A Cyber Fire Tale

Discussion in 'Transformers Fan Fiction' started by Optimus1986, Jun 25, 2011.

  1. Optimus1986

    Optimus1986 TMNT & Hulk Fanatic

    Dec 9, 2008
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    Six Million Astro Cycles Before the Great War…

    It was a sunny day in Iacon when the prospect of a cyber fire trip occurred to a small bot named Bumblebee. A few friends, some Energon coolers and a warm, cozy cyber fire would be just the ticket. A few glorious cycles away from the hustle and bustle of the” great Cyber Station” as Iacon was known in the wastelands.

    But where would he go? Where would be a good place to cool off heat-sensitive circuits and techno babble with buddies?

    “Why, the Sea of Rust of course,” said Powerglide. Powerglide was one of Bee’s oldest friends and they worked the same slag factory. It took only a few cycles for the two to begin jabbering back and forth and, as Warpath would say, BAM! A friendship was forged. “We need to ask some more ‘bots though ‘Bee,” continued Powerglide. “Ya don’t wanna be out in the Sea of Rust all alone. It’s harsh.”

    “Who could we ask,” chirped Bumblebee. Besides Powerglide, Bumblebee didn’t have many friends. Except on Spacebook. And they didn’t count.

    “Gears?” Powerglide interjected.

    Bumblebee chafed at the suggestion. “I’d rather be eaten by turbo foxes.”

    “Hmmm,” said Powerglide. “Bluestreak?”

    “Meh,” replied Bumblebee. “He never shuts up.”

    “And we do?”

    “Good point. I’ll ask him later.”

    Bluestreak was an acquaintance for both of the bots. They passed on their Energon breaks in the Great Hall in Iacon, which connected the factories like an enormous hallway. It was more akin to an airport terminal than a connection point – vendors hustling Energon goodies, reprolabels, whatever a bot might need or want. The three first met when Bluestreak , distracted by usual conversation, almost killed Bumblebee while pushing a conveyor cart. An instant friendship was formed.

    On their next break, Bumblebee and Powerglide met with Bluestreak (BS as the crueler ‘bots referred to him) and shared the prospect of a cyber fire trip. He took to the idea immediately and all of them requested leaves of absence from their respective factories. Six stellar cycles later, the trip was on and they were cruising down the space way.

    “So,” began Bumblebee as they approached traffic, “I think I’m gonna ask Arcee out for a night on the city.”

    Powerglide rolled his optics as he hovered overhead.“What, again?” he countered, slightly exasperated. Ever cycle it was the same thing – Arcee, Arcee, Arcee. “I’ll bet you a thousand credits you don’t. (he waited a click before he added) Again.”

    “A thousand credits?!” exclaimed Bluestreak. “I’ll take that action.”

    “She likes me,” exclaimed Bumblebee. “I’ll bet she’d be flattered.”

    “If by flattered you mean “disgusted”, then, yeah, you’re probably right,” poked Powerglide.

    “You guys suck afterburner. You know that?” Bumblebee sounded a little wounded. A fraction of a cycle passed before Bumblebee quickly changed the subject. “Um, why didn’t we take a transport again? My treads are about to fall off.”

    “I was thinkin’ that same thing,” said Bluestreak.

    “Because,” exclaimed Powerglide, “getting there is half the fun!” He did a barrel roll and added, “I feel fine.”

    “You’re a flyer, tail fin,” prodded Bumblebee. “Of course you feel fine! Me and Bluestreak are dyin’ down here!”

    “Quit yer yappin’! We’re almost there!”

    The Sea of Rust loomed ahead, after what felt like an enternity on the Space Lane that connected Iacon and the outlying districts like a huge Interstate. The sun that orbited Cybertron was just setting and a lovely, red glow lit the Sea of Rust as the three ‘bots arrived. It was truly a sight to behold.
    Six cycles passed and the three were sitting around a small cyber fire and telling stories. The area they had chosen was surrounded with large, metallic spikes that resembled denuded trees and gave an ominous, eerie feeling like something out of a horror story. But that was lost on the three as they conversed. Bumblebee loved the Cybertronian equivalent of the great outdoors, with rust all over him. Bluestreak was more compulsive than Bumblebee, and by that I mean germaphobic.

    “You guys sure this stuff won’t clog our pipes?”

    “Re-lax Bluestreak,” said Powerglide. “You’re so occupied with the rust, you might miss the turbo foxes as they leak acid on your skid plates.”

    “Not! Helping!”

    “Hey,” said Bumblebee. “You guys ever hear the story that this plane we’re on is haunted?”

    “Haunted,” said Powerglide. He rolled the word around as he said it, like he was hard at work trying to decipher its meaning. “You believe that bunk?”

    “You don’t?” Bumblebee sounded surprised. “I got this friend, Mainframe. He says it’s completely possible for a spark to exist without a body. They call them…” he whispered as he said “…spark spirits.”

    “Mainframe is a few nuts short of a hubcap ‘Bee. He also believes in the Plasma Energy Chamber…”

    “He’s got holos man! I seen ‘em.”

    “So have I. They’re very fuzzy. And by fuzzy I mean tampered with.”

    “Spark…spirits?” Bluestreak sounded a little scared and his optics were wide open. “You don’t think they really exist do you?”

    “Sure they do,” countered Powerglide, “just like the beast of Trypticon Station.”

    “Hey,” said Bumblebee, “don’t knock the Beast rumors. They’re true. Mainframe says that-“

    “Mainframe doesn’t know zilch ‘Bee. I’m tellin’ ya. Starscream would tell everyone if he saw a “beast” on Trypticon Station.”

