If this is in the wrong place, will a mod please move it to where it belongs.
Anyway, this is a transfomers flash fiction story I wrote during a bout of insomnia. It's got no place to go, so I thought I'd just share it with those who may enjoy it. Hopefully its worth the time to read. Cheers.
Alpha and Omega
by
John W.
(Jowo91@hotmail.com)
I stomped my heel down onto the head of the Autobot and felt his optics shatter, his memory core tear apart into scrap. It’s what I do. I’m a Decepticon. All those who don’t bow before us end up beneath our heels. Each carcass was like another step lifting us up towards our final goal, conquest.
A part of me knew I should feel for this Autobot, but I didn’t. It didn’t matter that I just destroyed countless mega-cycles of memories, of life, in that instant. I smeared all that he was out onto the steel on a trail of evaporating energon, and I didn’t care. There was a time when I did, but not anymore. This was nothing to me now.
I heard Megatron shouting orders. “Decepticons move in for the kill.” The Autobot’s lines were bending. All we had to do was press harder, and they would break. There was no hope to change things. They were outnumbered, and most definitely outgunned. By my battle computer’s calculations, I knew they wouldn’t make it through the cycle. My unit was Megatron’s alpha, the first unit of our kind, his best. When we stood together, we left destruction in our wake while we carved a path to victory.
Laser light gleamed off the shimmering surfaces of the Cybertronian landscape as my unit pressed forward into the heart of the Autobot fortress, Stronghold Absolon. Above, Seeker squadrons bombard the last troops left along its outer walls into scrap. Normally, even for us, attacking a fortress city was suicide without backup, Scorpinok sized backup, but we didn’t need him today.
We had Ravage. He infiltrated the fortress, sabotaged its transformation cog, and scrambled their commutations network, leaving the fortress unable to transform and the Autobots unable to coordinate a defense. A city sized problem in a cyber-cat sized package.
By the time we leave this place, there’ll be one less Autobot fortress to deal with and another victory notch on the barrel of my laser pistol.
As Megatron blasted open the main gates, a squad of Autobots tried to retreat, but we cut them down as soon as they turned chassis to run. In less than an astrosecond, they were nothing but piles of smoldering slag. We cut our way through the last of the resistance, and into the city’s power core chamber. As I stepped over the sparking chassis of a fallen Autobot, he grabbed my leg in a futile attempt at... something meaningful. What it was, I didn’t know, and I didn’t care.
I pointed my laser pistol at the Autobot’s head. My mathematics algorithms lagged for a moment as I tallied up the number of notches on the barrel. Most of the notches meant nothing; the memories were all piled up into a blur in my memory circuits, unaccessed for mega-cycles, except one, the first one, the alpha. It was my first victory as a Decepticon, my unit’s first victory. It was against a friend. He never suspected, and he never saw it coming.
The Autobot looked up at me with defiant eyes and said, “Last of the best,” and spat a gob of lubricant at me. I pulled the trigger, and Autobot’s head evaporate. All that he was, gone.
We set the energon charges in the power core and evacuated. Two micro-quads away from the fortress, we watched as Stronhold Absolon turned into a geyser of energon flame and slowly melted into the largest pile of slag this side of Crystal City.
Megatron gave the orders to fallback, but my unit stayed behind alone to watch the fortress burn. We knew there was one more fight coming our way. It was a fight that went beyond this war, beyond the mega-cycles of passing time. It was personal. It would always be that way when friends turned into enemies, when one steps over the line to the other side and former friends stand as foes. Some call it betrayal. Some call it seeing the light. Others call it making a choice given the available data. It was simple mathematics 2+2=4. It’ll always be that way. You can’t changed the laws of mathematics. They’re universal and always right.
My former friend doesn’t believe I… we… made a choice. He believes Megatron coerced us. That our calculations were wrong, our data faulty, but what he failed to comprehend, and continues to, is that our calculations weren’t wrong. They never were. We were just missing a few bits of datum to complete them. We were always pondering the equation X+Y=4. We were always asking the question, and Megatron came and gave us the solution. He gave us X and Y, and the answer that followed was obvious. It couldn’t be anything other than what it was.
There was a rumble in the sky, but it wasn’t thunder. We all turned our optics up and saw the small flame in the distant sky burning towards us. We knew what was coming, and we accepted it. It was the beginning. It’ll be the end. It’s as endless as the infinite. It’s our eternal fight, and today, we fight it again.
Sometimes a Decepticon will ask us why we bother to fight our former friend when nothing ever gets resolved. We usually tell them that we’ve become tired of running and decided to face up to our choices, but truthfully, for a part of me, it’s nice to see my former friend again, even if it is to fight.
The flame from the rocket turned into a blazing inferno as it shot overhead, and the ground quaked when he landed.
I heard my former friend’s voice as he transformed. There was no emotion left in it as Omega Supreme rose to his full height and said, “Constructicons, identified. Combat, imminent. Hatred, absolute.”
I said the only thing that I could. It was the only thing we said to one another anymore. There was nothing left to say as friends. We were enemies now, facing each other, and it was time we stood eye-to-eye, face-to-face. I said, “Constructicons unite…”
