I was thinking of writing some Prequel stories in my spare time of the beginning of Grave Digger Mini-Con. The story is a bit of a lost chronology of this supposedly evil expermit created by a mad Decepticon who was soon afterwards killed by a soldier that wanted this creation. The cycle goes on and on.... The idea: A normal Mini-Con that was driven insane by malice and carnage when his original body and soul were destroyed around him in order to achieve infinite power levels through his design. The conclusion: Evil desires implimented by cruel dreams forge nothing but vile immitations. Just read it and come upon your own conclusion. Lasting Impressions “In wake of the attack on polar Sigma the Praxius sector was abandoned by the Decepticon legions, be advised though that the city capitol is not secure while it is no longer under enemy control for this time, units scour the area at this time securing the foundation. The station of Praxius fort has allowed many if not all apex level artifacts to be transferred to a station of elevated security. Despite the chaos of the battalions clashing full force, much of the historical output was intact and prepared for transport….” The war had continued despite the death of Sentient Prime. The Matrix had spoken and been passed to the next bearer whom had come and been given the name, Optimus Prime, to honor the name of history speaking of the greatest Prime’s to dawn in history and die in battle. The Decepticons clearly did not expect the battle to continue despite the rather benign choice in leaders the Matrix had come into possession of, quite contrarily, this Prime didn’t even know how to fight, how to lead congregations of troops into battle…how to hold a pistol. But he was being trained by the best, and he was being advised by the best. Or so far as the best is concerned to those that are in offer at the superlative desperate time of need. At least the Autobots had a leader, maybe not the best leader but at least there was someone to lead them, someone to guide them…someone to take the blame when things didn’t quite turn out as planned. It was better than nothing. “Our ancestral data must be preserved as priority secondary,” a deep voice stated. “Once the war is over, if the war ever ends, we will want to look back and remember what we might not. The Decepticons may want to eradicate history and stamp their tyranny out upon Cybertron’s surface, but I want to someday look back and remember something more than the war.” The Mini-Con robots, which Sentient Prime stated must be protected at all cost were still victim to Decepticon capture. Their bodies withstanding horrible experimentation, retooling, reformating, then abuse. This sort of crime against nature itself should not be performed on any machine, let alone the smaller ones that had once looked up to their larger, stronger cousins with respect. Now they lived in terror. The Decepticons sought conquest, control, power—to obtain this they would stoop to any measure to obtain, even deception of immoral powers. “It is a terrible shame that we must burden this war despite everything Cybertron stood for,” responded a lower, more level voice. “Once we were peaceful content to dwell on mathematics and creation of sublime inquires as our impression upon the universe. Now, we must arm our bodies with weapons to protect ourselves, we must assume military training, drafting of our fellow citizens to oppose this threat. I say we don’t want to fight, but we will not roll over and die to allow this atrocity to reach farther than we are willing to jaunt. We will not run away to die another day, we will stand and fight to die this day but we will not let this caveat grow and consume others.” The first voice responds, “Simultanesouly to the transport of artifacts for Corrila, deeper into Iacon, the Autobots reallocated heavily fortified traction missiles to post and mark the terrain in precaution to a counter from the offending Decepticon forces. At the current standing Praxius may still be in vulnerable of attack, but vocal soldiers have not stated if so, only that weapons will be on standby to thicken defenses. The Autobots on location stated any territory over the Decepticons is an advantage against the enemy.” “In a related story….” “Pawl, do you have to listen to that daily drool from the stadiums?” asked the larger forest green Cybertronian cruiser in pursuit of the alien vehicle. “All they do is talk about the cardinal importance’s of old junk that no one cares about, in light of the fact we are at war.” The alien vehicle gave a polite chuckle towards his escort’s rudeness. “I find it relaxing if not enlightening. And I do agree with them, once this war is over we want to remember something else. Not what some or our kind did but what we did do before that.” If he were in robot mode he would have shrugged. “It gives some of them out there hope.” The robot escorting the van gave a sort of snort. “Some of them that will be hopeless if all this junk is obliterated. I’m betting you that’s what the Decepticons have planned, on a side note. Eradicate anything that isn’t theirs and dominate with what momentous plagues they have planned.” He almost shuddered at the thought. Pawl redirected the broadcast to a silent frequency deciding even if Dominous didn’t want to listen to