Transformers: Prime: Web of Shadows

Chapter 4: Terror on the Moon

"Feeding?" Optimus echoed.

"On the moon's very structure," Ratchet replied grimly. "It's devouring the rock molecule by molecule."

Through the viewport, the dark substance shifted—slowly, deliberately. The moon's surface cracked, and something beneath it moved. A ripple of motion passed through the black ocean of goo, and smoke poured outward in great plumes, blotting out the stars.

Then, a whisper broke over the comms.

"...Optimus..."

It was faint—metallic, distorted—and familiar.

"Who is this?" Optimus demanded. "Identify yourself."

"...Autotrooper...Delta-4... we tried to burn it... it heard us..."

The voice broke into static, followed by a distant shriek—half machine, half something else.

Ratchet's optics widened. "That transmission's coming from inside the moon!"

Before they could react, the black smoke thickened, swirling like a storm. From its depths emerged the twisted wreckage of a ship—the remains of one of their own fleets—drifting and dripping with black slime.

And then, it moved.

The corpse of the ship twitched. Tendrils of darkness slithered along its hull, pulling the broken vessel toward them. From within, something knocked against the glass. Something that used to be Autobot.

"By the Allspark..." Orionus murmured. "It's using them."

Optimus reached for the hilt of the Star Saber, the ancient blade shimmering faintly in the gloom. "Prepare all ships," he ordered. "Activate shields and weaponry. Whatever this darkness is—it will not consume another world."

As the blackened moon began to pulse with unholy life, the void around it seemed to breathe. The infection spread—tendrils unfurling like veins across the stars—hungering for metal, for spark, for Cybertron itself.

And in that silent, haunted dark, something vast stirred.

Something that watched them back.

"Optimus... what monstrosity is this?!" Orionus Prime's voice trembled with both fury and dread.

"I do not know," Optimus replied, optics narrowing as the blackened fragments of the moon twisted and pulsed around them. "Something—or someone—has poisoned this moon..."

"With Dark Energon, I'm assuming?!" Orionus snapped, gripping his weapon tighter as the shadowed tendrils crawled across the drifting debris like veins through dying flesh.

Before Optimus could respond, the darkness began to move.

From the husks of ships caught in orbit, the Autotroopers began to rise. Their optics—once bright blue—now burned a deep, infernal violet. Their armor was slick with black ooze, pulsing like living tissue. The goo and smoke that had consumed them now animated them.

They were no longer soldiers.

They were Terrorcons.

Their movements were jerky, unnatural—like marionettes tugged by invisible strings. The air filled with guttural growls, metallic and wet.

Optimus's voice thundered through the comms. "Autobots! Decepticons! Activate shields and weaponry immediately!"

The fleet burst into coordinated motion. Cannons roared, plasma fire streaked through the void. But even under the barrage, the Terrorcons pressed forward, undeterred, their bodies absorbing the energy blasts as if the darkness itself devoured the attacks.