Discussion in 'Transformers Fan Fiction' started by Hakudoushi, Jan 8, 2006.
Impressive. Keep it up!
Dr. Henderson walked down the hospital corridor with a blue filling folder in his hands. As he ambled down the hall he flipped vaguely though the various colored pages at the patient information. As he neared the room of one Eric Witwicky, room 304, he passed two police officers as they left the same room.
“Are you the doctor in charge of Mr. Witwicky?” The tallest of the pair asked. The man had sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes.
“Yes, I am Dr. Henderson,” The doctor and the two policemen shook hands and said their pleasantries.
“Mr. Witwicky will be under surveillance until his departure. Officer Samoff here will guard his room.”
“May I ask why?” The doctor asked.
“Eric has run away charges against him and is under investigation for several gang related incidents.” The officer said flatly. “His father has been notified and is on his way here.”
The doctor nodded.
“I’ll be going to speak with him now.” The doctor said and walked passed the two policemen, waving his goodbyes.
As Henderson pushed the door open he saw the young boy, dressed in the hospital’s white and blue poke-a-dot dressing, staring absently out the window at the night lit city of Portland. His head was bandaged and his right arm was in a sling. Not so much for his arm, but for his shoulder. He also had a bandage on his other forearm.
“Eric?” Henderson asked as he closed the door behind him.
The boy turned at the sound of his name.
“I’m Dr. Henderson and I’ll be doing a few examinations.” The doctor put his folder onto the bedside table and opened up the drawer beside it. He pulled on some purple colored gloves and several instruments. “How’s your noggin’ doing?”
“Fine.” Eric replied. “There’s some dull pain but not as bad as before, though.”
“How many stitches did we give you again?”
Spike thought for a moment.
“Three?” The doctor confirmed. “You got lucky. When I got into a car crash when I was 15 I ended up with 6 and a concussion.”
“I wasn’t in a car crash.” Eric replied sourly.
“You weren’t?” The doctor asked, an eyebrow raised expectantly. “Then how?”
Eric remained silent.
“I’ve been a practicing physician for 20 year now, Eric,” The Doctor said. “I know those kinds of injuries. And you were a very lucky boy.”
“It wasn’t a crash.” Eric replied. “It was an accident.”
The doctor sighed.
“Ok. Fair enough, then.” He replied as he checked Spike’s various reflexes and such.
Back at the Ark, Optimus Prime, too, was lying on a doctor’s examination table. The Autobot Commander lay motionless as Ratchet fidgeted among Prime’s internal circuitry. Among the damage was the Commander’s central motor plug which was, thank Primus, the only severe damage that needed immediate repair. Ratchet was meticulously reconnecting each wire back to its mother wire. Besides the internal damage, there was some major work to be done to his armor and quite frankly they didn’t have the resources to pull it off. There was some old metal, but over the years they had laid dormant in the Ark after crashing on Earth, it had become corrode and useless.
Ratchet sat down on a chair near the computer and sighed.
“What is It Ratchet?” Prime’s weak voice asked from the table.
“This isn’t good Prime.” The doctor replied. “We don’t have the recourses we need here. I don’t have anything to patch you up with. We need some materials. We’re barley keeping everyone on their feet with our limited Energon stores. If things keep on as they have been progressing ‘bots will be falling into stasis lock in large numbers.”
“Yes, Ratchet.” Optimus admitted with a sigh of resignation. “I know. But what can we do? The Decepticons are ruthless enough to steal energy from the humans, but I refuse to steal from their race.”
“They get away with it because they leave no witnesses to tell what happened.” Ratchet reminded the leader of the grim reality. “They must be another way for us to gather the necessary resources we need without attracting unwanted attention from the Humans.”
“Let me know if you think of anything.” Prime chuckled.
Ratchet laughed weakly. It was hard to laugh at such an impending problem. Sooner or later they were going to become desperate and Ratchet just prayed that somehow they found a way to overcome it.
As Ratchet went over to Teletran I to check up on Prowl and Cliffjumper’s progress with getting the some repairs on the back of the ship finished, a message came in to the super computer from…Ironhide!
“Ratchet? This is Ironhide.” The veteran Autobot said. “I’m on my way back from dropping the kid off. Some woman, a neighbor I think, took him to the human medical facility.”
“He should be fine now. The human doctors will be able to take care of him better than I’d have been able to.” Ratchet replied. “At least Grimlock had the sense to do something good.”
“Don’t get me started with that blow heart! He’s too reckless to be in charge for long.” Ironhide snapped virulently. “Get Prime fixed up quick Doc. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stand taking orders from that Dino-brain.”
“Roger that Ironhide.” With that said Ratchet severed the connection and went back to Optimus and begin repairs again. The next few days were going to be very trying and more than stressful for everyone.
