Title: Cybertron Superheroes
Description: ((Fanfiction.. give me a better title))
JW% - December 2, 2007 01:26 PM (GMT)
The plane was going to crash. It was miraculous that it had not already. Nobody in their right mind flew that low in this part of the city.
One man saw the passenger jet liner race over his head, his hat pulled off by the rushing wind as others ran in panic. Further down the street he saw the MetroTowers. The plane was going to crash.
"No... no... no..." It was all he could say, muttering it over and over again, lost and held helpless in the tabula of the moment. His horror was possibly worse than those around him. While theirs was the helpless terror of a bystander, unable to affect any change in the holocaustic situation that seemed inevitable, his was worse.
Because he could do something about it. He could stop it. Or at least try.
Weeks earlier, the young man swung the heavy axe and deftly hit the block of wood. The timber split with ease and he gathered up the pile he had created near the splitting block, carrying it into the house.
"Oh, Thomas." His mother said. "You don't have to do that. You're a guest here."
"It's no problem." He shrugged, easily bearing the weight. "I'm going to be warming myself by the fire tonight too you know. And since when have I ever been a guest here?"
"Since you moved to the big city son." His father said, not asking but instead just grabbing half the load of firewood and started stacking it by their old fireplace. "My boy going up in the world. A big time reporter, spending time with his poor backwater folks here in this smallville."
"Oh, you know you're never a stranger." His mother said, sitting down on the couch. "We'll keep your room open for when you come back to visit, but you're out there living on your own now, and we're fine. You don't need to worry about us at all."
"I'm a bit more worried about you." His father said. "You know, about your... birthright."
"Johnathan, I think the roast is done, would you go check it?" His mother asked. Johnathan gave a sigh and glanced at her sideways.
"It's still got a half hour to go Martha." Johnathan said.
"What is it?" Thomas glanced between the two of them.
"We... recently found something. Something we thought lost. Something we're pretty sure is yours." His mother said.
"Your mother and I wern't sure how to tell you this son." Jonathan said. "We all know you're... different. We told you that you're adopted."
"Yeah." Thomas nodded. Genetic testing had shown him to be related to his adopted mother and father, possibly as a nephew, but as both Johnathan and Martha were only children that left Thomas Powers as an enigma. "What is it though?"
"When... when you came to us that day... during the meteor shower..."
Bethanie watched wide eyed, the power point presentation reflecting on her glasses as the lecture continued. "The meteor shower continued for three years, peppering Earth with small fragments. It would begin in late november and continue until early march as Earths solar orbit brought it within the path of the rogue cloud of debris. At the time we had no way of detecting the incomming space particles, and it was very fortunate that no truely sizable impacts were suffered. Over 90% of the meteorites burned off due to friction of entering Earths atmosphere. Of the less than 10% that did survive planet fall, a majority of that was of an unknown element..."
A tightly folded bit of paper bounced off Bethanies forehead. She winced and glanced around, but she couldn't identify who had just perpetrated the assault.
"...the element, shown here under normal lighting, radiates an energy that we have not yet fully explored." The image on screen was a blueish crystal, that seemed to glow slightly golden. Then shown under black light the crystal seemed to shift colors dramatically, turning green with a purple glow. "This high energetic radiation has shown no harm to living creatures, and with roughtly the same cancer risk as exposure to sunlight. However, direct contact has been shown to cause continuous degradation to magnetic fields..."
Bethanie had been idlely unfolding the bit of paper, and now she squinted at it in the dark. It was a note. Bethanie blushed deeply, glad the classroom lights were out, and glanced around. In the darkness she saw the tall and muscular Piotr. He was her secret crush for sometime now. And the note said he wanted to meet with her. This was to good to be true.
The giggling beside her, Bethanie decided it was one of the cheerleader girls who had bounced the note off her face. This just caused Bethanies face to flush brighter. There was no way this was anything but a cruel joke. And now she'd missed the last half of the presentation.
"Alright class, tomorrow is going to be a quiz on this material after our field trip." There was the obligitory groaning. "This is to help you prepare for your report on the subject. I hope all of you at least have your outlines done by now, if not having started on actually writing it."
Bethanie pushed her way out of the classroom when the bell rang, hearing some whispered words between the cheerleaders. Her ears were burning throughout the rest of the day and she refused to look Piotr in the eye at all. She just wanted to go home now, and sit down with her computer. Things were so much easier on her computer. She could be who she wanted, not some little girl with big glasses who hid under bulky clothing because her body hadn't realised it had already passed the start of puberty.
Her adoptive Aunt and Uncle greeted her when she came home, but as much as she felt she could tell them anything, these constant school yard taunts were, as her Aunt Ming put it, "just something you have to live with." That, and the rest of the advice was all fine and good before hand, but they didn't help much during the heat of the moment. And they certainly didn't make hurt feelings go away afterwards either.
"Mister Blackrock, sir..." The young man looked up at his name across the desk. He alternately loved and dispised the desk. Loved it because it was his lifelong dream turned real, to be the head of his own highly successful research and development corporation. Hated it because it was his fathers desk. His father should have been still alive to head this corporation, and let young Gary come into his own in his own time. Or, at least, be there to give his son advice.
"Yes?" He said wearily, glancing first at the young woman who was addressing him, and then at the report she had just placed in his inbox. It was getting late, these reports would have to wait for tomorrow before he could give them his full attention.
"This is the information you asked me for regaurding Project: Energon. The attempt to utilize the meteor fragments to..."
"I named Project: Energon. Thank you, Miss..." He frowned, trying to recall where he'd heard or seen the blondes name. She was new to the team, fresh out of college. Some kind of super genius. "Beller." Work that line of reasoning fast enough and you can remember anyones name.
"Yes... well... it really doesn't seem feasible. Sir."
"The radiation these meteor fragments emit, it's highly energetic and highly stable, but sir... some of these applications imply that the crystals are akin to a perpetual motion machine. That's just not possible sir."
"You're aware of the research our rivals are doing regaurding the growth of these crystals through bombarding them with high energy beams?" Blackrock said, smiling beneath his pencil thin moustach.
"Vaugely sir." Beller shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable in these formal shoes. She wanted to get back to her mech-lab again, but these progress reports were nessisary for the investors. "A majority of their findings are still corporate secrets."
"So am I. With these plans, and our own research in that department, Project: Energon will come not just with a method of creating such a fuel source, but also with a number of products that are uniquely designed to use it. Should they reach the goal of growing those crystals ahead of us, which I fear they will, we'll still be in a highly marketable position with all of our applications for their new fuel source." Gary watched her expression. "I'm not going to convince you am I?"
"No sir." She shook her head. "That's why I'm offering some alternate energy sources with all my projects besides those crystals."
G.B. Blackrock smiled at his star Research and Development designer. "And believe me, I appreciate the safty net. But I'm also willing to take this gamble. The pay off of bringing Energon to life is going to be well worth it."
"In this lab we are attempting to study the long term effects the meteors unique radiation on various life forms. Simple creatures with short lifespans, such as bacteria give us an example of what extended exposure might do generations down the line, while more complex creatures like these insects, arachnids, amphibians, reptiles and rodents give us a better understanding of what exposure might cause to more complex lifeforms. Like us."
