By: Landray Depth Charge

Who do they think they are?

Depth Charge walked the streets of Colony Omicron, his mind in turmoil over this new development. The Maximal High Council had decided to place some being - whom they referred to as ‘safe’- into Omicron’s high security holding facilities. What did they call it? Protoform X? Something like that. He’d gone to Cybertron to obtain information on the experiment, and to view the creature itself, and was rather dismayed to find that Protoform X was not harmless, by any means. In fact, it was a warped, psychotic beast with a lust for violence that Depth Charge had never before seen in any one Maximal.

And quite unfortunately, the High Council hadn’t given the guardian a choice as to wether or not he wanted the protoform on Colony Omicron at all. They’d instead forced the experiment into Depth Charge’s hands, despite the guardian’s distressed objections. Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Depth Charge casually nodded to those who greeted him as he made his way towards Omicron’s prison, which had been temporarily converted into a science center, of sorts. Researchers and other such brainy ‘bots had been constantly milling about the penitentiary ever since the protoform’s arrival early that morning.

The large building loomed ahead of him, and, as he had been told, the place was buzzing with activity. The regular prisoners, consisting mostly of high-priority Predacon lawbreakers - murderers, assassins, con artists, etc. - had been moved to another small penal institution a short distance from Cybertron’s second moon, to make room for the ‘innocuous’ experiment. Safe, yeah right. As far as the guardian was concerned, the Protoform X project was about as safe as walking unarmed into a room full of rabid saber-tooth gwerms.

The two security guards in the front of the building nodded to him and unlocked the doors to allow Depth Charge passage. As usual, the Maximal had to duck under the doorway because he was unusually tall. Omicron’s guardian towered over the majority of its population, along with most of Cybertron’s populace as well. A flight of marble stairs led him from the noisy first level to the second level, the holding cells. The first hall of chambers was dark and deserted and abnormally quiet. Creepy.

Depth Charge headed forward towards the exit at the opposite end of the silenced hallway, but paused when he got to it. On the other side of the metal door there came a bloodcurdling wail of unrecognizable source, then another and another, each shriek rising in pitch and volume. What in the name of Primus is that?

The guardian tapped the key pad beside the door and it immediately wooshed open without a sound. The screams inside the circular area rung out with new clarity, making him wince with each fresh outcry. Depth Charge approached the railing at the edge of the pit and looked down. Below him, the area where the prisoners were normally turned out to stretch their legs had been reformatted into something that resembled a medic’s office, with tables and lights and odd-looking medical equipment. Square in the middle of the room there was a behemoth of a ‘bot lying on the center table, surrounded by smaller Maximals, screaming his head off. Depth Charge lifted the optic enhancers to his face a bit more, zooming in on the congregation of little people around the screeching giant. Upon closer inspection, Omicron’s guardian realized that the monster ‘bot, this Protoform X, wasn’t any larger than he was himself, and, more shockingly, that the protoform’s chest was splayed wide open. "What the.."

"Magnificent beast, isn’t he?"

Depth Charge whirled about with surprising speed, piercing red optics refocusing on the ‘bot that had startled him. After a moment he said, "What?"

The smaller Maximal, about twelve feet tall and mainly dark green in color, gestured towards the howling metal creature in the pit.

Omicron’s guardian turned back to the scene, "What exactly are they doing to him?"

"Him?" the green transformer laughed, "We hardly refer to it as a ‘him’, guardian. It is not worthy of such recognition. They are Cybertron’s top scientists, trying to figure out what makes the protoform tick."

"So, you created this thing just to do spark experimentation on him...it?"

"Ah.." the small Maximal’s yellow optics seemed to light up, his cheery voice a stark contrast to the screams of agony in the background. "Not just any spark, my thick-headed friend. An immortal spark."

Thick-headed? "Immortal? How is that possible, since the only known immortal spark is bobbering out in space somewhere."

"You do not need to know those details, guardian. Your job is to ensure that the protoform remains on this colony, as the High Council most likely made clear to you. You did understand those instructions, did you not?"

