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thanksjro · 5 years ago

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Polyhex Wars, Book 1 Part 4: Starscream, What Are You Even Doing?

Red Alert is not enjoying his time in space. Nobody on the Autobot team currently in space is likely enjoying it, but it’s Red Alert’s internal monologue we’re following at present, and he is just really not feeling this. How long have they been in space? Hours? Days? We just don’t know. Time has no meaning, not in the inky void of space.

He stares out onto the distant, beautiful orb that is Cybertron, and notices the big honkin’ rocket thrusters the Decepticons strapped to the back of it in Polyhex. That’s going to have to be fixed, if they ever get out of this.

The Celestial explodes in the distance. Okay, so it’s been like five minutes.

Oh no, it better not be Ammo! We spent nearly half a page describing how hot he was, it’d be a shame to waste all that hard work!

No, actually, it’s Gridlock, who you shouldn’t really worry about, because he’s OC cannon-fodder. He was born to die, because someone had to be in this, and I’m not sure that Quark existed as a concept when this was written.

But how did he die? Turns out the Subterrainians had a feeling someone might try to “save” them, and installed some pretty effective defensive measures. Of course, the Autobots aren’t going to take the hint, because they’re about on the same level as the Care Bears in terms of helpfulness.

Of course, if this is a city of anti-war pacifists, it seems a bit off-brand to have such a devastating automated weapon. Suspicious. And that’s if the thing was even automated to begin with- when it went off, Courier went and shot it, and it’s impossible to tell just what exactly the thing was.

Over at Autobot City, Starscream’s decided to count his eggs before they hatch, leaving to confront Megatron before assuring that all the Autobots have been dealt with. He calls Soundwave to finish off the work for him, then hops on a shuttle to Castle Decepticon. This probably won’t end well for him, because when does it ever?

Back in the London Underground, the boys have found a matter-transport device. It’s a small one, and they’ll have to take turns if they want to get out of here. Trasher will go last, because he’ll be operating it, and also because he’s cannon-fodder.

He is so blatantly not on the up-and-up. Hound what the fuck are you doing trusting this guy?

The boys start queuing up in an orderly fashion and loading into the transport. As this is happening, Courier gets distracted by the sound of voices. Looks like the Decepticons finally showed up. The Autobots better hurry.

The next round of transport riders climb on, and it looks like Trasher hasn’t been paying attention, because he didn’t realize Flipside and Reargunner got offed back in the sewers. This pisses him the hell off, and he’s feeling mighty vengeful as he shunts the group through the teleport.

The next group only has three- it’s Blaster, Ammo, and Hound. Because of course Hound is going with Ammo, are you kidding? Hound says that Trasher and Courier could come with, but Courier, because he is so obviously evil, says “no thanks, we’ll catch up.”

You little shit, there aren’t any Decepticons at all, are there? You told a lie about hearing them because that’s what you are- a liar!

Hound’s group teleports, and Trasher immediately loads the next ride and books it. Ten seconds to launch.

Over on the other side of the teleport- they’ve wound up in the catacombs- Hound’s attempting to account for everyone.

Courier zaps in, alone. Apparently the Decepticons attacked the moment after Hound’s group left, killing Trasher instantly. Look, you were already suspicious when the thing with the defense system happened, just throw this guy in that one dude’s subspace and call it jail.

Oh yeah, there’s a dude whose only role seems to be having very big robot pockets. His name is Multibot, and he’s currently running around with a corpse inside him.

God, he’s just… the perfect action hero. The Terminator wants what Ammo has.

Back over at Autobot City, Soundwave’s doing what he does best- being the best, that is. He orders the Decepticon forces to him, to regroup for the final attack. They might just win this.

Or, they would if Optimus hadn’t just stepped out to get all these dang kids off his lawn.

Is this why Optimus is such a jackass in Eugenesis? Just the pendulum swinging to the other end of the spectrum as Roberts defines his understanding of these characters? Is Eugenesis Optimus Prime a commentary on the hero worship we participate in during our youth, and the impossible standards it creates as a result, thereby setting oneself up for disappointment when our heroes are revealed to be regular, fallible beings? Am I reading way too into these fanfics about giant space robots written by a teenage boy? The answer may surprise you!

Soundwave ought to know how this goes by now, but playing to canon-typical ignorance, he orders the Decepticons to focus their attack on Optimus.

Optimus has gotten used to being god-mode pretty quickly, creating a massive forcefield with a simple swing of the arm. He’s taken the time to also be outfitted with what’s probably half the Autobot Armory, and starts dishing that out in addition to his new-found powers.