it he still did. He couldn’t say the same for his passengers, a couple of injured Mini-Cons and one Autobot, severely wounded and in need of repairs from a skilled doctor. The nearest one since their transport sent out for Centurion was a few quads away, in the next capital looking after a primary team of commando chargers that had their tailpipes kicked and mailed back in a small box. Luckily, the tough teams spark cores were intact and the bodies could be put back together. “Ah, I can’t wait till we reach Altihex. This drive has been so boring.” He concentrated his scanners on one of the parallel highways rising in the distance, a long stream of hovering vehicles trailed along onto their destinations, wherever on Cybertron it might be. The faint glint of the nearby star giving them brilliant radiance with each flash of polished chrome fixtures, overhead a streaking aerial raced by, probably late to some meeting or another about the current state of the city-state. It was times like this that made it easy to forget a civil war was raging nearby. Cybertronians were dying for the sole intent to either dominate or resist, some of his friends might be dying while he went on this silly escort mission. “Ratchet will be there.” Pawl celebrated in silence. He answered with a calm, “Yeah.” It wasn’t that he was hiding his feelings, it was just that he didn’t want other Transformers thinking him a silly scraplet. He was one of the few Autobots to proudly state that he in fact had an actual living relation and not just that his spark came from the entity of Vector Sigma. Not that it was a bad thing to be one of the original sparks of Primus, but he was a rarity and was proud of it. Recently spies located deep within the Decepticon ranks had seeped information to their fellow Autobots of manufacturing a series of ultra powerful sparks from already stable chasses. The information now in their hands they had perfected the process on the Autobot side while deciphering it from Decepticon to Autobot standard of mechanics. Ratchet had been one of the volunteers to offer his own energy to the procedure, and after two devastating failures a feasible spark had come into existence. The completed spark was transferred into an exoskeleton which mutated into a form that more enough resembled the elder medic, and was given the name Pawl. Unlike what the spy soldiers had reported of the original test subjects, the Decepticons suffering over nine dozen failures before their technique was mastered, the newly born Pawl wasn’t treated like a test subject. He was one of first to be formed from the original and while he didn’t demonstrate any better or unique abilities straight hand, he expressed an extraordinary learning style towards the technician field. He also expressed traits traditional of Ratchet such as behavioral habits, and characteristic features that materialized when his spark was in contact with his exoskeleton. His alternate form was also alien as Ratchet’s was. Pawl was still very young in Cybertronian standards, he was barely a thousand or so as far as he knew, but age was never very important. Time calculated the age of events transpiring, how long the war had been raging. “Maybe after we drop off and check in we can take off and get our infrastructures shined up. It’s been ages since I had myself polished, and since all these errands we’ve been running I’m feeling rather dingy. You know what I mean?” Dominous gave a chuckle. “Yeah, especially me. I’m on the run racing out to head off an attacking line of Decepticons, so don’t tell me what’s dingy and not. Those slaggin’ pieces of hardware, I think they target my tailgate on purpose.” Pawl laughed. “Some of them will do that just to get that weird reaction out of you. Between your tailgate and your face which would you rather them target?” They ascended a high rise leading to a tunnel through one of the large skyscrapers still standing. “Easy. My face. I think.” There was a humor to his uncertainty. “I’ll let you know soon as I find out, which won’t be too long a wait, I dread.” Pawl was about to respond when his sensors knocked out the stadiums ‘drool’ alerting him to a sudden expanse of physical space. A warp gate opening. His external view caught sight high above of a jet, he thought it was Skywarp but soon realized he was mistaken as a medium sized machine crashed into his path. He put the brakes on skidding forward as the robot before him, one bearing a striking resemblance to the Decepticons current leader, straightened up and smirked in a very warm persona. In his container there was a commotion from his passengers. “Aw jeez!” Dominous cursed as he averted his traction polar beneath him and slammed against the rail. He thought at first it was the Decepticon leader, but now that the offender was standing stationary he could see the robot was much smaller and was formatted after a helicopter, with the tail attached to his rear side and the blades rising from his right shoulder. His right arm had what appeared to be a satellite dish in black and silver blue attached. “Decepticon!” he called. The machine had a shabby faction insignia welded to his chest, it appeared to even have black tears through its side expressing this was not his original but a trophy, a morbid expression of his delight as his body revealed