Transformers Anew

Discussion in 'Transformers Fan Fiction' started by Hakudoushi, Apr 28, 2007.

  1. Hakudoushi

    Hakudoushi Well-Known Member

    Aug 24, 2004
    Trophy Points:
    If you've ever read the Marvel TF comics some of this will seem fimiliar. I didn't totally rip them off but I took some ideas and concepts from it.

    Transformers Anew

    chapter 1

    The loud buzzing of the alarm startled the young man out of his deep sleep he had obtained after some hours of restlessness. As the drowsy eye teen lifted his head from his pillow his winced as the brightness of the room and squinted at the alarm. With a relinquishing groan he reached over and smashed his fist onto the table on which the clock lay. With that, the alarm ceased and the young man allowed himself a few pity moments as he tried to wake up enough to walk across the hall to the bathroom. A half hour later he emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam and headed back into his room to scour for clothes. He scanned the floor of his room and found a black ACDA T-shirt and threw it on. A few minutes later, and after a lot of digging, he found his favorite pair of jeans and hopped into those as well. Before leaving, he slashed on liberal amounts of cologne and fixed his hair.

    “How’s it going Rip Van Winkle?” A man asked, his older brother, as our boy entered the dinning room. “I heard your alarm go off an hour ago. You really need to stop staying up so late, Buster.”

    “Shut up,” The younger sibling hissed as he made his way over to the fridge and took out the milk carton. “I had to take a shower…”

    Buster took a long swig from the carton, ensuing a disgusted look from his older brother.

    “That’s disgusting,” He said returning to the newspaper spread out before him and taking a sip from his coffee. “Might as well finish it off now that it’s contaminated.”

    Buster sneered.

    “Where are you heading off too in that get-up?” Buster asked pointing to his brother’s new navy blue suit. After draining the remainder of the Milk and tossing the empty carton into the trash Buster grabbed a banana and sat across from his brother.

    “Interview,” He responded as he took another careful sip of his hot coffee. “You might want to try and getting a job too. It’s time you started using your summers for more then just sleep. Next year you’ll be thinking about College and administrators like to see a boy with good work habits.”

    “Whatever,” Buster sighed and started eating.

    After a few moments of silence, the older brother folded his paper, drained his coffee mug, and stood.

    “Well,” He said. “I’m off. I’ll be home around 7 O’clock or so.”

    “Kay,” Buster replied as he watched his brother slid open the glass door leading to the back yard. “Bye Spike.”

    “See ya.”


    The town or Erie was very much all America almost to the point where it was cliché. The streets of downtown were lined with old Victorian stile homes with gorgeous gardens with attendant gardeners always ready to spend a good portion of their summer day picking weeds from between their Begonias. Young paper boys rode their bikes down the sidewalks tossing their papers into yards with admirable aim.

    Buster Witwicky had just finished his junior year at Erie High and was looking forward to long months of blissful summer laziness. No research papers or mile runs, no jammed lockers or Pre-calculus homework and no tests! The next couple of months were his and his alone and not even his older brother Spike could tell him otherwise.

    Me? Get a job? Buster thought as he cruised down the sidewalk on his bike. Ha! Yeah right…

    As he turned right at the intersection the Penny arcade came into view. Good old Penny Arcade. So many summer afternoons spent in its dimly lit interior smelling like old cigarettes and stale soda. As he chained up his bike on the rack outside he noticed a certain black convertible parked in front.

    “Great,” He said. “Brent’s here…”

    Buster entered the building with a certain feeling of hesitation. If Brent Collins was at the Penny Arcade that meant that Sara Wikington was working the summer shifts again. His assumption was confirmed as he entered. Sure enough Brent Collins was sitting on a stool at the snack bar, dressed head to toe in Abercrombie with a tan leather jacket, talking to Sara Wikington as she filled glasses with soda. As the bells of the door opening and closing echoed through the room heads turned. Most turned away when they saw Buster, a regular, but Sara smiled broadly and waved. Buster waved back and made his way to the bar, but being careful not to sit anywhere near Brent.

    “How’re doing Buster?” Sara asked as she walked up to him. From the corner or his eye, Buster could see Brent glaring at him.

    “Alright,” Buster replied ignoring Brent. “You?”

    “Oh, you know. Sam old-Same old,” She replied. “So let me guess: Sprite with a cherry on the rocks?”

    Buster laughed.

    “7-up actually,” He corrected her. Sara cursed and stamped her foot playfully.

    “Right,” She said. “Coming up.”

