CHAPTER EIGHT. HEARTS OF DARKNESS
AUTHOR NOTE & DISCLAIMER:
Well, the much anticipated Bombshell is dropped on the TF continuality, and no, I don't mean the Insecticon of the same name. And, as for the disclaimer, I own none of this, aside from some aspects of the plot.
I look forward to hearing your reviews on this chapter, which is my favorite of the one's I've written to date.
THINGS THAT WERE
'How did it come to this? How did the 'Slag Maker' be reduced to being under the control of mere organics, without control of his own body.
Well, I say mere. Perhaps that fool Rook was merely a human, but these new ones that I see in my moments of sight as they test my optics, have an inner strength I can understand, and respect.
It seems much time has passed since Rook sealed us inside this cursed ship, The Ark. The new information that has been downloaded to my brain has given me much to think about, it has proved my salvation, unlike Starscream.
Starscream. I pity him now that I have seen for myself what he went through for thousands of years. I myself have been subjected to the void for only a few months, and yet the fear has began to grow on me, that I will never be released from this eternal womb of nothingness. That fear threatens to consume me, and mould me into a mirror image of the screaming one.
I thank the human who recently suggested they download a full account of their history to my memory banks to update that which Rook installed, and the one who reactivated my brain, granting my back my awareness, if not control of my body. Had I nothing with which to occupy my mind, I would surely have 'flipped', I think is the phrase. That is most likely why Starscream went mad. I however, had reams of new information to sift through. The recent history of the human race I found particularly interesting. An Endless Waltz of war and peace, much like the history of my race. The three beats of war, peace and revolution, forever repeating.
That's why I respect this new generation of humans, unlike Rook's complacent breed. They have fought a war of attrition with each other, but had the sense to forge a peace and maintain that peace despite revolutions against it. They fight for their peace, and have hardened because of it. If only that had been achieved on Cybertron.
I most also admit that since their twentieth century human technology has progressed at an amazing rate, perhaps enough to defeat my forces, powerful as they are. These machines called Gundams, and their pilots I find intriguing. How can organics barely a vorn and a half old become such skilled and devoted warriors.
I suppose the same can be said of myself. I was young myself when I was recruited into Skorpinok's military. The young gladiator who fought for his own honour and the entertainment of others had somehow caught the eye of the supreme commander of Cybertron's armed forces, and had been recruited into the Decepticon army on the spur of the moment.
How I survived those early years amazes me. I was easily the youngest cadet in my division and as such had to do better than the others to prove myself. I pushed myself beyond all the barriers, grew and matured faster than most, all the time using Skorpinok as my idol, my role model. And yet even at that time the rot had started to set in.
To use a human analogy it was like a mighty tree that appeared sturdy and strong on the outside but was beginning to rot at the core. Skorpinok relished the power of commanding the Decepticons, but began to desire, nay, crave more. And eventually, soon after I had become his right-hand bot', that craving materialised in a war against the other transformers. That was the first beat, revolution.
Skorpinok's only cause in that war was to gain power for himself, yet like a fool I supported him, drove his forces to strive for greater and more violent victories, yet I soon began to resent and loathe him, as did many of the other soldiers around me. Blinded in the bloodthirsty quest for power, Skorpinok failed to realise how many of his forces began to detest him as he cut down more and more innocents in his path.
I remember the day well when it all came to a head. We had just stormed the steps of Iacon, the last barrier of resistance against his tyranny, when I realised that if this crazed megalomaniac came to wield supreme power, it would lead to the down fall of our race, and the destruction of Cybertron, which I loved above everything else.
I often wonder what passed through Skorpinok's mind as he mounted the final stair, bringing his mighty cannon to bear on the battlements of Iacon, only to have a blade of pure energon pushed through his hips. He didn't scream or cower in pain, I recall, as I took his own energy sword and cleaved his body in two. For that, I suppose, I should respect him. Despite his power- mad cravings, he died the noble death of a warrior.
