A.N./Some people have pointed out how some lines feel too human. Imma be honest, I have no idea how to fix that. I may like Transformers, but I am a casual fan at most. Tips would be helpful.
I should also clarify that this timeline is mainly inspired by the Prime cartoon and Cybertron games, and not directly taking place in either. The mere existence of BB implies as much. Certain events from both will still have happened, but which ones won't be revealed for a while.
Chapter 2: A Flap of a Butterfly's Wings…
"So as you can see Councilors; with this new carrier design in combination with the new Shrike strike fighters Atlas's reach will extend farther than ever before. Providing safety and security against any threat of the Grimm." He concluded his presentation and stepped back from the rotating hologram of the carrier design Backblast had provided. Immediately the chamber erupted in excited chattering between two of the four councilors. His superior, General Steele, looked on in silent approval, and Councilor Greer held his head in his hands.
The poor councilor was lambasted as a fool by the media for pouring so much funds into the Advanced Bullhead Project, effectively killing the man's political career. As a byproduct of the media lynching Greer's career, he himself seemed to have gained enough political clout to actually run for Greer's council seat. An idea he's been toying with for the past few days. If he did go through with it, and succeeded, then he'd be able push whatever agenda he wished, and stall whichever decision he didn't like. That is, if he managed to hold the seat long enough and General Steele still decided to promote him to General.
But did he want to gain a stranglehold on the government like that?
He felt disgusted with himself that he came to the answer of yes. Yes he did want to control the government, because if he did, then nothing could stop him from safeguarding Atlas.
A frown formed on his face. No. He has to remember Atlas isn't all that matters anymore. Remnant as a whole is what matters. Aliens are real, and all of Remnant must be united if they wish to even stand a chance against anything that'll come knocking. Him strong arming the government to do what he wants would only make Remnant more wary of Atlas, ruining whatever chance of unity mankind had.
What if he could compromise? Safeguard Atlas, but still help the other Kingdoms. The big question is how to do that?
He looked at the hologram of the carrier and suddenly had a bout of inspiration.
"Colonel Ironwood!"
He was dragged out of his thoughts and instinctively snapped to attention. "Yes Councilman?"
Greer cleared his throat and reluctantly spoke. "It is the decision of this council to accept your proposed carrier design. We will commission two of the vessels as a trial run, and if they perform adequately another eight will be brought into service. This meeting is adjourned!"
"Sir, wait!"
The Green haired councilman paused, shot him a hateful sneer, and sat back down. "Speak quickly, colonel."
He nervously adjusted his collar, here's hoping this works. "I would like this Council's permission to start development on a strike fighter specifically designed for exporting to other Kingdoms."
General Steele showed little reaction, while the other three councilors raised brows and looked at each other confused. "Why not export the Shrike?"
"Because it's currently the best aircraft in the world. Exporting it poses a security risk. Instead I propose we develop a less capable craft and sell it at a markup. It will not only provide funds for our economy, help our allies, but also give us an edge. Just in case."
The council remained silent for a time, mulling over his proposal and quietly muttered to each other. They all started bobbing their heads, and Greer straightened up while clearing his throat. "Very well. This council has decided to grant your request. Meeting adjourned."
"You need another design?"
"Yes."
"And it needs to be inferior in combat compared to the ASF-1?"
"Yes."
A sigh. "Very well. Let me think."
He racked his brain for some time, going through dozens of blueprints for aircraft. Many of which he had stolen during a mission for Soundwave to gather intel on Earths' militaries. Eventually he kept coming back to one design. A VTOL like much of the aerial craft the people of Remnant seemed to be obsessed with. It could carry anything from rockets to bombs to missiles, and it was relatively inexpensive to produce.
"I think I have a design for you." Red once more projected from his optics displaying a hologram of a sleek aircraft with shoulder-mounted wings featuring a prominent downward slope, and four synchronized vectorable nozzles close to its turbine.
The humans of Earth would know it as a Harrier jump jet.
"It's perfect…" Ironwood murmured.
He smiled. "I imagine you'll need even more vehicles to compliment "your" new designs."
Dozens more designs formed from sinister red holographic lines. Tanks, APC's, IFV's, self propelled guns, smart artillery, drones, and many many more. Ironwood gaped at them all. "Let's get started shall we?"
Several years later…
Even though he's been working with the humans of Remnant for quite some time now, he still can't quite grasp their culture. It feels like a twisted mockery of those he encountered on Earth, but also shockingly similar. So much so that at times he'd forget these weren't humans from Earth. Sometimes they were incredibly militant and innovative, other times they were spineless and backwards in their thinking. It confounded him perhaps even more than the humans of Earth ever did.
