TFARCHIVE FORUMS

In the blackness of space, away from the Hub and Cybertron proper, a massive world-ship flew.

It was New Quintessa. Two times as large as the previous planetoid vehicle, it was a masterpiece of Quintesson technology.

A myriad of techno-organic lakes teamed with Sharkticons and Alligatorcons, with various species to prey on.

Inside a massive Courtroom, the various Quintesson Magistrates, Scientists, Jailers, Warriors and others were assembled, numbering in the hundreds througout the galaxy. At the apex of the central meeting area, a raised platform loomed over the other Magistrates. On it sat the Imperial Magistrate. Below him, as always, hovered the Chief Inquisitor, at ground level with the other lesser Quintessons.

"This Session shall come to order," the Inquisitor (also known as the Bailif) waved his tentacles for emphasis. Silence ensued. The Inquistor turned to the Imperial Magisrate. Many sets of faces looked upward at the Death's Head face of their Master.

"It has come to my attention that Unicron stirs again."

Chaos ensued. All the Quintessons began thrashing madly, faces chattering. The Bailiff raised his tentacles again, and quiet was restored.

"I have already dispatched a brigade of Sharkticons under the command of a Magistrate to quarantine Primacron's planet lab...and of course he denies the charge that he has rebuilt his creation..."

"Will he be executed?" A Magistrate called out.

"No, Judge Delibarata. He shall not. We may use his technological expertise...in fact, his laborotory is being destroyed at this moment, and he is being brought here to New Quintessa."

The Judge, embittered after his dealings with Galvatron, nodded and remained silent.

"But that is not the main cause of this session, my Brethren. Our Prototype, the Liege Maximo, has been awakened, and is at work raillying a force of our creations to anihilate life in the Universe..."

"They must be stopped!" Another Magistrate called out.

"Of course, Judge Inquirata. Do you not think I have forseen such a circumstance?"

The other Quintessons jeered the Judge.

"The Autobots and Decepticons...have allied to destroy this new force, though they move slowly...in any event, we shall watch, and observe for now. None of the Transformers are aware of our New Homeworld's location...not even the Liege...their 'god'."

Laughter shook the Courtroom as the Quintessons responded.

"The Transformers will succeed in destroying the Liege's forces...and after Unicron and the other renegade forces are defeated, we shall further investigate our creations rebellion...and then we will dispense Justice upon the entire Transformer race. And we shall rule from Cybertron once more. For all time."

The Inquisitor raised both sets of tentacles in a salute, and called out:

"This Session has ended. Long live the Imperial Magistrate!"

Booming choruses of "Long live the Imperial Magistrate rattled the Courtroom as the Imperial Magistrate, Inquisitor, and various other Quintessons filed out of the Courtroom.

(OOC: I control the Quintessons, so if any Moderator has a problem with this development, let me know.)

A Quintesson Spaceship docked in New Quintessa's main hangar. An honor guard of Sharkticons, carrying reams of datadisks, tapes, and paper printouts entered a main storage room.

A Quintesson Magistrate glided down the pathway, and walking with him stood a short, simian-like scientist. Primacron.

"I must protest this disturbance!" Primacron huffed.

"You will protest nothing- this is for your own good, Scientist," the Magistrate chuckled.

"How do you possibly come to that conclusion?"

"Because, Primacron- the Transformers will never allow you to have scientific control or freedom again, not after the construction of Tornitron..."

"How were you aware of that!" Primacron shrieked.

"My Master, the Imperial Magistrate, is aware of a great many things," the Magistrate replied. By now they had entered the storage facility.

Primacron bustled about, ordering the Sharkticons to place the scientific materials carefully into storage bins.

"Your new laboratory shall be constructed here..." The Magistrate offered. Primacron turned.

"What?"

"You heard correctly, Scientist. The Imperial Magistrate has allowed you to return to your scientific experiments...under the aegis of Quintesson interests."

"I don't concern myself with brokering arms trading!" Primacron puffed out his chest, the display merely a formality. The Magistrate picked up on this instantly.

"No, of course not. If new weapons designs are called for...you will of course, help our main scientists produce them. But, we Quintessons want you to work on a new weapon...not another sentient lifeform, but rather an upgrade to a previous weapon we had attempted to use before against our renegade creations."

"I will gladly assist you in this endevour," Primacron nodded. "Those wretched Transformers destroyed my wonderous creations Unicron and Tornitron...and destroyed my lab! Yes, I shall begin reviewing your schematics at once, after I set up here..." Primacron turned about, and began unpacking equipment.

