Note: This looks familiar, right? Yeah, another deleted and then reuploaded story from me. Kind of how I want to start fresh with some things. I'm kind of going over some of my abandoned stories and trying to maybe do something with them, as I'm in the process of rewriting one of my ongoing ones now.

This one is something of a project and sort of little universe I've sort of made for myself, in the sense that I had a series of stories that took place in this universe, which is something of a hodgepodge of various universes and incarnations of Transformers media. While it's heavily influenced from G1 (my favorite even with its various and glaring flaws at times, that animation being an example), it had elements of G2, the comic incarnations of GI, Armada, Energon, Animated, the Movies (aka Bay-verse) and a little bit of Beast Wars.

And while it may not ever get entirely shown, let alone fully executed, I must admit that since putting up my first attempt at writing it in 2014 (and putting it up in 2016), along with my Maverick Hunter Roll story, I want to at least finish what I can. Hell, maybe it might lead to me branching out and getting back into becoming more productive again.

Anyhow, with that explanation out of the way, here's the prologue of my little contribution to the Transformers fandom, and here's hoping that you guys find it decent enough to want more!

Prologue: Descent from Above

Transformers © of Hasbro

They had begun to fall.

That was, regrettably on his part, one of the later sensations he had become aware of. Mostly due to his current aggressor's continuous and unrelenting barrage of blows and forceful attacks against his frame. In fact, he wasn't even sure that the sudden shift in gravity he experienced was real, as a good majority of his foe's assaults had been directed at his head. Yet upon seeing the other sparing and warring mechs around him begin to tumble and lose their footing, he realized that their vessel being invaded by an enemy faction was now the least of their worries.

"Optimus!? Do you still read me?! Optimus, please! Answer!"

Odd, considering all that was going on, her voice still resonated with him as she called to him over the com-link. 'Forgive me, Elita.' the masked commander mentally stated, the only thing to exit through his vocals being that of grunts and raged cries as he and his self-appointed opponent continued to charge and attempt to bring him down.

The femme on the other line, initially, had been nothing short of ecstatic, as well as her own company and other commanders that had gathered to hear. Finally, at long last, after all these stellar-cycles, these orns of having to scavenge off whatever small bits of energy they could find, a miracle. Not just for them, but perhaps all of Cybertron. Located not but a few star systems away, a planet had been detected and confirmed to be rich with viable sources of energy. Indeed, as the Teletraan 1 scanned the planet's surface, sending a few sky spies down to further inspect it (though this came with the discovery the atmosphere of said planet was quite thick), it was confirmed by these scans that the planet was rich with minerals. All that was left to do was to connect back to Iacon, the distance thankfully not affecting the signal's clarity, and give their fellow Autobots the coordinates. Truly, it seemed that after all this time of little progress being made on either side; Primus Himself had decided to smile upon them.

Though perhaps due to the elation that he and his squad were experiencing, all potential possibilities of danger were erased from their minds, even if just for a few, brief moments. In retrospect, Optimus Prime should've known far better, especially in the possibility that they were being followed.

Just as the coordinates had been delivered and the connection about to be severed, the first barrage of fire was set upon the Ark. Cries of 'Decepticons!' and 'We're under attack!' echoed throughout the ship, many of the crewmen theorizing that their enemies had been trailing them this entire time. And as if to further confirm this theory, the inhabitants of the aggressing Nemesis, once it drew close enough, all the while keeping the Ark subdued with its firepower, wasted no time in boarding the vessel with the intent to dispose of all inside. No other option was available but to do battle. Even if it was far from a drawn-out endeavor, the suddenness of the ambush made it feel as such. Prime held no idea of how many of his mechs were either badly damaged or perhaps even terminated, as much as the latter possibility chilled him to his spark, yet during the collective skirmish, it was only after he had been thrust back against a control panel that he felt the entire Ark move.

It had them all.

Despite there being clear attempts to continue, the fighting was mostly ceased whether they wished for it or not, the sudden, sharp shift in gravity and angle of the environment soon affected Autobot and Decepticon alike. Now the collective battle had transformed into one over who could claim ownership over which random object they could grab to keep themselves from being tossed around. Thankfully, this translated to Prime and his aggressor as well, yet despite this, the equally sized, grey mech still attempted to try and dislodge his hold on the control panel.

"HANG ON!" Optimus hollered through his mask, the facial piece far from affecting his volume, yet the tremendous amount of friction they were all experiencing did him little favors. "GRAB ONTO WHATEVER YOU CAN! ANYTHING! BUT NO MATTER WHAT, DON'T LET GO!"

