Verno
21st May 2012, 03:53 PM
Well, with the TransWarp saga all but complete in a literary sense, it was time to move onto the next part of the VernoVerse.
Here's something I threw together as an opening.
Enjoy!
1.
The young Predacon struggled to find his footing as he continued his battle with four Maximal assailants. His body was repeatedly battered with punches, but he grabbed one by the arm, pulling him down to the ground, then leaped onto another, tackling him, before being dragged off by the two still on their feet. Shoving one off, the Predacon lifted the other and threw him into the alley wall.
Suddenly a metal pipe met the back of the Predacons head, and he crashed back down to the ground. Another couple of solid blows rendered him unmoving.
“Enough”, said a voice. From the shadows stepped a cloaked figure. The Maximals looked up. There, in the hand of the veiled stranger was a sword, glinting in the light. The Maximals dropped the piping and quickly departed, fleeing down the open end of the alleyway.
“Face me cowards!” the Predacon yelled to the retreating Maximals as he tried to lift his battered body from the ground, again. “You would do well to leave them be”, said the cloaked stranger, who knelt down beside the Predacon. “You fight bravely, but some battles can’t be won”.
The stranger placed a hand under the Predacon’s shoulder and attempted to help him up. “Come, your injuries require attention”. “Leave me…”, said the injured ‘bot, attempting to shove off the stranger’s grip, “or you… you…” The Predacon’s body failed and he collapsed, going into stasis.
2.
The young Predacon came back online in an unfamiliar location. As his blurred optics took in the dingy environment, the cloaked figure descended a flight of stairs into the room. “You have the Spark of a Prime, but bravery is often confused with stupidity”.
“Where am I?” asked the Predacon, ignoring the strangers words while getting unsteadily to his feet. “Safe”, replied the figure, standing at the bottom of the stairs. “The way out?” asked the Predacon, rudely. The cloaked figure stepped aside from the bottom of the stairs, allowing passage past him. The Predacon made for the stairs.
“No word of thanks for your rescuer?” asked the cloaked figure. “I didn’t need rescuing”, said the Predacon, ascending the stairs. “It was your intention to meet death last night?” asked the stranger. “If so, I am sorry for robbing you of such an indignity”. The young ‘bot stopped on the stairs, the comment having gotten easily under his plating.
“What’s your name, Predacon?” The Predacon turned and looked down on the stranger, unmoved at the bottom of the stairs. “Dinobot”, was the reply. The figure turned and walked to the opposite end of the room.
“The Dinobots were an insubordinate force of nature. But when focused on an objective, they had the power to change history. Do you think yourself worthy of such a name?” The figure stopped in front of some large shelving adorned with weaponry of all shapes and sizes. “A Predacon using the name Dinobot – Grimlock would disapprove, then tear you limb from limb.”
“Who are you?” asked Dinobot, rooted to the stairs. “I am you”, said the figure, studying some of the mounted weaponry. “Or should I say that I am what you could become”. “And what is that?” queried Dinobot, not moving from the stairs. “An empty shell”, said the figure, who turned to face Dinobot, with a sword in each hand. He walked to the centre of the room.
“There is a flame within you, Dinobot - ignited by the constant injustice you are made to endure, and as a result you lash out against a world that hates you simply out of habit.” He plunged the tips of the swords into the floor, where they remained. Then in one fluid motion, removed his cloak, to reveal a sleek robot figure, its alternate form clearly of some animalistic inspiration.
“As a race, we have a very long memory, yet so soon the lessons of the past are forgotten. In 300 years, this planet has bred a society more divided than that preceding the War. Young Predacons, such as yourself, are made to suffer for crimes committed before their creation. You are a product of this system - this lingering inequality.” Having thrown his cloak to the edge of the room, he retrieved one of the swords from the floor.
“But soon the flame begins to burn its host, licking your very Spark and inciting an ever increasing rage; a hatred encompassing everything and everyone, leading to self-destruction as a means to escape.” The figure stepped back from the remaining sword, as if inviting Dinobot back down the stairs.
“I have felt these flames, the blind rage that overwhelms your circuitry, wishing to tear the world apart for that one moment of peace. It stemmed from a great loss, the ensuing vengeance I craved burned hotter than the Pit itself.” The figure gestured for Dinobot to descend and take the other sword.
“But the resolution I sought was stolen from me – the murderer met with death, but not by my hand. It was over, and I should have been at peace, but my vow of revenge was unfulfilled. The fire soon caught hold, hollowing my being, leaving only the husk of who I once was, and now a mirror of your future.” The figure turned his back to Dinobot one again.
Dinobot stepped to the bottom of the stairs. “What are you, some kind of war hero?” he asked. “Hero is a dangerous word – so often confused with martyr” replied the figure. “But who are you with?” Dinobot asked, seeking clarification.
“I am made of Maximal parts, but then so are you, yet neither of us is Maximal. And when I first joined the war, I fought alongside the Predacons, but I am not counted within their fold. The old names are gone, and the new ones hold no place for me. I am simply a Cybertronian, a son of Primus – you may call me Shadow.”
Dinobot walked up to the sword protruding from the floor, but did not pull it out. “And what do you want?” asked Dinobot, looking at the sword.
“What I want is irrelevant until you decide what you want. If you wish for death, leave the blade before you where it is and I will deliver to you the demise I robbed you of last night.” Dinobot continued to study the sword.
“However, if you think you have more to offer the universe, the choice is clear.”
With no other warning, the figure turned and sprinted at Dinobot, raised his sword and brought it down.
Kkkssshhhhhhhhh…
The sword met its partner, Dinobot having raised it in defence with both hands, though his body was turned away, expecting the mortal blow that never came. He slowly turned his head to look into the optics of the figure. Shadow’s face had the slightest smile etched across it.
