Goliath was already dead. Ratchet refused to admit it. The man’s heart wasn’t beating. His ribs crackled like celery. The sternum was just gone. Ratchet plunged his hands into Goliath’s chest and scooped out a handful of what looked like beef milkshake. And Primus, how the humans bled… They bled and bled and bled…
Iron Man stood next to him. His followers were silent. Thor’s cape snapped in the gale wind. The world smelled like ash. Acid raindrops crawled down Ratchet’s face.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he heard someone say.
If there was a God, he hated Earth.
Ratchet stared at the gaping would and quickly loaded everything he had ever learned about human anatomy. Thor had destroyed the intersection of the left and right bronchus. The right ventricle was scored and smoking. Three of his thoracic vertebrae were completely missing. This man would never walk again… but he could still live.
The very first thing a human needs is a patent airway. His heart could beat, his lungs could swell, but it was worthless without an airway. Ratchet gripped the severed end of Goliath’s trachea. Trimming the tear with a surgical laser, he connected it to the right bronchus. He would worry about the left lung later; The right had more lobes and was therefore more valuable. Staple… staple… staple… patent!
The Autobot realized he had no idea how much blood Goliath needed in his expanded form. There was almost four gallons of blood on the ground. That was more than any two humans combined. The damaged heart was totally lifeless. If an electrical charge could restart it, it would be a miracle. But first he had to-
It wasn’t until that moment Ratchet realized he had no way to force air into Goliath’s lungs.
This man was going to die.
“Ratchet!” Prowl said, tugging at his shoulder. “We have to go!”
“No!” Ratchet shouted. “I can save him! He has an airway. I need compressed oxygen. Find me an oxygen tank!”
“Ratchet!” Prowl said again. “This is over.”
“I can make a stoma and blow it into his bronchus.” He looked down at his patient, who was long dead by any definition. The Autobot’s palm glowed with electricity. Shocking him was illogical. His blood was deoxygenated and useless. It was asystolic, so it wouldn’t respond to defibrillation. It was nothing but total, ridiculous desperation. Ratchet laid his hands on Goliath’s chest and hit him with 500 joules… Twice the jolt he would give a normal human.
Goliath’s body bucked and twisted, and nothing happened.
“He’s killing him!” someone yelled.
“He’s dead,” Stark said. His boot thrusters lifted him up until he was face-to-face with the Autobot. “You have to go. Sentinels are on the way.”
Ratchet started to speak but couldn’t find the words. He looked at the assembled warriors… The ‘law’ side of their ridiculous legal squabble. Couldn’t they see the harm they had done? Couldn’t they see what they were doing to each other? Couldn’t-
Suddenly, he froze. He looked straight at Thor, and looked through him. He could see the thunder god’s bones, his compound muscles, the exotic energies flowing through his veins… And the horrible synthetic spider webs that had crept into his mind.
“Primus…” Ratchet whispered. “Thor’s a…”
“HALT!” a mechanical voice declared.
“Damn,” Stark hissed.
The O*N*E Sentinel landed in the middle of the street. Jim Rhodes’ voice blared from its voicemitter. It stood at eye-level with the Transformers, but without the geometric bulk of a Cybertronian. It made him recall the oversized armor Stark wore when they first met. He filed that thought away for later.
“Remove your weapons and step back,” Rhodes commanded from within his metal titan.
“They’re with me,” Stark said, hovering between them.
“I know who they are, Tony. SHIELD has ordered that all Cybertronians be taken into custody. We can’t let them make war on Earth.”
Ratchet and Prowl looked to each other, and then to Iron Man. He slowly turned towards them, and shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “SHIELD is on our side. I can’t stop them.”
The Autobots slowly rose. The Sentinel took another menacing step forward. Ratchet glanced over his shoulder.
“Thor’s a facsimile. They’re working for the ‘Cons.”
Prowl’s optics flared. With one smooth motion, the Autobot drew his pistol. He put a 120mm tungsten round straight through the Sentinel’s skull. Optics and data-processors spewed out the back in half-molten chunks. The Sentinel took one more step forward, and fell to its knees. The armor spewed smoke and bled hot slag.
“Stay back!” Iron Man shouted to his fellow superheros.
Not all of them obeyed.
A flash of light, a clap of thunder, and Thor sent Prowl sprawling. The Autobot tumbled end over end. He didn’t stop until half his chassis was embedded in the side of a building. A glowing crater marred his chest. His circuits trembled with electrical overload.