Bumblebee starred blankly out at the Oregon desert. The sun had gone down some time ago and from his perch he could see the dazzling lights of Portland below. It was beautiful; like a small piece of Cybertron, home. How strange you begin to feel when you gaze out on a strange new world and thoughts of a home you never thought you would miss come drifting by like a stray memory.
“How’s it going, Bumblebee?” Hound asked as he came to sit next to the minibot. “Enjoying the scenery?”
“Yeah.” Bumblebee replied absently.
“Its amazing isn’t it?” Hound asked. “Their race’s only a couple million years old, but looks how fast they developed into all this!”
Hound indicated to the city with an enthusiastic gesture.
“It took Cybertronians twice as long to accomplish less than this.” Hound breathed.
Bumblebee looked at the green jeep.
“What do you mean?” He asked.
“Well it depends on which theory you prefer.” Hound explained. “I prefer the more realistic one.”
Bumblebee nodded. He knew what Hound meant now.
“You mean that the Quintessons made us?” The VW replied. “You don’t believe in Primus and the 13?”
Hound shook his head.
“I’m not religious Bumblebee. I’m surprised anyone is anymore with the war.” He replied. “What I was saying before was that if the Quintessons made us, then that would put the creation of the first Cybertronian city, Iacon, at somewhere around the 12th vorn of Nova Prime. Huamns took a fraction of the time and made all this!”
Smiling, Bumblebee shook his head at his friend.
“Jazz was right.” He said. “You really are a geek.”
Hound looked reproachful at Bumblebee’s comment.
“There isn’t anything ‘geek’ like about studying an alien race.” Hound snapped. “Aren’t you curious about their society?”
“Sure I’m curious,” He replied as he sat back and looked up at the stars. “But I’m not obsessed.”
“Suit yourself ‘Bugs.” Hound said, shaking Bumblebee’s comments off, and laid back to gaze at the stars.
Bumblebee looked around at the sparklng lights in the sky. They were so alien to him. He’d spent much of his life studying the stars and being able to judge almost any and everything by them, but these stars told him nothing.
“The stars here are so…”Hound began.
“Alien?” Bumblebee asked.
“Intriguing.” Hound finished. “The humans have named for all the constellations too. See that group? That group’s called Orion and the three in the middle’s Orion’s belt. Over there is Gemini, and up there, that bright one, is the North Star. Humans all over the Earth use that star to guide them. Throughout their history, Humans have looked to the stars for answers to life.”
“What were they expecting to find?” Bumblebee chuckled.
Hound snickered. “It sounds absurd to us, but just think about it for a moment; Humans were never given the answers from a higher being like Primus or even the Quintessons. They simply looked up and made their own answers. They made up an answer for the questions they didn’t have. They even thought the earth was flat up until about 500 years ago.”
“Flat?” Bumblebee laughed. “What gave them that stupid idea?”
Hound laughed too.
“If you look out everything looks flat right?”
“Yeah, but it’s not.” He replied.
“The Humans didn’t have any proof that the earth was round, at the time. They looked out, saw flat, assumed the earth was flat, and thought if you sailed far enough you’d fall off the edge of the world.”
Bumblebee laughed hard. Humans were so funny. Sure they made some pretty smart things, but that didn’t mask their ancestor’s pure stupidity
Not bad. I'm sure the quality would be lower, but will anyone think to scavenge junkyards for parts?
Not that is will be a big shocker/spoiler to learn, but that's essentially what they do. How they get fuel will be another matter.
Things will start buidling up in the next chapters so get ready to be shocked, apaulde(sp?), and ready for more!
Okay, I just finally finished this. Actually read the whole thing throughout the day. Very nice. I love how you switched up Spike. I love it when writers take risks and do something completely different. And I can tell your writing is improving with each chapter you finish. The only thing I see are spelling errors.
Nice work. Keep it coming, can't wait till the next chapter.
HAHAHAHAHA..... wait a minute... stupidity of our ancestors? someone ought to hit him upside the head.... or at least tell them off!
Keep posting, Hakudoushi! I want to read more! MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE!!!!
I am here again to point out some inconsistencies I have seen in the writing. I still have issues with the DB's being introduced, it seems that you just brought them in because you had written the battle into a corner and needed some way to have the Autobots and Spike escape. A simple paragraph describing say Grimlock waking up from Grimlock's point of view with a remembrance of when he went into stasis would have helped.
Then there is this:
It should not have been a tight fit, it should have been impossible. You need to keep scale in mind.
Currently other then that, it has been an entertaining read. I think you have the character personalities worked out well.
Yeah. There's some of those, unfortuantly. I'm more of aspontanious writer than a long thought out author. I have specific scenes and feelings I want to get across and I kinda skimp through the rest while still trying to keep a good pace. I'm on a rather rough spot right now. Its an awkward set in the story and I'm kinda hesitant to re write it. I may have to since its well...coming out kinda stupid. I may have to wait till inspiration hits me again to make it work for me. But I'm way ahead of schedual so it probably won't effect my updating.
keep posting Mr H. all in all it's a really good story. I do have a question though. Is it still a movie prologue or are you intending to develop it into a G1 re-write?