As if to challenge not only him, yet all aboard, the planet seemingly drew the explorational ship closer. Down, down, down they fell, the Prime's optics unable to see anything other than blazing, roaring heat. Everything had turned red, then lightening more and more until he was overcome with a blinding, all-encompassing white. White...then blue. Deep, dark blue. Or perhaps indigo, he wasn't entirely sure, his senses all but just barely there. Soft, vaporous anomalies passed them by at an alarming speed, the Ark tearing through a good portion of them, fogging up the screen's glass and leaving him with no indication of which direction they were heading. If it weren't for the current situation that he and his troops were in, he'd be able to appreciate the unfamiliar beauty he was bearing witness to.

How long, or better yet, how far they had all fallen, Prime knew not. Yet he could at least hypothesize that they were at least past the planet's atmosphere. Wherever they ended up, and whether they'd even be in proper shape to continue their defense against their invaders would have to be accounted for later. For now, at the very least, he could guide his troops to keep themselves holding tight to whatever they could and not letting go. He had to hold on, they had to hold on. They all had to-

"WAIT! NO! NO! BEE!"

"JAZZ! HELP ME!"

That voice. Optimus knew all the voices of his squad that had accompanied him on this trip, yet the one that had just screamed for help...better yet, the sound of something unhitching and being set open...oh no. Oh no!

How it had happened, let alone if whether it was intentional, it mattered not in the moment. For now, it was clear that, whether by accident or some last ditch effort to get in the final say, one of his own was in danger of being sucked out through the now open hatch of the Ark. Seeing as the two of them were near the front, it'd be far from likely he'd be able to do much, yet with a quick sucker punch to his aggressor's helm, he was able to momentarily be free from his ever present grip and, with much hindrance, work his way towards the rear of the vessel.

It was far from a leisurely ride the moment the Ark began its descent, yet for the most part, at least that was the worst of it. He didn't know how it got open, as it seemed that there was no one able or willing to even try, so the most likely bet was that it was a rather heavy piece of equipment that had gotten dislodged and either hit or destroyed the switch. Now the smaller Autobot had to not only keep himself from getting sucked out by the tremendous suction, but dodging whatever else was coming his way. He had managed to get ahold of a damaged portion of the ceiling, said damage caused by the earlier battle with the invading enemy force, yet even the pipe he had managed to wrap his servos around did him little good.

It was only when he had managed to swing ever so slightly out of the way of an incoming control panel did Bumblebee notice that someone was reaching for him. "HANG ON THERE, SCOUT!" his (hopefully) to be savior shouted, his baritone voice deeply accented with a drawl, his grey servos desperately reaching for the smaller, yellow colored Autobot's arm.

His position was the closest to the scout, hanging onto a pipe stationed through the ceiling and floor, yet still, it wasn't close enough. If he lost his footing in any way, they'd both be sent flying out to Primus knew where, and probably directly to Him if they somehow didn't manage to get completely mangled by the drop. Yet even then, he knew well that it wouldn't be long before whatever Bumblebee had managed to snag onto would-

SNAP!

It was far from becoming of him, especially for one that was part of Prime's squadron, yet the scout couldn't help but obey the compelling need to release a terror-ridden scream from his vocals as he felt his form forcibly dragged backward. This was it, nothing could save him now. Nothing...but the sudden hand that had seized him by the wrist.

"PRIME, SIR!"

"AGH!" as relieved as he was to have reached him before being forcibly ejected, his weight alone wasn't enough. "IRONHIDE! HELP ME!"

Again, his reach wasn't close enough, yet now with his own superior and more on the line, the red mech let one leg move forward, his arm reaching and, thankfully, managing to grab ahold of the Prime's own extended appendage. The both were caught in a fierce battle with the intense and unrelenting force of suction that threatened to take either Bumblebee or all three of them out of the Ark. This prompted a good majority of their fellow Autobots to call for them to come back, that they'd leave their own places of sanctuary to assist their commander. Yet this was answered with a firm and unshaken command to stay where they were. Besides, even with how far he had come from the front, movement was far from easy.

"JUST...A LITTLE...MORE!" was what he had said through hidden, grinding dentals, yet in his mind, Optimus knew well that it'd take more than just him and Ironhide to successfully drag Bumblebee back into the ship.

And frankly, to his shame, the cables and wires that held his arm to his shoulder joint were being stretched and strained, a blast from a plasma rifle beginning to sound pleasant compare to the pressure his arm was being placed under. Just a little more...and either Bumblebee would at least have most himself back inside or his arm would be torn clean off.