The Magistrate merely chuckled slightly, before leaving the room, as a pair of Alligatorcons came in to assist- and keep Primacron in the lab, should he try to flee.

Primacron, now enmeshed between incredible machines in a glistening, buzzing (completely functional laboratory), built with the feverish intesity the scientist was known for, quickly scampered for the door. The Chief Inquisitor was waiting for him.

"I have completed the adjustments on the weapon." Primacron bowed slightly.

"You do not disapoint, Primarcon." The Inquisitor chuckled. He glided, and Primacron walked briskly down the hall, into the main Courtroom, where a massive wall of viewtrex and monitor screens displayed the awesome battle broadcast thanks to remote satellites, of the various Transformers.

The Quintesson Magistrates of the lesser order and rank clustered below the lower screens. The Inquisitor led Primacron up the steps, past the central atrium which generally served as the Imperial Magistrate's Chambers. Inside a very select few, including the Imperial Magistrate, the head arms dealer Quintessons, the remaining scientists (among them, the creators of the Techno-Organics) and now, the Inquisitor and Primacron.

"The battle is joined," the Imperial Magistrate hissed.

"Yes, my Master," the Inquisitor moved to the Magistrate's side, tentacles waving.

Primacron moved to the front of one of the large monitors in the inset chamber. A familiar planetoid stood still a bit removed from the chaos.

"Unicron..." the scientist breathed. "My finest creation, retooled by those primitives. A travesty, yet...an affirmation."

"Indeed," the Magistrate turned his Death's head to look Primacron. "The weapon is completed." A statement, not a question. Primacron, nodded, once, then turned to the leader of the Quintessons.

"Yes, Magistrate. It needs only be directed in the general vicinity of the combat zone, fired, and will immobilize the combatants. I've calculated the vector ratios myself. The possibility for error is minute."

"And the Earthbound renegades?" The Inquisitor asked.

"The shockwaves will ripple out. None will be spared. It will be just like the gambit you all attempted earlier...except a higher probability of success."

The Magistrate turned back to the monitor.

"Excellent. But for now...we shall watch the slaughter. Once a victor is revealed, fire the Immobolizer Beam."

Primacron nodded, then retreated back to his laboratory. The Inquisitor glided back in place next to the Magistrate, and conversation ceased as the sounds of battle filled the room.

Primacron finished the exact minute adjustments to the Immobilizer Beam, though the Sharkticons and Alligatorcons simply called it, "Shut Down".

Indeed, the massive cannon did seem to have a personification of its very own. It was superb, standing several hundred feet high, a length tall enough to blast its immobilizing rays out in the entire Universe with one target: the Transformers.

Due to the Quintessons innate mastery of mechanics, techonolgy and order, the beam would isolate each Transformer's CPU and shut it down-whether the Transformer wanted to it to happen or not. It was the technological equivalent of a massive heart attack.

At the time the beam would impact, the Transformer's CPU would shut down, so fast that the internal circuitry and wiring would be fused. Any efforts at recessitation would prove futile.

Primacron peered into the targeting scope. Cybertron, and to a lesser vector, Earth, lay dead in its sights.

"I will enjoy shutting down the whole lot of those metallic bastard children of the Quintessons. Then they, and I, will rule the Universe." The simian-like scientist moved to press the button.

A transmission squawked.

"Primacron! Cease!" It was the voice of the Imperial Magistrate.

"Why, Magistrate? The destruction of the Transformers is at hand!"

"You shall wait until Unicron is destroyed."

"This was not part of the arrangement!"

"Unicron was not our creation- he was yours. And since we had no part in his making, the efforts of the beam would be null...and void. Once the Transformers destroy Unicron, you shall fire."

"If the beam fails?" Primacron postulated. He could not be 100% certain the beam would work. Highest probability calcuated was in upwards of 98.8%. Some margin of error.

"I have dispatched our finest legions of Sharkticons and Alligatorcons under the command of Judges Delibarata and Inquarata. Their fleet of ships is waiting just outside outside the boundaries approaching the solar system where Cybertron is located."

"What is your plan?" The scientist gasped. The Quintessons must have been producing for years...the sheer size of the Armada and Armies might swarm the Transformers, but then again it might not.

"The invasion of Cybertron. Those Transformers that are not destroyed, we shall lobotomize and bring back to New Quintessa."

"If Unicron destroys the Transformers?"