Bethanie felt a shove from behind and she stumbled into the glass case with the little golden and black spiders. The case shook a little bit, disturbing the family of spiders.
"Oops. Sorry Beth." Ian said. She shot him a look that she hoped would strike him dead. Instead all it did was make fight not to laugh. If it wasn't the popular girls picking on her, it was the moronic boys.
"Mister Ferris, Miss Archne, the tour is moving on." Their teacher was trying to shoo the two of them back to the rest of the now moving group. Ian gave a smirk and went to join his friends. Bethanie simply followed the group, keeping to the corners and trying to get a good view without making herself a victim to further assaults.
As the tour group walked away, one tiny little spider made a spectacular leap to freedom. It would be hours before anyone noticed the glass case had been disturbed, and as there was a whole family of spiders to count, some of them just recently hatched, nobody would miss the young spider. They would assume it had died.
They would be right of course, the little creatures fate was practically sealed already, but what feats it would perform in the meantime would be amazing, had anyone known about them.
Thomas Powers stepped towards the devise. It was roughtly the size of a cradle. About the shape of one too. Battered and beaten metal, or possibly plastic from it's texture. The top quarter of it could have been transparent had there been no dirt covering it.
His parents said they found him near this devise? Had he... been inside of it? Tentively, as if he were afraid of damaging it, he brushed away at the dirt on the transparent cover. There didn't look like there was room inside of it, even for a newborn child. And it wouldn't have been comfortable, inside looked like a mold for a skeleton.
He frowned. His parents... adoptive parents he had to amend, as he always thought of them as his true parents even though they admitted they had not birthed him... knew nothing more about this strange devise than he did. They had simply found it there, and for the longest time had lost it, burried. When they'd found it again, somehow wrapped in the roots of a tree that had blown over in a recent windstorm, they had hidden it out in their second barn. An old run down place that Thomas had liked to play in as a kid and even now enjoyed the solitude it offered. Both Johnathan and Martha had let Thomas have his privacy in dealing with whatever internal thoughts he might be having at this moment. They said they were going to wait for him back in the house.
He had continued to brush off loose and somewhat less than loose dried dirt clods from the dull grey thing, until he uncovered a section that looked to be in the shape of a heraldic shield. "A family crest?" He thought scrapping at it. Embossed into the shield shape was a symbol, seemingly made of a different substance, this one rust colored. After clearing some of the dirt away he looked at it more clearly.
It looked sort of like a face. Grim, determined, with a flat nose and set jaw, the eyes a jewel like shape and a crown on it's head. What interested him possibly the most were the streaks to the sides of the mouth extending from the geometric shapes that looked like eyes. It was as if it was crying.
Thomas pulled back as the symbol lit up from within. Ever since he was a child he had 'heard voices'. It hadn't been until much later in his life that he had started being able to pick out specific ones from the white noise. They would deliever the news, the weather, and they'd sing to him. In short, Thomas had in his head a radio reciever, and he could pick up the local stations on a clear day, if he concentrated. It was one of many odd things that has plauged his childhood, and when he had finally identified the source he was surprisingly relieved that it had been something so mundane.
He heard a voice now as well. Only it wasn't from any local radio station. It was from the little pod in front of him. At first it seemed like pure gibberish, then he actually started making out what... could have been intended as words.
"Bah-weep-Graagnah-wheep-ni-ni-bong my son..."
The little golden and black spider danced it's way across the wall, dropping down and scurrying under a doorway to avoid the light and noise of the room. It climbed up the wall and spotted a softly glowing substance it had mistakenly come to assume was food, after having eaten several slivers of it back in it's containment cell.
"...and here we are testing the meteorite cyrstals against various forms of radiation bombardment. As you can see, certain combinations of charged particles results in different kinds of crystaline growths..."
A particle beam lanced down from the projector and the little golden and black spider was caught in the blast. The softly glowing blue cyrstal absorbed the energy from the beam, lancing out shards in all different directions.
"...unfortunately a majority of the growths proove to be unstable." The crystal shards shattered and turned grey, reducing themselves to simple sillicate powder, leaving just the original crystal in it's original state behind. The little spider's fried corpse was also reduced to ash, unseen to anyone.
What was odder however was the little blue sphere that drifted away from the ash. This test had been done dozens of times before, the simple demonstration wasn't being monitored for the tour group. A pity then that nobody noticed the tiny will o' the wisp flicker as it floated through the air, passing through the wall of the room and back into the room where the tour continued on.
Bethanie was leaning against the wall at the time and suddenly jerked back, something burning her hand. She looked at it, and for a moment it seemed to be a little spider, black and gold, and then it flickered, turning into a pulsing blue glow. This little spark of energy seemed to be absorbed into her hand, leaving a spot like she had suffered a ciggerette burn.
"What the shock?" Bethanie muttered to herself, sure she couldn't have seen what she thought she had.
Then the room started spinning.
"I hope this message finds you well my son, for I fear I will be unable to deliever it in person." Thomas Powers stood wide eyed, certain that nobody in the world was hearing this but him, and yet just as certain that the whole world could hear it. "I am Alpha Trion, and when we learned that our home world, Cybertron, was threatened with imminent destruction from an impending meteor shower, I was one of many who undertook the task of clearing a safe path for our world. I fear now however that I will be unable to complete the task, and that Cybertron is doomed. You, my child, are being released to safty while I attempt to fight my way free, both of the oppresive military that seeks to use this asteroid belt as a fuel source and a weapon against their own planet, and the asteroids themselves. The radioactive cyrstals in these space rocks is draining my life, even as I am using their energies to sustain myself. I can only pray that this stasis pod finds its way free of the meteor swarm. I ask only that, when you have fully formed, you uphold the noblity of the Autobot cause, and support the right of freedom to all sentient beings. Farewell, my first and greatest... Farewell Optimus Prime."
Bethanie Archne wasn't sure how she had stayed on her feet. She mumbled something about needing to go to the bathroom and staggered away, hearing snickering jabs at her period kicking in. She wanted to strangle them for that, but she could barely see straight.
She didn't feel any better after throwing up. She didn't feel much better on the bus ride back to school. Piotr was there though, he asked her if she was feeling alright. That made her feel better. And then she threw up again. Needless to say, she was sent home.
Everything was a blur of nightmare images. She knew she was at home, but she wasn't sure if she was herself. She felt different. Strange pains and sensations, tearing their way through her body, changing it, making it something it wasn't before.
"Beth?" Ming asked, knocking on the girls door. "Are you awake? Would you like some dinner?" Ming opened the door and peaked in, seeing the bed wadded up.
"How is she?" Ben asked. Ming glanced at her husband and shrugged.
"Still asleep. I hope she's alright. The windows open, maybe she wanted some fresh air. Clear her head. You know how dizy she gets breathing to many car fumes in the city. Maybe that field trip was just to much for her."
The two of them nodded and headed back to the living room. The news was doing a follow up on the story about the jet that had crashed the other week, and the mysteries that surrounded it. A week old newspaper had the first, and to date the best, report on the incident. Written by a new reporter, Thomas Powers.
