Stasis lock disengaged. Nanite level optimal. Chassis erosion negligible. Spark activity returning.
Its optics activated for the first time in aeons. The chamber of the Ark was dark, almost impossible to discern; the vessel itself had yet to reactivate. Why was that, again? It tried to remember, mind still groggy from the hibernation period. The war, the damage to the Bridge, the evacuation... but what else? What was it missing?
Moving a limb, it realized that the chamber had flooded with a fluid, transparent to many wavelengths. A cursory analysis revealed that it was water, laced with particulates from the surrounding rock and soil.
That gave it pause. Water was an alien substance, found nowhere back home; why was it submerged in the fluid?
Suddenly, it remembered. They'd crashed here, on this bizarre planet, when the Nemesis had attacked and boarded them. There'd been a struggle, an accidental change in trajectory, and now they were here. If its subconscious readings were accurate, four million of this odd planet's local revolutions had passed since the crash.
Had the others awakened, too?
It needed to find out. It could feel life returning to the rest of its body, its spark reactivating unused gears and other components. Nanites flooded along their channels, repairing whatever slight damage had occurred during the hibernation period, and it twitched its limbs tentatively, testing their hydraulics.
Satisfied, it began to move. The Ark had tilted during the aeons, and so it took care not to slide all the way down to the aft of the vessel as it climbed up. Optics scanning the chamber, it located its comrades- and its enemies. All were still in stasis lock; upon approaching one, it saw that the chassis had become severely damaged over time.
They were all severely damaged, it found. Nominally, they would've woken once there was a way to escape their prison, but now they had to stay in lock, or they would perish.
It, too, was starved for energy. It needed to get to the surface and replenish its own reserves before it could focus on trying to rejuvenate its comrades.
And so, it continued climbing up, its movements sluggish in the water. The Ark's fore was close to the surface; it could see a beam of light shining through a crack in the rocks above. As if tantalized by the thought, it already set about to converting part of its exterior to solar collectors, directing the nanites to the task.
It finally reached the fore of the Ark and swung a fist against the rocks. It was weakened by the time in hibernation; the crack barely widened, shaking some soil loose and onto its head. After two more strikes, however, it finally broke through, and more light came through. It took it in greedily through the collectors, letting it replenish its depleted well.
After a short time passed, it fully emerged from the ground and studied its surroundings, shaking the last bits of soil off its massive frame. It was standing on a sandy shore, close to the water. The planet's bright star was low on the horizon, reflecting light over the vast ocean that covered most of the surface, and puffy clouds of water vapor were moving in from over the horizon.
That wasn't what caught its attention, however.
Scattered around the area were massive vessels, their exteriors badly eroded. Two and two were put together, and it quickly reached the conclusion that these had been used to traverse the ocean, before being abandoned.
But by whom? The designs were not like those of its own people, and the materials were incredibly low-grade, if the scans meant anything. Had this world developed its own intelligent species during all those millions of years?
It turned around, and saw that there was a large settlement nearby, composed of a multitude of structures of varying sizes, all made from glass and metal and concrete. The structures were nothing like those on its own world. They were too small, for one; it'd be hard pressed to fit into all but the largest of them. Their architectural styles were alien, too, with too much emphasis on blockiness.
So this world had natives, then.
It'd need to avoid their attention while it gathered the necessary energy to rejuvenate its comrades and restore the Ark. But to plan for anything about them, it needed to understand them.
It listened in to the faint radio buzz emanating from the settlement, but couldn't discern anything. It'd need to access some of their technology, first.
With that in mind, it warily approached the settlement. Its feet sank deep in the sandy ground, but eventually the soil hardened as it drew nearer. Eventually, it could see what appeared to be a road in the distance. There was a rapid oxidation occurring in one of nearby structures, and there were vehicles of some sort arriving at the scene. It watched as they stopped at the burning structure, and waited.
It was then that it saw the natives for the first time. They were small, barely the height of its shin, though their overall shape was uncannily similar to its own: two locomotive limbs, and two manipulating ones. They moved quickly, spraying the structure with water from one of the vehicles, and the oxidation ceased for the most part.
