Here are two pieces of fan fiction that I had published in a local comic book shop's fanzine. The first is called Never End, and the second is called Personal Evil. Enjoy!
Never Ends:
Black Shadow screamed through Cybertron’s atmosphere dodging the falling chunks of Luna 2 as it plummeted toward Cybertron’s surface. He’d been forced to mute his audio receptors in order to hear his internal radio. The Aerialbots had scrambled up to meet him, and he now engaged them in a high-speed game of hide and seek. As one roared up behind him, Black Shadow transformed and rolled to face up. The sudden drag and loss of aerodynamic characteristics put him directly below his pursuer for a split second, but it was enough to unload the missile racks that he’d had installed in his chest. The Aerialbot detonated in a spectacular shower of energon and shrapnel. Black Shadow transformed again even as the scrap of the Aerialbot rained down upon him. He dove towards Cybertron’s surface, shattering the sound barrier and pulling the remaining four Aerialbots with him.
Once he reached the city level he began weaving between buildings and roads. He felt the explosion of another Aerialbot as it slammed into the side of a building. Riding the wave of momentum he transformed again, hovered and greeted the third Aerialbot with his detonation chain. It smashed through the Aerialbot’s nosecone before wedging itself and exploding deep within the Autobot’s chest. As this happened Black Shadow transformed back into jet mode and rocketed further into the core of Iacon.
As Luna 2 descended, more of its mass continued to rain down onto Iacon. A large chunk of land smashed through the fourth Aerialbot, sending a cascade of broken Autobot and moon into the streets below. A building toppled in Black Shadow’s flight path, forcing him to dive under, and the pursuing Aerialbot to climb sharply to avoid it. Black Shadow looped and entered a climb with the Aerialbot. Both bots began to scissor back and forth as they climbed, dodging each other and the falling debris. The Aerialbot rocketed ahead toward a falling piece of moon, transformed into robot mode, landed on the piece of moon, and jumped off, using the acceleration of the moon to speed his fall. He managed to grab Black Shadow around the nosecone and they began to freefall headfirst toward Cybertron’s surface.
Black Shadow fought to transform within the hold of the Aerialbot, and succeeded in doing so, but ended up with the Aerialbot’s chest in his back as the Aerialbot shifted his grip. Black Shadow fired the thrusters on his back and gained enough space to whirl around and face his attacker. The Aerialbot’s face lit up in surprise before it received a rack of missiles firing into it. Black Shadow attempted to right himself but slammed into the top of a building and plummeted through the roof.
He groaned, shook his head, and climbed out of the hole he had made. For his effort he was greeted with falling shrapnel that pierced his brain casing and sent his broken, sparking body falling back into the building before even more debris smashed into it causing the building to implode around him.
“Why Deszaras? To what end are you doing this?” Star Saber asked hiding behind a pillar deep in the core of Cybertron. Even down here he could hear the shuddering impacts as fragments of Luna 2 impacted the surface.
“To what end?” Deszaras cackled, “To
the end. To the end of the Decepticons as we know it.”
His voice echoed throughout the chamber. Star Saber strained to see, trying to locate his opponent through the cracks forming on his optics. He could hear Deszaras amongst the stacks of this ancient Cybertronian library and echoing in the crevasses of the dome-shaped roof. It seemed as though Deszaras was everywhere at once, and yet nowhere at all.
Suddenly Deszaras emerged directly in front of him, standing out in the open, wielding his scimitar beckoning Star Saber on. “The last of the Decepticons are dead. Black Shadow has done his part, and he will be remembered.”
“By who?”
“You’ll never live to find out.” Deszaras transformed suddenly, surging toward Star Saber, maw wide open. Just then Luna 2 struck Cybertron, and the room began to collapse. Star Saber tried to rocket toward the entrance he’d come through, however Deszaras was upon him, ripping through the armor plating on Star Saber’s back with his teeth and driving his muzzle into rip out Star Saber’s spark core. He wrenched it free with a series of metallic crunches, tossed it across the room, and cackled, sending Star Saber’s energon spilling down his chin, even as the room collapsed around him.
