Charr: The city Deadend
"... and if you try to cross us one more time..." the tall Cybertronian threatened the creature that stood in front of him... a particularly thick creature from the looks of it...
You stared down at the dimly lit table below you. Your careful perch on the rafters of the old wharehouse was the perfect spot to watch the action... not to mention record it.
*Prisma, have they made the exchange yet?* crackles your comm unit. You had it set to receive digitized sound only, so no noise escaped to give you away.
"No. I would tell you if they had. Now keep the channel clear."
You cut the connection.
"...look, I told you. It wasn't me!" the thick tusked alien grunted. His face is almost boar-like, with small, beady eyes set back in his armored skull. he rocked uneasily on thick, elephant-like legs, "They must have had a plant in your operation!"
--or a cat in your rafters...--
You inch over, tuning your scanners gently to avoid detection.
The Cybertronian, a large blue and white bot, was named Axer. This was the chance the Police force had been looking for for months. You agreed to work with them in the chance that you might get the funds to hire an off-world ship to get your tail back to Cybertron...
--Cybertron...--
No, you push the bitter though out of your circuits... there was more important work right now.
Axer leaned over the table and grabbed the creature by a tusk, "My organization is not to be questioned by the likes of you."
"Ok! ok!! I've got your slaggin' data disk! Look! Here!" you see the tusked warrior reach in and pull a small, clear circle from his vest On it's surface you can make out the faint holo-writing.
"That's a confirmation on the disk! I'm outta here..." you transmitted silently.
*Ok, let us know when you're clear, then we'll send in the heavy guns.*
You turn toward your getaway point, stepping gingerly across the pieces of scrap that littered the dingy rafters.
Then you freeze...
Ahead of you sat a local creature... a kind of housepet, not much different from the 'housecat' beast mode you were in now.
'Not much different' if you didn't count the creatures total lack of grace and innate stupidity.
Breathlessly you hold still in the hopes that it would turn back and head back away through the fan vent. It looked around, unaware of your presence, and decided to walk out...
Knocking over several pieces of scrap metal that dropped sickeningly down toward the floor below.
--Pit.--
You flatten, making yourself invisible from below.
At the ringing noise of the scrap hitting the floor, Axer spun, weapon in hand, toward the rafters. That you could handle, as long as he didn't actually shoot, but then there was the unmistakable sound of another gun being pulled. And you could bet you knew whose it was.
You chanced a quick glance to confirm. Sure enough, the other alien was drawing his weapon on Axer.
--Oh Pit... don't do that...--
Axer was no fool, nor was he someone to trifle with, he heard what you heard, and in a flash he had shifted positions, bringing his shielded arm around to block the aliens' blast.
The alien realized his mistake and made to turn, but it was too late. Axer's shots rang out, incinerating large pieces of his torso.
*Prisma! What's going on!!*
"Not... now!!" you gasp, turning again toward the vent, the cat-creature had left...
Your audio receptors pick up a quiet noise...
A ticking beep...
A bomb!
You spin to see Axer grabbing the disk, and dropping a detonator on the ground.
"Pointblank!" you sputter into the comm, "Don't send anyone in...he dropped an incinerator!!"
*Prisma! Get that disk!*
--Pittpittpittpittpittpitt...--
Axer was already out the door, heading for the roof. If he made it there, he... and the disk... were history.
You transform, landing and snagging the small, but deadly incinerator from the ground.
--I gotta be nuts!--
You bolt for the stairway, using every ounce of speed you had. In the same moment, you were popping open the detonator's access panel, pulling out a couple of small chips...
Ahead you see the robot almost at the top of the building, opening the door to the outside world.
"Hey, AXER!" you yell, causing the Destron to spin around.
He still held the disk.
--There is a Primus!--
You jump as he fired.
His shots, expecting a large taget, go past you as you vault onto his arm, snagging the disk and dropping the detonator, "I think you dropped something!" you push off just as his hand closes over the bomb.
You let the ensuing explosion catapult you through the open doorway and out onto the rooftop.
You transform to cat mode, smoke whisps trailing off your Transmetal body, and skid to a clattering halt on metal surface.
Then roof rumbled, and began to collapse.
With a clarity of mind you bolted toward the edge.