    As Sara disappeared to fill his order, Buster noticed Brent coming over. As the much larger boy (in terms of build) sat next to Buster, he took a long drink from his soda.

    “How ya doing’ Buddy?” Brent droned.

    “Buster,” he corrected him.

    “Huh?” Brent asked.

    “My name’s Buster, not Buddy,” He replied shortly.

    “Whatever,” Brent waved away the mistake as if it was an annoying fly and then grinned. “I hear you’re turning 17 this Tuesday…”

    Buster groaned internally. How did Brent Collins find out when his birthday was…?

    “Of course your going to do the Cave right?” Brent asked smiling slyly. “It’s tradition!”

    ‘Doing the cave’ was a type of test high school kids went through sort of like a right of passage. It consisted of going into Briar’s Cave on the eve of their 17th birthday up in the hills and writing your name on the wall along with several generations of other names going all the way back to the fifties. Brent had done the cave last spring and Sara and her friend Heather had gone together last July. Hell, even Spike had gone through it. Of their junior class Buster was the only one who hadn’t done it yet. Briar’s Cave was actually an old mining shaft that had collapsed in the thirties and was rumored to be haunted ever since.

    “I wasn’t…” Buster began, but Sara came back with his drink.

    “What?” She asked. “You aren’t doing the cave? Why not? It isn’t really haunted. All there is in there are a bunch of rocks and rusted tools.”

    Buster shifted uncomfortably. They were cornering him into it.

    “I don’t think I want to…” He said turning the cherry around in the drink with the stem.

    “Nonsense!” Sara insisted sternly. “Like Brent Said! It’s Tradition. Besides, fifty years from now do you want to regret never doing it? By adding your name with the rest of you’re your adding yourself to history of our town!”

    Buster felt hot under the added gazes of Brent and Sara.

    “Next Monday we’ll all meet there,” Sara continued. “And you can do the cave then.”

    Sara made a goofy pleading face at Buster as he considered. Brent looked on amused at how uncomfortable all this was making Buster. If he knew one thing about Buster it was that he hated being the center of attention, which baffled him to no end.

    “All right,” Buster said finally. “We’ll do it next Monday…”

    “Yipee!” Sara clapped excitedly. “This is going to be so cool!”

    “Yeah,” Brent said. “Cool.”

    Like he thought it would, Monday night came too fast. Before he knew it he stood at the mouth of Briar’s cave, a flashlight in one hand, a can of spray paint in the other, and a camera strapped around his neck. After hearing of Buster’s expedition, Spike had insisted he bring a camera to take a picture of his name as soon as he’d signed the wall.

    What a waste of a perfectly good Monday night, he thought as more kids began emerging from the surrounding foliage of the cave. Sara and brought her friends and Brent had brought…well…everyone else: Jocks, Cheerleaders, and several kids who’d graduated last year and were already starting college. Buster groaned. Brent had done it again. He had no idea why, but for some reason Brent was very good at bullying without actually bullying anyone. Brent knew Buster would do something stupid while doing the cave and he wanted everyone who mattered to be there to witness it.

    “Everyone gather round!” Brent’s voice hollered over the various conversations going on at one. Almost immediately everything hushed and people listened. “It’s our little Buster’s 17th birthday tomorrow and tradition dictates that he performs one more task before stepping into manhood…”

    “The Cave!” Several; jocks screamed from the back of the crowd.

    “That’s right!” Brent continued. “For almost six generations of this town, the youth have signed the back wall of Briar’s cave and tonight we add another!”

    As everyone started clapping, Buster raised his hand embarrassed.

    “Ok Buster,” Sara took over. “All you have to do is take the main shaft down two levels and take a right. The left is caved in so be careful.”

    With everyone cheering and hollering behind him, Buster took up his equipment and stood at the threshold of the cave. The broken rail tracks lay rusted and twisted at his feet and with a deep breath he started walking, flashlight lighting the way.

    This is stupid, Buster thought to himself. There’s nothing here but old dead guys’ stuff! The farther he traveled the colder it seemed to get. It was a clear summer night and he’d only brought a light jacket. Down in the cave it was frigid and damp. He adjusted the camera around his neck and proceeded on and his shoes kicked up dirt as he made his way. He jumped slightly when he heard a noise that turned out to be an old shovel falling down across the tracks. He didn’t feel scared, but he did wonder how the shovel had fallen over in the first place. Sooner then not he reached the end of the first level. The path dropped several feet and to his left was a collapsed ramp. The wood had fallen away, but the tracks still had the distinct shape and were left hanging in mid air. Above his he was a giant granite boulder sticking out of the ceiling.