Although…
He looked around at the various soldiers, automatons, and scientists performing their respective duties.
The culture of Atlas is by far the most… tolerable.
The militant autocratic republic reminded him of the early days of the war, back when Megatron had simply been a charismatic revolutionary sick of the harsh caste system that Cybertonian civilization had been subjected to. Back then the Decepticon cause had been righteous and just. Nothing at all like what it had become by the end of the war.
"All right Backblast, show us what you've got!"
He shook himself free of his reminiscing, nodded, and slid his visor down with a mental command. His right arm transformed from a sharp fingered hand into a sinister looking triangular red weapon, and he took aim. A moment later a red bolt of energy blasted from the tip of the weapon and impacted the target, annihilating it.
"Next!"
He adjusted his aim onto the next target, this time releasing a three round burst with pinpoint accuracy. The target, an old truck, blew open like a compressed air tank.
"Next!"
His aim shifted once more, and a much less accurate full auto barrage of energon blasts sailed at the final target, a mock up small building. Each blast tore a massive chunk out of the small shack until there was simply no shack left.
"Cease fire!"
Excited murmuring broke out as he retracted the weapon. It was nice to finally use his weapon again, these past few years have been rather boring all things considered. Just a constant stream of them asking for weapon designs and some small but rather in-depth tests on his body. It of course all served the purpose to not only advance their nation, but to also increase their technical knowledge enough to assist him in rebuilding his species. They weren't there yet, but they grew closer everyday.
"Great work BB!" He looked down at the dark skinned scientist with wolf ears, and she looked back up with a bright smile.
The incessant need for the peoples of this world to shorten his name still irked him beyond belief, but he's grown used to it. "I barely did anything Dr. Amin."
She shook her head. "Nonsense! You discharging your energon blaster gave us valuable data on power distribution in a Cybertonian body!"
He scoffed. "I am no scientist, so I'll take your word for it."
"Great! Do you mind shifting your arm back and forth a few times for the engineers? They need to get an understanding of how your body is capable of shifting so seamlessly." Three engineers behind her nodded vigorously. He rolled his optics and stuck out his arm.
"Tap my elbow when you want me to change between forms." The three nodded and began examining his arm in deep interest. He ignored them and instead turned back to the wolf Faunus. "Before the tests, you were telling me about your son… Marrow?"
The tiny doctor's smile grew. "Oh yes! He's just the sweetest boy! He'll be graduating from the academy this year."
"So you were saying." He remarked flatly. "What is the academy? Some sort of military training facility?"
"Not exactly. It's a combat training school meant to teach the next generation how to fight Grimm, but those who graduate aren't actually required to join the military."
"You train you young to fight? Very efficient." He praised. "The other… organic species I've come across during the war would usually find such a practice to be morally repugnant."
He likely wouldn't ever mention that those other organics were also human.
She scoffed. "Then they must've lived in paradise. We don't have the luxury to not train our kids if we want an effective weapon against the Grimm."
A quiet hum escaped him. Considering what the war ended up doing to Earth, he wouldn't call it a paradise. Probably won't return to what it once was for several hundred years or more. Instead, he simply agreed. "Well said."
"I agree." A new voice called out. One he recognized. He turned to his left and saw Colonel Ironwood approaching, along with a new face.
"Ah, Colonel. You've been rather scarce lately, I assume you've been busy preparing for your promotion?"
Ironwood smiled goodnaturedly. "Incredibly busy, but I've managed to get most of my matters squared away."
He felt an odd form of kinship with the cyborg. He couldn't quite explain it, but it manifested in a respect for the fellow veteran.
It's funny, if the Decepticon army had still been around and he expressed respect for a human, he'd be the laughingstock of the entire army! At the start of his agreement with the humans of this world, every conversation was a concentrated effort to not talk down on them. He'd grown so accustomed to thinking of humans as puny and weak little fleshlings that it made working with them a little awkward at first. His gaze left the Colonel and turned to look at the pale haired young female by the General's side, who was looking up at him with uncontained awe. "Who is this by your side? Is it your… wife? Did I get the term right?"
The pale woman turned red and sputtered a bit while Ironwood gaped a little up at him. He tilted his head slightly in confusion. Did he say something wrong? Not sure why they reacted that way, he turned to Dr. Armin with the intent of asking if he said the word right only to see her stifling laughter with her hand.
"Backblast." Ironwood started, gesturing to his right. "This is my subordinate Winter Schnee. Not my wife. She's several years too young for me."
