Transformers: The Descent.

Discussion in 'Transformers Fan Fiction' started by Hakudoushi, Aug 2, 2007.

  1. Hakudoushi

    Hakudoushi Well-Known Member

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    Yes everyone, it is another TF2 fic. There are so many! It's mind boggling! o_O ;


    I've gotten some great ideas from people and have crafted together my own sequal to the film. Credit must go to my older brother for his random comments about a certain cycloptic Decepticon that essentially gave me a plot! Yay for older brother's having some use!

    Enjoy.



    The Descent


    Chapter one

    A young man sat on the side of the road, head in his hands, fingers clutching at striped of sandy brown hair. Next to him the paramedic was stripping off her white rubber gloves and disposing of them in a small bag before placing it neatly within the large case next to her. His upper forearm bore a square of white gauze, stained with a small circle of blood, and secured with a long strand of medical tape. Blue and red lights illuminated all around him with the occasional whoop whoop of an ambulance or police car as they arrived or left the red zone. Cars and trucks, dozens of them, lay dented, bruised, battered, and broken all along the interstate. Next to a few of the more seriously damaged cars were white sheets, covering the bodies of the few poor souls, a passenger or driver, who had not made it.

    An older gentleman dressed in a state trooper’s uniform stepped up to the young man, a clip board and pen in one hand. He pushed the pen onto the board with a soft click and looked down at the man below him.

    “Mr. Rogers?” The trooper asked.

    The young man looked up and nodded. “Yes officer?”

    “Could you tell me what happened here tonight?”

    The young man shook his head. “I’m not sure what happened, sir. A white car cut me off and slammed his brakes suddenly. I swerved to avoid rear ending him and someone else smashed into me. I didn’t even realize there were other wrecks until I got out of the car.”

    The office nodded as he scribbled notes onto the clipboard. “Seeing as you’re only one of five who’re not on their way to the hospital, could you tell me what kind of car it was?”

    “A white Pontiac…firebird I think,” The young man said, straining his mind to recall. “And there wasn’t a license plate either.”

    “Are you sure it was white?” The trooper asked, raising his eye brow dubiously.

    “Absolutely,” Said the young man. “It was white and had no license plate.”

    The trooper added another note to his clipboard.

    “Did you see any other car after the white firebird?”

    “No sir.”

    “If you would just sign this for me Mr. Rogers we’ll have what we need and you’ll be free to go.”

    Mr. Rogers nodded and reached up to accept the clip board. Signing his name in the appropriate places, he handed it back to the trooper who took it back and left after nodding to him with a small tip to his hat.

    As the trooper slipped into his car, he sat the clipboard down next to four identical ones. Three of which had not seen the car that hit them while the two that had seen them presented conflicting information. One claimed the perpetrator to having driven a white Pontiac Firebird…the other claimed it was black.

    Now which one was it?


    On a hill overlooking the interstate, two pairs of glowing headlights gleamed in the night darkness. From the light there colors were revealed; one a glowing bright yellow while the other adorned a gleaming red finish. The car models were masked by the darkness as they beheld the scene below. As more human law officials and emergency transport came and went, removing the injured and deactivated, the two observers grew bored. After a moment, one of the headlights backed up, turned around, and left. The other pair lingered for a moment before following its companion, speeding up with a rev of its engine to catch up.

    On the opposite side of the interstate, unblocked by the massive car pile ups, the yellow car stopped and waited for a gap in southbound traffic before flooring out of the foliage and onto the road, followed closely by its red partner.

    In the street lights, they were revealed in their fullness; matching red and yellow Lamborghinis, license plates MIA. As they speed along down the road, they passed a green road sign with reflective lettering in a cheerful greeting:

    Welcome to Tranquility.

    ((((0))))

    Seventeen-twenty Heather Wood circle was the pinnacle of suburban life; a beautifully kept home, blooming flowers, and a stylish stone path leading to a (recently replaced) stone fountain, glittering water streaming out through the mouths of stone lions in the pool below. In the drive way of Seventeen-Twenty Heather Wood Circle was a car; A Camaro to be exact; a gleaming yellow 2009 Chevrolet. Parked under the window of its owner, the Camaro sat idly on its tires enjoying, for the moment, the peace and quiet that lazy Sunday afternoon presented.

    A loud crash and an equally loud curse came from the window just above. A feminine voice called out from another part of the house, though easily audible from outside.

    “Sammy?” Judy Witwicky called. “Are you OK sweetie?”

    “Fine!” Came the youthful voice of Sam Witwicky.

    “What was that noise?”

    “Uh…bookcase fell over….woke me up,” Sam replied.

    “What are you doing still in bed?” Mrs. Witwicky demanded. “It’s 12:30 for goodness sake!”

    “I’m up now!”

    The Camaro chuckled silently to himself. Despite the peaceful quietness, there never failed to be some sort of commotion to capture his attention and more often then not, offer a little amusement.

    “I’m going to the store Sammy,” Sam’s mother called as she exited from the back porch and came into view of the Camaro. “I’ll be back in a couple hours. Don’t forget your chores either sweetie.”

    “’Kay,” Sam yelled back.

    Judy Witwicky walked passed the Camaro, stopped to admire the gleaming paint, before moving on to her own car. Sighing she looked back at the Camaro.

    “It’s a sad day when kids have nicer cars then their parents,” she said as she slid into the worn leather interior of her red Buick.

    As the woman peeled out of the drive way and headed down the road, Sam appeared at the window, rubbing his hands through his hair. He eyed his mother’s car as she drove off before looking down at the Camaro. Leaning against the sill the boy sighed.

    “You’re one lucky S.O.B., y’know that ‘Bee?” Same told him with a tired expression borderline irritated. “You don’t have a mother to nag you all the time…”

    Bumblebee’s voice rang clear from the speakers. “No, but there is Ratchet.”

    Sam stared down at the car for a moment before laughing out loud. “Touché.”

    “Are you planning on staying inside all day then?” The Camaro asked.

    Sam considered. “Kinda, but I don’t know. Not feeling very spontaneous today.”

    “I thought you couldn’t wait for summer?” Bumblebee asked incredulously. “You wouldn’t stop talking about your education intermission.”

    Sam was silent for a moment as his brain worked out the translation. “Summer vacation is weird that way. When you’re in school all you can think about it all the cool things you’ll do with the free time and once it rolls around…well all you really want to do is sleep.”

    Bumblebee’s engine rumbled in the Transformer equivalent to a snort. “You’ve already exceeded your recharge requirements ten fold.”

    Sam smiled. “You pull a three nighter trying to finish a research paper on the global geography and how it’s shaped different cultures…and then we’ll talk. Besides, if you’re so bored go for a cruise.”

    Bumblebee’s engine hummed low. “You’ve had plenty of time (two weeks in fact) to recover from that episode of recharge deprivation. Besides, Optimus said not to go anywhere without you.”

    “You have that hologram thingy…just….make a faux me,” Sam countered.

    “Not the point.”

    “What point? That you’re trying to goad me into going somewhere just ‘cause you’re bored out of your mind…er - processor?”