When Cybertron realised that the tyrant was destroyed an age of peace began. I was hailed as the hero who had saved all transformers. Hordes of young bots worshipped at my feat, I was made the new commander of the Decepticons, age-old protectors of Cybertron. And it was then, that I had my revelation.
I compared the young bot who had been drafted to what I had become. I had surpassed all expectations. I had taken the raw ability within myself and shaped it into something which was awed by the populace. I soon realised that all possessed this ability, yet I saw it being wasted. Hoards of transformers wasting their lives without fulfilling their true potential. I had a dream, a vision of what Cybertron and our people could become. The supreme rulers of a vast empire, as we were meant to be! But this potential was being wasted in a decadent regime devoted to pleasure and enjoyment. It was, is our destiny to be all we can be, and I saw that I was the only one who saw this.
I knew then, that if Cybertron and the Transformers were to become that dream, I would have to be in power. Only with my guiding hand could it become a reality. But unlike Skorpinok's war, this would be a war that would benefit us, instead of passing all power to a maniacal tyrant.
I was sure, that once my intentions became known, all of Cybertron would rush to back me, to fulfil my ideals, and many did. But the others, the fools, the weaklings, rushed to oppose me. Could they not see, were they blind to the glory that was within us, literally in our grasp, that we should seize the opportunity by the neck.
No. They, fools that they were, believed that I was a oppressive dictator and a turncoat. They in turn, believed that all should be free to choose the course that their lives should take. Never had I heard such nonsense. The spiritual goal of our race is for all to be one, yet how can we be one when we all work in opposite directions, doing what we please.
Despite the actions of these fools, I fought. I tore Prime after Prime limb from limb, all the while building the power of my army. Soon, the Autobot's were worked into a corner, on the verge of surrender. At the same time, I discovered a great secret, one that would make my dream a reality. All that was needed was for the war to end, then...
...then, he arrived.
Optimus Prime, a machine I admire and detest. At the time I first met him I saw him as nothing more than a jumped-up filing clerk, but I found him to have the same fire in him as me, the same drive to fight for his ideals. Unlike his predecessor, Sentinel Prime, he was a worthy opponent, an equal match in battle, unfortunately.
Since that day millions of years ago I have not progressed with my dreams. I fight battle after battle with Prime, each one ending with a stalemate. Neither of us has been able to destroy the other, even though I have come close, he has always gained the upper hand, and vice versa. And, in desperation, I have succumbed to cowardly and loathsome tactics I would never have condoned before. I have become just as bloodthirsty and despised and murderous as Skorpinok. And I hate myself for it.
Yet I continue my fight, because I know. I know that as soon as Optimus Prime ceases to exist, victory against the Autobots would be instant. And then, my great secret would be exploited.
Cybertron, our planet, was once mobile, not bound by orbits or spatial geography. I knew that if I could restart the engines that drove it, and rebuilt Cybertron, it could become something that is both awesome and terrifying, a galactic dreadnought, with which we could conquer and rule whole galaxies, or even, for a race that is ageless and timeless, the whole universe.
That is why I fight. If I die, my dream dies with me. No-one else has the drive, the skill, the vision to accomplish it. Once I had hoped that Starscream possessed those same feelings, that I could train him as a protege to take up my dream should I ever fail in battle. Our close friendship had led me to believe that he would be an excellent leader, talented, intelligent and filled with the same drive as me. That dream died with the onset of his insanity, and the end of our relationship. I often hoped that a spark of that relationship still existed, and that had I the time, I could cultivate that friendship again. But in war, there is never any time. And since then I have never met a person with the same qualities that I possess, and Starscream once did.
I will not allow my dreams to die. And while Cybertron exists, I will continue to fight...'
*
THINGS THAT ARE
COMMANDER'S LOG OF THE DECEPTICON SHUTTLE EPSILON/GAMMA/ALPHA12. 'VENGEANCE'
The war of the transformers is over, but it has come at a terrible price.
