Transformers Break: Life on Cybertron

[FrostyFoster 495]

This is a prologue taking place before Part 1 of TF Break
 

The streets of Iacon were filled with scrap as a single vehicle drove through the war torn city, stopping at one of the broken buildings to the right of him. Seekers, grunts in the Decepticon army, flew through the skies in an attempt to find the black and white car, but to no avail. Driving into a grooved crack, the Autobot found himself next to a tiny orange terminal. These were Teletraan Mobiles, giving Autobots access to communications and resources all across the planet.

Once he knew the coast was clear, the Autobot transformed to reveal a sleek humanoid exterior. The gruff machine stuck his finger in one of the Mobile’s slots, revealing a large Yellow Autobot on the screen. “Prowl!” The Autobot responded in shock. “We were worried about you.” Prowl scoffed at this statement. “What? Didn’t trust me to finish the job, Prime? There’s a reason I had to be the messenger bot myself.” 

Prowl was second in command of the Autobots and someone who wouldn’t normally take a menial task such as this. A weapon shipment transport, shot down many cycles ago, was recently discovered to have most of its armaments intact. Sending this information to Sentinel Prime, these powerful weapons could turn the tides in the war. Sentinel smiled through the screen. “Thank you Prowl. You’ve done a-“ The black and white Autobot cut him off. “A great service to the Autobots, I know, I know… Wait…” 

Hearing the sound of a Seeker jet blasting away, two more Decepticons pulled army the rubble hiding Prowl. “Scrap! I-“ suddenly, the transmission went blank on Sentinel Prime’s side. “Prowl?! PROWL?!”

…

Altihex. A beautiful city only tainted by the fact it was where the Decepticon’s headquarters resided. Right in the middle of the militarized area, a gigantic black pyramid stood tall. What seemed like an endless amount of Decepticons  worked within this complex, rising all the way to the top. However, only two took residence upon the highest floor. Sitting atop an extravagant throne, Lord Megatron spun a glass of pure Energon with his fingers, only for a purple Decepticon to burst through the door. “Lord Megatron.” Shockblast uttered as his yellow eye lit up. “One of our seekers just received this information.” 

A projection appeared in front of the Decepticon leader, showing him the downed cargo. A smile curled up his face, rising from his chair. “Send the Combaticons immediately. We cannot let this precious cargo go to waste in the Autobot’s hands!” As he yelled this, Shockblast proceeded to show his disapproval. “Lord Megatron. This could very well be a trap. Perhaps we should take caution.” A silence surrounded the two, only for Megatron to finally turn to his lackey. “Send. The. Combaticons.” He almost whispered while taking large steps toward Shockblast. “You will follow this order or be terminated on the spot. These stupid suggestions may have worked with my pathetic predecessor, but not with me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord Megatron…”

…  

“This the Lieutenant Bulkhead. I’m coming up on the objective point.” 

A green 4x4 rolled up next to the broken transport, noticing the wings had rotted of long ago. Commanding a group of 10, Bulkhead transformed along with them. “There’s gonna be a rust storm soon. We better take what we can quick!” As the group proceeded into the transport, one of the Autobots swore he heard a swivel. “What was that?” He called out. Bulkhead sighed and shrugged. “Don’t worry. Place is falling apart. Probably just a-“

BLAM!

A tank shell slammed into one of the Autobots, killing him instantly. “We got company!” Bulkhead yelled as he returned fire. His heavy machine gun began to heat up from firing, causing the tank to roll back. “Lieutenant, they’ve surrounded the vacinity!” At that moment, Gatlings from a helicopter tore through two more Autobot’s chassis’. “RETREAT! RE-“ Bulkhead’s circuits scrambled once he was punched directly in the face by Onslaught, the squad leader. 

As he fell onto metal scraps, he heard the cries of his fellow brothers be silenced. A sharp jolt from the back of his head woke the Autobot right back up as he felt his processors jumble. “Found something.” The tan and purple Decepticon called out. Onslaught looked at the data pad he was holding. “Two wins today, boys! Let’s grab the weapons and go!” Without a second thought, the leader shot Bulkhead multiple times, leaving his corpse to rot with the transport.