    Bumblebee sighed, a human trait he had picked up over the years of hiding among them. “Is it so much to ask not to have spend all day parked in your drive way? There’s an entire world out there!”

    “And there’s a nice comfy bed in here…” Sam replied. “Look, I promise we’ll go somewhere tomorrow OK? Mikaela wants to go to that road show at the convention center anyway.”

    “You’re concern for my sanity is overwhelming,” Bumblebee said sarcastically. “But afterwards we go somewhere secluded so I can stretch. I spent years in this mode and the first chance I get to stand up your government places that ordinance over us.”

    “Can you blame them?” Sam asked. “I mean, our government’s pretty jumpy about normal Earth problems and with alien robots hanging around now…well, I’m honestly surprised they didn’t lock you up at Area 51 and just leave you there to rot.”

    Bumblebee shuttered at the statement, recalling the event when he himself had been taken by the former government agency Sector Seven and subjected to scans and prodding only to be freed by Sam moments before more…invasive operation were implemented. He was grateful to Sam for coming when he did, that moment having been the most startling in the young Autobot’s life since the incident on Cybertron that lead eventually to this mess. The same incident had cost him his voice, only to be repaired by the Allspark many many years later on Earth.

    The Allspark…their only hope to rebuild and return to Cybertron, gone; destroyed, along with Megatron. If that was the price to be paid to rid the stars of the universal equivalent of the ‘boogie man’ then Bumblebee felt it was a fair trade. The only remnant of the once mystic and so sought after relic was a small fragment, a shard, of which Optimus kept with him. Whether the Autobot commander kept it as a reminder or because he had a small glimmer of hope that perhaps it still contained some of the cube’s powers, Bumblebee had no way of knowing.

    Optimus Prime and Ratchet were, at the moment, scouring the North American continent for any signs of others like then having found their way to Earth. Using the human’s crowded air waves to follow reports of objects falling from the sky. Most ended up being nothing more then normal space debris, burning up in Earth’s layered atmosphere and a good many never actually making impact before they disintegrated. Ironhide had taken Captain William Lennox, one of the human soldiers who aided them in the last battle in Mission city a few weeks ago, back to his home in Nevada and spent several days observing the family before leaving. Currently he was taking a tour of the American country side, looking around the natural terrain of earth that was so different from that of Cybertron and many of the planets they had visited or come across in their wanderings.

    Sam disappeared from his window and reappeared in the kitchen a few moments later and began scrimmaging through the contents of the fridge finally pulling out a take out box with generic Chinese designs on the side. Opening the box and eyeing its contents he gave it a faint sniff before tossing it into the microwave. Bumblebee observed through the glass doors as his young charge went through the daily routine of refueling. Those around Sam’s age apparently needed a lot of fuel…and often, along with excessive recharge. Having never had to experience robotic puberty, Bumblebee simply could comprehend the energy expenditure of a modern teenager.

    There was a short meep meep from behind him and Bumblebee switched his optics to his back tail lights. A powder blue moped, one large dent on the right side, pull up the drive way and stop right behind him. A human female pulled the protective helmet and readjusted her hair before getting off and strolling along side Bumblebee, running her hands over the roof.

    “Hey Bumblebee,” Mikaela greeted with a smile. “Sam up yet?”

    “Barely,” Bumblebee replied.

    Mikaela’s smile widened. “Bored?”

    “Very.”

    “Let’s see if we can fix that,” She said as she walked up the steps to the sliding glass doors. Peering in, she caught sight of Sam and waved. The young man stared for a moment before hurrying over to the door and pulling it aside.

    “Hey,” Sam said slightly flustered.

    Mikaela eyed the boy in his PJs. “Oversleep?”

    Sam looked down at himself and blushed. “Uh…heh…a little maybe.”

    “Well go get dressed,” Mikaela urged. “Let’s go for a cruise.”

    Sam smiled, nodded and turned to go, but turned back to her as if to say something, thought better of it, and proceeded to exit out of the kitchen. “Sure, just a sec.”

    As Sam hurried up the stairs back up to his bedroom Mikaela turned and grinned at Bumblebee.

    “There,” She said, victoriously.

    Bumblebee’s engines gave an approving rev. “How is it that he listens to you and blatantly ignores me?”

    Mikaela giggled. “What can I say? Sam’s a pushover.”

    “What does that make me?”

    “Someone who doesn’t know how to push.”

    (((((((((((((((((0)))))))))))))))))

    The Appalachian mountain range was the great boundary separating the east and west. Miles and miles of untouched wilderness spread out in all directions; untouched by modern man. Birds of prey spread their wings to catch gusts of wind as they went about their morning hunt. Deer leaped around the forest floor, bounding agilely through the foliage in search of sweet grass and berries.

    The peaceful morning silence was abruptly cut off as a loud crash echoed through the valley. A tree fell unceremoniously to the floor with the culprit staring down at it annoyed as if it was the tree’s own fault.

    “These trees are beginning to grind on my patience,” Ratchet admitted as he stepped over the fallen giant and went on to follow his leader just a few yards ahead.

    Optimus Prime turned his head to look at the medic and smiled. “We’re nearly at the location Ratchet.”

    “It’s time like this when I wish Ironhide was here to clear a path,” Ratchet admitted. “His oh so precious cannons would come in oh so handy right now.”

    “Come now my friend,” Optimus chuckled. “It would be shameful to destroy such beautiful landscape for the sake of saving your patience; what little of it remains that is.”

    Ratchet glared. “Earthen terrain wasn’t designed to our advantage that is certain. Beautiful from a distance, yes, distinctly hindering up close.”

    “Just a little further,” Optimus urged as he trudged onward, bending low to avoid a large tree branch.

    “Do you believe this to be genuine landing?” Ratchet asked.

    “I cannot say, though I do hope it is so,” Optimus admitted. “And it to be Autobot.”

    Ratchet nodded with a grunt. “Agreed.”

    “I knew the moment I sent that message,” Optimus replied. “That it was arrogant to believe only Autobots would intercept, encoded or not. We must be prepared for anything.”

    “Was that your reason for having Bumblebee remain Sam’s guardian?” Ratchet asked.

    “It was a portion of the overall decision,” Prime replied. “However, those two seemed to have become close friends. It was uplifting to see the old enthusiastic Bumblebee we know once more.”

    Ratchet couldn’t help but smile. “Agreed. As a medic it’s those wounds I can’t fix that lay heaviest on my subconscious; wounds of the heart as the Humans would say. To see Bumblebee healing is a comforting sight. With Megatron gone, that chapter of his life - all our lives - seems to have ended.”

    Optimus nodded and stopped, looking out before him. “We’re here.”

    Ratchet stumbled over a tree root before catching himself and walking up behind Optimus to peer around his bulk. Before them was a clearing. It was not a natural clearing; rather it looked as though something large and decidedly hot crashed through the tree tops (severely singing a few) before landing hard into the Earth, leaving a good seventy foot long groove in the soil. At the far end of the deep ditch was a large crater of sorts; empty of the object in question.

