Autobot Academy: Ram It

Discussion in 'Transformers Fan Fiction' started by Artork312, Apr 16, 2021.

  1. Artork312

    Artork312 The Robo-Chuvak

    Apr 10, 2015
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    There are universes out there that are constantly at war. There are universes that lack conflict. But in the universe of Galdex 917.26 and related streams, the perfect balance is achieved.

    Once considered Outliers by the Functionist Philosophers of Cybertron, Cybertronians with powers beyond the scope of their alt mode soon grew more and more common as time went on. Soon, these powers were given the name of Talents, and many who develop such abilities decide to use their abilities to help society in times of discord and disaster, becoming the heroes to new generations.

    But the future is not always so bright. This collection of stories details the horrible details of what exactly happened in the "future" of this once bright world.

    Chapter 0: A Trip Down Memory Lane

    Morning. Day. Evening. Everything is the same, and not something one would deem a happy retirement. All goes back to the day I entered service, right after the Siege of Acadeimos. Still remember holding my mentor in hands, one who perished in action, wishing it was me instead of him, yet life moves on. As I sit in my chair, I remember many bots I knew falling in combat, betraying others or simply leaving the system in search of a better life, as I and the ones who remained were fighting for the system that promised order and justice.

    Dishonorable acts were committed by our command and the enemy, paying a steep price for victories..Yet where others would break, I find resolve. Where one breaks people's trust, I keep it. And when future generations of Cybertronians later live, they will honor our legacy, justice and heroism. Even if the new leader and his machine takes a huge dump on our noble acts, I still act, upholding the ideals Rook and others taught me.

    Someone might try to blemish my reputation, besmirch the idea of our cause, but I will not break over that, I'll move on. And one day, an Autobot will rise among us, bringing hope and salvation to our kind.
    But for now I and fellow Autobot survivors will have to do what this one can't do just yet and pave the way for future generations of heroes.

    This is Ramjet. And the time has come for me to ram it.

    Chapter 1: Jetman Returns

    A spare day from his job in the bar, Ramjet went through the neighborhood he lived in, and as he was going, several bots on the streets were talking about shop robbery, some noting that it among those that were ignored due to its owners being vocal about their distaste for Great Convoy's rule. The old mech felt disgust, as he thought of it.

    If the current regime doesn't support its own people, then they need someone to protect them. Propaganda may twist his acts, but he can't abandon those in need, so if he wants to fight for them, then he might have to get his hands dirty. And the years of war taught him many new ways to deal with crime.

    He wasn't a naive teen anymore, but people still needed a hero, not just some street vigilante. An idea struck his mind - a grim legend from the past coming back to fight for Cybertron's people. But first he needed to investigate the situation, so Ramjet went to the shop to see it first hand.

    The shop was left in a terrible state - most of the goods scattered around the premises, cabinets lying across the room, a broken cash register, and, what the old mech considered the worst, every last shanix stolen.

    And to add insult to injury, the place wasn't even cordoned off - a living proof of the regime's disregard for the common people, the old man thought, when he turned around and saw a young femme entering the place, soon followed by an older mech. The vendor and his assistant, he assumed. It didn't take him long for him to make them talk, after all, being a compassionate old mech who recognized their plight sure warmed the two up to him.

    "Do you think you know who did it?" He asked, wanting to know from the first hand, to which he got a simple answer. A group of punks, his niece, who works as an assistant barely survived their attack, and after they left with their money, the vendor found her on the floor, clinging to her life, calling an old medic friend, as due to their reputation of being vocal opponents of Great Convoy's regime they couldn't simply go to a normal hospital. As for the punks and their whereabouts, it wasn't a secret - they hung out in one of the old garages down the district.

    Taking all this into account, Ramjet thanked the two and left, knowing exactly what he should do. But first, he needed to pick up something, so he did a thing from his old days and sneaked into the sewers. It was a place where he set up his little base of operations, after all. Deep in the unoccupied section of the pipeline. Sure it was junky and dusty there, but this line wasn't one the city needed, so it was left as it was ever since the Great War began.