Cybertron is no more. It has ceased to exist. But it was not our war that destroyed hour home, the one place that both our factions fought to protect., No.
It has been well over ten vorns, ten vorns since he descended on our world, tearing it apart, ripping out it's very core in his search for the two energies that existed as a threat to him, not aware that they had left our world half a megavorn ago.
The first time he appeared, he left without harming us, but threatened that if we did not hand over the two energies, he would return, and destroy our world. After that ultimatum, our forces united to find a solution to the collective threat. Our greatest scholars, led by the greatest and wisest transformer of all, Alpha Trion, searched our records and historic data tracks. It was well known that the first energy was contained within the Autobot Matrix of Leadership, the mystic object rumoured to contain a fragment of Primus' laser core himself. The Matrix has been handed down from one Autobot leader to the other over many vorns, but the nature of the second energy has always been a mystery.
At the same time as our scholars and intellectuals searched, the rest of our race prepared for the ultimate battle, to save us from him. Yet we knew it was a hopeless battle that was coming, so at the same time we prepared to evacuate the planet.
It was after many long vorns of searching, that Trion discovered the nature of the second energy, rumoured to have been mere hearsay. It was amazing. Rather than an object of creation, like the Matrix, the other was an object of destruction, a great limitless energy contained within a powerful weapon, the most powerful in existence. As to what weapon, it was equally amazing.
Like the Autobots, the Decepticons have existed since a race of robotic slaves was given sentience by means unknown, many believing to be a great deity, Primus. Each race possessed a great energy that befitted their purpose. The Autobots were labourers, so theirs was the Matrix, an object that gave life. The Decepticons were warriors, Cybertron's defenders, so theirs was an energy of destruction, which took life away, making a kind of poetic sense. And there was but one weapon it could be, one that had been passed from each Decepticon leader to the other. Though he reason for this passing had faded into obscurity, it was maintained as a tradition. In keeping with this tradition, Megatron had taken this weapon from Skorpinok's corpse at the gates of Iacon.
But no sooner had we discovered these things that he returned. And he refused to listen to reason, enraged at being denied what he had demanded. In his fury, he tore Cybertron apart.
I can remember casting one last look round our greatest fortress, Kolkular, as I boarded our escape transport. All transformers have believed that Cybertron was alive, the planet always seemed to hum, a song we could understand. But now, the song had become a dirge, a funeral lament for the planet itself. As he tore his massive, clawed hands into the surface of the planet, a great scream rose up, as millions of lives were squashed out before they could escape. Even myself, regarded as one of the coldest and most unemotional of beings, felt a cold shudder run up my body at that sound.
As the pride of my forces escaped in the same shuttle as myself, he tore into the chamber at Cybertron's very core, the Plasma Energy Chamber, which saved our lives.
Had he not done that, he would have picked us off as we sped to outer space, but his haste to destroy the planet released a wave of electrically charged Plasma Energy, which overloaded our ship enough to drive us far enough into the depths of space, away from Alpha Centurai that the dark one might never reach us.
As we fled, behind us, Cybertron erupted into a massive orange flower, beautiful even in death, as smaller ships, less lucky than ourselves, were consumed in the fireball. Among this cataclysm, he stood, laughing in his evil glee, consuming the remnants of what had been our home mere breems before hand.
In those ten vorns since, those few ships who were lucky enough to escape have joined together in a vast flotilla, led by the two largest ships, the Autobot vessel Salvation, commanded by the honourable Ultra Magnus, and the Vengeance, commanded by myself. In total we have near 2.5 thousand survivors, but that is a mere fraction of a percentage of Cybertron's former population. Our race is all but dead.
Now however, we few are united in our quest. To find the two most powerful leaders of our collective race, Optimus Prime and Megatron, and recover the lost energies, so that we may have revenge against he who destroyed our race. We will continue to search, forever if needs be, as long as it will end in the destruction of the dark one.
I swear that as long as my spark functions, that I, Shockwave, will always be an ally to all his enemies.
