Beast Wars Infinity Chpt 1: Evil Never Dies
By
DarkSpark
The place, planet earth. The time, millions of stellar cycles into its prehistoric past. This place and time had been the great battle ground for the epic conflict known back on the machine based planet of Cybertron as the Beast Wars. During that war, the heroic maximal leader Optimus Primal had lead a team of brave explorers against the megalomaniacal predacon Megatron and his band of wicked underlings. Primal and his team fought bravely against overwhelming odds, facing off against threats ranging from alien death traps, decepticon remnants, maximal experiments gone wrong, and of course, ongoing and ever increasingly more dangerous and elaborate predacon attacks and sinister plots! Many warriors, both maximal and predacon, fought, lived, and died throughout the course of the Beast Wars, the memories of their brave exploits or evil deeds becoming the stuff of legends. And in the end, when all was said and done and the smoke had finally cleared, the maximals had stood triumphant, soundly defeating Megatron’s forces and taking the would-be conqueror of the universe back to Cybertron to face justice for his crimes, leaving prehistoric earth in peace to continue its natural flow of time.
However, the story of Optimus Primal, Megatron, and those who followed them is now closed…And someone else’s story is about to begin! For deep beneath the ocean waves of earth, a planet that has already endured so much conflict and strife, a new menace was stirring, one that would set off a chain of events that would restart the Beast Wars anew! Deep, deep at the bottom of the sea, in an area where two great warriors, one good, the other unspeakably evil, had clashed, done battle, and died, something amazing was happening. The seabed in question, barren save for a few scattered remains, a giant broken claw here, a massive torn fin there, a tiny speck of light was drifting helplessly within the salty water. The tiny thing seemed so sickly and weak by itself, like a dying firefly. It hovered feebly over the remains of the two fallen titans, flowing from one to the other, almost as if experiencing nostalgia. As the speck of light hovered over each remain, more, even smaller beads of light seeped out from the shattered metal to join the first, making it grow larger and larger by the second. In no time at all, the tiny speck had grown in size to that of a small fish, slowly but surely beginning to look healthier and healthier as it expanded and contracted like a pair of lungs desperate for air, soaking up as much of the smaller lights as it could, as though its life depended on it! Unfortunately, it didn’t look as though the growing speck was going to get the time it needed to finish gathering up its comrades, for at that moment a massive shadow passed over it, the shadow of a hungry shark! Before the little light even had a chance to escape, the shark swallowed it whole in one big gulp and continued on its way.
However, as the shark swam through the underwater gravesite, more of the smaller lights arose forth from the various remains scattered across the ocean floor. These shimmering pinpoints of energy followed the shark along the course of its travel and actually phased through its flesh and into its body. At first the shark seemed fine, swimming lazily through the depths, the king of its domain, but as the lights continued seeped into its body it began to twitch. These twitches changed into convulsions, and the convulsions changed into violent spasms as the shark twisted and turned in the water in a state of complete and total agony, as though it were being burning alive from the inside out. The little lights, intent on their mission to join the others within the tortured shark’s belly, swarmed all over the animal like killer bees protecting their hive. The shark, unable to defend itself from these mini specters who soaked into its skin as readily as sunlight, began to take on the same shimmering glow as the lights invading its body, a glow that grew steadily more intense by the minute as the lights swirled around their victim in a flashing whirlpool of blue, white, and violet. The whirlpool of light illuminated the entire area in all directions, until as suddenly as the horrific lightshow had begun, it stopped. The shark floated shakily through the water, its pain easing slightly and the strain upon its primitive mind all so confusing, but for the most part, it seemed as the though the worst of its unusual experience had passed. That is until a sliver of light shot forth from the startled shark’s body like a laser beam, quickly followed by another, and another, until ultimately the mighty fish’s body was torn apart in a massive explosion of light and power! The cause of its death, a large ball of energy that anyone from Cybertron could have identified to you as a Spark shot through the water like an armed torpedo toward the surface, haunting, maniacal laughter echoing from the center of its being in response to the joy it felt for having taken a life in what seemed like far too long.
