Transformers: The Chronicles Chapter 1

So this is the first chapter in a tale that I'm planning to stretch at least five-million years of the war. In general I'm following the Generation One/ IDW comics appearances/ personalities for the 'bots, so just imagine their classic looks in your head when a familiar name pops up. And there'll be quite a lot, after all in five-million years worth of war lots and lots of people are going to kick it. We, of course, start off at the beginning, before the spark that ignites the war. Cybertron seems relatively peaceful on the surface, but resentment, as with most societies, is bubbling under the surface. And I'm sure you can guess who sets things into motion. Maybe. Who knows. Anyway, enjoy.

5,000,000 years ago

Iacon

A revolution was coming.

Perceptor stood at his computer screen, too engrossed in what he was doing to sit down. As he typed on the large keyboard Cybertronian equations flashed across the blue screen that took up half the wall of his laboratory. He knew he was getting closer and closer to working out the formula for creating a synthetic energon that would be ten times as nourishing as its natural counterpart. Already a renowned scientist in Iacon this breakthrough that was within his grasp would make him a celebrity overnight. Not that Perceptor cared for such things, he was more than content with the knowledge that the outcome of his work would help the millions of transformers that lived, worked and played on his home world of Cybertron.

Behind him he heard the heavy footsteps of his superior, and reluctantly drew himself away from his station. Turning he was greeted with the sight of the one-opticed head of science, Shockwave himself. Perceptor lowered his head in deference, a habit he couldn't help while being in the presence of such a great transformer. Shockwave bid him to cease with a flick of his left hand, and Perceptor did so.

'I trust you have made progress,' Shockwave said, his voice as always the epitome of neutrality.

Perceptor smiled. He could never imagine a time when he wouldn't revel the opportunity to explain his work to others. 'Indeed I have sir. I do believe I located the previous problem that had been troubling me so. If you would care to look?' Turning back to his computer he tapped seemingly at random on his keyboard, bringing up a new set of equations that would have fried any regular transformers neural circuits. Shockwave, however, was not one of them. 'As you can see,' Preceptor continued, 'the mathematics suggest that it was in fact the cratialectra molecules effecting the bonding process and not, as I had previously surmised, the eleioten molecules. I believe that removing the electrons of the cratialectra molecules would cease their interference with the bonding process, while also allowing them to remain and continue to improve the energy output.'

Shockwave stood beside Perceptor and followed the equations for himself. In the silence that followed Perceptor couldn't help but became increasingly worried. Though he was confident in his skills there always remained a part of him that was afraid he had missed something, something that would be obvious to a transformer as great and intellectual as Shockwave. Again and again he scanned his own equations, expecting to see some error jump out at him and prove he was not worthy of Shockwave's patronage.

Eventually Shockwave pointed at the numbers in the top right corner. 'That is it Perceptor,' he said, his voice sounding as excited as it could ever hope to. Turning, he placed his hand on Perceptor's left shoulder, and it took all of the younger transformer's willpower to stop himself grinning like a lunatic. He knew all too well that Shockwave looked down upon public outbursts of emotion like that. 'Perceptor, I was correct to take you under my tutelage. I do not think even I would have noticed that.'

'Ah… no, I'm sure…' Perceptor stammered until Shockwave cut him off.

'I do not enjoy flattery Perceptor, do not try.' Withdrawing his hand to his side he continued, 'You are close now I can see. A few more weeks?' Perceptor knew that his superior's words weren't just a question, but a guideline for what was expected of him.

Nervously he nodded in assent. 'Yes… it should not be long now, sir.'

'Good. See to it that it is not.' With that Shockwave left his subordinate to his work, something said subordinate was more than happy to do, the knowledge that it would be his work changing the lives of millions driving him onward.

'Look at that!' a raspy voice cried out, slamming a balled hand onto his keyboard. Grumbling, he walked back and forth in front of his own computer screen, too disgusted to watch the scenes unfolding on it any further.

'I still wish you wouldn't do this Starscream,' a second voice said, its owner sitting on a desk with various tools and implements strewn on it. 'It's not ethical to be spying on a fellow scientist's work.'

'Pffft, nonsense Jetfire,' Starscream said, waving a dismissive hand. 'There's no ethics in science, only discoveries, and right now that little upstart is hijacking ours!'

