Author notes: This idea was floating in my head for a while. I fully suspect it'll be a horrible fanfic, the worst in EVER. But I wanted to write it anyway. :D
SUFFER, READERS! AHAHAHAHA! *falls over*
:D
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Picture an ending before it's begun
The art of forgiveness is not what we're taught
Reek of the havoc already made
The cradle was damaged, dug by the grave
-- 'Man with no Country', Flogging Molly
Trouble's on the Line: Chapter One
Cliffjumper absolutely hated patrol. Especially this far from anything interesting, in the middle of what the humans called a 'desert-like' atmosphere. Decepticons almost never attacked someone this close to the Ark's surrounding 'territories'; patrol was downright boring. It didn't help that his patrol partner was someone he disliked.
Why did Prime believe he and Bumblebee would be good patrol partners? Granted, they were both minibots of the same mold -- almost had the same vehicle form, thanks to a lack of human imagination --, but they were hardly the same. They barely tolerated each other on their best days, and Cliffjumper had very few of those days.
At the moment, he was boredly going through the motions his duty demanded. Save for a few starving buzzards cawing overhead in the search of food, silence reigned. It seemed not even Bumblebee was in a a good enough mood to so much as turn on the radio. Perhaps the sheer boredom is why the yellow minibot drove 'off the trail', as it were, and headed to a nearby cliff overlooking a deep, barren valley. Cliffjumper followed with a complete lack of mirth.
"Why are we stopping?" The crimson Transformer stayed in his vehicle mode even as Bumblebee transformed, standing close to the cliff edge.
"You don't think it's beautiful up here?" Bumblebee frowned. "Look at the view."
"It's a wasteland. With sand." Cliffjumper huffed. Still, he transformed and looked over the terrain; the sight of a flock of buzzards diving towards a pre-killed meal caught his optics. "..And dead organics."
Bumblebee took in a deep breath to keep himself calm; the action itself was more human than otherwise, but he found it was surprisingly effective; Cliffjumper had always managed to rile and annoy him. He sat by the cliff's edge; nothing had occurred thus far on patrol, and a few cycles to relax wouldn't hurt.
Of course, as the universe would have it, things had a habit of going wrong just when most believed they wouldn't. The human's called it 'Murphy's Law'; an old Autobot saying called it 'the Pit's interference'. Whichever verse one preferred, the flash of light in the distance, within the valley and not very far from the two minibots, certainly fell well in line with the old sayings.
"What the slag..?" Cliffjumper peered at the growing light; it somehow resembled the way Cybertronian space bridges would open up, down to the oval-esque shape that appeared. It was a swirling miasma of dark colors.
For a long cycle, nothing happened. Then, a slew of Transformers -- all the same gleaming silver in color -- calmly walked out of the swirling mess, every one heavily armed.
"..Uh.." Bumblebee stared in surprise; the faction insignia each wore was unrecognizable. Although, strangely, several of the bots themselves looked remarkably like Autobots and Decepticons they were familiar with. "..This is different."
At first, the two minibots just stared, ducking low at the cliff edge; the bots seemed peaceful enough, not actively making any dangerous motions. One slightly larger bot who bore a somehow disturbing resemblance to Jazz seemed to be in command of the slightly more than a dozen bots, if the attention he received as he spoke was any indication.
Quite suddenly, the Jazz look-alike gestured to the direction of the cliff; the other silver mechs looked up, seemed to spot them, and then promptly started to rush towards them. The mixed expression of determination and dark grins suddenly didn't seem all too peaceful; in fact, it was outright dangerous.
"Uh.." Bumblebee sputtered again. "..Maybe we should head back --"
"Slag, no!" Cliffjumper practically cackled and dug in to subspace, bringing out an incredibly large cannon. "Finally, some action!" He promptly started firing on the silver bots.
"What are you doing?!" Bumblebee boggled at his patrol partner. "We don't know who they are!"
