Post by Makeshift on Apr 1, 2008 3:24:07 GMT -5
The screen shows a blank table for a moment. There's the sound of small feet stepping across the metal floor, then a quiet burst as Makeshift jumps onto the table with the help of his leg boosters. He turns towards the camera.
"Since I seem to be the only one from my reality here, I guess it falls to me to give some information on where I'm from. My Cybertron's origin is unknown, at least to anyone I've ever talked to. We have the usual theories--Primus and Unicron, atechnogenesis, alien creators, all that--but nobody knows for sure. There certainly isn't a Unicron that I know of, anyway.1
"Anyway, whereas most realities seem to only have bulks in various sizes, mine had bulks, which ranged from about Bluestreak's size to about Jetfire's, on average, and my race. We call ourselves Mini-Cons." A pause. "In case anyone's wondering, 'bulks' isn't an insult. It's just a term Mini-Cons use to refer to, well, pretty much everyone else. And no, just adding con to our name doesn't make us Decepticons. Aside from size, we had some other differences from bulks that marked us as our own race. So for my reality, calling us 'transformers' isn't really a mark of race, it's just what we do.
"But I'm rambling. As I was saying, we had bulks and Mini-cons. We got along for the most part, but we tended to stay separate. Back before the wars started, most bulks just called themselves Transformers or Cybertronians, and Autobots were the peace keepers, lead by the Primes in Cyber-City. The last one known when the war began was....you guessed it....Optimus Prime.
"Roughly one million Earth years or so before I ended up here, stories started spreading about Mini-con villages being raided. Somebody was destroying the villages and gathering up the Mini-cons for some reason. Well, the stories were true. A group of insurgents had found legend of Mini-cons possessing great power or some mystical mumbo-jumbo and wanted to see for themselves, and the most direct course was to open a few up and take a look."
Makeshift pauses, visibly composing himself. "The Decepticons, as they called themselves, hit upon the truth. Mini-cons like me can combine with a bulk from our reality, boosting their power. The problem was that most Mini-cons either forgot about it or were flat-out unwilling to do it. It's not a pleasant process for us. But that didn't mean much to the Decepticons. They..."
Makeshift trails off. After a moment, he reaches for a cup sitting nearby, taking a drink out of it before continuing in a slightly shaky voice. "Through trial and error, they found a way to force Mini-cons into a powerlink. By doing so, they were able to overpower even Optimus Prime and his elite and wage war across the planet. My entire race was rounded up and used as slaves. Not even slaves.....little more than batteries.
"Then we got our only real break. The Air Defense Team managed to break us all out while the Decepticons were busy. We managed to slip away into a ship they'd prepared and blasted off before Megatron got back."
He sighs. "But of course, that didn't last, either. The ship was built from scavenged junk and salvaged parts, after all. So, when one of the engines blew out, we were sent drifting through space. Most of us went into stasis to preserve energy. By the time we woke up, the ship had crashed into a moon and broken apart. Half of the ship, and a good chunk of Mini-cons, fell down to the little blue planet below, while the rest of us were stranded on the moon.
"For a while, we despaired. The moon had few resources we could use, the ship was a write-off, and there was no atmosphere." To an atmospheric flier, that's probably the worst part. "Then Dualor came forward and grabbed the reins. By waving stuff like 'independence' and 'freedom' in our optics, he got us working on an underground fortress on the moon.
"We spent the next few hundred thousand years or so building and digging, all the while keeping watch on the planet below for signs of our lost comrades. Eventually, as the species below evolved and began their early civilization, a young human found the missing ship segment and accidentally activated a distress signal...which went straight back to Cybertron.
"Needless to say, both factions of bulks followed it. Around then, Dualor began his 'ark' project to gather up the Mini-cons stranded on Earth. Naturally, after he launched it, the Decepticons followed it back to us, and naturally, Dualor had planned for it. We hadn't spent almost a million years building defensive weapons for nothing, after all.
"The one thing Dualor didn't plan on was Leader-1's vengeful streak. He wasn't satisfied seeing Megatron bounced back; he wanted Megatron hurt, humbled, for everything he'd done. And then Leader-1 and Dualor had to pick the worst possible moment to slug it out, and Megatron had the last laugh, even as the rest of us abandoned the base and headed down towards Earth.
"And, well, that's about when I found myself here. If I had to give one piece of advice to anyone coming from an earlier point in my reality, it'd be simple; don't trust Dualor. He's only out for power. And if you can't stop him, and he manages to get the rest of the Mini-Cons to the moon base.....stop Leader-1. The base's defenses can deal with the Decepticons, at least long enough for everyone to escape, but if Leader-1 gets to the command center.....well, I guess I already described that."
He considers for a moment, then shrugs. "Well, I guess that's about all I've got. If anyone else shows up from my reality, they can add to this as necessary. Obviously, I don't know how the war went after we left, or what happened on Earth. Maybe somebody later can fill in more. Oh, and if anyone who was there can tell me how Cyclonus can make rotors work in vacuum, I'd appreciate it."
He tops down from the table, leaving the camera showing an empty spot again. The sound of his feet walking, and then the camera shuts off.