Should he fall now...well, honestly, perhaps there was less of a chance that he'd be sent to the Well of All Sparks. They had come quite a distance from where they initially started, Prime able to see an enormous collection of tall, green flora of some kind, below. What they were exactly, he knew not, yet surely, they needed someplace solid to keep themselves in. The ground was close. Yet still, his assumption wasn't entirely sound. Immediate death or not, Bumblebee could still very well injure or maim himself from such a fall. If he could just put in a little more strength...if he could just give one, hard enough yank-

"PRIME!" Ironhide bellowed, his own dentals grinding to the point they were near cracking. "I CAN'T KEEP THIS UP FOR TOO MUCH LONGER!"

"JUST A LITTLE MORE!" Optimus commanded, practically begged his old friend. It wasn't fair on him, yet for now, he'd deal with that guilt later, for to his growing horror, he realized that his grip on the smaller scout was beginning to slip.

"SIR!" another cry, another plea, yet not from Ironhide. Turning towards the source, the larger mech was greeted with the large, fearful, blue optics of the desperate and petrified Autobot he and his old friend were fruitlessly trying to save. He hated himself for it, it was far from becoming of a soldier, let alone one under a Prime, yet still, Bumblebee found himself unable to stop. Gone was any sort of self-respect or image he was wishing to project, all he wanted was to not go out through the open hatch. "PLEASE!" the inevitable was inching ever and ever closer, yet it made him no closer to accepting it. "PLEASE SIR! I DON'T WANT TO DIE! NOT YET! NOT YET!"

'You won't!' he wished to say, the strain and pressure his body was under robbing him of any words. 'You won't, I promise you!' he couldn't hold on much longer. 'I... I won't let you go! I won't leave you.' those optics continued to silently plea and beg, that same panic shared now by the both as the others wide-eyed stare bored its way into the other. 'You'll be fine! I promise you! I promise I'll-'

"PRIME, LOOK OUT!"

He heeded his friend's warning a nano-click too late, yet even if he had reacted in time, it wouldn't have mattered. A pair of silver coated arms, the same arms that belonged to the one previously attacking him, seized him by the neck and forcibly dragging him back, putting the Autobot commander in a tight chokehold. It was only when he was dragged back did he realize that his hand had now become empty.

Optimus Prime had been unable to keep his word to the yellow scout. Those large, wide optics gazed deeply into his own, echoing the same, horrid realization of what had just happened.

Then he was gone.

2003, Pacific Time, 2:30 AM

From the thin, yet still present veil of unconsciousness, the young man was wrenched out, his reawakened senses alerting him that perhaps slipping off his pants would perhaps be in order, given the sweat developing on his smooth, peach colored brow. That and his bladder had to be emptied yet again.

Rising from his bed and making his way to the small bathroom nearest to him, he unsteadily stumbled and waddled in the dark, wasting no time in feeling for the light switch the moment he felt his hand contact the door frame coated in cracked, peeling paint. After a moment or two of his hand blinding waving around, his fingers finally came to seize a small object in between them, he then proceeding to flip it upward.

Though the moment he had done so, the young man was blinded yet again by the light that had overtaken the entire room. Thinking fast (as fast as his currently groggy mind could allow), he slipped in and shut the door behind him, trapping the light inside the bathroom. While there wasn't a for sure chance that it would've been enough to rouse the older man snoring, but a few rooms away, especially given how beat he already was upon returning home, the young man didn't want to take the chance of having the light potentially slip in and wake him.

God knew he needed the rest, for tomorrow, he'd be getting right up and doing it all over again.

It was then that his urinary track reminded him of why the young man had come here in the first place, he wasted no time in slipping down his pants and boxers and proceeding to release some of his…extra fluids.

After an oddly prolonged period of this, the young man finally felt relieved enough, he stood up off the toilet and pulled up the garments he slipped down, going over to the sink to then soap up and clean his hands. As the vanity mirror stationed above the sink presented, the young man in question was indeed young looking, perhaps what could've been referred to as 'baby-faced' to a degree. His features, while bearing distinctly masculine qualities, weren't exactly heavy in said qualities either. His chin held no broadness to it and his eyes were large and wide, holding deep irises of deep brown. His hair bore a similar color, short, yet holding small waves that also invoked something of a younger, more innocent age. His form was healthy enough, a slight bit of a stomach and some leftover 'baby fat' here and there, yet overall, the young man's form was slim and developed in all but noticeable muscle mass.

He remembered in Health that his text book noted this type of built as an 'ectomorph', little muscle mass, yet slim frame and tall limbs. If that were the case, then he had gotten robbed out of the last part, as even at his age, his father and a good portion of other young men still had a good few inches or so on him. Hell, he had come to believe that he had essentially stopped growing the moment he reached fifteen! His voice hadn't even gotten much deeper either. Even now, just when he was about to officially become a 'man', he still sounded as if he were stuck in a permanent slot between sounding like a child and an adult, a slot reserved for, at times it seemed, just for him.

