Also known as Fanfic part Two. My second story is a largely original concoction with original portrayals of classic Transformers characters and concepts. It is my first attempt at creating a world and personalities myself. If the Predacons story was the prototype, this is the first production sample. I'm already well into writing the story and produce installements regularily on TFW2005.com. As such I will be making periodic additions here as well.
And now...
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A dry fall day in the quite town of Hamville, Ontario. Frost lined the edges of the grass blades, leaves fluttered against the gentle wind. The cracked and sorry roads were bare save the occasional parked car. Thin beams of light came down from the holes in the overcast. It was cottage season, and many were away for the winter getting an early start on the holidays. Despite this activity was still present, in the form of late migrating birds and the occasional foraging squirrel. The town was innocent, peaceful, on every day but today. A low rumble, moved into the town. Like a million marching feet shaking the Earth. It moved quickly with determination. It was large, black, gold lines reflected in the sun rays. It’s six massive wheels violently chewed up asphalt and spit it out. It spun around a corner, screeching so loud birds took flight. Hot on it’s trails was a buckling, clanking behemoth on eight wheels. A cable swung from side to side of it’s back, and white smoke spewed from two stacks on either side of it. The two machines barrelled down the narrow streets, knocking over trashcans and clipping lampposts. The black machine turned another corner, as it did a large block on top spun around to face it’s pursuer. Panels pulled back and two metal tubes extended. Fire erupted from the tips. The jets of flame washed over the vehicle in tow, blackening it’s deep blue paint. It swerved, losing speed. The black vehicle approached a small overpass. There was no way the monster would fit. It shuddered, and flexed. The flame throwers retracted. Geometric plates and panels separated and overlapped, the vehicle, now much thinner and longer, slid through the opening. The blue one recovered, but too late. The massive machine split, doing the same as the other, except different, it stretched out. Hands emerging from the center, it raised itself, grabbed the edge of the overpass and pulled itself over. The end split and reformed into legs, the body flattening. It rolled over the overpass, landing on it’s long legs and pulled together, returning to it’s previous form. It continued to pursue, and the black vehicle knew this. It broke apart, dozens of moving parts spinning, turning and clicking, it reformed into a titanic monster. It’s massive arms ended in long, thin fingers, it’s circular feet hovered but centimetres off the ground, and it’s long head ended in two, malicious red eyes. It’s hand began to spark and glow. The air around it wavered with heat, and energy balled in the being’s fist. It threw the blast underhand to the oncoming truck, which broke apart and rolled into the blast. A cloud of smoke exploded out on impact, and the blue being sprinted out. Running full speed, the black beast charged up another shot, and tossed. The energy hit the runner dead center. It tripped, and fell, sliding to a stop in a ditch. Grass and dirt went flying. The black being flexed, hydraulics and gears wheezing and grinding. It spun around and returned to it’s six wheeled appearance. The blue robot pulled it’s face out of the ground and spat out dirt. It pulled it’s arm out from under it and pressed it’s hand up against the side of it’s head.
“Ironhide,” It said aloud. “She’s headed your way!”
The black tank continued unopposed down the street. It seemed to have escaped, until a dark grey truck smashed into it’s right side. Bothe vehicles crushed on impact, but not from damage, but from both vehicles splitting apart like they blue truck before. They shape shifted again, the black into the same monstrous, hulking form on one knee, the grey into a stout, bulky humanoid. The grey robot’s yellow eyes twitched as it shook itself. The black robot stood and balled it’s hands into fists.
“Strika,” The grey machine said. “You’ve got some nerve. I thought we made it clear last time you leave the town alone!”
The black robot, Strika, reached down and grabbed a parked car of the street. She hurled it at Ironhide, who dived out of the way.
“The day I take orders from your kind is the day I surrender my soul to the Allspark, cur!” Strika said, she charged at Ironhide, who took off towards her. Strika punched at Ironhide, who blocked and struck his own blow. Strika parried and kicked Ironhide in the midsection. He doubled over. She delivered an uppercut, which Ironhide dodged, grabbed her outstretched arm and pulled her aside. She grabbed Ironhide’s stubby leg and pulled him off his feet. He fell, taking Strika with him. They rolled and she broke free, running and transforming into the black vehicle. Ironhide stood, just in time for the blue robot to catch up.
“Optimus!” Ironhide exclaimed. The blue robot ran past him, running full speed after Strika. She was getting away, until a small, red car screamed around the corner. The sleek vehicle’s engine roared as it sped past Optimus, easily gaining on the tank. It zipped around the larger, clumsier machine, driving all over the road. Strika tried to run the small car over, but it was too fast. The car pulled in front. Strika accelerated, and the red car broke apart. It arched inwards, it’s rear pulling up and separating. It pushed off the ground with it’s front tires and changed in mid-air to a red and blue robot. The aggressor grabbed the leading edge of the tank and held on. Strika swerved, hoping to dislodge her attacker, but the red robot held firm, enduring the ride. Finally it’d had enough and the small one straddled the driver’s compartment, raised it’s hands together in the air, and brought them down on Strika’s roof. Strika transformed, grabbing the diminutive attacker in one hand and tossing them aside. The red robot went flying into a nearby pond, through the thin ice into the frigid water. Strika waited a moment, staring at the surface, then departed. Moments later Optimus and Ironhide drove up, and transformed. They ran down the sloped toward the water. Optimus waded into the pond and fished around. After a moment he pulled the red one out of the water. The smaller robot slapped the water in anger.
“Again I get thrown around!” She said, softly yet bitterly.
“Yeah, well I got a face full of lawn.” Optimus crawled lazily out of the pond. "Beat by a girl. I went to boot camp for this?" The red robot walked next to him, pulling the metal panels on her arms open to let water drain out.
