Part Five


The time had come. All the years of plotting and planning, the movements behind the scenes. Finally, he could step out from the shadows and do something himself.

It had been quite a long time since The Leader had participated in a fight. That's what underlings were for; let them do the dirty work, was his motto. He had learned that himself eons ago, firsthand on more than one occasion.

But this particular fight, this particular time.... it required a personal touch.

And the Leader would make sure that it had that. Some things were worth being directly involved in. And when it came down to it, he would enjoy taking this particular Dairycon out the old-fashioned way.

The leader deployed his blaster arm. "Do you think," he said to Uncle, "that you found me thru your own hard work? That I would make so obvious a blunder as to allow an energy signature to be emmitted, one that could be traced? Or accidently allow one of your own pieces of equipment to be used against you?"

The Leader fired. Just a low-powered burst at first, to gauge Uncle Whiskey Breath's reaction to being shot at.

The shot bounced off of Uncle's chest.

Uncle hadn't moved.

"Interesting," thought the Leader. "You know, bravery is just another form of stupidity."

Uncle: "Pretty words. You tink dat up yerself, or you got a speechwriter?"

The Leader: "Ahh, trying to get my cyber-goat, yes? Basic tactic. But not to worry; I plan to tell you everything....as I dismember you."

A slash; The Leader had deployed his energon blade from the other arm, and taken a stab at Uncle. This one hit lower, and would have effectively immobilised the big brutish robot....had he not used the blizzard bazooka to block the shot.

The Leader: "A wise move, but you left yourself open to uuurrrkkk!!"

The punch had landed squarely on The Leader's jaw. He reeled. Had that brutish oaf actually scored a point?

Uncle: "Dat's always the trouble wit' youse would-be-conquerers; always got a big mouth. Talk too-much, too."

The anger welled up inside The Leader. How dare he! Taking his sword arm, he began the dance; the series of maneuvers that would, over time, weaken his opponent and prepare him for the killing blow.

The Leader: "You arrogant bot!" (sword slash) "Do you think (slash) that I would go to all this trouble (slash) and *not* talk to you? (slash) Where is your sense of honor, of tradition? (slash) Do you not want to even know *why* I've done all this?"

The Leader took another slash at him. Uncle continued to back up in order to avoid the blade. When that was impossible, he stood his ground and blocked with his gun.

Uncle: "Don't care. You're the enemy. You want a conversation, go find someone else."

The Leader: "Of course. I should have expected no less. Fine, then. If you don't wish to talk, then fight!"

Uncle decided he would do just that. First stop the madman (keeping him angry and off-balance seemed a good start) then get his friends,

who were most likely in the ship behind The Leader.

Simple plan.

Uncle brought up the Blizzard Bazooka, and prepared to fire. The Leader stood there, sword at the ready, anticipating the blast.


Bailjumper completed his mission. He'd jumped back just far enough in time to stall the launching of the new Voyager probe. If all went according to plan (and for the Leader, it always did), Megatron would someday get a bug in his ear about the probe (and about carving a message on the disk), and act accordingly. All he'd have to do is find it at a certain time, a certain place, and the rest would be....history.

An elegant plan, from what little Bailjumper understood of it. And the recycling of this changeform in order to pull it off was nothing short of genius. Why the humans trusted these particular markings was always of interest to Bailjumper. Of all the things he had stolen, this body was one of his finest choices. It had certainly come in handy in the past. A shame the original owner didn't have a chance to reclaim it yet. Perhaps he should show it off to him before he gave it back. Idly picking at the green sticker overlay on his hood, Bailjumper waited a bit longer, then, following protocol, transformed and headed back to his jump-point. He wanted to have this body back in storage and slip into something a bit more comfortable. Perhaps that slick number in pod 12....

The more practical side of Bailjumper briefly wondered at the seemingly contrived and complicated nature of the Leader's plan. Wouldn't it have been easier (and more direct) if Bailjumper had simply placed the message on the disk himself? "Too clumsy," the Leader replied. "History must show it as being authentic." Whatever that meant. He supposed there was a reason and, as long as Bailjumper got his share, he'd go along with it.

Arriving at the designated location, Bailjumper transformed, and entered the portal, slipping back to another time. Now, assuming his partner was doing his part, this mission would be a success...



The weapon didn't fire.

Uncle was actually surprised.