It scanned the vehicle in question, analyzing the technology within. It directed its nanites, preparing its metamorphic abilities as it shaped its frame. Its exterior rapidly changed texture and color, and produced superfluous features. Inside, it prepared moving parts as to better aid the metamorphic process, while avoiding changing its vital functions.
If it wanted to avoid detection, it needed camouflage.
At the same time, it also scanned a nearby comm device, and incorporated part of its design into its receivers, so it could access their means of communication. At last, it could tune into their information relays, and was stunned by the sheer volume of data they produced. It set to work on deciphering it, picking up the important things.
Earth. Humans. Parahumans.
The planet's star -sun- had disappeared beneath the horizon by the time it was finished the process. No-one noticed the vehicle -fire truck- driving back into the Boat Graveyard.
I
When morning came again, it'd completed its research into the world, and was shocked at the results.
Humans with abilities far beyond those of their kin, abilities they could not explain. Monsters that shattered islands and crumbled cities. The ever-looming threat of societal collapse.
The human world was a strange one, rife with conflict. And yet, there was still good in it, or it would have never reached its current point. They were an intriguing people, and it found itself engrossed by them.
It stared over at what it now knew was called Brockton Bay, and pondered while the sunlight helped recharge its reserves. It'd retrieved its comrades from the Ark, but sunlight was too meager of a power source to reverse the damage. It'd need to find a more potent method: there were several, if the internet was even slightly accurate, but accessing them was easier said than done.
Funny. It was already picking up their colloquialisms.
It focused once more on the matter at hand. When the sun had set again, it assumed the form of the fire-truck, and began to drive down to the city. Hopefully, it could access one of their power-stations. If not, reconnaissance still had its uses. The humans guarded their power sources, for many of them were outright lethal if not handled properly.
Adjusting to human traffic was troublesome. Many human drivers didn't seem to follow the rules and regulations they'd set up for their own safety. More than a few honked at him as he awkwardly moved through the streets, scanning power stations and generators as it passed them by.
That was when it noticed the fire on its infrared scanners.
Stopping at the streetlight, it studied the source on multiple wavelengths, traced the smoke in the air. It was coming from a more rundown section of the city, and was anything but natural.
A parahuman.
It pulled up the databases it'd studied. If the research was accurate, then the parahuman had to be the one they called "Lung", known for his pyrokinesis and monstrous strength. A killer of his own kind, deemed an enemy of the city.
A familiar kind of enemy, unfortunately.
As it studied it further, it realized there was another human nearby, infrared signature hard to discern amongst the flames. Based on the size, it was most likely an adolescent female. She was running from Lung, but not fast enough.
It paused, thinking. Avoiding detection was of utmost importance, but to let a child die when the death could be prevented was unconscionable.
Freedom was the right of all sentient beings.
With that thought, it revved its engine, and rolled out.
T
I didn't imagine that my second night out as a cape would end with me horribly dying in a fire.
Well, that was kind of a lie. I'd thought about it, sure, but I never seriously considered it. I was trying to fly under the radar for the time being, just apprehending the occasional mugger or robber. How would that entail getting in a fight with the most powerful villain in the city?
Clearly, luck wasn't on my side.
I spread my swarm out, feeling for escape routes. There were a few paths open to me, but Lung's flames were spreading, and he was getting closer. I'd already lost most of my bugs in his initial blast, which limited surveillance for now. No that I really needed it, when the fire was enough of an indicator of where not to be.
For the hundredth time, I was glad I'd taken up running before heading out, otherwise Lung would've caught me already. That being said, I was still a fifteen-year-old girl, and he was a twelve-foot-tall dragon man with a three meter stride.
I ducked into an alleyway, taking a short cut in time to avoid a blast of flame. By the time Lung had reached the entrance, I was already on another street, still hoofing it. I began to breathe a bit easier; there was now a bit of distance between him and me. Despite myself, I even started thinking I could actually make it.
Until he leapt onto the roof of the two-story building, and jumped down right near me.
Luck really wasn't on my side.