    “I hope it stays there,” Buster said aloud as he stared at the giant rock. After a few moments he decided to continue on. Sitting at the edge of the drop, Buster pushed off and landed heavily to the ground a good four feet down. After walking another level he came to the fork Sara had mentioned. To the left was an opening blocked by huge rocks. The right was a similar opening that was clear. Like Sarah had told him he took the right and walked another few kilometers. It didn’t take long before he found where the cave ended. He found himself in a large chamber decorated with colorful and ornate signature from thousands of people, a good few of them now dead. After some searching he found Brent’s, Sara’s, Heather’s, Spike’s, and even his Dads.

    James R. Witwicky class of ’67.

    He didn’t expect to find his Dad’s and it made Buster smiled to know even his dad had gone through the ritual. But no matter how hard he looked he couldn’t find his mothers. He gave up some time later and began preparing to write his own name.

    He had just finished the Y in his last name when there was a rumble. Buster stopped dead and listened. His heart began to pound. The rumble got louder and louder and then he began to feel the ground vibrate. They too got stronger and when it finally dawned on his what it was he ran out of the chamber. He braced himself up against the shaft of the tunnel and closed his eyes. Dust and little rocks were shaken from the walls and ceiling around, him making him cough. He heard a loud crash and for a sickening moment he began to think the cave was collapsing. And just as suddenly as it had started, the shaking stopped. Buster stood there for a few moments allowing his heart to calm down. He felt weak from fright and he slowly began to compose himself. Deciding this task wasn’t worth his life, Buster gathered his things and left without taking the picture.

    When he reached the fork in the path, he saw that the rocks of the collapsed left entrance had fallen away and revealed a freshly opened crevasse. Buster stood there, debating. The ground began to tremor again and without a second thought Buster made for the exit.
  2. Hakudoushi

    Hakudoushi Well-Known Member

    Aug 24, 2004
    Trophy Points:
    Transformers Anew

    chapter 2

    The next few days were hell. No one else had experienced an earthquake such as the one Buster had within the cave. Like Brent had hoped for, Buster had made a fool of himself and there were plenty of people to witness it. Luckily for Buster however, it was summer and therefore much easier to find ways to hide oneself until something like this blew over. From his experience he could expect this to hang around his head for rest of the month before someone else became the new bull for the Mockery rodeo.

    Spike had made several more attempts at getting Buster to get a summer job, but to no avail. But as the days passed, Buster seemed to keep coming back to the cave within his mind. His brain itched at what could possibly be beyond the collapsed entry way. Before the week was out, the young Witwicky had decided he would be the one to find out. A few days later Buster gathered his things and set off up the hills towards Briar’s cave. He took the same path he had the night he’d been down and in no time found himself standing in the threshold of the newly made entrance.

    The air was cool down this way, Buster realized, and not as damp as the rest of the cave. There was no breeze either. The tunnel was shorter then the others Buster found. He’d only gone a few meters when it ended. He found a large metal wall there sticking out from behind a sheet of rocks. It was littered with small dents as if the old miners had discovered it and hit it with pick axes. As he studied the wall he found a groove to one side. Thrill swept through him as he ran his finger down the groove as if disappeared behind rock. Looking around, Buster found a rusty old pick axe (probably one used to make the dents) and jammed the end into the groove. He began wiggling the axe back and forth trying to pry it open but to no avail. Disappointed and slightly pissed Buster threw the axe away and gave the metal door a hard swift kick. He turned to leave, frustrated, when there was a great moan of metal. Buster turned just in time to jump at out the way of the falling door. With a loud bang it hit the floor bellowing a large cloud of dirt into the air. Coughing and waving away the dirt, Buster aimed his flashlight into the newly made opening. Thrill and exhilaration filled him as he stepped onto the door and peered inside. It was dark, very dark, and cold, very cold. There was a strange stale smell Buster had never experienced before too. He stepped inside and aimed his light ahead of him. What he saw confused him. It looked like…a computer? He approached cautiously and realized not only was it a computer, but a very large computer. Buster’s head barely came up to the controls and the screen was easily ten feet tall/wide.