The plane was going to crash. Nobody in their right mind flew that low in this part of the city. One man saw the passenger jet liner race over his head, his hat pulled off by the rushing wind as others ran in panic. Further down the street he saw the MetroTowers.
He couldn't let that plane crash.
"Prime Jets: Maximum burn!" He declared, his voice booming with command. His body changed, no longer the mild mannered reporter in a conservative suit. Blocky armor surrounded him, extending from his very skin and shreding the clothing he had worn. He didn't mind, the red silver and blue armor covered him completely, protecting him as he launched into the sky after the jet liner. A maks of silver covered his mouth while a helm of blue protected his head. Antenna extended from his ears and a crest ended in a silver five pointed diamond on his forehead.
The red bolt raced from city level, swiftly overtaking the jetcraft that it looked so tiny compared to. His back mounted thrusters flared brightly as he grabbed ahold of the nose of the craft and pulled upwards. The nose of the jet lifted.
Straining with all his willpower a blueish glow extended from his hands, spreading out across the hull of the plane. It shaped itself into a solid cup, and he pushed against it, twisting. The passenger jet was forced to bank hard, harder than it was designed to. Bolts loosened and plating started to tear, but it missed the towers. Barely. Windows in the towers cracked or shattered from the force of the passing, but the building itself stood.
What had once been the man Thomas Powers, what was now Optimus Prime pushed and strained, trying to keep the plane aloft long enough for it to make a water landing in the bay. There just wasn't room anywhere else close.
His strength gone, his energy depleted, he let go. The energy construct fading as he dropped and the flames from his thrusters fizzled. He could hear the radio signals in the air, how emergency crews had been launched. It was over. He could rest now.
The road was hard, and he bounced as he struck it. Twice he impacted the ground and then momentume lifted him and carried him further out towards the docks. The thunder of the jet above and in front of him was deafening. Finally he skidded to a hault.
By the time he came around rescue crews were already working to save the crew and passengers of the water landed air plane. Optimus Prime pulled himself to his feet, staggering to look at what he had accomplished.
"Hey, you did it." Came a voice of a man on the warf who had been watching the event play out on live news, coverage via various news helicopters that had tried to keep up and failed. "You were that guy that flew up under the plane and turned it. The red and blue armor, it's just like they showed on tv. You did it! You saved them. Oh man, oh man, I know some people who are going to want to talk to you!"
Optimus Prime looked at the man and nodded solemnly. "Yes." He said simply, still feeling far to shell shocked to answer with anything else.
With that, he stepped into the center of the street, and launched skyward again. He had to go home, to return to being Thomas Powers again, to file the report.
The young woman who had been Bethanie Archne woke up at around five in the morning, the day after her high school field trip had turned so bad. The light from below illuminated her quite clearly, though nobody else could probably see her. She blinked, looking into the mirror reflective windows of the skyscraper.
What looked back was black and golden armor plated, smooth curves and seamless plating. When she inhaled the golden armor on her chest expanded, more like fabric than the alloy it appeared to be. Extending from her upper arms were long thin multijointed legs. She though a moment, and then flexed them.
Then she realised she was hanging upside down. She reached out and touched the slick surface, and then crawled onto it, still watching herself in the reflection. She moved with the grace of a feline. Incredibly she clung to the building with no support and felt entirely natural as she proceeded to strike various sensual poses for herself.
"Mmmm." She said, enjoying the sensation of being Blackarachnia.
***(To be Continued?)***
JW% - December 27, 2007 07:01 AM (GMT)
Was he really going to die like this? Bleeding out in an alleyway behind a dumpster, only a few feet from an open door. He couldn't believe it, but he had to admit, that's what was happening. His stomach hurt badly, the bullet already out the small of his back, just below the ribcage he figured. Felt like it had taken out his whole stomach, all he had left was the skin of his pudgy gut, overlapping his belt and covered in his work uniform shirt, the blood staining everything there.
In the vaugest way he was almost afraid he deserved this dishonorable fate. He'd gotten sloppy. He knew it at the time, he knew it now, and it burned him. It was a dull sheen of red over the steadily blackening tunnel his vision was becomming. At least he thought his anger was the red haze. He could have blood in his eyes, or any number of other things. He felt weak, his limbs cast in lead, he could barely push his chest in and out, drawing breath. He wasn't coughing, he knew his lungs were fine. But he was light headed, feeling nauseous. Could he still throw up now that he didn't have a stomach? No... he had a stomach, the bullet had probably blown out his intestines. He knew anatomy well enough. He could probably even name the muscles it had punched through, knocking him away from his target.
Two of them, with a third back in the car. He could still hear them. Big frat boys, one the ex-boyfriend of Missie who wouldn't take no for an answer. She'd talked about him, and when the two of them came at her in the dark alley behind the club she'd identified him by name. Even had time to scream. Her protector had heard her, he'd offered to escort her to the car, and then he came at them. They were big boys. Football scholarship possibly. She was a tiny little thing, liking her naughty schoolgirl look complete with pig tails and pleated skirt. Her protector, well he balanced things back in favor of her getting to her car without any major incident.
That little pistol, half filled coke bottle silencer and all, threw the balance of power on it's ear. And threw Rhigel Noxworth behind the dumpster to bleed out, not to mention knocking Missies . The bouncer had been dealt with, and now they were dragging her the long way to the front parkinglot. Rhigel, known to the girls as Ox, ground his teeth and clenched his eyes shut. Oh, his boss had probably called for help already, but even with Missie struggling as she was, they would have her stuffed away in the car and driven off before any help could arrive. What they did with her then... well they were in things past their necks as it was, shooting Ox like that. Whatever happened, Missie wouldn't like it.
Missie wouldn't like it at all. Neither would Desire, Onyxia, Whynnie, or any of the other girls. They counted on him. He'd started this job just because he needed the cash. Needed it bad, and he was a bit over qualified. He might only look strong, but he worked out regularly, strength, agility, endurance, everything he could. Except toning up his appearance. He didn't think about that. No reason to lose bulk when you could build it.
When he'd been a child, Rhigels father had drilled into him the value of self. When you start out you can't even breath on your own. You're brought into this world, hopefully with love, and you start building yourself up. Your mind, your body, they were the only thing that was really yours. Both needed to be nurtured and tended, grown into something strong, something solid. Rhigels father had passed away, but the young man took the lessons to heart in a strong way. He set himself a rigid schedual of workouts, and he attacked his schoolwork with a blunt force determination that few could equal. He learned despite the public school system, tearing all the knowlege he could from them and then diving into his own studies. That's why he needed the job. To pay for college. And with his personal body building, and his unfortunate appearance, he looked like a bouncer even before he walked in.
The Avalon XXX Girls had given him a purpose. A steady paycheck, enough to meet his student loan payments and scrape out a decent living. More than that, the club had given him something he hadn't managed to hammer out of public school or pull out of his gym or library. Friends. Almost family even, though he still kept in contact with Momma Noxworth. Missie wasn't the brightest girl, but he'd been there when she'd hired on, and she was like a little sister to him. He'd just watched them drag his screaming and crying little sister down the alleyway. And he could barely lift a finger to stop them. The red haze of anger was building faster than the blackness of unconciousness. He couldn't move his arms and his legs felt cold and numb, but he could move them at least. No balance, couldn't even sit up straight, but he could move them. And he could move his hands.
