|
|
Heffer was laughing. He didn't mean to, of course. Afterall, this was probly a life or death battle. But of all the weapons that could have been chosen for the battle.... Heffer: "So explain to me again why that 'con is using kitchen appliances to fight him with?" Washout: "I told you, I don't know. I wish I did." Washout looked down at the Disk; the one that the Leader had given them. With it, he was supposed to slay Defensis Prime. However, when they'd arrived, a battle was already in progress. Heffer: "You know, I feel kinda sorry for the blue and red one." Washout: "Why is that?" Heffer: "Well, as much damage as he's doin' to the other guy, he's takin' more. And slowin' down in the process." Heffer was correct. As the battle progressed, Defensis *did* seem to be losing ground. That shouldn't be possible; given the standard foot soldier chassis of his opponent, and the fact that Defensis was equipped with one of the stronger G1 frames, this battle should be easy for him. But it wasn't, and Washout had to wonder why. Washout: "Heffer, I think maybe we're here for another reason."
Spot couldn't imagine that he was here for this reason. The creature, if he could be called that, hulked above them. A veritable pile of Scrapmetal, the beast howled its defiance to whatever Pitt his creator spawned him from. Sporting hodgepodge materials from a variety of sources, it was difficult to tell what the inner creature looked like originally. Spot: "What in Primus is *that* thing?" Burning Furry Monkey: "I don't believe Primus had anything to do with its creation." Spot lifted his fireball cannon and fired. He blew a chunk of the creatures outer hide away, but revealed little in the process. The creature focused a tail-weapon of some sort, and fired back, missing them both by several feet. Spot: "Not very bright, is it?" BFM: "So far, no, though I have a feeling that will change over time. There's also another problem; my scans indicate that the Transformer *I'm* looking for is somewhere *in* that monstrocity. Problem is, I can't lock on." Spot: "Why not?" BFM: "There's some kind of interference. Almost if...almost of the creature isn't totally there." Spot: "This day just keeps getting better and better.
Flatfoot hoped he made it in time. The warpgate had faded behind him; the sights of Cybertyron faded as Earth materialised around him. The trip had been planned quickly; after reporting in to Electrum Beast on his suspicions regarding Washout, Flatfoot was assigned to pursue and aprehend by any means necessary. Flatfoot stuck to the letter of the law, and it showed in the spit and polish of his pursuit. After arriving on Earth, Flatfoot transformed, his police car mode attracting much less attention that robot mode. Oh, how glad he was to be rid of his beastform; though it had saved his life previously, he hated being covered in techno-organic syntheflesh; the positives of such a changeform were heavily outweighed by his revulsion to organics of any kind. No, better to have a metal (preferably vehicular) changeform such as this. As Flatfoot cruised the highway, tracking his quarry, he caught a blip on the scanner; The trail was still fresh with his quarry's energon signature. Washout and Heffer would soon be within his sights.
Spot understood. Though they started out for different reasons, their missions seemed to coincide for the moment. Spot obviously needed to take down this creature, and BFM had to rescue his comrade. Simple, really. Spot: "So I was sent to this inhospitable place for a mission that I know nothing about, by a person I've never met. You are here to rescue one of our comrades. It can't be a coincidence. Obviously, I'm here to help. But what I can't understand is why?" Spot pointed his fireball cannons and fired again, this time raking the armor of the creature in another area. It bellowed, but didn't charge their position or return fire. BFM: "Mysteries such as yours run deep. You believe you were sent here to stop this creature. You were referred to as the Last Autobot. Any idea in what context? I ask because, as you know, there are many Autobots still running around in this universe." Spot: "I wish I knew. My memories have always been fuzzy... and contradictory. I remember being part of a combiner team. I also remember dying at my own hands because of a human. And then... and then there was more recently, when I thought I'd taken out another enemy, and lost my life in the process. Somehow, that death wasn't permanent either. Here I am, on yet another mission, probably life-threatening, and I don't know why, or what the point of this even is!" Spot threw down his fireball cannons in despair. The creature, perhaps sensing an opening, shot out a sticky tangleweb, grabbing the cannons off the ground, and sucking them into itself before anyone could react. Spot: "Hey!" BFM: "I was afraid of that. It probably thinks its neutralised your offensive capabilities. It will now likely move in for the kill." Spot: "The hell it will!" Accessing his online weapons database, Spot scrolled thru the list of other options he had available(since he foolishly let his guns be snatched). Interestingly, this rebuilt chassis had some of his favorites from a previous mission. Spot: "Let's see how he likes this one: Blizzard Bazzooka!" Spot transformed; his ladder-cannons deployed, he fired a screaming cold blast of hypercooled air and water molecules at one of the support struts of the enemy. It screached as several of its legs froze up completely, unable to scuttle away. Spot transformed back into robot mode, and gestured to Burning Furry Monkey. Spot: "I believe that should hold him momentarily Would you like to take a turn?" BFM: "Why thank you, that's very thoughtful. ApeScream!!!" Burning Furry monkey unhinged his beast-jaw and emitted a high-frequency screech, aiming at the frozen leg closest to him. The ice cracked, then shattered, taking a chunk of the leg along with it. The creature was damaged; unable to scuttle away, it began taking potshots at the source of the pain. This time, the shots were much more accurate, hitting Burning Furry Monkey in the chest, knocking him down. Spot: "BFM! Are you all-right?" BFM: "Ugh. I've been better. The damage is minimal, but he was able to lock into me rather quickly, don't you think?. Oh-oh... sensors reading a massive tempurature spike!" The creature shunted power to its exterior changeform, melting away the rest of the ice that was holding it. Free, and angered, it began to charge straight at them. Spot: (transforming to vehicle mode) "Hop on! If we can get out of this underbrush, we can head for safety! I see some buldings barely a klick behind us!" BFM limped over to the fire engine and grabbed hold. Spot squealed his tires, taking off at a high rate of speed, just missing another volley of shots being taken by the creature. Though slowed by the damage, the creature pade pursuit. The chase was on.