    “Starscream is a joy stick,” said Bumblebee. “Anyway, they say this whole plateau is haunted by the spark of one of the Primes. Omegus, I think.”

    Bluestreak’s optics got wider as Bumblebee continued to tell his story. The legend was that the Fallen had ripped out Omegus Prime’s sensor arrays and that his spark still inhabited the plateaus, wailing due to his lack of vision and other senses.

    “Bunk,” interjected Powerglide.

    A sudden crashing sound sent them all on edge for a moment. No one dared budge. The only sounds were the whirring of their servos and the steady thrum of their Energon pumps.

    “The spark of Omegus!” Bumblebee hissed. A rattling sound startled Bumblebee. “What in the name of Primus is that?”

    “Sorry,” said Bluestreak. “My skid plate’s rattling. Happens whenever I get nervous.”

    “Will you two calm down?” Powerglide sounded agitated. “It’s flakes of rust falling from the cylindrical spikes. Or, steam escaping a turbo shaft, or…” Even Powerglide sounded nervous when another crashing noise emanated from the darkness. “Some other logical explanation.”

    They all waited for what seemed like an eternity to see what happened next. Nobody moved, except Bluestreak’s skid plates.

    “May-may-maybe we should go see what it is,” said Bumblebee.

    “You go right ahead ‘Bee,” said Powerglide, “ Have fun, eh?”

    Bluestreak’s skid plates went into overdrive when the next sound came. An oil-chilling cry from the darkness had them all on their feet and huddled together. Even Powerglide.

    “B-b-b-Bluestreak,” said Powerglide. “You’re the b-b-biggest. Y-you go see what it is.”

    “Are you slaggin’ nuts?! I’m n-not goin’ out there and get my driveshaft disemboweled by an angry spark.”

    “We-we’ll all go,” said Bumblebee. He produced a small blaster from his thigh.

    “Oh, thank Primus you brought a blaster,” said Powerglide.

    “You n-never know,” responded Bumblebee. He shook as he pointed it forward and ignited a flood light he’d had mounted on his shoulder for the trip. “Let’s go. Stay together.”

    They walked into the alien shapes of the cylindrical spikes, shivering as they walked on in the eerie light produced by Bumblebee’s flood lamp. Another scream came again and Bumblebee dropped the blaster with a smacking sound.

    “Don’t do that again,” protested Powerglide.

    Bumblebee grabbed the blaster from the ground as they continued. As they walked on in the darkness, Bumblebee started humming.

    “Will you stop that,” hissed Powerglide.

    “I sing when I’m nervous,” ‘Bee whispered back. “You’ve got the touch….dun, dun, dun, dun...you’ve got the power…”


    Soon Bluestreak was singing too. “When all hell’s breaking loose…”

    “Will you two shut up?!”

    Another scream and they were all singing.

    “You’ve got the heart…dun, dun, dun, dun….”

    Suddenly there was an enormous flash of light and all three of the ‘bots flpped their switches. They screamed to the top of their vocal capacitors as Bumblebee fumbled with his blaster.

    “Knock it off,” came a voice. “My jets are malfunctioning.” Bumblebee focused the light and the outline of Cosmos presented itself, his hand covering his optic sensors. “Turn that light off!”

    “C-Cosmos?!” shrieked Powerglide.

    “Yeah,” replied the small bot. “Like I said, my jets are malfunctioning.” As Cosmos flipped a switch on his arm, his jets whined and produced the screaming sound that had them all on edge. They all felt, for lack of a better word, foolish.

    The realization of what was happening dawned on Bumblebee first with a small laugh. “Heh. It’s Cosmos.”

    Then Bluestreak started snorting , which gave way to a chuckle. And Powerglide pointed and laughed as the tension fell off of the three of them like a pouring rain. Soon they were howling with laughter.

    “What in the name of Primus is so funny,” demanded Cosmos. Hadn’t they ever seen a jet malfunction before?

    “We thought you were the spark of Omegus,” said Bumblebee, laughing.

    The three ‘bots asked Cosmos to enjoy what was left of their cyber fire trip and agreed to help him with his jets when the sun rose. As the four of the ‘bots walked back to the campsite, Cosmos couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at the ridiculous story himself. They spent the rest of the lunar cycle techno babbling about Iacon and the new starships that were rumored to be built in Kaon, when suddenly another sound came from the darkness.

    “Cosmos,” said Powerglide, “Give it a rest will ya?”

    “That wasn’t me,” said Cosmos. The sound got louder. It was a mournful wailing sound.

    “M-must be the wind,” said Bluestreak.

    “Yeah, the wind.” Powerglide said. He waited a click before adding, “There’s no wind on Cybertron guys.”

    The four ‘bots looked at each other for a long moment, then jumped when another large crashing sound came.

    “Cosmos,” inquired Bumblebee, “you weren’t making the crashing sound earlier?”

    “I thought that was you guys…” Cosmos trailed off.

    Bluestreak’s skid plates started shaking again and Bumblebee began whimpering. Cosmos just sat there, terrified and Powerglide was on his feet in a nanosecond.

    “I’m getting’ outta here,” shrieked Bluestreak.

    Affirmatives came from all around and the four ‘bots vamoosed. Cosmos hitched a ride with Bluestreak and they left their little cyber fire camp behind, Bumblebee singing the whole way back to Iacon.

    “Dare! Dare to believe you can survive…!”


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