The tunnel vision was getting bad. He couldn't hear them anymore, not after the crashing. They'd knocked a full trashcan in front of the fenced gate that shut off this alleyway from the clubs front parkinglot. He'd heard it as if through cotton. He couldn't hear the traffic from the interstate as people who wealth and means tended to drive past this place not even looking at it. He couldn't hear the music from the club, or even the television from the breakroom, and that door was still open.
He'd left the television on a Nationa Geographic program as he'd offered to escort Missie to her car after she'd clocked out. Something about Africa. The old television flickered as it showed a stampied of rhinoceros, charging at the camera through probably several miles of telescopic lenses. One of them charged through the screen, the camera angle changing and the beast kept running, sparkling for a moment like a tiny pinpoint of light and then suddenly as a still growing but ghostly, immaterial rhino.
Ox ground his teeth again. It was a bad habit, but given that he'd just been shot and hadn't even bothered to shout or scream he could be excused. The side of his head, where he'd shaved it for his mowhawk, felt the cold metal of the dumpster. The spark passed through the dumpster and sunk into his body.
He heard Missie scream one last time, probably as she was being shoved into their car. Nobody else would hear it, not if they were in the club, and Onyxia was in the middle of her dragoness set. Ox opened his hand, realising that he had been holding his Star of David pendant. He'd never really been a practicer of the faith, his own beliefs somewhat more agnostic, but his parents had and his mother had given him the pendant. It had made him feel better, slightly, as his strength left his body. It was big and heavy too, made of cast iron. Made him look imposing when he wore it. He looked down, still seeing things through tunnel vision, and he realised he'd crushed the pendant in his bare hand.
If he could do that, he could get to his feet. With a surge that was more determination than strength or balance, he pushed himself to his knees and grabbed the dumpster for support. He pulled himself up, his massive frame had just enough fat on it to make him look slightly out of shape, while most of it was pretty solid muscle. Not solid enough to stop a bullet... but solid enough to stand on.
If he could stand up, he could take a step. One foot lifted, and he shifted his weight forward. He started to fall, started to grab the dumpster again. If he fell he wouldn't get back up, he knew this. But if he couldn't let go of the dumpster, he couldn't take a step forward either. He fell, and his other foot just barely managed to get beneath him before he completely lost his balance. The next step was easier, he had momentum building.
If he could take a step, he could walk. If he could walk, he could run. If he could run, he could charge. He could get to them in time. Just one foot in front of the other, and don't let anything stop you.
When the foggy darkness momentarily cleared he was laying almost face down, in the front parking lot. Missie was trying to lift him up and was babbling something about how they were going to fix him up and how he was going to be alright. Mostly she couldn't stop talking about how he'd saved her.
There wasn't a fence blocking the alleyway anymore. Trashcans and one dumpster were littering the parkinglot, as if they'd been hit by a car ramming it's way through the alleyway. Two of the three frat boys were laying as if they'd been thrown across the parkinglot. One of them was face down on the hood of a car, the other had smashed into the back of a pickup and looked to have a broken leg from how he fell. The car they had pushed Missie in, for a moment before Ox had gotten their attention enough that she could run back into the club and get help, was now upside down, and on the other side of the interstate freeway. The driver was still awake and marginally unharmed, considering what he'd been through, but the car was wrapped around him and there was no way he was going to get out.
"And you were covered in this... this green and tan armor... like some kind of samurai from those comic books... but you burst through the fence head first! Like a Rhino, Ox!"
"Oh." He managed to rumble out, his eyes flickering open and closed. "Guess I'm Rhinox then." He tried to laugh, and only passed out.
JW% - December 27, 2007 07:25 AM (GMT)
((And I KNOW somebody is reading this, as disjointed as it is. You don't have to wait until I'm "finished" before responding, because I have no idea if I'll ever quite be "finished". This is going to be an ongoing project for me, whenever I can come up with something interesting to add. If anyone has any thoughts, comments, questions, or anything else, please feel free to post. Most importantly, I'd like a decent title for it.))
Star The Wanderer - January 17, 2008 07:17 PM (GMT)
((I finally got around to getting to read this story today. My mom had to have surgery and I got 4, thats right, 4 days off. While she's still sleepy, I've got tons of free time to kill cause I need to stay at the house. The first one was too Superman/Spiderman for my tastes really. An intresting spin on the Spiderman tale though. The second one, is without a doubt, one of your best stories I've ever read. I'd be intrested in reading more of them, when of course time permits. I don't have a title suggestion for you however, which no doubt will lead to more bitching from you, but at least I read the stories and made a comment.))
JW% - January 17, 2008 09:42 PM (GMT)
((Much appreciated anyway. I had another one that was strongly inspired by The Shadow(or Batman I guess. G1 Mirage gets to be a playboy millionare and a stealthy fear mongering vigilante) and continued the Spider-Man-esque origins of Blackarachnia. Then some vauge ideas like a Flash-esque story for Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. I wanted to nail out the "copy cat" storylines first, with Optimus Prime being a very Superman like figure(particularly when given Optimus Primals jetpack), who was supposed to play the role of central figure for this drama. Maybe not the main character, but some one that everyone plays off of(Blackarachnia eventually confronts him, in a situation similar to when Spiderman confronted the Fantastic Four for the first time. Sunstreaker takes up heroing because Optimus Prime is getting media coverage and Sunstreaker wants attention too, ect). Also had a silly idea of things like Inferno(G1) being a firefighter who discovers his powers and he runs afoul of Inferno(BW) who's a serial arsonist, or Megatron(based on G1) being a criminal mastermind runs afoul of Megatron(based on BW) who is a criminal AND corporate mastermind with political dreams.
But I got bored with copy cat stories. I mean, I'm ALREADY doing fanworks, I'm not creating new characters just adapting them, why bracket myself even tighter? So I tried to set off with something original. Personally, I felt the Rhinox story to be a bit of a failure. It felt disjointed(unintentionally this time as I wrote it as a single piece instead of trying to tie a number of short scenes togeter) and after the whole build up there doesn't seem to be any climax. His whole Hulk-esque rampage is unwritten. Admittably there wasn't much that happened during it that you couldn't get from the aftermath report, but on rereading the ending felt confusing because of that gap. I wasn't sure if I should continue after that.
For one thing, they all basically have the same "powers". They use them differently of course, but it would all be the same. Augmented physical abilities(speed, strength, ect), nigh-invunerable in their armor, full communications suite(listening to radio waves, ect), and the ability to create energon constructs(like the Omnicons could. Optimus Prime used it to create a Green Lantern-esque field around the plane he was saving, Blackarachnia uses it to create her energy webs, ect). They'd also have the same Smallville inspired weakness of the ridiculously common "Meteor Rocks" in this case Energon Crystals(to much Energon build up and they return to "beast mode" in this case their nonarmored human form) though, at least for the Superman inspired tales, it's going to be used alot like Kryptonite.
I dunno. I might write more. If time permits.))
JW% - January 30, 2008 12:16 AM (GMT)
Doctor Chase shivered in the cold. It was dark on the bridge that night, fog rolling off the water far below, and not a single other car around to witness the black sedan pull up. Two big men stepped out, hauling Chase with them, his own feet bound in a block of cement.