I mostly write the same way and have a very vague outline for what I want to do for a story, and as such have several chapters in between what I have posted, what I'm writing, and what I have DONE... It'll get better when you get ideas...
I usually end up reading what I have done in front of what I'm writing ans want to write more with ideas I get from that and add that into my story while I work my way to what I have done. I hope this small bit of experience helps you somehow.
And I hope you UPDATE soon!
Starscream ducked in time for the boulder to fly right over his head and smash into the wall behind him.
“Idiots! I am plagued by pure stupidity!” Megatron grabbed it another rock and flung at Skywarp. The rock hit the surprised Seeker in the chest and sent him spiraling to the ground. “I want them operational!”
“We haven’t the resources to repair them Mighty Megatron.” Starscream explained, ready to dodge another rock.
“I don’t care!” Megatron roared. “Find resources! Steal more energy from the insects if you must! Just get those slag piles fixed!”
With his boiling anger down to a simmer Megatron walked off to the back of the cave that served as Decepticon HQ for the time being.
Lying on the ground in the corner were three bodies. Each more damaged then the next. From the characteristics of their altmodes it was evident they’d been fixed as insects; A grasshopper, A beetle, and a horned beetle.
Starscream looked down at one in particular and growled.
“Of course you have to be the center of all the drama,” He sneered. “Bombshell.”
The other two, Kickback and Shrapnel, were useless to Megatron. Starscream discredited their leader for allowing the other two to live as long as they had. They wasted precious Energon keeping the three here with vain attempts to repair them. All they needed was Bombshell. He was the only one who would be able to find the Nemesis and get them off this mud ball of a planet and back to Cybertron. If Cybertron still existed that was…
Spike was startled out of a deep sleep by the door of his room bursting open. A man, in his early 50’s, stood in the doorway. His grey t-shirt was stained with grease and his jeans were old and worn from use. His face showed deep wrinkles under the eyes and his size, mostly due to his large stomach and muscular arms, made him look very intimidating. He’d lost his hair with the exception of the ring of grey sparkled brown hair around the base of his skull and wrapped around to his ears. His mouth was pulled into a frustrated scowl.
“Eric!” He snapped. “Where the hell have you been young man?”
Spike felt ill deep in his stomach as the man approached his bed.
“Around.” Spike replied in a small voice.
The man didn’t like the reply.
“Around? You ran away! I had half of Portland out there looking for you!” He snapped. “And on top of running away an officer says you’re under suspicion of gang related charges?”
The rage in the man’s voice didn’t subside in the least as he continued his rant.
“Not only did you steal from me, your brother and his family, but you add more shame to this family by joining a gang?”
Spike turns his head away from his father. Not out of guilt, but disgust.
‘How can you talk to me that way?’ Spike thought to himself.
“I’ve no idea what to do with you Eric.” Mr. Witwicky sighed.
Spike turned back to his father and scowled.
“You act like I’m some uncontrollable puppy.” Spike sneered. “You’ve never cared about what happens to me! You come busting in here asking where I’ve been. I’m in the Hospital Dad; the Hospital! I’m bleeding from my head, a bullet wound in my arm, and my arm in a sling!”
“And whose fault is that? If you’d have just..“ His father started.
“What? Just keep quite and stand still like a good soldier? Just do what I was told? Like Buster?” Spike raged. “The only thing I’ve ever been to you was a deadbeat son whose didn’t turn out like a perfect little clone like Buster!”
“This isn’t about Buster!” Witwicky said in a warning tone.
“Yes it is! It’s always been about him! You’ve never looked at me and said, “Wow Eric’s a special kid’! You always compare me to him! No Dad, I’m not a straight A student, I’m not going to join the baseball team or the ROTC!”
Mr. Witwicky snorted.
“You want me to lie to you and say you’re a special kid? What have you done in your life to deserve anything you have?” Eric’s father asked dryly.
Spike’s head spun with anger.
“What have I done? Plenty!” Spike scowled. “I learned how to play the guitar, I pulled failing grade from the gutter more that three times, and I do what I can! But all you see is the things I can’t do! The grades, sports, everything! You’ve never said anything remotely nice to me in my life!”
“You ungratefully bastard.” Mr. Witwicky cursed. “I’ve done everything for you. I clothe you, feed you, and I’m sending you to a great college!”
Spike reeled on his father in a rage.
”You’re sending me to military school because you know I don’t have the grades and we don’t have the money!” Spike’s eyes narrowed down to slits. “I told you I’m not joining the army!”
Mr. Witwicky’s face contorted into a severe sneer at his son’s words.
“Everyman in this family has served our country young man, and you’ll be breaking family tradition if you refuse to do your part.” Mr. Witwicky said slowly and steadily.
Spike rolled his eyes.