    “Wow…” He said looking around. He put the flashlight onto the counter of the computer and with some difficulty pulled himself up. He sat there panting for a while before picking up the flash light again and gazing over the controls. The buttons were the size of his entire hand and made of metal. There were strangely complex runes on the controls that reminded Buster of Chinese characters. He ran his hand over one button that looked like a tattoo his brother had gotten of the Japanese Kanji for ‘love’. Without meaning to, he pressed it. It sunk down into the control panel and the sound of electricity flowing through wires filled the room. The computer hummed to life and the giant screen lit up, blinding Buster and almost causing him to fall.

    “Holy shit!” Buster cursed, startled. “What the hell is this place?”

    Almost as if answering his question, the few operating lights flickered on, covering sections of the present space with dim light. As he scanned his surroundings with a sweeping look he saw something to the far left. What he saw made his heart feel ill; a giant figure, stationary slumped against a wall. He quickly jumped down off the controls and in somewhat of a trance, made his way over to it. The figure was very large Buster noted. And it wasn’t human…or alive it seemed…Buster hoped so anyway. Its chest had two wing like doors, one of which hung loosely by one hinge. The figure’s body was red with its head hidden behind a mask set firmly within a blue helmet. Its grey eyes stared at Buster from beyond death’s doorstep.

    “A…robot?” Buster breathed. His heart pounded in his ears. What had he discovered? What was this thing? Where did it come from? He was Terrified and amazed at once. It was an uncomfortable sensation…

    Before he could answer any of his questions however a faint light caught his eye. From within the giant’s exposed chest was a small dim light. Buster strained his neck trying to see what it was, but wasn’t able to do so. With a deep breath for courgae, Buster climbed up the giant’s leg and made his way over to its torso. When he reached the robot’s chest he pushed the wing like doors apart revealing a large cavity within. Inside said cavity was nothing Buster had ever laid his eyes on and never likely to again. At first glance it looked like a diamond the size of his head. It lay set inside a large holder with handles to each side made of a rusty orange color. A rush of euphoria swept through him and his arms went cold as he looked.

    “My god,” Buster breathed. He reached out to touch the giant jewel but quickly looked up into the giant’s face distinctly, to make sure the robot was indeed out for the count. To his horror, not only was the robots head looking at him but a faint glow was returning to his eyes. Buster stood frozen to the spot………but nothing happened. It just stared at him with its dim eyes. He stood there for what seemed like forever, too scared to make a move his heart pounding and temples throbbing. Buster turned back towards the giant jewel, reached out to touch it, and…..

    There was a bright flash…someone screamed…Pain…incredible pain…and then darkness…

    When Buster awoke his head ached terribly and he tastes blood. His body was stiff and he found difficulty simply sitting up. What had happened? Suddenly everything rushed back in a giant flood of remembrance and Buster winced as his head gave a sickening throb. Without even caring to look around, Buster picked himself up and left, never turning back once. When he surfaced, bruised and shaking, it was still light outside.

    ‘Good,’ Buster sighed. ‘I thought I might have been out for days…’

    When Buster got home however he discovered otherwise. As he opened the front door and stepped into the house, a voice boomed through the dwelling startling Buster a little.

    “BUSTER!” Spike barked from the living room. “Where the hell have you been?”

    With a feeling of dread, Buster made his way into the living room. Spike was sitting on the couch, still in his work clothes and looking a mess.

    “I’ve been worried sick!” He said getting up from the couch. “I called the Police and everything!”

    Police? Buster thought. I must have been out longer then I first thought…

    “Where were you for three days?” Spike asked, his face was absolutely red and his eyes were red and puffy as if he’d been crying. Buster felt guilt set in.

    Three days?! Buster thought. I was out for three days? Shit…

    “Where were you?” Spike asked, his tone softening. Before Buster could answer Spike pulled his younger brother close and hugged him. “You scared the shit out of me you bastard!”

    “I’m sorry,” Buster breathed. “I went for a walk and got lost…”

    Spike pulled Buster away and looked at him.

    “You got lost?” Spike asked.

    “I went up to the hills near Briar’s cave,” Buster explained. “To kind of vent, I guess. I walked for a couple hours and laid down to rest and fell asleep and when I woke up I couldn’t remember the way I’d come.”

    Spike grinned.

    “You knuckle-head,” Spike gave Buster a playful gab in the shoulder and walked over to the phone. “Better call the Sheriff then.”

    The rest of the week played out much like it would have even without Buster’s short-term absence. Buster kept to his solitude in the house preferring not to have to tell the story to everyone in town. Spike took care of that for him. Recounting his younger brother’s tale to everyone who’d listen and some who didn’t care either way, Spike made sure everyone knew. In his room, Buster spent him time on the computer looking for clues as to what it was he had actually encountered in the cave. Two days of net surfing had reaped in no results or answers. Buster began to feel frustrated.