A flock of seagulls which had been soaring over the surface of the water in search of food, could sense something horrible was coming and just barely flew away as the cackling Spark burst forth from the sea with indescribable force and made a beeline for the shore. Startled sea lions barked wildly in fear as they ran across the beach as fast as they could on their flippers, determined not to get in the way of the Spark’s rampage as the power of its passing created big tidal waves and kicked up clouds of sand everywhere. The Spark chased the horrified animals for but a few moments, their fear giving it pleasure that served to intensify its power but failed to give it a body. With one last bellowing fit of laughter the Spark lifted up, up, up into the sky and vanished into the clouds above, gone from the sight of the relieved sea lions as they collapsed upon the beach in exhaustion.
“OHOHOHOHOHO!!,” laughed the formless demon as it raced across the sky in search of a new body to inhabit, its empathic abilities enabling it to sense the hopes and fears of everything around it.
The Spark sensed countless scores of wildlife ranging from tiny lizards scurrying through the jungle trees, birds flying through the sky, and big saber-toothed cats stalking prey through the underbrush, all useless to him except for amusement. The Spark wanted a body with which to feel, to touch, to KILL…And it wanted one NOW. During its journey the Spark had moments in which it thought it had found vessel to house its life force, only to discover that the bodies in question were already occupied. It must have passed by well over twenty separate Maximal stasis pods and not one of them contained a blank protoform for it to inhabit. Oh sure, it could have conceivably possessed and fought for control over any of the already occupied bodies down below, but the Spark had no desire to share living space with someone else after having been forced to share a portion of its essence with another during its previous lifetime. The mere memory of its past humiliation and torment at the hands of its “half-brother” made the Spark want to retch, if only it were possible to do so. At one point the traveling Spark had stopped to investigate a peaceful village of furry early humans, their homes built into a cliff-face. However, the thought of spooking the early humans, tempting though it was, was not what stopped the disembodied being from continuing its journey. Oh no, it was the ludicrous sight of the early humans’ apparent ruler that made the Spark pause in its quest to find a body.
“Hhhmm, today King Wazzzpinator teach fleshy bots to paint pretty pictures with their fingers!,” proclaimed a bizarre, green and yellow robot with insect wings and bulging compound eyes, a circle of early human both young and old gathered around their bug-like deity, hanging on his every sentence as though it were words of wisdom from above.
King Waspinator sat crossed legged upon a large stone throne as he made a very dramatic show of soaking his hands in four jars of paint made from crushed leaves and berries, one red, a second blue, a third yellow, and a fourth green, his every movement evoking gasps of wonder from his attentive audience. The early humans watched on in silence as their great mentor paused in what some might of construed as deep, deep intellectual thought, getting paint all over his mandibles as he scratched his chin in contemplation in the process.
King Waspinator’s faithful followers, all of whom had leaned forward in anticipation of the great artist’s next move, all jumped back in shock as he suddenly sprung to life and said, “Wazpinator knows!”
In a flurry of motion King Waspinator smothered the great stone tablet he’d been given to draw upon in big messy hand strokes, his followers in the front row too engaged in watching the creation of a “great masterpiece” to care about being splattered with excess paint. Waspinator’s yellow tongue stuck out the side of his insectoid mouth as he worked quickly and with intense concentration, one of his human servants dabbing his metal head with a wash rag as though such activity could cause him, a sentient robot, to sweat. And when the artwork was finally complete, King Waspinator let out an exaggerated gasp and lay back upon his thrown, paint stained hands over his head and face, milking the suspense felt by his subjects for its worth, peaking between his fingers to gauge their reactions. When Waspinator thought his subjects had had enough, he rose up straight, his painting still hidden from the eyes of his captive audience as he snapped his fingers and buzzed, “Ehem, Wazpinator would like a drum-roll pleazzzzeee.”
Almost at once, two human musicians began to beat furiously upon two makshift robot head drums, one red and silver with insect features and the other yellow and blue with red optics. The audience leaned forward in ever growing suspense, some actually shaking in their seats while one overly excited fellow began chewing on his finger nails. When King Waspinator decided he’d teased his subjects long enough, he turned the stone tablet around to reveal his masterpiece…a big gooey purple mess that vaguely resembled an angry faced purple dinosaur lying dead upon its side, having apparently been defeated by a yellow and green hero who looked suspiciously like the “artist” who had drawn him.
“Wazzzpinator calls it…Wazzzpinator Rules,” the former predacon stated matter-of-factly as his audience erupted into hoots and hollers that probably passed for cheers in early human language.