Holy- and y’all wonder why the hell Cybertron went to ecological shit.

Soundwave calls for his band of idiots to head back to the pods, and they head back into orbit. Starscream didn’t let Soundwave in on his little plan to overthrow Megatron, but it’s not exactly a secret if you’re doing in on a weekly basis. Soundwave calls up his boss to give him a heads-up, sighing all the while.

Back on the surface of the planet, everyone is understandably freaked out by Optimus’ new powers.

Are you telling me that Optimus is currently more powerful than a COMSICALLY POWERED STARSCREAM? No wonder people are concerned- they’re probably expecting another toyline-based purge to happen.

Optimus is feeling pretty gung-ho about following the Decepticons, not bothering to acknowledge his soldiers’ fears about him having the power to create and destroy with a mere thought. He conjures a starship out of thin air, and the narrative lets us know that it’s autumn. Is this perhaps a Thanksgiving special? Fuck no, because that’s an American holiday, but it might just be a Halloween one with the way things are going.

Not wanting to argue with the space pope and his godlike power, the Autobots of Autobot City load up on the ship and set out for Cybertron.

Over with everyone’s favorite gremlin, Starscream’s just reentered regular space after subspacing it up, ready to face Megatron. He’s pulling around to Polyhex when he notices the clump of Autobots floating just above the atmosphere. He, while assuming they’re dead, decides to take a detour and run into them with his pod, just for the heck of it. Starscream’s a little scary.

Red Alert notices the pod coming towards them, and chalks today up as not being one of the best he’s had.

Down on Cybertron, Ravage has spotted Starscream, and promptly reports it to Megatron, who orders he be killed. Ravage complies, with more glee than could probably be deemed professional, and fires a laser up at the pod.

Starscream, being a crafty little bugger, narrowly evades this attack, then keeps going for the Autobots floating around in space. Starscream’s priorities seem a little off here, but at least he knows what he wants.

Megatron flies into a rage at this, throwing Ravage out of the chair and taking the controls for himself as he fires off another volley.

Red Alert sees this, sees Starscream still coming for them, and wonders what he could have possibly done for karma to be so cruel.

The laser misses them, and they start falling towards the surface of the planet.

I guess they were lower than I’d interpreted, if slipstreams are happening.

Megatron’s enjoying blasting Starscream out of the sky a little too much, whooping and hollering as he tears the escape pod asunder. At least someone’s having a good day.

Over with Hound and friends, everyone’s pretty bummed out about Trasher being dead. Blaster notices activity up ahead in the catacombs, giving everyone pause. No one an figure out where the sound is coming from at first.

But they figure it out. The stuffing-robots-into-vents trend is back! I was beginning to miss it.

Multibot comes into play here, revealing that his name pulls from the phrase “multi-tool” as one of his fingers flips open and out pops a laser scalpel/screwdriver. Yes, it is an odd combination, but it does the trick. He takes off the grill and Hound pokes his head in to see what all the hubbub’s about. He doesn’t like what he sees, not one bit.

But that revelation will have to wait ’til next time, because that’s the end of Book 1!

#transformers #jro #polyhex wars #book one #part four #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #prose writing

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matrixbearer · 7 years ago

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♞ ┊ ( drabble. )

❛ The Shared Weight of Loss ❜

— Rating: PG-13 — Ships: Optimus/Cade

summary:

Grief is a powerful emotion that few truly understand until they have it take hold. Unlike anger that can grow cold or fear that is overcome, grief becomes like a tumor on the soul. Optimus has had to carry so much in his life. There was once a time when the weight of it was shared by the support of his Autobot team. But, the current ones (brave and valued they may be), have never know the sheer volume Prime has taken in with each new life lost in his name. With one more on the list it grows the same, it is Cade who bears the bad news. What news could be so terrible? What loss could be so terrible? The fate of Samuel Witwicky && Mikaela Banes.

As it had come to pass the last of the Witwiccans had died but their legacy would not remain to rot. Sir Edmund Burton’s estate had quickly passed into Viviane’s possession. Though this encompassed the residents of Burton’s so-called Transformer retirement home, it also included enough worldly possessions to make the study of Viviane’s father look like a cupboard under the stairs.

Only remotely familiar with the castle, Viviane and Cade had crept into it with steps cautious for boobytraps, though they knew there was none. Cogman, whose personal familiarity surpassed Edmund’s own, had led the charge of taking inventory. They were so obsessed with cataloging the Witwiccans, to track what Transformers had come and who had gone, who they had found and who they had lost, all to piece together anything pertinent to Unicron.

