Tyger Pax was a symbolic stronghold. Conquering it had been a turning point in the war, and once we had been able to occupy it, it became an auxiliary base of operations, where we planned our next attacks while away from Darkmount. It can’t be much consolation now, but you were on the verge of incredible intelligence.
I’m not sure what possessed him to start working with me after my victory. He simply didn’t leave the planet like his teammates did, but remained and started to aid in its rebuilding. I suppose he saw the larger goal at hand.
(With a nervous joy in his spark, Bee bounces in a safe space between Megatron’s legs and Bigger Bee’s kicking and protesting. His spellbook stays clamped tight in his arms, ready to help uncover the monster and get rid of this menace once and for all! They were gonna be heroes!)
(But where Megatron’s optics fall on the living, Bee’s attention hones in on the dead. Thick and tumulous clouds diffuse the light of the fire, casting an evil red glow along the corpses strewn over the colony. They lie in agony, mangled and twisted into forms he can’t make sense of. Parts of them seem to disappear from the physical plane and simply appear in ways it should not be. It might have been bearable, even ignorable to a degree, if the other bots hadn’t dropped to their knees to weep or try to gather up their loved ones while their offlined optics wrenched and mouths gaped to the hazy sky above.)
(There’s a shifting in the ground, a literal one. Out ahead of them, deep in the ichor pool, the ruins of buildings not only start to shatter, but roll. They casually dip to the sides as if they were floating on water, but remain there, wrought out of place. That must be it!)
(Bee wails the spell and chucks it at the space between.)
Margi!
(Its colors swirl in an unholy violet.)
Megatron was accustomed to chaos. The panic of civilians, anguished cries for the dead, twisted husks littering the ground were nothing new. That he was so unbothered by the setting disturbed him more than the vile horror that appeared before them. It did however rank fairly high.
A hellish monster that needed defeating. Megatron fell into his instincts, analyzing the beast as his blaster warmed again. Every part of them that touched the oozing ichor rusted. This creature was full of the bile, so melee combat was unwise. The spell was meant to banish it back to some other realm, but as he watched, the amalgam seemed to take offence to the fact that it was no longer invisible.
All of its mouths opened in concert, along with every loose bit of plating and space between the viscera that spilled from its center, to let loose a deafening cry. One of its limb-like structures detached itself from the ground in a series of sticky snaps. The piece waved over them before slamming into the ground mere feet from where the group stood. Megatron leapt into the air and transformed, flying around the horror in a wide arch. Eyes followed him wherever he went, more limbs beginning to sprout from every surface. ::It’s preparing to attack! Take cover and-::
A point of color got his attention. A grounder, still alive, trapped in his alt-mode beneath a section of the building just beside the monster. Megatron swore internally, firing his cannon into the beast with as much power as he was able with every pass. The holes it made soon filled with more organic gunk as it healed, but the screech it made at least sounded angry.
(Bee only barely registered being pulled from his form in the wall. He found his sense of up and down via Megatron’s hands, and while he sighed with relief looking down at his clean hands, he choked on his own breath when the rust came back even worse than before. He stared in horror-)
(Until a blasters and a fusion canon start going off.) Guys- GUYS WHAT ARE YOU DOING STOP-
(The noise is enough to almost literally clear the smoke from the room. The bigger Bumblebee’s voice brings him into the here and now, and as he listens and follows optics to the Necronomicon, he scoops it up and reads it. He didn’t understand the spells, true, but he could at least pronounce them, and at “the invisible must be found by touch”, he gasps in delight!)
I can find it! I can un-invisible it! I can do that part- we can do this! We’re gonna get rid of this thing and save the whole damn planet!!!
/Smokescreen’s continuing to hold Bigbee, both because he’s still recovering from the last scare and because he’s still worried about Bee./
You read that book, and it- it must’ve fragged with you, somehow. You wouldn’t pick up, and we were worried- I’m glad you’re okay.
/He watches as Megatron and Bee’s rust spreads- frag, is that gonna happen to all of them?/
Awesome! We just gotta go to Tyger Pax, then, and touch the thing? And then we can get rid of it and save Cybertron! … But won’t that make you two rust even more?
He flinches as the fusion cannon sounds (there’s no Omega Lock here, no Star Saber, he’s ok, nothing will happen) and presses a bit more into Smokey’s hold. “A book’s no excuse to hold a friend at point-blank,” he mutters, but shakes off the experience easily enough. There’s time for apologies later, something bigger than him is happening. So he does what he does best and ignores the guilt and fear.