    He picked up a pen and began to scribble on his desk. His desk was covered in gashes and drawings he’d done out of either boredom or anger…or both. His finished drawing one of the alien symbols he’d seen and got up to go to the restroom. When he tried to let go of the pen, the writing utensil stayed in his palm. Buster’s heart skipped a beat as he looked at the pen in his open palm. He flicked his hand and still the pen stayed. Thinking it may be sticky Buster picked the pen up with his other hand. As the pen left the surface of his palm he felt a familiar pulling sensation like when he used to play with magnets. Feeling slightly panicked now, Buster ran down stairs to Spike’s Desk in the dining room. Just as he’d expected Spike had paper clips strung over the entire surface of the desk. He ran his hands a few inches above the desk and as his hands past the paper clips they shot up and stuck to his hand.

    Buster gave out a cry of surprise.

    I’m a giant magnet! Buster thought desperately. What the fuck happened to me?

    As Buster pondered these desperate thought, trying to gain some sort of grip on reality, a message composed of short amplitude waves soared through the universe towards its intended receiver…and one it did not intend on a far away planet.

    Footsteps echoed through the metal halls of the hideout as a scout whose name was not of very much importance, especially during these desperate times, ran as fast as his hydraulics would allow. He had to see the commander…he’d been found. Optimus Prime had been found! Already a buzz was sweeping through the base as more and more Autobots were informed.

    The scout dashed madly down the hall, nearly tripping a few larger bots in the process. He slid to a stop in front of a pair of large double doors and pushed through into the darkness of the room lit only a small hologram projector which the meeting’s occupants were gathered around.

    “Commander Magnus!” The scout shouted as he barged, rather rudely, into the strategy meeting. “We found him!”

    The surrounding faces turned to the scout; a few with annoyance other with curiosity.

    “What are you babbling about scrapllet?” A grouchy old green bot growled from the back. “We’re busy here...”

    “At ease Kup,” A large blue mech soothed, raising his hand to silence any protest. He turned back to the smaller bot and in a kind voice replied “Please continue. Who has been found exactly?”

    “Optimus Prime, sir! We’ve just received an SOS from the Solaris.”

    The room fell deadly silent. Magnus’s mind went into recession as he tried to get his mind around the idea that his predecessor and true Prime was not only alive, but he had been located.

    “Ready a shuttle,” Ultra Magnus ordered, his voice course, as he rose from his seat. Without a word the room cleared as the various Autobots went about to fill their orders. Magnus stayed behind in the dark. He didn’t know how to feel about any of this. Optimus had been his friend almost since creation. They’d gone through Iacon Academy together and even when the war broke out they served under Sentinel Prime as loyal soldiers. When Sentinel had been cut down in battle Optimus was chosen by the matrix to lead them. Admittedly he had been jealous for a time, but when he saw how much grief and pressure his dear friend was under as new Prime, Magnus made sure he was there to aid wherever he was needed, whether it be in battle or when Optimus just needed some encouraging words. It had been the worst moment in his long life when Optimus had disappeared after the great Iacon Siege. They had taken the city from Decepticon control after many millennia and when the day was won Optimus had simply left. He took a small craft and disappeared along with the Autobot Matrix of Leadership. Some said Optimus simply cracked or Megatron had bugged him, but for whatever the reason Optimus Prime was gone and the Autobots were leaderless in a seemingly never ending conflict. By a seemingly unanimous vote, Magnus was made Autobot leader, but rejected the name of Prime.

    “The Matrix didn’t choose me,” He had said. “Therefore I cannot be a Prime. However, I would be honored to be you commander if that is what you all wish.”

    What this news of Optimus meant was anyone’s guess. If he was recovered and returned, would be want to reinstate himself as Autobot Commander and true Prime? Would Magnus let him?

    As this was going on a set of similar events were conspiring half way across the planet in Kaon.

    Dark halls made of Sulfur infused metal, giving it a rich dark color, adorned the room in which the dictator sat. The only light came from above and which the beam of light pierced the darkness, resting in a spot just in front of the large throne.

    “My Lord Megatron,” A monotone voiced subordinate called just to the side of the beam of light. Hints of silver an blue are all that can be made out of the figure. “Laserbeak has returned.”

    “And what does he have to report Soundwave?” A hoarse crackling voice asked.

    There was a moment of silence as the subordinate relayed Laserbeak’s report into an audiable repot.

