Old '05 Storywriting

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Old '05 Storywriting

Post by ShaddaShk » January 22nd, 2016, 8:03 pm

So I finally decided to share some of my writings. Some of you have already heard me talk about Transformers, if you haven't - well, now you know. :D This story is an old one, was written in response to a Fanfic challenge back December 2005 on the Transformers board called The Cybertron Archive (known as TCA among those there). Yes, yes it is fanfiction.

Since this is so old, no need to critique it or anything. But I thought it would be neat to compare this style of writing to a newer story that I'll post later.

When Logic Fails

"Prowl! Emergency!"

Ironhide's accented drawl barked over the intercom, giving Prowl a start from its suddenness. It was quickly forgotten as the Security Chief continued, his voice saying what his words did not.

"Get to the entrance of the Ark pronto!"

Someone was in danger.

Prowl didn't bother replying after Ironhide closed the channel, but got up from his desk and sprinted to the main hallway. Once there he transformed and gunned his engine for the entrance of the Ark, his mind running through the long list of Autobots that were on down time and not in the Ark, despite the futility of the action. Ironhide would notify him soon enough, it wouldn't do any good to second guess and come to the wrong conclusions. But he was powerless to prevent the action.

He skidded to a halt on the dirt and gravel ground of the mountain terrain. Ironhide was there, as well as Hound and... Ratchet, looking grumpier than usual. That didn't bode well, for if Ironhide had included Ratchet that could only mean someone needed medical attention. All of them were already in alt-mode and Ironhide barely waited till he came to a complete stop before spinning his tires and ordering the rest of them to follow him.

"Bluestreak just called in. Apparently someone had just tried to take a shot at him." He explained while they sped along the road at dangerous speeds. "Would have probably got him too, but thank Primus Sunstreaker saw the guy lining up the shot and shoved Blue out of the way - but he caught the bullet. I don't know how bad he is, all Blue told me is that he needed medical attention. Bluestreak's staying with him at the Fernhill Park off of the 30, while Sideswipe and Jazz are pursuing whoever tried to take the shot."

"Are you calling any others?" Prowl asked.

"Sure," Ironhide grunted. "I've got Brawn, Trailbreaker and Mirage all heading towards the same area, but we'll be getting there before they do."


They arrived at Fernhill Park in record time, Prowl and Ratchet using their emergency lights and sounds to clear the way through the human traffic to get there even faster. Once there, Prowl didn't bother looking for the proper car entrance, but lead the group over the curb and onto the grass grounds. The two Autobots were easy to spot; Sunstreaker was lying on his side on the ground, and an anxious Bluestreaker crouched beside him. At the sound of the engine cars, Bluestreak's head jerked up and upon spotting them he stood, but was reluctant to move away until they slid to a halt.

"Oh, I'm so glad your here Ratchet!" Bluestreak started talking before they even started transforming. "I didn't know what to do - one moment we were just having fun and the next Sunstreaker is pushing me to the ground and then he's falling with a hole in his side and Jazz and Sideswipe are taking off yelling at me to call the base and Sunstreaker was just laying there and-"

"Bluestreak!" Ratchet interrupted the gunner, firm but not unkindly, as he transformed. Bluestreak closed his mouth and hunched his shoulders. Ratchet finished transforming, stepped to Sunstreaker's side and crouched down while Ironhide questioned the gunner. Looking at the warrior's face, he saw the dimmed blue optics struggling to follow his movements.

"How are you doing?" he asked conversationally as he studied the entry and exit wounds on the yellow mech. The frame surrounding both had melted and warped slightly, testifying to the type of weapon used.

"I've been shot by an illegal beam weapon, doc," Sunstreaker grated out. "How do you think I feel? Blue alright?"

"You'll make it," Ratchet said, as much to comfort himself as those around him as he probed the wounds, trying to be gentle. "And Bluestreak doesn't have a scratch on him." As he explored, he noticed that someone had already done some basic repairs.

