Time Traveller's Veritable Variety

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Time Traveller's Veritable Variety

Post by Time Traveller »

And finally, the debut, in crap sketch form: the Ætherspite, with the Nighteye in tow.
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Last edited by Time Traveller on Sun Aug 16, 2009 11:41 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Cliffjumper
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Post by Cliffjumper »

Looks great TT :D
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Post by Rumble »

Looking good TT!

Rumble.
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Post by Octane »

excellence! very intimidating. :) do another! I'd like to see more sketches like this.
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Conformers--Absolutely Nothing More Than Meets The Eye!

Giant robot stuff here: http://venomianbane-giantrobots.blogspot.com/
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Post by Minerva »

Looks good! :D
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Post by Sixshot »

It's great, TT! It's always nice to get a visual, so we can better use our imagination in the RPG, :wink:
- "Life is worth living only as long as there are enemies worth destroying!"
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Post by Time Traveller »

good thing you haven't seen it yet in the RPG ;)
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Post by Sixshot »

:lol: ! No, I won't cheat! This gives us a chance for all the new members to get acquainted and for everyone else to flesh-out their characters, :wink:
- "Life is worth living only as long as there are enemies worth destroying!"
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Post by Time Traveller »

BTW, props on fleshing out sixshot a bit! maybe he's realized which side he SHOULD be on? :wink:
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Post by Sixshot »

Thanks, TT, :D :!:

Yeah, may be, :wink: :?: :!:
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Post by Time Traveller »

Holy crap, Cambreaker looks like something in robot mode!

http://dumarion.deviantart.com/art/Camb ... -133661564
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Post by swift »

bout time I know what the damn ship looks like :p

Cam looks badass in robot mode btw ;)
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Post by Time Traveller »

You've never seen that 'spite pic? sigh. I suppose i should put IT on dA as well...

Also, I still gotta scan in the completed Cam pic, and his military mode!
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Post by Time Traveller »

HOLY CRAP

TT WROTE STUFF FOR THE FIRST TIEM IN YEARS


READS IT PLZ. TELLS ME WUT YOU THINKZ.

Prologue
Bombs

Closing ceremony of sessions, Council of Elders Senate chambers, Iacon, Cybertron. Bombs shatter the domed roof of the amphitheater, showering death and shrapnel onto the senate. Any armed senators turn their handguns skyward, in a pitiful attempt at self defense, while Cambreaker and the other armored bots assist the wounded in escaping to the senate emergency bunker. Casualties are high.

Evening, Iaconian drydock 7, Tagon industrial district, Cybertron. Bombs burst against the ceiling lattice, raining fire and debris down into the dockyard. The yet moored Ætherspite opens fire with all her anti-fighter guns and cannons, in an attempt to defend the dockyard until her commission as the 32nd Autobot anti-capital combat frigate. The future captain of the ship, Cambreaker, mans a medium repeating laser cannon on the ground near one of the massive mooring posts. Scoring three hits on a seeker as it tears apart the night sky with null ray fire, Cambreaker watches the jet flame out and crash into a nearby office tower. The assault continues, disregarding losses. Casualties are high.

Early morning, Tagon district airspace, Cybertron. Bombs explode on the ground below the Ætherspite as a Decepticon raid progresses to prevent final supply stocking of the ‘Spite and two of her sister ships. The combat frigate crews act valiantly, but are hampered by their proximity to friendly ships and facilities. Despite their efforts, the ground below the combat frigates is reduced to a no-man’s land, as the ships are commissioned and baptized in fire. Casualties are high.

Thirteen years later. Deep space, en route to Altex 7. Bombs hammer against the Ætherspite’s reinforced shields, taxing the power output of the ship’s double redundant energon converters. Withering anti-aircraft fire licks out from every surface of the ship, striving to taste the blood of a swarm of Decepticon raiders and starfighters. As one Decepticon fighter/bomber collides bodily with the shields in front of the aft bridge, ship’s captain Cambreaker shakes his head in dismay. The Ætherspite was meant to fight craft larger than itself, not a swarm of determined Decepticon fighter-bombers. The second shield generator began to warm over as energy diverted from blown fuses in the first seeped into its alloy veins.