…

Sentinel Prime stood atop the boarding ramp of the Hope. With many high quality fighters spread thin, the volunteers for this mission would be arriving one by one after they were finished with their previous tasks. “Please… please succeed…”

Edited September 26, 2021 by FrostyFoster

[FrostyFoster 495]

This takes place between Part 2 and 3 of TF Break

The torture seemed to never stop.

Constant playbacks of the events filled one Decepticon’s head. Every single Nanocycle had to be managed in a way so that he wouldn’t allow it to take control of him. He sat in the corner of a small room all by himself, tracing the scars no medic could fix. Many times, he contemplated just erasing his data banks. Sure, it would essentially restart him mentally, but the nightmares would be over.

Everytime he wanted to try, he’d stop. The pain he had suffered for cycles made him a better Cybertronian. 

A better fighter.

A better Decepticon.

But he wasn’t always his way. He stood up off of his chair, gripping the top of it tightly. At one point, he was a loyal soldier. He believed that he would die honorably protecting the people he cared about. Only problem was that they never cared about him.

Second in command of the Autobots and they never came for him.

A permanent crack in his visor disrupted the Cybertronian’s vision constantly, but it was the least of his issues as he stared at the chair, tossing it into the metal wall. It cracked in two instantly, dropping to the floor as he looked downward.

“Why, Prowl, why?” He muttered softly.

—

The memories in his head took him back to where his new life began. After he was captured by the Decepticons, Lord Megatron had his fun with the soldier, cutting deep wounds into him as he tortured for no reason. His information on the Hope no longer mattered. Megatron just wanted to see him suffer, and once his plaything bored him, Prowl was tossed aside.

Prowl assumed he would be killed, but instead he was tossed into the deep underbelly of the pyramid, which he later learned was the Decepticon’s main base called The Complex. Left in a dark cell, Prowl only ever heard two things. The chatter of the guards, and screams. Many, many screams.

Thankfully, the gossip of the guards gave him some sort of entertaining. He learned the Hope went MIA shortly after it launched. Prowl assumed it was captured in secret, with only the highest ranked Decepticons knowing of it, but he’d never know for sure. The guards loved to gossip about Sentinel Prime as well. Their biased perspective on his leader amused him, since Sentinel would be destroying them once he took over this complex.

He never did. Not once was their any indication that any Autobot would be coming to save him, but he still believed.

As cycles passed, he believed less and less.

Eventually, Prowl knew he had to break out himself. It took time, but the Autobot fashioned a shiv out of a piece of his thigh. It hurt for sure, but it was the only way for his plan to work. Rations were few and far between. a plate slid into the bottom of his door once in a while, with Prowl deciding to fast.

The small meal sat there, untouched by the soldier for a period of time. Once the next meal came, the guard pulled out what he thought would be an empty plate.

“Better not be dead, scar bot!” The guard slowly opened the door to see Prowl crouched on the floor, his head held downward. “Scrap! Lord Megatron is gonna kill me!” Instead, the Autobot took care of that for the Decepticon leader, jamming the shiv into the guard’s neck. With no time to waste, he grabbed the dead guards pistol, taking a right as he many unmarked cells just like his along the sides of the hallway.

He had no clue where he was going, the entire area feeling like a maze as one hallway turned into two, then three. Sometimes a guard would see him for a bit, only to end up with a blaster bolt to the head. 

Prowl’s aim never got rusty. His chassis on the other hand…

After 8 confirmed kills, he finally found an elevator, only to be greeted by the one Cybertronian he wished he’d never see again. “Hello Prowl.” Lord Megatron exclaimed once the elevator doors slid open. “Come with me.” The Autobot’s weapon raised up, only for Megatron to crush it with his barehands, grabbing Prowl by the arm to pull him in.

“Impressive display out there. You almost had a shot at escaping.” Megatron smirked at the Autobot in the elevator. “I’m joking, of course. Some lowlife in my ranks would’ve filled you with holes by now. Do you know why I’ve kept you functional after so long?”

Prowl didn’t respond.