numerous Autobot marks adhered to his armored legs. “Autobot.” It gestured Pawl before him. The Autobot van reversed taking care of the covered container he carted with the passenger inside, wounded and in no need of this sort of detour. “Dominous, can you take him?” The other Autobot had already transformed standing much taller than the enemy before him, he reached behind his back sliding a large double barrel missile launcher from beneath the armor in his backside, where the windshield from his vehicle curled down. “Get the injured out of here while I kill this smelter.” He raised his rifle in level with the motionless machine remaining cautious as he took aim, it was never this easy. “Grave Digger, halt the caravan.” He began forward. Dominous had to do everything in his power not to avert his optics off the approaching mechanoid. He registered a crash then the sudden cry of Pawl followed by the angry resonance of surging static from a living robot, and those he recognized as the transports. He had to block them out and focus on the one before him. He opened fire. “You’re deep in Autobot territory, spry, even now I’m summoning backup to take you out.” Two heat seeking missiles stormed from his rifle towards the intended target. “I’ll be sure to leave them something to find when they get here.” The robot ducked beneath the seekers and sprang forward, grabbing the larger powerhouse as he raised a hand to strike the attacker. It was only when the robot grabbed his ankles that he realized the power he held. Dominous began to say something but fumbled and fell back, he reached up placing a hand around the other robots wrist. This action only succeeded in stealing a smirk from his metallic face, then the robot whirled around whipping him high and threw him out towards the returning heat seekers. Dominous gave a shout as they impacted his body erupting wide, tearing into his dense chest forming large fissures that spilled red fire and black smoke. While his collective processing worked on the pain his outer conscious realized there was no stable structure beneath him. He struck the side of the rail as he fell, twisting rapidly in the air as he plummet to his doom at the sidewalks below. On the road itself the smaller machine had recovered from the fall he suffered in order to propel Dominous with the desired force away from him. He got to his feet and turned to Pawl as he transformed, abandoning his container section in order to deal with the threat this ‘Grave Digger’ posed. Pawl was stunned. He had never seen a robot such as the one that had torn the side of his container out, a structure that was of reinforced tythilium. It was bipedal with jagged curled legs and claws supporting a heavily armored torso with two large guns anchored to its backside. There were guns on its ankles, another pair on its lower arms, and it looked as though its own arms were weapons as well, judging by the way the digits curled off in short individual claws. It had a face like nothing he’d ever seen, a long snout jutted overlapping teeth and sharp quill like spikes sticking from its head. It had antenna at either side of its head and a triangular black patch around its blazing red optics to emphasis a deep cold fear. But what got him was its armor, pitch black, such an oily black it seemed the color was just swallowed up into it. While it did shimmer in the light of the day it appeared not to have a reflection against its outer environment. The world around its body seemed flat. Pawl was so overtaken by this thing he could only murmur a stupid question. “What are you?” Suddenly he was thrown forward by a powerful force and stumbled down face first and then to his feet, he twisted back and found himself glaring at another mech about his same size though probably much older. Everything within him seemed to slow to a crawl. “I recognize you,” he stammered. “You’re Reaper.” He smiled kindly to Pawl. “Very good, it seems my reputation has extended.” He placed a hand over an Autobot badge on his lower chest, one with scorched red and orange edges melded to his body. “Grave Digger Mini-Con, the cargo is yours.” “NO!” Pawl tore a pistol from his shoulder and turned it to the monstrosity at his container, he managed one plasma to strike its lower back before the commanding machine charging into him and shoved him backwards. He was terrified by the strength and speed by which the blows were delivered, two strikes to his lower sides and then one to his olfactory sent him stumbling back further, his throat was snared and he was pulled forward. Thinking fast he pressed the pistol to his foes chin, but before he could tap the trigger the sounds from his containers diverted his attention. “W-what is—” A Mini-Con shot from the open door of the van from where the monster Mini-Con entered, soon after the Grave Digger stormed out carrying one other machine by the throat. It bit its snout down around the escaping robots head, the orange and blue Mini-Con flopped forward under the more powerful machine as it pressed its clawed feet to his hide and tore the back of his helmet out. It generated terrible frazzled sounds of anger as the robot in its grip thrashed to escape, even firing weapons against her captors midsection. Grave Digger didn’t seem to notice and turned back as another Mini-Con emerged