“Of all the predacons to survive…,” the Spark grumbled coldly to itself as it took off in search of a body yet again, not sticking around to witness a pair of young early humans play a good natured prank upon King Waspinator, pouring a small wooden bucket of berry paint over his head just as he retook his throne.
The Spark could sense the presence of many more sleeping protoforms, but none unoccupied in the immediate area. The Spark was beginning to grow impatient, it longed for corporeal existence and by the Pit it would not be denied it while an incompetent bug ruled supreme over humanity’s ancestors, dozens of Maximal protoforms slept waiting to take physical forms once they activated, and every living thing on this disgusting mud ball of a planet enjoyed the simple pleasures that came with having a body. The Spark glowed brighter as its rage grew stronger, howling like a wild beast as it plowed through a bird’s nest, killing all the eggs contained within and leaving behind a frantic mother bird to squawk and mourn over its unborn offspring. Even the joys of killing and causing pain wasn’t enough to alleviate the Spark’s outrage over its lack of shape and form, as it tore through the tree line and anything else unfortunate enough to get in its way. The Spark would not even consider the possibility of possessing King Waspinator, the thought of sharing the same body as such a feeble minded weakling angered it even more as it took off like a shot out of the forest, screaming monstrously all the while.
The bodiless specter cruised past lakes, jungles, mountains, and canyons until finally coming upon a sight that put a stop to its tantrum. The Spark floated silently in awe over a place that it knew all too well, a place that had been both its home and its prison, a vast field of lava pits surrounded by a dark, barren landscape teaming with jagged mountaintops and black clouds that blotted out the sun even in the day. The charred remains of the Darksyde, spaceship and home base to the Predacons who’d served under the Spark’s dungeon master, still lay scattered here and there from when the Vok emissary Tigerhawk had destroyed it with such frightening ease. Memories of a tyrannical saurian squeezing the core of its life essence in a cage of energon spikes, and later within the claws of a monstrous doppelganger who wore the face of a past enemy, haunted the Spark, as did the memories of the pain both tormentors had caused. However, the painful memories of the times it had spent in this Primusforsaken place were not what had made the Spark linger, it was the presence of life lying dormant at the bottom of the lava pits below that had grabbed its attention. No…Not life, but the psychic imprints left behind from a life, no, two lives! The Spark could feel it, feel the pain, rage, and most important of all, fear of two extinguished sparks who had met their mutual end beneath the waves of molten rock, the last emotions they had ever felt before plunging to their doom. If the Spark had possessed a face at the time it would have been grinning madly from sheer, unadulterated evil joy. For where there had once been sparks, there was sure to be a body or two as well.
“Must be my lucky day, OHOHOHO!” it laughed to itself, without a second thought or a hint of fear, the Spark dived into the fiery lake of lava, seemingly to its own destruction!
The Spark roared in pain and agony beyond what anyone could possibly comprehend as it forced itself to swim deeper and deeper into the depths of the lava pit, resolute in its quest to find a body it could claim as its own. The Spark pulsated and contorted in ways no normal spark could possibly endure as the burning, killing heat of the molten rocks all around it worked to destroy the Spark. Deeper and deeper the Spark went, forcing itself to continue onward even as it experienced the sensation of being burned alive over and over, pain that an ordinary spark would have only felt for an instant before being destroyed by the heat. The Spark ignored its pain and pushed any thoughts of not possessing the energy needed to escape this hellish inferno should its search turn out to be in vain to the back of its mind, it would soon have a body, a body all its own and no one else’s. No longer would it put up with sharing any part of its being like it had before, oh no, this new form would belong to it alone, no one else could have it!
Just as the Spark felt as though the agony brought on by its rage and the lava trying futilely to destroy it would tear its being apart, the Spark finally came upon its prize. Deep at the bottom of this living Pit, the Spark could see the shadowy outline of a body, a transformer’s body. Upon closer inspection the Spark could see that the body was actually two bodies, horribly twisted and fused together by the heat of the lava and… something else…The Spark could almost swear that the grotesque shell was composed of transmetal alloys, but it could not tell for certain because of the nearly slagged condition of the “corpse.”
“Though undergoing transmetalization would explain why it wasn’t destroyed completely…,” thought the Spark in all seriousness as it continued its dive as well as the inspection of its discovery.