At least, when the time came for him to don the cap and gown, he wasn't one of the few selected to give a speech about the supposedly 'glorious' future awaiting them all, he thought as he dried off his hands with the towel hanging next to the mirror.

Yeah, at least he didn't have to worry about that. Though still, the moment he would get up to go and collect the slip of paper cementing his thirteen year stay in the public education system, kindergarten to his present grade, it'd would also be the moment he would have to truly comprehend what that supposedly 'glorious' future meant for him.

Perhaps comprehend if it ever meant anything for him at all.

Then again, he had time still before then. The year wasn't complete yet, and now, he probably should've been shifting his thoughts to how much extra credit he could put in to at least bring his Algebra grade up to a C.

At least, he would've allowed his thoughts to shift to a more recent subject, if the young man hadn't suddenly become aware of the previously still surface beneath his feet beginning to shake.

Not just that, but everything that wasn't firmly planted to the ground and otherwise seemed to follow suit, himself included. The young man hadn't intended for it to happen, he simply wishing to perhaps open the door and lay down in the hallway, in an area where there wouldn't be as many objects potentially raining down on his head, the medicine cabinet behind the mirror currently being reduced to a mess of various pills and spilt bottles. Yet instead of going to the side, he found himself being tossed forward, the lights from above fading out and leaving him in complete darkness. His forehead contacted something smooth and cold, the sound of shattering glass ringing in his ears as he suddenly found that spot plagued with a sudden pain that sent him unintentionally stepping back and losing his footing, falling right into what he had assumed to be the bathtub.

"What the hell?!"

Well, the older man was up for sure now.

The door was closed, essentially keeping him from seeing anything going on, yet given from the shuffling and tearing through the nearby linen closet his ears picked up, the young man assumed that the recently awoken adult was on a rather eventful hunt for a flashlight. Also given from the suddenness of the bathroom door opening and his vision once again being assaulted with a flash of light, the handy thing had been found.

"Sam, is that you?!" the older man questioned, concern in his voice upon realizing whom was in here. "Sam!"

"Yeah, dad, I'm in here." The young man answered, attempting to lift himself out of the tub and out of his compromising position.

Just then, the lights flickered back on, albeit with brief periods of dimness, yet eventually, they went back to having their regular brightness. The older man that had just entered the bathroom turned off the handheld light, formerly tired eyes overlooking whatever damage that might've been cause by the sudden shake. It was then that he took notice to the cracked vanity above the sink, along with Sam seemingly cupping his forehead, a single, small trail of red liquid seeping out from his fingers.

"Oh God, Sam!" his father cried out, far from caring about the volume of his voice. By now, the shake probably woke up everyone in the entire apartment, perhaps even everywhere else in the Multnomah County.

Not even caring for the spare shards of glass underneath his bare soles, the older man quickly hoisted the boy up in his arms and made his way out of the bathroom, right back to the linen closet. Sam in turn shifted his eyes down to thankfully see that in his rush, his father hadn't just gotten himself a shard or two lodged in his foot. At least he hoped he hadn't, he himself not exactly having time to fully judge how many shards were on the floor, let alone how large or small they were. Of course, that observation brought with it a secondary possibility of whether a small splinter or two had somehow gotten itself stuck in his flesh, perhaps somewhere deeper in the cut that had just been inflicted on his forehead. True, the hospital was guaranteed to be open, even at this time of early morning, yet given he was but a few hours away of having to get up at six and head off straight away to a day of final exams, he didn't exactly want to have to put them off for later, his hatred for the single test that impacted one's final grade significantly notwithstanding.

Finally, after what seemed to be another endless session of rummaging, it seemed Sam's dad finally found what he was looking for. "Come on." He said, a package of bandages in one worn, callused hand and a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol in the other. "We'll use the other bathroom. Hopefully that one's still got itself a mirror."

The seismic tremor that shook the apartment complex and various other estates and abodes in St. Johns, Northern Portland was far from felt by just that section of the city, let alone all of Oregon. By the time it had hit, areas from the Hawthorne District to the Rose Quarter had all received the same shockwave, power being cut (for some, for a far longer period than that of St. Johns), objects being sent down to make a mess on the once perfect cleaned floors (give or take the location's standard sanitary conditions), and while property damage was surprisingly low, there were still quite a few things here and there that were either broken off their hinges or sent flying a good few feet.