"Judges Delibarata and Inquarata will simply turn their ships around and return, at a predetermined point in the galaxy. Unicron will never be able to find us...and New Quintessa is mobile, so we shall meet up with the Armada, and once again build another Empire."

"Of course. The Universe is continually expanding. Unicron will never be able to destroy it all...brilliance!" Primacron cackled, clasping his hands. "I wait for your command, Magistrate."

"Indeed." A dry note of humor had crept into the normally stoic Imperial Magistrate's vocoder. The feed clicked off, and the lab returned to its normal beeps and whirrs.

Primarcon returned to the beam, peered through the scope, and surrounded by Sharkticon and Alligatorcon assistants (who aped looking at other viewports) waited.

(Per a PM I've received from the Moderators, the Immobilizer Beam is nixed. I'm still keeping the Quints out in the open as a potentital threat, if this present Arc is going to be continued after the battle between the Transformers and Renegades.)

Primacron was keyed up. The scientist had traingulated the exact vector which would penetrate Cybertron's core.

The Inquisitor glided into the lab, tentacles lashing languidly.

"Primacron," the Bailiff called. The scientist turned, and looked at the Inquisitor.

"What is it? I've triangulated the perfect vector-"

"The Beam will not be fired. The Magistrate has decreed it."

"But why? After dragging me off of my wonderful planetoid, you dangle the prospect of ultimate revenge against those bastardizations of technology! And now you deny me! Have I failed you in any way? Is it because I'm not techno-organic do you scorn me now, Quintesson?" Primacron bunched his fists, and stamped his feet, tears welling in his smiain-like eyes.

For a moment, the most brilliant scientist in the galaxy seemed like a child.

The Inquisitor's red optics viewed Primacron with a modicum of sympathy (but not quite compassion) a rare moment indeed.

"The Imperial Magistrate has reasoned the expense of engergy and resources would be to great to sustain New Quintessa."

Primacron raged, biting out questions.

"What do you mean?"

"If you fire the beam, the reaction will shatter this planetoid, and destroy us all."

"So be it! I can set the auto timer! You have ships here! We could evacuate!"

"No Primacron." The Inquisitor shook his head. "New Quintessa is the culumination of ten years of construction, built with the last resources of our once great Empire. We cannot build another homeworld. My Master has so ordered. We must obey. Come with me, now. The Magistrate requests your prescence..."

Primacron raised his fists to the uncompromising roof of New Quintessa.

"Damn them all! I will have my revenge on those mechanical fiends! I swear it!" Primacron broke down and wept, his manic temperment not up to the strain.

Quitely, the Inqusitor placed a tentacle across the scientist's shoulder, in a gesture of concilliation. As the two left the room, the Inquisitor activated an oustide access panel with another tentacle. The lab slid shut, sealed. For now.

In the Courtroom on New Quintessa, the Quintessons looked up, expactantly at the Imperial Magistrate, who hovered over his dais. The Chief Inquisitor and Primarcron stood on opposite sides.

"Brethren, Unicron is dead," the Magistrate boomed.

Wild cheering broke out.

"Galvatron is dead," the Magistrate continued.

More wild cheering ensued.

"The Transformers have lost many of their number. They are weakened. As you can see from the viewtrex monitors here, they are returning to Cybertron. Soon we strike."

More cheering.

"No one will stop us this time." the Magistrate laughed. And his Brethren with him.

In his private Chambers, the Imperial Magistrate hovered over his private dais. The Inquisitor and Primacron stood before him.

"There are still other matters to discuss, my Master," the Inquisitor waved his tentacles languidly.

"Speak," rasped the Magistrate, staring at his two aides with his Death's Head face.

"Unicron has been destroyed...and Galvatron is dead...excellent stategic and tactical points," The Inquisitor drawled.

"Get to the point, Bailiff," the Magistrate scowled.

"Optimus Prime still lives. So do many other notable commanders. The transformers possess all their merge groups, city-size bases and warriors..." The Inquistor stopped.

"And the Liege Maximo survives," Primarcon muttered. The scientist seemed more haggard and irritated then usual. Being prevented from anihilating the Transformers when he had the chance was his main reason.

"What of it?" The Magistrate seemed surprised.

"Master, how can we hope to battle the Transformers with our numbers...let alone battle a god," the Inquisitor's normally stentorian vocoder had reached a feverish pitch of worry.