“I wish to train you.”
Here's something I threw together as an opening.
Enjoy!
1.
The young Predacon struggled to find his footing as he continued his battle with four Maximal assailants. His body was repeatedly battered with punches, but he grabbed one by the arm, pulling him down to the ground, then leaped onto another, tackling him, before being dragged off by the two still on their feet. Shoving one off, the Predacon lifted the other and threw him into the alley wall.
Suddenly a metal pipe met the back of the Predacons head, and he crashed back down to the ground. Another couple of solid blows rendered him unmoving.
“Enough”, said a voice. From the shadows stepped a cloaked figure. The Maximals looked up. There, in the hand of the veiled stranger was a sword, glinting in the light. The Maximals dropped the piping and quickly departed, fleeing down the open end of the alleyway.
“Face me cowards!” the Predacon yelled to the retreating Maximals as he tried to lift his battered body from the ground, again. “You would do well to leave them be”, said the cloaked stranger, who knelt down beside the Predacon. “You fight bravely, but some battles can’t be won”.
The stranger placed a hand under the Predacon’s shoulder and attempted to help him up. “Come, your injuries require attention”. “Leave me…”, said the injured ‘bot, attempting to shove off the stranger’s grip, “or you… you…” The Predacon’s body failed and he collapsed, going into stasis.
2.
The young Predacon came back online in an unfamiliar location. As his blurred optics took in the dingy environment, the cloaked figure descended a flight of stairs into the room. “You have the Spark of a Prime, but bravery is often confused with stupidity”.
“Where am I?” asked the Predacon, ignoring the strangers words while getting unsteadily to his feet. “Safe”, replied the figure, standing at the bottom of the stairs. “The way out?” asked the Predacon, rudely. The cloaked figure stepped aside from the bottom of the stairs, allowing passage past him. The Predacon made for the stairs.
“No word of thanks for your rescuer?” asked the cloaked figure. “I didn’t need rescuing”, said the Predacon, ascending the stairs. “It was your intention to meet death last night?” asked the stranger. “If so, I am sorry for robbing you of such an indignity”. The young ‘bot stopped on the stairs, the comment having gotten easily under his plating.
“What’s your name, Predacon?” The Predacon turned and looked down on the stranger, unmoved at the bottom of the stairs. “Dinobot”, was the reply. The figure turned and walked to the opposite end of the room.
“The Dinobots were an insubordinate force of nature. But when focused on an objective, they had the power to change history. Do you think yourself worthy of such a name?” The figure stopped in front of some large shelving adorned with weaponry of all shapes and sizes. “A Predacon using the name Dinobot – Grimlock would disapprove, then tear you limb from limb.”
“Who are you?” asked Dinobot, rooted to the stairs. “I am you”, said the figure, studying some of the mounted weaponry. “Or should I say that I am what you could become”. “And what is that?” queried Dinobot, not moving from the stairs. “An empty shell”, said the figure, who turned to face Dinobot, with a sword in each hand. He walked to the centre of the room.
“There is a flame within you, Dinobot - ignited by the constant injustice you are made to endure, and as a result you lash out against a world that hates you simply out of habit.” He plunged the tips of the swords into the floor, where they remained. Then in one fluid motion, removed his cloak, to reveal a sleek robot figure, its alternate form clearly of some animalistic inspiration.
“As a race, we have a very long memory, yet so soon the lessons of the past are forgotten. In 300 years, this planet has bred a society more divided than that preceding the War. Young Predacons, such as yourself, are made to suffer for crimes committed before their creation. You are a product of this system - this lingering inequality.” Having thrown his cloak to the edge of the room, he retrieved one of the swords from the floor.
“But soon the flame begins to burn its host, licking your very Spark and inciting an ever increasing rage; a hatred encompassing everything and everyone, leading to self-destruction as a means to escape.” The figure stepped back from the remaining sword, as if inviting Dinobot back down the stairs.
“I have felt these flames, the blind rage that overwhelms your circuitry, wishing to tear the world apart for that one moment of peace. It stemmed from a great loss, the ensuing vengeance I craved burned hotter than the Pit itself.” The figure gestured for Dinobot to descend and take the other sword.
“But the resolution I sought was stolen from me – the murderer met with death, but not by my hand. It was over, and I should have been at peace, but my vow of revenge was unfulfilled. The fire soon caught hold, hollowing my being, leaving only the husk of who I once was, and now a mirror of your future.” The figure turned his back to Dinobot one again.
Dinobot stepped to the bottom of the stairs. “What are you, some kind of war hero?” he asked. “Hero is a dangerous word – so often confused with martyr” replied the figure. “But who are you with?” Dinobot asked, seeking clarification.
“I am made of Maximal parts, but then so are you, yet neither of us is Maximal. And when I first joined the war, I fought alongside the Predacons, but I am not counted within their fold. The old names are gone, and the new ones hold no place for me. I am simply a Cybertronian, a son of Primus – you may call me Shadow.”
Dinobot walked up to the sword protruding from the floor, but did not pull it out. “And what do you want?” asked Dinobot, looking at the sword.
“What I want is irrelevant until you decide what you want. If you wish for death, leave the blade before you where it is and I will deliver to you the demise I robbed you of last night.” Dinobot continued to study the sword.
“However, if you think you have more to offer the universe, the choice is clear.”
With no other warning, the figure turned and sprinted at Dinobot, raised his sword and brought it down.
Kkkssshhhhhhhhh…
The sword met its partner, Dinobot having raised it in defence with both hands, though his body was turned away, expecting the mortal blow that never came. He slowly turned his head to look into the optics of the figure. Shadow’s face had the slightest smile etched across it.
“I wish to train you.”