“Here we go again. This is exactly the reason I left!” Spike screamed. “I wouldn’t make it in the army! Even if I wanted to join!”
Suddenly someone knocked on the door and the two men turn to see a nurse standing in the doorway.
“I’m sorry Mr. Witwicky, but visiting hours are over and your bantering is disturbing other patients.” The burnet haired woman explained. She gestures to the door, indicating for Mr. Witwicky to leave. He complied.
The man walked briskly out the door, turned to look at his son one more time, and left.
“It’s time to change your bandages Eric.” The nurse said as she pulled new dressings from the cabinet in the room.
Spike didn’t hear the nurse. He was too mad at his father to even think straight.
‘Break family tradition…’Spike thought bitterly. ‘What about you? You broke family tradition by meeting My Mom. If you and Carol were so perfect why did see it necessary that you see my Mom at all?’
His air-conditioned office was a great relief to the hot summer months. As he closed the door behind himself, he made a mental note to replace the wobbly handle. The uniformed officer put his heavy briefcase onto the floor near his desk as he sat into the cushy leather seat. His desk was neatly organized with a couple picture of his family. One large photo pictured himself, a square jawed young man with the world at his feet, his wife; a beautiful minx with amber eyes and dark hair, and his pride and joy; 3 year old Kimberley; a bright eyesd toddler with her mother’s beauty and her father’s complexion. Next to that photo was one of him and his parents. The last was of his graduation party from West Point. A gathered crowd enjoyed food and drink; all of their faces lit up…except one. To the far right of the picture was a young teen, sulking and sipping a coke. His hair was like his, but his face had more roundness to it and the teen’s skin tone was lighter than his own. He wore dark blue t-shirt, black jeans and sat on a white lawn chair, separated from the festivities.
The boy was named Eric, his younger half brother, and he’d been missing for almost a month.
“Eric…” Buster Sighed as he looked away from the picture. Buster Witwicky was about to start his paper work for the day when a young intern knocked on the door. “Come in Jack.”
“Um…Brigadier General Francis wished to see you General.” The intern told him.
Buster looked up into the man’s face. The intern was only a few years older than himself and he was already starting to loose his hair. It was understandable; this was a very stressful job.
“Of course,” Buster said as he got up out of his seat.
Jack led Buster down several corridors to a large office in the back of the building. On the door was a gold plaque that read: Brigadier General James Francis. The intern knocked on the door and when the reply came from in the room to enter, Jack stuck his head in.
“General Witwicky is here to see you, sir.” Jack said stiffly.
“Send him in,” Was the reply. The voice was raspy and horse.
When Buster entered, he was greeted by a large oak wood desk covered in piles of variously sized papers, all of different colors. Pens littered the Desk and the walls of the room were painted black with only various awards and degrees to give it any color. Behind the oak wood desk sat an old man, not quite in the best shape of his life. His hair was white and the top of which was covered with a bad toupee.
“You may want to sit down, Buster.” The General said as he gestured to a chair across from his desk. “You are excused Jack.”
Embarrassed, the intern blushed and closed the door.
“What is this about General?” Buster asked.
The Brigadier General took a moment to gather his thoughts while disguising it as thought he was cleaning his reading glasses. He placed his hands folded on his desk and sighed.
“Buster, you’ve been here for a little over a year correct?” He asked.
“Yes, sir.” Buster replied calmly. “One year last March.”
The general nodded, satisfied.
“You’re obviously a man with a pride for his country.” The general continued. “In the short year I have been working with you, you have accomplished more as a general than I had when I occupied that very position.”
Buster looked at the old man, confused.
“I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean sir.” He replied.
The general got up and walked to the award covered wall and touched one in particular, gingerly. He took it off the wall and handed it to Buster.
“I received this ribbon from my superiors for my work during Vietnam.” He replied. “I’ll be retiring next month, Buster, and I am naming you as my replacement.”
Buster was so shocked he almost dropped the award.
“S-sir? Me? Sir, please, there must be someone here more…”He began.
“Qualified?” The Brigadier General scoffed with a harsh laugh. “Believe me when I say this, boy. No one in this damn government could do a better job than you. And believe me I looked. I didn’t want to be remembered for hiring a deadbeat replacement and I’m sure not leaving it up to the higher reps to decide for me. No, Buster, you are the only deserving candidate in this whole business I have complete confidence in. You have everything it takes to go all the way up to the Presidency if you really wanted to. The lord knows I’d vote for you.”
Buster looked dumbfounded at his shoes. He could feel his stomach twisting itself into a knot. But it was a good feeling. His shock and fear suddenly melted away to reveal a glowing warmth inside.
His grin beamed up at the General. Buster got up out of his chair and shook the Brigadier General’s hand.
“Thank you, thank you, sir!” Buster breathed. “You have no idea how much this means to me!”
The old man laughed heartily.