“I won’t talk! I swear! Just leave me here, I didn’t see anything. I have a wife. A son! He needs me… they say he might never be able to walk…”
The two thugs ignored the pleading. They knew what they were doing. They knew what could happen if this man testified to what he saw them doing in that dark alley. Killing a police man was not something you got away with, even in this city.
“I hate all this heavy lifting.” The thug wearing a vest under his coat grumbled, lifting Doctor Chase over the railing.
The doctor started to scream. It was a waste of breath. The streets were empty, the bridge held nothing but fog and his three executioners. He knew it was a waste, and he screamed anyway. It sounded empty, hollow, flat. The fog swallowed the sound up as easily as the water would swallow his body in a moment.
There was something that answered however. A sound that drown out his desperate scream, a sound that was hideous and inhuman, echoing off the bridge in a way sound was not meant to. It was the sound of laughter. Cruel, mocking laughter, the kind you hear when someone isn’t just witnessing this kind of event, but is enjoying it in their own sick way.
“What was that?” The driver pulled out his gun and glanced around, while the other two thugs left their prey to defend themselves.
The laughter sounded again, maliciously echoing where it shouldn’t, as if the final bells were ringing from hell.
“Who’s there?” The driver shouted, aiming into the fog where he thought the voice came from. He was wrong, but it didn’t matter. “Show yourself, or I’ll plug you where you stand!”
There was a voice that came with the laugh. A deep booming voice, with a cultured lilt that said the owner wasn’t just stronger, he was better than them in every way imaginable. “You murdered a policeman Silas Detwiler.” The drivers eyes glanced about like pinballs going for the high score. The bridge was empty, the night was dark, but whoever this was knew his name.
“Th… this ain’t good.” Panic twisted the tongue of the large thug who had put Dr. Chase on the railing. “I heard about this guy. Tex’ told me about a group that got tagged by some guy on South Street. They never even saw him!”
“Shut up!” Silas snapped, panic starting to creep into his own voice. “Tex’ is out of his skull.”
“Did you think you’d actually get away with it?” The voice was back, and just as loud as before. It felt closer now, listening to it was like watching a predator circle you. “Did you think I wouldn’t know?”
“Think you’re smart, eh buddy?” Silas said, aiming into the swirling fog and pulling the trigger on his semiautomatic. “Take this!” His words were drown out by the cracking of his shots. He would fire, then point at something else at random, another swirl of the fog or maybe his unseen foe, and fire again. Finally his clip was empty.
The sound of his gunfire still echoed in their ears when the laughter came back, more mocking than before if that were possible. “Pathetic” the voice told them.
Silas snarled, reaching into the car. From underneath the front seat he drew out his answer to that mocking laughter and taunt. The sound of fully automatic gunfire ripped through the air, and his two partners hit the pavement in panic, pulling Doctor Chase to safety with them. The submachine gun had a noticeably larger clip to empty into the cloying mists, and it was sometime before Silas finally was pulling the trigger on empty while panting in fear.
He waited, listening. The ringing in his ears from his own gunfire could be heard. That was all that could be heard. There was the briefest of moments of silence, confirming nothing but allowing for hope to seed in their dark hearts.
“You got him!” The big thug said, pulling himself to his feet. “Filled that windbag full of holes!”
Silas let a confident smile creep across his face. “Sure as shooting I d…” He was interrupted as something heavy slapped him across the face. His head snapped back from the impact of something he hadn’t seen, and he lost his balance sitting down heavily on the bridge.
“Silas?” The vest wearing thug climbed to his feet with his larger companion. “What are you doing?”
Silas scrambled to his feet, looking around in the darkness and the fog. He should be able to see something, anything, but there was nothing around him. He put up his fists in defense. Something hit him in the side of the head again, and he staggered to the side. A return blow met empty air.
The two thugs stood slack jawed as their boss took swings at nothing. Silas felt what seemed like a gun butt slammed into his stomach. The pain made him double over, clutching his belly. Then an explosion of force connected with his jaw. He bit his tongue as his head snapped backwards.
Something bunched up his coat, and a tremendous strength pulled at his collar, lifting him into the air. He pedaled his feet trying to find the ground beneath him and found nothing. That booming voice echoed again, for all to hear.
“You’ve committed murder, Silas Detwiler. Now you’re going to confess to it.”
“Hah!” Silas snapped back, only to find himself sailing through the air. He hit the pavement and skidded, his head bouncing against the road. He tried to pick himself up, shaking his head as if to clear it.
“You will confess.” The voice told him with certainty. “Because if you don’t, I’ll be there. You can never escape me. No more than you can escape your guilty conscience.”
“You don’t scare me!” It would have helped if he hadn’t stammered out the words.
“Oh, so foolish.”
Silas felt himself thrown through the air again. Something hard slammed into his stomach and knocked the wind out of him. While he gasped for breath his body was pulled along the railing of the bridge. He managed to fill his lungs again as he was thrown over the side. For a moment he was weightless, then something caught hold of his collar again and he dangled there.
“I’ll do it! I’ll do it! I’ll confess!”
“You will go to the police station on Second Avenue.” The voice didn’t instruct, it didn’t command, it informed him of facts yet to happen. “You will surrender yourself to Sergeant Prowlove. And you will do it now!”
With the last command ringing in his ears louder than the gunshots had seemed to, Silas felt his body swing out from over the edge of the bridge and fly through the air. It was a perfect throw, landing him in his own car, where he lay in a bloody heap, unable to do more than moan.
That mocking laugh sounded once more, seeming to take great if perverse joy in his pain and misery.
By now the two thugs who had witnessed this event were already running for their lives. Up ahead of them they saw something in the fog. A shimmering of the air like heat ripples where there shouldn’t have been any. Then they saw him.
He was wearing some kind of metal plating, like armor. Dark blue, white, and silver. It covered his whole body in slim angular lines that betrayed now joint yet gave the impression that no movement or flexibility was sacraficed. His helmet was round, and a face was revealed between two curved vents. The humorless mouth in this mirage opened and that booming evil laugh echoed out.
He didn’t have to give them instructions. They’d heard what he had to say anyway. They weren’t going to argue, or even look back. Both of them scurried to their car and jumped in, shoving aside the injured Silas to make room. The vest wearing one gunned the engine and the car raced away into the night. If they weren’t heading straight towards the Second Avenue Police Station, they knew they were heading somewhere much worse.
Meanwhile Doctor Chase lay there on the cold wet pavement, his legs bound by the hardened cement the thugs had poured over his feet. He shivered involuntarily as the armored man approached him. The midnight blue and white plating seemed to waver like he was seeing it through steam, the whole visage seeming quite unreal. That is until the Mirage pulled out a gun from his armor. Doctor Chase clenched his eyes shut and whimpered as the shots rang out.
“You are Doctor Chase, you teach science at Portland University.” That dread voice said. Doctor Chase looked down to see the cement had been broken off his feet without injuring him. When he looked up he saw a dark gauntleted hand offering to help him to his feet.
“Y… yes…” The Doctor agreed shakily. He knew he should thank this fearsome stranger, but the words came out wrong. “Who are you?”
