"Something came up at Base Two," Alice explained briefly. "Also, our government contact, that high-ranking official Clarice, wants to see the Master. She didn't specify why, but she seemed urgent."
"I'll report it to the Master immediately," Black Panther replied, pacing toward her desk, his metallic nostrils venting a plume of white steam.
"Alice, you make the call on the logistics. The Master said Lord Megatron has been resurrected; we need to keep our heads down for a while."
Spending so much time in his beast mode had caused Black Panther to pick up certain predatory habits. Though he could transform into a humanoid form, he much preferred the freedom of running on four legs.
"Understood, Black Panther. I'll handle it."
Alaska: Base One, Laboratory.
[ Alice, tell her I accept. ]
Skygnaw replied quickly. Despite his confusion as to why Clarice had gone through Alice instead of contacting him directly, he was curious. It had been a while since their last exchange.
Stepping out of the lab, Skygnaw looked at Dirge, who was standing guard. Black Panther was away, so it was the Seeker's turn to pull sentry duty.
"Dirge, head to Base Two. Brawl has a human in custody named Lamarr. Bring him to me."
Aura Group's security division had a branch in the town of Pester, near Base Two, and they worked closely with Brawl. While Onslaught had left with the Constructicon clones, Skygnaw had kept Brawl behind as a heavy deterrent for the local facilities.
Upon receiving Alice's report, Skygnaw had already decided how to deal with the meddling agent: he would hand him over to Clarice. She had mentioned that the CIA had eyes on him once before; now the FBI was poking around. Neither agency was known for being easy to shake off.
"Yes, My Lord," Dirge replied, banking into the sky.
Skygnaw returned to the lab and stowed the Scepter of Retribution. He had spent weeks trying to reverse-engineer its principles, hoping to mass-produce weapon modules for his lieutenants. But whether it was his own lack of specialized technical data or the sheer complexity of the relic's ancient science, he remained stuck at the threshold. He could use it, but he couldn't replicate it.
He had finally decided to give up for now.
The Next Day: Southeast Alaska.
The meeting took place at the same secluded spot at the foot of the mountains near the border. The luxury motorcade was the same, but this time, Clarice found herself facing two titans instead of one.
"Mr. Skygnaw... who is this?" Clarice asked, her voice tight with nerves as she pointed at the towering Seeker behind him.
No human could remain composed when stared down by a cannon muzzle larger than their own head.
"Don't be tense, Madam," Skygnaw soothed, gesturing for Dirge to lower his weapons. "This is one of my subordinates, Dirge."
"Dirge..." Clarice whispered, her eyes returning to Skygnaw. She looked stunned.
Clarice didn't follow the inner workings of the Decepticons; that was NEST's job. She only knew that Megatron was the boss. In fact, she hadn't even recognized Skygnaw at first. When they first met, he was an Elite; now, he was a Commander-class warrior, standing nearly twice as tall and radiating a far more oppressive aura.
It had taken some convincing to keep her guards from opening fire. Though if they had, she would have been the one to suffer the consequences.
"Mr. Skygnaw, I came because I have questions regarding—"
"One moment, Madam," Skygnaw interrupted, tilting his head toward Dirge. "Dirge, give them the package."
Thud.
A brown burlap sack was tossed onto the dirt. A muffled, pained groan drifted from inside.
"What is this?" Clarice asked, eyeing the bag with curiosity.
"A little mouse who found a secret he shouldn't have and lacked the wisdom to keep his mouth shut," Skygnaw's mouth twisted into a mocking grin. "He overplayed his hand."
"Open it," Clarice ordered her lead security officer.
The officer signaled two guards. They stepped forward and sliced the ropes.
A bearded man's head emerged. It was Lamarr. He was covered in bruises and dressed only in a tattered coat, shivering violently in the biting Alaskan wind. It was clear that Aura Group's "interrogation" had been far more brutal than a simple chat over coffee.
"FBI..." Clarice muttered, seeing the badge pinned to his inner lapel. She understood immediately. Her brow furrowed, not out of pity for the man, but out of rage that someone had dared to jeopardize her partnership with Skygnaw.
"Take him away," Clarice commanded coldly.
"Mmph! Mmph!"
Tape was plastered over Lamarr's mouth. He struggled frantically as he saw Clarice. His eyes were wide, reflecting a shock even greater than seeing the alien robots. He had spent his life as a silent guardian of his country's laws, yet here was one of its leaders, deep in the wilderness, conspiring with the very monsters he was investigating.
His worldview shattered in that moment.
As he was dragged past Clarice, his eyes burned with a hatred so pure it was almost tangible, a silent scream of Why?
But individual justice is often a footnote in the ledger of collective interest—at least when the other side has the power of a Commander-class Decepticon.
Clarice waved a hand, and Lamarr was stuffed into the trunk of a security SUV. His fate was sealed.
"Now, Madam," Skygnaw said, turning back to her. "What was it you wanted to ask?"
Clarice glanced at Dirge, but realized Skygnaw wasn't going to dismiss his lieutenant. "I want to know who resurrected Megatron. And why?"
"It was me."
"What? You...?" Clarice froze, certain she had misheard.
"Yes, Madam. And for the record, the fleet patrolling the Laurentian Abyss? I took care of them too."
Clarice had heard whispers of the fleet's destruction, though the military had clamped down hard on the news to avoid a national panic. But hearing it from the source was a different matter entirely.
"Skygnaw... why? Why would you bring him back? Do you have any idea—"
"Watch your tone, Madam."
Skygnaw leaned down, his optics flashing with a dangerous light. Clarice looked like the picture of elegance in her expensive designer coat, her face meticulously maintained to hide her age. But at this moment, she looked very small.
"I... I apologize, Mr. Skygnaw. I didn't mean—"
"Believe it or not, I'm a peace-loving Decepticon," Skygnaw lied with a straight face. "I find violence quite distasteful. Resurrecting Megatron was an order from someone even more powerful than him—someone I cannot disobey. His name is The Fallen. He is the founder of our race, and he is our true sovereign now."
Skygnaw didn't mind giving her a few scraps of intel. She'd find out soon enough. The whole world would.
"The Fallen?" Clarice looked up. "How strong is he? Compared to Optimus Prime or Megatron?"
"It's hard to quantify," Skygnaw mused. "But based on history, he is a warrior who has lived for millions of years. He could defeat them both with ease."
"Millions of years..." Clarice trailed off, lost in thought.
"Madam," Skygnaw changed the subject abruptly. "I hear your husband, Mr. Homanton, is making quite a push for that big office in Washington."
Clarice snapped back to attention, her eyes wary. "Yes. But what is that to you?"
"Then allow me to congratulate you in advance," Skygnaw smiled, his expression unreadable.
The next time he saw Clarice, he'd likely be calling her 'First Lady.' According to the timeline, Megatron would return soon, followed by The Fallen. Another war was coming, one more intense than Mission City. And when the dust settled, someone would have to take the blame for the destruction.
And someone else would be there to "lead" the recovery.
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