“Bombs, bombs, bombs! Slag!” Cambreaker curses. Bombsight turns his head and raises an optic ridge. Double Clutch focuses on maintaining optimum power routing to the defense grid. Taking manual remote control of one of the dorsal turrets, Cambreaker targets a Decepticon and fires a salvo, melting the doomed transformer into a tiny metallic asteroid.

Today, Decepticon casualties are high. However, damage to the ship, and stress upon the war-weary crew also make themselves evident. But this is not where the story begins.
Last edited by Time Traveller on Tue Sep 08, 2009 10:30 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Time Traveller »

1
Pit Fighter

Cambreaker looked on with a stone cold expression on his faceplates as the gladiator named Megatron prepared to end the life of some hapless former miner whose name would be lost in the annals of prewar Cybertronian history. Pulling his cloak closer around him, Cambreaker watched the spectacle, hiding his disdain and disgust, as not to arouse the suspicion of the armed and over-energized rabble all around him.

Megatron raised his massive fusion cannon and took aim at the fated gladiator’s cranial unit, while speaking a short but powerful oration that held the audience captive for the final ritual of the fight. After eliciting a cheer for some slag about the downtrodden workers of Cybertron, he turned what might have been a poignant scene into an ironic one. Cambreaker watched, optics affixed to the center of the ring, as Megatron’s fusion cannon belched forth a broad violet beam of atomic energy, disintegrating his opponent’s cranial unit. The lifeless body clattered to the arena floor, and as another cheer rippled through the unruly crowd, Cambreaker found it a suitable time to excuse himself from this underground world of barbarism.

Cambreaker transformed outside the arena ticket booth and all eight wheels hit the ground turning. The tunnels of Kaon turned to a blur as he accelerated to his top controllable speed. The rubbish, the black market arms and exotic energon dealers, the disenfranchised workers who wished to see their working bot hero fight, but could not afford admission… it seemed all the filth of Cybertron festered here. The rest of the Senate seemed completely unaware, much less the council of elders. Cambreaker had been filming documentary after undercover documentary of the brutal second lives of the blood and of the Cybertron workforce. His cutting exposés disturbed some of the senators to their spark chambers, but even they seemed to do little to stop it.

Granted, the Council of Elders seemed to control all the major happenings of the Cybertronian cultural climate, but the Senate could at least try to pass legislation regarding the official handling of the pit fights, or better, the disgruntled workers that populated them. To Cambreaker, the root of the problem was easy to see. To most of the rest, the only things to see were their small-minded, isolationist goals of Cybertronian prosperity through continuing the status quo.

Each solar cycle, each scrap of energon the Council and the Senate
refused to feed the Kaon workers and miners instead fed a giant beast that grew and breathed beneath the surface of Cybertron. A beast that was made of war and intolerance, whose breath was weaponized cutting lasers and whose hide was covered in the very tattoos that were being painted on Megatron right now, in honor of his victory. The beast was becoming restless. The energon that the Council dripped into its stomach drop by drop only made it hungry for more.

Cambreaker downshifted and slowed enough to make a tire-squealing turn into the tunnel to the surface. Holo-posters on the tunnel walls were already projecting Megatron’s most impressive combat moments against tonight’s prize fighter as advertising for the next fight. It made Cambreaker’s fuel tank turn. He was only two kliks from the surface, and officials had not found this illicit advertising, despite how many times he himself had come this way.

Breaking on out onto the streets of the surface, Cybertronian life carried on as it always did. An alien sun rose over the horizon, making the metallic planet shine like a diamond against the oceanic blackness of space. Making his way back to Iacon was no short trip. After driving at top speed for most of the day on the freeway, Cambreaker arrived to his flat outside the capital city in the early afternoon. He promptly laid down to rest on his recharge berth and went into diagnostic stasis.

The door buzzer rang. And rang again. It had only been a few cycles. Cambreaker’s computer ended diagnostic mode and brought his systems back online. He shuffled to the door and looked at the preview screen. A smaller, black and gold robot was looking impatiently at the camera.

“Cambreakah, you in theah? Hello-o?”

“Yes, Blackjack…” Cambreaker grumbled, still exhausted from his trip.

“You should, ah, open ‘iss doah and let an ol’ pal pay a visit!” This bot obviously recharged at some point last night. Cambreaker would have resented the fact, had it been anyone else. He opened the door. “Ey, Cammy! Howya doin’?” Blackjack clasped one hand with Cambreaker’s and reached up to clap the other hand to Cam’s shoulder. “It’s been forevah since I seen ya! Senate’s outta sessions anyway, whereya been runnin’ to all the time?”