“Tonight I saved your life.” The armored Mirage intoned while a ghost of a taxi cab drove up beside them. Doctor Chase was on his feet again, and somehow the armored figure had slipped a ring into his hand. It was gold, at least in color, with a large red insignia on it in the shape of a stylized face wearing a crown. The face looked to be crying the way the empty eyes flowed down the cheeks. “That means your life from this point onward is mine. You are now one of my agents, and I have many agents around the world. When I have need of your particular skills I will call on you, until then live your life honorably, knowing you have a purpose to fulfill. I will be watching over you. And your wife. And your son. Just as I watch over this city. You will never notice me unless I require you.”
“I… okay.” The door to the Taxi swung open and admitted him. The driver’s name was Harold Ufferman according to his ID badge, and he looked solid as a rock. He looked kind, perhaps a little melancholic, but solid and dependable. The type of person you’d want working for you.
When Doctor Chase glanced back the door to the taxi had shut and there was no one on the bridge. It was empty, the man who had saved him fading into the nothingness that he had arrived in.
“Rough night, eh?” Harold asked after a few blocks, puffing out his cheeks in a sigh as was his habit. He’d gained the nickname Huffer from it.
“Uh huh.” Doctor Chase was starting to realize it was over. His body was still shaking, but he somehow knew the nightmare was over.
“Yeah…” The driver shrugged. “I know the feeling.” He leaned back to look at his fare, putting one hand on the arm rest of the passenger side. On his hand he wore the exact same gold and red ring. “Welcome to the club.”
Prisma Nova - January 30, 2008 03:56 AM (GMT)
I ventured to read tonight your fics since the beginning. I actually enjoy them greatly. I like the "heroes revisited as Cybertronians" aspect of it. I will wait for your next story.
Star The Wanderer - January 30, 2008 05:06 AM (GMT)
This last one was a good play on Mirage, but overall I didn't really like it. It just didn't feel like your usual effort was put into it. I might just be tired. However, I have been thinking about better titles for you, I still have nothing, however I wanted to let you know tha at least I'm trying. I know I gave Computron some good suggestions when he asked for help with his book, I just want to be fair, despite our past of generally not getting along.
JW% - January 30, 2008 06:32 AM (GMT)
What do you mean we generally don't get along? Get along pretty much as well as anyone else around here. Still, I appreciate the effort. It's not nessisary(if you can't think of anything good, don't bother) but it is appreciated.
I'm currently leading to "Heroes of the Spark" or something like that. I dunno, still working on it. Thank you, both of you, for your support.
The last one I took from a scholastic kids novelization of The Shadow
. I tried to spice up the narrative a little, but all the action was directly from the book, which in turn was directly from the movie(which I enjoyed more than The Phantom, but was not one of my favorite superhero movies). So once more it's not me writing so much as it's me adapting. We never get the reveal that Mirage is actually the wealthy socialite playboy by day(it was running to long and I was growing bored with it) so that's a detail I'm going to fill in when/if I start tying these storylines together(Optimus Prime starts recruiting Autobots, and Mirage is one of them that joins, though who can trust a Mirage?)
Silas Detwiler is meant to be Swindle. Tex refers to Vortex(I was hoping to include Brawl, Blastoff, and Onslaught as well... maybe later). Sergeant Prowlove... Prowl. Huffer is pretty obvious. Doctor Chase could either be the Throttlebot Chase, or a referance to Chip Chase(I prefer to think of it as both).
I was going to do Blackarachnia/Spider-Man origin up to the point where Uncle Ben dies(of course, now I can't decide which of Beth's guardians are going to buy it), which would include Spider-Man's brief career as a wrestler... translated of course it's Blackarachnia's brief career as a stripper. Meh. Might just skip this whole bit.
After buying the MiG-29 Dreadwing figure however, I do have inspiration for how to do the first "Villains Perspective" story in this series. Now if I can just find the time...
JW% - February 4, 2008 04:26 AM (GMT)
"Nobody move!" Despite the commanding words and the artificially booming voice, the tone was indecisive and almost sounded scared. "If everyone does what I say, nobody will get hurt!"
The bank guard, Sam, wanted to run to his partner, who lay on the floor, but the he saw the young man who was shouting demands looking right at him. Everything had happened so fast, he wasn't sure what to do. It wasn't like they hadn't had the warning signs. The kid had looked edgy in all the wrong ways. What creeped Sam out the most is the kid had looked right at him when he had whispered his reply on the radio. It was like that kid heard the radio waves.
Sam had heard about the new so called super heroes in the city. The one called Optimus Prime had already had an interview on national news. He sounded a little to good to be true really, but this wasn't Optimus Prime. This wasn't even close to Optimus Prime. This guy was in grey and blue, with massive wings extending from his shoulders, and from his forearms. The face concealing mask was more like a single dome, like a fencing mask that pulled itself over the kids head. The whole armor had sort of flashed into place, some parts seeming to move and seal themselves, while others simply appeared in a flash of light.
The kid had been twitch, yeah, but nobody expected that armor to flash into place when Sams partner Blair had gone over to ask the kid if he was alright and needed any help. Blair had been flung through the air like a rag doll and bounced against the banks big bullet proof windows. The bank patrons at first wern't sure what was going on. They milled about confused until the kid started shouting demands. They listened, even if they didn't seem to be obeying.
"Blair, you alright?" Sam said, starting to cross the distance to where his partner lay, always keeping one eye on the kid. Blair groaned and tried to roll to his feet, but didn't make it. Sam frozen in place when the armor around the kids gauntlet shifted, forming a cylinder on his forearm. The blast took a chunk out of one of the heavy wooden tables used the discuss loans at. The wooden debris smoked and burned. The Energon crystal paperweight went flying, it's glow bouncing off the wall and went rolling across the floor. Sam was surprised the cyrstal didn't shatter from the impact, though it appeared to crack. Oh well, it was gaudy anyway and there were more important things to worry about.
"I said nobody move!" The kid shouted again, his voice cracking despite the artifical replication of it. "Everyone down on the floor!"
Sam was getting worried now. This kid had some power behind him clearly, but he was still just a kid. He didn't know what he was doing. The kids clothing, before the transformation, had been kinda torn. Lower middle class, had a hopeless look on his face, and now he was... what? Trying to rob the bank? Sam couldn't think of anything stupider, but it was the most obvious answer.
"Do as he says." Sam snapped, filling his voice with authority and lowering himself to his knees slowly, his hands raised behind his head. "Nobody is going to get hurt here." The bank patrons started to obey, lowering themselves to the floor. It was nearly impossible to see the kids face, but his body language said that he was even more frustrated now.
"Now... I didn't catch your name Sir..." Sam prompted, looking at the armored bank robber.
"I am... um... Dark Wind... no Dread Wing! I am Dreadwing!" The kid was making it up on the fly. Better humor him, he was just as nervous, no more nervous, than everyone else. With him being the one with the gun, or whatever that was that atomized the table, him being nervous was the last thing they wanted.
"Dreadwing. Cool name. Now what do you want Dreadwing?" Sam soothed.
"I know what you're doing! You're waiting for the police to arrive because she hit the silent alarm!" He pointed at Georgia whos dark complexion tried to turn pale. She normally was pretty laid back and relaxed, a pleasant teller all around, but with a gun pointed at her face she looked like she was going to faint. "It ain't gonna happen! I blocked the signal."
