"Redemption" Part 1 - Prologue

By Ivy Bohnlein

The characters are Hasbro's, or the creations of the minds of TF 2005
players.  The idea, the editing, and some great suggestions are Susan
Goodfellow's and Mike Kosior's.  The writing (especially the mistakes)
is all mine.
  

     The Predacon's confident steps faltered as he entered the office of
his commander and felt the massive weight of his leader's gaze upon him.
He was suddenly very conscious of every detail of his surroundings and his
own entrance, including that, in his haste, he'd forgotten to transform
before he'd entered.
     Sky Lynx's golden optic band focused on the gleaming lion's head
mounted on Razorclaw's chest, then shifted his gaze to the abruptly uneasy
robotic face above it.  "You come into my magnificent presence in this
unnatural mode? the Commander of the Primes asked icily, each word
offering a different view of his deadly fangs.
     Razorclaw immediately shifted forms, his paws landing on the ground
with feline grace.  He lowered his orange-maned head slightly, stating,
"My apologies, Commander.  I forgot myself.  I bring word from our
scouts."
     Sky Lynx shifted, his legs unfolding as he rose to his clawed feet.
"Success?"
     Razorclaw nodded, baring his fangs in a malicious smile.  "The
encampment of the resisters has been located.  It appears hastily
reinforced and poorly defended."
     "And Rodimus?  He is there?" The voice struck like a whip, snapping
through the air.
     "He is, Commander.  This is their final hiding place.  They are all
together on a world known as Phoenicia Seven.  Our ultimate victory is
finally at hand," Razorclaw reported, his eagerness clear.
     Sky Lynx nodded slowly.  "This will be the rebels' last stand, then.
Now that they have nothing more to lose, they will fight even more
ferociously.  Rally the troops.  When we attack, it will be at full
strength and without mercy.  You are dismissed."
     Razorclaw's optics glowed.  "As you command.  All will be prepared
when you call for the attack."     He then turned and loped out of the
door with the unconcerned grace that comes naturally to cats.
     Sky Lynx watched the lion leave, then spent a moment considering the
news.  Millennia had come and gone during the course of this war, changing
the face of the galaxy in their wake.  And now, finally, it would be over.
He had found Rodimus.
     With a casual gesture, the gryphon called a sealed metal box from
subspace and studied it in his paw.  It was matte black, and seemed
ordinary enough, but Sky Lynx could feel the power radiating from the
object within.  The most valuable artifact on Cybertron.  Literally within
his grasp.
     And yet, the Matrix refused to respond to him.  Not once, in the
seven or more million years he had possessed it, had it ever responded to
his calls.  Instead it sat in its box.  Waiting.  Waiting for Rodimus to
die, so it could be free to chose its new master.  The choice was obvious,
of course.  Sky Lynx was the undisputed leader of the Primes, and as such,
he held the destiny of this whole sector in his paws.  His suitability for
the Matrix was clear.
     He had succeeded where all others had failed.  He had destroyed his
enemies, united Cybertron, and brought galaxies together in peace under
the banner of his Primes.  Yes, there was the occasional misguided
rebellion to quash, and the activities of those terrorist rebels.  They
called themselves Cybertronians, but they were little more than a nuisance
- an obstacle to his rightful dominion.  Fortunately, that obstacle was
about to be exterminated.
     Sky Lynx ran a claw gently along the box's seal.  Soon now, he
thought, Rodimus will be dead.  And then our combined radiance will rule
this universe together.  As he had learned to expect, there was no answer. 
    Not yet.

[cont.]



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