    The two Autobots split and walked around opposite sides of the groove, optics scanning the soil. Various read outs flashed across their visions as they scanned. Meeting at the end, Optimus hopped down into the crater, the sheer size of which dwarfed the Autobot. Bending down he pressed his hand down onto the dirt.

    “Cold,” He said. “Whatever landed is long gone.”

    “The radiation levels indicate the presence of a Cybertronian,” Ratchet offered. “And by the look of this crater; a big one.”

    “Do you suspect,” Optimus asked, standing as he surveyed the area. “A Gestalt?”

    Ratchet verbally growled. “Dear Primus I hope not.”

    “Record the area’s readings,” Optimus ordered as he climbed out of the crater. “After we’re done here we’ll head down to California. There was a suspicious report of something falling from the sky near the coast; Long Beach I believe.”

    Ratchet nodded, pushing the side of his temple. His optics flashed red as a long beam fell over the area in a sweeping motion. “Recording initiated.”
     
  2. alphie

    alphie Veteran

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    Very cool. Can't wait to read more. :) 
     
  3. Alienbot

    Alienbot Well-Known Member

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    Excellent, I like the portrayal of the Autobots adapting to Earth's culture. I'd love the sequel to have the Autobots exploring natural landscapes.
     
  4. DaraRex2.0

    DaraRex2.0 I'd totally eat the leaf

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    Ah, yea. I've been waiting for this. A new story, a new perspective, fresh thoughts and ideas. It's my 'happy time'.
     
  5. Throwback

    Throwback Well-Known Member

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    Glad to see you back at it again. I guess I'll write my 2 cents worth sooner or later.
     
  6. Hakudoushi

    Hakudoushi Well-Known Member

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    Chapter Two

    (Three weeks ago from present time)

    The dark vacuum of space was all that accompanied him on his long trudge through the stars, his navigation systems carefully guiding him through the infinity of their plane of existence. Bright glimmering stars glittered around his; out there, somewhere, was his destination. His glory…

    Humiliation. Defeat…and yet he still came out victorious. Megatron was gone; his ever lingering presence no more then a faint memory, easily deleted from the most resilient of Mechs. His ghost would no longer hinder the Decepticon and his plans for everlasting glory. So long had he been searching for him; his companions never ceasing their vigorous search for him and the Allspark, hope never fading from their optics. They were gone too; having shard similar fates to that of Megatron.

    Blackout: strong, imposingly loyal, and brutally ruthless…taken out single handedly by a human male with a single shot. In a way, he felt Blackout’s fate was just and deserving for all the annoyances he had caused him over their time in searching. Blackout had always been a pain in the aft, always questioning his orders, his commands, never loosing sight of their main objective. He was only regretful that it was a human and not he who was the one to put the round through his cortex.

    Brawl. Simple minded and deliciously destructive; a Decepticon after his own spark. He had not deactivated so easily as the others. A combined effort from a unit of human soldiers and three Autobots managed to bring the sentry down after a difficult struggle. It had been an honorable death.

    Barricade. There was no evidence pointing to any theory of that particular Mech’s fate. He had answered the call via comm., but was continently absent from the battle. He was a scout, a spy; honor and courage meant nothing to him. His chassis was all that mattered.

    Frenzy – Ha! Dead most likely or still clinging to Barricade somewhere; which suited him just fine. He had never honestly cared for Decepticons of the smaller persuasion. They were occasionally useful but their utter annoyances and shortcoming more often then not counter acted any good they did.

    Scorponok; nothing more then Blackout’s drone, a useful drone, but Blackout’s lackey nonetheless; a barely sentient fraction of the miscreant. There were plenty of grunts that could be employed in his place.

    Any survivors remained on the mudball, stranded. But not he; he had much larger plans, much grander schemes that would come to fruit and would see that he, not Megatron, stand atop the universe as supreme ruler. His brethren would rejoice in his return, their faints hopes of Megatron returning only to have them die with the news of his defeat…at the hands of an organic. Grief would lead to anger, and anger would lead to vengeance, and Starscream would be there to milk that anger until he had an army of Decepticons at his disposal. He would return to that backwater planet, he would extinguish Optimus Prime’s spark and see his followers obliterated! Earth was a disgustingly primitive wasteland of organic matter, but its fate would be honorable.

    Earth would serve as his stepping stool into divinity.

    -------------------------------------


    The rubble and remnants of battles past hindered the path, but he persisted. Above him, the towers rose like sentries against the skyline, sharp appendages reaching out as if to snatch up any unwary traveler brave…or foolish enough to trudge too close. Mindful of the steps he took, he prowled on. Single optic scanned the terrain, searching for something his previous excursions may have missed. What was he looking for? Not even he knew exactly. A clue, a guiding light…something that would lead him down the right path – the path to restoring Cybertron to its former glory, before factions, before war, before Megatron.

    Up ahead of him he caught sight of the Tarn Abyss. A deep crack in Cybertron’s very surface. No one knew how deep the abyss fell and none were brave enough to find out. He wondered with slight contempt, where the brave scientists of their race disappear to? What happened to the striving engineers that would risk spark and limp for discovery and progress?

    War, he told himself. War happened.

    It was all meaningless. Purpose and reasoning, logic, were replaced by primitive ambitions of destruction and simplicity of surviving another Orn. The reason for their war had always been blamed on the greed for possessing the Allspark and perhaps there was some truth to that, but something deeper, much more primitive and much more unsettling lay far, far beneath. And he was determined to discover that.

    A stale wind blew, disturbing the dust and minute particles of metal creating a moving cloud across his path as he neared the edge of the abyss. Darkness spread beneath his feet deep into the abyss like viscous ooze. No light penetrated the ever consuming darkness. Lifting his arm, he turned to look down at his left and began to fiddle with it. Where his wrist ended there was, in place of a hand, the barrel of his weapon. It was logical in times of constant war and fighting to essentially have a weapon that was quite impossible to drop, unless the entire limp as severed. However in times where one may need two hands in order to carry out a particular task, it was quite…frustrating.

    However, he had not casually stumbled across the abyss along his routine stroll. No. He had a purpose, having come to a conclusion after so long of silently pondering. For many, many vorns he had searched to find nothing…on the surface. And nothing revealed itself. The next logical step therefore, was to search below the surface. He turned back from the crevasse’s opening and directed his focus skyward. Internal systems booted up and a faint signal emitted from him. A few moments later a small object descended from the sky to land neatly beside him. It was crudely built, manufactured out of spare parts and more then a few stolen circuits, but it was more then capable of filling out its task. It was essentially, a skiff. Sleek metallic hull and flat flooring providing perfect transportation down the abyss. A control panel positioned at the head gave easy means to control the craft. Lightly, he stepped up onto the skiff.

    Hovering for a moment, he directed the skiff over to the opening of the great crevasse. Without a second thought, he began to descent into the darkness.


    -----------------------------------------------------


    The Hub was abuzz with the clattering wisps of short pauses in between the jittering electronic screeches that made up the language of Cybertron. Natives cluttered together in small groups. Their frames were heavy with weapons and their armor bore the scars of long hard battles. Some old, most new. Accounts of such skirmishes could be heard over the din as one walked through.