If you stayed you were slag. No way were you surviving the collapse of a building. Of course, the fall wouldn't do much good either, but at least you might stay active...
You closed your eyes and jumped...
There was segments of oilpan sickening freefall as the wind whistled through your metallic whiskers.
Then you felt a hand close over your scruff, "Need a ride kitty?"
You squirmed, "Don't call me kitty... and thanks Sandstorm."
He transformed to his own alternate mode, that of green and brown attack helicopter, and hoisted you into his cockpit. You settled down and considered what you would do next as you stared out the windows at the planet below, it was a hot world, covered with industrial machinery and factories, thick pipes and conduits covering every inch of the surface, the living areas like this city were below ground, in immense, artificially made caverns. You could see the distant ceilings far above you through the dusty air. Even below ground, the heat was unbearable, but somehow, this had become the scum central for all the universe. Every race's trash came here to deal, steal, and kill... It was a far cry from the smooth streets and crystal clear skies of Cybertron...
--Cybertron...--
Sadness fills you as you think of your homeland. A few months ago, you'd be filled with the prospect of hitching a ride off of this hot, dusty, dirty world.
But now...
Cybertron was off limits.
It started a few month ago. Vague reports of out of the way outposts being demolished by some uknown force. From what you've heard, the Cybertronian fleet scattered out, trying to spread protection where it could.
Then horror struck.
The planet came under complete siege, no incoming or outgoing traffic has been allowed for weeks.
It was still vague who exactly attacked. No real clear reports have returned, at least none that you trusted.
Everyone seemed to think it was some group calling themselves the Decepticons.
--Why you'd want to use the name of a technological throwback...--
You stifled a addened sigh. One thing was sure, you weren't likely to get a ride home any time soon...
"A whole building?! You HAD to detonate a WHOLE building?" Pointblank crossed his arms.
"Look, I got your disk, I'd rather the building detonated than my hide!"
The large red and blue ancient Cybertron grimaced... he had been in a bad mood for weeks, ever since Roadbuster up and left him in charge.
Sandstorm shrugged, "It was an old scrap pile at any rate. Look at it this way, we got the disk, the codes, and... we got Axer!" his eyes glinted with mischief.
Pointblank sighed, "You're right. We do owe you Prisma, but I'm still deducting costs of building repair from it.
"What?! That wasn't part of the deal!"
"Neither was blowing the top off of a district one wharehouse. The maintenance crews were working for megacycles cleaning the road!"
You snorted, "Looks like I wouldn't be going anywhere even I could find a ship..."
Pointblank and Sandstorm exchanged glances....
"Well... there is a job that could get you your ticket off this rock..." Pointblank started.
You grimaced, it was a setup. They had planned for you to do another job all along...
"What."
"Well, as you know, we think that Axer is only part of a much, much larger organizatino."
"Yeah."
"We also now believe that this organization has brought in a new guy to cart them offplanet..."
"So? If they leave it's out of your jurisdiction... it's not your problem."
"Well, it may be everyone's problem. We think they may be heading back toward Cybertron, maybe to help the Decepticons out."
"The Decepticons?! Don't tell me you believe that too!!"
"Look, I don't know what to believe, but Roadbuster went after Backdraft, who disappeared after reporting that a 'Decepticon' meeting had taken place here, on Char."
"So... how do I come in..."
"Well, we've repaired Axer, and he doesn't 'claim' to know anything about all this, but he did agree to help us find out about it."
"What? You think he's just going to turn over the others just like that?!"
"No. That's why we rigged him with explosives, and to make sure he doesn't try anything risky, we want to send an operative with him, to 'join' his group."
You just sit there staring at Pointblank.
"C'mon Prisma, it's right up your alley!"
"So, you want me to pose Pred, get onboard a ship, and find out where they are going?"
"Look, all I'm asking is that you consider it... give me an answer in the morning. For now, go get a recharge... and a bath, you smell like burnt cat-hair."
You loped across the rooftops, heading for a much needed rest.
First, however, you found a suitably high building, and sat down for a bit of a though session.
You sat on the edge of the building, letting the hot air blow past you in swirls of dusty, red heat.
--Play Pred...--
It wasn't a pleasing thought.