    Shoulder pads, grappling guns, new modification of energon throwing blades, armor pads and most important, cloaking system. He may no longer be an Autobot, but bots like him and others kept in touch and, thanks to Nautica’s magic hands, he got this nifty toy. As in keeping the tradition, the last piece he put on was the helmet.

    Next thing he knew after checking the customized PAM he still kept for all these years was this - a group of robbers robbed the shop and, as the owners didn't support the regime, police swept the case under the rug, so it was up to him to help them.

    And he knew exactly where they hid. Ramjet shot a cable into the roof and climbed on it, then walked the roofs in stealth mode, and, after a district of jumps and occasional usage of his thrusters, he found their hideout and, as the old mech approached the garage, he listened in to the robbers.

    "That'll teach the rust buckets! No one speaks out against the Great Convoy without consequence. And look, Klunker, what they got in their shop - old data slates and some shanix!"

    Spoke one with the big sight hung over his right optic, as he opened the box with the stuff they got. The tall one, Klunker, patted him on the shoulder and started counting the loot, while the third one, the youngest of them, was too busy looking at the old posters they got.

    "Never knew the girls back then were so tame, boss! Ones I seen in the bar are much more exciti-"

    The bot didn’t finish his sentence, as was then thrown across the room, and right when he was about to pull out a blaster, his hand was nailed to the wall with an energon blade. His two older colleagues immediately jumped and opened fire, with one of them hitting something with his shots.

    "I've got 'im!" Klunker said, and, when he looked, the other robber noticed that one he got was their youngest, now lying nearly dead with more shots than needed.

    He then looked around, and, when he turned around, he saw a bot in black, red and white, who just caved the other robber's face into the wall, and now was looking at him.

    "Whaddya want, freak?! Shanix? I-I can share!" he said, with his voice crumbling, as he looked into the weirdo's face. There was none, and his only response was this.

    "Your hand."

    Saying that, the mech grabbed his right hand and broke it. And as the robber was about to yell from pain, he was knocked out by a brass knuckles in the face.

    When he woke up, he was tied down to a chair, with the broken arm being the left hanging outside the bonds, and his partners were lying on the ground, with makeshift cuffs on their arms.

    "W-what-aaaaaaaargh!" he yelled, as mech grabbed him by the broken hand and pulled, making him feel the pain from before.

    "Don't like being pulled by the hand? Then you'll like to try being on my good side. If I see you here, pulling out one of your tricks on my turf again, you'll get more than just a broken arm and some dents on your face."

    The mech looked into his optics, with his unblinking black visor of a face, as he ran his fingers over Klunker's left foot..

    "And as for your boys here, I'll find a way to teach them too. Now, what do you say, turbo-pup?"

    "B-bitch, w-who you think you are, an A-Autobot?!"

    Klunker blurted angrily, as the mech stood up and looked down on him.

    "No, punk. I'm Jetman, and I'm back."

    The last sound heard from the garage was a high pitched scream. The next day, Ramjet, being an old fashioned mech he is, walked into the shop and talked for a bit with the owners, before giving them a box with, what they soon learned, was the stuff that the robbers stole.

    The younger femme asked him.

    "S-sir, where did you get it?"

    "Oh, this? A friend gave it to me, and told me to bring it here. He also said that these hooligans will not bother your neighborhood anymore."

    "D-does he have a name, mister?"

    Ramjet looked both her and her uncle in the eyes.

    "He does, actually. He goes by Jetman. A strange fella, if you ask me, but he sure knows how to teach the kids a lesson. Anyways, I've gotta go - the bar needs it's janitor, after all."

    Saying that, the old mech left the shop and went on his way to the bar, and as he did so, some were discussing a trio of local junkies hung on the lamppost by a cable, alive but severely beaten, and when they were pulled off, one of them was yelling something about "Jetblade” or "Man-Jet". And he liked it. Legends need to feed off something, after all.

    Last edited: Apr 16, 2021
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