    “Laserbeak reports that the Autobots have a received an SOS transmission from a vessel, Cybertronian in origin, in the SOL system. The one who sent the message is…Optimus Prime.”

    “What?!” Megatron stood erect looking down at his subordinate. “Impossible. Prime is dead.”

    “Negative my lord,” Soundwave replied. “Logic dictates that in order for the SOS to be sent Optimus Prime must be functioning.”

    “Don’t dictate logical theories at me,” Megatron barked. “Ready my troops and prepare my ship. Whether or not Prime is alive or not is irrelevant. We will destroy the Autobots before they even reach the planet.”
  3. Hakudoushi

    Hakudoushi Well-Known Member

    Aug 24, 2004
    Trophy Points:
    Transformers Anew

    chapter 3

    As the summer months dwelled on life seemed to come to a stationary normalcy for Buster. It had been two months and despite the odd phenomenon that seemed to plague him, Buster began to expect the strange and unusual. In fact, he began to feel nervous when nothing of the sort happened. The incident at Briars cave was out of sight and out of mind. While other kids spent the remainder of the summer break at pools or the beach, Buster preferred to explore his new abilities; which meant going into the junk yard and playing around with old cars, fixing them and such. The old man, Mr. Grappler, who ran the junk yard was happy to allow Buster to work on his cars.

    Buster spent this specific Saturday morning sleeping in. Spike had left for work some hours earlier leaving the 17 year old boy to fend for himself. When the clock finally hit 10:00 am Buster got up, showered, and dressed. Grabbing an apple on the way out, Buster made his way to the Junk yard. Happily eating his apple on the way and tossing it into a bin as he went. Even as he walked, you could tell there was defiantly something different about Buster Witwicky. He was more confident for one and much less reclusive when spoken to. He smiled to people and carried himself with more self confidence. And why shouldn’t he be happy? It was summer, the sun was out, life was good…oh and he had super powers. The simple thought of it made him giddy. The night before he’d done something remarkable that in all honesty was a complete accident. He’d made a robot. A robot made out of Spike’s old Computer. He had been sitting on his bed reading an article in a magazine when Spike called him down to move his old computer to the garage to make room for the new Dell he’d ordered. As Spike left to go retrieve the computer from the store, Buster looked down at the clunky old thing and had an idea. He concentrated and felt a small buzz in his head accompanied by a hot flash. He’d intended to make the computer sprout legs, but when Buster looked down there standing up right was a two foot tall robot. The robot looked up into its creator’s face...and smiled.

    “Hello,” It said.

    Slightly panicked, Buster quickly hid the robot in his room and told him to be quiet.

    “Of course Master,” He complied.

    “I’m not your master,” Buster told it. “My name’s Buster.”

    “What is my name?” It asked. An honest question, but one Buster didn’t feel comfortable answering. He was still in shock of having actually created a sentient artificial life without meaning to.

    “Uh…what do you want your name to be?”

    “I don’t know…” The small robot asked. “You are supposed to give me one I think.”

    “Uh…um…O-OK……you can be Clank.” Buster decided. “Your name is Clank.”

    “Clank.” The robot repeated. “Yes, I like that.”

    At the moment, Clank was in Buster’s closet sleeping...or offline…or however you put it. In the very short time he’d spent with Clank, Buster couldn’t help but feel good. Not only was Clank nice, polite, and actually very intelligent, he was absolutely loyal. He left this morning telling Clank he might get a little brother today if he was good and stayed quiet. Which was half true. Buster had thought about making another robot. One a little bigger…but had second thoughts about the consequences. Another thought being if he did make another robot, where would he keep it? He couldn’t keep them at home and the junk yard wasn’t even an option. In the end Buster decided that if was going to make another robot it wouldn’t be too big…

    “Hello,” Buster greeted Mr. Grappler as he walked into the Junk yard. Mr. Grappler was elbow deep inside an old Ford’s undercarriage as Buster entered.

    “Hello Mr. Witwicky,” Hank Grappler replied enthusiastically as he pushed out from under the truck. “You working on that old Junker again?”