END LOG ENTRY
*
AND SOME WHICH HAVE NOT YET COME TO PASS...
'It is time.
Yes, I have felt a stirring in the great cosmos. It has been building gradually for centuries, but the energies are building in power. Now, they are like a beacon to me, drawing me near. They are the only things that can stand in my way, and when they are destroyed, I, who have cruised the infinite byways of the cosmos, will continue of my quest of destruction.
I am destruction,
I am pain,
I am grief and suffering,
I am the bringer of chaos and apocalypse.
I am the only one that shall remain in the eternal void,
I am the great destroyer, the dark one.
I am Unicron.
It is time.'
To be continued.
AUTHOR NOTE.
IMPORTANT: Sorry, but don't expect updates for at least a week. On Friday I'm going way for a four-day Christian festival at Cheltenham Racecourse called Greenbelt. During this time I'll be camping but I'll take a disk with me in case I get access to a computer during that time.
After that, I've got just under a week before my next term of school begins.
I'd also like to take the opportunity to apologise for spelling and grammatical errors in this chapter and the last, along with the lack of chapter notes, because I'm currently a bag of nerves. Tomorrow, Thursday, I receive the results for my most important school tests ever. At age 16 in the UK we take exams called GCSEs, which decide whether we stay on for a further two years of optional education, or leave school and get jobs.
I took eleven GCSE exams, and I must get grade A+ to C to pass in each one. I hope to get at least 50% Bs and 50% As and up. If, tomorrow, I get good results, I'm going to go down to the bar with my mates, and get drunk. Also, if I get bad results in things like English and physics, I might get so depressed I utterly give up on this work of mine. However 'LOTS. OF. REVIEWS.' might cure that. If you've read this far, please, please, please review. I get so depressed now that my amount of reviews has fallen to one every three days I'm utterly demoralised. And this, time, I'm serious.
Well, I will be updating as soon as possible, but now, it's ten in the evening, and I'm nervous, exhausted, and my innards feel like they've been tied in a knot with anxiety. See ya'.
WISH ME LUCK!
AUTHOR NOTE & DISCLAIMER:
Well, the much anticipated Bombshell is dropped on the TF continuality, and no, I don't mean the Insecticon of the same name. And, as for the disclaimer, I own none of this, aside from some aspects of the plot.
I look forward to hearing your reviews on this chapter, which is my favorite of the one's I've written to date.
THINGS THAT WERE
'How did it come to this? How did the 'Slag Maker' be reduced to being under the control of mere organics, without control of his own body.
Well, I say mere. Perhaps that fool Rook was merely a human, but these new ones that I see in my moments of sight as they test my optics, have an inner strength I can understand, and respect.
It seems much time has passed since Rook sealed us inside this cursed ship, The Ark. The new information that has been downloaded to my brain has given me much to think about, it has proved my salvation, unlike Starscream.
Starscream. I pity him now that I have seen for myself what he went through for thousands of years. I myself have been subjected to the void for only a few months, and yet the fear has began to grow on me, that I will never be released from this eternal womb of nothingness. That fear threatens to consume me, and mould me into a mirror image of the screaming one.
I thank the human who recently suggested they download a full account of their history to my memory banks to update that which Rook installed, and the one who reactivated my brain, granting my back my awareness, if not control of my body. Had I nothing with which to occupy my mind, I would surely have 'flipped', I think is the phrase. That is most likely why Starscream went mad. I however, had reams of new information to sift through. The recent history of the human race I found particularly interesting. An Endless Waltz of war and peace, much like the history of my race. The three beats of war, peace and revolution, forever repeating.
That's why I respect this new generation of humans, unlike Rook's complacent breed. They have fought a war of attrition with each other, but had the sense to forge a peace and maintain that peace despite revolutions against it. They fight for their peace, and have hardened because of it. If only that had been achieved on Cybertron.
I most also admit that since their twentieth century human technology has progressed at an amazing rate, perhaps enough to defeat my forces, powerful as they are. These machines called Gundams, and their pilots I find intriguing. How can organics barely a vorn and a half old become such skilled and devoted warriors.
