Transformer New Horizons: Rebirth of The Tyrant. RP

The sun rested high above the outpost town. A small town, on a small world, in a far tucked away corner of the galaxy. Nothing more than a little cluster of buildings in the middle of a large field, with a short wall surrounding them to keep the wildlife out. The buildings were made of a mix of cybertronian materials and local resources.

It felt no different than any other day. Bots going about taking care of upkeep on the town. Others staying in there homes and sleeping in. Everyone’s attention was pulled away however as Torchwing, a well known predacon within this settlement, came walking through the middle of the town with a megaphone.

“Town meeting everybody! This is urgent. Don’t act like you have anything more important to do. Everybody head over to town hall and get a seat. There’s an important announcement coming up.”
The predacon pirate said as he made his way towards a large central building.

(Sorry if I put this up a little late in the day)


A lanky red maximal snaps out of a daydream from Torchwing’s voice blasting through the megaphone. His head snaps up from his desk, and he looks over to see that he’d burned another bizarre mathematical formula into its surface with a laser coming out of his finger. Like the rest of the messy equations and odd symbols etched into or scrawled across the table, the recharging platform, and just about everywhere else in his small dwelling, it was written in the dead language of ancient Cybertron: an enigmatic series of glyphs he couldn’t understand. Sighing as if doodling in a forgotten language while blacked-out was completely normal- because it was for him- Tripwire stumbles out into the street, transforms, and drives to the town hall.

A small clinic on the far side of town shuts off its lights, save for a holographic sign behind the front window which changed from a welcoming “OPEN” rendered in green to an off-putting red “CLOSED”, as its head doctor and his patient step outside. The doctor, a bot of around average height for a postwar-era cybertronian, holds the front door open for his patient to duck through. The white-and-red bot emerges into the sunlight and rises to his full height, standing head and shoulders above the stocky green-armored doctor.

“Well, perfect timing; eh, Backbreaker?” the doctor jokes, lightly clapping the white robot on the back. Backbreaker gently shoves him back, as part of the unspoken routine the two had developed.

“A surgeon isn’t supposed to be fast,” he retorts in a heavy, rumbling voice. “Back in the war, if a medic put you back together quick, you checked their storage locker for ‘spare parts’.”

“I know,” the doctor groans, locking the door to the clinic. "I was there; quit acting like you’re the only veteran on this mudball.

“Besides, older models like you aren’t worth anything anymore,” Hemorrhage adds as the lock beeps. “Obsolete hardware, you know.”

The two share a laugh as they follow Torchwing’s voice to the town hall.


The interior to the town hall was fairly simple. A large room with more than enough seating for all the town’s occupants. At the back of the room was a central podium.

Behind said podium stood the predacon named Maximus. His close friend Bluntforce and his conjux Axis stood at either side of him.

Maximus was a young bot everyone here knew well. He helped establish the settlement, and has been the unofficial leader of the place. Though he’d never think of himself as such.

The young predacon was looking uncharacteristically nervous as he watched the town residents shuffle into the building and take their seats. Axis looked up to her love and gave a slight smile.

“Relax. It’ll be alright.”
She said, trying to reassure him.

Maximus sighed.
“I hope so.”


A crate is put down with a soft thud from its weight, scraping slightly as it’s pushed next to the others. The Maximal leans back up, chirping away as he thinks about what’s left to take out.

That should be all the Energon. Already gave the replacement parts. Which means there’s…

His thoughts gets interrupted as Torchwing calls out for the meeting. For any in the hangar bay, they’d notice Timberjack’s face furrow into confusion. And for the moment, his chirp tune ends.

What in Cybertron could this place need an urgent meeting? A rogue asteroid? Hm. Yeah, I can spare some time.

Timberjack quickly closes up his ship and heads for the town hall. He may not spend a ton of time here, but the place is small enough that he knows the buildings. Half the time, he’s taken the supplies door-to-door.


The yellow-tan scorpion quickly scuttled across the streets as Darksting hurried for town hall. Torchwing, being him, had called an urgent meeting. He had been busy catching up on some sleep and that blowhard had called an emergency meeting.
This better be something good, Darksting thought as he shifted from scorpion to robot mode.


