Staring Cliffjumper and Elita-86 (aka Robo-Phyllis Diller) Well, I recently watched "Hitchhicker's Guide to the Galaxy" and re-discovered my love for Brittish writing. Herbie Brennan and...slag, why can I never remember his name? The guy who wrote "Hitchhiker's..." are both amazing authors who really inspire me. Well, I wanted to write a comically epic fan fic about the goings on of the so-called "Bureaucratobots," in the style of Brittish authors, and Cliffjumper seemed like a great character to focus on. I see him as a kind of an Arthur Dent character who takes hits as they come and I thought it would be interesting to know what he was up to between the events of "Autobot Bootcamp" and "Transwarpped." So I came up with this. If people like it, I will continue writing it. If not, well, the prologue was fun to write too. I have a plan to explain CJ's sudden emergence of actual character starting in "Five Servos of Doom." And would like to write that story, because it would evolve into quite possibly the most epic story about a Bureaucrat EVER. I am extremely open to constructive critisicm. I love semantics and playing with word-order and stuff like that, so if my writing seems confusing, tell me how you think I would ammend that. I would greatly appreciate it. I also am going to write this in short installments. So it is easier for you all to read. Well, nothing left to do but say, "I hope you enjoy the exploits of Cliffjumper in TFA - Amazing Adventures in Autobot Bureaucracy." Preview/Prologue The scarlet Cybertronian daylight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting not a purple, but a heavy grey tinted spotlight on the floor as Cliffjumper trudged along to his desk, his burden weighing him down with each step that he took. It wasn’t the pain of an old soldier’s spark that weighed him down, nor was it his chronic sense of paranoia. No, what weighed Cliffjumper down and slowed his pace as he made his way through the Metroplex was the appallingly tall stack of back-up hard drives Sentinel Prime requested he review for some reason that didn’t quite make sense to old CJ. But nevertheless, Cliffjumper was a loyal soldier, and when a superior officer gave him an order, he obeyed without question, as was his duty, as was his programming. Though, despite his loyalty and the many lines of code that made Cliffjumper the unquestioning solider he was, he couldn’t help but wonder what in the name of the AllSpark was so important that Sentinel Prime felt it necessary to wake him from his stasis nap in order to review. “I guess I will know soon enough,” the bot sighed softly to himself, as the automatic door to the Autobot Intelligence offices swiftly opened before him. The lobby of the Autobot Intelligence offices had been Cliffjumper’s workplace since the end of the Great War. After the many stellar-cycles of brutal warfare he had endured, Cliffjumper had thought it a good idea to stick with desk work for a while. Little had he realized at the time that the world of bureaucracy would end up being even more traumatic than running across the open planes of Cybertron while avoiding barrages of missiles, napalm, and cosmic rust. Yes, he had no idea at first, but soon that fact was made abundantly clear to poor Cliffjumper. Unfortunately for somebot of Cliffjumper’s protoform-mold, and more-so his extreme level of paranoia, the only other job after the war was a full-time oil changer. Needless to say, Cliffjumper decided to stick with the spark-crushing desk job, a job which he had dutifully done for the past one million stellar-cycles. The filtered grey light became even more oppressive the closer Cliffjumper came to his desk. His servos were starting to strain under the weight of the hard drives as the lofty stack began to sway back and forth. “Slag no! Not today,“ grunted a defiant Cliffjumper as, with forgotten balance and strength, he sprinted the rest of the distance to his desk. The old soldier-bot managed to successfully, and with uncanny ease, keep the back-up hard drives safely secure in the precarious stack. Cliffjumper heaved a sigh of relief as he gingerly transferred the tower of hard drives from his servos to his desk. He couldn’t believe he had made it. Lately, Cliffjumper had begun to suspect that he was the universe’s punching bag. After all, he was a subordinate to Sentinel Prime, a bot whose chin Cliffjumper was sure was a mini-con in disguise. But despite his expectations, this solar-cycle was shaping up to be one of the best he had had in a very long time. Cliffjumper even dared to let a small smile form on his face. “Finally, things may be starting to look up…” “Wow, that was some display, Twinkle-toes!” The smile instantly faded from Cliffjumper’s face. “Spark help me, no!” That was the last voice he had wanted to hear at that moment. Apparently Cliffjumper had let his momentary happiness cloud his senses, and he hadn’t noticed the Femmebot who was occupying his chair. Hesitantly, he pushed aside the tower of hard drives and his fears were confirmed. Before him sat Elita-86. to be continued... P.S. Why did I color those words? I have no idea. I wanted to...so I did.
DON'T PANIC! It's a wonderful, startling, great, uh, nice, uh...drat, I left the Thesaurus at home. Please keep writing...pretty please. I've enjoyed the start and you have left way too many questions unanswered. Confidentially, I think Sentinal's chin is a subspace pocket for his lunch...
After I finish writing my term paper...so...I will start on it sometime next week perhaps. No idea on when I would actually finish it though.