"Ah." He looked between the two, still unable to see the age difference nor did he really understand why it mattered. Perhaps it's a human thing? They do have rather short lives after all. "It seems I'm still not used to your vernacular."
Ironwood shook his head with a smile, amused at the whole situation. "Anyway, I'm here to tell you Specialist Schnee is to take over my position as liaison between you and Atlas."
A metal brow rose as he looked from the General to the preening woman. His sinister red optics observed her critically, trying to get an impression of the newly named Winter. Her ramrod straight posture with a slightly puffed chest gave a sense of discipline and pride, and her immaculate uniform and hair told him of her incredible eye for detail.
Hmmm. He could work with those traits.
She cleared her throat, still blushing slightly, and stuck her arm out; offering her hand. "I've heard about your contributions to Atlas and look forward to working together."
A small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, not that anyone could see it behind his mask. Looking down slightly at her small form, compared to him, from atop the catwalk; he reached forward and gently grasped her hand between his index finger and thumb. He had to hold back his laughter at how awkward she looked, as did most of the laboratory staff. "Likewise."
"I'm glad to see you two are getting along." Ironwood remarked. "But I must get back to my duties."
"Of course, sir!"
Instead of replying, he only sent a nod at the human officer. Ironwood nodded back and left the building.
"Ahem." He turned back to Winter. "The Colonel tasked me with documenting your tale just in case we are forced to reveal your existence to the public. So." She pressed a button on her scroll. "Tell me, how did your people come to be?"
Red optics stared at her through his black visor momentarily taken aback, having not expected this, but eventually acquiesced and started the tale of his people. "According to legend: at the beginning of time two beings floated through the void. They were both colossal in size and power, each a master of the cosmos. One by the name of Primus represented light, order, and good. While the other, known as Unicron, represented the dark, chaos, and evil."
"Wait, are you telling the story of the brother gods?"
He gave her the most confused look that he could possibly manage. "Brother gods?"
She nodded. "It's an old myth about the creation of life on Remnant. Two brother gods, one light and one dark, create things in competition with each other. The god of light created normal life, and the god of dark created the Grimm. Eventually they put aside their differences to create Humans and Faunus."
He blinked, processing her words. "That is similar, disturbingly so, but no. I am not telling the story of the brother gods."
A frown formed on her lips. "I see. Carry on."
"As I had been saying. The two fought for eons, leaving an endless trail of destruction in their wake. They remained locked in ceaseless battle for an impossibly long period of time, neither gaining the upper hand. That is, until Primus created The Thirteen Primes in his likeness."
"The Thirteen Primes? Were they a progenitor to your species?"
He nodded. "In a way. The Thirteen were the original Cybertonians according to our historical interpretation. However, it is debated that they were something greater than we "modern" citizens of Cybertron are." He shook his head to show he wasn't able to explain further. "Regardless, with the help of The Thirteen Primes: Primus was able to gain the upper hand and defeat Unicron. The defeated Unicron would enter an eternal slumber and be cast out into the cosmos."
"Why didn't Primus destroy him?"
"Because he couldn't."
Winter looked at him strangely. "I don't understand."
"It's complicated." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "While Primus and Unicron do exist physically, that is only part of what they are. The two exist in a fashion outside of our understanding. They will always exist for they are conceptual beings, as long as the concepts they represent exist in the universe; then they will exist."
She shook her head in confusion. "Conceptual beings?"
A scowl worked its way onto his face. "I cannot fully explain. I am neither a scholar nor a philosopher! Much of my people's knowledge has been lost because of the war, and I only possess my personal account as well as general knowledge."
"I… apologize. I didn't mean to question your knowledge. Only understand your terminology."
A huff escaped his metal lips. "As I was saying. Unicron had been cast off into the cosmos and Primus stood victorious. Eventually Primus changed his form and became our homeworld: Cybertron, and brought life to new Cybertonians. That is how my people came to be."
"An interesting origin story. Do you know if any of it is true?"
He looked at her perplexed, not understanding what she was asking. It took a few minutes of staring and her awkwardly shuffling side to side for him to realize that he had possibly misspoken. "It appears there is a misunderstanding. While it is legend, it is also actual history. Everything I have said is fact to my knowledge."
Her eyes widened in shock. "But how could that be? Where did Primus and Unicron come from?"
A shrug worked its way through his shoulders. "I don't know. Nobody does. As far as anyone knows: they always existed without beginning or end."
"Could…" She halted mid question, looking conflicted. "Could they be the Brother Gods?"
His first instinct was to deny the idea, but something stopped him. He thought it over and hesitantly nodded. "I suppose the possibility exists that the Brother Gods are extensions of Primus and Unicron."
