Transformers: Misplaced Allegiance

I've always wondered why Grimlock initially chose to ally himself with the Decepticons... what sort of argument Megatron would use to persuade him. Well, I guess the answer is all too obvious. They share the philosophy of might makes right. I've decided to write my own interpretation of the events never told. In this multi-part story, I have taken a few liberties with Cybertron's geography. For me, it was a necessary evil, and one I hope will not detract too much from the story. My writing style seems to favor heavily descriptive narrative, but my writing skills (if indeed I ever had any) have atrophied from lack of use. Hence, it may seem long-winded and redundant in places. For that, I apologize in advance, but without further adieu:



TRANSFORMERS: MISPLACED ALLEGIANCE



CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION



Cybertron: Antebellum



Haven rested in the border regions of western Kaon, far removed from the capital city of Kolkular. It was a lawless region,
home to mostly criminals and cutthroats, a place where few civilians dared to venture. It was not always so, for Haven
was once a thriving community bustling with commerce, where marketplaces full of internationally traded goods sat on
either side of the frequently travelled highways. Over the years however, numerous border skirmishes and trade embargoes
stemmed the flow of commercial goods into the region. Haven lacked the domestic resources to sustain itself, and thus, the
economy soon collapsed.



After Haven's economical implosion, most of the city's residents moved away, migrating either to the interior of Kaon or to
the neighboring nations of Vos and Tarn. The denizens who remained were mostly an unsavory lot, and Haven soon became
a hotbed of criminal activity. Kaon's ruling class was well aware of the surge in illegal operations within their borders, but since
the area no longer held any real value for the current administration, they were content in turning a blind eye to it, so long
as it remained isolated to the relatively small sector of Kaon's overall geography. As such, security patrols were rarely
dispatched to police the city, turning Haven into a popular haunt for those seeking solace from local law enforcement. It also
made Haven the perfect base of operations for Megatron's clandestine meetings, a locale virtually ignored from the prying
eyes of Kolkular.



A multi-story building, larger by half than the remaining structures around it, loomed over the landscape... its stark and
delapidated features only slightly better than that of its neighbors. Once, in Haven's golden years, the building had served
as a troop barracks for Kaon's Western Armies. Haven's demise however, eliminated the need for a military presence, and so
the Western Armies departed, leaving the spaceous edifice vacant in their wake. In more recent times, it served as the
headquarters for the region's top crime syndicate, a syndicate that had ruled Haven with an iron fist, up until their crimelord's
fateful encounter with Megatron led to his broken body littering the nearby streets. Megatron subsequently claimed the
barracks for his own nefarious purposes, transforming it into his de facto command center. The remaining criminal elements
were either assimilated into Megatron's own organization or completely wiped from existence.



Within the massive war room, nearly two dozen Transformers labored at various machines and computer consoles seated
along each wall. These warriors formed Megatron's elite cadre--his Inner Circle--creating the core of his fledgling army, the
very backbone of his future military campaign. Several more members of the Inner Circle stood around an immense, circular
projector table positioned in the center of the room. At the head of that table stood Megatron, watching with great interest as
holographic projectors created three-dimensional, real-time replicas of Cybertron's independent nations, the unknowing targets
of his future war campaign. He had studied all of these in great detail, exploring the geography of each nation in an attempt
to locate the best possible incursion points for his invasion force, probing for weaknesses in their defense network in which
he would exploit when he the time drew near. In conjuction with his strategist Shockwave, he had formulated a successful means
of attack for all his intended targets--save for the most important target of all. He uploaded new coordinates into his surveillance
satellites, punching in his personal command codes into the holographic keypad that hovered at chest-level. The images on
the table's tactical display shimmered and distorted, then disappeared entirely in a crackling burst of static as the satellites
processed the telemetry updates. Within seconds, a new image appeared in holographic perfection, one that spread across
the entire span of the projector table. Iacon... greatest of Cybertron's independent nations. At the center of that great nation,
positioned at the planet's north pole, rested the planet's capital, the grandest city-state of them all: Iacon Prime. Megatron
keyed in another command, and the image of Iacon Prime expanded and magnified until it too had covered the entire table.
Home to a population numbering millions, it was indeed a magnificient city. The spires of Iacon Prime sprouted from the
planet's surface, some rising more than a thousand meters into Cybertron's atmosphere, like bejeweled fingers caressing the
heavens. Their beauty only appeared vulnerable, for they were heavily protected from both air assault and remote bombardment
by a nigh-unbreachable, transparisteel dome. The multiple highway entrances into the city were equally fortified, flanked on all
sides by the ultimate in defense technology, the massive Omega Sentinels. Each towering construct possessed incredible
power--enough to stave off an attack force of over one-hundred strong. Additionally, With the vast resources at Iacon Prime's
disposal, they could maintain thousands of Omega Sentinels indefinitely, making the city nearly impregnable to invasion.



