Chapter Text
MASK
The barren wasteland of Charr stretched out for miles beneath the Thunder Arrow’s shadow. Only the moons and the stars brought light to the abandoned and desolate Decepticon City, built in the times of Galvatron, left to rot the moment Galvatron had met his end. The ruins were completely wrung out of old supplies, leaving only the crumbling remains themselves to be seen.
Deathsaurus hadn’t come here for the same reason Galvatron had. His Empire wasn’t in so sorry a state that the Decepticons once again had to lie in pathetic exile, scrounging for scraps and meager drips of energon. No— there was something very specific he’d come here for.
Since the planet was abandoned, many rumours and frightening stories had emerged from the inherent eeriness that ruined cities brought. Stories of the lingering traces of the Hate Plague soaking into the cracked earth, or the restless souls of the Old Decepticons looming in the shadows. (Starscream’s ghost was the most common story told.)
But when Kakuryu asked, Goryu told the story Deathsaurus had in mind: the story of the Decepticon Justice Division.
“It’s this squad of hitmen that Megatron commissioned. They had some nasty weapons, stuff like built-in grinders and smelters and all kinds of terrible things. But— nobody knows if it was ‘cause they got bored of Autobots and started attacking other Decepticons for fun, or if Megatron himself got threatened by them— they were locked up deep underground and put in stasis.”
“The story I heard was that they rejected Galvatron when he appeared on Charr,” Doryu added. “And tried to kill him for ‘impersonating’ Megatron.”
“No, no, I think they were imprisoned sooner than that,” Yokuryu said. “I think Starscream ordered it, so that they wouldn’t oppose his rule.”
“That’s so scary!” Kakuryu exclaimed. “Is that true?”
“The Emperor seems to think so,” Leozack said. “They’re what we’re here to find.”
The Thunder Arrow landed in the middle of the abandoned city, and his crew filed out— Leozack, and the Dinoforce. The rest of the Breastforce were temporarily under the command of Esmeral and Lyzack on Earth until Deathsaurus could return with his intended prize.
Deathsaurus transformed into his beast mode and activated his sensor suite. For the most part, there was little to smell and little to scan. He knew it was there— he’d managed to get confirmation from Soundwave, although the spymaster had by this point retired as the last vestiges of the earliest Decepticons’ rule. So he kept looking regardless, and told his people to do the same.
The last time anyone had been on Charr had been when the Dinoforce were born. Deathsaurus had picked them up as a fledgling commander, and wouldn’t be passed command of the Breastforce until Sixshot’s defection. Overlord had tried to force Deathsaurus to take the planet as a base, but he’d refused to be undignified with a worthless planet of scrap metal.
Just as well that Overlord had been defeated, just like every other past Decepticon leader. Now Deathsaurus stood as their most powerful, and their only leader. But even still, he couldn’t forget that the leaders of old had left some hidden gems in the most unlikely places.
He finally found something in the depths of one of the old factories. At first, he’d not noticed it, but eventually he realized there was a small draft beneath the primary assembly line. It would have been easy to dismiss as being from outside through the broken walls if the air wasn’t so still and stale on this planet, and secondly, if the breeze weren’t from beneath him.
Deathsaurus pawed at the floor until one of the tiles came loose. Underneath, he could see the top corner of a hatch. Grinning to himself, he activated his comms: “Decepticons, to me. I’ve found them.”
The hatch lead to a dark tunnel. The black abyss audibly yawned musky air, blowing dust into the open. Deathsaurus transformed back into his robot mode and activated his low-light vision, peering further down beyond the stairs. Or rather, he tried— the descent was too far to see past the staircase. If this was where the DJD were indeed buried, Megatron— or whomever had decided to waste the resources to lock away powerful Decepticons like these— had buried them deeply.
Kakuryu could only look at the tunnel from over Goryu’s shoulder, just barely peeking his visor into view. “It’s so dark down there,” he whimpered. Glancing around at his fellows, he asked: “So who’s supposed to go down there first?”
