Disclaimer: I do not own transformers, only this crack-filled plot

Partially inspired by the awesome story Optimus, Ant King.


Babble broke out in the Council chambers, variations in topic ranging from who would p-w-n in the next gladiatorial matches, to when the next hired hacker would hack the Grid, and how many drinks Alpha Trion would need to give his consent to the newest law, whatever it was about.

Ultra Magnus slammed his hammer to the ground, causing a small burst of lightning burst up out from the weapon and hit a light fixture. The Magnus chuckled. And looked up at the charred spot on the ceiling. Charred. Charr.

That reminded him.

Silence had fallen in the Council chambers. The Council members looked at the Magnus, figurehead he might be, but he did have the weapon.

"We have a problem," the Magnus said, still looking up at the damage on the ceiling.

"Well?" Senator Ratbat asked.

Ultra Magnus coughed. "Well, the glorified gladiator team which calls themselves Team Charr has just blown up Eighteen Lasers, whatever that is. It's important. Now what do we do about this?"

Blaster, head of Cybertron Intelligence, coughed.

"You're the boss," he said gently. "You're the one who's supposed to think of these ideas."

"I am not," the Magnus replied, glancing under his podium, where a store of high-grade was kept. He was getting thirsty. "I am a figurehead leader guys. You make the tough decisions, I just stand around and look noble and ready-to-have-my-arm-lopped-off like some petty demon. Or Decepticon."

Alpha Trion coughed, wanting him to get to the point. It was the second cough of the day.

"Sorry. See what I mean. If I were a true leader, you'd all be offering my utmost sympathies at why I might have my arm cut off!"

At once the Council put away their secret energon stores and began comforting their 'leader'.

"It won't happen, we won't let any undercover Decepticons get in!"

"We have paranoid Cybertronians to look out for you!"

"At least, it's not like, your brother who'll cut you arm off. That would suck."

Ultra Magnus thought of his younger brother, Orion, who had sadly gone offline when Team Charr had wrecked Vos. Ultra Magnus had taken…er, inherited…his handheld game, Medal of Honour. Orion already had gotten the Medal.

Then he thought of his adopted brother, Shockwave, who had a major personality disorder and walked around calling himself Longarm.

"My tragic future aside, what are we going to do about Eighteen Lasers and Team Charr?"

Halogen turned off his handheld game.

"We should terminate the rest of the gladiators, sir. They might decide to rise up against us. Like, majorly."

"Good idea," the Magnus said, wondering how the plan would affect the Council's approval ratings, and how Cybertronians would handle the change. The popularity of the games would probably kill that proposal. The Magnus himself had a bet riding on the victory of Runamuck against Runabout.

"Er," Hoist muttered. "We could've made sure Eighteen Lasers wasn't constructed out of the most flimsy materiel in the sector—moist energon blocks used in Academy experiments for the fastest deteroriation possible." Hoist was the spokesbot for the Construction (often misspelled ConstructiCON) aspect of Cybertron.

"Uh-huh. Cliffjumper, take note of that." Cliffjumper, who wouldn't rise in the ranks until never, complied.

"Anything else?" the boss asked. The Council twittered nervously, anxious to get out and end the session. A gladiatorial match would be on soon.

"We could build a big weapon." Ratbat advised, looking down. "One that could incinerate planets. And the codes needed to brainwash it could be stored in a femme that has no purpose than to be captured and rescued. And put into stasis for millions of years. And be captured by an undercover agent. And rescued by a heroic bot, because having her join the Decepticons would make parents, or soccer moms angry; as would simply slaughtering her."

Blaster glanced over to see the Senator reading from a hot-pink datapad – Perceptor's own fashion statement. The junior science officer probably wanted to build a big bot.

Blaster informed the Council of this. Ratbat, instead of looking ashamed, looked pleased with himself. The issue was on the stand, and there were only five more cycles until break.

Ultra Magnus yawned and stretched, making another bolt of lightning fire and hit Halogen's game. The bot grumbled under his breath as he looked at the wreckage of his new game.

"The issue of building a big robot who will be programmed to do nothing but-" the Magnus pointed to a rookie soldier.

"BAM! POW!" Warpath shouted and randomly disappeared.

"And be nice to us good guys?"

"Aye!" the loudmouthed Council members Ratbat and Halogen shouted.

"All against?"

"Aye!" everyone else said.

The Magnus frowned. It was supposed to be unanimous. All 'ayes' or all 'nays'.

He told the Council that, just as the bell for break rang out. A great flurry of imaginary dust flew up as the Council trampled each other in a hurry to get away from the room.


Ultra Magnus had spent the last two cycles of break actually reading the rule book of Council Rulezzzzz, the codebook by which all meetings abode. The book was covered in dust. Its pages were yellowed with age, and refused to open.

And in the book, what to do if votes were not unanimous, the answer was not found.

When the session was called back to order, the Magnus had a solution. Since he was a figurehead, he knew he wasn't supposed to come up with new ideas. But he had a good one.

"Moderator," he ordered. "Contact the Space Bridge Nexus."