--But to go home.--
The acrid smell that tainted this planet singed your nostrils, and you could feel the dirty grit in every joint. This was not a place to waste away your lives in...
But this assignment may turn out to be the most dangerous of your short career as an espionage agent.
Then again.... the chance to go home... to see velvety night skies, smell the cool, crisp air of your homeworld, to run along the neon roadways...
You settle yourself. After all, too much hope is just as dangerous as too much fear.
--Hope clouds observation.--
You turn away from the arid overhang and head to your recharge station, still unsure of what your answer to Pointblank would be tomorrow...
Charr:
Deadend
The next morning found you sitting on Pointblank's desk, impatiently swinging your metallic tail.
"Do you mind?" The large red and blue Cybertron frowns as he moves a control component out of your way.
"No." you snap testily. You still didn't like this, but you wanted off this dustball, and this looked like your best way to do it.
1.4.8.1.2 :: When it is difficult to find a star in the sky, you must find other stars that are brighter and easier to find. They will eventually guide you to the desired star. This illustrates that for every impossible situation, there are possible opportunities that will guide you thru your path. But never forget that it is also possible that some stars are so bright that they will blind you away from your path. -- Quiet Storm: Prisma Nova's personal journals
This place was dirty, depressing, and it would be the end of you if you stayed. You looked around the offices' dirty walls and scrap piles...
The door to the back cells slid opened, and Sandstorm ushered out the Destron.
Axer had been patched up pretty well, and from his chest blinked the lights of a restraining bolt.
His eyes flashed angrily as Sandstorm pushed him down firmly into a chair.
Your head snapped to Pointblank, "We can't trust him."
"You forget, you'll have the button to his life."
You look back, and see that Axer had focused his ire at you.
Shivering, "But I can sneak in on my own.. I've done it before. I'll just sneak on board whatever ship..."
"It's not that easy. There's a new Predacon in town that I have reason to believe they may have already contacted. With him he brings a bio-organic ship of some kind."
"Bio-organic?"
Pointblank nods and Sandstorm dims the light, a planning table in the middle of the room lights up, showing a holo-vid above it of a bestial ship lowering through Char's atmosphere. It had long tentacles that stretched out in front of it's armored squidlike body.
You looked over at Axer to see his eyes flash in as much surprise as you feel.
The screen altered and a three dimensional vision of a Predacon appeared. He was monstrous in and of himself.
"This is Phalanx, the ships owner."
The picture rotated, showing the overlapping plates of metal, scale, and bone that made the steel colored Predacon. Half of his face was a skull, and steam seemed to seep from every joint on his mutated body.
"He is some kind of Transmetal, from what we can figure, but unlike the typical body format that we've seen here and there."
Axer interrupted, "Why do you think he has contacted my people?"
Pointblank sneered, "We have our own agents here and there... We believe that he has spoken with a local sharpshooter, Treadshot?"
Axer's head snapped back to the vid.
You shook your head, "So let me go there... let me find out..."
"No, like I said, it's biomorphic. It will have systems to scan it's interior that we can't fool... there's just too much danger for that kind of covert operation. The best way is for you to become Predacon..."
1.4.8.1.1:: A crystal is pure and without color. However, if we place that crystal next to a colored object, it will reflect that color...
"So be it. Then I will learn their ways, but if I am to be a Predacon, wouldn't it be easier for us to perhaps show up and betray them? Steal there ship?"
Axer snort, "Foolish child, that ship will no doubt be fully loyal to it's Captain. Such an object is not so easily 'stolen.'"
You narrow your eyes at him, "Watch it Destron, or you'll find this 'child' to be the end of your spark."
He glowered but sank back into sullen silence.
You nodded, "The so be it." You grimace, steeling yourself for the next step.
"Computer... Shutdown and reformat activation codes."
--Code signature requested?--
...My mind must become that crystal, reflecting all that I see and touch. Perception should not be a static experience, but rather a dynamic reaction.. -- Quiet Storms
"Predacon."
The room dims for a segment, then brightens back up. With a chill you feel the Predacon programs activated within your own system. It still did not have the voracity that it would if you had not had a Maximal freewill chip within you... it wasn't extreme... just simple commands being replaced with Predacon instead of Maximal...
"Prisma Nova, Terrorize!!"