Deathsaurus scoffed. “There’s nothing down there but Decepticons in stasis. Follow me.”
Leozack was the first to obey that command, though Deathsaurus could smell the anxiety off of him. Him and the Dinoforce, not that it was a surprise— he was sure that the Decepticons that had facilitated the latters’ creation had loaded them up with scary stories to teach them obedience. Not that it had entirely worked on Goryu.
And as for Leozack… Considering his conspiratorial nature, Deathsaurus wouldn’t be surprised if the DJD would be the thing that finally killed Leozack’s ambitions for good. Second-in-command or not, and regardless of his leadership over the Breastforce, if the DJD were as powerful as they were said to be, Leozack would be a fool to challenge them.
In particular, as they walked through the facility, Deathsaurus decided to tell a bit more of the story.
“Have you heard the stories about the leader of the Decepticon Justice Division in particular, Goryu?” Deathsaurus asked.
Goryu made a face and shook his head. “Er, can’t say I have, sir.”
“There’s something that makes him very special indeed.” Deathsaurus made note of the very faint smell of long-extinguished embers within the door they were passing and moved on. “His name is Tarn. His signature is the mask he wears on his face— a mask in the shape of the Decepticon symbol. He has weapons not unlike Megatron’s, except more. A double cannon, a tank alt mode with unmatched firepower. But he doesn’t need any of that to kill.”
“H-he doesn’t?”
Deathsaurus grinned a little. “They say all he has to do to kill his enemies is to get in close and whisper to them. Weaponized Conversation, the legend says; a gentle tone brings the victim to their knees. A soft murmur paralyzes them in place. And when his voice drops so low that he’s barely audible, their spark fizzles out like a candle in the wind.”
He could hear Goryu shudder, and the rest of the Dinoforce letting out muffled whines of fear.
“That’s an exact quote from the report you got from Soundwave, isn’t it?” Leozack asked.
“Yeah. And speaking of which… we’re here.”
Here was a lone door at the very end of the hallway, an ominous red glow surrounding its frame and the keypad on the right side. Deathsaurus pulled up a note as he inputted the password. One of the lights, which were supposed to have come on when they first arrived, flickered and sparked overhead. Deathsaurus paid it no mind as it startled half of the Dinoforce.
Beyond that door was finally revealed the chamber in which the Decepticon Justice Division’s leader lay in stasis, in a pod at the far back of the room. The main lights still failed to illuminate, but the machines assuring life support and inducing the mech’s coma were alive and thrumming. They provided the only visibility in the room, leaving only the mech shrouded by fogged glass to be seen.
Kakuryu slowly approached the pod, uttering a very small “Hello…?” as he padded up to it. He reached up and wiped the fog off of the glass, to be greeted with vibrant red eyes peering through a Decepticon mask.
He yelped and scrambled back. “H-he’s awake!” He cried.
“Not yet, he isn’t.” Deathsaurus got a look for himself, wiping away more of the fog.
The mask itself provided the glow. Deathsaurus could see, if he looked very closely, that Tarn’s eyes behind them were closed. There was a hint of bare circuitry on one side of his face; powerful tank treads composed his shoulders, and his biolights smouldered with the colour of energon. Oh, he looked every inch the killer Deathsaurus was promised.
He couldn’t wait to meet him.
“Leozack, deactivate the stasis pod and release him,” Deathsaurus ordered.
Leozack did as he was told, although there was a moment of pause before Deathsaurus heard the tapping of keys and switches. The temperature within the pod regulated as the stasis fluid drained out of it with a loud rumble, revealing Tarn completely. At Tarn’s sides, Deathsaurus could see his clawed hands twitch.