Megatron knew all too well that for Cybertron to truly be his, that gleaming city--the very crown of Cybertron, would have to fall.
A daunting task... a seemingly impossible task, for Megatron had yet to find a weakness--it was quite possible that one did
not even exist. But fall it would, of this he was sure. And Megatron, greatest of all Cybertron's warriors, vowed to be the
harbinger of Iacon Prime's descent from glory. His eyes would feast upon the burning husks of the Omega Sentinels as they
lay in ruins about him. He would breathe in the acrid smoke of molten metal as his fearsome Slagmaker reduced his enemies
to piles of charred scrap and listen with deaf ears as his victims pleaded for mercy. He would feel the city's protective
dome crumbling beneath his heels as he marched into the Chamber of Ancients, basking in the terror of the Convoy
Council as he ripped their champion asunder, right before their very eyes. Finally... with the Matrix of Primus firmly in his
grasp, he would set his wrath upon the Council itself.



The entrance to the command center slid open behind the Decepticon leader, the harsh sound of the parting steel doors
interupting his reverie. Unlike the other occupants within the confines of the room, he did not turn around to identify the
source of the interruption... he didn't need to. He had other hyper-keen senses at his disposal, senses that had already
set upon the task of identifying this new arrival. His tactile sensors quickly determined the relative mass of the newcomer
as he entered the room, feeling the vibrations conducted through the metal floor as he walked. His ultra-sensitive auditory
systems listened to the muffled sound of high-performance motors tuned to perfection. Finally, his keen olfactory sensors
confirmed the newcomer's identity with absolute certainty, detecting the faint, yet unmistakeably pungent odor of the energon
additives that aviators often used to boost their performance at high altitudes mixed with the slight aroma of specialized
polishing compounds, popular among those who were concerned with personal appearances. He stared at the tactical display
for a moment longer, then turned it off completely. "So Starscream," Megatron said in his deep and thunderous voice. Only
then did he turn around to face the new arrival. "Did he accept my proposal?"



There he stood, looking resplendent in his pearlescent gray armor trimmed in the purest crimson and cobalt blue.
Starscream, first of his lieutenants, commander of all airborne activities. In human terms, he was extremely
handsome, if such a description could apply to a born killer. The room's harsh lighting only magnified his
physical finery, bathing his sharp, angular features in a radiant aura. He exuded regality with every movement,
posturing himself as if the very heavens bowed before him. Perhaps not unjustly so, Megatron thought,
for nothing in the air could dispute his superiority. He offered no verbal response to Megatron's query, but
did bow his head in acknowledgement, a smug grin creasing his face. The Decepticon Air Commander turned
slightly, beckoning to the individual standing in the doorway behind him. Answering the gesture, an imposing
figure strode forward, his size alone betraying his obvious physical power. He walked with casual, yet purposeful
strides, pausing his advance only when he stood abreast of Starscream.



Megatron approached the warrior standing next to his Air Commander, stopping just short of arm's reach. The
Decepticon leader stood there for a moment, sizing up the newcomer whose massive proportions seemed almost
comically large next to Starscream's sleek chassis. He was a brute of a Transformer, standing at least a full head taller
than Megatron--already considered tall by his race's standards--and carried nearly twice his mass. Power-packed limbs
hung rigidly from the machined bulk of his shoulders. At the end of those arms, tightly clenched hands formed
massive fists ready to strike. His colors were primarily iron gray and crimson, but where Starscream's armor gleamed
with meticulous, well-polished care, his colors were dull and faded by a labyrinthine network of shallow cuts received in
battle. He had made no attempt to repair the superficial wounds. In fact, he seemed to bear them proudly. Even the
massive breastplate, once a bright and gleaming gold, was so thickly covered in similar scars that it seemed no more
radiant than a dull, yellowy bronze. Centered atop of that breastplate sat a dark-gray head split by a single, blood-red visor.
A tarnished, silvery faceplate hid most of his facial features, all but the vicious looking fangs on either side of
his face. It was not known if these fangs were functional or decorative, but they were intimidating nonetheless. The
owner of that fearsome looking head quickly surveyed his surroundings, regarding each and every occupant with a brief
but menacing glance, before affixing his gaze firmly on the Decepticon leader.