    In the back of the hub a lone figure sat quietly in the hazy space. His flowing visor that masked his optics scanned the crowd’s feet, looking for a distinct figure. He caught sight of a small movement.

    There he was.

    Stepping lightly between the bodies of much larger Mechs, the little cretin made his way around the crowd, mindful of the heavy feet plowing around him. Nearing the back of the room his creator came into view. A medium sized Mech by default, though his model was considered small during these times of constant war when other Mechs were constantly opting for upgrade after upgrade, leaving their frames bulky and large and slow. Despite the added artillery and weapon potential, Mechs of such persuasions were more often very much exposed and venerable to close and calculated assaults.

    A large hand lowered to the floor, allowing the smaller Mech to step up. Leaning back, he raised his hand to his chest. A panel pulled aside and the small Mech flipped into the flat square looking object before the larger Mech carefully placed him inside, the panel closing obligingly. The Mech’s visor lit up with accumulating information as it swept pasted and through his processor.

    In his vision, the image of a large Mech, purple armored, and single glowing yellow optic appeared. His voice spoke through as the message played.

    “Soundwave,” The Mech said in fluent Cybertronian. “I am sending Rumble back ahead of me with this message. I have descended into the Tarn abyss and have reached ground floor without incident. In the provided files you will find several image scans of the cavern walls and accompanying charts of various chemical scans. Analyze the data and have a concise report ready before I return; Shockwave out.”

    The message cut off into static and Soundwave’s vision returned to normal running software, but before he could deep further into the data he was provided with, he noticed the hub had gone still and quite. Following everyone’s gaze, he looked to the entrance and caught sight of a strange Mech standing in the threshold, his red optics sweeping across the Hub calculatingly. His armor was strange and odd looking, very foreign.

    Soundwave and the new Mech’s gaze met, their optics catching through the haze of the room. He did not need to hear his voice to recognize him, even with the alien disguise.

    “Megatron has fallen,” Starscream announced. “The Allspark is destroyed.”

    A noticeable wave of unsettle murmurings swept through the hub. A large Mech, old and rigid with battle worn armor stood and stared Starscream down through accusatory optics.

    “What trash do you spout to us now Starscream?” He asked. “You disappear for a Vorn and come back empty handed? Do you truly expect us to believe your lies? Where is your crew?”

    “Megatron has been lost for many Vorns along with the Allspark,” Another Mech from the crowd shouted. “How would you know their fates?”

    Starscream didn’t back down from the challenging Mech, but rather stepped into it confidently.

    “Neither was lost,” Starscream sneered. “Both laid dormant on a small backwater planet. Megatron succumbed to the magnetic field of the planet’s polar caps and remained in frozen imprisonment before being found by the primitive natives. The Allspark was also recovered by the puny organics and stored away in a rock barrier in a poor attempt to shield its signal from us.”

    “Frozen is hardly destroyed,” The old Mech said pointedly.

    Starscream cackled. “You would be quiet correct there, however Megatron did not remain frozen in stasis. He awoke after my squad and I sieged the rock barrier, but rejoined the primal source shortly afterwards; struck down not by Optimus Prime or his Autobots, who had also found their way to the Allspark’s location, but by one of the organic natives; the Allspark having been driven into his spark casing causing instant deactivation. His chassis along with that of most of my crew lay dead at the bottom of their Aquarian trench.”

    Soundwave felt a twinge of anger rise before he quelled it and stayed concentrated upon the scene before his. He was well aware of what was coming. Standing, he made his way to the farthest wall away from the crowd.

    “You lie!” Someone yelled.

    “Deny your lost leader’s death all you wish,” Starscream replied coolly. “But it changes nothing. I come to you as messenger of hope. Cybertron is a shell of its former glory. Our people waste away, clinging to asteroid colonies, waiting impatiently for the chance to engage the Autobots in battle after battle…and for what? Join me my Decepticon brethren. Let us return to Earth, destroy the Autobots holding refuge there, take the mud ball and rebuilt! Let us restore the Decepticon Empire!”

    “And why are you not dead with them?” Someone asked. “You are cowardly Starscream! Such traits are unbecoming in a leader! You are unfit to lead us!”

    The room suddenly erupted in random calls of who should lead, most of them coming from Mech who felt it fit to nominate themselves, and there was a clamoring of feet. Mechs began to argue, they pushed, shoved, and fought. In little time there was a full out brawl forming in the middle of the hub. Only two figures seemed uninterested in joining the fray.

    Starscream watched on absolutely irate. Things were not supposed to be this way. They were to follow him! Hungry for revenge! But no. They bickered and fought amongst themselves for supremacy. What unnecessary exertion. Then a though occurred to him. Allow the strongest to exterminate the weak, and pick the strongest of the bunch for his new crew. Yes, that was fitting. Taking up a spot on the wall he waited.

    Soundwave watched mildly from his spot against the farthest wall as his brethren tore at each other. The fight lasted several breems and no one made any move to quell it. Several Mechs lay dead or offline on the ground, their chassis’s being trampled by the combatants still standing. As the brawl continued, Soundwave dug into the information, data, and scans Shockwave had sent Rumble back with, deciding that this may take a while.

    A single shot rang out in the hub and everything went silent.

    A large silhouetted figure stood at the entrance, one yellow optic scanning the area.

    “Cease this nonsensical fighting,” He commanded.

    “Go slag yourself you-” The Mech didn’t have time to finish the sentence before Shockwave turned and fired on the mech. His limp body fell to the floor with a crash.

    “Anyone else wish to express their objections?” Shockwave asked placidly. No one spoke or even stirred. “Very well.”

    Shockwave single optic turned to Starscream. Despite the winged Decepticon’s best efforts to hinder the reaction, he found himself shrinking back from the glowing yellow orb.

    “Starscream,” Shockwave said flatly. “You return empty handed it seems.”

    “He says Megatron is dead!” A Mech cried out from the crowd, quickly ducking down before Shockwave got a good look and/or decided to punish him with a hole through the spark casing.

    “Dead,” Shockwave repeated as if tasting the word. “Megatron is the strongest, most feared being ever to be created. What could have possibly brought him down?”

    Starscream chuckled. “A young organic.”

    Shockwave turned back to the snickering Mech. “Illogical. No organic could have done the impossible.”

    “You’re blind faith in him,” Starscream sneered. “Is sickening. Megatron is dead. Optimus Prime and a collection of his followers have taken refuge on the organic home world, no doubt planning to rendezvous their surviving forces there. We should take our numbers there and destroy them before more join Prime and built a suitable defense. It would be…” Starscream’s optics glowed as he stared meaningfully at Shockwave. “…logical.”
     
  7. SkipMonkey

    SkipMonkey Member

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    Wow this is absolutely awsome.
     
  8. Alienbot

    Alienbot Well-Known Member

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    Excellent. Starscream is the perfect trickster: and somehow the war feels larger than it was in the film. Plus, he didn't think much of Bonecrusher. I liked how Soundwave kept his mouth shut during the commotion.
     