Only a fool would have a single plan in mind to reach his end goal. Reactivating his fortress would always be Deathsaurus’ priority, but when it came to killing Star Saber, he couldn’t rely on such a thing. No— ideally, he needed Star Saber dead before he reactivated his fortress. After all, the Autobots alone couldn’t stop him from draining Earth of its energy.
But for that, it was clear that his current army was insufficient. Leozack and the Breastforce had failed time and time again, and that was no longer acceptable; especially now that God Ginrai had been upgraded into Victory Leo. Greatshot had grown in rank amongst the Autobots. Deathsaurus needed an elite force of his own to match them, if not tear them down into their components.
There were many tales of old that suggested potential fixes— rumours of Unicron’s decapitated head whispering promises, for example. But none of them wore so much promise as the DJD, to Deathsaurus’ mind. Not only were so many stories easily falsified and exaggerated, but they could have a terrible consequence. He wasn’t stupid enough to risk himself on a whim. The DJD were a safe, yet worthy, investment.
The DJD were powerful, but they could also be handled. Especially if he only woke Tarn up first. Get him in line… and then let the rest of the DJD follow Tarn into loyalty.
And the thought of Star Saber’s last breath, stolen from his vents by nothing more than a whisper… Deathsaurus placed his hopes eagerly on the one in the mask.
WINGS
Tarn’s systems were slow to come online. At first, he dared wonder if he was dreaming again— of waking up in this hellish facility, him and his DJD freed by (insert failure on the part of Starscream, drones, Autobots, etc. here…) and allowed to live again. In these dreams, he was never quite decided on whether his first target would be Megatron for locking him away, or Optimus Prime for being the cause of it. Time melted his imagination into colours and sounds over a span of time he couldn’t begin to be sure of.
His only solid memories at this point were those of his imprisonment to begin with: of the triple-changers pushing him and his DJD along, each DJD member being shoved into a separate room within the facility. Vos… Tesarus… Helex, and then Kaon. Tarn himself was saved for last, and although Starscream wanted the pleasure of putting Tarn away, Megatron had refused him.
Tarn had dared to beg, even as his consciousness slipped away from him and he fell fast into a forced coma: Please, Megatron, forgive me. I won’t do it again, I promise you! Please, release me!
His first affirmation that he wasn’t dreaming came when he was awash in a terrible cold. His body had acclimated to the stasis fluid and now that it was gone, he found himself shivering. Opening his eyes, he knew for sure that he was awake when he saw a face he didn’t recognize— with four vivid red eyes, two of them mounted on a beaked helm. Who was this?
Before his body had regained control of itself, the stasis pod slid open with an exhaust of cold smoke. No longer held in place, Tarn fell and stumbled out of the pod— and into the arms of the stranger. As Tarn’s vision flooded momentarily with distressed static, he grew aware of something large and warm being wrapped around his shoulders.
He didn’t register what it was— instead, Tarn raised his head and glowered at the frightened Decepticons in the room. One, a jet at the controls— the other five a batch of beastformers who scrambled away from his glare and huddled together.
“Welcome back, Tarn,” his benefactor purred into his audial.
Tarn felt more of his systems return to life. The mech helped him to his feet, and Tarn realized that the warmth he was enclosed in was that mech’s wing. Another beastformer, he guessed, but he couldn’t imagine what sort of creature he transformed into. Some sort of dragon?
He found his voxcoder slowest of all to return. Tarn slowly raised a hand to his throat, delicately running his fingers across the cables that held up his head. He wanted to ask who he had to thank for his revival— but his mouth couldn’t form the words.
“Ah. Still rebooting, are you?” the beastformer asked. “I’m sure you’re very confused.”
Tarn turned his eyes towards him. Unlike his (apparent) underlings, this person showed no fear towards Tarn. Rather, instead, he appeared delighted to see him. He had large fangs, sharp teeth… teeth like a violent predator. Yet, Tarn dared not pull away, because there was something very alluring about him as well.