Still, despite the damage and overall unexpectedness of it all, it seemed that, at least to the residents of Portland Oregon, the terror was short-lived and for now, hopefully over. Yes, some businesses might've had to close for the day or must manage their schedules around whatever damage that had been caused that night, yet for the most, at least the general populous assumed such, that life would continue as normal come morning.

Some of the older residents, however, couldn't find it in themselves to dismiss the tremor, and the concern held little connection over how little or much damage had been done to their own person and/or property. And the concerns didn't simply extend to live-long residents of the city either, a good portion of those that looked outside the structures of steel and metal towards the dense, thick greenery outside had just come to Portland no later than the 1980s. It was also something of a bizarre coincidence as well, for not but a few months into the year 1980, in the heat of another dry summer and but fifty miles of Portland itself, the skies of the Skamania County would darken and be consumed in a dense collection of smoke and ash.

In that summer of 1980, one of the members of the Pacific Ring of Fire, roused by an avalanche of debris triggered in turn by a powerful seismic movement, had awoken.

The eruption of Mount St. Helens was nothing short of a terrifying yet undeniably captivating spectacle to behold for not just the residents of Oregon and Washington, garnering the attention of all the country, Presidents Jimmy Carter commenting that the surface of the barren Moon was far more pleasant compared to the carnage left its wake, and Ronald Regan established a 110,000 acre national monument during his presidency, a testament to what had occurred and for the fifty-plus lives lost.

Twenty-four years had passed since the mountain's demonstration of its destructive power, twenty-four years since the once vibrant forestry that lay close to the base of the towering monument of stone were wrenched from the soil and the ground on the south side of the natural formation was left barren, still recovering from the damage done. And while there was a good fifty-mile distance between the good people of Portland and the mountain, the reports and news coming in that those located closer to it also experienced the sudden quake, suffice to say, concerns began to rise that night, the question on whether to begin packing up and trekking off to the next county a near irresistible temptation.

This sentiment, whilst unknown to both Oregon and Washington, was shared by that one-hundred and sixty-seven miles away…

The state of Oregon seemed to be hit quite hard by something unseen that night, yet unlike those residing in Portland, the rattled citizens of Coos Bay looked outward towards the Pacific Ocean for their answer.

Mount St. Helens was of less concern than the potential of rising waters and flooding to follow, especially given that, unlike those in Portland, this tremor seemed to emit from near the coastline than from some far-off volcano that, should it erupt, its effects would probably never reach them.

The small town of Charleston was immediately shaken up and had people stepping out of their homes, heads and eyes turning in the direction of the nearby ocean with a collection of emotions ranging from befuddlement and confusion to sheer terror and perhaps a small twinge of excitement developing within them. Similar occurrences to those in Portland, unknownst to the general populous, occurred here as well. Though given the smaller area of the town, the power outage lasted a good deal longer there, and with a few key differences in landscape and worries of what the strange, unforeseen quake would bring, the inhabitants of both Portland and the North Coast would soon come to realize that both seismic movements were both neither that, and even more, hailed from two very similar, very otherworldly sources.

And those very sources would indivertibly, hold the very fate of this familiar, populated, yet fragile and small planet in their hands.

Soon, that very planet would come to discover that indeed, from beyond the heavens and beyond the stars, beyond the very planets, moons, galaxies, and clusters, there was more, so much more that they had yet to see, let alone even begin to understand.

Soon, all would come to see that there was indeed more than meets the eye.

Note: It was a bit of a minor change, yet instead of Mount St. Hilary, I changed the location to Mount St. Helens, as given the location of the story (of which was the location in the comics according to the TFWiki), a real-life location seemed to mesh better. Plus, the initial landing site was going to be Mount St. Helens before they went with a fictionalized landmark.

To begin this, given the title and summary, this is going to be something of a re-telling of the 3-parter pilot of the original 1984 cartoon, More Than Meets the Eye. Though given this doesn't have to abide by 'kid-friendly' mandates, I can do a little more than simply have the humans thrown around like a couple of bloodless rag-dolls. Granted, I won't make it TOO violent and gory, let's just say that there's going to be more than a little bit of blood (and energon).

Also, don't worry, I'll go further into the Transformers as it goes on, I sort of wanted it to start off in the sense of how not only is the situation new for the humans, it's also new for the Autobots and Decepticons as well. I wanted it to begin as these groups steadily discovering each other and learning about the other, yet while it might be a bit human-centric at first, the story does mainly revolve around the Transformers, and don't worry, Cybertron and those left there will be involved, if this continues.

If you like what you've seen so far, say so and here's hoping you'll be interested in more!