What chaos their world had become; their moon cut into quarters and their skies now shared with an alien world. That world was not even less whole than they or their moon; Cybertron had fallen apart at the tectonic plates and held together by vines stringing them out of the core. Even what power Quintessa had managed to siphon from Earth was not enough to even start the process of re-generating the dead world; Optimus knew that would not be so easy.

It had never been easy—not from the start, not since he stood at the epicentre of so many battles and barred the many tribes of Cybertron from converging on each other. What Optimus had done may have looked easy to others, but it was far from so. Even so, it had been the obvious choice, natural even; not all in nature was ever easy. But his words washed over the armed audience and one by one the tribes became a unified world.

It had never been easy—through his confession to his people had so vividly etched in the minds of each attending soldiers a new world of peace and justice, none of it was easy. They fought for to reclaim the greater legacy of their empire.

And then the famine came. Energon so rare that their immune systems began to fail. Rust had never been to prevalent in their people so, now a blight so aggressive it tore through like a plague. But it was merely a side effect of the hunger they all shared, though it was never equal parts shared. From the famine came the hunt and discovery of the AllSpark. Soon to follow was Megatron’s war.

The white cliffs of Dover were particularly splendid. The tides had changed according to the alterations of the nearest heavenly bodies, and still the waves crashed over with a sound like the pulse of a sparkbeat. A moor of green so lush it collapsed deep imprints under Prime’s feet, and it was so sodden with sweet rain that not a single blade could catch fire under the blaze of his thrusters. Much like most of Earth, England was a beautiful land, with a history hardened with difficulty and enriched with accomplished grace. Now to know how deeply connected England’s ties were to Cybertron, it all made sense how the architecture looked familiar.

It would appear to be that Iacon had been much like Camelot; had their fair world been the images of Avalon?

Cade had not yet been told much of Optimus’ pas, such as his experience as an archeologist && anthropologist, or the tribal history of Cybertron. He did not know how Megatron and Optimus’ sparks were divided when once entwined; how Sentinel Prime stood as their father, and betrayed them both to one another. Few friends had been named of Optimus’ past, and those who had had only been passing. It took a sharp mind to catch one from another.

❝ Sam? Sam Witwicky? He was a friend of yours, right? ❞ Asked Cade, whose farmer tan looked ridiculous under England’s grey skies. He had to look upwards to meet Optimus’ face.

Yet again, Optimus could not help but think on how Cade had helped him, defended him, and saved his life.

Not even the English wind could entirely silence the cacophony of metal as the titan folded his frame, leaning towards his human friend, and brought his face so much closer so they were Knight to Knight.

❝ Where… did you hear that name? ❞ His question was so carefully timed that the pause felt not for his sake, but for Cade’s. Prime had that way on others, and he was aware of it do some degree. When weapons failed, words prevailed, and no one could match combat skill to linguistic skill as he could. After all, Prime was old by even Cybertronian standards, and he was arguably one of their most educated.

The old Autobot leader had a habit of diminishing his natural qualities, even to himself.

Cade did not seem to mind, as he never did, and continued on with is purpose. In his hands were a stack of papers, some mismatched off receipts and torn ledgers, while others were beautifully coordinated with the crest of Burton’s family.

❝ Well, to be honest big guy, I listened in on you and ❛Bee. I heard you mention to him, ❞ Cade was so true to human nature, looking both defiant and sheepish at his confession of invading their privacy.

Hydraulics hissed with the movement of his head, bent lower to the ground and angled towards the wind. ❝ Very well. ❞ It seemed that with two words Cade was forgiven his indiscretion, though that may have been because he had had been intrigued else wise with their dialogue. ❝ Sam was our friend—my friend, the first I made when I came to Earth. Bumblebee was his guardian. Why do you ask about— ❞ [ The boy? ] ❝ —Sam Witwicky? ❞

With just a wave of his filled hand, Cade indicated more to the contents than to papers he held onto. If Optimus had seen his friend’s face grim before, he saw it again now. A lurching noise came from the largest Autobot; the bitter taste of apprehension.

❝ I think this is the list of the Witwiccans and their allies for the last two centuries, like a roster. It goes back a long way. But… it was also pretty recent. ❞ When Optimus said nothing else, it prompted Yeager to explain himself further. ❝ It seems the Witwiccans had many different variations around the world. Some lost track of their involvement, but Burton’s family kept track of them all. ❞ Nervous now, he fingered the edge of the stack and glanced towards the jagged edges of a worn away corner.