Jetfire sighed. Two solar cycles previously Shockwave, head of science in Iacon, declared that any scientist that could perfect a formula for synthetic energon would be given an honoured place on his board and a grant of five-million credits. If Starscream were capable of salivating he would have done so when he heard the challenge, and Jetfire and he had set about trying to accomplish the monumental task. Unfortunately they hadn't gotten very far, and in his growing frustration Starscream had built small drones undetectable by most security systems to spy on their competition. It had been Perceptor Starscream had decided to monitor the closest, for it was the young protégé of Shockwave that had made the most progress. Seeing that Perceptor had almost completed the formula while they still couldn't stabilise their concoction before it blew up in their faces angered Starscream to no end. And an angry Starscream was one prone to increasingly absurd outbursts, which was far from a pleasant to experience for Jetfire.

'How can he always be one step ahead when I am the superior scientist?' Starscream directed to no one in particular.

Jetfire shrugged. 'I'd say several steps ahead myself.'

Starscream glared at his friend for a moment before returning to his pacing. 'How can it be the cratialectra molecules? How would removing their electrons help? How?!'

'I don't know,' Jetfire replied. 'Maybe this is a good time to call it quits, I know most of the others attempting it have.'

'No!' Starscream cried out, slamming his hand on his keyboard again. He yelped and jumped back as sparks flew from the impact. His head darted around, making sure that nobody saw it, only for his optics to alight on a smirking Jetfire. 'Don't you dare,' he sneered.

'Fine, I won't laugh,' Jetfire assured his friend, though his mouth quivered as he struggled to wipe the smile off his face.

'Good.' Starscream switched off the monitor, no longer in the right mood to watch the prospect of five-million credits disappearing right in front of his eyes. 'I'm going out,' he said, passing by Jetfire and opening the door to their workshop, 'don't touch anything while I'm out.'

Jetfire shrugged, 'I wouldn't dream of it Starscream.' As soon as the door closed behind his colleague Jetfire got to work analysing the cratialectra molecule in their energon concoction.

Starscream wandered through the back alleys of Iacon. Here the light of the city refused to penetrate. Towering blocks of greys and browns obscured the sunlight from the inhabitants, while breeding the perfect conditions for the underbelly of Cybertron's capital city to flourish. From between shabby buildings lurked transformers who thought nothing of snuffing out another's spark for a couple of credits. As always Starscream kept his wits about him as he prowled through the dingy, winding paths. He hated living in such a place. He knew all too well that a transformer of his abilities was far too good to be living with the filth of the planet, but times had hit him and Jetfire hard and the only place they could afford was a small warehouse in the poorest district of Iacon. This was meant to have been his way out, yet every avenue they ventured down ended up blocked off by a new problem, an impossible equation or something neither of them could figure out. Starscream cursed as he turned a corner, why did things always conspire against him?

'Spare any energon sir?' came the croaky voice of a yellow transformer sat slumped against the wall of a building. He outstretched a hopeful hand upwards. Starscream grimaced at the sight, he was missing his right optic, his left arm and half of his left leg.

'Why don't you just do Cybertron a favour and expire already?' he said, kicking the transformer. The beggar cursed after him as he carried on. Starscream had no time for such things and so after a few seconds the event no longer mattered to him.

Eventually he found himself outside the local dive. Even from outside he could hear the rowdy shouting from the patrons of the tavern. Starscream shook his head, he hated visiting such a place, but it was the hangout of the transformer he wished to find. Sighing he pushed the button by the entrance and the doors slid open. He entered unnoticed, weaving his way through the multiple tables and drunken clientele until he was at the bar. With a clearing of his throat and a wave he caught the attention of the bar-bot, who provided him with his usual 'pure oil' which, by even the quickest of glances, was far from pure. Starscream swirled it in his cup from where he sat at a stool by the bar, looking around for the bot he was searching for. When his gaze landed on the one-opticed transformer he tossed the oil down his throat, coughing at its rather unpalatable taste, and went over to his table.

'Whirl,' he called over the noise of the bar.

Whirl was sat with two other transformers Starscream took little notice of. They were hangers on, lackeys, irrelevant for his purposes, for now at least. It was the blue, rather angular transformer with acuboid for a head and a singular, red optic in the centre that he had come to see.

'Watcha want?' Whirl challenged, pointing a finger at Starscream with the hand that wasn't grasping a large pitcher of 'pure oil'.

Ignoring the question of how Whirl would drink such a thing given he had no mouth, at least not that Starscream knew of, Starscream spoke. 'I've come because I want your… unique services.'

'Oh?' Whirl said. 'All us boys know that you don't have any credits Starscream.' Suddenly he started laughing a crazed laugh that left Starscream feeling rather uneasy. Whirl's drinking buddies joined in only for Whirl to stop just as suddenly as he'd started. 'Who said either of you could laugh?' Both took the hint and looked down into their cups. 'Now, Screamer,' he said, putting his pitcher down on the circular table in front of him and placing his hands behind his cuboid head, what do ya want of me?'