He looked at an approaching Bluestreak sharply. "You did this?"

Bluestreak jerked to a halt. "Y-yeah," he stuttered, suddenly afraid that he did something wrong.

"Very good..." Ratchet commented distractedly as he spread out his tools, quickly selecting the first ones. "You saved him from loosing more fluid then he might have. Very important."

The gunner relaxed slightly, but jerked when Prowl laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Take it easy, Blue. You did good." Prowl encouraged the younger mech, looking into the other's optics, glowing with anxiety. Bluestreak nodded and let out a puff of air through his vents, but Prowl could tell by the twitching of his door-wings that he wouldn't be settling down anytime soon. With an order to stay near Ratchet, Prowl gave his shoulder a brotherly pat before moving off to Ironhide who was growling into his comm unit.

Ironhide signed off just as he got within audio rang and turned towards Prowl. "That was Jazz," he informed him. "They were able to tail the suspect for about ten blocks south-west but lost him in the traffic. We'll finish up here then go help them. He's got a Earthen alt-mode with a few quarks." Ironhide quickly rattled off the description, then turned and barked in Hound's direction. "Hound, what have you got for me?"

"That they know nothing about Earth."

"They?" Ironhide questioned before Prowl could, walking over to the tracker but stopping far enough away so he wouldn't mess up the terrain before Hound was finished with it.

The Autobot nodded. "Mhm. There's at least two of them... possibly three. Cybertronian, so they're Transformers as well. The third set of tracks may be just scuff marks by the others, but I believe it is a whole 'nother set of tracks. They're small and light so they were made by a mini-bot, possibly a femme..."

Prowl didn't like the sound of that. It meant three someones had went through all the trouble of coming from Cybertron to a 'backwater' world without alerting anyone. And all to shoot at a low ranking Autobot? It just didn't make any sense. He couldn't think of anything in Bluestreak's past to warrant this type of attention.

Hound brushed at a few crushed leaves on the ground, then touched lightly at two impressions heavily pressed into the ground. "This was the shooter. He crouched to take the shot, then twisted around and took off in that direction, transforming a few steps later." He pointed to a set of tracks in the ground, then to where they'd left mud on the pavement.

"And the other two?" Prowl questioned, somewhat impatiently.

"They are a little harder... See how the left side of the tire tracks sink in a little more? The second one is possibly a two-wheeler and followed in the tracks of the first one. The third one?" Hound sighed and flicked his hand. "His or her footprints disappear after two steps. I would say the alt-mode was some sort of hover-craft, but I can't see Jazz or Sideswipe missing that..."

"Alright, at least we know a little bit more than we use to." Ironhide tried to look on the bright side. "Hound, you and I will go meet up with Jazz and Sideswipe; see if we can help them find the trail they lost. Prowl; you start a perimeter search with the park at the center. See if you can spot any two-wheeler that seems out of place or anything else that might be the third suspect."


"Are you sure it's our target?"

The mech sighed. How would he get it through that thick cranium that passed as a head for his buddy? "His main color is white, the model is a 'Datsun'. That's all that matters. Come on, if you were some high ranking officer, would you do the work you could have someone else do?"

There was silence; the answer obvious for the three Transformers. Of course they would rather delegate!

"That's what I thought. Now come on back, while everyone's still looking in the wrong spot."


As Prowl widened his circle, his optics studying every vehicle he passed and the road for any out of place dirt, his unease steadily rose. Why would someone be shooting at Bluestreak? And what had happened to the third mech? No one just disappeared into thin air unless they were Skywarp or Mirage, but even Mirage would leave footprints in recently wet terrain.

Hmm... small and light... Prowl pondered, pausing in the silent street to double check a motorcycle. When he was sure it was a true Terran vehicle he moved on. And able to escape the notice of two very experienced warriors.

