Synopsis: Cybertron lies dead beneath their feet, even as the war continues to rage on. Now as a message from their leader is received a group of Autobots begin their travel to a planet called earth. Of course, getting there is going to be half the challenge with Decepticons and various hazards of space travel to encounter. Will this group of fourteen make it there or will some of them become yet another casualty in this journey?
Disclaimer: Last I looked I wasn't Michael Bay, so nope definitely not going to claim ownership of any kind outside of some of the toys staring at me from their positions on my desk.
Basic Notes: This is my NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) project that is going to be slow to update for even though I hit 50k with it back in November it wasn't completely coherent or even readable in some sections. Add I skipped around in the timeline as well also means I have to go through and write additional scenes and chapters to tie others together in some sort of cohesive fashion. This mother is probably going to be huge. This is also an AU of the 07/09 Movies with G1 characters adapted to fit in, and some random background OC's.
General Story Wide Warnings: Mentions of torture, fighting, experimentation, death, Cybertronian style cursing, TF style gore, detail depictions of dying, torture, experimentation, and other not nice things done to sentient robots. This story isn't going to be hearts and fluffy bunnies and will deviate far from such hopes the further we get in. This is not a happy bonding experience and these mechs who are up there as my favorite mechs from G1 and various other cartoon incarnations are not going to be leaving this story unscathed or even fully operational. (The more I love them the more I torture them) So please bear this in mind before you come at me for it.
The metal world, once glittering brightly with the lights of vibrant cities and teeming with life, lays practically dead as it floats in its set path within the universe. The gleaming metal now dull and blackened in many places with what can only be scorched marks of various weapons and explosives that has caked and layered the ground, that some have forgotten how the planet had once looked beneath the layers of grime, energon, and coolant fluids. Buildings that had once seem to pierce the sky to the optics of the ones who had walked amongst them in times of peace, now crumble and represent nothing more then twisted pieces of metal and other materials; either to be harvested by scavengers or act as hiding places or hindrances to those who still creep along the deserted streets in clashes that are becoming increasingly more inane as time wears on. The planet of Cybertron has fallen so far that at times it almost seems like a myth that there had once been a golden era for this planet. When there was no dividing line between the inhabitants in the form of faction and ideology.
One particular city a grand testament of the violent change in the very way that the Cybertronian life has gone.
The city of Iacon, the once great capital of Cybertron and the center of society, with the Allspark housed in its own special place near the hall of elders. Where once the Council had met and debated laws and edicts that were supposed to help and bring all unto equal ground. Now laid to waste, both buildings bombed skeletons reaching up to the sky and darkened with ash and soot, even as the odd acid rain begins to build clouds to unleash its contents upon the exposed metal. The downpour slowly eating away at any living thing that was not under cover by the time the strongest point of the downpour began. A lone turbofox, almost skeletal in appearance darting almost fearfully between the buildings being a jarring sight in the still landscape as it searches and hides from both the rain and instinctual fear of what may be out there waiting. While half a cycle travel to the west the city of Polyhex gave another feeling. Deep as it was in Decepticon hands; Shockwave's seemingly endless army of drones creeping and skittering over the ruins of the great trade city; somehow creating an even deeper feeling of death and forlorn hope with their erratic movements.
However, it is not the cities and their now silent streets that will draw an unknown observer's optical units. No it will be the pockets beyond the broken civilizations that will bring the curious. With the soft khiss of laser rifles being discharged and the deep rumbling booms of explosives and larger fire arms, alongside the flashes of light from the discharging weapons. First here, then there in the night cycle as the wielders move and weave to avoid being hit while trying to take down those across the invisible line separating the groups. The bright blaze of blue and red light solidifying into the glow of optics used by these large mechanical creatures to see by. The silence of the cities now lost in the tumulus of weapons and the natural sounds of these sentient machines as their gears and pieces move and spat electrical signals, even as hydraulics hiss and pop with each frenzied movement.
The chaos seeming to affect all as they push the boundaries between each side like an ebbing and flowing of an ocean on more organic planets. Few seeming to acknowledge the distant clouds heralding an acid storm, even as the large amounts of electrical discharge from the seething clouds set various sensors on edge or even to slightly malfunction from the energy overload. The encroaching storm instead of making the fighting slow down, instead sends it into an even greater frenzy as now the fight for sufficient cover is at hand as well. The last few shots given just as the first fat drops fall to the ground and begin to sizzle as the acid reacts with the metal, and then even that is drowned out with the typical roar as the world is nothing more then a sheet of falling acid.
"Sensors down, we're not going to be tracking them for at least another joor unless this rain lets up quicker then what was predicted."