Blaster raised his hand, like he wanted attention. Ultra Magnus acknowledged.

"We don't have a Space Bridge Nexus."

"Coming through," the monitor said. His name was Leader-1, if you were interested. He was also an undercover agent for Megatron.

The screen fizzed with static before the image cleared, revealing a purple bot with one yellow optic lounging in a chair drinking energon and tapping a button over and over again.

"Sir?" Leader-1 asked. There really was no Space bridge Nexus, as far as any bot in the room knew.

The Council had quickly become bored with the purple bot tapping the same button which did nothing. They went back to drinking, playing games, and in one case, attempting to write the future.

As if he knew he was being watched, the strange purple bot turned and stared at them.

"Autobots."

"Contact!" Alpha Trion cheered, snapping pictures as he looked up from his 'tablet' of the future.

The unknown bot stood and aimed a gun, which was also his left arm (the Magnus remembered his own arm-less future) and fired. The blast smacked the floor, but did not hit the screen.

"How did you get this frequency?" the bot snarled, trying (and failing) to hit the screen. After another moment, he stopped, because Megatron might need that screen for another evil scheme.

"Can—you—understand—us?" Alpha Trion asked loudly, enunciating every letter, as if the bot hadn't already spoken.

The purple bot turned his head to one side.

"I've spoken to you, haven't I?"

"Well, yes…"

"Shockwave?" Ultra Magnus asked, seeing some sort of familial resemblance between this bot and his insane adopted brother. If this bot's name was Longarm, he would join Slaughter City.

"Where did you get this frequency?" he repeated.

"Answer him moderator," Blaster prompted.

Leader-1 chuckled nervously.

"It was actually a made-up set of numbers."

Shockwave (as he would now be known as) slammed right hand on the console.

"Numbers are not made up! They are logic, how the universe works!"

Halogen and Ratbat began playing their respective handheld games as Blaster, Hoist, Ultra Magnus, and Alpha Trion tried to get the bot to tell them where he was.

"Cybertron you fools!"

Blaster wondered if the energon Shockwave had been drinking was high-grade.

"Where on Cybertron?" Hoist asked.

"Iacon you foolish Autobots! Every cadet knows where I am! Screw secret bases! I AM GOVERNOR!"

The door burst open on impact and in flew a hot silver-purple-black-red-yellow jet. Because this jet was special and could come in any color he or she wanted to. Note: the seeker was not damaged from crashing into a missle-proof door.

The jet transformed, revealing it to be a femme seeker, even though…well never mind.

"I have the answer!" she crowed, as if her brilliant processor could think of a solution to the problem. Whatever the problem was.

" See," the femme said. "I was once a teenaged girl, which doesn't make sense, because Earth probably hasn't even been created yet. But anyway, I was either depressed or happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and something happened to me and made me like this, and now I'm the object of desire from Shockwave, Soundwave, Megatron, Prowl, Jazz, Optimus, and Starscream! And let's not forget I'm nearly invincible and don't need to get battle damage or anything. And let's not forget my bfffffffffae, who was also turned into a seeker like me. Because seekers are generally renowned by the fanbase as the most attractive forms there are, possibly due in part to generic Thundercrackers and seekers in 'The Ultimate Dooms'. I could not be turned into a groundpounder, because that just doesn't seem hawt enough. Yeah?"

"Who's Soundwave?" Blaster asked. He didn't sound like very respectable bot.

"Wait," Alpha Trion said, exhibiting newfound wisdom after meeting someone stranger than him. "This…bot said Megatron desired her. If we were to take advantage of that, like take her hostage for a while, couldn't Megatron be persuaded to call a ceasefire to this whole terrorism act?"

"But that's against the Autobot Code!" Ratbat interjected. He was getting paid to uphold the Code after all. Well, not really. But some bot had to stand up for duty and HUMANITY!

"I think indoctrinating a sentient weapon, filming students running off to organic planets, and keeping soldiers in stasis lock for millions of stellar cycles are also against the Code," Blaster added.

"Point taken."

"Warpath, Leader-1," the Magnus ordered, wanting to see the next gladiator match (Acid Storm versus Scavenger). "Arrest the femme for high treason."

"This isn't according to plan!" the femme shrieked, waving her hands as she ejected multiple cassettes and elements like fire and ice and wind flew out of her hands and mouth.

"I was supposed to become the bondmate of them, not a prisoner!" puffs of fire spurted out of her mouth when she said that. Nonplussed, Warpath and Leader-1 quickly knocked her out, despite her karate training with a nine-time black belt aikido, karate, judo, MMA martial arts master and pepper spray from her teenaged years.

As the seeker was dragged out, Ultra Magnus called for order.

"Alright. We have a vote. All in favor of holding the femme hostage until Megatron gives in?"

"Aye!" the Council shouted.

"All against?"

"Nay!"

"Council adjourned!"

The new flood resulted in bots tripping over their own feet to get out.

As the dust settled Ultra Magnus sighed and flopped down to watch the next match. Unfortunately, he let go of the hammer, and it let out another jolt of lightning, knocking out the power of all Iacon. So, he got up ad went to fight a war.

-fin