Megatron spread his arms wide in a gesture of welcome."Greetings Grimlock. Welcome to the warrior elite... my Inner Circle.
Welcome... to the Decepticons." Although never formerly introduced, the Decepticon leader knew this one well. As he did
with so many other promising fighters, Megatron had watched Grimlock from afar, gauging the latter's abilities as he competed
in the underground gladiatorial bouts which the Decepticon leader used as a surreptitious recruiting platform. These contests
provided Megatron the means to assess an individual's combat potential in simulated battlefield environments, and those
who were particularly gifted in the ways of war were offered key positions in his newly established heirarchy. Much like
Starscream, Grimlock had vastly exceeded his expectations, albeit in different fashion. Whereas the uber-aviator used his
peerless speed and scientific genius to defeat his opponents, Grimlock put forth a display of unfettered brutality and sheer,
brute force to barrel through his competition, as if unleashing some feral beast that lay dormant within him until stirred by
battle. Now, the two brightest stars of the arena stood together, warriors of contrasting styles, yet equal skill. One, the
perrenial master of the heavens above; the other, power incarnate on the ground below. In Megatron's eyes however, there was
only one difference that truly separated the two... only one difference that really mattered. Starscream was already his
command; Grimlock was not... at least, not yet. That situation, Megatron thought to himself, was one he intended to correct...
one way... or another.



Grimlock however, seemed to be of a different opinion. "Stuff that Inner Circle slag Megatron. Grimlock here for one
thing: title shot."



Megatron laughed in response. Apparently, the reports of Grimlock's stunted syntax had not been exaggerated. Neither,
it would appear, had his courage. "Starscream failed to tell me you were such an eloquent speaker, Grimlock... perhaps
you should forego your career as a professional fighter, and pursue a career in politics instead." he said to the bigger warrior
mockingly. A few snorts of derisive laughter erupted throughout the room, laughter that Grimlock quickly stifled with a few
threatening glances. Many in the room had faced the brutal warrior in the arena, and had suffered their most painful defeats
at his powerful hands. None seemed overly eager to do so again, even with the numbers so grossly in their favor. Satisfied
he had ended their lack of respect, Grimlock once again locked eyes with Megatron, feigning amusement at his Decepticon
host's verbal gibes.



"Heh! You think Grimlock pretty funny, don't you Megatron? You think since Grimlock talk funny, Grimlock a big joke.
Fight Grimlock Megatron, fight Grimlock for championship... then we see who laugh, then we see which one truly the
big joke."



Losing all semblance of humor, Megatron glared at Grimlock. "Ever the gladiator I see." he spoke, his voice dripping with
venom." I respect your warrior spirit Grimlock, but be warned, that path is one of futility. That road leads only to the bitter
agony of defeat."



Now, it was Grimlock who laughed, belching forth a gutteral, grunting sound that didn't seem like laughter at all. "Yeah, that's
what they all say Megatron, until Grimlock crush their vocals." Grimlock took a step forward, his chest now separated from
Megatron's by no more than an inch. "Grimlock more than happy to give Megatron a demonstration... right now if Megatron
want!"



Starscream visibly recoiled at both the remark and the sudden movement which had preceded it. It seemed that the growing
tension between the two warriors would soon blossom into a full-on, physical confrontation. He knew from his sparring
sessions with Grimlock that he was indeed a powerful and fearless fighter. He had witnessed first-hand the relative ease in
which Grimlock had dispatched Kalis's local champion, the fearsome (and previously undefeated) Maul. But despite all
of this, Starscream could not have possibly predicted that even one such as Grimlock would be so brazen--or foolhardy--as
to openly challenge Megatron in such reckless fashion, especially on his own turf. The Air Commander spared a quick glance
at his compatriots within the command center and saw that he was not alone in his concern. Several Decepticons had
paused from their duties to disengage weapon safeties, moving into better firing positions to aid their leader should a melee
ensue. Megatron however, remained unflinching in the face of the unveiled threat, actually smiling in response, although it
lacked any real mirth.