“Nothing? I didn’t cut your voice-box out all those cycles ago, did I? Ha!” Megatron’s statement continued to be met with silence as the elevator travelled upward. “Well, I’ve come across a little problem. See, I know for a fact that you and I share the same opinion on Sentinel Prime, right? I yearn for more quality soldiers like you. Resourceful ones with experience. The type who can bring me any Autobot’s head to my throne. I-.”

“Is this a job offer?” Prowl interjected. “Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice to being with. The Autobots mean very little to me. Your pathetic faction means nothing to me. Stop playing with me and tell me what exactly you want or just kill me right here!!!”

Lord Megatron smiled at the rage-filled Cybertronian. He knew Prowl thought he had nothing to lose as he yelled, but it still surprised him nonetheless. No Transformer he knew had the drive inside of them to backtalk to the Lord of the Decepticons like that. “So you can talk? Perhaps should let you take out that rage on someone…”

—

“Woooooo! Yeah! Turn him into scrap!”

The cheers from hundreds of Decepticons echoed around a rundown stadium, a giant arena directly in the middle. A shield creating a bubble between the arena and patrons glowed a faint blue hue as they watched various ramps be moved around, two corpses dragged out by the arena’s crew.

“Wow! Talk about a rare finish. Both ‘Cons are dead and gone!” A small Cybertronian with a faded purple paint job was connected to every speaker in the stadium, the word “Squawkbox” printed on his torso. “Hope you didn’t bet too much, because all of those credits will be donated to the funding of Lord Megatron’s 17 statue!” Cheers, along with some groans erupted from the patrons, with many drunk from too many mixed Energon drinks. 

“Let’s be real though, none of you cared about those two! You’re here for the main event!” Sparks flew into the sky as the coliseum doors opened on the right side of the arena. A dark blue and green figure emerged from the shadows to immediate fanfare. 

“The legend is here!” Squawkbox screamed through the speakers. “Once again, the leader of the Combaticons has decided to show his strength to his brethren. Give it up for Onslaught!” Multiple large weapons were welded onto the Combaticon, clearly from his Autobot victims. He raised his fists in the air to even more fanfare. “Oh yeah!” His mouth plate moving up and down as he uttered this.

“Of course, he’s got some good competition! His opponent’s last 11 fights have ended in 20 kilocycles. You all know him as the lost soldier. Let’s hear it for Prowl!” From the other side of the arena came out a smaller framed Cybertronian compared to Onslaught, only carrying a sword and assault rifle in each hand.

Prowl could care less that the cheering crowd loved him. He’d spent a long time being entertainment to them, but with every match, he got a new scar for them to gawk at. He stood across from the titan, knowing him well. While he never fought the group as an Autobot, their reputation proceeded them, with the other four Combaticons having a front row seat to the action.

“Blow him to pieces, boss!” Brawl proclaimed as he tossed an Energon jug at the arena, the shield causing it to bounce back. “Please don’t litter, Brawl!” Blast Off scowled while the jug rolled to his feet. “Recycling helps the Decepticon cause!” 

“So I finally get to fight you, Prowl. I remember when you actually meant something in the war.” While Onslaught was trying to rile him up, the Combaticon did respect Prowl’s service, something few Decepticons would ever do. “I’m sorry it has to end here. You still have so much potential.”

Prowl’s visor shortened as if he was squinting at the taller opponent. “…You will die here.” He stated, the bell ringing at just the perfect time. Onslaught immediately switched to his alt mode, an armored bulky vehicle with a turret on top. Not wasting any time, the minimum blared as energy bullets went toward Prowl. Thankfully, he had the advantage in speed. As he transformed into a speedy car, he went off of one of the nearby ramps set up to dodge the attack, but he knew he couldn’t keep going around him forever. Once the time was right, he launched himself over Onslaught, admittedly taking a few blasts in the process as he transformed. 

The crowd barely even saw the slash slide through the turret, but once Prowl landed on his feet, sword in hand, it was clear to see what happened. Onslaught transformed as the turret slid off of his back. “You’re one of those Metallikato bots, aren’t you?” The Combaticon called out. Prowl didn’t respond with his words or his rifle, which he tossed aside in favor of the sword.

“Not sure where you learned that, but you’d be a useful ally with those skills. Too bad I can’t-“

He never saw it coming. The blade first slashed into his right forearm, then both thighs, only to be finished off with a jab directly into his Decepticon logo.