"Someone get me a welder over here, Livewire doesn't look like he's going to be able to self repair that wound."
"Primary energon pump failing!"
"Slagging Decepticons got Bullseye."
"Medic!"
"Don't give up on me yet you fragger. You can shake that off and be out busting Decepticon helms in no time."
The crowded hallways were a sight out of a bad dream that has become reality more and more to those within it. The wounded sitting or leaning against walls as the few mechs and femmes bearing the red medic symbol performed triage, often times not even attempting to move the seriously wounded into the medical bay before they had their tools deep within another Cybertronian. The scream of machines and shouts within the medical bay painting an even grimmer picture then that of the one for those who were deemed safe enough to be left alone; as the more seriously wounded were either part of an attempt to be saved, or even deactivated out of mercy when it became apparent there would be no way to save them as the glow of a spark in a chest compartment guttered and began to fade.
All of this ignored by the golden armored warrior stalking down the halls and trailing energon, though not his own, from the blades extending from his arms. The few dents and scuffs upon the frame adding to the aura of keep out of the way as mechs and femmes unconsciously and automatically moved from the path of this particular mech and his single minded journey to the deeper parts of the building.
"Sunstreaker, you're walking wounded and haven't been debriefed yet!"
The gold mech, who barely paused at the shout of his designation, ignored the minibot trying to stop him as he stalked into a room that seemed unoccupied by anyone. Until one began to follow the various cables and wires to the corner farthest from the door that Sunstreaker had entered, and the one that was now caddy corner to Sunstreaker. Blue optics landing on the largest pile of wires that gave flashes of red and white armor beneath in their softly moving way from the electrical charge going through them. Only for a majority to uncoil and fall away to show a smaller and less armored, compared to Sunstreaker, mech underneath. The red and white paint job still obscured as nearly every single cable seemed to be painfully connected to the inner circuitry of the mech through various armor gaps and transformation seams. The helm barely rising at the intrusion due to the sheer weight and amount of cables hooked and slinking away from the helm and the delicate cpu housed within.
Even as optics, though very dimmed to the point the normal blue was so pale it was almost white, onlined to visually confirm the energy signature that had entered. Another mech appeared from the door not being occupied by Sunstreaker. The white and green paint job with bits of red seeming overly cheerful in the dimly lit room filled with the dark cables. The odd fin like lights on the helm of the new mech lighting up briefly that to those who knew the color and code with the flickering and brightening of lights, could translate to being an emotion of surprise at the sight of Sunstreaker's frame in the doorway.
"Sunstreaker, what are you do-"
"Mute it Wheeljack. Where's our Commandercurrently hiding away at?"
Wheeljack only sighed at the deadly tone being used in regards to the title used for the mech Sunstreaker was looking for. His attempts to try and calm down the volatile frontliner before he once again ended up striking out at someone that wasn't a Decepticon came to a halt when the third mech in the room finally spoke up.
"Prowl's current exact location is unknown. His tracking signal was lost when the rain started."
The static filled voice had the other two mechs wincing, though Sunstreaker only did so mentally, as it once more struck home the little detail of what exactly was happening to the mech connected to Teletraan's remaining databases and functional systems. However briefly before both once more deleted or sent the errant thought to a file further back in their processors when Sunstreaker gave a sound that, though acknowledging the implications of that statement, was still seething with anger and murderous intent before he turned around and stalked back the way he came.
"It seems the information about that transmission is spreading faster then we thought, if Sunstreaker is on the hunt for Prowl this early in the cycle. If he's not trying to force Prowl to send him off after Sideswipe again that is."
Wheeljack didn't expect an answer to his musing, and thus was not surprised when the room fell back into the eerie ambiance of humming electrical currents and the faint sound of systems running at optimal speeds, even as cooling fans attempted to keep the living hub of information from overheating due to the energy taxing procedures being done. Even though he knows it won't be noticed, the engineer rearranges the other mech into a more comfortable position from the one of the smaller bot standing upright and using the corner to keep said standing position. Before heading out once more through the same door as Sunstreaker, pausing to initiate the closing and locking sequence for the door and setting it to his personal code only.
As much as he would have liked to have turned around and yanked every wire and cable out of the young security bot, or head off after the figure of Sunstreaker in hopes of keeping the frontliner from doing something he would regret later when his temper cooled; if only in the fact of having to spend time in the brig again. Wheeljack however did neither and instead headed down a corridor that was devoid of anyone else moving about.
He sadly had his own priorities that outweighed both Red Alert and Sunstreaker, due to the order to fall back to the ruins of Praxus that was even now echoing over the encrypted lines of the Autobots.