"True Grimlock, you have fared very well against the rank and file, and if battle were a contest of strength alone, you might
offer me some challenge. But since it is not, there is little chance of you emerging victorious. My fighting skills are vastly
beyond yours, as you will learn firsthand should I ever deem you worthy enough for a chance at my title. A lesson in humility
works wonders for arrogance such as yours, and you would do well to remember this." Grimlock readied a response,
but was cut short by a quick wave of Megatron's hand. "Nonetheless, that is a discussion for another place and another
time. I did not invite the mighty Grimlock here to challenge him to some short-lived contest of combat prowess, I invited you
here to offer you a job... a position of extreme importance, a position rife with much greater rewards than anything you have
ever experienced fighting in the arena. Worry not Grimlock, your mettle will be tested... many, many times. Of that, you
can be well assured. And unlike in the arena, local intervention will cease to be an issue."



Having lost momentum in their somewhat heated conversation, Grimlock feigned interest. He folded his arms over his massive
chest, assuming a stance only slightly less hostile and menacing than before. "Okay Megatron, you have Grimlock's
attention... tell Grimlock of job offer."



Megatron smiled, and this time it was genuine. He stepped away from the bigger warrior, moving to the center of the room to
stand before the projector table. "I am mobilizing an army Grimlock, an army much grander than anything Cybertron has ever
seen. Be advised, what I propose is outside of legal boundaries, at least those imposed by the current government. The powers
that be will not view this army favorably, and nor should they, for it will be the source of their downfall." He slammed the butt of
his fist into an open palm for dramatic flair, before continuing. "Tell me Grimlock... how much of our planet's history do you
know?"



Grimlock shrugged his shoulders. "Not much... Grimlock never really concerned about past. Only present and sometimes
future interest Grimlock."



"Yes, I might have surmised that." Megatron said, his tone clearrly indicating that he had indeed known the answer beforehand.
"Very well then, allow me to give you a brief history lesson. Did you know that in days long ago... in more pure and noble
times, our ancestors actually competed for the right to bear the Matrix of Primus, that they actually fought for the privilege, the
very honor, of leading the Transformer race?" Megatron interpreted Grimlock's silence as a resounding no. "Every decade,
each nation would be represented by a champion, usually... but not always... the head of their respective nation. The warrior
that prevailed in these contests... the one that proved superior to all others... would receive the Matrix and all of its inherent
privileges. For better or for worse, they would decide the planet's future... only death or defeat at the hands of a rival
during the Rite of Combat could end their reign. That all ended however, when the Covenant of Primus surfaced... the alleged doctrine of Primus
himself. A council of Iacon's elders stepped forth, claiming they alone had the ability to decipher the ancient scriptures. It
was they, the very predecessors of the Convoy Council, who proclaimed that Primus communicated to them throught he Well of the Allspark, and that through them, our god would choose our planet's sovereign. This sovereign would bear the title Prime... in honor of our creator... and that he alone would lead the planet and all of its inhabitants until Primus himself deemed it necessary to choose another. And so, the Rite of Combat was abolished, giving way to this new tradition. The reign of the Prime has endured ever since. A fair and just system... if Primus' divine hand was truly involved., something I have grown to doubt. What troubles me with the current system, is that the selection process seems to favor Iacon, or those nations that pay tribute to Iacon. When was the last
time a Kaonian was chosen to lead... or perhaps a Vosian... or even a Tarnian? For that matter, when have one of our people even been chosen to represent the Convoy Council, the very deciders of our future liege? Has Primus deemed our people worthy enough to be led, yet not worthy enough to lead?" Not waiting for an answer, Megatron continued. "Of course not. The answer
is all too obvious. This stinks of deeply rooted corruption... of deception most foul. The Convoy Council is nothing more than
a sect of false prophets, preying upon the superstition and religious beliefs of our people. They choose to horde their power...
to keep it from others more deserving. This deception can not be allowed to continue. My army... my Conquerors of Deception,
will herald a new age for Cybertron, an age where the the yokes of Cybertron are wrested away from these false prophets and
those that serve them. It will be an age where those with power are given free reign... where the strong lead and the weak
follow... harkening back to the old ways where leadership was the sole privilege of the powerful... the relevant. What say
you Grimlock, are you with me?"