Tripwire happens to pull up beside Darksting in his vehicle form, his treads whirring quietly as he slowed to transform back to robot mode. He continues walking with the predacon, and greets him with a short wave.

“Hey,” he says. “So, uhhhh… whaddya think this whole thing’s about?”

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“Oh, hey Tripwire. I have no idea, but it better be something actually urgent because I was busy catching up on some sleep.” the predacon said as the two approached the grand building.

“Oh you too, huh?” Tripwire replies. “Well, I’m pretty sure it’s not just another safety briefing. I haven’t set anything on fire for a few weeks- pretty sure that’s a new record.”


Darksting chuckled as he clapped the Maximal on the back.
“That’s definitely a new record for you.” he said.
The two entered the town hall and took their seats just as Torchwing was about to make an announcement.

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Razorbite sat alone in his run-down little shack that constituted for a laboratory. He’d been up late, as usual, had no sleep, as usual, and now apparently an emergency meeting was taking place? He didn’t really care about the ‘emergency’ part of that, but the ‘meeting’ part had him terrified. Actual social interaction? It was something he’d only dreamt of in his worst nightmares.

Yes, the meeting was undoubtedly important, but was it important enough for him to actually leave his lab for anything other than supplies? As much as he hated to admit it, he knew the answer was yes, and so, as discreetly as possible, he transformed into his beast mode and slithered off to the hall, avoiding as many people as possible along his way.

As he approached the door he transformed once more, before silently entering. He scanned the room for the nearest seat before grabbing it and bringing it all the way to the back corner of the room. He sat down and tried for as long as he could to avoid making eye contact with anyone.


Tripwire took a seat near Darksting, just as Backbreaker and Hemorrhage come in behind them.

“Sorry we’re late,” Backbreaker says. “Hemorrhage wouldn’t give me a ride.”

“Because you weigh as much as a picket fighter and you’re perfectly capable of walking on your own, for which you’re very welcome.” Hemorrhage retorts.

“I dunno,” Backbreaker jokes, “left leg’s feeling a little lighter than it should. You sure you put everything back in right?”

Hemorrhage rolls his eyes and finds a seat near the front of the hall, while Backbreaker leans against a wall with his arms crossed under his chest.


Once everyone had taken a seat, Maximus addressed the restless crowd.
“Alright everybody! Settle down. I know you’re all busy, but this is important.”
The predacon’s tone was grimm and serious.

He took out a small recording device and placed it on the podium.
“This message was picked up by our long range communications this morning. There’s no real easy way to lead into this… But it’s something you all need to hear.”

He pressed a button on the device.

“Attention to all my decepticon followers. I, lord Megatron, have returned from the grave! Within but a day, I’ve already taken back the city of Kaon from the pathetic whelps who now call this world home. This is my call to action. Scattered though you are among the stars, you will return to Cybertron, and claim it as your rightful home. Together, under my flag, under my name, we will bring about a new age for Cybertron! The age, of Decepticons!”
The recording ended.

To any who had heard it before, the voice was unmistakable. It could be no one else, other than the decepticon tyrant himself.

Maximus spoke up again.
“This message was dated 17 years ago. It’s anyone’s guess what Cybertron looks like now.”

A long moment of silent passed, only for the meeting hall to quickly erupt in fury and panic.


Briefly, Hemorrhage looked as though he’d seen- or rather heard- a ghost. But he wipes the shock from his face and replaces it with a scowl.

“Oh, man,” Tripwire breathes, eyes wide. “That’s… that’s not good.”

Backbreaker stands up straight, his hands balled into fists. “Megatron’s been back for seventeen years and we’re just now finding out?” He asks, irate. “How the slag did we miss this?!”


Darksting turned to Tripwire and said,
“I’ve heard things about Megatron. If he’s back, Cybertron is in big trouble. And that recording was from 17 years ago, who knows what state it’s in now?! You’re right, this isn’t good.”


Timberjack went from arms crossed to a dropped stance between fight or flight. From mild curiosity to a blank expression of shock, trying to make sense of it all. The old war Megatron was before his time, but he heard enough recordings from the history books to recognize. At least, after identity was declared.