At the return fire they received, Cliffjumper only grinned. "Obviously, they're Decepticons!" He had nothing to base this on, but it didn't stop him from continuing his attack.
Perhaps they shouldn't have been standing as close as they were to the cliff's edge; a rather well aimed blast from the Jazz look-alike sent the stone and sand crumbling beneath them. Thankfully, for a Transformer -- even for the minibots --, the fall wasn't as damaging as it would have been for a human. They both tumbled with startled yelps.
At least one of them had the mind to call for backup, even as they fell. "Bumblebee to -- " He hit the ground, face-first. "..We're under attack. Ow.."
"Let's get out of here." The look-alike even sounded like Jazz, save for the lack of jovial tone. "They called for backup."
Several other silver-coated mechs grabbed for the two minibots' arms; they both flailed and struggled in surprise, stunned from the attack and subsequent fall.
The band of silver bots were literally dragging them, kicking and flailing, for the still standing swirling mass in the distance. They didn't get more than halfway there before a small explosion -- a blaster fire -- erupted within the ground between the would-be kidnappers and the portal in question.
A very pink femme wielding a very large gun stood on what was left of the same cliff the minibots had been standing on, she fired again, this time at the silver mechs themselves, taking obvious care not to hit the two Autobots.
"For the.." The Jazz look-alike snarled a very deep, very un-Jazz like snarl. "Get in to the slagging gate, all of you!"
The pink femme blasted at the ground in front of the silver ones again, blocking and delaying the escape. Bumblebee realized exactly what she -- and, in a strange bout of humor, hoped it was a femme and not a mech with a poor choice in paint color -- was doing. She was simply trying to buy time for the rest of the Autobots to get there.
The femme obviously knew what she was doing; silver-painted attacks were met with swift dodging and quick bouts of return fire. The strategy of blocking the escape route with firepower did appear to be working; in fact, for a full half joor, the single femme kept the battle at a stalemate just long enough for the loud roar of multiple engines to rend the air.
"Finally!" The femme, oddly, could be heard over the roar, seconds before Autobot fire came down on the silver squadron.
The Jazz look-alike growled in frightening fury. He turned and ran for the swirling circle, followed hurriedly by the rest of his men. This time, it appeared Murphy's Law was working against the kidnappers; just as the two minibots were about to be dragged through, something else came out of the portal and slammed in to the mechs that had been dragging them along. It seemed to cause some panic; Bumblebee and Cliffjumper were rapidly dropped and left behind as their would-be capturers ran through.
A trio of unrecognizable bots -- at least, unrecognizable in the current firepower surrounding them -- were running away from the fight in nothing short of sheer, absolute and visible terror. One of them -- a seeker -- fell with a shriek of pain as a blast met him in the back; another -- with very organic looking wings -- stopped to help the fallen, grabbing the seeker to drag him off.
At least two of the silver-painted bots refused to leave empty handed. A pair of identical monochrome dopplegangers of Sunstreaker managed to grab the third -- a complete identical duplicate of Ratchet with the familiar red and white paint -- and pulled him back through the portal. The Ratchet duplicate screamed in panic and flailed, but failed in his endeavor to escape; once he and the last of the bizarre invaders were in the swirling mass, the portal closed, vanishing with a bright light as if it never had existed.
"Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, are you both all right?!" The real Jazz ran up to the stunned pair of minibots.
"Yeah.. Yeah, we're, uh.. Fine." Bumblebee seemed to be in shock. "..What just happened?" The pink mech that had single-handedly saved them both ran by, ignoring the Autobots entirely, towards the two that had come out of the portal. The yellow minibot stared. "..Is that Arcee?"
It did appear to be the familiar pink femme, although her very body language seemed off-kilter. She bent over the two nearby mechs; the seeker appeared to be offline, and the other -- with a face that looked startlingly like a canine even in robot form -- was shaking profusely in clear panic, holding the seeker in his lap. Arcee spoke quietly with the shaking mech, but whatever she was saying didn't appear to help.