As Blackjack and Cambreaker released hands, Cam pulled his hand across his face, loosening the hydraulics enough to crack a weary smirk.

“Ya went ta Kaon again, din’tcha?” Blackjack probed, seeing the irked look in Cam’s optics. “I knew ya couldn’t keep ya chassis outta there. What can ya do about it anyways? Like ya told me, the Senate is too flamin’ wrapped up in theah own affaihs ta worry about the pit fights…”

“It’s not just the pit fights anymore, Blackjack,” Cam finally piped up. “It’s about the unrest that the culture of the underground is fomenting. The crowd was just… electrified by the violence. I’ve never seen Cybertronians whipped into such a frenzy. I don’t know what it is about the spectacle that seems so exciting to them.”

“Powah,” Blackjack offered simply. “Powah an’ the opportunity to escape theah lot through violence, I’d wager.” He sat down across from Cam at the presentation table. “What happened dis time?”

Cambreaker sighed. “A champion prize fighter was pitted against an up-and-coming mine foreman. The fighter’s name was Megatron. He’s modified his whole body for killing… I hear he can even transform into some big, tracked death machine. He’s even got a giant weaponized fusion cutter right on his arm. Needless to say, he won. After every fight, he riles up the crowd with rhetoric about social classdom, and the Council, before finishing his opponent. Then he gets a painted mark added to his armor while being awarded his laurels, and the crowd finally takes to the streets.” Cambreaker paused for a second, and then continued on a previous thought still floating in his cortex, “The council’s actions really don’t help. They’ve done nothing but try to ‘put the workers in their place’ and ‘protect Cybertron’s collective knowledge.’ Even the Senate is kept in the dark half of the time.”

“Well,” Blackjack attempted to console his friend, “Ya know I don’t know too much about the best policies fo’ the govahment, but I always play my cahds closest to my chestplate when Ah’ve got a full house in hand.”

Cambreaker grunted in agreement.

“Ya know, I came heah to try and get you away from ya work for a cycle oah two. I knew you was up to no good bein’ gone all the time lately. I figgah’d maybe we could catch a show at the theatah… I hear those dancehs is back from the Crystal City, they always put on a good show. We could go to the Leaky Fuel Line aftawahd and catch a few pints of imported oil.”

“You know what…” Cambreaker pondered, “I think I’ll join you for all that this evening. First, though, I ought to recharge. What time does the show start?”

“Foah cycles. Think you can make it?”

“Sure. I’ll meet you at the ticket office.”
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Post by Time Traveller »

To keep it rolling, here's Ch 2. Don't worry, some more action will start soon.

