without sound, the severed piece writhed and leaked a luminous green liquid.
“That… is that what I think it is?” DoubleTap asked, crouching beside the severed length—its other half vanished into darkness.
“I’ll take samples. Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Ratchet insisted, after finishing emergency care. He carefully extracted a drop of the strange fluid into a vial, his voice betraying his unease.
“But… if it’s green energon? It could save us! The war would end—why fight anymore? If these things operate on synthetic energon, then–” FastBack was cut off as Optimus raised a hand to silence him.
“Green energon has never offered a lasting solution. It harms our systems, and its dubious origins could backfire on us,” Optimus explained gravely. He wasn’t willing to experiment—it was like making a pact with Unicron.
“No…” Ratchet whispered, staring at the vial in his hand and drawing all eyes to him.
“I believe… Megatron intends to use it. He doesn’t care about side effects. Then energon will have no value in his eyes,” Ratchet added, optics wide.
“So Megatron plans to destroy our remaining energon sources to deprive us,” Optimus concluded, clenching his fists.
“He means to starve us! That’s how he wants to win the war?!” Switch railed, slashing the air with his swords in fury.
“Let’s return to base,” Optimus urged—the urgency clear in his tone as he turned to Ratchet.
Immediately, the medic ordered Switch to calm down and evacuate the injured civilian. He needed intensive care—fast. But suddenly… the sky tore open with a violent flash and the ground trembled. Something heavy had just landed before them—blocking their path.
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To be continued…