"You are wrong. The Liege Maximo is merely a machine, like all the others. A complex machine, yes. Very much so...but he is no god," Primacron turned, waving his hands at the Inquisitor. "Unicron was my creation, twisted and warped by that other great machine, the Liege! Do you think I built him with the emphasis on being a demi-god? Of course not. Nor Tornitron. All he was...was what I intended him to be. A force of destruction. An extension of my will."

The simian paused.

"The fact that Unicron developed a sense of nihilism along megalomanical proportions was no fault of mine. Destroy the universe? What's the point in building a machine to destroy yours enemies to rule a universe which would eventually be destroyed anyway? No, the Liege corrupted him somehow...infected, like a virus. Next time..."

"There will be no next time. At leat not yet," the Magistrate's voice was like a whipcrack. "No more monstrous constructions. Not now. Later. A Tornitron Mark II? Possible. We can get you the resources. We brought your lab with us from that dismal planet you were exiled from-"

"Damn that idiot Grimlock!" Primacron raged, stamping his feet.

"In any case for now, we wait. The Transformers are united. Galvatron actually found another Matrix. Even after we told him we didn't even create one. Our creations are more dangerous than ever..." The Magistrate stopped.

"Has the Imperial Magistrate reached a verdict?" The Inquisitor asked, optics glinting brightly.

"I have," the Magistrate answered. Primacron's very bones were chilled by the awesome sentences which had passed judgement on numerous worlds.

The Inquisitor remained silent.

"I propose three scenarios." The Magistrate began. "One: the Transformers unite and destroy the Liege Maximo...in which case we wait, build our resources, legions of Sharkticons, Alligatorcons, battle fleet, construct new techno-organics...and divert funds for Pimacron's research into another weapon."

Both the Inquisitor and Primacron were breathless with anticipation.

"Two: the Autobots and Decepticons violate their agreement. A master failsafe...proof of superior Quintesson construction. The Transformers were never built to co-exist for long. The functions are two different. In which case, we then destroy the victor of the third Civil War."

Again, the two aides said nothing.

"Third: another unseen menace attacks the Transformers. Another Hate Plague? The Swarm? The possibilities are as endless as the Universe. Then, we sit back and wait."

Primacron snorted.

"The Liege will not permit the Quintessons to re-claim the galaxy. He is, after all, a clever machine."

"And what did he do with his so-called creations the Decepticons? he left them to their own devices...just like the ficticious Primus Godhead the Autobots yammer about. Did he make his appearance during the fight with Unicron? No. Which confirmed our suspicions he never existed in the first place. Nor has the Liege found us, or contacted us in any way," The Inquisitor waved his tentacles vigorously.

"Exactly. The Liege does not know of our whereabouts nor care. Why should he? We did not become dominant by being conquerors, Primacron. We did it through trade, manufacturing and arms dealing. Whoever wins this next war, we will make our presence known. All I want..all Quintessons want...is Cybertron. That is Justice. From then? Anything is possible." The Magistrate laughed. "I am a patient organism. The Universe will be ours one day. We merely have to outlast everyone else. And we shall."

A shadowy figure in the corner snickered at Primacron's boasts.

"You no more forged Unicron that you forged me."

The ancient Quint came more into view, showing his age and the scars of being one of the few actual Quint warriors.

Have you all forgotten our history? Primacron, you were manipulated to build that little shell for Unicron just as the rest of us were to forge the Autobots and Decepticons on Cybertron.

From the shadows The Judicator revealed himself now fully.

Judicator: "Has it been so long that we actually now believe the same lies the pathetic Transformers believe? Have we remained within the confines of our own fabricated myths for so long?"

The Judicator simply sighed as he stared into space.

Judicator: "Let us not forget that Unicron and Primus existed long before we ever found the little world Cybertron and forged it into our home. Unicron has always survived every attempt at his destruction...I believe it is safe to say, he will find some way to survive here..."

Judicator then turned to face the others: "As for Galvatron...he is as difficult to kill as any Transformer ever created! How many times did we leave him for dead, only to have him come back? He is the one Decepticons I really harbor a fear off...someway, he will come back to haunt us...perhaps through this new leader...the one called Gigatron. And the Liege? He's as close to a god as any Autobot or Decepticon could ever be...but he's no where near as dangerous as Galvatron..."

Primacron simply snorted at the Judicator.

Fool. How can he even hope to understand my brilliance! Typical warrior...

The Inquisitor shrugged.

"Perhaps, Judicator, but every time Unicron re-surfaces, our rebellious constructs will simply destroy him again. They've done it twice. I say let the fool try a third time. One of those idiot combiners has a horn of his as a trophy! Hah!" The Inquisitor's tetacles lashed about.