Winter seemed to stare off into the distance while she digested his words, and the laboratory staff he'd briefly forgotten the presence of burst into heated murmuring.
She eventually looked back at him. "Our gods are real?"
He shrugged again. "I don't know, but it is possible."
"Dust…" She breathed out, clearly shaken by the revelation. "This changes everything."
His head tilted in confusion. "How so?"
"It gives us an origin to the Grimm. It's a mystery that nobody could answer for all of our history."
He didn't see the big deal. The knowledge didn't help combat the menace in any way nor did it provide any actual information on how they could be eventually defeated. Which made Winter's reaction all the more confusing. Perhaps it is another cultural thing that he'll likely never understand?
Ah scrap. Why does he even care? These humans must be rubbing off on him.
Before he could think further on the topic Dr. Polendina rushed into the room. Which wasn't a particularly fast action. "Sorry to interrupt, but I must examine your Spark!"
He stared down at the doctor, completely silent, before turning back to look at Winter. "It seems we must resume this at another time."
The white haired specialist nodded and put away her scroll. "I understand. I'll go attend to other duties before reporting to Colonel Ironwood."
She spun on her heel and strutted away towards the still gawking laboratory staff.
"Ahem." His crimson gaze turned back to the portly engineer. "Who was she?"
"My new liaison with the Atlesian military."
Peitro hummed. "She seemed nice enough."
"Indeed. You said you need to see my Spark?"
"Oh yes! After you showed me how to make cyber-matter I went about redesigning Penny's chassis around the superior material as well as adding synthetic energon to her design. It was around the midway point of redesigning her that I thought about your Spark."
"My Spark?"
The portly scientist nodded. "More specifically: if I could give Penny her own Spark."
That caught him off guard, causing him to recoil slightly in surprise, and certainly got his full attention onto Polendina. "Give her a Spark? I thought you planned to carve off a portion of your Aura to give her a soul?"
Even after these past few years the intricacies of Aura and its implications of the Soul completely evaded him. He did know that his possession of Aura completely blew what understanding the locals of Remnant had of the topic out of the Energon pools. So, the good doctor's plan to give his artificial daughter Aura and the subsequent change in that plan completely threw Backblast for a loop as the humans would say.
"That was my plan originally." Peitro admitted. "But that started to change when I saw your Spark. It proved that mechanical beings could have a soul even without us humans giving them one. So I had decided she should have a true mechanical Soul instead of a butchered portion of one."
He rubbed his optics in annoyance. No matter how many times he explained it to them, the people of Remnant never understood what a Spark truly was. "I've told you time and time again. A Spark is not a soul. It's something both more and less than what your definition of a Soul is. Whatever the source of my Aura is, it most certainly isn't my Spark."
"But when we asked you, you said something in your Spark shifted upon the activation of your Aura. Would that not mean it is the source?"
A harsh tsk escaped him and he averted his gaze. It's not a point that he could argue and the fleshlin- doctor knew that. "Regardless, creating an artificial Spark is no simple task. I can think of only a handful of Cybertonians even capable of attempting such, and all of them are dead."
The dark skinned doctor frowned and adjusted his spectacles. "In spite of that. I'd still like to look."
He sighed, but still opened his Spark chamber for the doctor to examine. Immediately, Peitro began to get close and look around his Spark chamber, even taking a few pictures with his Scroll. It was a wonder how the man was so animated in spite of his disability. Memories of Decepticon scientists started to come to mind. The cold and ruthless logic of Shockwave provided the Decepticon army with an unparalleled edge against the Autobots throughout the war, and although it's of lesser known knowledge that commander Starscream had originally been a scientist; the Aerialcon's contributions to Decepticon science could not be ignored. Even Knockout, as eccentric as he was, proved to be an innovative researcher of how to physically modify Cybertronian biology.
"I didn't notice when you first showed me your Spark, but it's pulsing; like a heart."
Polendina's sudden words snapped him out of his revelry, and he nodded. "Yes."
"I had thought you said it was like the soul?"
A strangled groan escaped him. "Admittedly, my knowledge of your terminology and biology was incredibly lacking at the time, and my comparison of it to your soul is a misnomer at best."
"How so?"
"While its closest equivalent is still a soul. I have learned throughout my stay that it also performs similar functions to a human heart as well as your DNA."
"I… that is difficult to wrap my brain around." Although he didn't recognize the idiom, he still understood the intent enough to answer with a shrug. "May I get a sample of your Spark?"
"What? No! Why?"
"For Penny of course."