    “Yes sir,” Buster said as he walked into the yard. He’d fixed the old Junker a week ago, but he didn’t want Hank to think he would fix every car in the lot so he kept it a secret. As he walked passed broken cars, dishwashers, mattresses, and box spring Buster contemplated what he would use to make the new robot. Using Spike’s computer to make Clank wasn’t a smart decision cosmetic-wise. Clank was adequately named; his body was square and awkward with limited mobility. This new robot needed to be made of something that would make a sleek and mobile robot. And he found it too. In the back near the fence was an old Go-cart. It was Red with black striped down the sides. It was defiantly banged up, but Buster could fix it and when it was all done it would make a great robot. He dragged the Go-cart over to the area where the, newly fixed, Junker was. Situating himself so he could see the whole cart Buster closed his eyes and allowed the now familiar sensations take over. When he opened his eyes the Go-cart looked relatively the same save for the obvious repairs. The tires were whole and inflated and the engine was operating now too.

    Now for the fun part. Rubbing his palms together and blowing on them for good luck, Buster put his hands on the hood and closed his eyes tight. Again he found experienced the hot flash and the buzzing, but something more…he felt fatigued. When he opened his eyes he swayed and fell to the ground. Before he completely blacked out though he caught a glimpse of the Go-cart…nothing had changed. It hadn’t become a robot. What went wrong?

    When he awoke he found Hank staring up at him, pale and with a look of worry on his face.

    “You alright son?” He asked. “What happened?”

    “I…I dunno…” Buster replied sitting up favoring his head with one hand. He looked around and saw that the Go-cart was gone. “Where’s the Go-cart?”

    “Go-cart?” Hank asked. “What Go-cart?”

    “The one I was working on,” He replied. “It was right here!”

    Hank shook his head.

    “I think you hit your head or something, you’re not making any sense…” Hank put his hand to Buster’s forehead. “Boy you got a fever. What are you doing outside in this condition? You better get home and into bed.”

    Slightly dazed and defiantly confused, and a little disappointed, Buster walked home all the while wondering what went wrong. When he got home Clank was waiting for him in his room.

    “Did you bring him?” The little robot asked excitedly. “Did you bring my brother?”

    “Sorry Clank,” Buster said sadly. “We’ll have to try later. Apparently I’ve got a cold or something…”

    Clank made an odd noise that Buster took to be a gasp.

    “Then I’ll turn on the heater!” Clank offered making Buster smile despite himself.

    “No Clank,” Buster explained. “Not like temperature cold and hot. A cold as in a virus humans get that makes them ill.”

    “A virus?” Clank squeaked. If he’d been human he would have paled. “Viruses are awful!”

    Buster laughed.

    “Yeah, they are,” He said as he got into bed. “I wonder though…

    “I didn’t have a fever this morning…but I suddenly had one after I…”

    Clank tipped his head to one side curiously.

    “After you what?” He asked.

    Buster shook his head.

    “Never mind,” He pulled the covers over his head and after only a few moments fell right asleep.

    His dreams were strange and frightening. He found himself in a large white hall. Everything was blindingly bright and it took Buster a moment to realize there were figures surrounding him, all of the same brightness of the hall. Their features were mute and hard to distinguish from one another. The most obvious feature about them however was how tall they were. Buster immediately thought of the giant robot he’d encountered in Briar’s cave.

    “Who are you?” Buster’s voice was a whisper but it echoes as if he’d shouted.

    “We are,” The voices boomed causing Buster to wince and cover his ears. “The beginning and the end…we are Alpha and Omega…we are the shards of the great creator’s spark. We are the Matrix…and you have been chosen.”

    Buster didn’t understand. Chosen? By who?

    “By us,” The voices answered Buster’s questions. They can hear my thoughts? Buster thought desperately. To which they answered “Yes. There is nothing to which we are deaf. Fear not little one. We come here to deliver a warning.”

    “A warning? What warning?”

    “Darkness approaches from the skies that seeks to destroy us,” The Matrix answered. “Whilst we dwell within you, you are in mortal danger. The Void will seek to destroy you and in doing so, destroy us.”

    “What darkness? What void? I don’t understand!”

    “The Void is coming for us…for must find Primus’s decedents…find the Autobots… the Autobots…”

    The image of a red face blared into Buster’s mind as the whiteness melted away into the darkness of his unconscious mind. When his eyes opened he didn’t immediately recall his dream but as he sat up and looked around it all flooded back. A strange noise caught his attention and he looked over to find Clank curled up beside him. With a smile, Buster got up, careful not to disturb the little bot, and went to the bathroom. As he showered he allowed the water to wash over him as his mind focuses on his dream.


    When he re-entered his room Clank wasn’t in the bed anymore.

    “Clank?” Buster called out looking around. Suddenly a hand reached out from behind him and pulled him back. “Hey!”