Ratchet swatted the clone out of the sky. The false god tumbled to the ground. Cranking his defibrillator to its max, he blasted Thor with an incredible lightning surge. Thousands of joules of energy coursed through the murderer, leaving him stunned and unconscious. Hopefully, someone would think to ask why electricity would defeat a Thunder God.
His optics met Iron Man’s. The two stared at each other for a brief second, before Ratchet raised his blaster. To his credit, Stark didn’t even flinch. He stood there and took it. He would at least be able to make the argument that he was overpowered.
The Autobots didn’t wait. The crowd of superhumans surged forward, pelting them with energy bolts and laser blasts. They transformed; Their bodies folded and contorted, grinding as they strained against the laws of physics. Wheels met asphalt, and they escaped down the city streets at speeds no normal driver could match.
Behind them, Thor rose from the ground.
Invisibly, imperceptibly, he listened to the hiss and chatter of the Decepticon tongue.
* * *
Stark Tower was cold and silent. It was miserably, depressingly empty. No tenant had been crazy enough to share their business with the Avengers Headquarters. Since the beginning of the superhuman civil war it was more deserted than ever. Stark only shared the space with a handful of his closest allies. Now Ratchet stood with Optimus Prime and Prowl, waiting to meet their host.
“You care too much about the humans,” Prowl said.
“I care about anyone who needs our help,” Ratchet replied. “The Avengers are our allies.”
“They’re miserable bastards, is what they are. We have to let them solve their own problems.”
“You don’t care who gets hurt.”
“You care too much! Let the humans fight their own battles.”
Ratchet looked away, and pretended to examine the dark, lifeless walls. “What do you think, Prime?”
“I think,” the Autobot leader began. “That we should not rush to judgment. We have more in common with the humans than either of you realizes.”
Massive doors parted, spilling light onto the three Autobots. Tony Stark waited for them in an expensive suit. He was flanked on both sides by an army of Iron Men, a gallery of armors old and new. Ratchet couldn’t tell whether he was trying to impress them or if this was just business as usual. For Stark, it was probably the latter.
“Good morning gentlemen,” he said.
The Autobots were grim.
“Ratchet has brought me disturbing news,” Optimus Prime said. “We came to give you the chance to explain.”
“I’m guessing you mean Thor. I knew we’d have this conversation sooner or later.” Stark paused and took a deep breath. Checked his watch. Stalled, then finally confessed. “We purchased facsimile construct technology from the Decepticons.”
“Purchased?” Ratchet asked. “With what?”
“Ramjet. It’s a interesting story. Remember when we left Latveria? It turns out Ramjet had disguised himself as our aircraft. We didn’t detect the switch until we had landed inside our headquarters. We discovered that Cybertronians are invisible to Spider-Man’s sixth sense as long as they remain inert. In your vehicle mode, he registers you the same as he would any inanimate car or truck. It wasn’t until Ramjet started to act independently that his spider-sense went off.”
“Fascinating,” Prowl said.
Ratchet shot him a hateful look.
“We detained Ramjet and studied him. I constructed and entire new suit of armor based on Cybertronian technology. I’ll have to show it to you. It’s extraordinary. Anyway, Ramjet wanted to bargain with us, so I traded him his freedom in exchange for the genetic facsimile process. Reed Richards executed it, and provided us with the Thor clone.”
“The Decepticons control their facsimiles,” Prime said. “How do you know they haven’t compromised him?”
“My armor constantly monitors the clone for any sort of transmissions. The only problem we’ve had so far has been the unexpected violence. Richards is going to implant a chip near the amygdala that will solve that problem.”
“Is the clone…. Sentient?” Ratchet asked.
Stark stared at him, then turned away. “I hope not,” he muttered.
“Dealing with the Decepticons is completely unacceptable,” Optimus Prime said, following Stark deeper into his laboratory.
“Normally I would agree with you,” he replied. “Unfortunately, everything we know about acceptable and unacceptable has been turned on its head. Six months ago it would have been unimaginable for SHIELD to be hunting Captain America, but look what’s happened.” Stark stopped before a flight of stairs and quickly jogged up them so that he stood eye to eye with the Autobots.
“The facsimile is actually one part of a strategy to repurpose our former opponents.” A holo-mitter activated, showing them an image of Venom, Bullseye, and Lady Deathstrike. “These are all former supervillains who have agreed, however reluctantly, to join our cause. They’re controlled by the same technology that allows us to control and direct the Thor clone. As tragic as Bill Foster’s death was, it’s given us valuable insight into the technology’s limitations and how to overcome them.”
“I can’t believe this,” Prowl said. “I’d give Thunderwing my last energon cube before I played with people’s lives like this.”
