MATURE: - Ongoing When All The World Was Young

[Ultra Pidgeot]

A bit of Transformers fanfiction for you!

PROLOGUE​

Before the war, everything had this sort of...golden look to it. Maybe it's the old memory servos malfunctioning. Maybe everything was purer. Whatever the case, it was warm, golden. Dust moats wafted lazily through shafts of light. Older 'Bots strolled down streets, discussing politics, science, whatever interested them. There were, as always, the rumblings in Kaon. Most of us just laughed them off. Angry gladiators rose up in protest of Sentinel every couple of cycles. They were no more of a threat than your grandmother. All talk, no game. But people found something...different in this one. He was so young and energetic and likeable, managing even to win a few supporters in Iacon.

-x-​

Polyhex was, as usual, boring. Dion rolled down the nigh empty streets, gliding through curves in the road, barely noticing his surroundings. He narrowly missed crashing into an older passerby, who gesticulated angrily at him as he zipped down the street. Dion chortled to himself.

Daft old-timer. Jealous of my youth, I imagine.

He continued to blast through intersections, ignoring signs and lights. A column of dust rose slowly into the sky in his wake. After a few more intense turns and near-misses, he found himself at his place of work. He stopped outside and observed a gigantic crowd standing outside. A holographic note hovered in front of the door. Dion transformed and strode over to his coworkers.

"Whatsa matter, guys?"

There was no response. He shoved through the crowd and read the note. Upon completion, he staggered back. His friend Ariel approached him.

"You think it could be true?"

Dion backed away from the note as if were some sort of evil being.

"I don't know, but let's hope to Primus it isn't."

Dion, Ariel, and the rest of the communications officers transformed and set a course for Iacon, per their instructions.







Eh. Just a prologue. It'll catch up in a bit.

 

[Ultra Pidgeot]

CHAPTAR 1

Chapter 1​

Several thousand Cybertronians were crammed into the famous Iacon Speedway, stomping their feet against the stands, waving pennants, and cheering as loud as possible. Beneath the jam packed seating were the chambers for the contestants. Twenty-five Cybertronians sat in front of lockers, meditating, listening to the announcements, preparing themselves in their own ways. Two similar looking racers sat on a bench together eying a silent white robot across from them. One of the two spoke up.

"So, how does it feel to know in a few minutes you're gonna be tasting the sting of defeat?"

The white robot across from them snorted, not bothering to raise the frosted blue glass of his visor. He remained calm, composed. His metallic mouth opened ever so slightly, hesitating for a moment. Then he spoke.

"I dunno. Guess you're about to find out though."

He chuckled again. At this, one of the two jumped up, hands clenched into a fist. His counterpart, however, remained seated and threw an elbow into his brother's gut. The angry yellow Cybertronian fell back into his seat, clutching his stomach.

"That hurt, Sideswipe."

Sideswipe grunted nonchalantly. Sunstreaker had a melodramatic streak in him a mile wide.

"Can't have you getting disqualified before the race has even begun, can we?"

His brother didn't bother to respond. The white robot remained seated, legs crossed. The two brothers continued to hurl insults at him. He could care less. They were all gonna be eating his dust soon.

-x-​

A massive green truck and a more diminutive turquoise one rolled along the street outside the thundering arena. They pulled up to the large entry and transformed, the smaller turquoise one taking the lead. He yelled to a young robot who was on the opposite side of the entrance arch. He called out in his gruff, geriatric voice.

"Hey! Young'n!"

The Cybertronian glanced over his shoulder, afraid he'd done something wrong.

"Uh, yes? Sir?"

The turquoise bot stomped towards him, pulling his trusty weapon off his back.

"Which way to the control room?"

The younger bot stared at his elder in confusion. He raised a hand to his head and tapped it, as if trying to dislodge that particular piece of information.

"I, Uh, I don't know, sir. sorry."

The turquoise robot grunted and stomped off to find a map, his older, larger green counterpart following behind. Springer slid his own rifle, a much newer model than Kup's old laser musket, off of his back and held it in his hands. A security guard stepped up to him, stun gun in hand.

"Excuse me, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to put your weapn away. This is a public place and-"

Springer shoved past him, not bothering to put away his gun. The security guard, looked baffled.

"You can't just-"

Springer cut him off. His voice was short, clipped. Irked.

"Official Army business, Rent-A-Bot, sorry to inconvenience you."

The security guard started chattering into his comm link with the main security office. Springer looked over the crowd in this section of the stadium. Long lines of Cybertronians waited for refreshments. He craned his neck and saw Kup staring at a holographic map of the massive structure. He strode over to him.

"Found the control room yet, Sergeant?"

Kup grumbled and started heading towards a set of stairs.