You transform with a leap, landing lightly on the ground, "If this is to work, then it starts here. Wish me luck Pointblank.. and it was nice workin' with ya Sandstorm."
Something slid from your hand with a tapping clang on the floor as you lept up onto axer, snapping off his restraining bolt. There was a flash and minor explosion, filling the room with sparks and shrapnel as your grenade went off.
"Ok... Destron, Transform and get us outta here!"
Axer lept forward and shifted into a sleek attack motorcycle. You slid into the armored canopy as his guns blazed at the side wall, tearing it open with a shattering explosion. You felt the sing of fire as Sandstorm recovered and launched a tight blast of napalm at Axer, but already youwere both out the door and careening down the side alley.
You hear a chuckle from the Destron, "Be careful Predacon, or you may grow to like the very monsters you once opposed..."
You shiver, not from his proclamation, but from the well of feelings that swirled around you as the short but succinct escape from the Police headquarters had succeeded.
The charge of battle, the smell of smoke and mech fluid...
The feeling had been exhilerating...
1.4.8.1.5 We tend to live our entire existence inside a labyrinth. And if we succeed on escaping this, we would surely create another one for ourselves. Our minds cannot be completely at peace. full steadiness is a terrifying experience.--Quiet Storms.
Charr:
The City Deadend
1.4.8.2.1 :: What do you despise? By this are you truly known.
Most of the day was composed of following Axer around as he checked his 'sources' for information.
It turned out that you and he would have to meet with one of the others in his organization, asap.
The abandoned warehouse you met in was choked with thick, red dust and smog. It was nestled within one of the heaviest industrial areas of the underground city. Despite the noisy ventilation systems, the coppery red dust hung thickly in the air. It clung to everything, it's thickness even muting normal sounds! To make matters worse, you were pretty sure that it was wrecking your sensor equipment, you couldn't get a scan of anything five meters in front of your nose!
The toxicity levels here would keep any bio-based life from traveling here. You could even feel the synthe-flesh on your body reacting badly to the pollution.
"Why are we here?" you snap at Axer.
"There is no safer place of critical information to be handed from one bot to another. Don't tell me that a little red dust is any worse than the hairballs you must produce..."
"Watch it.." you started, but were interrupted as a voice whispered from the clinging shadows of the warehouse, "Who is she?"
"A Predacon, she enabled me to escape from Pointblank's slag-bots." Axer stated in an even voice.
"Why is she here."
"She asked for a payment for her service, she wants off this planet and thinks we can supply her with the ship to do it."
From the smoky surroundings steps a black and purple robot, his voice was a sibilant whisper still, "Kill her."
Axer's hand shot up as the robot pulled a long bladed weapon from his side, "No."
You were getting really nervous...
"She carries something we don't want harmed..."
--I am?--
The other robot held his weapon at the ready, it's gleaming blade etched in a corona of red dust, "What?"
"She also pulled the datacrystal from Pointblank's hands before he could find what's on it."
--I did?--
"Is this true, Predacon?" the other Destron asked.
"I did! I mean, I have it. I don't want to keep it, but I want a ride home! I think you guys might be able to supply that for me. In return... I give you my word that I'll act as a loyal crewmember to the best of my Predacon abilities."
"Small assurance. Your kind bears no honor."
"Hey! You're one to talk, Destron's were the forbearers of the Decept-icons!!"
The other bot considered this for a segment, "Very well, we're to meet in one megacycle at these coordinates..."
Those coordinates proved to be a garage-hanger rental not far from Cybertronian police headquarters.
To your surprise, Axer even handed you the data crystal he had spoken of, along with an admonition to make sure that nothing happened to it.
There you met with others, a red Destron, introduced as Calcar, the black and purple, who turned out to be called Banzai-Tron, a red and white bot named Airwave, and a blue and yellow jet bot named Afterburner.
Calcar seemed to immediately be in control, "I have checked you out Predacon, and found a rather impressive list of crimes you've performed offworld... but how did you get stranded here?"
"It's not so much that I'm stranded here, I just can't seem to get to Cybertron."
"And you think that we can get you there?"
You nod, "I think you might.... I searched in Pontblank's records and found a lot of interest in your group, especially in reference to a possible link to someone new? A fellow Predacon?"
