My first shot at writing a real story with characterization, plot, and suspense. Read at thy peril! PART I -Year 2050, March 25 - Markex 103.11 Epsilon- Morning dawned on Cybertron-- or rather, on its Southwest Pole, the only fifth that really mattered anymore. Shockwave stared as the sun came over the horizon, popping straight into the center of the sky as it always did. It was a new sun, but it had not been born of the primeval gases 9as its fellow-stars were) but of Ores 2 and 13: "Time" and "Power" operating so closely that one became the other and at the same time consumed it, but also restored it: so that the (completely sought-after and engineered) effect was of a planet-sized energy sphere constantly flinging out seemingly-unsustainable quantities of light and heat, which somehow stopped abruptly after passing another limit in space. However questionable the naturality of such energy, Shockwave reflected, it was an excellent design: all ten fifths of Cybertron got plenty of heat and light-- and it cost nothing. More to come. Note that I jump kind of randomly between different eras, places, and universes, so it is vital to read the temporal and dimensional data at the top of the section.
-Year 2011, July 11 - Markex 103.11 Epsilon- Megatron stepped into the light. He had changed much in his travels and was now a Headmaster, triple-changer, and could, in an emergency, enslave smaller Transformers to become his arms. But all this was incidental to his current situation: his final battle with Fire Convoy was drawing near. All the gadgets had been, individually, either destroyed or made commonplace. Energy had been gathered, Starscream had tried to rebel, Combiners had risen and fallen, and random reformattings had taken place here and there. Megatron checked to make sure Soundblaster was getting this. The errant cinematographer had contracts with both him and Convoy, but Megatron had to be sure Starscream hadn't bribed him to... well, Megatron wasn't sure, but you could never really trust a Neutral, right? Fire Convoy, too, stepped into the light. His Refined-Energon chestplate had lost most of its chrome, his shoulders flopped back when not in use, and his his blaster-pistol was nowhere to be found. Yet still Fire Convoy strode forward. Across the battlefield, Megatron began the pre-battle arch-villain abuse. "You can't win this one, Convoy," he rasped. "Your shoulders won't even stay forward. The only thing that saved you before was your friends. Loyal, dedicated cannon fodder. Aren't you sad for them, Convoy? don't you wish you could've done more for them? After all, it didn't have to be like this!" In the space between them, Megatron projected a hologram of their last battle, in which five Autobots, acting on Convoy's instructions, had made themselves look like certain Decepticons and got close enough to capture Megatron. Alas, their disguises had been terrible, so Megatron had immediately ripped out the sparks of two, decapitated a third, and was about to start on a rampage when the Autobots retreated. He then killed the two fakes. Fire Convoy wept. "Of course I'm sad for them. I grieve for them every day. But their sacrifice is what allows me to go on." "Oh, so now you're an orator, is that it?" jeered Megatron. "Well, you'll never get the Box of Knowledge to open. Deceptitron will see to that!" "Megatron, what is Deceptitron doing to the Box?" "Oh, wouldn't you like to know. Well, Convoy, this is it. The ultimate test of who is too weak for the Box. Hard to believe, isn't it? After three years' battling on this Primusforsaken planet, it all comes down... to THIS!" As he was speaking, Megatron balled up his fists and charged his thrusters. At the word "THIS!" he sprang for a rocket-powered punch at Fire Convoy's faceplate. Convoy, however, saw the blow coming, so just begore contact, he activated a transformation slider that raised his entere torso(besides the backbone and head) by a meter and a half. As a result, Megatron's fist hit the Refined-Energon chestplate and it rippled under the impact. Convoy's knees buckled, but his floppy shoulders now sprang into action, grabbing at Megatron's hands before they could pummel him. They grappled on the ground with Megatron on top, but now Convoy's legs were sandwiching and squeezing Megaton's as the latter lost his gravitational advantage and Convoy rolled over him.They could bash each other all episode, Soundblaster knew, but none of the Quadwal humans much cared for 'robot fight club' shows anymore-- they wanted plot. A little brutality right now, however, might save the show in the long run. Soundblaster lifted his visor and stared at Fire Convoy's spark chamber, willing him to superconsciously wish to finish Megatron quickly. He zoomed in with his movie camera to capture the upcoming moment. "I can NOT let this go on," Fire Convoy grunted. He lifted up on his thighs, pulled open his adversary's chest, and prepared to forcibly disconnect Megatron's spark casing from his body. Soundblaster turned on some underappreciatedly epic music and lowered his visor.
-Year 3,000,000 B.C., April 8 - Markex 103.11 Epsilon- Tarantulas slunk away from the Darksyde with an energon cube in one claw and an Inhibitor Claw in the other. He held the latter behind his back as he entered his lair and was nevertheless alarmed to see the room full of ancient Transformers. "What iss the meaning of thiss, Ssidewayss? I brought your energon cube!" "Yes, but you brought also this crude mechanism with which to forestall me. You wished to tame me, you coward. I had hoped for more. Not expected, but hoped..." As he spoke, Sideways grabbed the Inhibitor Claw and held it close to Tarantulas' back. "The only reason I'm not doing this is that we need you. I need you, Tarantulas. And they need me... "Logos, he must cooperate if we are to have any success." Sideways finished. One of the ancient transformers, who had tall wings (it was a wonder he even fit in the cave) and no visible faction insignia, took a few steps forward, bent down, and lifted his visor for a few seconds. The eyes were deep, almost infinitely so, but not soulless; no, as Tarantulas looked, he could almost see the outline of a mind very like his own, which yearned for his freedom and could only have it if... "Bring the spark fuser, Vec-Tor," muttered Sideways. "You i trust most among the Triskaidekatoi. Everyone else, stay back." The one called Vec-Tor slashed his sword and a portal appeared in the air, but not one of the bulky, chaotic transwarp portals the Darksyde had conjured to get to Earth, but a neat little parting-- it could hardly be called a tear-- in the fabric of reality. he reached in and pulled out a staff, short, with prongs on each end and a slight bulge in the middle. "Your wills are aligned," said Logos, lowering his visor again. "Begin the transfer." Vec-Tor held the staff with one pronged end facing Sideways and the other aimed at Tarantulas' chest. If Primus were omnipotent, he never would have allowed the Spark Fuser to exist. Indeed, even if he were merely omniscient, he could still easily see to its destruction. As it was, he felt only a minor pang in his AllSpark when Tarantulas and Sideways became one. They were both dimensionally misplaced, and as such were each technically the dominions of two different Primii. Being so displaced, however, their sparks had lost the original tie to their Progenitor and sought an easier connection. But as it was, the only place that cared whether Sideways and Tarantulas were following the rules of existence and free will was on a scanner in Cloud World, a dimensionally adrift future Cybertron whose inhabitants had long since taken it upon themselves to sort out the existential anomalies enabled by Primus' aformentioned lack of omniscience. The Cloud Autobots used an ExPhyle generator to muddle all memories concerning both Sideways and Tarantulas, including those of some higher-dimensional sentient aspects of the Whole Sort Of General Mish Mash whose memories were intrinsically tied to reality... (Oh, and by the way, sorry about my weird spacing. The indentation just isn't working right.