Depth Charge decided not to dignify that question with an answer. Instead he turned back towards the circular pit, resting his heavy forearms on the railing. "Looks like torture to me.." he commented quietly, his voice barely a whisper amidst the wretched howling of the tormented protoform. The guardian’s very spark shuddered at the thought of the word ‘torture’. Been through enough of it.

The littler robot hadn’t heard him. "Well," he said, "I must be going. I bid you farewell, guardian. Oh, and don’t be poking your olfactory sensors where they don’t belong, all right?"

Omicron’s guardian turned and watched the rude Maximal leave the same way he had come in. It was then that he realized the room was still. The screams had subsided, leaving the pit eerily silent. Depth Charge turned his head back towards the source of the deafening silence. The scientists had backed away from the protoform, and they seemed to be waiting for something. Realization struck the young guardian like an Autobot fire truck: the protoform’s chest was healing. Its splayed wound was closing by itself, the great breast of the creature heaving as it inhaled. How bizarre was that?

The experiment was limp in the energon bonds that kept it on the table, exhausted from the torture that it had been forced to endure. Foam bubbled up from its angry vertical mouth, giving it a rabid appearance. Depth Charge felt a twinge of pity for this creature, and wondered how much of this the protoform went through every day. The researchers grouped together, muttered a few words and wrote down some notes on their data padds, then slipped off in different directions. They were leaving him there?

The guardian watched the scientists leave, then silently headed for the stairway that led down into the pit. The circular room was large, to say the least, about two-hundred and fifty yards or so in diameter. The experiment area, where the protoform was, took up minimal space in the middle of the room. Depth Charge’s feet made surprisingly little sound as he descended the stairs, but the robot on the table heard it. Its head jerked around towards the small sound, emerald optics peering into the blackness. Depth Charge remained there, on the last step, watching the creature watch him.

Protoform X’s green eyes glared at the glowing rubies in the dark. He expected this to be another scientist, another bout of torture and pain, another session of science at his expense. This robot in the shadows seemed taller than the other researchers, but probably just as brutal. The red behemoth lay there, neck craned to stare at the guardian, preparing himself for more suffering. Oh, how he’d like to kill them, torture them like they tortured him. He wanted so badly to give them back just a taste of what they put him through...

Depth Charge descended the remaining step and advanced slowly, moving into the light. Protoform X took note of the ‘bot’s predominantly teal color scheme, and most of all, his startling height. Rampage had never seen a robot that was as tall as he, and this one seemed to be even a little taller. Emerald optics burned hatred into Depth Charge’s own eyes so fiercely that the guardian nearly stepped back. Instead, he stopped where he was - only a few meters from where the wretched protoform lay. The relatively young Maximal watched the creature, studying it and its features with a slightly tilted head. Protoform X’s red armor gleamed under the overhead light as he watched the bluish Maximal with suspicious optics. He had half a mind to say something, but he’d learned long ago that to speak to one of the scientists was to ask for worse torture.

Then the Maximal did something unexpected.

Depth Charge moved forward and released the bonds restraining X’s legs, then the ones binding his abdomen, but paused at the heavy energon restraints hobbling his arms. The guardian was unsure as to what the protoform’s reaction would be. Attack, bolt, or both, he thought grimly. Taking a deep breath, the aquamarine Maximal removed from subspace a pair of energon manacles and released X’s left hand, replacing one bond with another. Protoform X watched, completely befuddled, as Depth Charge reached across and liberated his right wrist, then stepped back, waiting.

At first, the experiment hadn’t a clue as to what this blue-green monster Maximal wanted and so remained still. This ‘bot from nowhere had freed him! But...why? The Maximal stood quietly, his gauntlet-like forelimbs folded across his wide chest. X slowly and carefully began to sit up, waiting for the swift punishment he thought would surely come. It didn’t. The brawny transformer his presence stepped forward, taking hold of the handcuffs hanging loose from the protoform’s left wrist. Without a word the guardian calmly bound X’s hands behind his back.

Depth Charge’s bass vocals were barely hiss in the dark, "Get up."