His consciousness, so vast in its enormity and antiquity, was beyond that of any human. Time dilation through the wormhole that bridged their two worlds dictated that their comparable ages were constantly in flux, changed with each passage through the vortex. The Knights of Iacon were ancient, even by Cybertronian standards. Optimus was ancient by human standards. His thoughts moved with an entirely different set of metaphysics and yet—

This human, who possessed a true Heart of Purity, who saved his life more than once, who believed him anyone else would have traded him for a reward…

He deserved at least a little bit of Prime’s truth.

Silence for now, and Optimus knew silence well. It may have been the absence of sound, but it was not without meaning. The timing and pretext gave context to what Cade was trying to tell him, and the old robot pieced it together.

Only after he stalled his vents, tasted the steam across his dental grill, and pulled his frame back a fraction so small to him but immense for his human friend. Alas he spoke, with a voice like the edging shadow at the mouth of a cave, though not to ask but to state for the record, ❝ The Witwickys were once Witwiccans. ❞

Unlike the Autobot, Cade would not hold on much longer to answer. Immediately he blurted out, ❝ Yes, and I did find a Samuel Witwicky. ❞

❝ Hmmm…. ❞ He adjusted to half turn towards the cliffs, hummed his muted thoughts, and looked so far away that the landscape disappeared to the far reaches of the water’s edge. Cade would know that look—not because they had spent so much time together for there was never that opportunity. Instead it was because for all their differences the Transformesr and humans were not so different; everyone looked that way when deep in thought. Deep he was, so deep that Optimus fell down the void where all thoughts and memories into a morass.

Conjecture sometimes meant everything, and Optimus had to sometimes act on it. He turned towards Cade and eyed him as equals might, with one ready to comfort and the other apprehensive to confess even the need. It was Prime who had that needed after his support system had been widdled down too nothing. Nothing but this man.

❝ Sir Burton told you that he was the last of the Witwiccans. If this is true than it would mean— ❞

Both knew the meaning. Years of Texas sun and unrelenting time in the badlands had scarred Cade’s face with etchings of worry and strain. His frown was doubly visible, filled with remorse that he had not earned.

❝ Yeah, sorry big guy, Burton marked his status as KOA—killed in action, along with who must be his parents, ❞ informed the inventor, again with that great remorse. His voice was strained with pity and sorrow, none of those things Optimus wanted from others.

Not when he felt them so deeply.

Never had Prime forgotten that on this world he was a titan, and among his people of similar titans he was another titan. In comparison to their capacity for greatness (in many forms, human diminutiveness had always marveled Prime so much. He cherished how they made themselves larger than their limited stature, how they surpassed the footprints of giants that came before them. When the measure of humans like Cade’s virtues were measured in the balance, their shadows were matched.

Now he felt his spark once more into shadows. Under the weight of Cade’s news and the strength of the winds off the moor, Prime all but swayed in his crouched position; few would notice such a shift in the grandness of Optimus’ bulk.

There were moments when thought surpassed the linear curve of time; when it defied all physics and did so within the ether of sentience. It was here that Prime had fallen into, where shadows dwell and light burned sparsely. Where the burning horizon of Cybertron’s last days filled him with the stench of spilt fuel, and to the visual recordings of Ratchet’s head so crudely melted down to parts.

He could see it now, a refuse for assuage of happier memories now tainted with great loss. Many washed over at once, their digital edges pixellated into mismatched puzzle pieces. Still it ran congruent and not concurrent, with no linear sensibility to follow.

It had been his first time on Earth. He had seen worlds with vegetation, but not as the green that crawled across the larger brown, whose edges reached outwards until the greater mass of blue was met. Occasionally there were caps of white, white so bright it blinded with the reflection of the sun. This was Earth from whence he had first seen it, and that faraway first sight was no marvel in comparison to when he breached the atmosphere—ignited in flames, stars that fell from heave—and landed on this world’s soil. No time was wasted and he had taken his first human-designed alt-mode. The roads were smooth in places and rough in others, and the winding paths led him towards Bumblebee’s location—

Bumblebee! His friend had gone to Tyger Pax to buy him time— The cube sent towards the stars— ❛ Look to the stars and think of my soul— ❜

An even fog had parted and flowed over the ridges of the Peterbilt’s grill, and with a hiss he came to a full top in front of a scrawny human male and his female companion. Unwilling to introduce himself with a holoform, Optimus revealed himself to share open truth with the boy in an attempt to building friendship with honesty. This was his first transformation since arrival, and the armor was cut with such difference compared to his form on Cybertron. Everything was sharper and more angled. So he relished the transformation, drawing it out like an adagio movement slowed down to allegro. It was all to feel how it pieced together—how he pieced together. Alien though it had been it still felt good to not be in Entry Mode.