He closed his Spark chamber, leaned forward until his face was only a foot away from Polendina's, and slowly unfurled his helmet portions. Allowing his crimson glare to be seen by everyone in the hangar. The greying engineer leaned away from him, trace amounts of fear in his eyes. "There is nothing in existence that you could offer me that would convince me to let you try and carve off a portion of my Spark."
Peitro stammered a bit in shock while he leaned away and reformed his helmet over his face. "However,-" He pulled a cable from a socket by his wrist and hooked it into one of the Cybertonian sized terminals nearby. "-I can provide you with my CNA source code and request you be given enough synthetic energon to conduct your experiments."
The crippled doctor beamed at him. "Thank you! This data won't go to waste! I assure you!"
He smiled behind his helmet and nodded. "I'm certain it won't."
Besides, even if Polendina fails the data from the attempt will be priceless in its value to rebuild his species.
"Is this accurate?"
"I have no reason to believe he was being untruthful, sir." A sigh escaped him and he pinched the bridge of his nose, the cybernetic fingers painfully pressing against the skin. He leaned back and spun his chair around to look out the window at Atlas. The pride of the mighty Atlesean fleet drifted by, a swarm of aircraft docking, taking off, and landing on it. The Atlas Eternal was the first ship of the carrier design Backblast had provided them, and proved the efficacy of the design as well as revolutionizing naval doctrine the world over. Its success as well as those of Backblast's other designs hammered home just how little his people knew.
"We truly are small." He mused.
"Sir?"
"It's nothing." He spun around to face Winter. "Tell me, what was your impression of Backblast?"
She mulled over the question. "He is… odd."
"He is an alien."
Her head shook slightly from side to side. "That's not what I meant sir. I mean that he feels remarkably human for a being that hails from the stars."
He nodded. "I thought much the same upon meeting him. Although back then he reminded me more of those who dislike Faunus."
"In what way sir?"
"He always gave off this feeling of disdain, almost like he didn't like us as a species. Although this has visibly mellowed over the years."
"Perhaps it has to do with the differences in our biology?" He mulled the idea over before mostly dismissing it.
"I think it might have to do with him being a veteran. I encountered similar traits in fellow veterans of the Faunus War. Disdain for an enemy."
"But we were the first humans he's met, right?"
"Of course." The idea of humans off of Remnant was ridiculous. This planet was their cradle, not the stars. "But it's possible some of his enemies were organic like us. Possibly leading to a general dislike of beings not made from metal like him."
A nod. "Makes sense, sir. During the war our propaganda tried to demonize the Faunus, with significant success, and maybe something similar happened in his war?"
He hummed slightly. "Regardless, the information he provided could shake our civilization to its core. I trust you realize this is all classified at the highest level?"
She straightened. "Of course, sir! I will take it to the grave should it come to that."
His lips twitched into a smile. She was so loyal that it warmed his heart. Finding her before his colleagues did was truly a stroke of incredible luck. "Good. You're dismissed, Specialist."
It was only after she left that he allowed the distress he felt from her report show. The gods being real? Insanity. Pure and simple. Then again, he thought much the same about aliens before he met Backblast. How could Atlas, let alone the rest of the world, hold up against the divine should they decide to smite them? Gods cannot be fought. They have no army to clash with, no logistics to strike, no morale that can be broken, and no territory that can be seized. If they were to come knocking, the only thing anyone could do is bow their head in submission and hope for mercy!
He ran his hand down his face. No. Nothing is invincible. Just beyond one's current capacity to damage. With the right plan and time, certainly-
Stop.
Breathe.
There's no use in this train of thought. He must focus on what matters here and now. The Grimm are still a threat, the SDC strangles Atlas, and the Kingdoms are still disunified. He must focus on these three obstacles first and foremost, and now that he knows the Grimm have an origin he felt assured that mankind could provide them an end. Only when they have been removed and the plethora of minute issues that follow them are removed can he think about defending Remnant from such colossal threats.
Yes. Only then, but for now…
Paperwork.
The most frustrating of foes.
A.N./I'm sorry that this took some time, but I've been… distracted. I immediately started writing this chapter when I saw that people actually liked the story, and had nothing prepared outside of a general idea of what I wanted. I also spent time making a document with a list of my ideas I haven't started writing yet just so I don't forget to write them, and writing down every idea I've ever come up with has been taking time.
Darn ADHD.
Anyway, I've left deliberate gaps and technically incorrect information in BB's knowledge and recounting of Cybertonian knowledge to give a more realistic feel than him just quoting the wiki as if he were omniscient.
I also am just making some stuff up for the sake of convenience.
Peace muh dudes!