Transformers: Spiral

Discussion in 'Transformers Fan Fiction' started by Karhukjnsi, Nov 26, 2010.

  1. Karhukjnsi

    Karhukjnsi Universal Wrestler

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    Chapter 1: Distillation
    written by: Atom "Karhukjnsi" Rayz
    edited/proofread by: The K.R.E.W.

    Iacon is silent this night - not even the entertainment district is run about in it's usual scuffle. Two guards stand on duty in the watchtower above the Decagon, the Autobot-controlled global defense center of Cybertron.

    One of the 'bots grows restless, "It's so dead out here."

    "I hear ya, Farsight, though tonight is the anniversary of the Great Shutdown, so maybe everyone's with their families?"

    "Come on Hubcap, you know this holiday isn't that big."

    "Well, to some, yeah, but, as the Nemudian Urtuskians say 'Chey uhl undple-'...hm?"

    Hubcap turns, his audio receptors are amongst the best in the Autobot forces.

    "You pickin' up something, Hubcap?", Farsight asks.

    "Yeah, look about 14 degrees North by Northwest."

    Farsight is silent.

    "Comeon Farsight, you got good optics whaddya- oh god..."

    Hubcap's nonchalant demeanor drops in horror as he turns to Farsight, whose optics have burst from within, and his lifeless, colorless shell remains standing. Hubcap stares, frozen in disbelief of this nightmare; how could anything sneak up on them?

    Suddenly, a brief and faint scraping of metal is heard above. Hubcap quickly looks upwards, and a thin syringe penetrates his skull immediately after his doing so - quickly and painlessly. Fear overpowers the guard's entirety, but not to the point of total panic and loss of function. Hubcap quickly gathers himself, frozen in the position where he stands, looking upwards at the syringe protruding from the shadow on the ceiling. He begins to focus his optics into the shadows, and sees a black and yellow mechanical condor,

    "Buzzsaw...", Hubcap utters to himself.

    The sadistic bird, Buzzsaw, injects a concentrated dose of dark energon into Hubcap's processor - precisely calculated to overcharge the center controlling the guard's fine-tuned audio receptors and terminate his spark right where he stands. Unlike the painless penetration from the needle's insertion, the injection is anything but. The yellow color quickly flushes away from Hubcap's shell, and his face turns from a bright and lively red to a dull, cold grey.

    Inside the Decagon, several Autobots sit carefully inspecting monitors and computers in a room with a view over Iacon. Two elderly, stout 'bots stand in the center, watching over the others: one, short, donning an olive green and gold paint job; the other - tall and red.

    "Staff Sergeant Sandstorm." says the tall red 'bot to one of the soldiers, in a Texan accent.

    "Yes, Major Ironhide!" exclaims one of the soldiers at a monitor as he stands.

    "Patch me to Hubcap, him an' Farsight haven't reported in, yet." Ironhide commands.

    "Right away, sir!"

    "It's not uncommon for Hubcap to miss a report, you know." says the short 'bot, next to Ironhide.

    "I know Brawn, it's Farsight missin' one I'm worried about, he's usually on the dot with this sort o' stuff."

    "I have First Lieutenant Hubcap on the line, sir!" Sandstorm relays to Ironhide.

    "Thank ya, Sandstorm. Lieutenant Hubcap, what's yer status up there?"

    "A little too quiet out here, Major, I'm not hearing much and Farsight isn't spotting anything too dastardly out there, save for a drunk or two.", Hubcap's voice reports over the PA.

    "You an' Farsight were late on your report, what happened?" Ironhide instinctively inquires.

    "You know how I am, Major, keepin' my peers distracted, haha."

    Farsight's voice is heard in the background of the transmission. "Oh scrap, that's right, I missed my report! Thanks a lot, junkhead!"

    Ironhide snickers at Farsight's comment,
    "Alright, you two, just make sure to keep on time, I don't wanna have to keep checkin' in. Y'hear me?"

    "Roger that. Hubcap, signing out."

    "'Roger'? When did Hubcap pick that up?" asks Brawn.

    "Ahh, hell if I know, that guy's all sorts o' weird" Ironhide replies.

    Without eyes over the city, a herd of shady figures begin to move - slowly, yet steadily. Large crowds of restless individuals flow throughout the city, encompassing every alley and street - the glow of their bodies cover the surrounding buildings in a sea of purple light, and their low-volume growls pollute the air. Their hands are clutching various weaponry, both of the firearm, and melee variety; coddling them as if they were young protoforms. The eyes in the Decagon turn to the window over the city, horrified at the sea of glowing, haunting bodies in the streets below them.