The Leader wasn't. "Did you think my strikes were merely in-anger? No, there is always a purpose to my moves. I've disabled the interlink between your little friend there and the weapon itself. They'll be no freezing me in my tracks this time.

Uncle struggled to process this new tidbit of information. Apparently basic tactics didn't work on this one. And since his primary weapon was just disabled...perhaps letting him talk would be the best thing to do until he could wooof!!!

The blast caught him off-guard.

And it *hurt*.

Uncle: "Windchill, disengage and fly up!" The little minicon obeyed; Uncle didn't want him getting hurt during this fight, and since his primary usefulness as a weapon was compromised...

The Leader: "It doesn't really matter, you know; if I had wanted him damaged I would have done so. I told you, I'm after *you*."

With that, the Leader slashed again, this time slicing the damaged blizzard shotgun neatly in-half.

The Leader: "I could have done that to him, but I didn't. Instead I wwrg!"

Another punch; this time an over-the-head maneuver, slamming the hydraulics of the Leader's head, causing it to bounce almost bobble-like against the rest of the stem and chassis. Despite this, The Leader fired off another blast, full powered this time, at Uncle's right leg, denting and shattering the armor at the knee. Uncle grunted; that blast could have taken him out if it had hit anywhere else.

Not that he had time to think about it, as the sword slashed where the armor had been, neatly severing one of the hydraulics in his legs.

Damage, but not much; had the cut been any closer, he would have wondered about the fight.

The Leader held back a smile; by now, Uncle will have assessed the damage to his leg, and wondered about the luck in such a placement.

The Leader: "Have you ever wanted to be immortal, my slow-witted friend?"

Uncle: "I ain't yer friend."

The Leader: "You belabor the point."

Uncle: "I've been around the block a few times."

The Leader: "Do you know that, until the time of the humans on this planet, and the interaction of our descendents with them, that the very concept of death was unknown to the Transformers?"

Uncle: "Ancestors."

The Leader: "Beg your pardon?"

Uncle: "You said descendents, but you meant ancestors."

The Leader: "No, I didn't. But that's not my point. The point *is*, that our death, machine death, is not the same for organic life. We can be brought back, so to speak. The humans cannot."

Uncle: "So?" (good, keep him talking)

The Leader: "So(does he really think I don't see his other weapon), there comes a point when even our deaths are permanent, when our casings are so damaged that it cannot hold a viable spark. When that happens, our core programming, our 'spark' if you will, leaves our bodies and goes to join the matrix."

Uncle: "Yea, dat's what the voodo cybertonians preach. Me, I tink dey been around the humans too-much."

The Leader: "Ahh, you belabor my point again. Are you stalling long enough so that I won't see you pulling the other weapon out from behind your back?"

Uncle: "Yep." With that, Uncle pulled out his seldom-used Cloak of Cow. The stupidest thing Electrum Beast had ever designed, but the only piece of upgraded tech he accepted from him('cause dere was no way he'd accept chassis modifin'), the Cloak (while allowing for some limited holographic capabilities) also came with one important feature: it shielded all outputs of the wearer from his opponent.

Hence being called a cloak.

Uncle pulled it over himself and activated it, at the same time dancing to the left and pulling out his aptly-named 'cheddar rifle'. He fired; the yellow beam of electrons pulsed out of the weapon and struck the Leader, seemingly disorientating him. Of-course, firing the weapon revealed his position, so Uncle tracked back toward his original position, and ....stood extremely still. The cloak absorbed all input from the enviornment, giving him a 360 degree view.

The Leader: "Lucky shot. I hadn't anticipated quite that level of resourcefulness from you. You know, I really thought I had you that time. Ahh well, it ends the same way every time anyways, so it really doesn't matter."

The Leader fired his blaster in the direction of Uncle's last known firing position, hitting nothing.

The Leader: "Do you know how many times we've done this, Uncle? Do you know that, with a small variation in time and tactics, your death still occurs approximately 8.3 earth minutes from now?"

Uncle fires his rifle again, then moves again. The second blast catches the Leader directly in the chest, and spins him almost completely around. The Leader regains his composure and fires again, hitting nothing.

The Leader: "Do you know that I had a hand in ending the Binaltech project? Surely you must have heard of it. They tried to make Ravage a *car*, for goodness' sake. How can he become an agent of the Tripredacus if his true cyber-dober form is jammed into the tape deck of an earthen vehicle? No, for the BT project to be thwarted, Milwaukee base had to be dismantled. Part of the core tech came from there. By the time I'm finished, Binaltech will be nothing more than a child's toyline."