I suppose the same can be said of myself. I was young myself when I was recruited into Skorpinok's military. The young gladiator who fought for his own honour and the entertainment of others had somehow caught the eye of the supreme commander of Cybertron's armed forces, and had been recruited into the Decepticon army on the spur of the moment.
How I survived those early years amazes me. I was easily the youngest cadet in my division and as such had to do better than the others to prove myself. I pushed myself beyond all the barriers, grew and matured faster than most, all the time using Skorpinok as my idol, my role model. And yet even at that time the rot had started to set in.
To use a human analogy it was like a mighty tree that appeared sturdy and strong on the outside but was beginning to rot at the core. Skorpinok relished the power of commanding the Decepticons, but began to desire, nay, crave more. And eventually, soon after I had become his right-hand bot', that craving materialised in a war against the other transformers. That was the first beat, revolution.
Skorpinok's only cause in that war was to gain power for himself, yet like a fool I supported him, drove his forces to strive for greater and more violent victories, yet I soon began to resent and loathe him, as did many of the other soldiers around me. Blinded in the bloodthirsty quest for power, Skorpinok failed to realise how many of his forces began to detest him as he cut down more and more innocents in his path.
I remember the day well when it all came to a head. We had just stormed the steps of Iacon, the last barrier of resistance against his tyranny, when I realised that if this crazed megalomaniac came to wield supreme power, it would lead to the down fall of our race, and the destruction of Cybertron, which I loved above everything else.
I often wonder what passed through Skorpinok's mind as he mounted the final stair, bringing his mighty cannon to bear on the battlements of Iacon, only to have a blade of pure energon pushed through his hips. He didn't scream or cower in pain, I recall, as I took his own energy sword and cleaved his body in two. For that, I suppose, I should respect him. Despite his power- mad cravings, he died the noble death of a warrior.
When Cybertron realised that the tyrant was destroyed an age of peace began. I was hailed as the hero who had saved all transformers. Hordes of young bots worshipped at my feat, I was made the new commander of the Decepticons, age-old protectors of Cybertron. And it was then, that I had my revelation.
I compared the young bot who had been drafted to what I had become. I had surpassed all expectations. I had taken the raw ability within myself and shaped it into something which was awed by the populace. I soon realised that all possessed this ability, yet I saw it being wasted. Hoards of transformers wasting their lives without fulfilling their true potential. I had a dream, a vision of what Cybertron and our people could become. The supreme rulers of a vast empire, as we were meant to be! But this potential was being wasted in a decadent regime devoted to pleasure and enjoyment. It was, is our destiny to be all we can be, and I saw that I was the only one who saw this.
I knew then, that if Cybertron and the Transformers were to become that dream, I would have to be in power. Only with my guiding hand could it become a reality. But unlike Skorpinok's war, this would be a war that would benefit us, instead of passing all power to a maniacal tyrant.
I was sure, that once my intentions became known, all of Cybertron would rush to back me, to fulfil my ideals, and many did. But the others, the fools, the weaklings, rushed to oppose me. Could they not see, were they blind to the glory that was within us, literally in our grasp, that we should seize the opportunity by the neck.
No. They, fools that they were, believed that I was a oppressive dictator and a turncoat. They in turn, believed that all should be free to choose the course that their lives should take. Never had I heard such nonsense. The spiritual goal of our race is for all to be one, yet how can we be one when we all work in opposite directions, doing what we please.
Despite the actions of these fools, I fought. I tore Prime after Prime limb from limb, all the while building the power of my army. Soon, the Autobot's were worked into a corner, on the verge of surrender. At the same time, I discovered a great secret, one that would make my dream a reality. All that was needed was for the war to end, then...
...then, he arrived.
Optimus Prime, a machine I admire and detest. At the time I first met him I saw him as nothing more than a jumped-up filing clerk, but I found him to have the same fire in him as me, the same drive to fight for his ideals. Unlike his predecessor, Sentinel Prime, he was a worthy opponent, an equal match in battle, unfortunately.