Liquid seeped out the sides of his mouthplate as his arm and legs broke off. Whatever was left of his body fell to the ground next to the limbs, Prowl’s blade coated in the liquid. There was no scream, no acknowledgment of defeat, just death. The crowd made up for the lack of fanfare, hollering as Prowl stood tall.

The Combaticons on the other hand had their jaws drop as they wanted their leader be killed so quickly, with the exception of Swindle, who was currently being handed credits from multiple patrons.

“Did you seriously bet against our boss?” Vortex chastised.

“What? Swordsbot was the underdog! Turned out to be a good payday.”

BOOM!

The shield covering the arena shut down from a pink blast hitting it, a cloaked figure jumping down into the arena. Prowl knew immediately who it was, but murmurs still came from the crowd, only to be silenced as the figure removed his cowl.

Every single Cybertronian knelt at the sight on Lord Megatron standing in the arena. All except for Prowl. No one spoke a peep as they watched their Lord walk toward the winner. It was then that Prowl turned back to the carcass, chopping Onslaught’s head off with a clean slice. Grasping the head, Prowl tossed it at Megatron’s feet. 

“Hmmmmm. I told you I wanted Autobot heads brought to my feet all those cycles ago, not one of my greatest soldiers.” Megatron kicked the head away. “However, considering the fact that you managed to kill him in kilocycles, his abilities may have been overhyped. Time for you to leave this dump. A position just opened.”

—

Prowl stared back at the broken chair once his memories ended. Many cycles passed between his capture and his promotion, around 300 Earth years in fact. The mirror in his room showed him the new gold and black paint job he adorned, along with a row of his own Autobot heads to keep as trophies…

Walking out of the room, he was met by his lackeys. While they had strengths, their personalities didn’t mesh well with the new Combaticon leader.

Swindle, the tan and purple hatchback, was the sleaze-ball.

Vortex, the gray helicopter, was shortsighted.

Blast Off, the black and brown rocket ship, was sanctimonious.

And Brawl, the dark green tank, was just… stupid.

“Lord Megatron just gave us another op, boss.” Swindle stated. “We’re gonna have to leave soon.” Prowl’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t even ask about the mission, instead opting to motion the four to walk with him. For Prowl, he already proved himself as a quality fighter, but not yet as a leader. Nevertheless, his motion for the group to go to their ship.

The missions themselves didn’t matter, only the revenge he’d get from doing them.

Edited September 26, 2021 by FrostyFoster

[FrostyFoster 495]

This takes place between Part 1 and 2 of TF Break

You know what it feels like to be worshipped?

Of course you don’t. Cybertronians like me are like… one in a million or something. Sure, technically EVERY Cybertronian is special compared to most species, but the ones like me? We’re different.

We’re legends.

“BLITZY!!! Come on, show us again!” 

Ten beautiful Cybertronian female types, ordained with the best jewelry credits could buy, laid on cushy couches next to the honored owner of the penthouse. The extravagant flat was one of many inside one of the tallest skyscrapers on the entire planet.

Thethnia. Such a beautiful place. So many beautiful women, tasty drinks, and best of all, no war. Thank Primus this place hasn’t been touched yet. I don’t care about Lord Megapsycho or that Autocon Prime as long as they stay away from me.

“Ok ladies, one more time.” The purple and gray Cybertronian they seemed to be so infatuated with changed into a tank before their optics.

I know. I know. Why do I need to transform into a war machine when I’m not even apart of the war?

It’s an actual question. Why did I pick a tank?

A few of the ladies clapped, but that wasn’t why they were here. The tank then changed not back into a robot, but into a jet. The women cheered with joy, perhaps a little too much considering how much they’ve drank this night. The cheers fueled the jet’s ego, changing back into his robot form.

I’m Blitzwing. I’m what they call a triple changer. Pretty much the coolest Cybertronian on the planet, to be perfectly honest. Never even met someone like me, though I know they’re out there. Hopefully I don’t meet them though.

Rather not have any competition.

“Blitzy, you are soooo amazing.” A blue colored bot chatted with the triple changer, leaning to whisper in his ear. “You know what I think? We should ditch the others and have some fun.” Curious about the offer, Blitzwing didn’t wish to deny the beautiful woman, but leaving the others behind?