"Alright, Dreadwing, what do you want?" Sam said, putting more command in his tone. He would have felt better if the gun had been pointed at him. It might not be his bank, he might not even know anyone in here but Blair, Georgia, Fargo the loan consultant and Harold the manager who wasn't even here today, but it was his job to protect it. He was the security gaurd and while he knew his place was just to reassure the customers, he was a figure head, but at the moment he didn't care. His pulse was pounding in his head and his face was growing flushed, all his training was gone from his mind. What he'd learned was now either going to be instinct, or ignored.
"All your money." The kid stated, and Sam repressed a rush of blood. He wanted to tell the kid how stupid this was, that he'd never get away with it. "Open up the vault and give me big bags of money." The kid had seen way to many cartoons, clearly.
"None of us have the combination for the vault. Only the manager does, and he has today off."
"What? You're lying! I saw them making deposites and withdrawls." One hand jabbed at Sams chest, the other swept over the patrons who were looking up from their position on the floor.
"We keep enough on hand, outside of the vault, to cover average daily transactions." Sam explained, thinking that was right. Once more, in the heat of the moment his mind was blanking as he tried to keep himself from knocking down this dumb punk.
"Fine. I'll take that. All of it! And if it's not enough, I'll tear the vault open with my own hands!"
"What if we don't have any bags?" Sam taunted. He was about to follow up when the kid snapped full focus on him, the weapon forming itself again. Sam dove to the ground as a wash of heat rushed over him, the force of it slamming him to the ground and forcing the wind out of him. The wall behind him blew out onto the street.
"Don't mess with me! I am in charge here! I have the power! Nobody else can match me. I could tear this place down to the ground, burn everyone in here!" He rounded on the tellers again. "Fill those bags!" The started to comply, though the bags were rather small, and being filled with small denomination. And explosive ink cartriges.
Sam felt like his chest had been caved in. He gasp for breath, tasting the carpet shampoo that had been last used. He finally managed to draw a lung full, and it hurt even more now. He knew the blast hadn't been that hard, it hadn't even hit him. He couldn't be in this bad of shape. Could he? When was the last time he hit the gym? Okay, now was not a good time to think about that.
"Give that to me!" Dreadwing snatched one of the bags and opened it up, checking it and finding a bag full of onedollar bills. "Hey these are all..." He reached in to bag and triggered the mini-explosive charge. Blue ink exploded into his face, covering both his dome mask and all the money in that bag.
Sam felt the world slow down for him. His adreinline already heavy spiked up a notch. Dreadwing screamed "You're dead!" as he threw down the bag and tried to wipe his face clean. Sam pushed himself off the floor, grabbing the nearest heavy object he could find. He felt as if he were made of lead, creeping through the air. Dreadwing raised one hand and the gauntlet started reshaping itself, pointed dead center at Georgia. The first blast fired and Sam shouted in rage, drawing his own hand up over his head and bringing it down on the base of the armored neck, right between the wings.
The ink blurring Dreadwings face saved Georgia, she rolled out of the way as the blast took out another wall, but Sam didn't see that, he just saw the blast tear through the air. "No!" He shouted, trying to force more speed, more strength into his arm that seemed to move agonizingly slow. A series of electrical sparks covered the face and the rest of the armor, cleaning away the paint. Sams blow, moving so slowly, connected.
Dreadwing went down. Inside his armor he was blinded by warning lights. "What's happening?" He screamed, falling to his knees, the strength and invunerability of the armor fading away. He rolled to his feet and tried to bring his hand up, Sam smashed it away with his hand, still holding the makeshift bludgeon. The armor seemed to peel off the kids arm, sparking and flashing, parts of it simply vanished while other parts retracted. The gun vanished, the gauntlet vanished, revealing the kids bare hand.
Dreadwing kicked out, trying to get free of the bigger man, but his strength was fading fast. He had thrown Blair across the room with one arm, now he could hardly lift Sam with all his strength. Sam swung again, bringing the weighted hand down on the sloped cone of the helmet. This time something hit back, and Sam felt like his arm was nearly torn from it's socket as he was thrown backwards by the force of the explosion in the palm of his hand.
Sam looked up at Blair, who had managed to get by his side. The two security guards helped each other up. The kid who wanted to be called Dreadwing lay out cold on the ground, his armor almost completely gone. The rest of the bank patrons and staff watched everything. Sam blinked as Georgia came out from behind her neighboring tellers counter. "Sorry." He muttered.
After a few stunned moments, the crowd started clapping. He'd saved the day.
"Samwise the strong." Blair chuckled, clutching his side while he steadied himself on Sams shoulder. Sam winced at the full version of his first name and the referance to the book his parents had gotten it from.
"We're so going to get sued for this." Sam muttered to Blair as the police started to show up. Even without the silent alarm, blowing the wall out of a bank was certain to draw reports.
"I think you've got some witnesses on your side." Blair nodded at the people assymbled. "How'd you take him down like that? He threw me across the room."
Sam stared at his hand that seemed burnt. It tingled badly, like a chemical or radiation burn. Then he looked at what he had bludgeoned the kid with. The Energon paperweight. It was cracked even worse, and the glow seemed to pulsate now, though it was gradually returning to normal. "I don't know." Sam said blankly, feeling the adreniline drain from his body. He needed to sit down very badly right about now.
The man stood up looking across the table at the kid.
"So that's my story." The kid said. "You can get me off, right?"
"I'm so sorry," The lawyer said, and only the naive would think he really meant it. "The witness testimony is pretty damning. I'll see what I can do for you, but I'm afraid that my firm is moving me to a different case."
"No way!" The kid shouted. "You said you were hired by Mister Torrie! You said he'd taken an interest in my case!"
"Oh, he still has an interest in it, and we're leaving you in very capable hands. Maybe you should see Marvin yourself. When you get out again."
"I will!" The kid shouted as the lawyer left the room. "I swear I will! I am Dreadwing! Just you wait, they can't hold me, not with my power!"
Some power, he hadn't been able to resummons the armor since he'd been beaten down with that paperweight. Dreadwing, what a stupid name. Inwardly the lawyer smirked. Then again, he had his own name he'd like to be called. But then, it sounded much better. Starscream had such a better ring to it. Well, if Dreadwing could break his way out of prison, Megatron and Starscream certainly could find a use for him. If not, he wasn't entirely worthless. Now they knew how to deal with this upstart Optimus Prime...
Star The Wanderer - February 4, 2008 04:52 AM (GMT)
Now this was back to your more descriptive writing style. This felt more like something that'd you'd write. I enjoyed this one, the nod to Lord of Rings, I guess it was LOTR given you said Samwise (the only Samwise I know of), was pretty cool. Starscream as the lawyer at the end was also a great cameo. I'm sorry, I can't make coherant sentences right now, I've been up for like nearly 24 hours. Long day. Over-all it is probably my second favorite one thus far.
JW% - February 4, 2008 06:28 AM (GMT)
Glad you liked it. Yes, now that I read back I do notice a difference in styles. Maybe I was just to close to the work to notice it myself without you mentioning it. Thanks for pointing that out, I've learned something new about myself.