The Magistrate turned his Death's Head to the Judicator.

"Your speculation is noted...but the fact remains: Galvatron is dead."

The Magistrate hovered over to where the Judicator looked out the viewport.

"But now is not the time for idle speculation. Inquisitor, give the word to the lesser Magistrates: increase production of Sharkticons and Alligatorcons."

"Of course, Master." The Inquisitor bowed and left the room.

"Primacron," the Magistrate rasped. "Begin research on a new breed of tecno-organics. Use your imagination. And begin drawing schematics for the project we spoke of earlier. Our best scientists will help you in this regard."

The scientist left quickly, rubbing his hands with anticipation.

The Imperial Magistrate once again looked at the Judicator.

"If Galvatron re-appears, I am ordering you personally to destroy him. Mercenaries are preferred...I do not want any action which could draw Transformer fears that the Quintessons are returning to prominence, especially with assisination. But in any case..." The Magistrate returned to his dais. "Do you have any other thoughts, warrior?"

The Judicator looked at his ancient ally.

Judicator: "Thoughts? A million...but one of the utmost importance remains that fact that our plots must remained concealed. To do so, we must not strike prematurely. Likewise...there is an object which I feel would be quite suited to our cause...but I must learn whether it actually exists or not...for if it does...the solution to the Transformers question will be answered."

Judicator paused and shook his head at Primacron.

Judicator: "And what of the Liege Maximo my friends...he still lives."

"One thing at a time, warrior. The Liege Maximo will keep to his own devices for now- have not his forces been utterly defeated in battle? That fool Optitron hides with his pathetic band, and Adeara Stormweaver has offered to exchange allegiance...and Bludgeon is now dead. No, the great 'God' will have to re-assemble his forces. And that will take time."

The Magistrate paused, reflecting.

"You are blunt, as always, Judicator. Be more frank: what is the object of which you speak...and seek? How may I help you to unravel the mystery of our rebellious slaves?"

Judicator reflected then answered.

Judicator: 'May only be a myth old friend...still it was largely rumored and foretold that the final downfall of Unicron would produce an object of great power to the one who possesses it. It could also be used to mark a return for the chaos bringer...I need some more proof of the existance of this object...would it be possible for us to employ scouts to collect every ounce of data on Unicron's explosion?"

The Magistrate nodded, still using his Death's Head face.

"Of course. Use of the mercenary such as the Skuxxiod might be useful...our satellites are only so accurate. Capture of some of the fringe participants might also be useful...with carefully orchestrated strike teams of elite Sharkticons. You, of course, would be in charge of that operation..."

The Magistrate paused, waiting for what the Judicator thought might be the best strategy.

The Judicator pondered...

Judicator: "The best way...hmmm...well there certainly are enough disgruntled Decepticons out there since Galvatron is gone...one's like Shockwave who crave power, and Hatemonger who must feel jilted over Gigatron's ascension. They could provide us with much information...also full details from our satelites showing the entire explosion of Unicron...if this object is truely out there...we should be able to catch some glimpse of it. Then once we know whether it really exists....then we look to gain possesion of it. Deploy the some feelers...check to see if there are any Decepticons who wish to...improve there lot."

The pair chuckled softly...

The Magistrate nooded slightly.

"Yes, Shockwave...might see the logic of joining with us. Hatemunger is considered an upstart, and snubbed by most of the Decepticon elite. Excellent choices..."

The Quintesson Leader floated back to his dais.

"I may employ the Skuxxiod for this mission. If you wish to employ some of your own agents, then do so. Time is on our side."

B]Can I join ?Please?[/B]

On earth In a feild in the mittle of nowhere
"Night bomb we did it!! Unicron is defeated!! Let's tell the others!"Starlancer dance around the room with his brother.
"All right. Slow down. Your going to blow a fuse," Nightbomb pulled himself from his younger brothers grasp. He chuckled as he watch his brother dance some more ingnoring the rest of the world.
" Well come on let's go" Starlancer pull his brother out of the feild to the road.
" Hey slow down, wait your going to pull my arm out," Nightbomb laughed as his brother lead him to the road.
"Where's the nearest Autobot out post?" Starlancer transformed into a motercylce and reved up.
"Thirty miles I think," Nightbomb ran, turned into a jet and went off to follow his brother.