"Yep. C'mon, Private. We've got an announcement to make."

-x-​

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, the clear favorites to win the Iacon Grand Prix, emerged from the tunnel and began making their way to the center of the stadium, waving to the cheering crowds. Streamers and confetti rained down upon them. Behind them, Jazz clanked along, calm and collected as always. He didn't mind being the underdog. People wouldn't know what hit them when they saw him race. He'd been holding back in the prelims, barely squeaking by on purpose.

Once he and the other 24 competitors had made it to the center, two figures rose up on podiums. Last year's champion, the famous Blurr, and the Grand Prix's MC. He was giving a rousing speech on something or other. Jazz twas focusing on the race ahead, not some boring speech.

"And that, my fellow Cybertronians, is why, despite yesterday's tragic loss of our beloved leader, Sentinel Prime, we are here today. Contestants, please take your places!"

Jazz shuffled to his starting block, slowly morphing into his alternate mode. Next to him, a vehicle not dissimilar to his own alternate mode spoke up.

"Hey. Name's Wheeljack. Good luck out there today, okay? I don't so much care about winning. I just wanna see those smug twins get smeared, y'know?"

Jazz chuckled. He knew all too well.

"Alright, contestants, get ready! Get set! G-"

The MC was cut off by a thundering, gravelly voice booming out over the stadium's loudspeakers.

"Attention! All Grand Prix attendees! My name is Kup, Sergeant First Class, of the Autbot Army-"

Autobots? The slag are those?

"And I am here to inform you you are all in grave danger. We have reason to believe the Decepticons plan to bomb the Grand Prix today. Please, for all our safety, exit the stadium in an orderly fashion-"

The crowd booed the voice, hurling refreshments through the air, whistling, and generally making as much noise as possible.

"Please, folks, just..."

More uproar from the unhappy spectators.

"LISTEN TO ME!"

Sergeant First Class Kup's bellow all but silented the crowd. He was clearly angry now.

"Unless you all wanna get blown to slag by some bomb, you'll listen to me and get the hell outta there!"

This threw the crowd into a panic. They ran, trampling anyone unfortunate to slip and fall. They scrambled every which way in a desperate attempt to get out. Above it all, Jazz's enhanced audio receptors picked up a curious sound. A faint whistling, somewhere far above the stadium. It wasn't much cause for concern except for the fact that it was getting louder. Whatever was making it was getting closer.

He began to stride out when the first bomb struck the northern section of seats. The force knocked him backwards, but he ducked into a back roll and landed on his hands and knees. He stood when another struck only a few hundred feet behind him, this time propelling him forward, along with broken pieces of various spectators and rubble from the stadium.

He landed hard, skidding along the race track, scraping away his carefully applied paint job in the process.

Damn. That cost me a small fortune.

No time to worry about it now, though. He quickly hopped to his feet and saw the surviving contestants, the twins among them, speeding towards any exit they could find. A few more bombs burst around the stadium. Jazz followed suit and shifted to his car mode before blasting off to safety.

----



Was there enough Jazz for ya, RG?

 

[RaccoonGoon]

MOAR JAZZ.

But cool. I like how Kup said "folks." Fitting.

 

[Ultra Pidgeot]

CHAPTAR 2

Chapter 2​

Dion smashed his fists into his keyboard, swearing. The bombs at the Grand Prix had taken out tons of sensitive radio equipment around the coliseum, and he was now operating on a shaky sixty or so percent broadcasting power. He leaned back in the chair, rubbing his temples. He needed a good rest right now. But he knew that wasn't happening any time soon. It was crazy, he pondered, how things could go from tense but stable to more or less all out war in a matter of hours.

Clean up and rescue was still going on at the collapsed coliseum, the High Council was scrambling to replace Sentinel and discover who was behind the bombing, even if they already secretly knew. Now, the Iacon Communications Corps was scrambling to keep lines of communication open so information could be sent to everyone that needed it.

"I need a drink..."

He got up and strolled towards a tank past the rows of cluttered desks. Tapping the spigot, jet black oil poured into a disposable cup. He tossed back the liquid before consuming another. Ariel approached him, looking even more tired and worse for wear than he. He tossed his cup into a garbage disposal and handed her one. She smiled and filled it up. She looked up and spoke.

"So how are things on your end?"

"Ugh. Bad. We lost a good chunk of broadcasting equipment, so we can't broadcast out of the city, but I managed to re-route power to a few key antennae and we've boosted signal strength to about sixty-two percent, give or take. Still not big enough to get messages out of the city, but it's something. How are things for you?"

She too tossed aside her cup and the duo began walking towards their stations.