Omicron’s guardian watched carefully as the experiment flung his legs over the side of the table and stood, suddenly bold, face to face with him. Depth Charge didn’t exactly tower over the red robot, when in fact he only stood about six or so inches taller. He did, however, outweigh the protoform by at least two thousand pounds. X’s verdant optics glared into the guardian’s face, unblinking, and the guardian returned the stare as ruthlessly as he was receiving it, unafraid. After what must have been a full three cycles, Depth Charge broke the silence. "Where are they keeping you?"

X nodded, hesitated just one more moment to stare into the eyes of the Maximal, then turned and walked into the darkness. Depth Charge grabbed the protoform’s manacles and walked behind him as X led the way to the cell where he was kept. Once there, the guardian keyed the bonds open and released the High Council’s experiment to do what he pleased in the confines of the holding chamber. Depth Charge made sure the barred door was locked and left X on his own.

****

"Hey Chief, you’re late."

Depth Charge nodded silently to his only female employee, Coquina, and headed towards his office. He wasn’t EVER late. In fact, he was the first one in the building eighty-percent of the time, so everyone around the government facility noticed that he hadn’t shown up that morning. As usual, the guardian was tight-lipped and didn’t offer any explanations.

He’d barely sat down at his desk when the video-phone clicked on. Coquina’s face appeared on the screen. "The High Council would like to speak with you, chief."

"Tell them I’m busy. And, for Primus’ sake, quit calling me ‘chief’!" was the gruff retort.

"They aren’t taking ‘no’ for an answer....chief."

With an exasperated sigh Depth Charge told her to patch them through. The video screen went dark for a second, then the blackness was replaced with the Maximal High Council, sitting around a large table in some concealed room on Cybertron. "Good morning, Elders. What can I do you for?" Depth Charge asked a little nicer than he’d wanted to.

Nazarius, head High Councilor, spoke first, "Where were you this morning?"

"Pardon?"

"I asked you where you were this morning. I’ve been attempting to get through to you for damn near two megacycles, and every time I tried that slagging secretary of yours told me you weren’t in yet. So, where were you?"

The guardian sighed, "First off, Nazarius, Coquina isn’t my secretary. She’s a patrol worker, on rotation in office. To answer your question, I was checking up on your little experiment, which so suddenly has been dropped into my facilities. I did nothing wrong."

The Elder sat back, "On the contrary, Depth Charge. You did everything wrong."

The teal Maximal’s optics blazed, but he kept his voice box in check.

"You are not to interfere with that protoform," Nazarius continued, "Is that clear?"

" I didn’t interf-"

"What you did this morning was unauthorized, Depth Charge!" the Elder snapped, "You weren’t even supposed to be permitted into that building to begin with, and that issue has been addressed with your guards."

Again Depth Charge bit his tongue and said, "I didn’t interfere with anything. I see nothing wrong with putting him back in his holding cell, since those sparkologists, or whatever they were, were finished torturing him."

"What they do is science, not torture. If you had even a single clue in that young, impudent mind of yours, you’d see that. Mind your own business, guardian."

Something in Depth Charge’s mechanized brain snapped. "I am no child, Nazarius, so don’t speak to me like one! And for one thing, that thing, that protoform, is a safety hazard. Anything that threatens the safety of my colony is most certainly my business! Ergo, I reserve the right to observe and participate if and when I need to. I don’t care who you are, Elder. I want full access to the Protoform X project, or I fragging swear on my life I’ll go public with this."

Nazarius paused, shocked at the guardian’s outburst. The rest of the High Council murmured to each other. They didn’t want the general populace to know about the experiments...

"You go public and I’ll have you executed, you got that?" Elder Nazarius seethed, "I’ll end your puerile life prematurely, Depth Charge. And another thing: Omicron is not your colony, and don’t you ever start thinking that it is. It is our colony, and you just happen to have been chosen to govern it. I’m beginning to regret that decision, myself."