The tip of a claw caught me in the flank, and I went spinning, the wind getting knocked out of my lungs when I landed. My entire side throbbed with pain, but I knew it would've been far worse without my spider-silk suit. Still, I could hardly move, let alone stand. I managed to turn on my back to see Lung glaring at me, his draconian teeth bared in a macabre grin.
"Bug girl," he growled, his voice an inhuman rumble.
The fact that he hadn't incinerated me yet was proof he was going for a more "limb-ripping-off" manner of death. I'd seem some pictures of it, when I was starting my research, and immediately regretted the decision.
I reached for the pepper-spray in my belt, only to realize it had somehow been knocked loose. Feeling out with my bugs, I realized it was a few feet away. I set some spiders and beetles on rolling it over, but that wouldn't be quick enough. Delaying him by talking wouldn't work, so I simply stared at him, futilely flinging my remaining bugs at him as he stepped forward.
I was going to die here. Mom was going to read about me in the paper next morning, and see her little girl's mangled corpse on the front page. Emma and the others were probably going to joke with themselves about it, too. Dumb loser Taylor Hebert, eaten by a dragon.
It was then that a pair of headlights shone on the road, and I heard the sound of an engine.
Before I knew what was going on, a fire-truck was suddenly where Lung had been a moment ago, door flung wide open. I managed to hop to my feet, still in a daze about what'd just happened.
"Get in!" a voice barked.
I did as told, hopping inside. The door slammed shut of its own volition, and I vaguely realized I was actually in the driver's seat, not the passenger side.
Then who'd told me to get in?
There wasn't time to think about that. A good thirty feet away, Lung was getting back up, wounds already healing, flesh knitting back together. His power went to work, making him even taller than before. He stared my way, flames dancing around his body, and exploded. Flames washed against the windshield, but seemed to do nothing other than warm up the cabin a little.
"Hold on," the voice said.
The truck backed up, then sped forward again. Lung had the good sense to step to the side in time to avoid getting hit again, and tried to swipe at the side. The truck shifted, and Lung was slammed into a nearby wall with enough force to smash right through it.
By the time he was back up, we were too far away.
The truck weaved in and out of traffic, blaring its siren to clear a path. Downtown and the Docks were getting further away, and I realized we were heading towards the Boat Graveyard.
Was that were the controller of the truck was? Was I getting kidnapped by some sort of tinker? Or was it genuinely a rescue mission?
Well, I wouldn't find out by staying silent.
"Uh..." I finally managed to say. "Who's driving?"
"I am," came the reply.
Well, that certainly answered things.
It did offer some information, though. Whoever was speaking, it was definitely a man, with a deep and gravelly voice. He sounded like he could be a voice actor; hell, with a growl like that, he could probably play a gorilla.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Somewhere safe."
Why was he being so cryptic? That made me worried; a hero wouldn't have to hide things, would he?
There were still some bugs on me. I had them try and squeeze into the interior of the car, searching for anything delicate. If I was lucky, I could have them chew some wires and break something, if I needed to.
Huh. No wires. This definitely wasn't a normal fire truck.
Eventually, we arrived in the Boat Graveyard, and the door swung open again. Tentatively, I stepped out, feet sticking slightly in the muddy sand. For half a second, I was tempted to run, but common sense prevailed; there was no way I was outrunning that.
"Remain calm," the voice said again.
I frowned. Just what could that mea-
Before my eyes, the truck got up. It was hard to make out in the dark, but I could see gears and other parts shifting as it began to shift its form. The front of the truck became the 'chest' roughly speaking, and the sides became arms, with hands big enough to hold me in. It rose up, and its form became more humanoid looking as it finished the last parts of its transformation.
In a matter of seconds, there was a thirty-foot-tall robot looking down at me, blue eyes glowing softly in the dark. It almost reminded me of that villain I'd read about, called Trainwreck. Well, if Trainwreck was fully robotic, sleeker, looked more like a fire truck, and was the size of an Endbringer.
"Do not be alarmed, child," it said, mouth hidden by some metal plate that moved with its words.
"Who..." I absentmindedly licked my lips. "Who are you?"
The robot paused, as if thinking it over. Then, finally, it spoke again.
"My name," it said, "is Optimus Prime."