from the van. “You want’a fight?” the brave robot dared. “Come an’ get me, I’m more than’a challenge.” The Grave Digger emitted an angry crackle as it turned, its free fist working in the ragged skull of its victim. The challenging Mini-Con unleashed a secret weapon from its chest into its enemy, the larger machine gave a shriek falling backwards. The Mini-Con pursued arming guns that were stationed at his hips. At the same time the Mini-Con in the Grave Digger’s grip struggled to free herself as the claws dug into her armor. “Stop it! Stop it!” Pawl screamed, struggling to get past Reaper. His focus to the massacre unleashed upon his chargers too great for him to realize the actual danger he was in and that he could have prevented it, if only he pulled the trigger! “Hold up.” Reaper snapped the pistol from the delirious ‘bots hand, the weapon fell to his feet giving a stale clatter. He kicked Pawl’s feet out from under him and held him down twisting his sharp left hand against his throat cutting off the flow of power from his Cybernetic brain. “Patience I say is in thy optic.” He struggled to hold Pawl still as he thrashed, he worked to tear the robot he had open as he waited half distracted by his own minion’s movements. The attacking Mini-Con moved closer to his target unleashing everything he had on the dreaded Grave Digger. The larger Mini-Con gave another electrical shriek and leapt through the barrage, the pain, and against the Mini-Con inflicting it. The smaller machine beneath him struggled to get up and escape but it dug its own claws into the road anchoring his body down above him, his pain and terror of what occurred before the transport working into his hindered circuits. Even had he been in working condition he would never have survived what was to come. Grave Digger dug its snout into the Mini-Con’s chest ripping through thick platted armor into the spark core and tore out the very life force out of the robot. The body went limp beneath it. The pulsating stream of energy drifted between its overlapped jaws as it faded from life, it then remembered the other Mini-Con at its grip, lifeless after the barrage it suffered from her well meaning comrade. It took her in grip piercing claws into her chest and ripped her in two vertically, the shriek of tearing metal compensating for her silent death. It’s deep red optics perked in interest when more commotion came from within the van and moved to investigate stepping closer, and closer, and closer still. It hopped up inside, the moment it disappeared within did the alarm howls come from the surviving Mini-Cons still trapped within. Pawl struggling with all might offered still endeavoring to free himself and help his chargers. After Reaper had torn into his armor and he in turn had inflicted his own injuries to the enemy ‘Con, he still was more haggard by his futile effort. “Stop him, please!” He pleaded. “Don’t let him! I’m begging you!” The answer was always the same, always delivered in a calm, friendly tone. “Nope, sorry, can’t.” Pawl struck his captor across the face with his arm denting a cheek, in return Reaper backhanded him. He crashed backwards and whirled to rise but Reaper was already at him, tearing his sharp left hand into his lower chest. He groaned in pain as vital systems were breached. “ACK!” He looked into the blazing coal like optics of his assaulter. “W-why are you doing this?” “Why?” The Decepticon inquired. He pulled Pawl close to his face and smiled. “Because you let me.” Pawl managed nothing better than a pitiful whimper. Reaper grinned wider before throwing the Autobot back and whirling around, he tore the helicopter blade from his back and raised the double blade against the descent of another aerial officer. “I got a call that you were in trouble,” the yellow and red Autobot announced. He frowned with contempt on the small Decepticon before him, no equal in size, strength, or density but holding well against him. “Casualties?” Pawl was working to recover, working to locate his pistol and help the Mini-Cons rocking in terror within the container. He looked up when a decapitated head ricocheted from the doorway and out against those that had fallen before it, the lone skull spun rapidly before it stopped, the optics dead, fluid pouring from the severed stems. He looked away disgusted missing the terrible sight of the Grave Digger emerging in a completely new color, dark as well as luminous fluids covered his body, he carried the larger optical components from the Autobot Pawl had been transporting. “Casualties?” the Autobot demanded. He wield his own sword against Reaper’s weapon with grace and skill concentrating on a killing blow before this could continue on. The younger Autobot looked as though he was about to crash on a mental level. “You vile spineless component of the inferno! This day you will die and the evil you procure will die with you!” He sliced low catching Reaper off guard by his lower chest, his blade tore deep into the armor and hooked, he pulled back emphasizing the wound to its greatest degree. Reaper screamed in pain and stumbled away, he capped a free hand to his sparkling wound and looked to the Autobot across from him. He raised his blade to strike but not before the Autobot unleashed gun systems along his shoulders against his banged chest Pawl