For the first time since his arrival, Grimlock actually appeared interested in what Megatron had to say. Although he had no
memory of his creation, no knowledge of his designated function beyond the heavy labor role he performed for a steady
income, he believed he was created for some other purpose... more specifically, he believed he was built for the rigors of
battle. Physically, he was far stronger than the average Cybertronian, and could endure much more punishment. Arena
combat offered him some respite from an otherwise mundane existence, but these matches were outlawed throughout
most of the planet. Participation in these unsanctioned bouts could lead to a lengthy incarceration in a bio-stasis detention
facility, and so the fighters were forced to pay hefty bribes to corrupt government officials just for the privilege of fighting. The
monetary value of the bribes did not bother Grimlock... he would pay every ounce of energon he owned just for the opportunity
to compete. What truly incensed him was that the bribes themselves were just another means of the weak imposing their
will over the strong... something that in Grimlock's opinion violated the most fundamental laws of nature. The weak should
be prey to the whims of the strong, not the other way around. If Megatron spoke true, if what he was offering was a chance
to restore the natural order on a planet which seemed to have forgotten the old ways, then he was definitely interested. He
looked around the command center once more, seeing for the first time the fruits of Megatron's labor. He marveled at the
actual number of Transformer nationalities represented within, ensnared by Megatron's impassionate speeches. Cybertronians
of all origins--Vosians, Tarnians, Kalisians, Polyhexians, and even a few Iaconians, the latter often regarded as enemies of the
state by some of the more prejudiced of Kaon's populace--discussed tactics and strategems for their upcoming operations.
They had formed a cohesive command infrastructure, a multi-bodied yet single-minded entity poised for planetary conquest,
biding their time until Megatron let loose the dogs of war. Grimlock felt an irresistible urge to become part of that group, the
beast within him roaring its consent. And yet, something deeper within him--another voice perhaps--seemed to cry out in
protest. The beast refused to bedenied however. It had grown angry and disgusted with the way it had to hide from the
weak... from those it could so easily destroy, and its rage clouded Grimlock's better judgement. In the end, the beast proved
too strong to ignore, its hunger for redemption simply drowning out the voice of reason... or perhaps it was the voice of
something else, some other calling that Grimlock was now turning his back on. It no longer mattered. He had made his
choice. "Ok Megatron, you convinced Grimlock. Grimlock not entirely convinced of 'nobility' in Megatron's agenda, but
Grimlock still in... for now."



"Excellent." Megatron replied, grasping his newest officer's hand in a congratulatory shake. "You will indeed be a worthy
addition to our military forces. Go now... proceed to the Forge for indoctrination."



"No." Grimlock said rather bluntly, releasing Megatron's hand.



"No?" A flash of anger touched Megatron's eyes. He was unaccustomed to such blatant insubordination, but quickly decided
that this recruit--raw and loaded with potential--would be allowed this one trespass to his authority. He made a silent vow to
himself however, that future occurences would be dealt with most harshly. Regaining his composure, he spoke again, although
his voice remained low, his tone threatening. "Be warned Grimlock. It is far too late to entertain any second thoughts. The
consequences could be somewhat... fatal."



"Grimlock not have second thoughts. Grimlock not frightened by threats neither. Grimlock simply have other
business to attend to today. Nothing more... nothing less. Grimlock report tomorrow... no sooner." without another word,
Grimlock turned and headed for the exit, leaving the command center in the same, unpretentious manner as he had
entered."



It was Starscream who spoke first once the massive doors had sealed, clapping his hands in mock applause. "Riveting
speech Megatron, simply riveting. Sow the seeds of conceit and an army will bloom. Ha! Our ancestors fought for the privilege
of leadership indeed... you know no more of our ancestry than I do. Still... you are definitely the master when it comes to
appealing to one's vanity. I thought Grimlock might hold out for a day or two... but after your 'history' lesson, he couldn't
sign up fast enough."