2
The Dancer

Cambreaker transformed and walked up to the ticket booth. Multicolored lights up and down the broad avenue of the theater reflected off Cam’s windshield panes and cast skittering lights on the wall of the building, mingling with the hundreds of others from the surfaces of the crowd. As Cam presented his shanix to the cashier, he spotted Blackjack parting with some acquaintance with whom he’d been talking. As Blackjack approached, Cam extended his hands to return another warm greeting, clasping hands and clapping the other to Blackjack’s shoulder.
“Cammy! Glad ya could make it. I was beginnin’ ta wondah if ya made it off ya rechage berth. Ya looked pretty beat when I stopped earliah.”
“Well, it was an extra long trip to Kaon. I had to stalk around the tunnels for six cycles yesterday afternoon to procure some tickets for the fight from scalpers. But, frag it, I’m going to enjoy the show, so jilt me if I slip into recharge during the performance.”
“You shuah ‘bout that? Last time you said dat, I hadta sap you on the side of ya head ta wake ya up! Roulette wasn’t too keen on me gettin’ all violent in public.” The two bots began to stroll into the theatre, finding their balcony and handing their tickets to the usher as they talked. They hardly paid attention as the usher slipped a show program into each of their hands.
“Where is she, anyway? I thought for sure you’d have brought her tonight.”
“Eh, I figgah’d it’d be best if she sat this hand out. Y’know, just us gentlebots tonight. Dat way ya got me all to yahself.”
Cambreaker raised an optic ridge, and after a beat, turned back to Blackjack. “You do know this isn’t one of those shows, right? We saw this troupe before, in Protihex.”
“Yeah, I remembah. I just wanted to make shuah ya wouldn’t think about dat Megatrahm durin’ the perofohmance.”
“Megatron,” corrected Cambreaker.
“Whatevah. You just gotta cool ya turbochargahs for ten breems and maybe take a fresh look at dat Metacrumb thing tomorrah, once ya got some fresh voltage in ya wires.”
“Megatron…” Cambreaker interjected impatiently.
“Wouldja shut up wit dat? Primus! He ain’t gonna end the wohld! Even if he was, what the pit good does pronouncin’ his name right do ya?”
Cambreaker hung his head, knowing his old friend was right. He was obsessing again, and it was pointless. Even if he had the support of other senators in shutting down or debilitating the underground fighting, it would take vorns to get legislation passed. “You hear from Kup at all lately?” Cambreaker inquired, trying to take his mind off the subject.
“Nope. You?”
“No…” Another awkward silence fell on the friends as they took their seats in a balcony directly overlooking the stage.
“Well, I heah Sentinel keeps those academy recruits pretty busy, makin shuah they know all the slag they won’t need ta deal with the real galaxy. Ya know, I think that guy’s playin’ with less’n a full deck sometimes. Lucky theah ain’t real trouble aboveground, he’d be deadah ‘n a turbofox outside the richie-rich estates.”
Cambreaker chuckled picturing the haughty blue-blooded elite of Cybertron out casually sniping Sentinel Prime from their verandas with their long rifles while the Prime wandered like a clueless ro-bovine in the field. “Heh. That’s leadership alright. No wonder we’ve got problems.”
After some further banter about the inadequacy of Sentinel and the council, the crowd begins hush, and the lights dim. Cambreaker surveys the massive theater… nearly a thousand transformers pack the seats, their optics glowing like the galactic belt in the dark corners of the room. Suddenly, an usher disturbs Cambreaker’s bot-watching.
“Senator Cambreaker… Sir, the High Council has reserved a row in the front for any Senate members wishing to view the show. None have signed in, and one of the other ushers noted your identity. Would you like to be moved to the open seats in front?”
Cambreaker looked confusedly to Blackjack for a moment before turning back to the usher. “Can I bring my friend with?”
“Certainly, you may bring any party that is seated with you. This way, please.” As the usher left and Cambreaker and Blackjack settled into their new front-row seats, they grinned at each other about the windfall.
“Ya fellow Senatahs shuah do make an effaht to be in touch wit cultcha…”
“Tell me about it. I don’t understand why the council wastes its shanix on these ‘enrichment activities.’ Those homebody old codgers wouldn’t come out of their quarters if they got paid for it. Hah! When I gave a speech in Vos one time, some bot in the crowd asked me who their actual senator there was.”
“Heh heh. Did ya know ‘im?” Blackjack’s question shortly went unanswered as the holograph of a mural on the front wall dissipated to reveal the empty stage. An emcee announced the formal name of the performing troupe, as well as the composers and writers involved in the production. Cam missed all of this, having been reabsorbed into his thoughts about Kaon. He glared across the empty stage, seeing the empty gladiatorial ring before him. He envisioned the spilled energon staining the finely ground crystalline arena floor. The first dancers came gracefully out onto the stage as the first lightweight opening gladiators trotted out onto the arena, sporting their weapons and shields.
As the two dancers began to move to the thrumming, deep rhythm of the Cybertronian music, the gladiators in Cambreaker’s mind crossed weapons and exchanged glancing blows. The dance quickened, the gladiators twirling about looking for an opening to jilt the other with their energon mining blades. They swirled about, more dancers spinning out onto the stage just as more opening gladiators charged into the arena. Weapons clanged, dancers twisted and flipped through the air, tossing one another effortlessly as the hypnotic tones of the music intensified, and as the gladiators flung each other to the arena floor.
Suddenly, as the powerful bass echo chambers began to bellow out shockwaves of sound, the largest gladiators thundered out into the arena. The light, limber dancers scattered to the edges of the stage as the opening act fighters scattered to the arena exits. The largest of the brawlers began to exchange blows, though not for lack of grace. Cambreaker watched in a trance as they clashed against each other’s armored exoskeleton, seeking to wield their formidable power to the other’s weakest point, eager to bring death in glorious combat.
Blackjack’s optics flicked across the performers on the stage, impressed by the complicated choreography and power which the dancers portrayed. At center stage, two large male bots performed a purposeful, striding sort of dance, as smaller, willowy bots enveloped the scene in a soft shell, like the branches of a young grove in the wind. At last, fog emanated from a lift rising up from the stage floor. Blackjack had heard rave reviews of the climactic act about to be performed by the lead dancer.
Cambreaker’s optics widened as the arena gate drew open one final time. The bested of the two heavyweight fighters exited with shame and jeering, and a dead silence fell over the crowd. This was the part he hated most, the part he saw every night during his recharge time. This was no doubt the part where the famed gladiator Megatron would come out and prove his heroism by murdering a fellow Kaonian, a fellow transformer… The music attenuated to a poignant hush. Cambreaker gripped the arms of his seat, becoming noticeably uneasy.
The stage lift rose, and the backlit smoke revealed the shadowy silhouette of a lithe female transformer, head bowed and arms at her sides. The diminuendo of the music built tension as the dancer took two graceful strides to bring herself out of the column of smoke that had enshrouded her. The lights shifted as she raised her head to reveal a young, calm orange face with sapphire blue optics. Her white exterior reflected the colors of each spotlight onto every surface, creating eerily hovering will o’ wisps among the audience.
Cambreaker was at first confused. He scanned up and down the visage of the graceful white and red fembot, unsure of what he’d missed during his underground reverie. Before he could piece together his conscious thoughts with his current distraction, the music resumed, softly, and at a slow pace. The dancer moved, purposefully, dexterously. Cambreaker’s optics followed her every movement. As the music grew, the dancer began to bend and sway to it’s rhythms and melodies. The orchestra played a most haunting tune, and the dancer’s nimble movements matched the eerie song’s mystery in Cam’s processor. For several breems, he sat paralyzed by the motion and the melody, whirling and spinning in his head.
It was a vision of beauty. Cambreaker and Blackjack gazed on with wide optics as the dancer concluded her impressive and elaborate number, before bowing solemnly and retreating to the platform to lower her back into the stage. An explosion of applause and cheering rippled through the audience like a breaking wave. Cam quickly thumbed through the show program and referenced the performer’s name: Minerva.
Cambreaker returned home to his flat and did not go into diagnostic mode. His sensor data conduits were raw and his fuel pump was beaten tender. He replayed the scene again and again in his memory, trying to discern for certain whether their optics had met.
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Post by Time Traveller »