Calcar grimace, "Then Pointblank is closer on our tail than I had thought. Very well. You will be allowed to accompany us for the time being. But one wrong move and you are dead."
You shrug, "Such is the life of a Predacon."
The group quickly entered the garage through a side door, apparently the area had been solidly swept clear before the meeting time.
You transformed to cat mode and perched on Axer's shoulder, much to his discontent.
In the dusty dark interior of the hangar, you had the immediate impression of something massive before you... something alive.
A shimmer of movement in the darkness was the first thing you saw as the door slid shut behind you, allowing your cat eyes to rapidly adjust.
In the center of the hangar was a massive, giant squid... for lack of a better definition. It was covered in thick, bony plates that overlapped and gave it a very prehistoric look. Along it's sides were small 'bumps' that glowed softly in the hazy atmosphere. You saw it's underbelly heave, as if breathing.
"What the Pitt is that?!" you whisper, noting that you weren't the only one that felt uneasy in the presence of the massive entity.
--I am Nimrod--
The deep voice rang inside your head.
"Nimrod," Calcar spoke, "Tell Phalanx that we have arrived."
--He comes.--
You see a hazy shape fly out of the beasts undercarriage, it appeared to be a dragon form of some kind, with long sharp, wings made of multiple blades. But it was difficult to make out detail, as he was covered in a perpetual mist. The creature transformed, landing, and showing himself to be a Predacon.
The head... or rather the skull of the dragon mode was on his chest, his legs were recurved, and made with overlapping plates of metal, as well as thick, flesh based scales. You would say that he was Transmetal, but his form was far more mutated than yours!
"You
said there would be six of you." two eyes locked on you from a head
that was half Cyber-skull, and half bone-skull, a very reptilian head.
Calcar
looked annoyed, "Yes, but in the process of acquiring our 'key,' our
good friend Axer was captured, and then freed by this Predacon." He
motions you, "These others are Axer," your blue and white shoulder
perch, "Banzai Tron," the black and purple, "Airwave,"
the red and white, "and Afterburner." the jet, "The cat's name
is apparently Prisma Nova, and she wants to go with us."
"You don't know her, then kill her." The Predacon Phalanx begins to
turn away.
"Wait!" you interrupt...
1.4.8.2.5 In a dilemma, it is usually helpful
to introduce any variable, then to re-examine the problem. it is
as introducing some kind of new dynamic in inertia.
"You can't... I've got the codes you need... consider it my...
application to your little group of friends."
You smile your best wicked Predacon smile.
Phalanx looks perturbed, "Have you checked her background."
"Of course. It was fairly turbulent, but she's relatively new to the
planet." Calcar replies.
"Since she wasn't part of the original plan, if I notice her doing
anything suspicious she will be ejected from the ship." He turns and
moves into the bay of the ship.
You feel a slight chill as the group moves after him. Underneath there
was an open maw. It was dry, and lined with the modules of light, which
often resembled clusters of bubbles on the sidewalls of the organic ship.
The floors and ceilings were solid, and firm. The light shifted
constantly, altering it's colors and hues, and sending shadows bounding
about. More than once, you had the uneasy feeling of something
moving, just beyond your range of vision... or perhaps your range of awareness.
You were taken through the hallways, past floating orbs that moved through
the air, on some predetermined mission, perhaps of biological nature... past
sections that were covered with tentacles and feathery feelers, that reached
away as you approached... past side tunnels that sloped alarmingly off, with
the sounds of running water echoing from somewhere in the shadows.
All the while, somewhere in the back of your mind, you felt a soft chanting, or
singing... some kind of strange music that seemed to float through the air.
This place was alien, in every sense of the word. You felt like a
stranger, embarking on a voyage of discovery. Part of you was scared. Yet
some new part thrilled in it, it felt like this was a 'hunt'
and you was ready to find out more.
1.4.8.2.4 Ultimately, all things are known
because you want to believe you know.
You were shown a small, clean room. No adornments lay about, but rather
just a small palette for sleeping, and a standard computer module. It was
very incongruous with the rest of the ship.
Phalanx warned against too much wandering, but did not say it was out of the
question, "But you may wish to be careful, Nimrod will show you if you are
somewhere you do not belong." he smiled with a fang filled grin.
And so you settled down. Awaiting the journey...