    The recruits at the monitors talk amongst themselves in confusion, their screens show no activity of any sort in the streets. They appeared to move fast, swarming into the wide roads in nearly the blink of an optic. Realization sinks in, all too late - their security visuals had been hacked. A monstrous, sinister character clad in white and grey armor walks through the crowd, unchallenged. The armored warrior raises his arm, aiming his large, black cannon, towards the Decagon command center.

    "Activate emergency protocol!" Brawn commands to the soldiers.

    "HIT THE DECK!" Ironhide vociferates.

    The large figure fires a blast of fusion plasma into the command center, tearing through the glass windows before the armored shutters close into place - destroying various monitors within its path.

    The assailant raises his arm to the sky, and roars to his subordinates with a thunderous rage, "DECEPTICONS, SWEEP AND CLEAR!"

    End Chapter.
     
    Last edited: Jul 25, 2015
  2. Stonecrusher

    Stonecrusher Well-Known Member

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    Why the name, SPIRAL?
     
  3. herugrim

    herugrim Defiler of Energon

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    Interesting start. Could probably use some more 'Cybertronian' terminology but that's not really imortant. So far appears well written.
     
  4. Karhukjnsi

    Karhukjnsi Universal Wrestler

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    Transformers: Spiral: SeaWolf exerpt

    Jazz:
    Air! Yo, Chica, the Zetas hittin’!

    Airrazor:
    Yuuuuup. Got ‘Buster runnin’!

    Roadbuster:
    Eat lead, dirtbags!
    AHHAAHH DIRT! FROG-LICKIN’ DIRT!

    Kup:
    That ain’t nothin’, lad. You ever jump into a North American bayou? That still leaves a little grime in my creases, but life’s meant to explore different planets in ships of varying hygienic harmony. Don’t just stop at the metal, ‘Buster.

    Roadbuster:
    Hey, we’s of the metal, from the metal, for the metal. With the energon in my veins, I will keep that metal with dignity, respect, and give it the resilient spirit ––

    Jazz:
    ‘Buster, keep the mineral biology to holiday meal prayers. Now, we gotta bust loose!

    Roadbuster:
    Slug-Shower comin’ up!

    Kup:
    He’s such a big guy already, why does he need a suit before learning basics?

    Roadbuster:
    So that even when these things bust down, you got a Frenzied Wrecker inside as a secondary timebomb.

    Jazz:
    That–’s actually a pretty cool way to put it.

    Roadbuster:
    Aww, slag. Thanks, boss.

    Airrazor:
    Really, it’s just, “timebomb”, I’d think, no need for unnecessary details or similies.

    Jazz:
    You ever been a timebomb, Air? I have, woo… Those poor Jyentr… They weren’t “durable” as much as “extra-juicy”.

    Airrazor:
    That sounds really gross. Ugh…their warm ‘casing'–– the *wretch* excretions.

    Jazz:
    Just look at the stars, mi amor. Think of the cosmic metal burning and churning in the plasmic furies.

    Airrazor:
    Yeah, solar magma IS calming.

    Jazz:
    ‘Bee! Where you at, brotha?

    Bumblebee:
    Fixit’s running hard, but the Wheelie-speak is…I don’t know how to get through it.

    Jazz:
    'Bee, still got two Lancers to swat, do you have anything for us?

    Bumblebee:
    We can make a 1/5th jump.

    Jazz:
    I’ll take 1/10th, good news is good news. Hit 'em!

    Airazor:
    All crew, ship jump in five, stabilizers at 92.

    Kup:
    Last call!

    Roadbuster:
    Gas tanks! YEAH! Toasty Greys!

    Kup:
    You know, sometimes there’s honor in sparing your quarry of overkill.

    Roadbuster:
    Yeah, but if they didn’t want to be fragile, they should’ve picked metal over–– isn’t it like a hard rubbery goo?

    Kup:
    Not the point, Lad. The point is, those were loyal beasts, trained and broken by a tyranny. They weren’t the true champions of their system. May as well be shootin’ a scared electre-pup.

    Roadbuster:
    Aww, Pluto, I didn’t know they were basically pups once. I thought they were like packs of Lunelipunes, before integrating with primitive golems.

    To be continued…
     

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