had wounded. Another cry came as he was lifted off his feet and dumped to his backside, his body limp. The Autobot braced his body and fired again, using everything in his powerlinx to get out his full kill. He was astonished to see Reaper roll forward and dive at him, taking a red bolt to his helmet in the process prior to lifting an arm to take the killing blow to his left gauntlet. He sliced from the right with his own weapon peeling back the armor on the Autobots chest. He gasped and stumbled away thrusting sword out on the Decepticons midsection driving home—missed when Reaper whirled aside and knocked him backwards with a strike from his sharp elbow, the spikes tore into the Autobots face as his forward thrust propelled him on, he toppled sideways, face sputtering, jaw clattering. The Mini-Con apart of the Autobot detached from his shoulder and stood by, crying out to his companion as he lay dying. “Hiatus, hold on! Just hold on. Y-you’ve recovered from worse before. The battle of Tyger Pax, remember that? You were torn in—” The encouraging words were broken by the malevolent Reaper as he grabbed the robot and tossed him across the road. “Put him out of his misery.” The Mini-Con generated sounds of terror as Grave Digger jumped into midair catching him before he could transform and fly away. He still struggled to escape, to gain some leverage and get away at least to relate to the Autobots of this terror that had entered their territory. These were his last thoughts as Grave Digger began butchering his body with teeth, claws, and a mixture of plasma bolts from the guns on his arms at point blank. “This was most amusing, you actually damaged me.” Reaper impaled the fallen Autobot through his lower chin and tore the blade in a crescent motion through the skull, the decapitated piece hung off by various wires and a twisted piece of metal. “That was a lot of fun.” He kept his sword where it had moved and reached down. He used the tip of his weapon to carve three slits around the insignia on the Autobots shoulder and tore his hand within the open metal twisting the symbol away from the portion he did not slice. The body of the Autobot convulsed at his feet, lasting signals of pain receptions hitting the cap of the processing hub without reason as to why. He smiled and took a welding torch from his lower back and brought up a blue flame, carefully he heated the armor at his wounded lower side and pressed this new badge to his open wound making certain the tear sealed even if it was not so pretty. He stepped from the draining fluids of the Autobot protector towards the disturbingly silent Pawl. “This was a warning,” Reaper said. He went to Pawl and lifted him by his damaged torso to hold his face near his. “My leader knows you have spies in our midst, or you wouldn’t be as you are.” He laughed. “What, you thought your ilk were the only ones that could infiltrate? Decepticons are all about deception.” He pressed his sharp thumb to the medics nose cutting into the metal. “We want your spies pulled out or more will die, but I would be most obliged by your foolishness if you fail to heed this warning.” He turned calling the ‘Grave Digger’ to his side and looked back at the poor medic one last time. “The only reason why I let you deliver this message is because you and I were born through the same process. I could have chosen anyone but I chose you.” He dropped Pawl and transformed into an attack helicopter and rose into the air. “Have fun with the rest of your life.” As he rose into the sky the Grave Digger latched to his side. Oddly, the Mini-Con carried a portion of another Mini-Cons body for a few meters before realizing he was holding it and dropped it. By accident Pawl looked to the broken remains that landed in front of him, the Mini-Con that had such optimism that his friend could be saved. His body was so savagely ripped that Grave Digger had left him in two pieces, the lower side of his ripped body in ravels of metal with cables and wires dangling, internal fluids spilling and sparkles came from the still functioning body. “H-Hiatus...” the Mini-Con chattered, “…s-stay…wi..th…me….” The bright green blaze in his optics began fading. Pawl watched the machine for a moment as it continued to sputter with life, slowly dying, still determined to live though his body refused to support him. It made the core of his senses sick to see the Mini-Con this way, he wondered what sort of adventures he and the Autobot had been on, what they had seen, what they had been doing before Dominous sent out that signal that brought them to death. Soon soldiers would arrive to assist the situation for better or worse, but it was already over. The Mini-Cons, the Autobot, two more Autobots were dead for no reason. He picked the frail remains up in his hands and held him until the blaze faded from his optics, and his clicks ceased altogether. He convulsed as he felt a wave of nauseous emotions, betrayal and despair were the strongest to hurtle into his mindset. He let the Mini-Con body lie at his knees and finally found the pistol he had been searching for, in his grotesque disgust he had avoided looking to the orange and blue robot with the back of his skull ripped out. He took the pistol and aimed it to his chin and pulled the trigger. If only he could have done that sooner.