The Leader fired again, hitting nothing.

The Leader: "Why else do you think I eliminated Milwaukee Base? And all your friends?"

The Leader looked right at Uncle, and fired again, overloading the Cloak, and punching a good-sized hole in Uncle's shoulder. It was hard to tell which sparked more at that point, as Uncle was rendered visable again.

Uncle: "Aarrgghh!"

The Leader: "Do you begin to understand yet?"

Uncle: "Frak you, con."

The Leader: "Ahh, such witty repoitre. I do so relish these encounters." The Leader fired again, hitting the same shoulder, causing Uncle to drop his rifle.

The Leader: "You Dairycons cause too-many variables in the timestream. And frankly, I'm frankly quite tired of cleaning up after you."

Uncle: "You're a transwarper?"

The Leader: "You small-minded fool, I created the very concept. Of course, those who came after me tried to exploit it, and we ended up with the multiverse." Another shot fired, into the knee again, this time damaging the other hydraulic in the leg. Uncle calculated that fighting effeciency was down about 18% from optimal.

The Leader: "So once again I moved in to clean up. Frankly, until now, the Dairycon version of the Universe was nothing more than an annoyance; little did I know that with your unsettling mix of G1, G2, and Beastwars technology, you'd become a positive thorn in my side." The Leader fired again, but higher and to the right, causing Uncle to put more strain on his damaged leg during movement.

Uncle: "So, we have to go then?"

The Leader: "Of course. You especially, since you're based off the cartoon universe. If everything good about the Transformers Universe is to exist, then the G1 cartoon continuity must give way to the G1 comic continuity...otherwise, G2 won't exist, which means *I* won't exist."

Uncle: "Oh, I get it now."

The Leader: "You do?"

Uncle: "Sure. You're doing like all the others, trying to save your own skin."

The Leader: "It...isn't....about....me!!" The Leader fired again, but wide of his mark. Uncle took several steps in toward the Leader and swung his fist. He connected with the Leader's gun arm, snapping the barrel off the end of it while reaching to hold the sword arm.

Uncle: "Yep, typical scum. Tryin' ta save your own hide at the expense of the universe. Same old story." Uncle shoved, the Leader went flying backwards, into the ship behind him, actually denting it and sinking into the plating a few inches. He had forgotten how stong G1 transformers were. Diecast construction truly was a lost art.

The Leader: "It's about the universe itself!! Have you not read the Covenant of Primus? "And lo, there shall be a winged warrior who comes out of the darkness to shine a light on the dirt of the world." It refers to *me*, you fool. Me. This place. And this time!" The Leader pried himself out of the skin of the ship, and placed himself in the ready stance. "Every time I've tried subtly manipulating the universe, you Dairycons have gotten in the way. 'Messed it up real good', to use your idioms. I've tried it every other way, even tried to put you in simple stasis like the others, but the universe doesn't quite switch over. We end up with a meld of the comic and cartoon universes. The best way - the only way - I can bend the universe to my will is by destroying you."

Uncle: "I'm flattered."

The Leader: "You ought to be. I've sent agents in my place to do this job subtly, but it never quite succeeds. You are the linchpin. You are the first Dairycon. And when I'm finished, you'll be the last. I must destroy you."

Uncle: "You will try."

With that, the battle was joined again. Fist against fist, armor against armor, the way Transformers were truly meant to fight. The Leader remembered this part the best, like the times in the Gladiator pits, when Cybertron was at its peak glory. Uncle, or at least this version of him, might well remember the same.

But all fights end eventually, thru brute force or thru trickery. And though both combatants took (and doled out) heavy damage to the other, each eventually had to go with their strengths. Uncle's was brute force. The Leader, therefore, would resort to trickery. Just as it looked as though Uncle would strike the killing blow( a meaty shot into the head module), the Leader put up his blade once again. The impact of Uncle's damaged fist against a weakened energon blade might have played out differently in another time, another place, but here?

The blade snapped.

At the same time, the Leader popped out his damaged gun, and fired directly into Uncle's lasercore.

The fist connected with the head.

The shot directly struck the lasercore.

To be continued.

To be continued in Crisis on Infinite Cybertrons!

Return to DairyCon Universe