“You have no idea, Buster, how much this job will change you and the people around you.” He stated cheerfully. “This is the beginning of an exciting career for you, Buster Witwicky.”
(Author's notes: Don't ya just love forshadowing? =p)
Very nice chapter. Keep it up.
Sorry for the wait guys. I've been busy.
Well here it is; the start of the second story arc. As to Throwback's question: I write it in the premisis of being my version of the movie as a whole (the three part trilogy) but is may look like a g1 rewrite. It may look as that for a while till we get to the climax. I've still one small detail to think out before I can proceed anyfarther than I've gotten as far as the opening of the second arc is concerned. Altogether there will probably be around 5-6 story arcs all together.
Spike sat at the bus stop with a black duffle bag sitting next to him. There was no indication of the injuries he had sustained earlier that month. Life had returned to a strange new reality. Buster had been promoted to Brigadier General and offered to let Spike crash at his house till their Dad cooled off. Spike stayed at the house with Aunt Julie and his niece Kimberly most days. Since summer had begun Spike had found it hard to really concentrate on anything without his thought wandering back to earlier that month, back to the Alien robots he’d met and who had saved him. Not once since then had Spike seen any vehicle that even resembled any of the Autobots, not even a little yellow VW…
Spike let out a sigh. He had to admit though; things weren’t as bad as before. His Dad seemed to give up on him almost and Buster was being more ‘brotherly’ to him. The courts had ordered Spike attend a special school for ‘disturbed teens’ to try and straighten him out. That was probably why his father had been easy on his the last couple weeks. He was depending on this school to turn his deadbeat son into something.
His first day was today. He had all his paper work in his bag and everything else he was required to bring; an assortment of camping gear and some personals. He found it disturbing he had to live there for a month for assessment by the people in charge there. He expected it was just a bunch of shrinks asking how he ‘felt’.
As the bus pulled up to the station and Spike climbed on he heard a faint cry.
“Wait!” cried a young woman. She was carrying two back packs and what looked like a boom box.
“Hold it,” Spike told the driver as he put his bag down and held his hand out for the young woman to take.
Grateful and out of breath, she took it. Her black streaked blond hair was damp with perspiration and her makeup was smudged. “Thanks a bunch, man.”
Spike nodded and picked his bag up.
“Sure thing,” Spike walked to the back of the bus and sat down. The woman took a seat more towards the front and relieved herself of her burdens by placing them all on the seats around her.
As the Bus moved on and all the other passengers eventually got off, it left only him and the mystery Goth girl. As Spike’s stop approached he grabbed his bags and got ready to get off, he noticed the young woman was doing the same.
As they both got off and walked towards the building they met each other’s gaze.
“You’re going here too?” She asked.
“Yeah.” Spike replied. “Court order.”
“Same here,” She smiled. “What did you do?”
“Ran away,” Spike smiled back.
“Hey! Me too!” She laughed. “Wanna ditch this crap hole?”
Spike shook his head.
“Naw,” He smirked. “I go to juvenile Hall if I do.”
The girl’s face fell.
“Yeah, me too.” As they came to the doors Spike opened one and allowed her to pass. “Thanks. So what’s your name?”
Spike followed her into the cool air of the lobby.
“Eric.” He replied. “Your’s?
“Carol Madison, but you can call me Carly.” She replied sweetly.
They both took a seat in the chairs and talked. Carly was pretty smart. Her entire demeanor was completely opposite of what her style of clothing indicated. She’d run away from her step-dad when he came home drunk one night and beat her. Before that she’d never been in any trouble. In fact, she was more of a person to avoid such things. Her dressing patterns however told a different story. She wore black nail polish and had three rings with Celtic designs on them. She wore a Killers T-shirt over a long sleeved pink and black stripped shirt. She also had a pair of tight fitting jeans on with a short purple skirt over that with a chain of charms and do-dads as a belt. Her hair was bobbed with black and silver highlights. Her eyes were covered in dark mascara and silver eye shadow.
“Carol Madison?” A woman at the desk in the front of the lobby asked. “Mr. Ford will see you know.”
Carly looked up, annoyed at the woman for interruption of their conversation.
“OK.” She sighed and got up with all her things. “Sorry. Bye, Eric. See you around, OK?”
“Sure!” Spike said excitedly. He blushed at how eager he sounded. He sounded desperate! Spike waved his last goodbye and watched her disappear down a hallway.
“What’s your name young man?” The woman at the desk asked.
“Eric.” He replied as he walked up to her desk.
She scanned over her computer with narrow eyes.
“Last name?” She asked.
Spike hesitated. He didn’t want to risk the chance of Carly hearing his last name; in fear she might laugh at him; like all the other kids his age did.
“Witwicky…”Spike said weakly.
“Excuse me?” The woman asked looking up. She was starting to get on Spike’s nerves.
“Witwicky!” Spike snapped loudly. He immediately closed his mouth, blushing at his action.