  9. Hakudoushi

    Hakudoushi Well-Known Member

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    Ah! Typo! I didn't include his rant on Boencrusher...I guess I got caught up in writing his opinion on Blackout. lol. *smacks herself*
     
  10. jazz_00

    jazz_00 legen wait 4 it dary

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    keep up the good work this is shapping u pretty well.
     
  11. Hakudoushi

    Hakudoushi Well-Known Member

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    Chapter Three
    (Present time)

    Bumblebee’s engines revved as he pulled out from a dead stop as the light turned green while his two young passengers chatted causally inside him. The wheel slipped through Sam’s hands as the Camaro drove and steered itself with him only feign driving.

    “What is this road show anyway?” Sam asked.

    “It’s actually part of the fair,” Mikaela said. “These three brothers take beat up old Junkers and completely overhaul them into drag racers. It’s totally awesome!”

    “Like ‘Pimp My Ride’?” Same asked.

    “Yeah, but without the dorky title,” Mikaela laughed. “They travel around with the fair and do stunt shows and stuff. I saw them when the fair came through Tranquility a couple years ago.”

    “Sounds cool,” Sam said. “Where’s the fair this year?”

    “Up on Mayer’s hill,” Mikaela said. “Near highway 78.”

    Sam nodded. “There’s that wood over there too. So Bumblebee can go stretch while we go goof around at the fair.”

    “That sounds good to you ‘Bee?” Mikaela asked.

    “Sure why not?” Bumblebee said. “I go sit by myself and you two go socialize…great fun.”

    Sam frowned at the car’s stereo. “Don’t be like that ‘Bee.”

    “It was a joke Sam.”

    “You need to work to your sarcasm then,” The boy replied, shifting in his seat.

    A content silence swept over the three as Bumblebee continued on down the road. Mikaela gazed out the window as they past slower vehicles, noting certain aspects of the particular model or customs. Passing the on ramp, Mikaela sucked in a breath.

    “Hey Sam,” She said turning to the other passenger and pointing behind them. “Check it out!”

    Sam turned. “Cool!”

    The glossy red Roadster past the yellow Camaro with a roar of its engine, black flames painted on its sides.

    “Looks like a 1997 Panoz,” Mikaela said smiling before frowning a little. “It could do without the flames though. It’s a little much.”

    Sam shrugged. “I like flames.”

    Mikaela looked over at her friend with a raised eyebrow. “You’re a boy, so of course you like flames. But with certain cars they just look…tacky. Like Bumblebee for example; he couldn’t pull of flames.”

    Bumblebee’s engines gave off an offended rev.

    Mikaela patted the dash board. “I’m just being honest. Besides, would you like flames?”

    “To be honest?” Bumblebee said, his voice issuing out from within the stereo. “No. Optimus pulls off flames better then any of us could.”

    Sam snorted at the funny mental image. “Imagine Ironhide with flames…”

    Mikaela tried to suppress the grin, but only managed in contorting her face into an odd expression reminiscent of disgust before adding, “…or Ratchet.”

    Sam shook his head with a smile. “They’d clash with his paint job.”

    Over the loud hums of other cars, somewhere behind them was a particular loud roar. Instinctly both teens turned to look for the source of the noise.

    “I guess all the high rise vehicles are out for a cruise today,” Sam commented catching sight of the two vehicles speeding up the fast lane towards them; one with a glossy black paint job while its companion sported one of white.

    Mikaela whistled. “Firebirds…nice.”

    Bumblebee’s engine revved darkly.

    “I think we’re giving ‘Bee a complex,” Sam said turning his gaze from the stereo to Mikaela.

    “We need to get off the freeway,” Bumblebee said urgently, changing lanes abruptly nearly colliding with a church minivan; the side of the vehicle read First Church of Christ of Tranquility. “Now.”

    Sam cursed. “Geez, Bee. Use your blinkers next time! You nearly ran over the church people!”

    Mikaela, sensing something wrong in the Autobot’s behavior, placed her hand on the dashboard. “Something wrong Bumblebee?”

    Before Bumblebee could answer, both Pontiac Firebirds appeared on either side of the yellow Camaro. Sam looked out his window into the black Firebird’s interior. A man sat unmoving in the driver’s seat, a thick mustache covering his upper lip. Sam’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.

    I know that guy, He thought trying to rack his memory. In a horrid realization he recalled where he had seen that man. Not too long ago he had an unforgettable encounter with a certain Cop-car-disguised Decepticon designation Barricade. As if to confirm his suspicion he snapped his head around to peer into the white Pontiac’s interior. The same man sat unmoving in the driver’s seat. “Shit! They’re holograms!”

    As if reacting to Sam’s declaration, both Firebirds swerved inward to slam into Bumblebee who seemed to have sensed their intent and put on the brakes, dodging their attack. Both Firebirds swerved back outward to avoid hitting each other. Bumblebee swept across the lanes, careful not to hit any vehicles, and made his way to the off ramp. Sam looked back to see the black Firebird smash into a car, sending the vehicle spinning into the center divider, as it followed. Just as Bumblebee turned for the off ramp the Firebird was there to block him, slamming into the side of the yellow Camaro forcing him back onto the freeway. Mikaela screamed, hands rose to her face instinctly, but she was relieved to see the Autobot’s armor held and didn’t buckle inward.

    Sam took his hands off the steering wheel and grabbed onto Mikaela’s arm. Both teens snapped their heads around looking for another potential attack. And it came.

    The white car appeared at Bumblebee’s rear bumper with the Black one heading Bumblebee off and merging into his lane. Sam and Mikaela closed their eyes awaiting the impact that seemed imminent in coming. There was a loud rev of two engines and Sam opened his eyes in time to see a yellow low ridden car (Lamborghini? Sam thought absently to himself) slam the Black Pontiac Firebird into the guardrail. Behind him a similar red Lamborghini slammed the White Firebird back across the freeway lanes to smash into the center divider.

    And with a roar of anger, the Black Pontiac pushed the yellow vehicle off him…and stood up. The confusion of shifting and metamorphosis of car parts revealed in place of the glossy black car, a tall menacing looking Transformer, optics flashing red. Similarly the Yellow Lamborghini’s doors flung open and the rest of the bulk seemed to follow it until what stood in its place was a tall Transformer, blue optics flashing.

    “Autobot!” The black Pontiac roared as it jumped and tackled the yellow clad robot to the floor of the freeway. They rolled, nearly missing a small Toyota Echo as the fool driving the car tried to navigate through the chaos unfolding before him. The bulk of traffic seemed to have come to a dead stop not a hundred feet from the epicenter of the robotic death match, the occupants finding it a good idea to abandon their vehicles and make their way off the freeway. Still a few more brave, or stupid, humans remained behind, one of which was filming the scene with a camera phone.