Looking past the usage of 'Screamer', a nickname Starscream didn't care for, Starscream answered. 'I have this problem. There's the scientist called Perceptor, I want you to break into his lab and steal a formula he's working on.

'A formula eh? And what do I get for this service?'

'Five-hundred thousand credits,' Starscream said begrudgingly.

'Eh?' Whirl sat forward. 'Where in Primus' name would ya get money like that from, huh?'

'Just trust me Whirl, if I can get this formula I can get you that five-hundred thousand.'

'Really? Then if this formula's worth so much what'll stop me from getting that much for it, huh?'

Despite his attempts to not show his annoyance Starscream began to flex his fingers rhythmically, a habit he'd picked up at some point he couldn't quite remember. 'Because, it would be easier to tie the theft to you you dolt, and trust me, you do not want to cross Shockwave, do you?'

Whirl's two lackeys looked nervously between each other, then at their leader. Shockwave's name was famous all across the planet for his sway with the High Council and his logical efficiency, which usually meant that any bot that got in his way would end up either in Karn's gladiator pits, on the scrap heap or, if the rumours were to be believed, as test subjects for his newest scientific scheme.

'If it involves that maniac I ain't interested,' Whirl said, picking up his pitcher again. Without warning a compartment in the centre of his chest opened up, and it was into there that he poured the oil, sighing with joy as he emptied the pitcher's contents into himself.

'Oh, so that's how you drink,' Starscream muttered to himself.

'What?' Whirl snapped as his chest compartment closed.

'I'll tell you why you should be interested,' Starscream said hastily, trying to cover up his outward thinking, 'five-hundred thousand credits will get you out of this place. You could go wherever you want, start up a criminal empire, whatever. You can't just turn your back on that kind of money.'

Whirl brought his hand up to what was possibly his chin.

'Don't think about it boss,' said one of his lackeys, 'if Shockwave catches us we'll be turned into lampposts!'

'Hey, my sister was a lamppost!' Whirl shouted, punching his follower in the face. The bot tumbled off his chair and collided into someone behind him, who turned and stared daggers at the offender. With one hand he picked up Whirl's bot around the throat.

'What do you think you're doing?' the offended transformer said at the squirming bot in his grasp.

'Oi,' Whirl said, getting to his feet, 'hands off there pal, he's mine.'

The offended transformer flinched when he heard Whirl's voice. 'Oh sorry, I didn't see you there Whirl,' he said, letting go of Whirl's lackey, who shuffled to his boss' side. The third of Whirl's troupe promptly joined them. The offended transformer threw his hands up. 'Sorry, an honest mistake.'

'Sure, sure, no hard feelings,' Whirl replied congenially. 'Everyone makes mistakes.' The offended bot smiled and went back to talk to his friends only for a gunshot to ring out through the tavern, bringing a deathly silence over the place. The bot's friends store in disbelief at the smoke spiralling upwards from where their friend's head had been mere seconds ago. Passed the smoke stood Whirl, a gun in his hand. 'What,' he began in mock confusion, 'why are you lot staring at me like that? My finger slipped, an honest mistake.'

'What are you doing?!' Starcream squealed, grabbing Whirl by the shoulder before his neural security had time to tell him such a thing was probably a bad idea. Before Whirl turned the gun on him however the bar-bot called out to them from across the tavern. Everyone turned to see he was no longer simply a small, basic, unassuming droid but now outfitted with at least sixteen different sized guns coming from every place on his body, all pointed at Whirl and his group, which, much to Starcream's horror, he was clearly being included in.

'I don't want any gun trouble in here. Get out!'

'All right, all right,' Whirl said, putting his gun back in a concealed compartment in his forearm before putting his hands up, 'I can see where I'm not wanted. C'mon boys. You too Starscream, our little chat ain't finished.'

Slowly they left the tavern behind, and as soon as the doors had closed behind them the revelry continued, despite the still smoking corpse stood in the corner. Whirl made down the dark alleyway, his two lackeys following on his heels. As much as it annoyed him to follow suit Starscream did so, reluctant to walk by Whirl's side in case the notoriously unstable bot decided to turn his gun on him again.

'So, Screamer,' Whirl began after they gone down a third street, 'how am I gonna pull this off then? I think I'm a little tired of this dump now, I want a change and five-hundred thousand credits would be nice money to play with, you know?'

Starscream smiled and he drew alongside Whirl, finally comfortable enough to put his suspicions of meeting the wrong end of the red-opticed transformer aside. 'Don't worry Whirl, I've already thought of everything. Now, first you have to know…'