He quickly out ruled the chance of the third having some cloaking device. While it was a small possibility, the drain of such a device on a much smaller unit made it far fetched that he - or she - could keep it on for very long without sending out signals that Jazz would pick up instantly. A hover vehicle could be ruled out as well, for it wouldn't blend in with the humans' technology and would be spotted quickly by the Terran-seasoned Transformers. The most common flying alt-modes had the problem of being too noisy for such a clean get away. So what did that leave him with?

The trees! Prowl thought suddenly, remembering the layout of the park. There had been plenty of trees where the sniper had fired from. He could see it being a simple matter for a light, small bot to shimmy up the trunk of one of the larger trees whose branches could easily hid him. Prowl knew that any half-witted criminal could get their hands on a simple device to mask the unique signals every Transformer emitted.

Prowl suddenly slammed on his brakes at the realization of that thought, his pulse speeding up. The third suspect was still at the park!

"Prowl - erk!" the transmission broke off, and was suddenly replaced by static - a comm unit destroyed or jammed in the middle of use.

Prowl spun on one wheel and slammed on the accelerator, not caring if he burnt an inch of rubber off of his tires.


Bluestreak pulled his hand away from the side of his head where the mini-bot's talon's had raked him. It came away covered in blue fluid. He attempted to blink away the pain and looked up to where he had tossed the mini-bot. The mech was already back on his feet, a feral smile on his face. Bluestreak quickly put the butt of his rifle against his shoulder but kept the barrel pointed at the ground.

"I don't want to have to kill you," he told the other, his pulse pounding. "Surrender now."

"Oh, it's not my life you should be worried about," the mech purred, flexing his clawed hands. "Since my 'partners' aren't here, I'll just have to take you out myself."

"Oh, no you don't," Sunstreaker growled weakly and struggled to get up. Ratchet swiftly put a hand on the warrior's chest and held him down with the one hand. "Stay down," Ratchet hissed. "You can't do anything in your state but tear up more of your internals."

A snap of a large branch caused Bluestreak's attention to jerk towards the trees. The mini-bot pounced on the Autobot's distraction, literally. But he hadn't counted on the Datsun's quick reflexes. Knowing he had made a mistake in taking his optics off his opponent, Bluestreak had already been turning back to the mini-bot. It was pure instinct that brought the rifle to bear on the blur heading towards him and flexed the servos needed to pull the trigger.

The dead weight of the bot hit him and sent him crashing to the ground, his rifle flying from his grip. Panicking, Bluestreak shoved at the frame, trying to get the mech off before his clawed hands slashed at his throat. In his state, it took him a moment to realize that his aim had been true yet again and quench his panic. Shoving the frame off, he scrambled across the ground towards his rifle.

Sunstreaker batted weakly at the medic's arm, but Ratchet didn't budge. Before either of them could do anything else there was a high-pitched discharge sound and Bluestreak cried out in pain.

"Not another move out of you three," a voice ordered. "Or you'll be missing more than just a Tactician."


Despite an overwhelming urge to just charge in, Prowl had forced himself to approach the park from the wooded side on foot and now was crouched next to one of the larger trunks, taking the situation in.

Ratchet was sitting crouched next to Sunstreaker, his body nearly vibrating with pent up action that would explode if given the chance. On the ground was the frame of a mech that Prowl didn't recognize, presumably part of the group that had started the attack. He couldn't tell if the mini-bot was in stasis lock or permantly shut down, but if it was Bluestreak who had done the shooting he didn't doubt which of the two it was.

The gunner was also laying on the ground, one side of his faced lacerated and bleeding and a hole drilled through the elbow of his gun arm, rending the entire arm practically useless. Despite that, the young Datsun had evidently been trying to reach for his rifle with his off-hand.

And keeping them all covered was an average size gold and black mech and a large brown and black mech. Both sported rifles that Prowl recognized as the black-market upgrade of the PB-20. A deadly weapon and nothing to play with at close range. It was no wonder Bluestreak had halted his efforts and Ratchet was keeping himself still; at this range, the mech couldn't miss, and whoever he shot would most likely end up dead.