“I hate being small.” She said.
“You’re not small, Road Rage,” Ironhide said gruffly. “You’re just… lightweight.” Optimus sighed, He fell onto his back, arms out.
“I am out of shape.” Optimus moaned.
“Say, what was Strika doing?” Road Rage said. “Usually she doesn’t just run away unless we’re all on the ground crying and bleeding.”
“What’s a ‘cur?’” Ironhide asked.
“That’s a good question.” Optimus said. ‘The thing about Strika, that is. She was either running from something, or had something she didn’t want us to get.”
“So Decepticons steal things now?” Road Rage sat on the street. “What would a Decepticon want from this town?”
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Strika pulled off the rural street onto a wide forest path. She followed it through the trees to a ravine. Driving she continued through the woods as the terrain got steeper and steeper. Eventually she got to a large cave. She stopped at the mouth and transformed. She entered, her hovering feet made her appear to “skate” across the ground. She slowed as she reached a wall. She knelt and brushed dirt off a large metal grating. She removed it and pulled a rusted lever. The rock wall pulled away and swung open. Strika squeezed her way through. The area behind the rock was lit crudely by lights stolen from the town. It was a massive cavern. Many tunnels led outward in different directions. Bats chirped and screeched above. Strika moved over to a large metal structure buried in the wall. The door automatically pulled away as she began to enter. A voice from the darkness echoed from behind her, and she turned.
“Ah-ah,” A raspy, harsh tone came from above. From the shadows overhead an inhuman creature descended. Held aloft by two propellers mounted on either shoulder, the robotic encroacher hovered just above the hulking Strika.
“Our master has requested solitude.” The hovering being said slyly.
“Obsidian,” Strika said. “Forgive my impertinence, I merely wished to deliver the parts I found to Shockwave.” She reached behind her and presented a small transformer.
“Ah,” Obsidian cocked his long, unusually shaped head, then waved his arm dismissively. “Shockwave is out, likewise scavenging for parts. He should be back…” A echoing boom resounded through the cave. “Now, it seems.” From across the cavern one of the many tunnels lit up, and from around the bend came a howling flying vehicle. The sleek craft dipped down upon exiting the tunnel and curled in on itself, landing as a purple robotic being. Unlike the others which had faces with eyes and what could be considered mouths, the only feature on Shockwave’s head was a single, inexpressive eye.
“Welcome back.” Obsidian said. Strika stepped forward, offering her find to Shockwave.
“I thought this could be used for the subterranean scanner,” Strika said. “I noticed you were-” Shockwave plucked the part out of her hand and held it in front of his face.
“Unacceptable for that purpose.” Shockwave said in monotone. “This unit’s parts would be more suited to repairing the damage to my radiation detector.” Shockwave turned and walked towards a table made out of scrap and started taking the transformer apart, separating each component into neat rows. Strika and Obsidian watched for a moment before turning to each other.
“Sometimes it seems his broken gadgets have more personality than him.” Obsidian shrugged. He noticed the scrapped paint on her armour. “Did your recent parts quest get you into trouble?”
“Autobots sought to stop me,” Strika said. “I wasted little time.”
“So you could hurry back to give Shockwave a present?” Obsidian laughed. Strika glared at him. “There’s no shame in admitting you couldn’t take them all, my dear.” Strika kicked Obsidian into the wall, he knocked over a generator. Strika chuckled under her breathe, before she was knocked aside. She turned, and Shockwave stood behind her. He leaped into the air and roundhouse kicked her into and empty area of the cave. Obsidian lifted himself off the generator. He brushed himself off and addressed his supporter.
“Thank you Shock-” Shockwave grabbed Obsidian by the throat and threw the large Decepticon across the cave into Strika.
“Do not damage my equipment again.” Shockwave said. He knelt down and righted the generator.
Obsidian and Strika stood, shaking their heads. Shockwave heel-turned and went back to his work. Strika and Obsidian said nothing, and went their separate ways. Strika went back to the doorway, confident she’d be free of further harassment. As she entered a strange melodic sound touched her ears. She followed it. A voice, unfamiliar. Softer, organic. It’s pitched flowed up and down. She made it to his chamber. The sound was behind a large, sharply detail metal door. Strika stood straight and double checked herself to assure she was presentable, then tapped the enter button. The door split, folded, and hissed away. Inside the floor rose up into a small hill in the center. On this hill was a tall chair, a glowing screen hung suspended above the left armrest. The sound was intensifying, getting louder, until a slow hand tapped the screen. The sound instantly dropped in volume until it was but a background noise. The chair swivelled around, and in it sat a cross-legged titan, his body a cool blue meal, every panel on him sharpened like a razor, separated out so no edge was obscured. He slowly moved his hand over the top of the small screen.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” The mechanical man said. “The creatures of this world call it music. Opera, to be specific.” He closed the screen, and the sound left the room.
“Funny how it is,” He rose out of his chair. “We are so alike, our races. Yet ours has been around for millennia, and we never came close to creating anything like that. All we did was invent war…” He turned stared at Strika. His inhuman face flexed in what one could assume to be a smile. “And what a wonderful thing we did. What have you to report, Strika my dear?”
“Lord Megatron,” Strika bowed. “We have almost hit the target destination. Once we’ve finished scanning this sector. It should be close.”
“And the Autobots?” Megatron said, he stretched his hands. “Have they any idea what we’ve done?”
“None at all my lord.” Strika replied. “They are snivelling imbeciles fighting a lost battle.” Megatron chuckled.
“Of course they are.” Megatron walked down the hill towards the exit, Strika remained with her head down, sliding out of his way.
“Have Obsidian meet me outside.” He said. “I think it’s time I meet them personally.”
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