What?! HOW! That can’t be. . .

He starts running calculations. Timberjack knows quite well how long intergalactic communications can take to reach certain systems. So he was racing back through his memory, seeing when he was nearest to Cybertron last within the past seventeen years.

I haven’t been gone from Cybertron that long. Have I?

It is then Timberjack remembers that around seventeen years ago, his closest location would have taken five years to reach him. He had been a long way from home, but he still couldn’t believe it.

“N-no. That can’t be right. What of the Federation?! They would have sent word faster!”

His words were trembling, building into anger. Grinding his tongue, knowing all to well that even communication bouncing through ship courier still would have reached them too late.


“He’s a big purple dinosaur, right?” Direwolf asked, looking down at a small booklet in his hand.


“M-maybe the maximals stopped him,” Tripwire says. “A lot can happen in seventeen years, right? And how many deceptions are still online, anyway, let alone fit to fight?”

“Unless there is no Federation anymore,” Hemorrhage says.


Razorbite didn’t really know what to say. Megaton had been just before his time, but he’d heard enough about him to know the direness of the situation. He’d never really been one for words, so in the end he didn’t say anything and just continued to awkwardly stare forwards in shock.


“Wrong Megatron smelt-head.”
Snarked a nearby predacon.

Bluntforce stepped forward.
“Certain forms of communication takes a long time to travel through deep space. It very well could have taken longer.”
The predicon replied. While he was always a level headed individual who was able to take a practical look at things, it was clear that he too was struggling not to panic.

“Alright everybody, calm down.”
Maximus urged, trying and failing to regain the crowds attention.
“Everyone, please!”

Torchwing walked up to stand with his friends. He transformed into his ferocious dragon beast mode, and let out a bellowing roar. The loud noise did well to capture everyone’s attention.

Maximus said to Torchwing, then turned back to the others. Torchwing nodded and reverted to robot mode.

“Alright, I know this looks bad- no. This is bad. Really bad. But I don’t want you to panic. I’m going to do something about this.-”

“What the hell are you gonna do?”
Shouted someone from the crowd.

“I, along with my friends, are going to leave for Cybertron, and do everything we can to fight against Megatron.”

“What? That’s your plan?”
“That’s suicide!”
“You’re insane!”

Torchwing stepped forward, flames flaring off his body in anger.
“Yeah well nobody asked you!”

“Look, I get it. It’s crazy. But it’s what I have to do. I want- no. I need to go and do the right thing, just to make sure that somebody does. I’m not asking you to go. I’m not asking any of you. If you want to join, you’re welcome to. But if it’s just the four of us, then I’ll make do.”


Timberjack flashes Hemorrhage a look that says “shut up,” but doesn’t speak. He opens his mouth to retort with something, but then Torchwing screamed at them. In which he then turns his attention back to Maximus and his new announcement.

Just then, the group can hear something rocketing outside. It swiftly gets louder as it comes in, revealing it to be an odd and small space shuttle. Maximus, along with a few others, likely recognize Scuttle as it races to the platform. Though before it quite makes it, the spacecraft splits apart and the trio lands before their Predacon friend.

“Apologies for tardiness,” Railgun says as he stands up.

“Ran into some space debris.”

For those who don’t understand the Mini-Con tongue, it just comes off as noisy gibberish.

“You mean asteroid,” Machbreaker* pipes up, though Railgun ignores it.

“Wow. No volunteers? Might as well tell these losers a couple Mini-Cons are braver than them!” Tie-Grabber says with seething sarcasm, hoping he guessed right that Maximus already made the announcement.

*OOC: If it’s alright, Machbreaker and Tie-Grabber will just be here briefly in the intro before sendoff. Otherwise, I’ll redo the intro. Probably should have asked earlier.

Timberjack was left unsure what to think, unsure what to feel. This was a lot, he needed to process things. But he kept feeling that sparking tingling going up and down his back. That nervous energy when hesitating to do something. He couldn’t do anything about the Predacon Megatron before, but he could help now. The question was, should he?