Transformers: Primed To Fall

Chapter Eleven

So why did Alpha Trion have the sensation of foreboding regarding invasion amidst all his joy? Was it because he secretly knew who had really created the Quintessons? Or was another threat entirely on its way? He hoped not, for now Cybertron was in the throes of celebration unlike any it had ever known or would know again. What would go wrong?

* * *

The large black-and-red shuttle drifted through space as fast as it was able. The Fallen was at the throttle, cursing the fact that his vessel was not fast enough. But he had his reasons. There was a massive load of what he had decided to call the Dark Energon in his hull. But it was taking too long. He had spent centuries leaving Cybertron, so he had been bound to take quite a long time to return. And he needed to operate his ship manually, which made the arduous journey all the more infuriating.

Patience, he thought to himself. Resist the siren's call of the Dark Energon. You have the will of a warrior, and you can control yourself. And with an extraordinary amount of willpower, he had refrained from giving in to the temptation of the gross substance. It was all in due time that the opportunity would come.

And that time was soon, seeing as he had finally entered the solar system in which Cybertron resided. When he returned, he hoped to find a world where the Thirteen were merely legends, where the people lived independently and under a false sense of security that they were their own masters. Hopefully, they would be still be nearly as primitive as when he had left them, ripe for giving up their freedom to one they once thought legend. And he would show them the image of the wrath of a god.

Using Dark Energon. With it, he would be able to single-handedly rule his miserable home. A fallen world for a Fallen Prime. He was going to make sure everyone on Cybertron felt the way he had. Downtrodden. Hated. Miserable. It served them right, seeing as it was this world that had caused him so much pain. With the Blood of Unicron, he would fortify his look as a deity even further. He could just imagine coming from the sky in a ball of fire, a crashing meteor that only shrugged off the pain of impact. The image sounded exciting. He pushed the ship to its maximum capacity, which had been enhanced ever since he had fueled it on Dark Energon.

But he had noticed a flaw. Seeing as Unicron was a being of chaos, his blood seemed to have a detrimental effect on anything. The Fallen felt that while it made him immensely physically durable, it was slowly breaking down his mind, his sanity, and his sense of emotion. It practically made him feel sick to the stomach, and the conflicting effects made him both loathe the Dark Energon and want it more.

And so, his very starship seemed to also be dysfunctional. It was greatly increased in speed, yet slow to respond on its computers. Its weapon's system was erratic, constantly firing for no reason. The engines would occasionally burn out. The Fallen decided that he would not use Dark Energon more than he needed to.

Which would be soon. As he decreased his ship's speed, he could see an orb out in space, growing ever larger to his sight. It was a sight he had not hoped to see in quite a long time. But he knew he would have to return, sooner or later. It was the enormous sphere of greatness that had supposedly once been the body of Primus himself. The Fallen himself could not actually prove such rumors. He was not old enough to know what came before the existence of his homeworld. He had always assumed that he and his brethren had been formed synonymously with it.

His thoughts of when it formed drifted in his head as he absently flew his shuttle forward. "What a sight for weary optics you are," he muttered. He could feel the ship shudder, as if agreeing with him. Then he realized that he was personifying his own shuttle. He had obviously spent way too much time in isolation.

He needed more of the Dark Energon. Patience, he chided himself as he looked back at the large pile of violet-colored crystals in the back. Not until he was right over the surface would he use it. He shook his head, trying to shake off his weariness. Burning more of that Dark Energon within his veins would give him the start he needed, just as he would need to start his dominance with an example -- such as a mass genocide. That would certainly frighten many into submission. But he didn't want to underestimate these Cybertronians. They were much more evolved that he had first known them to be.