Wow, been a while. It's 3am, I should have been working on TFL-North auctions, but I decided to write a little for a break. Next chapter, someone DIES! Who will it be? Is it... WHEELIE? (no.)
3
Opposition

“Youse had ya optics on hah like red on a turbofox,” said the black sportscar. His gold pinstripes and wheel hubs glinted different colors in the glow of the streetlights. “Ya better not let Half-assed or whatevah his name is find out about dis, he’d teah ya ta ribbons about ya motives with this Mega-can thing.”
“Halfshaft? That arrogant radiator plug is silica sand on my mudflaps. Besides, he won’t find out. He’s too busy back in Protihex preening himself and drawing up his next glorious piece of legislative work. As many under-the-table concessions as he’s so anxious to make, and never in the direction of actual quelling the upheaval, you’d think he LIKES Megatron…”
“Maybe he does. Eh?”
Cambreaker paused for a minute, disturbed by the thought. Halfshaft was a rock in the tire, but it was a whole different story to be promoting civil unrest that could lead to a war. What did he have to gain from warmongering, anyway? “Goodnight, Blackjack.”
Blackjack chafed at the sudden closure of discussion. “Eeey-eh. ‘Night, Cammy,” he skulked, then burned rubber for home, as Cam let himself into the flat. Glancing at the datapad on the desk, in which he had stored his latest underworld findings, Cambreaker’s thoughts briefly returned to Megatron.
By the time he laid down onto his recharge berth, Megatron and Senator Halfshaft were back to back, blasting their foes to charred smithereens.
Halfshaft was a financial mogul and a noble. He was keen and cunning, possessing the kind of processor that could calculate to the bottom line of a business deal faster than the famed racer Blurr could cover the quarter-klik. He’d wheedled his way into the senate through his money, of course. Certainly, many senators attained their seats through bribery and favors, but Halfshaft seemed to have the PIN of every bank account in the council spires. His contributions to Cybertron were contributions to his own syndicate.
What was worse, of course, was the fact that people seemed to like him. While older senators glared down with scorn upon Cambreaker when he bucked the system or even wrinkled the balance sheets, they always stood behind Halfshaft’s entrepreneurial schemes as though his mind was a direct result of their outmoded, stagnant teachings. They lauded him at bill signings, applauded him at speeches, and most amazingly, shut up when he was talking.
Cambreaker was the only senator in Iacon to have consistently voted against Halfshaft’s fiscal maneuvers and financial escapades. He wondered why senators voted against their own selfish interests to fuel Halfshaft’s selfish interests.
Halfshaft stood back to back with Megatron, as Megatron’s fusion cannon spat forth death into faces of his debilitated competitors. Halfshaft propped his foot on the back of a prostrate commoner and aimed his huge hunting rifle at another foe.
Cambreaker sat up, ventilating fast enough to cool his engine if he had been racing. He bumblingly rested back onto the berth, his cortex sore and his processor reeling. Returning to recharge mode, the images of Megatron and Halfshaft promptly returned. Giving up, Cambreaker powered up his systems and shuffled to his holodesk two write, fiddle, or waste time.
“And so, reinvesting funds into double-disk refiner power cores will put every shanix back into the pockets of the working Cybertronian!” Halfshaft boasted on in Cambreaker’s memory. A general murmur of approval seeped through the senate chamber. Cambreaker leaned forward and pressed his mic button.
“Aren’t DDR cores significantly less efficient than the late model size-press cores?” he resented skeptically. Halfshaft bristled momentarily, not expecting so obvious a question to be put to his storage compartment lining ploy. He shot Cambreaker an aggravated look before snapping his comeback.
“The DDR cores offer an unproven amount less capacity for power collection, but promoting them for their unit cost savings is an obvious solution to problems in every senator’s district, even yours here in Iacon proper, senator Cambreaker,” Halfshaft sniped. Cambreaker looked across the chamber to two of his fellow Iacon district senators, who seemed continuously more enthused by the project.
It was so simple! Everyone knew Halfshaft owned shares in a DDR power core manufacturer whose profit margins were slipping because they lacked technology in the new size-press core models. Now the Cybertronian government was to subsidize Halfshaft’s failing enterprise? Was there no one who would stand against this scheming megalomaniac?