    As the yellow and Black robots brawled, their counterparts did as well. The Red Lamborghini transformed into a near identical robot to the yellow one while at the same time the White Pontiac Firebird did so too. The white Firebird reached out to punch the red Lamborghini turned robot. The potential punching bag dropped down below the enemy’s fist’s range and swung out his leg, tripping his opponent backwards to the ground with a loud crash.

    Bumblebee set on his brakes and opened his doors, allowing Mikaela and Sam to hastily exit before transforming into his bipedal form and entering the fray. Sam and Mikaela scrambled across the road to the grass incline near the off ramp just before the over pass. Laying down in the grass they cautiously watched the five brawling bots. The yellow robot cried out as a well timed kick caught him in the middle, sending him flying back, sparks flying as metal met concrete. Bumblebee charged the Black Firebird turned robot, using his momentum to his full advantage. The two robots clashed with their hands interlocking. Bumblebee grunted as he pushed harder against his opponent, his feet digging into the road, spider webbing the asphalt and concrete as he pushed. A yellow blur suddenly smashed full force into the Firebird. The force of the strike sent the black robot rolling across the street and over the off ramp, having barely missed Sam and Mikaela as it crashed into the guardrail below.


    Sam and Mikaela both got to their feet, staring wide eyed down at the transformer as it too picked itself up, shaking its head in attempt to clear its head. Red optics lifted and fell on the two humans. Optical software hummed as they zoomed in on Sam, internal sensory alarms going off. His body tensed, shoulders hunched, and his optics narrowed as he aimed his weapon at the two teens. Mikaela screamed. Sam grabbed her arm and ran back onto the freeway as an impossibly loud, booming voice assaulted their ears from behind them.

    “WITWICKY!”

    Sam looked back and caught sight of Bumblebee, eye meeting optic for a fleeting moment. Bumblebee’s head snapped around to see the Firebird in pursuit of the two humans.

    “SAM! Mika-” Bumblebee was cut off mid sentence as the white Firebird, having seemingly lost his jousting partner, tackled the Autobot from behind. The yellow Lamborghini looked around for its double, spotting him a few meters away getting to his feet. Having confirmed his twin’s welfare, he turned to the white firebird robot, reaching down and hauling his off of the Autobot Camaro.

    Bumblebee looked up and saw the black robot in pursuit of Sam and Mikaela.

    “SAM! MIKAELA!”

    A blur streaked passed as the red robot flipped and transformed in mid air only to land on its tires before zooming off in the direction of the fleeing humans.

    Sam’s mind raced, his grip on Mikaela’s arm never lessening as he pulled her along as fast as their legs could go. The sounds of battle echoed threateningly in their ears, the perpetual thump thump of giant feet meeting the ground easily keeping pace with the thump thump of their hearts as their pursuer chased after them.

    “Run!” Sam urged as he felt Mikaela slowing. Their vision suddenly exploded as a bright red laser streaked past their heads to blow up the ground before them, sending chunks of concrete and dust at them and a long crack down the width of the road. Sam tried to change direction but tripped on some unseen slab of broken road, pulling Mikaela down with him. Both teens landed in a heap. Head spinning and back aching, Sam looked up and caught a frightened whimper in his throat. The large black robot leered down at them. Mikaela had no qualms about voicing her fright and proceeded to do just that. The high pitched organic shriek echoed through the air.

    A hand, large an imposing, loomed in their vision as the giant reached for them, red optics narrowed to slits.

    “Megatron will be avenged!” It cried.

    The air suddenly seemed to explode in an array of sparks as the red Lamborghini leaped from the ground, transformed, and grabbed the Firebird, pulling him down with him away from the humans. When the two crashed into the ground, their combined weight and force of their fall seemed too much for the overpass to take and the crack from the Firebird’s laser split further and broke away. Sam’s world tiled alarmingly as he and Mikaela slid down the road-cum-slid of the overpass as it collapsed around them, incredibly loud booming in their ears as concrete and rebar snapped. Sam lost his grip on Mikaela as he tumbled, the dread and horror of falling overwhelming his mind. His hands reached out to grab onto anything when his descent was abruptly halted with a shuttering crash as something…or someone caught him. Metalic fingers squeezing him hard around the middle and they landed hard and loudly on the ground below. His eyes opened of their own violation and he came face to face with the black robot, red eyes glowing evilly.

    “Vengeance…” It hissed. Sam’s world flipped once again, more disorienting this time, and before he realized it, he was seated in the Firebird’s passenger seat. He made a valiant move to try and get out of the robot-cum-car, but the seatbelt suddenly sprang to life, snaking themselves around him, retraining the human boy. He slammed back against the seat.

    Sam’s cries for help fell on deaf ears as the black firebird pelted away from the collapsed bridge.

    ----------------------------

    She closed her eyes and tensed up as the ground beneath her fell away. Mikaela felt herself fall, Sam’s grip disappearing from her arm and she reached out her hand pleadingly, trying to find him again. She felt the bridge pulled away from her and found herself freefalling. For a brief moment time seemed to slow and her breath froze in her lungs as she silently hoped that flesh hitting pavement wouldn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. She hit, hard; not bone-shattering pavement, but metal. Fingers as thick as her thigh gripped her around the waist causing her freefall stopped abruptly. Shivering from shock, Mikaela looked up into a metal face, blue optics gleaming down at her. Its head was helmed by red metal, as was his entire body. Metal lips parted in a smirk.

    “That was close,” He said in English; the metallic twang of his voice soft and encouraging. The robot hung from the lip of the collapsed overpass, jagged pieces of concrete hung from exposed rebar, with one hand clinging to the edge and Mikaela in the other. At the sound of an engine gunning it, the red robot and human snapped their heads sown to see the black Firebird bolt down the street below. Mikaela looked down at the crumbled mess below before looking back up ahead of her, sudden realization hitting her.

    “Sam!” She called. Her savior’s growl morphed into a startled cry as the white Pontiac firebird flew over his head, landing on the other side and racing off after its companion.

    The robot turned its head and hollered, “SUNNY!” His voice took on a distinctly frustrated tone, causing Mikaela to wince and cover her ears against the audible assault. “They got the target!”

    Mikaela felt herself lift up as her rescuer raised his arm to set her down on the road above before pulling himself up. The hand that had held the human pressed down on the road and fell through, nearly causing the red robot to loose his other grip. Recovering, he gripped onto another, more stable, piece of road and hauled himself up. Mikaela’s head snapped around startled at the sound of the yellow Camaro’s engines rev angrily before jumping off the freeway after the Firebirds.

    “Bumblebee!” Mikaela called after the Autobot, getting to her feet quickly. She inhaled a sharp breath between her teeth and winced as a pain shot up her leg, causing her to fumble forward. A large hand slipped beneath her before she hit the ground, lifting her up.

    “Easy there,” The robot said before looking back up after the Camaro and cursed, “Slag,” said the red robot above her and added with a tired sigh, “Here we go again…”

    The yellow Lamborghini jumped the gap of the collapsed bridge to land next to its red counterpart with a screech of its tires. “Let’s roll ‘Sides!”

    “What about her?” The red robot asked raising his palm slightly as if to show Mikaela off.