Until Tyger Pax is mentioned.
“You don’t need ME for that, right?” he asks, gently slipping out of Smokescreen’s grasp and offering a servo to the mech. “Sounds like you all know what to do and right now, it seems like there’s two things I can’t be near: that datapad and Tyger Pax. So why the frag do you want me to go? I could get possessed again or start shooting at Megatron. I mean, I’m not the only one who thinks it’s a bad idea, right? I want to help, but I’ll do it away from that Pit-forsaken city.”
With a toothy grin, Megatron lays a servo on the minibot’s back. They would see this thing through to the end. “Precisely, so long as you do not need to be in contact for that spell.” He straightened back up again, his face resetting again into his usual stoic glare at Smokescreen’s question. Their affliction could indeed get worse before it got better.
“Rust or no, these incantations are not only to banish the creature, but to heal whatever it has caused. All of us need to be present to be returned to our original states.” This he directed at Bumblbee, who was backing slowly away from them all. He had not forgotten the significance Tyger Pax held for both of them, how could he? But ages had passed, they were no longer enemies, and Megatron would be damned before he would let the scout come to further harm.
That included leaving him here to decay. Without another word, Megatron closed the gap between them and took Bumblebee by the shoulder.
::Open a ground bridge to Tyger Pax.::
::I-I can’t, sir… All signals around ground zero have gone dead, we’re… we’re only reading signs of life on the outskirts of the colony, everyone else-::
::Then get me as close as your instruments will allow!::
::…Yes, Lord Megatron.::
The bridge roared to life and he ignored the scouts protests, dragging him through the portal no matter the kicks and punches that scraped his armor. It wasn’t until they were completely through that Megatron let go, as the scene before him required all senses to take in.
The air was thick with that same sickening stench that bogged down the dormitory, but in the open air it seemed inescapable. The clouds were lit from below from a fire that had broken out somewhere in the distance, and all around them neutrals fled as cars, as jets, even some on foot, trying frantically to find others and get away from whatever was causing this. Megatron urged his band forward through the survivors, stopping just before a vile puddle of freshly expelled ichor.
But we’ve gotta find the stuff that fixes everything! (Bee fast-scrolls through the pages, the otherworldly geometries of its glyphs immediately pinching his vision into something like a headache.) Maybe we can cross reference it with Smokescreen’s book- OH! Wait, I have my own magic! Here watch!
(Bee puts the Necronomicon on the floor and reaches for his own little book of magic, and a spell.)
Look, see? “Simplify instructions”! All we need to do is- Kendall!
(The spell hovers above the Necronomicon as if its mired in the tome’s foul energies… before bouncing back and striking Bumblebee with a blow hard enough to send him careening into the wall behind him, all of the rust blown off of his casting arm and scattering into the air. The Necronomicon is not unaffected, though: the screen scrolls to the deep enchantments and ritual words concerning the terror, and how its vile forces might be driven back to its dark planes.)
/Smokescreen doesn’t dare to move from his spot, keeping a tight hold on Bee, both to keep him from moving and out of fear of losing the bot./
Bee- no! Put that blaster down before you get hurt. You can have the book- uh. Never, but pretend you can have the book later. I’ll read something better with you later.
/A relieved sigh as Tinybee pulls out another spellbook- easy way out! Then grimaces as the book hits Tinybee right in the face./
You okay, Tinybee? What page did it just go to?
The growling and thrashing continues, words turning into animalistic snarls as his smaller alternate casts the spell. A shot pierces the air, sent careening into the ceiling of the habsuite. Thankfully, the blaster’s on a low setting due to lack of energon. He attempts to aim again, this time focused on Megatron, when the other Bumblebee hits the wall.
It’s as if a spell has been cast on Bee as well. Another thump and Bee slumps in Smokescreen’s grasp, optics flickering before holding steady, still dim. The first thing he notices is that he can’t move. The second is the strange scene in front of him: an old datapad, a book, and three mechs in his suite. And a massive processor ache. And the worst smell in the universe.
“Ow,” he mumbles, raising his helm to stare at Smokescreen. “What happened? It feels like I went a round with Predaking, faulty memory included. Oh, and why the frag is Megatron here?”