It might have been the strength with which he was able to help Tarn remain upright. Or it might have been the warmth of that wing shielding him from the cold of the stasis fluid.
“I am Deathsaurus,” the beastformer said, “the Emperor of Destruction and leader of the Decepticons.”
That seemed to help Tarn recalibrate. His first thought was that’s impossible— but then he remembered, he had no way of knowing how long he had been out. Was it likely, then, that he had been gone so long that everything had changed?
He found his voxcoder and forced it to work. “And Megatron…?”
“Is dead.” Deathsaurus grinned as he gave this revelation. “The Decepticon leadership has changed hands a few times since his day, and now it belongs to me.”
Dead.
Tarn had no idea what to feel about that, not after he had spent so long removed from the war, from everything, at Megatron’s decision; all because Starscream had convinced him that Tarn and the DJD were a threat to his goals. His passing dreams about potential revenge fell flat when he realized that they would only prove Starscream’s accusations correct, when Tarn wanted neither control nor authority. He wanted to serve.
Tarn’s loyalties were to the Decepticon Cause and to that before all else. Megatron had never been convinced. Looking into Deathsaurus’ eyes, Tarn saw none of that hesitation nor distrust.
If Deathsaurus was indeed now the leader of the Decepticons, did that mean that he saw use for Tarn, enough to bring him out of stasis?
He found that his body was more willing to respond to him now, aided by his benefactor. Tarn supported himself on his own feet, steadily removing himself from Deathsaurus’ grasp— much as he didn’t want to leave the shelter of his wing, he didn’t dare appear weak in front of the new leader. Deathsaurus allowed it, though remaining close and seeming pleased.
“If that is the case… I thank you, my Lord, for freeing me.” Tarn gave Deathsaurus a respectful bow. “What of the rest of my Justice Division?”
Deathsaurus grinned wider before answering the question. “It’s been a long time that you’ve been out, Tarn. I want you on board on a trial basis— if you’re exactly as you were rumoured to be, we’ll gladly come back to restore the rest of your DJD. Else— well, to be clear, I don’t expect there to be an else. Your Weaponized Conversation is based on fact, is it not?”
Tarn’s eyes brightened their glow. “Of course. Do you need me to demonstrate?”
The gaggle of beastformers screamed and clung to one another in a pile. The jet at the controls visibly stiffened.
Deathsaurus laughed.
“Oh, I won’t have you demonstrate on these ones. Not unless they get uppity, of course.” Deathsaurus shot a look at the jet in particular upon saying this before turning back to Tarn. “I’m bringing you back to Earth with me, and I’d like you to demonstrate on the current Autobot leader.”
“I assume… if Megatron is no longer among us, then Optimus Prime has also died?”
“That’s right. These days, the Autobots are lead by my nemesis, Supreme Commander Star Saber.”
Tarn had not heard the name before. It piqued his interest— who could possibly match up to the likes of Optimus, enough to rise in the ranks and take his place? Megatron’s fall, Tarn could understand completely… but Optimus’ fall, somehow, felt more of a surprise. He’d always seemed so infallible, and that had been exactly what Tarn had hated about him.
Of course, if Optimus was no longer his enemy, slain by someone else, then that meant Tarn had much more of a chance of making a full demonstration of his power on this Star Saber. He said as much to Deathsaurus: “Only Optimus has survived my voice at its full power. I almost fear you will lack use for me quickly, my Lord.”
“Oh, you are something, indeed.” Deathsaurus patted Tarn on the shoulders, giving attention to his cowering Decepticons before giving the order to return to their ship. He told Tarn: “Come, I’d like to speak with you along the way to Earth. It might help to warm up that voxcoder of yours before the mission…”
There was a lot Tarn was missing from his stasis. He was disappointed to be without his DJD for a length of time— the lot of them were his friends just as much as they were his subordinates. But he also knew that he would follow the Decepticons, wherever its new wings would fly them.
And such beautiful wings they were.