Nimrod
You quickly get bored in your room. Finding what appears to be a com unit, you activate it, "Captain Phalanx... I was wondering if you could fill me in on exactly what was going on back home?"
The comlink blinked for a second before an answer came through, "I don't really have the time for a school lesson, but if all of you would care to step outside the door, you will find an orb there to lead you to the bridge. We will be dropping out of hyperspace momentarily."
You hear Calcar's voice over the line, "Out of hyperspace?! That's nearly impossible! Char might not be far... but it's not that close the trip should take a megacycle by the fastest drive!"
"Then I suppose I have found a drive system that is faster than what your databanks have recorded. Now, if you will step outside."
You did so, seeing the others there as well. You make your way down the hallways to where a nondescript door sat. As the door slid aside, you saw a fairly standard, though very organic looking control room, complete with a commander's chair in the center where Phalanx sat sprawled out as he watched through the massive windows before him. Space outside was blurry, and effect of the drive engines no doubt.
"Enter." Phalanx spoke briefly.
"So, this is where you control this beast from..." Axer started.
"I don't have time for the obvious. Prisma Nova asked a question, and I thought it might be wise if we all discussed the situation openly.
A hologram appeared in the center of the room, though you saw no obvious projector. It was a very detailed presentation of Cybertron!
"Here is out home planet. Orbiting it is a battle station called the Warworld."
A fairly large blip appeared, the size of a small moon. It grew quickly as the hologram zoomed in on it. You could make out the details very well. Including a hood ornament that was best forgotten.
"Is that..." starts Airwave, but he was interrupted as Phalanx continued.
"That is the horn of Unicron on it's brow. Needless to say, even if this horn is not supplying the ship with power, the Warworld is a force to be reckoned with. One that we care not tangle with."
Calcar nodded, "Which is why the codes that you... Prisma and Axer.... supplied are so important. They contain the codes to the defense net surrounding Cybertron."
Phalanx nodded, the Warworld returning to small moon size, and a network of gun implants appearing in orbit around the planet. Moving among them were several larger warships, "We still need worry about these ships spotting us. They are part of what the Decepticons have held as their 'Armada.' Once dropping out of hyperspace, it will take us fifteen cycles to implement all the control sequences that I have preprogrammed into Nimrod. During that time, we will also need to know, accurately, where all the surrounding ships are located."
"What about the surface of Cybertron?" you press.
"The surface is relatively peaceful. The people have returned to their normal lives... minus any intersteller shipping trades. There is however a 'Police Force' that we may find ourselves at odds with. I will set us down away from Cybertropolis, which is where they are primarily located."
"Peaceful!? Even when they have just been conquered?"
"They were not the target of the Warworld." Phalanx grins, "As a Predacon, surely you realize that the conquered quickly become the purring cat... turning their belly up in friendship in the hopes that their captors will extend the hand of friendship instead of the claw of destruction."
1.4.8.3.1:: War is merely the method most used to return a society to a state of servitude, with the near complete willingness of the entire population. It is a period of public re-education and culling, which allows each Renaissance to re-establish the old pecking order anew without the inherent problems that always arise during peace time - public education. It has so many benefits that it can be used for small scale re-education as well, because it gains support from a population almost immediately and almost unquestioningly. War maintains the illusion that governments and religions hate each other and are thus unique and different. War is the oldest formulae for the redistribution of wealth back to the top and has been used unchanged since millenia.
You nod, "Then what?"
Calcar finishes, "Then we contact our operatives within the city and re-establish our networks. You... well, that is still to be decided. We offered you a ride home, no more."
You grimace at the connotations.
Phalanx nods, "We are dropping out of hyperspace now."
You and the others turn to the outside windows. Rapidly, the hologram shifts.
Nimrod was some distance away, and inside an asteroid field, presumably to hide your presence. From here, you could see Cybertron as a faint, silvery glimmmer in the distance. The hologram however showed much more.
No longer was the Warworld and a few Decepticon ships the only thin in Cybertron space.
The whole of the Cybertronian Fleet had apparently just shown up...
Phalanx impassively looks at the hologram, "This may change things.."
1.4.8.3.2:: What makes us impossible to predict is the very nature of our variance....
End of NWNG: General Statement