Cybertron. The meeting was not going well. Electrum Beast had hoped to fufill his secret mission and be done with it. Access to the Hall of Records should not be any kind of problem. His research led him to believe that his part of the Stormsword would be in there. But instead of simply waltzing in and retrieving it, he was dealing with yet another mindless Bureaucrat. Ass-09: "So let me see if I understand this clearly; you wish to access the hall of records in order to retrieve a piece of your research?" Electrum Beast: "That is correct." He accesseed his online library of human media programs, looking for a vocoder match to the being in front of him. If he wasn't mistaken, this fellow was mimicking a fleshling from a show called 'Gilligan's Island". He shouldn't even know this; but it never failed that one of the nested displays in Clutterbugs room was switched to one of the old earther programs. It apparently made her feel like she was more at home here on Cybertron. A shame she'd run off; Electrum Beast didn't know how to turn off any of her devices, and the programming distracted him in his lab. Still, it ment the being in-front of him was a fellow organic-lover, and that should certainly speed along his.... Ass-09: "I see. Well now, I'm all about helping my fellow bot, but ever since the vehicon infestation, access to the Hall has been by Council approval only." Sigh. So it was going to be that way. Well, Electrum Beast was nothing if not prepared for this sort of thing. Electrum Beast: "Yes, I understand that. And if you look at my credentials, not only am I an adjunct member of the Council via the science corps, I also have my writ cross-signed by a member of the Convoy Council itself." Ass-09: (checks credentials again) "Yes, I see, by a *junior* member designated Bunny Convoy. I believe in terms of command structure, you actually outrank him, yes?" Electrum Beast: "Yes, I suppose that's technically true, but..." Ass-09: "Well, no buts. Access is restricted during the rebuild. If I let you in, I'd have to let everybody in. And I'm not about to do that. These records are for our children's future. Cybertron has been teetering on the edge of ecological collapse ever since the Transformers returned home, and its our job to see that nothing else happens." Electrum Beast: "Don't you have a tree to hug somewheres?" Ass-09: "I beg your pardon?" Electrum Beast: "Nothing. I was just thinking that you sport a beast changeform. If you'll notice, so do I. That being the case, how about helping out a, er, 'brother in the cause'? If I don't get in there, I can't save our fellow beastformers, or the enviornment we were built to naturally co-habitate in. In-poiunt of fact, I've been meaning to add someone to my research team. Are you interested? We'd be saving the universe." Ass-09: "Well why didn't you say so? Come in my boy, come in!" Ass-09 punched in his security code. The door opened, and Electrum Beast followed him into the main foyer of the Hall of Records. Though in the midst of being repaired, the statue of Cybertron's greatest Leader, Optimus Prime, still showed some damage; this was done to it by the vehicon 'tank' drones that had stormed the area years prior. A sad reminder of an even sadder time. The records were not gone. Though seemingly erased, Megatron had not expunged the backups, nor did he format over the central core. He merely wiped the main database. With time, scholars would have the Transformers history and accomplishments recompiled and available to every Cybertonain once again. Until that time, however.... The beep of his scanner broke Electrum Beast out of his reverie. They had traversed deep into the Hall; his scanners indicated that he was very nearly on-top of his prize. Looking around the room, he noticed Ass-09 looking at an oddly-shaped hexagonal plaque hanging on the wall. The composition didn't seem to fit the period of the other artifacts in the room. Electrum Beast ran his scanner over it, and it beeped in confirmation; this was in-fact part of the Stormsword. So why was it currently in this odd form? Taking it down off the wall, Electrum Beast read the inscription on the plaque: "I predict Victory."
He hoped it was right. |
|
|