    Buster struggled against the metallic grip and managed to turn around and came face to face with a robot slightly taller then him; red with black stripes. Buster opened his mouth to cry out in surprise but the robot reached out and covered his mouth.

    “Quiet!” He said. “You’ll alert the other one.”

    Spike, Buster thought.

    “So it did work,” Buster breathed as he pushed the robot’s hand away. “Where did you go after I passed out?”

    “When I found myself alone with you unconscious I panicked and hid. The elder human came by a little while later and you left. I tried to follow but I got lost and ran into some…trouble.”

    Great, Buster groaned internally.

    “What’dya do?” Buster asked. The robot put his hands onto his hips.

    “I didn’t do anything!” He replied offended. “Those robotic creeps grabbed me! They’d have killed me too if I hadn’t gotten away. They’re looking for you.”

    Buster’s heart sank.

    “Looking for me? Why?” He asked thinking about the dream. “What do they want?”

    “I don’t know, they just said they wanted to find my creator,” He replied. “I spent the last few hours trying to find this place. They could have followed me here so we need to go before I’m proven right.”

    “I can’t leave without Clank!” Buster replied.

    “Oh,” The robot turned around. “This?”

    When he turned back he had Clank tied up with duct tape.

    “Hey!” Buster reached out and took Clank, carefully de-taping him. “Are you alright?”

    “Why’d you make him so much bigger then me?!” Clank asked. “I’m supposed to be the older brother!”

    “Brother?” The new robot asked.

    “Long story,” Buster replied. “And no time to tell it. Ok, you said these guys were after me? Did they have red faces?”

    The robot shook his head.

    “No, but they did have purple faced insignias,” He said. “Why?”

    Buster shook his head.

    “We need to find the kind of guys you saw only they have red faced insignias.” He explained. Before they could continue any talking Buster rushed over to the side of his bed and retrieved his backpack, emptying its contents. “In here Clank.”

    “I don’t want to…” Clank refused.

    “No time for arguing,” Buster said, stuffing the struggling robot into the bag and zipping it shut. “You can’t be seen. Now what to do about you…”

    “No need,” The robot said. And then he did something amazing. In one fluid motion and a blur of moving parts the robot turned and changed, split and shifted, from a 6 foot robot to the Go-cart which Buster had made his out of.

    “Wow…” Buster breathed. “I didn’t know you could do that…”

    “Do what? I wanna see!” Clank called out from inside the back pack.

    “Quiet Clank,” Buster said sternly. “Where do you suppose we go?”

    “Hard to say,” The robot said. “The guys who nabbed me could transform too. Into cars and such. If we go to a populated area we may be able to hide from them, but it won’t do much good if the transform anyway. A secluded spot has it’s potential, but if we’re found they’ll be able to catch us easily. Either way it’s your call.”

    Buster couldn’t believe this was happening. His entire reality had shifted roughly from strange and unusual to down right dangerous. Buster felt ill and his body didn’t react right as if in shock. Which is might have very well been. Luckily Spike was at work and wasn’t in any immediate danger, especially if Buster left.

    “We’ll go to the mall,” Buster offered. “We can hide there. It’s Saturday so there will be plenty of people.”

    “Let’s go then.”

    Riding inside the Go-cart (which Buster felt slightly embarrassed) was a unique experience to say the least. In a small part of his mind he found it remarkably unbelievable he was there at all. As they drove down the road, keeping admirable pace with traffic, a thought hit Buster.

    “I haven’t given you a name,” He said to the Go-cart.

    “I haven’t a use for a name,” The Go-cart replied. “But if you want to give me one go ahead.”

    After some thought Buster considered a name that fit the personality would be best. He’d named Clank for his appearance, he should name this one based more on personality. This was a difficult task considering they’d only been interacting the past few minutes. But one thing was certain, this bot wasn’t like Clank. While Clank was dependent and child-like, this bot seemed more mature and independent and kind of stubborn. What made their personalities so different? Surely size couldn’t play that much of a role. Nevertheless, Buster thought of the perfect name.

    “Speedbump,” Buster replied. “I’ll name you Speedbump.”

    “Speedbump?” Came the reply. He seemed more amused them annoyed. “Since when was naming your creations after random unanimated objects a custom?”

    “You’re stubborn,” Buster replied. “That’s why. And it suits you. Just like Clank’s name suits him…and I mean that in a nice way.”

    Buster added the last part when Speedbump began to laugh.

    “You should be more respectful to him,” Buster continued. “He is your older brother.”

    “Do you obey your older brother?”


    “I rest my case.”

Share This Page