"Not much better. Every wavelength, every spare comm satellite, every server is down, clogged with activity. We're trying to go and find key pieces of hardware and bringing them back online and cordoning them off from the public and making sure they are then only used by the ICC. Understandably, the public has taken a negative stance on our making use of all methods of communication private, of course, and they're rioting. This whole situation is just... just plain bad."

Ariel split off from Dion as they went to their separate departments to resume working on keeping everyone informed.

-x-​

A young Cybertronian walked down the halls of the Decagon, metallic heels clicking sharply on the polished floor. After five minutes of silent walking, he entered a low lit room and sat down at a terminal, turned it on, and began monitoring the paths of signals being sent across Iacon. The screen lit up with varicolored ghost trails arching over a 3D render of the massive city. The robot noticed one particular signal coming from the building where all the Polyhex ICC workers where stationed. It was redirecting power to a few radio antennae near the broken coliseum and was causing them to being dangerously close to overloading the city's electrical grid in that sector. He cut the signal off with a swipe of his finger, and power levels returned to normal. Couldn't have the rescue efforts being halted because one comm officer thought his light radio chatter about fixing radios was more important than saving lives. They needed lights to operate down there.

-x-​

Ultra Magnus stood over the scene, surveying the workers scuttling about the rubble. He leaned on his war hammer, sighing.

"Today is just not our day, is it, Ironhide?"

"No sir..."

Ironhide shook his head softly before turning and heading back into the tent they were using as a command center for the search and rescue operation at the coliseum. Inside, Springer and Kup sat, rifles laid across their laps.

"So, again, can you two tell me what happened, exactly?"

Kup sighed, and leaned back, crossing his legs as he did so.

"Listen, we warned 'em what was coming, we got booed, I yelled at 'em, they shut up, bombs fell. End of story. Springer transformed into a chopper and we flew off, nearly had one of those orbital strike bombs hit us midair."

Ironhide typed out the aged Sergeant's account and saved it to the computer.

"Alright, thanks for your time, feel free to go back to the barracks or help us out here."

Kup grunted in response and stood up, exiting the tent, Springer following behind him. They exited the cordoned off area, and then Kup spoke up, drawing Springer in next to him.

"Listen to me, kid. I don't like this. Why not just blitz the whole city after causing such pandemonium? Why just one bombing and then stopping?"

"Hm.. good one. What if they're trying to draw our attention from other matters while they get ready to assault the city?"

Kup stopped, slapped Springer on the back, and transformed before speeding off.

"Come on, kid! That was one hell of an idea! We gotta let somebody know. Let's get to the Decagon, talk with with ISF!"

Springer transformed, and flew alongside Kup.

"ISF?"

"Iacon Security Force, now come on!"

The two sped off, watching the skies to make sure no one tried to bomb the city again.

-x-​

"Shockwave, tell me. What have we got in terms of defense?"

Shockwave pulled up a satellite image of the city, and zoomed in on various parts.

"Well, sir, it would appear we have minimal resistance... the Aerialbots are all the aerial defense they have, and ground units appear to be spread thin as the majority of the ISF is working on the rescue efforts at the coliseum. The weakest, least defended portion of the city would appear to be the Central Spaceport. They seem to have simply closed it for business at the moment, in lieu of evacuating civilians."

"Hit them there."

-x-​

Dion typed furiously, trying to get power back to his radio towers. He'd picked up what appeared to be no fewer than a hundred shuttles inbound for the Central Spaceport, but his power to them was cut. He swore and stood up, rushing to Ariel.

"Ariel! Can you get me a satellite comm link with someone? We have a big problem."

"Uh, uh.. sure, I guess."

She pulled up a screen and Dion looked into it, only to see the stern face of the chief of the ISF, Ultra Magnus, staring grimly at him.

"What do you want, kid? And it better be good. I'm in the middle of a rescue operation here and they need me to direct our efforts. This better not be a waste of my time."

Dion stammered, unsure of how to continue.

"Uh... I picked up about a hundred energy signatures of what would appear to be Decepticon shuttles headed for the Central Spaceport, sir. I think they blew up the coliseum to distract us from an invasion."

The feed died, the screen snapped to dull black, COMMMUNICATION ENDED emblazoned across the screen.

"Shit. Ariel, get somebody to take over my post, I gotta get word to someone so we don't all die."

"Wait, Dion..."

But it was too late. He was already out the door and in the elevator to the lobby. He stormed out the front door, looking up. He could faintly see the dots of the enemy ship whirring over head. He transformed and rocketed through the abandoned streets, skidding around corners and rocketing over hills. All that reckless driving in Polyhex had payed off. He was making his way to the High Council Pavilions, to the Decagon to raise an alarm.

 

[RaccoonGoon]

He gets turned into Optimus next chapter, doesn't he?