At least they agreed on one thing, Ratchet thought to himself.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” Stark said. “And I was hoping that our problems wouldn’t involve you, but-“
Prime stepped forward, his optics flaring with angry blue light. “You involved us the moment you made a deal with the Decepticons. We have done everything we can to keep humanity out of our war, but you have forced us to act.
“You must understand that you cannot negotiate with the Decepticons. There is nothing you can give them that they want, except for the Earth itself. Whatever you thought you were offering, they took much more than you expected.”
For a moment Ratchet thought he might actually strike down Stark right there. But Prime relaxed. His fury cooled. For now.
“There must be some way we can convince you to abandon this,” Prime said.
“There is,” Stark replied. He was cold as ice. It was like he was completely oblivious to the magnitude of the powers he toyed with. Either he was a complete fool, or his brilliance had made him absurdly arrogant. Looking at the two dozen Iron Man armors lining the walls, Ratchet knew Stark was not a fool.
“I need the Thor clone because our side needs power. The Sentry is… unreliable… so that means Thor is the highest card in our deck. I can’t lose him unless I have someone to replace him with.”
Ratchet and Prowl looked to each other. They both knew where this was going.
“I want you to join me, Optimus Prime. No one else can track the rebel faction as well as your Autobots, and on the battlefield your weakest is on par with Earth’s mightiest. We need your help. And in return, I’ll shut down the Thor clone.
“Keep in mind that you’re going to cross paths with the American government sooner or later. Ratchet and Prowl have already had a run-in with SHIELD, which for some reason considers you to be hostile intruders. The single best thing you can do for the Autobots on Earth is to ally yourselves with me, and help us enforce our laws. I know you believe in justice, and I’m sure that’s something that you can respect.”
Prime was quiet. Very, very, quiet. His optics dimmed as he pondered their dilemma.
Ratchet couldn’t believe it. Was he actually willing to do this? Was he seriously considering joining this used-slag salesman? The man was in bed with the Decepticons and using criminals as mercenaries! He was insane!
“I’m sorry, Iron Man. The Autobots cannot become involved with Earth’s laws. To enforce them we would become subject to them, and that would be disastrous to our mission. We are on humanity’s side… all of humanity. We cannot join you.”
“Thank Primus,” Ratchet whispered.
“I see,” Stark said. “I hope you don’t think I’m rude if I ask you to leave.”
“Gladly,” Prowl said with a scowl.
At that precise moment, Stark Tower shuddered. Sparks exploded from overhead fixtures. A blaring klaxon shattered the silence. The lights turned a deep, bloody red. Prowl drew his pistol and took aim at the tiny human.
“What’s going on?” the Autobot demanded.
Stark stared at a computer screen, and gasped.
* * *
It was Thor. And Thor. And Thor and Thor and Thor.
Dozens of them. Scores of them. Ratchet counted fifty before his targeting matrix lost track. It was Thor, bulging muscles, Teutonic blonde hair, cloned over and over… And every one a Decepticon.
They were wrapped in black and purple. The Decepticon insignia was proudly emblazoned on their chests. Some carried oversized electro-hammers. Others Energon swords and lances. Still others hefted double-barreled lascannons, heavy boltguns and multilasers. An army of Asgardian might, every single one of them armed with Cybertronian weaponry.
Runabout and Runamuck joined the legion. Skywarp and Thundercracker circled overhead. Sixshot ground asphalt and whole cars beneath his oversized treads.
And in the middle of it all, Megatron.
Optimus Prime, Prowl, and Ratchet stood tall against them.
“This is it, Prime,” Megatron growled.
The Autobot leader didn’t answer. He just raised his blaster and opened fire.
Prowl opened fire with his own lascannon. His underbarrel acid launcher went to work, shotgunning the clone army with blasts of corrosive chemicals. Shoulder-mounted missiles careened into Runabout and Runamuck, blowing them to the sides. The Autobot stepped forward into a barrage of laser fire and electrical blasts.
Ratchet opened fire with his own pulse laser. He fired randomly into the sky, unable to track the swarming targets. He squeezed off an entire power cell before half a dozen Thor clones slammed into him. For a brief second he was lifted off the ground, and then slammed into the side of Stark Tower with all the force of an impacting asteroid.
Everything went dark as steel and rubble fell down around him. The Autobot clawed his way out, only to find himself staring into the Nordic face of a Thor clone. It battered him with an electro-hammer, stunning the Autobot and dropping him to the ground. More clones shot him in the back and stabbed him with energon lances. He cried out and swatted at them, but it was futile. He was mobbed by a dozen of them, each one with enough strength to heft a garbage truck.