Since that day millions of years ago I have not progressed with my dreams. I fight battle after battle with Prime, each one ending with a stalemate. Neither of us has been able to destroy the other, even though I have come close, he has always gained the upper hand, and vice versa. And, in desperation, I have succumbed to cowardly and loathsome tactics I would never have condoned before. I have become just as bloodthirsty and despised and murderous as Skorpinok. And I hate myself for it.
Yet I continue my fight, because I know. I know that as soon as Optimus Prime ceases to exist, victory against the Autobots would be instant. And then, my great secret would be exploited.
Cybertron, our planet, was once mobile, not bound by orbits or spatial geography. I knew that if I could restart the engines that drove it, and rebuilt Cybertron, it could become something that is both awesome and terrifying, a galactic dreadnought, with which we could conquer and rule whole galaxies, or even, for a race that is ageless and timeless, the whole universe.
That is why I fight. If I die, my dream dies with me. No-one else has the drive, the skill, the vision to accomplish it. Once I had hoped that Starscream possessed those same feelings, that I could train him as a protege to take up my dream should I ever fail in battle. Our close friendship had led me to believe that he would be an excellent leader, talented, intelligent and filled with the same drive as me. That dream died with the onset of his insanity, and the end of our relationship. I often hoped that a spark of that relationship still existed, and that had I the time, I could cultivate that friendship again. But in war, there is never any time. And since then I have never met a person with the same qualities that I possess, and Starscream once did.
I will not allow my dreams to die. And while Cybertron exists, I will continue to fight...'
*
THINGS THAT ARE
COMMANDER'S LOG OF THE DECEPTICON SHUTTLE EPSILON/GAMMA/ALPHA12. 'VENGEANCE'
The war of the transformers is over, but it has come at a terrible price.
Cybertron is no more. It has ceased to exist. But it was not our war that destroyed hour home, the one place that both our factions fought to protect., No.
It has been well over ten vorns, ten vorns since he descended on our world, tearing it apart, ripping out it's very core in his search for the two energies that existed as a threat to him, not aware that they had left our world half a megavorn ago.
The first time he appeared, he left without harming us, but threatened that if we did not hand over the two energies, he would return, and destroy our world. After that ultimatum, our forces united to find a solution to the collective threat. Our greatest scholars, led by the greatest and wisest transformer of all, Alpha Trion, searched our records and historic data tracks. It was well known that the first energy was contained within the Autobot Matrix of Leadership, the mystic object rumoured to contain a fragment of Primus' laser core himself. The Matrix has been handed down from one Autobot leader to the other over many vorns, but the nature of the second energy has always been a mystery.
At the same time as our scholars and intellectuals searched, the rest of our race prepared for the ultimate battle, to save us from him. Yet we knew it was a hopeless battle that was coming, so at the same time we prepared to evacuate the planet.
It was after many long vorns of searching, that Trion discovered the nature of the second energy, rumoured to have been mere hearsay. It was amazing. Rather than an object of creation, like the Matrix, the other was an object of destruction, a great limitless energy contained within a powerful weapon, the most powerful in existence. As to what weapon, it was equally amazing.
Like the Autobots, the Decepticons have existed since a race of robotic slaves was given sentience by means unknown, many believing to be a great deity, Primus. Each race possessed a great energy that befitted their purpose. The Autobots were labourers, so theirs was the Matrix, an object that gave life. The Decepticons were warriors, Cybertron's defenders, so theirs was an energy of destruction, which took life away, making a kind of poetic sense. And there was but one weapon it could be, one that had been passed from each Decepticon leader to the other. Though he reason for this passing had faded into obscurity, it was maintained as a tradition. In keeping with this tradition, Megatron had taken this weapon from Skorpinok's corpse at the gates of Iacon.