After several seconds, she hurriedly got back up and rushed to the Autobots. "Who's in command, here?"
The incredulity on multiple faces spoke to how stupid a question it was; Optimus Prime stepped forward with some suspicion. "You aren't Arcee."
"Technically not, no." The femme took in a deep breath, speaking fast. "I'll explain everything once we get somewhere safe, but those two are heavily injured and need repairs and they need them now. They may look similar to enemies you have, but I assure you that they're not, and I would really, really like it if they didn't both die right now."
The request seemed sincere, even frustrated; Prime thought it over for only a second. "Let's get them to the Ark."
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Much to the surprise of the Autobots still within the Ark and a particular pink femme, Arcee had passed by herself following Optimus Prime on the way in. The doppleganger didn't so much as glance to her other self, as if this was all absolutely normal.
The unsurprised Arcee, however, did seem nervous. Not quite worried or frightened, but the sort of terror that strikes sparklings after they had done something particularly naughty, or students before the night of an exam.
Only those that had been at the bizarre battle -- the minibots and their would-be rescuers -- and high ranking Autobots were allowed in the large room ordinarily used specifically for high ranking meetings. A large, long table stood in the center of the room, surrounded by a number of chairs. There weren't enough chairs for those in attendance, but the strange pink femme was allowed to sit near Optimus himself.
"What, exactly, happened back there?" Prime seemed to be frowning behind his face mask.
"I'll start from the top." The pink femme sighed softly. "My name is Arcee. Though, I noticed I have a double here, so you can call me 'Saturnia'. If there's another with that designation, make something up, I don't particularly care." For a moment, she appeared frustrated, but it quickly melted in to a stoic demeanor. "I'll have to ask you to suspend your disbelief for a moment, because this will likely sound insane and impossible, but I assure you it's truth. Two words, Optimus Prime; alternate reality."
Several chuckles met her audio receptors, and she looked sharply to the crowd. "If you want to give me a better explanation --"
"Decepticons!" Cliffjumper quickly piped up.
"For once, no." Saturnia shook her head. "I am, technically, a version of your Arcee. I'm from a place we called, simply, Central. My allies and I are supposed to watch over the realities and make sure they don't meet each other, but, as you can tell, we failed spectacularly in our recent endeavors."
Now, she appeared to be ranting, volume raising ever so slightly as she went on.
"Those silver boys you saw out there? An amalgamation of multiple realities. Some aftplate has been going around and kidnapping people and brainwashing them, and we don't know who's behind it. Somehow, they've managed to do it entirely under our radar without other worlds catching sight of who's been doing it. I wouldn't be here, and neither would you two friends here, if one of my brothers hadn't spotted that invasion back there by accident!"
There was stunned silence; Saturnia took in a long, deep intake, optic twitching slightly as she forced herself to calm down. "..Sorry. At any rate, I wouldn't ordinarily even be allowed to tell you any of this if we didn't have those two escapees. They're the only two we've ever seen or heard of, and they're invaluable to our entire mission to stop whoever is doing this." She looked to a quiet Optimus Prime. "An army is amassing, Prime. We don't know who's in command of it or what they want. I don't ask that you and yours involve yourself if it's unneeded, but those.. Silvers might come back and I need those two injured bots repaired."
Again, silence reigned; if the pink femme was telling the truth, it was incredible and terrifying.
"How can we believe any of that?" A shocked Hound, jaw hung, asked what everyone was thinking.
"Really, you don't have to." Saturnia sighed. "You can either believe me or not. All I ask is that those two are repaired and to keep your eyes out of the Silvers come back. After that, I'll take them back where they came from. Other than that.. I really don't care."
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But there is a light
There's still a spark
There is no place in this room for the dark
-- 'Man with no Country', Flogging Molly
Author notes: I don't know where the hell this is going. :D