“Decepticons forever!” he cried as the building crushed him.
5000 years later
A lone Transformer continued cataloging the ancient stacks he had found while exploring the underground ruins of Iacon. Technically no one was allowed down here, but it wasn’t as if the planetary rules were being strictly enforced with everyone being so busy with the galactic expansion going on. And so he continued his cataloguing unabated, taking the choice bits of history for himself, and leaving the rest for the next interested bot to find.
He pulled a datatrack from its place. This one held a symbol he had never seen before. It was a raised purple emblem, pointed at the bottom and crowned at the top with slanted triangles for eyes, and larger triangles for cheeks. He opened it. It screen flickered for a second before resolving itself into text.
To the one who finds this datatrack:
We have cleared the path for you.
The mightiest Cybertronians are dead.
The first generations can never be replaced.
The work of a Decepticon Resurgence can now begin.
See for yourself the justice of our cause.
The seeds of a new rebellion are beneath your feet.
Dig for them. Let them bear fruit.
The instruments you need are found in the heavens above.
Reach out for them. Turn them to their task.
Take the badge on the cover and never serve anyone again.
The lone Transformer gingerly removed the badge from the datatrack, and affixed it to the center of his chest. Data instantly began uploading into his memory banks. This he was aware of. He was not aware of the slight modification made to his personality components. After the data upload completed he sat on a fallen pillar for a long while.
Then he transformed into his front loader mode.
And began to dig.
Personal Evil:
“Do you know what is fascinating about how Cybertronians pain receptors work?” a distant voice asked.
Senator Morasmus slowly regained his bearings, but he could not feel his body. As his eyes scanned the room, roving freely because they had been removed from his head, he saw his body. Or at least the pile of scrap that had been his body. It was littered with dents, drill holes, acid damage, and torch marks.
“You didn’t answer my question,” the voice cut in again. He tried desperately pinpoint the voice, but was unable to. He tried to speak, and was surprised to find that his brain module and voice box hadn’t been completely disconnected.
“Why,” he murmered, “Why do this? There’s no reason to act out against anyone this way. Cybertronian society has been free of want since After Moonfall 2025.”
“So what?”, the voice asked, this time he was sure it was a female voice, and one he should have been familiar with.
“S-s-so,” speech was becoming more difficult, “because there is no want, or inequality, then evil acts have no place. Their root cause has been eliminated.” His voice box sputtered and let out a horrific screech.
“Ha,” the voice spat, and its owner grabbed his optical receptors and peered into them. The face he saw was lean, and possessed of a terrible vitality. The eyes were a deep malevolent purple. The helm was crowned with the V-fin of the medical class, but it too was now that dreadful purple, instead of the comforting green the senate had selected a millennia ago.
“You’re naïve to think evil, as you call it, is born from external factors. You think it can be constrained, or taught against, but I’ll tell you the truth: Evil comes from our sparks. Each individual has the capacity for evil.”
She dropped his eyes to ground, and crushed one of them with the spark-wrenching sound of shattering glass and fraying wire. “Since all of your security is dead, because I killed them myself, and the police are busy fighting a riot elsewhere in the city, I’ll show you what is unique about Cybertronian pain receptors. She picked up his remaining eye and showed him an external hard drive and a bundle of cords running from his nervous system. There was another bundle of cords running from the hard drive to his brain module.
“You can edit a Cybertronians feeling of pain. Just like an audio producer can record sounds and edit them together to make a song, I can record your pain, administered over the course of a day and edit it down to a single second of excruciating neurological trauma. In fact the data has just finished compiling. You won’t survive, the sheer amount of trauma I inflicted upon your body will burn out your brain module. Oh don’t worry you will feel that part too.”
“Who-who are you?” he managed before his voice dissolved into static.
“I was a doctor, you actually came to see me for burrs in your crankshaft a couple of times. I went by Anaesthetic then, and you complimented me on my familiarity with your systems. These days, I go by Killjoy.”
She flipped a switch.
The Senators world exploded.