“No!” The Necronomicon is forgotten as Bumblebee is slammed into the wall hard enough to leave behind a cloud of rust. Megatron rushes to the wall, kneeling down to check the minibot’s frame for cracks and dents. The book’s resistance to other forms of magic was clear, and he left Bee’s side to see what other resistances it could have. With a growl and a twinge of pain in his chest, he fires several fusion blasts at the damned thing.
Of course, when the smoke clears, it has not a new scratch on it. Only now did he see that Bee’s spell had indeed effected it, that it was open to a different page… Against his own warning, he began to read it. The page was full of several incantations, for removing the ichor stains, for releasing the abomination’s hold over mechs, (these two were glowing, the light gently fading back to the dull font of the other spells) and for weakening and banishing the creature back to its terrible plane of existence. The spells themselves were unintelligible nonsense words, but the instructions were clearer: the first two spells would not work properly if the creature was still present, and the last had to be spoken in close proximity to it. Megatron glared at the footnote, which read “the invisible must unfortunately be found by touch”.
As he read, the rust stains on his chest and pedes spread.
“We need to take this to Tyger..” The larger Bumblebee was glaring at him now from Smokescreen’s grasp, the wild look in his optics gone. “Back to your senses, I see. Smokescreen, bring him. We must go to Tyger Pax and recite this entire sequence to remove everything.”
(Bee’s vision is filled with legs until they skid to a dead stop in Bumblebee’s room. The reek hits him hard enough to make him cover his vents and make him wail in disgust. His optics scan, catching Megatron’s line of sight and following it to Bumblebee’s rust patches and fevered gibberings.) Oh no they got him too!
– what?! He looks like this and you’re gonna politely ask for it?! Smokey, grab Big Bee!!!
(Energy shoots through his struts at a wall-shaking thunderclap against Metroplex’s exterior. Bee bolts forward and grabs the book, pulling it out of Bee’s hands with a hard yank- or at least attempting to.)
/Smokescreen doesn’t need to be told twice, he’s running over to Bee as soon as he sees him, trying to hold him. He’s rusting, and it smells so bad… Smokescreen’s holding Bee tight, fearing the worst./
Bee- Bee, what happened? Who did this to you? I’m sorry- everything will be okay, you don’t gotta worry about anything.
/A look back up at the smaller Bee and Megatron, biolights brightening up in worry./
What’s happening? Is he gonna be okay? Is this what that monster did? Did it multiply? What is Bee talking about?
Megatron is all but ignored, a slight twitch of the right doorwing the only indication that some part of Bumblebee registered the request. Bee shifts so Megatron can’t see the screen. He doesn’t notice the other two until his alternate grabs the datapad – his datapad – and Smokescreen tackles him.
The mumbling stops, Bumblebee going eerily quiet and still. Slowly, he raises his helm and locks optics with the other Bee. A sneer overtakes his features and he thrashes. Under normal circumstances and a clear processor, Bumblebee could find a way to shake Smokescreen off. But low on energon and working with a clouded processor, he stays put. However, Bumblebee’s tenacity is a force to be reckoned with. Wrenching an arm free, he wastes no time transforming a cannon and aiming it at Bee’s helm.
“Give it back!” he snarls, voice laced with static from the lowered pitch. “Hand it over or I shoot. The planet needs to be cleansed of us, don’t you understand?! I don’t care who I have to kill, give. It. Back.”
“Bumblebee-!” But there was no stopping the minibot. Getting the book away from Bee was imperative, but if he was going to be violent towards anyone, Megatron would prefer that it be him. At least Smokescreen had him restrained. Was he really so weakened?
The blaster whirring to life activated battle protocols that he dialed back. Both of them needn’t come to anymore harm. Megatron kicked at Bee’s arm to knock it up and away from his alternate, stepping between them.
“You will not be killing anyone! And you will not be laying a hand on that book again. That thing is poisoning your mind, and it and all things having to do with it will be purged from my planet, and when you’ve come to your senses you will be grateful! Be still!” He turned back towards the smaller Bumblebee.
“Do not read anything out of there. Look at what it’s done to him.”
(Stepping into the Metroplex makes Bee’s teeth itch; the combination of the EM field, the dark, and the tense energy of the moment is enough to make him feel sick with anxiety. Megatron bolts and commands, and Bee falls immediately into step behind him.)