“AHA!” She exclaimed after a moment of scanning. “There you are. Miss Kim is in the last door to your right. Just down the same hallway as Miss Madison.”
With a sigh, Spike hauled his duffle bag across his shoulders and ambled down the carpeted hallway.
(Four Months Later)
Buster stared stressfully at the pile of reports in front of him. Three hefty stacks of vanilla folders along with satellite photos, sample pictures, and morgue shots of victims; and there were hundreds of victims, littered his no longer tidy desk. Several field agents had sent in reports on the Alaskan oil refineries that had been attacked and virtually obliterated the first week of last month. Before that, the month before, three oil rigs off the coast of California had met the same grim fate.
Each refinery carried up to roughly 75 personnel working on the rigs themselves at the time of the attacks. No one was found alive. Out of the 5 attacks there were 20 missing people and 352 confirmed dead. The public had been outraged, much like after September 11, but this time there was no one claiming responsibility. The official cause was still terrorism, but Buster knew better. This wasn’t done by Islam extremists. As he flipped through the first folder he came across the photo of a young man. His body laid face down on the platform of the rig in such a way that indicated that whatever had killed him killed him while he was running away from it. In fact, as he looked at more photos, they all seemed to tell the same story. Each body that was found on the platform was completely intact with single shots to vital areas, such as the head, neck, and chest. The wounds looked like they were made with some sort of high heated weapon; a laser maybe. The only bodies on the platform that were not killed due to a weapon were three. Each looked as though they were crushed by some heavy object. These perplexed, and frightened, Buster to a far extent. The FBI and CIA had scientists analyzing the photos at the moment and would hand in their reports to designated officials. The other bodies of the victims had drowned. In the case of the Alaskan rigs, died from hypothermia or had heart attacks from the sudden exposure to the freezing water.
Buster felt a sharp pain in his neck from being hunched over the reports for hours. He stood, stretched a decided to call it a night. As he gathered the reports and filed them accordingly into a file cabinet inside a locked safe, full of similar folders and documents, there was a knock on his office door.
“Yes?” He asked.
“Here’s a new report sir.” Jack, the intern, said as he poked his balding head inside.
Buster sighed and walked over to the door as he pulled and buttoned his jacket.
“Is it classified?” He asked.
“Mr. Barker didn’t say.” Jack said. This was bad. If the file was classified, then it’d be a federal offense to take it out of the building without a higher up’s permission.
Buster just grabbed the file, too tired and sore to care.
“If it’s from Barker then I’m sure it’s OK.” Buster nodded and walked past Jack out the door. “Make sure charley cleans up under my desk real good OK, Jack? I spilled some goldfish cracker crumbs down there today.”
“Yes, sir.” He said. “Goodnight sir.”
“Goodnight, Jack.” Buster waved as he walked out of the corridor and down the hall to the elevator.
As Buster waited for the elevator to come her opened the folder from Barker. A photo fell from between the papers. It landed next to Buster’s foot. As he bent down to pick it up and put it back into the folder, he caught a glimpse of a red semi truck.
I so look forward to new posts from you, Petey, and Jetplague. Good work, keep em' coming......
The Evolution of Legends continues............
I'll be trying to get another chapter written over the weekend so I can post the next chapter soon.
Thanks for your reviews guys. They're very much appriciated.
That was a very good read. Can't wait for more!
MORE, MORE, MORE!! No, seriously, great fanfic.
OK, ppl. You asked for it and here it is, the second chapter of the second story arc:
The streets of downtown Portland were abuzz with talk of terrorists and conspiracy. Cafes were filled with young inquirers of the latest news from Washington on the recent attacks on several major oil refineries. Adults mostly complained about the ever growing gas prices while their more radical and reform minded teens talked of major changes in the government due to these events.
Outside a small café, sitting at a table with an umbrella shading them from the afternoon sun, sat two teens. Their half finished ice coffees melted in the heat as they took priority over them by gazing into each other’s faces.
“I never noticed how blue your eyes were…”Spike commented.
Carly blushed madly at the sudden compliment.
“You spend hours staring at me and you never noticed that?” Carly laughed. “You’re too oblivious…”
Spike shrugged off her comment.
“Like you never realized something about me you didn’t notice before.” Spike snickered.
Carly thought for a moment.
“Well there is that third eye…”
Playing along, Spike reached up to his forehead, with a fake face of fear.
“Is it that noticeable?” He played. “Damn! I thought the foundation would cover it up!”
Carly laughed. The last couple months had been great for her and Spike. They’d been going out since the first week they met. Their time at the ‘special’ school was over and they were relatively clear of any other court dues. Spike was cleared from the gang investigation due to his cooperation with the police in bringing Duke and his thugs into court. They were now on trial for 3 counts of arson, 5 attempted murder charges, and 6 murder charges. Needless to say Mr. Witwicky was…less then happy at finding out his son had joined a gang, but he was also faintly proud (very faintly) that Spike had done the right thing and helped sac the rest of them.