With a great roll of his neck to stretch the taunt cables and wires, Optimus had felt out the newness of this world with great excitement and hopefulness.

It had been Samuel Witwicky. A boy he needed more than any man would ever know.

His open face showed little else but the flickering of his optics, that shuttered from dim to bright, dark again, before something more medial settled in. In his reverie he had turned to look to Cade, saw a man who was more his equal and less a young friend, he confessed, ❝ He was a friend to the Autobots; our first human friend. He helped us defeat Megatron many times… ❞ In his pause was the shutter of his optical wiper blades. ❝ He was so young. ❞

Cade stepped forward with hand stretched out like anyone would to offer comfort and contact. But, they did not touch. To the point the man said, ❝ I’m sorry. ❞ What a weak attempt at comfort.

Again a crown of thorns was perhaps best served to hang atop Prime’s head, that hung with great penance. With each new loss Prime felt older, weaker, worn away until all the grace Cybertron once bestowed on him had been dwindled into human-like smallness.

He would not weep, not as man might. That had never been how Prime settled his emotions, not even in the most aberrant of grief. This was nothing new to the Autobot leader, not when he had seen Cybertron’s fall and known Megatron’s repeated treachery until the brotherhood was no more. He had lost the last of his team, the closest sparks to come near him since Megatron’s first betrayal. He had seen humanity turn their backs on him time after time, when fear beget anger worse of mankind.

No, that wretched sense of loss was kept within to leave its mark. But Cade had begun to see the signs, and this was a display of no surprise. So it was Cade that took the first step to be there in Prime’s time of dolefulness.

There was no one else.

It was with a small and gentle touch with a warmth unlike even living metal that Cade bega to break Optimus free of the attritious chains binding him in this great remorse. See, the size of a human’s hand was so tiny compared to the large plates of armor that built up the statuesque paladin.

May this mortal man never forget that He was a knighted king without crown or country.

The sound of hissing hydraulics finally broke the reverie, and Prime looked towards his friend in equality. Once more he was reminded of their sameness. For in Cade’s eyes was an understanding few could know so well; what a well of loss did to the soul, how it left it agape, and how nothing could ever meet that void.

[ The man had know his own losses well. ]

What would words could describe the bond he shared with Cade? He had ever told the Texan his worth in Prime’s eyes, not to its fullest extent, but in smaller belittled allocations.

Now was a time for confessions, and Prime said, ❝ I loved that boy dearly, more than he ever knew. ❞

Because Prime had never told him so plainly. But when he said them now Cade walked onto the big guy’s arm and crawled down the armor. He kept his balance with little grace as Optimus rotated his limb and exposed his open palm.

Cade was then crouched in it on his own. Massive metal fingers curled inward, nearly cupping the human knight against the thoracic plates felt their hottest.

Where Optimus Prime’s spark was kept shielded, Cade was loosely cupped against. Without words their shared the meaning of loss between one another. Without words they shared the meaning of love between one another.

Their company was without words.

When at least they broke their company of silence, Cade asked in curious sharpness, ❝ Hey, who is ‘ Banes, Mikaela ’ ? Because she’s the only one marked with a status of unknown. So, she could be alive! ❞

May the stars above see once more how bright his spark could burn, now he felt joy at last with hope in little moments of enormity; Optimus smiled gently, more so in the twinkle of his optics than anything else.

Mikaela Banes may be alive.

Writer’s note: I started to punch this out after my second time watching TLK and while I was talking to @untamedheart & @yeagerxrobotics / @robotxwrangler individually. I kind of tossed it to the side and then some discussions with @mechanicmikaela pumped me back up because it all ties into my headcanons that Mikaela is on the run, alive, and with the knowledge that Sam is dead Optimus would be overtaken with a more grateful sense of relief. Then there is the comparison to how Optimus feels paternal to Sam & Mikaela, there is how he feels equal to Cade.

#optimus prime #transformers 5 #transformers bayverse #mikaela banes #transformers tlk #— ♞ ┊ ( drabble. )#— ♞ ┊ ( ❛ TYRAN ❜ ) 「 ⋅ 」;;

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