“I don’t know…” He responded, only for the girl to grab his arm, pulling him away. “Pretty please?” Hearing the sad sighs from the others, he had to make a decision. “Don’t worry ladies, I’ll be back soon.” The blue bot led Blitzwing into one of the many rooms he had in his penthouse.

Yes, she’s kinda pushy, but I can’t deny that sleek exterior…

The door slid closed behind them as the blue bot tossed the triple changer on a bed, only to smack the door’s control panel, locking them in. “Geez, let’s cut to the chase, Blitzwing. Why are you REALLY not apart of the war?”

She sobered up quickly.

“Ok, this is going way too fast for me. Who are you?” Blitzwing got off the bed, only for the blue bot to push him back on it. “Stay down. I’d rather not have your little harem find a corpse.” The sleek bot uttered while pulling up a datapad. “I’m agent Mirage with the Autobots. The only reason I’m telling you this is because you’re very useful to us.”

She’s lying.

This was-wait, who said that?-anyways, this was not the way I imagined my night would end, but I’ve had weirder things happen in drunken stupors.

“Useful? Lady, you’re gonna have to be more specific then that. What, do you want to dissect my body? Find out what makes me tick so that you can create an army of triple changers. Gotta admit that sounds more like a Mega… Megastorm thing. It’s Megastorm, right? Doesn’t seem very Primey to do that.” Blitzwing continued to prattle on and on, only for Mirage to jam a pistol into his neck.

“Countless Cybertronians die in this war, scraphead! You have the power to change that and you just sit up here with the rich folk. It’s not the fame. It’s the FEAR.” She smirked when she said this, knowing Blitzwing agreed.

She’s good, isn’t she?

There it is again. She didn’t say that. What is going on with my memory bank? 

“I am fearful, considering the fact you got a gun shoved into me. Don’t you know weapons aren’t allowed in Thethnia?” Blitzwing stared at the firearm through his visor, watching as she holstered it. “Explain your alt modes, Mr. Pacifist. A tank and a fighter jet? You could do some serious damage.”

‘Cause blowing up stuff is fun.

Who doesn’t want to fly?

WHO IS SAYING THAT?

“Look Mirage. Now is not the time for… whatever this is. Can you please just leave?” Desperately wanting to be alone, the blue bot complied. “This is only the beginning, ‘Blitzy’. We’ll be in touch.” The sleek Autobot was then replaced with… nothing.

What? How did she do that? One nanocycle she was there, the next she was gone. Talk about a weirdo though. I don’t think threatening my life after pretending to love me was a very good idea.

Heh, you can say that again!

Also, none of these women love you. They want your money.

Blitzwing grasped his head, jumping off the bed as if he was in pain. However, no pain erupted from any of his circuits. “Who are you?! Get out of my head!” Hearing knocks outside of the room, Blitzwing tried to open the door, but to no avail.

Stop pretended like you’re the one in complete control. We can all share.

Yeah, sharing is caring!

Please stop. I’m Blitzwing. I’m the ONLY Blitzwing.

WE’RE Blitzwing. It’s time for you to share.

Stop.

No.

STOP! Get out of my head!

No.

Why is this happening to me?!

No screams came from the Cybertronian as he held his head, his memory banks racing with emotion from three sources. Blitzwing learned he wasn’t just a triple changer that day. He also had a triple persona. With every positive, there’s a negative on the opposite side.

—

“What did you learn?”

Sentinel Prime sat by his office desk as he talked with Mirage, her optics glancing around room as she noticed various medals honoring the Prime. “Not much, but it was clear his other personalities were messing with him.” 

“Did they talk with you?”

“No, he seems to still be in the early stages of TC rot. I bet his head is a mess right now.”

Sentinel sighed, a defeating look on his face appearing. “I’ve dealt with Triple Changers before. They’re treated like legends, but something in their memory banks just… crack. Continue the mission with him. He’s going to help all the help he can get.”

“Don’t worry, sir. He may be a shallow womanizer, but I was getting kinda used to the luxury. I’ll find a cure for him somehow.”

Edited October 7, 2021 by FrostyFoster