But no sooner had we discovered these things that he returned. And he refused to listen to reason, enraged at being denied what he had demanded. In his fury, he tore Cybertron apart.
I can remember casting one last look round our greatest fortress, Kolkular, as I boarded our escape transport. All transformers have believed that Cybertron was alive, the planet always seemed to hum, a song we could understand. But now, the song had become a dirge, a funeral lament for the planet itself. As he tore his massive, clawed hands into the surface of the planet, a great scream rose up, as millions of lives were squashed out before they could escape. Even myself, regarded as one of the coldest and most unemotional of beings, felt a cold shudder run up my body at that sound.
As the pride of my forces escaped in the same shuttle as myself, he tore into the chamber at Cybertron's very core, the Plasma Energy Chamber, which saved our lives.
Had he not done that, he would have picked us off as we sped to outer space, but his haste to destroy the planet released a wave of electrically charged Plasma Energy, which overloaded our ship enough to drive us far enough into the depths of space, away from Alpha Centurai that the dark one might never reach us.
As we fled, behind us, Cybertron erupted into a massive orange flower, beautiful even in death, as smaller ships, less lucky than ourselves, were consumed in the fireball. Among this cataclysm, he stood, laughing in his evil glee, consuming the remnants of what had been our home mere breems before hand.
In those ten vorns since, those few ships who were lucky enough to escape have joined together in a vast flotilla, led by the two largest ships, the Autobot vessel Salvation, commanded by the honourable Ultra Magnus, and the Vengeance, commanded by myself. In total we have near 2.5 thousand survivors, but that is a mere fraction of a percentage of Cybertron's former population. Our race is all but dead.
Now however, we few are united in our quest. To find the two most powerful leaders of our collective race, Optimus Prime and Megatron, and recover the lost energies, so that we may have revenge against he who destroyed our race. We will continue to search, forever if needs be, as long as it will end in the destruction of the dark one.
I swear that as long as my spark functions, that I, Shockwave, will always be an ally to all his enemies.
END LOG ENTRY
*
AND SOME WHICH HAVE NOT YET COME TO PASS...
'It is time.
Yes, I have felt a stirring in the great cosmos. It has been building gradually for centuries, but the energies are building in power. Now, they are like a beacon to me, drawing me near. They are the only things that can stand in my way, and when they are destroyed, I, who have cruised the infinite byways of the cosmos, will continue of my quest of destruction.
I am destruction,
I am pain,
I am grief and suffering,
I am the bringer of chaos and apocalypse.
I am the only one that shall remain in the eternal void,
I am the great destroyer, the dark one.
I am Unicron.
It is time.'
To be continued.
AUTHOR NOTE.
IMPORTANT: Sorry, but don't expect updates for at least a week. On Friday I'm going way for a four-day Christian festival at Cheltenham Racecourse called Greenbelt. During this time I'll be camping but I'll take a disk with me in case I get access to a computer during that time.
After that, I've got just under a week before my next term of school begins.
I'd also like to take the opportunity to apologise for spelling and grammatical errors in this chapter and the last, along with the lack of chapter notes, because I'm currently a bag of nerves. Tomorrow, Thursday, I receive the results for my most important school tests ever. At age 16 in the UK we take exams called GCSEs, which decide whether we stay on for a further two years of optional education, or leave school and get jobs.
I took eleven GCSE exams, and I must get grade A+ to C to pass in each one. I hope to get at least 50% Bs and 50% As and up. If, tomorrow, I get good results, I'm going to go down to the bar with my mates, and get drunk. Also, if I get bad results in things like English and physics, I might get so depressed I utterly give up on this work of mine. However 'LOTS. OF. REVIEWS.' might cure that. If you've read this far, please, please, please review. I get so depressed now that my amount of reviews has fallen to one every three days I'm utterly demoralised. And this, time, I'm serious.
Well, I will be updating as soon as possible, but now, it's ten in the evening, and I'm nervous, exhausted, and my innards feel like they've been tied in a knot with anxiety. See ya'.
WISH ME LUCK!