1Yes, there is a Unicron in the comic. However, technically, the Dreamwave Armadaverse doesn't have a Unicron of their own; the one that attacked this Cybertron is a dimension-hopper.
"Since I seem to be the only one from my reality here, I guess it falls to me to give some information on where I'm from. My Cybertron's origin is unknown, at least to anyone I've ever talked to. We have the usual theories--Primus and Unicron, atechnogenesis, alien creators, all that--but nobody knows for sure. There certainly isn't a Unicron that I know of, anyway.1
"Anyway, whereas most realities seem to only have bulks in various sizes, mine had bulks, which ranged from about Bluestreak's size to about Jetfire's, on average, and my race. We call ourselves Mini-Cons." A pause. "In case anyone's wondering, 'bulks' isn't an insult. It's just a term Mini-Cons use to refer to, well, pretty much everyone else. And no, just adding con to our name doesn't make us Decepticons. Aside from size, we had some other differences from bulks that marked us as our own race. So for my reality, calling us 'transformers' isn't really a mark of race, it's just what we do.
"But I'm rambling. As I was saying, we had bulks and Mini-cons. We got along for the most part, but we tended to stay separate. Back before the wars started, most bulks just called themselves Transformers or Cybertronians, and Autobots were the peace keepers, lead by the Primes in Cyber-City. The last one known when the war began was....you guessed it....Optimus Prime.
"Roughly one million Earth years or so before I ended up here, stories started spreading about Mini-con villages being raided. Somebody was destroying the villages and gathering up the Mini-cons for some reason. Well, the stories were true. A group of insurgents had found legend of Mini-cons possessing great power or some mystical mumbo-jumbo and wanted to see for themselves, and the most direct course was to open a few up and take a look."
Makeshift pauses, visibly composing himself. "The Decepticons, as they called themselves, hit upon the truth. Mini-cons like me can combine with a bulk from our reality, boosting their power. The problem was that most Mini-cons either forgot about it or were flat-out unwilling to do it. It's not a pleasant process for us. But that didn't mean much to the Decepticons. They..."
Makeshift trails off. After a moment, he reaches for a cup sitting nearby, taking a drink out of it before continuing in a slightly shaky voice. "Through trial and error, they found a way to force Mini-cons into a powerlink. By doing so, they were able to overpower even Optimus Prime and his elite and wage war across the planet. My entire race was rounded up and used as slaves. Not even slaves.....little more than batteries.
"Then we got our only real break. The Air Defense Team managed to break us all out while the Decepticons were busy. We managed to slip away into a ship they'd prepared and blasted off before Megatron got back."
He sighs. "But of course, that didn't last, either. The ship was built from scavenged junk and salvaged parts, after all. So, when one of the engines blew out, we were sent drifting through space. Most of us went into stasis to preserve energy. By the time we woke up, the ship had crashed into a moon and broken apart. Half of the ship, and a good chunk of Mini-cons, fell down to the little blue planet below, while the rest of us were stranded on the moon.
"For a while, we despaired. The moon had few resources we could use, the ship was a write-off, and there was no atmosphere." To an atmospheric flier, that's probably the worst part. "Then Dualor came forward and grabbed the reins. By waving stuff like 'independence' and 'freedom' in our optics, he got us working on an underground fortress on the moon.
"We spent the next few hundred thousand years or so building and digging, all the while keeping watch on the planet below for signs of our lost comrades. Eventually, as the species below evolved and began their early civilization, a young human found the missing ship segment and accidentally activated a distress signal...which went straight back to Cybertron.
"Needless to say, both factions of bulks followed it. Around then, Dualor began his 'ark' project to gather up the Mini-cons stranded on Earth. Naturally, after he launched it, the Decepticons followed it back to us, and naturally, Dualor had planned for it. We hadn't spent almost a million years building defensive weapons for nothing, after all.
"The one thing Dualor didn't plan on was Leader-1's vengeful streak. He wasn't satisfied seeing Megatron bounced back; he wanted Megatron hurt, humbled, for everything he'd done. And then Leader-1 and Dualor had to pick the worst possible moment to slug it out, and Megatron had the last laugh, even as the rest of us abandoned the base and headed down towards Earth.
"And, well, that's about when I found myself here. If I had to give one piece of advice to anyone coming from an earlier point in my reality, it'd be simple; don't trust Dualor. He's only out for power. And if you can't stop him, and he manages to get the rest of the Mini-Cons to the moon base.....stop Leader-1. The base's defenses can deal with the Decepticons, at least long enough for everyone to escape, but if Leader-1 gets to the command center.....well, I guess I already described that."
He considers for a moment, then shrugs. "Well, I guess that's about all I've got. If anyone else shows up from my reality, they can add to this as necessary. Obviously, I don't know how the war went after we left, or what happened on Earth. Maybe somebody later can fill in more. Oh, and if anyone who was there can tell me how Cyclonus can make rotors work in vacuum, I'd appreciate it."
He tops down from the table, leaving the camera showing an empty spot again. The sound of his feet walking, and then the camera shuts off.
1Yes, there is a Unicron in the comic. However, technically, the Dreamwave Armadaverse doesn't have a Unicron of their own; the one that attacked this Cybertron is a dimension-hopper.