    “Leave her,” the yellow low rider replied flatly. “She’ll just be a liability…”

    “Hell no you’re not leaving me! I’m coming with you!” Mikaela replied sharply. “They took Sam!”

    The yellow vehicle revved its engines irritably.

    “Whatever! Let’s just go already!” The yellow Lamborghini pelted around and drove down the on ramp, following the fleeing cars. “Just don’t get in the way squishy!”

    The human girl bit back a few choice words behind her teeth as the yellow Lamborghini raced off. The red robot sat Mikaela down, careful of her leg, before standing to his full height and transforming into his Lamborghini form. The passenger rose obligingly. “C’mon little lady, we got ‘cons to scrap.”

    Mikaela would have smiled if not for the gravity of the situation. Sliding into the Lamborghini’s passenger seat and pulled the seat belt around her, the door closing shut behind her. Her shoulders pressed into the back of the seat as the red Lamborghini hurried off the freeway to catch up to its twin.

    When the yellow Lamborghini came into view a few moments later, Mikaela asked, “Who are you guys? Autobots?”

    “That’s right,” the red robot’s voice replied from the speakers, sounding pleasantly surprised. “The name’s Sideswipe, and scrap-head up there is my brother; Sunstreaker.”

    “Shut up, slagger,” Sunstreaker’s voice replied tartly, voice issuing from Sideswipe’s speakers.

    “Language, bro! Language!” Sideswipe cried in mock appall. “We have a lady present!”
     
  12. ThunderTalon

    ThunderTalon Renegade Bounty Hunter

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    nice, but who are the fire birds
     
  13. lonegamer

    lonegamer Lurking in your midst

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    Black and white? Probably Runabout and Runamuck, respectively. Runabout was a Lotus Espirit, while Runamuck was a Pontiac Trans Am back in G1.
     
  14. Hakudoushi

    Hakudoushi Well-Known Member

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    Yeah, they're the battlechargers. I looked around the net for pics of cars and I chose the pontiac firebirds. Because firebirds kickass.
     
  15. ThunderTalon

    ThunderTalon Renegade Bounty Hunter

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    Ah, ok just asking
     
  16. Hakudoushi

    Hakudoushi Well-Known Member

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    Anytime. :wink: 
     
  17. Hakudoushi

    Hakudoushi Well-Known Member

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    Chapter Four



    Ironhide sighed as he slowed, a blaring yellow traffic light gazing accusatorily down at him from the wires that hung the color coded light fixture aloft.

    I could have made that, He thought bitterly, stopping just as the yellow switched to red. The morning air was crisp and warm, not at all humid. The town he found himself was very small. In fact had he not passed the sign welcoming visitors into its perimeter, Ironhide doubted very much that he would have known it to be a town at all.

    Ironhide found himself liking Earth more and more as he continued through the country. After dropping off Captain William Lennox at his home settlement, the human had suggested several famous locations throughout the country called America of which he thought Ironhide might find intriguing. The top of the list had been an enormous rock formation called the Grand Canyon. He had been the two days prior, spending several hours simply looking out into the huge cavernous gaps in the stone landscape, layers of stone colored varying shades or red, orange, and brown. It had been impressive Ironhide admitted to himself. Of course he had seen more wondrous formations on the various other worlds he and his companions had visited on their journey, but outside away from the cumbersome cities and heavily populated areas, Earth had its own mystic to it. Everything seemed to breathe and live. It had its own peaceful beauty to it.

    Nothing like Cybertron, Ironhide thought.

    Cybertron. They could never go back, he knew that, but it did not quell the ever present rue that seemed to hang over his head. Perhaps that was why he was taking this trip. He was somehow trying to convince himself that Earth was his home now; there was no other place to go. Perhaps if he saw Earth for himself he would come to think of it more like home. It was defiantly a pleasant place…but still. It was not Cybertron.

    A red minivan sped across the intersection just as the light ahead of him turned red and the one ahead of the Autobot in disguise turned green. Had Ironhide decided to cross the intersection at the moment the light changed, he would have very well crashed into the human-man vehicle.

    Foolish human, Ironhide thought with a mental shake of his head. He had learned one profound truth while on the little trip of his; humans cannot drive. Most didn’t obey the various traffic laws that their very own government had set for them and this seemed to lead to many many accidents. Ironhide had come across a few, a couple rather serious. He recalled the first he had come across while providing William Lennox with a ride home. The interstate was clustered with cars packed in like sardines. Ironhide was desperately trying to ignore the Escalade behind him that was uncomfortably close to his rear bumper. As a Mech, the weapons specialist was practically immune to the effects of claustrophobia, but this was pushing it a tad.

    “Are your roadways usually this congested?” Ironhide asked; his frustration easily audible.

    “Not usually,” Lennox replied craning his neck outside the driver’s window in a vein attempt to see further up the road. “Must’ve been an accident or something.”

    “Accident?” Ironhide asked, the Captain’s terminology bemusing the Autobot.

    “Car accident, a crash, a wreck,” Lennox clarified. “A bad one by the looks of things.”

    After a moment of not being able to catch anything with his eye, Lennox ducked back into the cab. “I hope no one was killed.”

    Fifteen minutes later they had progressed enough down the highway to see what it was that caused the heavy backup on the interstate. A large silver pickup truck lay on its side, the front smashed in, metal crumbled like tin foil, while a red car sat on its three remaining tires. Though upright, the smaller vehicle was by no means better off then the larger silver truck; the roof was crumbled in as if it had rolled several times and by shear coincidence just happened to land up right. Several police cars and two ambulances were parked on the shoulder. Ironhide caught a faint glimpse of a body covered by a white sheet as it was being loaded into an awaiting emergency vehicle.

    Ironhide pulled out of the dead stop and on through the intersection. It took less then a minute for him to roll right through the sleepy town and he found himself back on the interstate highway, rolling though miles and miles of nothingness. Land spread in all directions with the dark silhouettes of mountains in the far distance.

    Police sirens suddenly made themselves heard.

    Ironhide resisted the urge to groan. Turning his sensors to scan behind him he caught sight of the police cruiser coming up on his tail. He wasn’t speeding…his tags were all up to date…what reason could that blasted human possibly have in pulling him over?

    He’s going faster then I am for Primus sake, Ironhide argued to himself. He really didn’t want to have to pull over. He’d already gotten pulled over once in the last week and that was awkward enough trying to answer all the policeman’s questions and giving all the necessary documentation that all the Autobots were now required to carry with them (Thank you Ratchet for the holo-matter drive!) without seeming out of place. Controlling a hologram is difficult enough as it is and added a solidity to said hologram, if anything else, simply makes it harder.

    As he prepared to slow and pull to the shoulder of the road his sensors suddenly blipped.

    Ironhide verbally growled.

    “Barricade!” Ironhide speed up. The police car easily matched the speed increase. “You’re still alive?”