Megacycles passed. It was now early morning, and outside Cambreaker’s viewport, the surface showed the hazy, refracted glow of pre-dawn through the thin atmosphere. Drawing himself up straight, Cambreaker decided to go for a drive. He cruised the dimly lit, empty streets, turning right at every intersection on an evenly numbered route. He eventually rolled toward the back wall of the amphitheatre he and Blackjack had visited earlier in the evening. It seemed like it had been vorns since he had witnessed the strange and exotic dance from front row seats, which had wrapped him in a strange world of fantasy and enthralled him.
One of the truckers was finishing loading show equipment back into the travel trailers to visit the next city. His dirt-spattered orange paint glinted in the streetlight as he turned, flexing his huge-bore hydraulics to lift a piece of scaffolding into the trailer. He stopped at the intersection, and continued straight. Before he could pass the first loading dock, the trucker was waving him down in silhouette against the loading dock lights. Cambreaker rolled to a halt.
“Cambreakrr! Long time no see.” The stocky trucker patted his hand down on Cambreaker’s cab.
“Powertrain, is that you? I can’t believe it!”
“Yuh bet yurr diodes, it is,” assured the trucker in a husky Tagon accent. “Whut the slag urr you doin’ out at this hourr of the night? Tryin’ ta take ovurr fur the cops?”
“Well, I have no doubt that the Chief of police is doing a fine job keeping you in line, Powertrain.”
“That thurr Prowl nabbed me agin fur 3 ovurr on th’ way here! Ah, don’ matter. The show went off without a hitch, and we only got one more gig to hit. But what urr you doin’ this late? Not that ah ain’t glad ta’ see ya!”
Not wanting to talk too long, Cambreaker decided not to transform. “I couldn’t recharge just yet, I remembered something I had to take care of before sessions tomorrow.”
Powertrain shook his head and smiled wryly. “Yurr workin’ yurself too hard, ya can only pull a trailer so far b’fur ya gotta hit the transport stop, y’know? Take’r from me.” Cambreaker knew his workaholic buddy was right, but decided to ignore the advice regardless.
“You’re right. I ought to head back. You take care of yourself, I’ll look you up next time your troupe is in town.”
“Durn right ya will! Take care, Cambreakrr!!”
Cambreaker wheeled around in the parking lot behind the loading area as Powertrain went back to work. He considered what it must be like to live life on the move. Even though he was always active, Cambreaker had a home that stayed put. He always showed up to work in the same spire chambers, in the same city. He had heard that there were more and more species that carved out their existence among the stars, living aboard great starships for entire generations. No planet, no borders, no home. It seemed impossible that a sentient species could tolerate that. So long as his wheels were on Cybertronian metal, Cambreaker was happy. Sometimes it felt like that stern, cold alloy was rusting away from beneath him.
Sinking deeper into his pensiveness, Cambreaker considered Blackjack’s thoughts. Cambreaker had a tendency for pessimism, and he wondered if Megatron would end the world. It was all so fragile, resting on the shoulders of incompetents like Sentinel, and in the greedy hands of Halfshaft. He had to get inside the opposition’s cranial casing: Halfshaft had investors to whom he surely confided, or at least who suspected the level of treachery they themselves engaged in.
Cambreaker drove, the sun rose, the chambers opened, and Senator Cambreaker donned his cloak and checked in. The usual minutes were reread and discussed, and debated. The senate could hardly agree on what had been said yesterday. Then something amazing happened.
“I think we should reconsider Cambreaker’s proposals about the fighting,” said the slight and vividly blue senator from Nova Cronum. Cambreaker could hardly remember his name as he sat bolt upright in time to hear the first vehement protest.
“The senate has already decided this to be a waste of time!” shot Halfshaft. “I would advise the gentlebot from Nova Cronum to cease obstructing senate process with such petty distractions.”
The chrome-faced senator Throttle brimmed. “Recent reports about the fights indicate that the victor now typically executes the loser after a fight. This excessive violence is murder, not to mention the general over-energizedness that these events promote. Such violence could spill onto the streets, and to do nothing is to condone it!”
“AYE!” Cambreaker boomed, standing up. “This plague has spread to every district of every Torus Orbital State.” Throttle had a vindicated and relieved smile on his face as Cambreaker continued. “The path senator Halfshaft of Polyhex would lead you on is a path to war.” The word set heavy with the entire senate.
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Minerva
Nurse to Die For
Posts: 3212
Joined: Fri Oct 19, 2007 1:17 pm
Location: Transformerland-North HQ