(Sorry I forgot to turn off my sig. twit. *hit self over head*)

(Chobitgirl: First decide where you want your characters to go: Earth, where not much action will happen until Starscreamsghost's Renegades arrive, Cybertron, where all the Transformers are located--and plenty of Autobot bases--, or travel to unknown space, where you may run into the Quintesssons, whom I control. But realistically, that might be hard to do...anyway, decide first, and PM if you have any questions.)

Okay! I should have thought of that. I'm a twit. And this is one of my first RPGs besides one they thought was stoped.
On earth...... "Come on mabe this one will know more then the last" Starlancer pulled his brother to the third Aotubot base.
"Let's not and say we did. Come on Starlancer my tank is almost low and we've been going on for astro-hours," Nightbomb pulled for his brother grasp. Then looking at the camp he thought of something. "Hey starlancer! They said we had three Earthen months off right. So let's go to cybertron for awhile. I know we just got to this camp but it'll be fun," Starlancers' optics lit up. "Yeah!!!!! Cybertron here we come" Nightbomb shook his head "Grow up. Well Let's go. Cybertorn will known everything anyway. You might even meat A few War veterns," Starlancer looked at his brother "Cooooool! Let's go!"
Later
"Cool. So this is the capital." Starlancer tried to look at everything.
" Come on are home wasn't that bad" Nightbomb put his hands on his waist and waited for Starlancer to move on. "Anyway I herd a few famous warriors were here" Stralancer ran to his brother then let's go settle in. Then we explore" And with that Starlancer draged Nightbomb to there lodgeings.
They are on cybertron

Working in his secluded lab, Primacron was hard at work at developing plans for yet another fearsome weapon. The plans for Tornitron Mark II lay in a smattering of blueprints, and the energy machines necessary for his construction also lay at hand.

Schematics for new Techno-Organics were tacked up on a plethora of billboards.

The simiain genius was happy. The Quintesson Inquisitor glided into the room, tentacles lashing.

"How goes your planning, Primacron?" The Inquistor's deep voice rumbled.

"Well enough, if I wasn't being interupted!" The scientist muttered. "Protractor!" He extended a hand without looking up from his drafting table. A Sharkticon handed him the instrument after searching for it for a few minutes. Primarcron proceeded to draw an angle.

"Fair retort," The Inquisitor laughed and glided over to the table. "What is this?"

"Tornitron, Mark II," Primacron looked up at the odd creature. His eyes were gleaming with manic intensity. "I manged to contain a tiny...no, miniscule amount of my original creation here...in a special vacuum chamber."

"The original Tornitron?" The Inquisitor was skeptical.

"Oh yes. I created him. Why shouldn't I know about loopholes for helping re-create him?" Primacron waved the protractor clutching hand.

"A fraction of the original being...held in a chamber which, by definition, is devoid of energy...then, I suppose, you will release the fractional piece of the original Tornitron into an energy field...or another contained chamber, so he regains his shape?" The Inquisitor was stunned.

"Very good, for a question-asker," Primacron answered. "This time, he will have increased intelligence...but also a tightly controlled and continous command...obedience. I will not make the same mistake next time. Also, his necessity for abosrbing energy will be much reduced. In other works, strike at a few key targets without fear of gorging, which unfortunately happened with Unicron. Tornitron Mark II will never rebel against us. But that project is months away..."

Suddenly, one the pieces of equipment, hooked up to a giant satellite, shuddered violently. A picture sprang up. It contained one of the few clandestine cameras on Cybertron, helped immensly by the satellite feed.

Primacron, the Inquisitor and the attending Sharkticon aides hurried to the monitor, which displayed Gigatron and Optimus Prime. They watched, stunned, as Gigatron began his transformation into Teratron.

"Incredible," Primacron whispered.

"Teratron..." the Inquisitor rumbled. "He will make Galvatron appear a prototype by comparison. I will alert the Magistrate. You continue your experiments...see if you can deduce anything from it." The Inquisitor left the room quickly, the doors closing behind him.

"What I deduce," Primacron said to his ten Sharkticon aides, who were huddled around him, "is that Teratron will be more than your Masters can handle. But we shall see."

The Sharkticons laughed slightly, then went back to work.

Primacron studied the readouts the machine gave him. Evidently, the Decepticons had a Matrix. That was bad enough...but the fact that it had merged with Gigatron was even worse. The simian shook his head, went back to his drafting table, then forgot about the problem of Gigatron/Teratron.

And, chuckling slightly, returned to his work for Tornitron, Mark II.