“Get back!” an electronic voice shouted.
Ratchet raised his optics to the sky just as Iron Man came down on top of him. The suit was as tall as he was, shining red and brilliant gold. It sported wings and extra thrusters, joints in strange places… Ratchet suddenly realized it looked like Iron Man had collided with a Seeker, and this armor was the fused result.
An epic blast of concussive force blew Ratchet to the ground and scattered the Thor clones. Gatling blasters opened up on Iron Man’s shoulders, along with a volley of two dozen rockets. The clones fell from the sky one after another… but every one had the strength to rise again.
“Stand with me,” Iron Man said, helping Ratchet to his feet.
“This is insane. What are they after?”
“The prison,” Iron Man answered. “Superhumans are like little Duracells to them. They want to take over my prison gate so they can pillage the Negative Zone.”
Ratchet had no idea what he was talking about, but he was glad someone understood what was happening. He hefted his pulse laser again, and stood back-to-back with Iron Man as the swarm of Thors attacked again. Astroseconds felt like deca-cycles as he held down the trigger, spraying the attackers with bolts of white-hot energy.
Clones battered him with blaster fire. He gritted his teeth as pieces of armor were sheared from his frame. A Thor leapt forward, bellowing a war cry as it raised its sword. Ratchet grabbed the warrior out of the sky and slammed it into the ground. Pinning it beneath his foot, he fired a las-burst into its face at point-blank range. The clone never moved again.
“They’re weak!” Iron Man shouted.
Ratchet reeled as a clone smashed into the side of his helmet. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Our Thor is much stronger than this. The clones are inferior.”
“It must be the Energon,” Ratchet said between las-bursts. “They would have to infuse each facsimile with it, and they don’t have enough to go around.”
For a moment the clones backed off. Ratchet prayed to Primus that they would retreat, but no such luck. Skywarp appeared and strafed the two warriors. His bombs impacted within meters of them. Ratchet was blown off his feet for the second time. He forced himself to stand before his optics even came back on line. For a moment he was lost in the smoke and the fire, and then saw that their situation had not improved in the slightest.
“Slag it,” the Autobot shouted. “We can’t go on like this!”
“Don’t worry,” Iron Man said. “We’re not alone.”
Ratchet looked up, and saw that it was Bedlam.
* * *
Spider-Man clung to the wall, hefting an appropriated gatling blaster. He rained spears of energy down on the horde from above. Almost every shot found its mark, but not a single one finished the job. His position disintegrated under a fusillade of energy blasts. The web-slinger found himself leaping through a series of incredible gymnastics, lashing Thor clones left and right with his spider-silk. It barely slowed them down.
She-Hulk seized an energon sword and hacked her way through the clones like a berserk amazon. Three of them tackled her at once, shoving her backwards into Stark Tower. They battered her over and over with fusion blasts. There was no way she could win, not against these odds. The giantess fell beneath a barrage of fists and exotic energy blasts. A clone raked his energon sword across the building’s side, burying her beneath an avalanche of steel and concrete.
The X-Men suicidally charged headlong into Sixshot’s field of fire. He reconfigured himself into tank mode and barraged them with at least eight different weapons systems. Colossus and Emma Frost were pounded into the ground and buried in molten asphalt. Wolverine tumbled head over heels, bits of scorched flesh flying off his polished bones. Armor stood tall, her body wrapped in sheets of glowing energy. It made little difference. Sixshot transformed again and pounded her into the pavement with his fists.
The Thunderbolts took on Runabout. Bullseye carried an RPG-7 on his shoulder. He fired with deadly precision, blowing out Runabout’s right optic. The enraged Decepticon kicked the hapless human into a wall. Venom came to his aid, spraying Runabout’s remaining eye with symbiotic ooze. Penance followed it up with a massive concussive blast, a wave of kinetic force strong enough to tip the Decepticon off balance.
They had no time to celebrate. Runamuck came to his brother’s aid, laying down a fusillade of energy bolts. Venom took a hit and collapsed. The black symbiote melted off his body like liquid wax. Runamuck seized a sedan and crushed Penance beneath its frame.
Iron Man, for his part, took to the skies. He leapt up, into the air, and transformed. Red-Gold armor folded and twisted, chugging as it strained against the laws of physics. In a matter of seconds he had become a jet aircraft. Skywarp and Thundercracker dueled with him, contrails twisting around Stark Tower as they jockeyed for position.