Post by Minerva »

It's certainly been a while, but it's great to see another chapter up!
Keep up the good work, I hope more will come soon! :D
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Rhymus
City Commander
Posts: 494
Joined: Wed Mar 17, 2004 5:26 pm
Location: Earth, North America, East Coast

Post by Rhymus »

It would appear that, for certain details about the prequel era of the TFL RPG, i may have given credit to the wrong author.

[Opens mouth, inserts foot]

(To transform back into robot mode, reverse the order of these instructions.)

Well, whoever's ideas they were, i still like Metacrumb's fusion cutter. i also thought the debate about Senator Halfshaft's power core proposal was particularly well scripted, and the scene with Senator Throttle's arguments about the excessive violence of the gladiatorial "games". Perhaps the best-written part was Cambreaker's reaction to Minerva, especially the line "He replayed the scene again and again in his memory, trying to discern for certain whether their optics had met."

In "The Dancer", i wonder if you did this deliberately: i was initially unsure if actual gladiators broke into the performance hall, perhaps rioting and/or as part of the beginning of the Decepticon uprising. i realize now there were no actual gladiators, but i remain uncertain whether the dancers were acting out the roles of warriors (like Human dancers putting on a performance of "West Side Story", for example), or if the pit fights simply weighed so heavily on Cambreaker's mind that he saw an abstract dance and interpreted it Rorschach-blot-style as the gladiators fighting.

Is the Powertrain in this story based on the G1 character of that name? Is this story's Powertrain not a Micromaster?

On a rather different subject, is the Ætherspite based on the Blade ship from the "Animorphs" series? (which might be kind of an Easter egg, considering who made the "Animorphs" toys.)
One shall stand; one shall fall; and the one who stands shall help the one who falls to stand once again.
--Rhymus (also known as STARS Commando 539, also known as transit)
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