Oh, the lawyers name was probably going to be Stanly Scremshaw(or something like that), but I figured just him thinking of his super villain name would be approriate given the writing. That, and I was trying to wrap up, so the ending cameo isn't all that detailed.
For referance, I don't think Dreadwing is a stupid name, but I remember the whole Dreadwing, Darkwind, Dreadwind... whatever... name mix up on the toy catalogue for the Decepticon PowerMasters. This Dreadwing is actually based more on the Movie figure by that name, not the other incarnations.
"I will be known as Samwise THE STRONG!!!... what... no. I'm no king or warrior. I just want to garden."(not a quote but enough to get the point of the scene across) Samwise during his brief time baring The One Ring. He is tempted to glory, and resists. Yes, it's a Lord of the Rings referance. We can guess that Sams parents loved the book, and he's somewhat embarrased about the full version of his first name, so he just goes by Sam(I'm trying to distance him from the Movie Sam, even though it's a common name). It's also holding with my convention of naming various characters after Transformers(even if they're just human in the story).
Samwise, Blair, Georgia, Fargo, and Harold.
Streetwise, Blades, Groove, FirstAid, and Hotshot. The Protectorbots.
Yes, I made Groove female. Just chill dude, it's all good, don't harsh the vibe. I'm sure she's cool with it.
Makes me want to go back and rename the parents of Optimus Prime and Blackarachnia to be Transformers referances. Naw, I like Aunt Ming.
Star The Wanderer - February 5, 2008 04:41 AM (GMT)
|Yes, I made Groove female. Just chill dude, it's all good, don't harsh the vibe. I'm sure she's cool with it.|
Like I'm going to complain about more females being about. I'm pretty darn straight, I like women quite well. Its been several years since I read The Hobbit and the LOTRs books. If memory serves, Sam is only one of two people to ever give up the One Ring willingly. The other was Bilbo, and he needed a good deal of prodding from Gandalf.
JW% - September 20, 2008 05:06 AM (GMT)
Sonnie groaned and rolled over, ignoring the feel of the silk sheets against his nude, toned body. He fumbled around half asleep, wondering why there wasn't a soft feminine shape pressed against him. He found a pillow and hugged it instead. Serves her right, not being here to enjoy his attentions.
His sleep hazed mind almost let go of the thought, but one tiny detail nagged at him. "Her who?" it whispered to the less awake sections of his mind, and he gradually reopened his memories and tried to answer. Eveena? Evite? Aveena? Oh he knew it it was something like that. Wait... how did he know that? He gradually worked at the problem with a sigh.
He'd met her at the dance club to nights ago. Dinner afterwards, went back to his townhouse here on the beach, romantic sunset, one thing led to another... no that was night before last. Last night he'd come home after an exhausting photo shoot and collapsed in bed alone. Egotistical photographer, rather not work with that guy again. But that's getting off topic. He hated waking up alone. And going to bed alone was even worse. What was the point of looking as good as he did if you couldn't share it with someone? Oh yeah, he still had her phone number. Just wish he could remember her name...
That's too much thinking for this early. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep now. He groaned and tossed the pillow away, rolling out of bed and walked across the plush carpeting and stumbled into the bathroom. His thoughts were still somewhat hazy as he turned on the shower, but he heard the television running downstairs.
He closed his eyes and let his mind drift, and for some reason even the stream of water didn't drown out the sound of the television. His brother, who was living in house with him while they were here modeling.
"We take you now live to a police chase that has made it's way across three interstates and is now heading towards a suburb in..." He concentrated a moment and the television remotely shut itself off. That was better.
"... The drivers appear to be armed as several police cars have already suffered damage during the chase. Helicopters are on the scene and while we don't know exactly what..."
Oh yeah, he could hear it in his head even without the television turned on. That would explain why it was annoying him. He tried to wake up a little more so he wasn't monitoring television signals. What he saw from the unsteady camera angle of the news helicopter woke him up with a jolt however.
The beaten blue car drove down the road with a vengeance, the driver intent on the road while the passenger seemed to be looking back at the police who were falling back. They were passing green lawns with trees that made it hard for the helicopter to keep watch over them, not to mention they were heading right into a school zone.
Then a figure in sleek red armor raced up, looking like some kind of crazed jogger, tapped to roof of the car, and leaned down to look in the driver side window. The fact that the car was traveling at easily forty miles an hour, possibly more from the way the houses were blurring past, didn't seem to matter to the runner.
"I'm going to kill Serge!" Sonnie shouted into the shower head, identifying the glinting red armor instantly as being the design his brother preferred.
Meanwhile, Serge was enjoying himself greatly. They hadn't rolled down the window, so he overrode their car radio. "So... full tank of gas, open road, just thought you'd go cruising, huh? I'd ask you to pull over, liscense and registration and all that, but you know there are a nice group of folks in those black and white cars back there can do that instead. Oh, hey, did you know you're entering a school zone?"
The red, black and silver armored figure may have only looked like a blur to a pedestrian, but from a decent distance or traveling along side him in a car as they were, he didn't look to be moving all that fast. It's just that he was doing it practically on foot. Practically because he seemed more to be skating than actually running to look at his motions as he raced in front of the dangerously overspeed car. Thrusters mounted on his shoulders burned brightly and the armored figure pushed himself for more speed.
"Guess class hasn't let out yet. Good for you, since moving at this speed I'd probably kill any kids I'd try to move out of the way, making it much easier just to slam you to a halt. Probably kill you in the process, since I notice that neither of you are wearing your seat belts."
There was a moments pause when the radio returned to it's normal static, and then the voice came back as the helmeted face grinned at them from the window as both driver and passenger snapped their seat belts on. "Very good. I see you can take a hint. Buckle up for safty!"
"Oh yeah, probably better turn here. Lets you off onto a wider road. Of course it dead ends in a few miles, but I'm sure you'll have stopped by then."
"Sideswipe, you're showing off again!" A second voice came over the radio and the passenger jumped, looking out his window as a yellow black and silver figure who frowned across the moving car at his brother.
“Jealous because I’m getting some camera time and you’re not?”
“Hey, I could get all the camera time I want. Good looks like ours need to be moderated, so the public doesn’t develope bad self image issues.”
“You do realize that they can hear us, I tuned their radio into this frequency.”
“That’s it!” The yellow armored figure who seemed to have a set of winged vents on his helmet leapt over the hood of the moving car and tackled his brother. The two went rolling, smashing into a try and causing it to explode into a pile of splinters.
“They’re getting away.” The red figure said with a laugh as he and his brother rolled about wrestling. The yellow armored playboy held down his brother with one hand while raising his other arm. A compartment on his wrist flipped open, and a little silver cylinder was exposed. The beaten blue cars rear wheels exploded from the missiles.
“See, that’s all you needed to do.”
“Oh sure, take all the fun out of it Sunstreaker.” The police in pursuit were already arriving. “I suppose we should head off into the sunset now. The police are going to want to ask us questions, make us file reports… fun while it lasted but all that red tape ain’t my style.”
“Well… maybe we’ll stick around enough for an interview. The news choppers covered us pretty well, but I want to make sure they get my good side.”