"That still brings me back to my original point: I want complete access to everything there is to know about the Protoform X project, or I go public. I couldn’t care less whether you execute me. Of course, you’d have to catch me first. I’d like to see one of your third rate bounty hunters try to apprehend me." Depth Charge snickered.

Nazarius sighed, rubbing his temples. "Why must you be such a pain in my skidpate?"

"I’m not asking for the universe, Nazarius."

Again, the Elder let out an exasperated breath and paused, thinking for a moment. There were certain risks in giving Depth Charge total access to the project, and as he thought about it he decided that the risks were perhaps too great. "Give me a nano-click, guardian." The screen went black.

The bluish Maximal sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head and propping his feet on the desk. He knew he’d won, at least to some extent. He found himself thinking about the protoform, that pitiable, tormented creature who had learned to hate before he’d learned anything else. Depth Charge couldn’t help but wonder why the scientists and doctors didn’t bother to at least give X some sort of sedative during the ‘experiments’. They called Protoform X a Maximal, after all.

The monitor screen to the guardian’s video-phone blinked on again, "All right, Depth Charge. Before I submit to anything, I want to know what you want."

"Regarding X? Everything."

The Elder seemed to roll his optics, "Yes, we know that. Can you be more specific?"

"Hmm..." the guardian mused, thinking to himself, "Any and all information, such as when this thing was created and why and how, and I want to be able to, well, do my job. I want to oversee his holding cell and, based on past reports, ensure that the facility is secure enough to harbor such an...unsafe transformer. I would also request that the protoform be put under while enduring your experiments on him." Depth Charge blinked, then added quickly "To guarantee that the protoform won’t go berserk. If this thing is as powerful as you once said, I’m not satisfied with simple energon restraints."

The High Council seemed puzzled by his last requisition. "Well, I’ll tell you what, young guardian. I will allow you limited data, on certain points of the protoform’s short past. You will also be in complete charge of its lodging. So if it escapes and kills somebody, it’s your fault." Nazarius smirked at the screen infront of him. "I will forward your last suggestion to the medics and science officers in charge, but that is up to them. Are you satisfied?"

Depth Charge seemed the think about it, folding his arms over his big chest. After a few agonizing moments, the teal and silver Maximal nodded, "Affirmative."

"Good. And you’d better not overstep your limits and stick that nosy little face of yours into higher business, or so help me, you’ll be working sewer maintenance for the rest of your miserable life. I hope I am understood." The screen went black.

With a sigh, the guardian keyed the comms to the main desk, "I’m going home. Coquina, you’re in charge for the rest of the day."

Without giving anyone a chance to answer him, he shut the comms off, turned on the surveillance system he’d installed in the corner of his office, walked out and locked the door. Depth Charge knew that tomorrow would bring hell, considering all the work that had already begun piling itself on his desk would probably double by the time he clocked in the next morning. But nothing could have been farthest from his mind than that.

****

The protoform slowly came back from the deep sedation of shutdown. His emerald optics glowed in the darkness, lit up with malevolence that had become normal. The steady ache in his chest, behind the metal walls of his cuirass and spark chamber, was also something he had come to expect. His spark shuddered and throbbed in the throes of the latest bout of science. Would this never stop?

But, there was one factor in his day so far that had not been normal. The one variant was what X thought was kindness, coming from the ‘bot he had never seen before. The Maximal’s face, his optics in particular, was forever burned into the red robot’s mind. Protoform X had seen something in the teal transformer’s bloodred gaze, something he’d never seen in the optics of the scientists and medics and researchers. They always seemed bored. Bored with life, with their work, with everything. But this...this robot...had fire and ambition. He wanted to be something. The Maximal who had escorted him back to his cell not a megacycle earlier was completely different to any other of the faction that X’d met, in every possible way. He had...rage.

After the teal Maximal had left, he’d heard the science officers start screaming, panicking when they realized that he was gone. He’d already curled up on the metal slab that served as a bed when the commotion started. Protoform X barely recalled seeing a smaller robot of dark green color, standing at the bars, looking in at him. One of the frenzied medics rushed over to his cell, and, upon realizing X was there, relaxed a little. But then, the question of how he’d gotten back into his cell, locked and all, came up. The little green Maximal had mentioned seeing whom he’d called ‘the guardian’ release the protoform and escort X back to his lodgings.