Spike would be a witness in the trial next April. Spike couldn’t help but feel weird that he would be a key witness in two murder trials within a 6 month period. He dreaded next December; when he would take the stand in his own Mother’s murder trail.
Carly had offered to go with him in December and even in April if he so wished. Carly was so caring, Spike wondered sometimes what he did in his life to find a girl like her. It was a strange feeling to be in love, especially when he always saw his life devoid of such feelings. He was glad Carly was there to prove him wrong.
Carly reached over and took a long sip from her iced coffee. Spike looked down at his own beverage and took a long swag. When he finished off the coffee he could feel the cold liquid ran down his throat. The coldness in his throat made him start to cough.
“You’ll get a brain freeze, y’know,” Carly giggled.
Spike shook himself, trying to warm himself from the beverage.
“I never get brain freezes.” Spike retorted with a smile.
As they gathered their cups, threw them away, and got ready to leave the café, Spike noticed there was some commotion up the street.
He could hear some people screaming and there was some smoke up at the intersection.
“What the hell’s going on up there?” Spike wondered.
“What?” Carly asked. Spike pointed to the intersection up the street, but due to the afternoon traffic and parked cars around the café, they couldn’t see any details. “I wonder what’s happening. A car accident?”
“Maybe, I dunno.” Spike admitted. In an almost trance like state, Spike made his way into the street to see if there was any way for him to see. As he wedged himself between two parallel parked cars and made his way into the street. Traffic had stopped into gridlock and several motorists had exited their vehicles trying to see what was happening. Many were cursing and yelling that they would be late for work and such. One such man got out of his dark green Hummer and started walking up the street to the commotion.
“What the fuck is taking this long? Was there an accident or what the fuck?” The man’s temple pulsed with his racing heart. His face was red and his shirt was slightly damp with perspiration. He was a man of large build. He wore a light blue polo shirt with Levi jeans. As he continued down the street in a raging march he saw Spike and walked up to the boy.
“You!” He demanded. “What’s happening?”
“I haven’t a clue,” He admitted, trying not to have too much of a conversation with this man. He didn’t look too friendly.
“Well, climb up on yer junk pile of a car and see!” The man said very condescendingly.
Spike was about to protest that this wasn’t his car when the man gave Spike a push.
With an aggressive sigh, Spike hopped onto the hood of the dark green Scion and looked. He really couldn’t see much of anything. There was a large amount of smoke near the intersection. They only thing he noticed was one disturbing thing; people were starting to run this way in a panic. As he continued to watch a large black flying object flew from within the smoke. No! Two objects. The hovered over the running civilians and one reached down and picked a screaming man up and flew high into the sky.
Horrified, Spike traced the object and its hostage, but lost it when it flew into the sun’s hot glare.
“Well?” The man asked agressivly from the ground.
Spike didn’t answer, or rather didn’t have the ability to answer the man.
The running people were coming closer and many motorists were beginning to abandon their cars in the street to start running. Whatever it was they were running from they didn’t want to get to close to find out. Carly shuffled uncomfortably near the scion where Spike stood.
“Eric,” She whimpered. “I’m starting to freak a little…”
Just as the crowd of fleeing people was about to reach the Café where they were, Spike heard a strange sound. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever heard. It was like something was falling…something big!
Spike looked up to where he thought the noise was coming from, to his utter horror, down fell the body of the man whom the dark object had taken. Well, parts of him at least. From his mid-ribcage to the left, there wasn’t anything there. His left shoulder, arm, and internal organs were all gone. But there was plenty of blood. It splattered onto passing people and onto pretty much everything within a three meter diameter.
The Man who had yelled at Spike to see what was happening, let out a girly scream and ran back to his Hummer. He put the large vehicle in reverse and backed up right into the abandoned Cadillac behind him.
Carly let out such a shriek; it knocked Spike out of his trance. He jumped off the Scion and grabbed her arm.
“Carly!” He yelled over the screams of people running past them. “You need to get out of here!”
Carly snapped out of her own horror induced trace and stared at her boyfriend, a look of pure terror plastered on he face. Her eyes were already tearing up.
“What about you?” She pleaded, gripping his forearms tight in fear. “I won’t leave without you!”
Spike’s mind raced and his heart palpitated in his throat.
“Just run! I’ll catch up!” He said and gave her a little shove. With Carly’s arm disconnected from his, he turned and ran full sprint down the street, the other way. Carly gave out a little cry, but when Spike disappeared into the Smokey streets, with a heavy heart, she turned the other way and ran with the other fleeing people.
Spike stopped sprinting when he was sure Carly wasn’t following.
‘Sorry Carly,” He apologized.
He had reached the intersection faster than he expected. In the middle was a three car pile up and…more bodied. One was still in their car, ripped apart with limbs missing. Then there was the blood; lots and lots of blood. The other bodies were in the same shape as the first, but they looked as though they’d been dragged from their cars and then…dismembered. There were some more abandoned cars every which way too.