    The police cruise revved forward and pulled up beside the speeding pickup. A panel on the black and white vehicle’s side opened up, revealing the barrel of a gun. Ironhide hit his brakes just in time to avoid the blaring blue laser that shot from within the round barrel and within the same fluid motion, Ironhide pulled in behind the cruiser; speed up and slamming the Decepticon right in the bumper. The police cruiser let out an unhealthy sounding squeal as tires braked and locked; the cruiser spun and rolled right off the road into the dirt.

    Ironhide growled as he transformed, turning his sensors down at the dust cloud that Barricade had kicked up in his glorious exit stage left. Large round cannons rolled out of his arms, locking in place and charging with a high pitched whistling.

    Through the gloom of the dusty air, Ironhide caught sight of the dark blob that was Barricade. Before he could fire however, a barrage of blue colored lasers shot out of the cloud of dust and bombarded the large black Mech, being caught unawares. Though the lasers were not enough to do serious damage, they were defiantly enough to distract the Autobot long enough for Barricade to recover and close the gap between them.

    Ironhide’s large body went flying back over the interstate and into the dirt on the other side when Barricade landed a full body charge into the Mech. Picking himself up, Ironhide shook his head to clear his processor. Barricade lunged at him.

    A well aimed laser caught him in the side, throwing off his trajectory and landing him in a heap just a few feet from Ironhide. The black Autobot looked up, reverting his optic software to make sure he was not seeing double.

    A police cruiser, near identical to Barricade, came speeding down the interstate from the opposite direction of the town Ironhide had just come from. Red and blue lights flashing with the accompanying whoop whoop of the sirens caused even Barricade to double check his optical programming.

    Not even waiting for Barricade to compose himself, the new police cruiser continued on and jumped the road straight at the disoriented Decepticon, transforming just before impact. Ironhide caught only a brief glimpse of the new Transformer’s robot mode before the two cruisers crashed together and rolled. Limbs and fists flew as the two grabbed and slammed each other, doing as much physical damage as they could. They pulled away and transformed in their police car forms and began to run circles around one another, trying to slam the other in the side or rear.

    Ironhide got to his feet and aimed his cannons.

    ‘Scrap!’ He sneered. ‘Who’s who?’

    His sights switched from cruiser to cruiser. Irritation took over.

    “Slag it!” Ironhide cursed and fired both cannons. Both cars went flying as the shots landed just in front of them, rolling onto their sides, sweeping up more dust. Both cruisers transformed and got to their feet unsteadily. They were composed in no time and began hurling fists at one another again, trying to bring the other Mech to their knees.

    Switching his aim, trying to keep his sights directly on Barricade, Ironhide felt irritation rise inside him. Every time he got a clear shot, either he would move or the new cruiser-bot would get in the way. He rolled his head frustration and growled.

    “Hey Barricade!” He shouted.

    Surprisingly, both battling cruisers halted their rumble to look at the shouting Autobot. Ironhide fired. Barricade looked up and mentally cursed himself when he saw a flash of white streaking towards him. The Decepticon flew back and rolled into the dirt with a crash and was still.

    “I can not believe that actually worked,” Ironhide said. Turning to look back he saw the new transformer picking himself up from the dirt where he’d agilely jumped clear just before Ironhide’s shot took Barricade out. Absently dusting himself off, the new police cruiser looked up at Ironhide.

    “Nice shot,” He said in clean English; his metallic accent barely noticeable. The cruiser stepped back onto the road suddenly pulling back at the sight of a large cannon pointed in his face.

    “Who are you?” Ironhide asked.

    “I could ask the same of you,” The police cruiser replied. “But the cannons kind of give you away…Ironhide.”

    Ironhide’s optics narrowed incredulously. “Prowl?”

    “Well, at least your processor doesn’t seem to be completely rusted yet,” The new comer smiled and motioned to the cannon pointed at his face with a little nod. “You gonna put those away?”

    Chuckling, Ironhide lowered his arm, cannon barrels cleanly disappearing back into his forearms, and re-extended his now cannon free arm. Clasping each other’s forearm in greeting the two Mechs smiled.

    “Good to see you haven’t gotten your aft shot off yet,” Ironhide teased.

    “Good to see Ratchet is doing his job as well as ever,” Prowl retorted. “Your’s is still attached.”

    “Mute it,” Ironhide replied.

    Prowl’s face suddenly turned serious. “So…is it true?”

    Ironhide looked into his old friend’s optics. “The Allspark? Yeah; it’s gone.”

    Prowl’s face lowered in mourning. “I had hoped I misheard.”

    “Nope,” Ironhide said. “Sam Witwicky. Can’t blame the boy for it; saved all our afts by doing what he did.”

    Prowl suddenly became very alert. “Witwicky! The human!”

    “Yeah?” Ironhide asked.

    “He’s in danger!” Prowl told his friend. “Shockwave sent two of his Mechs to retrieve him!”

    “Shockwave?” Ironhide asked, feeling a slight chill run the length of his relays. “After Sam? Why?”

    “I haven’t a clue,” Prowl admitted. “My team intercepted a pulse wave from him to his goons with the specific directive of containing the organic responsible for killing Megatron. We followed them to here to Earth and I sent two of my best operatives to follow the Decepticons and intervene if they happen across the target. I haven’t heard anything from them yet, so I guess that’s a good sign.”

    “Bumblebee is guarding Sam,” Ironhide said. “He should be safe. If there was trouble, he’d -”

    A light beeping noise alerted the two Mech to Prowls wrist where a small red light was blinking. Lifting his wrist to his face, he pressed the little red light.

    “Prowl here.”

    “They got the target boss-bot!” A youthful voice blared through the comm.. Prowl cursed.

    “How?” Prowl asked. “You and your brother were supposed to keep that from happening!”

    “Yeah yeah,” The voice replied. “Look, we engaged both on the human roadway but due to…unforeseen events, they grabbed the kid while I was helping a human female.”

    “Mikaela?” Ironhide asked. “Is she OK?”

    “Who’s that with you?” The voice asked.

    “Ironhide,” Prowl replied.

    “Oh! Hey grumps! Long time no yell!” The voice greeted. “Anyway, yeah the girl’s safe. Sunny and I are in pursuit of the gruesome two-some. Bumblebee’s just ahead of us by a few clicks. I’ve not a clue where we are…just past a fuel station if that helps.”

    “No,” Prowl said irritably. “It doesn’t. Send me your coordinates and we’ll get there as fast as we can. Keep them in the city and keep me updated.”

    “Will do boss-bot!” The voice replied. “Sideswipe out!”

    “Can you contact Optimus from here?” Prowl asked, lowering his arm.

    “Yes,” Ironhide replied. “Come on, we’ll do it on the way.”

    Both Autobots transformed and speed up down the interstate, the morning sun turning into mid-afternoon.
     
  18. ThunderTalon

    ThunderTalon Renegade Bounty Hunter

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    nice intro with prowl
     
  19. Alienbot

    Alienbot Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    May 19, 2007
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    I loved your depiction of Ironhide exploring Earth with wonder and melachony. And good cop vs bad cop was fun.
     
  20. Throwback

    Throwback Well-Known Member

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    Here's a bump for some oldies that some of you may not have read. Check em' out.
     

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