/Smokescreen starts to bolt through with everyone, running almost exactly when Megatron says, barely noticing the metrotitan’s EM field while in panic mode. He’s focused on looking for any signs of yellow./
I’m sorry, Bee, I shouldn’t have sent you, please please be okay.
The lights continue to flash, guiding the team farther along the residential stretch. A door to a lift opens for them, allowing entrance to the top of the eastern spire. Bumblebee’s habsuite is among the best guarded and hidden within the metrotitan’s walls.
The bot in question doesn’t even notice when the door opens or who comes through the other side. His digits continue drumming against the datapad, optics unfocused and dim – just like the rest of his biolights. The habsuite still looks well-maintained, but a few cabinets housing energon cubes remain open, an unsuccessful attempt to coax Bee out of his trance. The closer they get, the more they can hear the nonsense pouring out of Bee’s intake.
“–and they will fall to the rot. The Creator and the Unmaker will perish and be lost to the universe. A violent race comes to a violent end and the stars will not grieve. It means something, I’m missing it. Don’t send me away. I’m sorry, I’ll change. I’ll change as much as you need me to. But it doesn’t matter, you can’t run from this. Run…”
The lights that lead them deeper and deeper into Metroplex keep flashing with urgency, and he steps into the lift without hesitation. When he was running through the Nemesis, trying shut down a possessed Trypticon, he’d been fighting the environment at every turn. Metroplex opens doors for him with urgency, taking them exactly where they needed to go. Concern permeates the air like a rank odor. The titan needs them.
The final door opens and Megatron realizes that there is in fact a real odor permeating the air. Bumblebee’s suite stinks of the same decay as the slimy ichor that covered the dormitory. Those rust marks, the chanting…
Megatron walks inside, standing over Bee and cringes to see the book in his grasp. The dread in his spark intensifies. “Bumblebee. Give that here.”
(Bee’s immediately flushed with guilt. He promised Smokescreen, but Megatron looked so hurt and there was no way to make them both happy here-)
(He gives Smokescreen another kick, more frustrated than angry, and pushes the book back into his hands.) Here! Was that so hard? You can put me down now.
/Frag- now he’s feeling guilty, though he’s holding the book close, almost hugging it./
Look- it’s something from Alpha Trion, it probably would have a reaction to Megatron, like it might shut itself off or-
::Bee? Bee- Bee, are you okay? Have you had any luck finding the book? We’re heading over there, come meet with us.::
He’s not in his usual spot, hunched over and sitting against the wall closest to the door. One servo is rusted over, joints creaking every time he taps the datapad’s screen. Another patch rests on his shoulder, covering the top of his pauldron. Even with all the defects of his frame, those areas stand out the most.
Without thinking, he ignores the comm. There’s more important work to be done. Like figure out the report on the datapad. Prepare for battle in Praxus. Siphon from the frames strewn across a battlefield…
The memories blur together the longer he holds the datapad. But he doesn’t recognize this because there’s work. He has to work. So alone he sits, ignoring Smokescreen. Ignoring Metroplex, who continues to scream at him. To save him. But Bumblebee doesn’t know he has to be saved.
The bridge spills them out at Metroplex’s center, a sparse few mechs wandering about. Bumblebee, the other one, isn’t answering any of them. They may already be too late.
Being inside the cityformer always took some getting used to, the subtle EM field constantly surrounding you. Today however, it was particularly dissonant; the entire area felt distressed. It was as if the metrotitan was in pain, accented by the flickering of the lights to a dimmer setting. The only bright light that remained was at the end of a hallway, and it flashed as he watched it. He broke off in a run.
They’re all starting to notice. It’s only a matter of time before a curious neutral strays too close…
::A contagion is spreading from Tyger Pax, released by some sort of cult that took up residence there a month prior. A secretion of some kind that decays and rusts and… contorts what it touches.::
As if Tyger Pax couldn’t get any worse. The only thing that keeps Bee from sighing is his processor beginning to put some pieces together.
:: Secretion…like, goo that rusts plating and smells disgusting? Or are we talking actual Terrorcons and other undead creatures? ::
::Precisely. The stench is unforgettable.. Not terrorcons. I would be able to tell if there were.:: There had been no dark energon pull in his spark from these events, only a deep-seated sense of foreboding.
::I am unsure if the mechs we encountered there were sparkless, but I sincerely hope that they were.::
Megatron's back up 