Spike stood, mortified, looking at the grim scene around him. Then a though popped into his head.
Suddenly his stomach heaved and he fought to keep his stomach’s contents in his stomach.
‘What the hell am I doing here?’ He thought. What had possessed him to do this? Have you ever do something so stupidly brainless that you begin to question your own sanity? Well that is pretty much what Spike’s thinking.
Just as the smoke began to clear and Spike turned to go, he heard a loud, shattering crash.
Startled, Spike jumped at the noise and faced the direction where it originated.
A Silver Moped laid crushed and broken, not 10 feet away from Spike, on the ground.
A chill climbed up Spike’s back and up his shoulders.
He looked up to where he assumed the vehicle had fallen from and there, hovering above the intersection, was a black mass.
As the smoke cleared further and the sun hit the black mass, he saw in full view, what it really was. And what he saw not only surprised him it made him feel like running down the street screaming, but his feet froze and kept him planted where he was.
Its body was colored in a black, yellow, and purple color scheme. Bright yellow eyes stared back at him. Its metal body was dulled with various scratches and wounds with two yellow tube-like appendages protruding from its head.
As spike stared numbly at the creature he noticed two things almost simultaneously. It was covered in warm, sticky human blood and it dripped off the body like perspiration. From its bottom jaw to its feet, crimson liquid dripped steadily off. Then there was a small purple patch on its arm. The symbol that had been burned into Spike’s mind the second he set eyes upon it.
“Decepticon…” Spike breathed. Suddenly the blood soaked transformer charged at Spike, screeching. Instinctively Spike ducked, but it caught his shirt and lifted him up in to the sky.
The grisly thought of what this thing would do to him raced through his mind; Spike struggled madly to somehow get loose. As the creature flew over some parked cars he slipped through his shirt and landed on the roof of a parked Lexus.
Sharp pain shot through his chest as Spike rolled off the car’s hood and onto the sidewalk. Momentarily disoriented, Spike staggered to his feet. As he pulled himself up straight he felt another sharp pain in his chest and he doubled over in pain.
The Decepticon swooped back over and dived down for another go. Panic raced through Spike’s mind as he realized he couldn’t get away. The Decepticon came closer and closer; faster and faster; its eyes flashing a bright yellow. A blurred object ran in front of him as the transformer came close to him.
Carly fell to the ground as the robot’s momentum transferred to her after she struck it with the chair. Not so much hurt as surprised, the Decepticon picked itself up; shaking its head.
Spike snapped out of it and staggered over to Carly.
“Carly!” He scowled. “I told you to get out of here! Why didn’t you listen?”
Carly looked into his face, tears still streaming down. Her eyes swollen and her makeup was ruined.
“I was just coming to check up on you…”She sobbed. “…and you…that thing…almost got you!”
Spike starred at the girl.
The sound of the Decepticon moving caught his attention. He grabbed Carly’s hand and pulled her to her feet, wincing in pain, he lead her over to one of the abandoned cars and pushed her into the back seat while he climbed into the front. The keys dangled from the ignition slot; a picture of a little blond girl on the key chain with blood smeared on it ominously. Spike turned the ignition and the engine roared. Panic seeped through him as he drove around the intersection down the one way street that had been left unblocked. Carly yelped at every little bump as the car speeded down the street. Spike looked in the rearview mirror and saw the black Decepticon was following them; flying along the road, catching up fast.
Spike turned his attention back to the road and swerved down a corner in effort to ditch the monster. He looked back to see if the Decepticon was following and saw nothing. Instead a feeling of relief Spike felt a deep dreading in the pit of his stomach. Where was it…?!
The Decepticon swooped down from above and crashed right into the windshield.
Spike released the wheel in an attempt to cover his face from the glass, but his foot slipped and punched the gas, sending them swirling out of control.
Carly screamed and covered her face from the flying glass. The car spun another three times before hitting the side of a building.
Spike’s head was spinning like crazy when he opened his eyes. The Decepticon had been thrown off the front of the car when he’d lost control. Spike quickly checked himself and realized that despite a few cuts he was fine. He turned around and to check on Carly.
She sat motionless in her seat, her head resting on her chest.
She’d been knocked unconscious.
“Carly!” Spike reached over the seat to touch her face. Just as his finger tips touched her left cheek, the driver side door exploded off with a loud crash.
The Decepticon threw the door across the street where it embedded itself into the wall above a small shop. People, who had been hiding within, began to scattered through the streets, screaming.
The Decepticon reached into the car and pulled Spike out. He lifted the frightened boy above his eye level and growled.
“No more running-running.” It sneered. “None run from Shrapnel and lives-lives…”
Other then a few spelling problems, it's a great read! Cliff hanger! Nice. Can't wait for the next chapter.
Separate names with a comma.