Scene 7:

Csirac was being escorted amid Razorclaw’s entourage through the Predacon facility. Bots were in reverence of their leader, but sneered or smiled at Csirac, perhaps wishing to rip his optics out themselves. Csirac was shoved forward to walk beside Razorclaw, who looked down at him.

“You Maximals never created a working combiner?” Razorclaw asked.

Csirac didn’t know if this was considered passing information on to the enemy, but with his current company, it didn’t seem optional.

“We never tried. Our focus was getting the basic technology to work. Maybe if we had a bit more time before you blew up the Earth…” Csirac couldn’t stop himself from saying it, it’d just slipped out, but Razorclaw simply laughed.

“It was a brutal planet - had been from its beginning and was until its end. My Predacon brothers and I felt more at home there than most Decepticons. So don’t think for a cycle that I don’t regret its destruction.” Razorclaw had bitterness in his voice - genuine remorse for the planet? Or perhaps from the mention of his four fallen brothers - the original Predacons: Divebomb, Rampage, Tantrum and Headstrong.

“What you’re about to see, no Maximal has set their optics upon, nor will any after you.”

The entourage decreased in number as Razorclaw and Csirac entered a well protected chamber. Inside was something Csirac could never have expected.

“Rampage and Tantrum are lost to me - but the Sparks of Headstrong and Divebomb still pulse!”

The chamber held two huge cylinders, each holding a battle-damaged form, surrounded by a fluid, and connected to all manner of cables.

“The Autobots believe them dead, and I’m happy to let them.” Csirac approached the cylinder containing the tattered body of Divebomb. “But the battlefield will shake once again at the sight of PREDAKING!”