As expected, the medic had had a fit. Protoform X suspected that the benevolent Maximal would get in trouble, and would probably never return. The experiment made a promise to himself. In return for the kindness shown to him, X was going to free this ‘guardian’. Liberate his rage from behind the bars of cold Maximal discipline and nobility, and set it free to run rampant through the streets of mortality.

And the protoform knew just how to do it.

****

It had all happened so quickly. Omicron’s guardian was at home, spending what would be his last moments with his family, his wife and child. His time with them was unjustly interrupted by an earsplitting explosion, and the sounds of robots screaming in the streets. The guardian had run out onto the balcony of the apartment and turned his gaze west - the penitentiary was gone, replaced by fire and smoke and smoldering bits of scrap. For the next three megacycles, Depth Charge scrambled about from place to place, trying to find the being he knew was responsible for the disaster. But no one could find that wretched protoform, and for a while the guardian had thought that perhaps X had been killed. But the word immortal rang through his mind again and again. Then robots started dying.

Entire buildings of Omicron’s inhabitants started turning up dead, each dying quietly, the sparks ripped from the cuirass that protected them. The death toll continued to mount over the next several hours as the panicked guardian tried to maintain control of the situation, tried to keep the colony itself under control. But Depth Charge had soon realized that control was impossible, that the plight had snowballed hopelessly out of his hands. He was no longer in charge.

The remainder of Omicron’s frenzied citizens tried to leave...only to find that they couldn’t. The High Council had quickly received word of the catastrophe in progress, and had ordered for a lockdown of the colony. The shuttleport was swiftly shut down.

Depth Charge was at a total loss. There was nothing he could do for Colony Omicron if he couldn’t find what was destroying it. So, instead of fruitlessly trying to protect the colony from this invisible killer, he’d set his goals a little lower and went home to try to save his family. But even this small feat proved a failure.

Protoform X fought like Depth Charge had never seen. He fought ruthlessly, without mercy. The guardian retaliated the best he knew, strained to preserve what was most dear to him. But Protoform X just laughed and took his blows with a twisted smile. He had been playing with the bigger Maximal, taunting him and dodging half of Depth Charge’s attempted attacks, but was reluctant to kill him. Instead, the vile robot had beaten the guardian until he couldn’t move, until his limbs were too damaged and his head too dazed to fight back. Depth Charge, the youngest guardian ever assigned to the job, was forced to watch as X slaughtered his family.

The High Council, not wanting to risk the death of any more Maximals than necessary, had not sent any kind of reinforcements to try to help the paralyzed colony. Elder Nazarius had watched helplessly as the ten thousand Maximals on Colony Omicron were butchered. Cybertron was silent that day, the entire Maximal population mourning over such a monumental loss of life. Thirteen megacycles after the attack began, Omicron had been raped of all its life and promise, and had been reduced to nothing.

****

The only thing Depth Charge could remember clearly was the look on his mate’s face.

The former guardian stared stupidly out of the huge glass window, gazing unblinkingly at the bustling activity that was Cybertron as it buzzed below him in the streets. Five solarcycles had passed since Depth Charge had been found on the remains of his colony, and he’d neither moved nor spoken a single word since. He didn’t sleep, he didn’t take energon...he just sat there on the edge of his bed, staring out of that window. His body was riddled with bandages and syntho-gauze to interrupt further fluid loss, but the wounds themselves didn’t seem to be healing.

The psychotherapists in the hospital had tried everything to get any kind of a reaction from him, but nothing had worked, not sound, nor word, nor pain. They didn’t know what to do with him, as he seemed beyond all psychological help. A small robot watched him from across the room, waiting for any kind of change in the Maximals behavior. But, as he had fully expected, Depth Charge’s mental status remained the same.