And in the middle of it all, Optimus Prime stood toe-to-toe with Megatron. The pair were locked in immortal combat, a duel destined never to end. Their war was played out over and over a thousand times on a thousand different wars. Once again their footsteps shook the Earth. Once again their blows shattered windows a hundred yards away. Every punch was like a thunderclap, teaching humanity once again to fear the Machine God.
* * *
Ratchet gritted his ore processors. His energon was down to twenty-two percent. Mass distributor was shot. Transformation cog blown out. His skin was little more than twisted slabs of steel. Battered armor plates dangled from his body. Every synthetic muscle strained to carry his weight. A Thor clone smashed in the side of his skull with an electro hammer. He swatted away the attacker, and realized his optics were misaligned.
This might be it, the Autobot thought. It just might.
And at that moment, he saw a golden light.
The Sentry. The most dangerous human to ever live. Powerful. Heroic. Completely unstable. His body glowed with an amber hue. His eyes shone like the sun. For a moment, just one moment, Ratchet saw a paladin.
Then the Sentry seized the nearest Thor and ripped its head off.
“Do you hear it?” the Sentry asked.
“What?” Ratchet shouted back.
“The signal! It’s at the very edge of the spectrum… I can just barely hear it. Its guiding the clones.” Another clone ventured too close, prompting the Sentry to punch it straight through Stark Tower. He raised his hand and pointed down the street. “It’s coming from the news van. Take it down.”
“Soundwave…” Ratchet whispered to himself. It had to be.
“Take this,” the Sentry said, offering a golden sphere.
It was like holding a miniature sun. No… more than that… It was like holding a supernova… each one bursting with radiant energies unknown to science. Beams of light leapt from the orb. It was a fraction of the Sentry’s power; The power of a million exploding suns. When Ratchet touched it he, too, felt the power.
And then the Sentry was gone. In the distance, a streak of light slammed into Sixshot, shearing the Decepticon’s arm from its body. The Sentry tightened his grip and leapt skyward, taking Sixshot with him. They disappeared somewhere in orbit.
Ratchet’s body surged with energy. His armor gleamed like polished bronze. He glowed with an amber light. A few short bounds carried him across the battlefield. A dozen clones fell in front of him. The Autobot stopped just long enough to break both of Runamuck’s legs, and then he was off again.
Just ahead, a van exploded into scraps of twisted metal. Soundwave unfolded and expanded, until he stood tall above the wreckage. Ratchet could hear it now… waves of electromagnetic chatter radiating from his foe.
“Rumble, Frenzy, Ravage, Ratbat,” the Decepticon commanded in his digital monotone. “Deploy and en-“
Ratchet shut him down. He put a fist straight through Soundwave’s chest, crushing his minions before they could escape their lair. A second blow sent the Decepticon reeling. He stomped whole cars beneath his bulk as his staggered and fell. The Autobot was on top of him in an instant, smashing his face in with glowing fists.
* * *
The clone army faltered. They were confused and disorganized. Cyclops brought them down with optic blasts. Reed Richards piloted his Fantasticar, firing off salvos of plasma flak. Bishop absorbed Decepticon fire and used it to fuel waves of energy. Hot Rod and Hammerhead materialized off an orbital bounce, carrying rifles as long as they were tall. High above them all, the sky split open as Beta Ray Bill took to the field. The army of petty godlings trembled before the brother of Thor unleashed his wrath.
And it was over. The Decepticons fled. Those that could not run, teleported. The clones themselves scattered. They left their dead and their wounded behind. Ratchet personally counted thirty-six corpses. They were hideous. Only a few minutes ago they looked strong and noble... Now the skin was melting off their bones.
"What’s wrong with them?” Iron Man asked. His oversized armor was pitted and battered. He gently picked up one of the fallen Thors, only to watch it fall apart in his grasp. “It’s like they’re made of jelly.”
“That’s what happens when a construct runs its course,” Ratchet said. “However much energy they were infused with, I bet they used up too much of their power.”
“Which means my clone…”
“Eventually, yes.”
They both took a moment to survey the battlefield. The clones were disintegrating. Cars burned. People cried out for help. Prime and Prowl were both battered. Their bodies sparked and sizzled. She-Hulk climbed through the rubble, a power lance impaled in her shoulder. Kitty Pryde helped Wolverine hold his pieces together while he healed. Bullseye’s legs were splayed at odd angles. The Sentry was nowhere in sight.
“I have to help them,” Ratchet said.
“I hope you can,” Stark replied.
“Iron Man?”
“Yes?” Stark replied.
Ratchet lifted his rifle. He blew a hole straight through the armor’s head.
“You don’t ever screw with us again.”