"I'm not the Prime's advisor," Bluestreak was saying, his voice stiff with pain. "I'm just a gunner."

Prowl's optics narrowed.

"You expect me to believe that, Autobot? I didn't roll of the assembly line yesterday, and you're not going to live to see tomorrow." The mech barked with laughter.

His laughter was cut short when a menacing growl sounded behind him, followed by a clatter against the concrete. The brown mech whipped around, only to have his vision filled by white knuckles. The smack of metallic frame against frame was like the crack of a sniping rifle and the brown mech staggered back, his vision swimming and his cheek throbbing with pain. The gold mech spun around, but before he could react to the situation, a red blurr tackled him and they went tumbling and rolling on the ground. The brown mech shook his head and tried to bring his rifle to bear, his previous victims forgotten.

But Prowl was moving too fast, his door-wings flared. Stepping in, he slammed a palm into the brown mech's chin while his other hand grabbed the rifle. The mech's plates clicked from the impact and it was a simple matter for Prowl to step in further and thrust his shoulder into the brown mech's chest while maintaining a grip on the gun. The brown mech staggered back, his grip on his gun slipping, but he didn't let it go completely. Annoyance flicking across his optics, Prowl tightened his own grip on the rifle and used brute strength to yank it away.

The mech yelped, his optics going wide as the rifle left his grip, afraid that it would be turned on him. He frantically tried to backpedal. Crowding close, Prowl hooked a foot behind his opponent's ankle joint of the other and swept the leg up and away. The mech fell to the ground with a muted 'whump' and Prowl planted a foot on his chest to prevent him from rising again. Casually cradling the PB-20, Prowl leaned down with narrowed optics.

"Surrender." It was not a question.

The mech whimpered. "Y-y-yes, I s-s-surrender."

"Arg, I yield! Uncle, uncle!" Prowl looked up to find Sideswipe all but smearing the gold mech into the earth, one knee on his back and one arm maintaining a steely grip on the gold mech's elbow. "Someone get this crazy bot off me - what is an 'uncle' anyway?"

Sideswipe growled and the mech yelped. "Hey, hey, easy. I'll go to prison, or whatever you Autobots call places that can't serve a decent drink."

"Prowl," Prowl saw Ironhide standing next to him, energon-cuffs dangling in his hands. Without a word Prowl stepped off the mech and yanked him to his feet. Ironhide quickly slapped the cuffs on, then moved off to rescue the gold mech from Sideswipe. A minute later Trailbreaker, Brawn and Mirage showed up to guard and escort the two mechs back to the Ark and a waiting shuttlecraft.

He was intercepted by Jazz and Sunstreaker when he was halfway to Bluestreak and Sunstreaker who were both being tended to until transportation arrived.

"Why'd you drop your gun, Prowl?" Jazz questioned, having seen the whole thing. "Wouldn't it have made more sense to try and talk them down over a gun?"

Prowl frowned and shook his right hand, flexing the fingers. "The mech was beyond logical reasoning. Since they both had high-powered guns of their own, there was a high chance that he or his partner in crime intended to shoot the hostages, regardless of what I said. I have learned when logic fails, to resort to... more satisfying means." His hand tightened into a fist before relaxing.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with Bluestreak and Sunstreaker, would it?" Sideswipe questioned, his face showing his amusement.

Prowl's door-wings flicked aggressively and his optics narrowed. But a moment later he relaxed and just stated calmly, "the mech made a mistake. A very illogical one."

Prowl shouldered his way between the two and made his way towards Ratchet and his two patients. Sideswipe watched him go, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he watched Prowl kneel down next to Ratchet. Prowl could bark and growl all he wanted to, but then, it just took events like this to show who he was really barking at.
word count: 3237
"We've just put a hit on the man that just got married." ~Winged
"Get a Sunder and run people over. That always makes you happy." ~Kes

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Re: Old '05 Storywriting

Post by NeoJabez » January 22nd, 2016, 10:07 pm

Not bad, can't wait to read more recent stuff!
word count: 10
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