Nicodemus slowly exited the room. In his many years as a psychiatrist on Cybertron, he’d seen plenty of trauma cases, but none of them quite measured up to this one. The white and silver Maximal simply couldn’t figure Depth Charge out, so deep was the damage done to the guardian’s mind. "Excuse me."

Nicodemus turned around and looked up at the Maximal before him. "Hello. Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, actually. My name is Optimus Primal. I would like to see one of your patients."

"My patients? Whom?"

Primal searched through his memory banks, looking for the name. "I believe his name is....Depth Charge?"

The psychiatrist shook his head and smiled woefully, "I’m afraid there’s no hope for that one. Are you a therapist of some sort?"

"Well, no." Primal shifted his weight uncomfortably, "I’m the captain of an exploration team."

The shrink lifted an optic ridge, "Then what do you want with him? Right now, he’s got the mental reactivity of a potato, so asking him questions isn’t going to get you anywhere."

"I don’t want to ask him any questions," said Primal, "I want to see if I can help."

Nicodemus’ brows lifted, "Uh huh. And you’re an exploration captain. Well, Optimus Primal, if you’d like to be bored out of your mind for a while, sure, he’s your ‘bot. This way."

The psychiatrist turned and escorted the explorer back down the hallway, motioning to the window infront of him. Optimus Primal, an average sized robot of about ten feet, stood infront of the glass, peering in. The transformer in the room was completely motionless, his back to the hallway. "He’s been that way since he got here. Five solarcycles and he hasn’t even moved. I’m beginning to think that his joints have frozen into place."

Optimus ‘hmm’ed in response to the psychiatrists comment. Slowly, he reached across and keyed the door open, stepping inside of the room. The chamber was completely white, with no windows other that the observation window, and the big one the teal Maximal was staring at. The captain stepped up beside the fallen guardian, at first gazing at the sullen face, the ovular eyes that shimmered like blood, then turned his vision to the window. "What do you find so interesting out there?" he asked softly.

No response.

"The pace is probably a little faster here than it was on Omicron, though." Primal went on, gazing out of the window. The explorer turned once again to the massive Maximal next to him. He noted that Depth Charge’s head, along with most of the rest of his body, was wrapped in syntho-gauze. "What’s in your head, guardian? What’s in that mind of yours that keeps you from responding?"

From the door Nicodemus watched Optimus Primal speak to the transformer. Although he knew nothing would come out of this futile attempt, he was bound by law to remain in the room to observe and document any changes. The psychologist approached them, "You know this isn’t going to work, right? You’re an explorer, not a doctor. We’ve tried everything in our knowledge to get him to respond. I mean, you’re talking to a vegetable."

Optimus turned to him, "Have you thought for even one nanoclick that all he needs is to be spoken to? I mean, how would you react if someone started shocking you and jabbing you with laser hypodermics? If I were him, I’d withdraw, too."

Nicodemus sighed and rubbed his temples. He wanted to explain that the pain reaction treatments were humane, that Primal was exaggerating, and that Depth Charge hadn’t felt them anyway. But instead the white and silver Maximal kept to himself and watched as the red and white explorer continue to talk to the unresponsive ex. guardian. He talked for several minutes about what he’d read about Omicron, which had been a hugely military based colony, and how such a tragedy would affect the Maximals as a whole. He commented on the fact that Depth Charge was the youngest guardian assigned in Cybertron’s long history. Still, the big Maximal continued to stare out of the window, his optics dull and dumb looking.

Soon, Optimus Primal fell silent, having run out of things to talk about. He remained where he was, standing infront of the window, gazing out at the world he called home. But this was not Depth Charge’s home, he knew. He continued to ponder the universe, when something broke into his thoughts. A mumble.

Depth Charge had said something! Or so it seemed, at least.

Primal turned his startled gaze towards the source of the garbled sound. The former guardian had fallen silent, and after several minutes of reticence, he’d begun to think that he’d simply been hearing things.

"Is there anyone else?"

Nicodemus snapped to attention as Primal tried not to look surprised, "I’m sorry?"

The fallen guardian’s unusually deep voice was but a whisper in the silenced room, "Did anyone else...survive.." Depth Charge seemed somewhat detached, distracted.