"It would seem Starscream, that the only thing capable of rivaling your speed is your own ignorance." Megatron said with a
healthy measure of contempt. "I know a great many things... things that you and others remain completely unaware, despite
your pretenses to the contrary. Let it be said however, that it matters very little if what I revealed to Grimlock is indeed truth,
or carefully crafted propaganda. All that matters is that he believes what I have told him... and that is enough for my purposes.
Grimlock believes that might makes right... it is the basic tenet of his existence. It is also the very foundation of Decepticon
soceity. Of course he would join us, it is in his nature. Still... it is always best to be sure." Megatron turned to address a large,
indigo-blue Transformer standing motionless at the far end of the room. "What is your assessment Soundwave?"



Known only to a select few, Soundwave could decipher the hyper-complex neural signals that comprised a Transformer's
thought patterns. In essence, he was the perfect judge of character, able to 'read' the minds of most Transformers
depending on their proximity. Few could hide their true intentions so long as he remained in their midst, an invaluable
asset Megatron was quick to exploit when interviewing potential recruits for his inner circle... or for weeding out would-be
betrayers. "For now, I must concur with Starscream," he said in his trademark monotone, his yellow ocular lens flaring
in unison with each spoken word. "Grimlock will serve our cause, at least for the moment."



Megatron nodded his approval. "Good... he is the one I've been looking for. He, will make a fine commander for my mobile
infantry forces."



"Still Megatron," Soundwave interjected, "do you think it wise to recruit one such as him? Did you see how quickly he
confronted you, how casually he challenged your authority? He truly believes he can defeat you. He could be a serious
threat to you someday."



"Nonsense Soundwave." Megatron said, callously dismissing Soundwave's concerns. "He is a wild beast. Nothing more,
nothing less. An immensely powerful beast to be sure, but once I have broken his spirit and crushed his will to challenge me,
he will heed his master's call."



Now it was Starscream who spoke, eager to point out the potential flaw in Megatron's thinking. "Much easier said than done
O'mighty one." he said with just a hint of sarcasm. "He didn't seem too willing to, um... how did you phrase it again? Oh yes,
he didn't seem to willing to heed his master's call today. What if his spirit proves unbreakable, even by one as mighty as
you?"



Between Starscream's verbal quips and Grimlock's blatant defiance, Megatron had endured enough disrespect for one day.
The current conversation only served to aggravate him further, and he had decided to end it, once and for all. He spoke in
carefully measured tones, suggesting that further discussion might risk arousing a different kind of response... perhaps even
a physical one. "If I can not break his spirit Starscream, then I will break his body." he said, anger slowly creeping into his
voice. "One way or another, Grimlock will serve me... either as an instrument of warfare, or as a lesson to would-be
challengers. As my second, you would do well to remember the latter." The threat hung thickly in the air, baiting and
provoking. Wisely, Starscream bowed his head submissively.



"Of course mighty Megatron. I meant no offense. As always, your will is absolute. Your word is law."



Megatron studied his subordinate closely, deciding whether the show of respect was indeed genuine, or merely an empty
gesture Starscream had performed solely to placate the Decepticon Leader. Sensing the former, Megatron let the anger drain
from his demeanor, seemingly satisfied that he had reestablished his authority. "See to Grimlock's indoctrination when he
arrives tomorrow, Starscream... see to it personally. I want him at full combat readiness in no more than three stellar cycles.
Soon... we will march on Kolkular, and I want him on the frontlines. I will rid Kaon of our weak-minded governors, those
pitiful fools who are nothing more than lapdogs for Iacon and their allies. Afterall... if I am to rule Cybertron, I must first put my
own house in order. Now leave me."



Starscream bowed once more before departing the command center. Once the double doors had sealed behind him and
his thoughts were safe from the prying sensors of Soundwave, he fully exhumed his earlier thoughts of treachery and betrayal,
thoughts which he always kept deeply buried in the presence of the Decepticon's Communication Officer. "Perhaps you will
break the beast Megatron," he said in hushed tones as he walked through the dimly-lit corridor, ever cautious of potential
eavesdroppers. "But it is just as likely the beast will break you. Grimlock may provide the muscle I've been needing to
supplant you... the brawn to my brain. With him as my pawn, the reigns of the Decepticons... and even Cybertron itself... can
finally be mine." Starscream smiled shark-like at his dark thoughts, his face both handsome and frightening with the predatory
quality that now covered his features.



To be continued...



Next: Indoctrination