Optimus Primal paused, then shook his head. "You’re the only one."

The bloodred rubies on the teal Maximal’s face shut off, then back on again, "Did they....did they catch him?" he said, in the same monotonous tone that disturbed Nicodemus. Monotony of speech was quite commonly a sign of impending violent lunacy. "Catch whom?" Nicodemus interjected tentatively.

Depth Charge’s optics suddenly flared in anger, and his head jerked to face the exploration captain, even though it had not been he who said it. "X," he seethed, "He killed everybody. He...KILLED...EVERYONE!" The huge Maximal stood up, and it became clear to the smaller ‘bots just how big he really was. Sitting hunched over on the bed had belied the Maximal’s true stature. Optimus estimated that Depth Charge stood at least sixteen feet tall.

"Primal, move away from him." Nicodemus ordered, his voice calm. "Slowly."

"What?" the guardian growled, turning his suddenly malevolent gaze towards his doctor, "You scared, doc? You think I’m dangerous?" Depth Charge advanced on the psychiatrist, his feet thumping ominously on the floor. "Correct assumption. Get out of my way."

The doctor called Nicodemus did exactly the opposite, "You can’t leave, Depth Charge. You aren’t well."

"Oh, how untrue that is," the teal Maximal said, tossing a threatening glance back at Primal, who had begun to move behind him. "Depth Charge," hissed Primal, "Remember what you are, here."

The subject of Primal’s comment snarled deep in his gut, "And what’s that? What am I?"

"A Maximal."

"Puh," the furious transformer scoffed, "The High Council has proved to me that ‘Predacon’ and ‘Maximal’ are just words. They mean the same thing." Crimson eyes trained back onto the white and silver Maximal still blocking his way. "You think you’ll stop me from leaving, shrink? All by yourself? A fleet of marines couldn’t stop me."

With that said, the massive Maximal ripped off the layers of syntho-gauze that covered his battered body, exposing the still oozing wounds as his powerful silver fist closed around the psychiatrist’s arm. With a twitch of his huge forelimb, Depth Charge sent Nicodemus flying across the room. The fallen guardian turned to face Primal, his intelligent ruby optics daring the captain to strike, daring him to make a move against him. Primal’s own red eyes gazed back, unafraid, as he stooped to help the psychiatrist to his feet. Satisfied, Depth Charge turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

The hulking transformer tromped down the hallway, scattering smaller Maximals as he went. He wasn’t watching where he was walking, and to his delirious mind it didn’t matter; if one didn’t want to get stepped on, one got oneself out of the way. As he walked out of the building and into the dim Cybertron sun, the carnage he had witnessed in his own home played through his deranged head like a movie. He’d battled X with everything he had, trying so hard to save those he loved the most. X won. The protoform dragged his wife into the room; she fought him, fought him like a tigress, but it was ineffectual. X killed his son, still in his infancy, infront of his parents. Tore him apart while Depth Charge and Lazuli had been forced to watch. The teal Maximal’s head jerked oddly to the side at the memory. Screaming. The child had screamed as he was ripped to pieces. HaarRRGGH! Depth Charge’s hands flew to the sides of his head as his cybernetic brain began to throb. X...after he was finished with the infant, he grabbed his mate, ripped her open by the chest and devoured her very life, her very spark while she screamed in agony.

The smaller Maximals in the streets hurriedly got out of the fallen guardian’s way as he stumbled down the road. His head hurt so much..he could barely think. Depth Charge’s footsteps became more and more uneven as the world began to melt together. His vision was blurred, depth perception off; what was far away looked close, and what was close looked far. His cumbersome frame lurched to and fro unsteadily, attracting even more unwanted Maximal attention. These people knew who he was, some of them felt sorry for him and asked if he was okay. He turned to one of those who asked, blinked, and shook his head to clear it. "Yes. I’m fine. Everything is going to be right again."

Everything would be all right. He would make sure of it.

X was going to pay.

Omicron would have justice.

He would have revenge.

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