Mangled limbs that did not go together protruded from the center of the body, a five fingered hand seemingly reaching out desperately for life here, a tail equipped with the remnants of what could have been a stinger there. Perhaps most horrifying of all were the two half melted heads and faces of the two bots who had perished together, two gaping holes the only indication of where their mouths had been, left open to scream silently in terror for all eternity. The Spark breathed in the negative emotions of pain, fear, and anger left behind by the dead bots’ final moments and used it to augment its strength as it forced itself onward. Like oil and females, negative thoughts and feelings tasted best when aged, pondered the Spark to itself in amusement as its form stabilized, the damage caused by the lava lessening. But best of all, better than the taste of spectral feelings left by the dead was the fact that the Spark could sense that the body it raced toward even now was sparkless! It truly would belong to no one but itself!
“Home is where the Spark is…OHOHOHOHO!,” the Spark proclaimed as it drew closer and closer to its prize, absorbing the hate, anger, fear, and pain of the deceased transformers as it went, until finally plunging itself into the very core of the repugnant body.
A deadly silence followed, like the calm at the eye of a great storm…followed shortly by the storm itself. The transmetalized corpse began to glow a brilliant hot white that glowed brighter than the red hot heat of the molten rock around it. The body’s light glowed brighter and brighter, like a star about to go super nova, while within its nightmarish core the Spark’s amazing regenerative powers had set about the task of repairing the damaged machine’s internal systems. Singed wires and melted circuitry sprung back to life as if by magic, the ruined onboard computers and other such vital systems and equipment not only coming back online, but merging together into one instead of simply being melted together. Meanwhile, outside the body’s form had begun to shift, unneeded extra arms and legs fused together to become a normal pair of arms and legs each, the melted ball of slag where the two dead bots connected became a proper torso, and last but least, the two screaming heads, minds, and faces of the deceased melded together to become one horrifying visage that let out a screeching roar of triumph as the transformative energy being produced by its new form unleashed in a single, massive wave of pure chaos.
Anyone topside while all this had been happening might have been captivated by the boiling, frothing mess that was the lava pits at the center of the wastelands…that is until they along with everything else in the immediate area was blown to oblivion by the enormous explosion that soon followed. The blast stretched upwards for hundreds of feet, and from a distance bore a frightening resemblance to an atom bomb going off, the shockwave from the blast stretching for miles around. When the mushroom cloud finally cleared, absolutely nothing remained of the wastelands that had been the site of the Predacon base, all that remained was an enormous crater littered with obsidian glass left over from the lava. The crater in question was so huge that it looked as if it had been caused by a meteor impact rather than by the lone figure that kneeled down in the center of it. Surrounded by obsidian glass on all sides, covered in some sort of black cloak, the lone figure slowly but surely rose to its clawed feet using only the knuckles of one mighty hand. Shortly thereafter the cloak unfurled around itself to reveal that they were in fact a pair of enormous black wings adorned with clicking claws, and each wing was almost as long across as the figure was tall. Using these very same black “wing claws,” the lone figure, a fifty foot tall red and black male robot with black talons on its hands and feet took off into the air with a single stroke, leaving huge gusts of wind in its wake.
The giant Cybertronian floated lazily but swiftly upward, its scaly red arms folded across its black chest, which was adorned down the center with a fearsome looking red chest plate that resembled the head of a nightmarish bird. The robot’s legs were red with two massive black claws on each foot, and attached to its back in between its wings was a long red tail ended in a black scythe like stinger. The robot face was handsome yet terrifying, young yet adult…His eyes were not yet opened and his face, covered by a red mask like structure that left only his white chin and lips bare, was free of expression. He had curved, demonic looking brow ridges and a pointed head crest for a crown, and the backs of each wing claw bore a purple insect face insignia…The banner of the Predacons! Its spark, which had become as dark as the volcanic glass below, crackled with scarlet red energy and was left open and exposed to the air, as if it were a tenant checking out the view of its new apartment. Once the mystery bot was high up enough to look down upon all creation as though he were Primus himself, only then did he open his optics, which were poison green in color and burned with what could only be described as pure malevolence and wicked intent. The newborn Predacon surveyed his surroundings for the first time with his new optics before glancing down at his own body, scrutinizing his four fingered, bestial hands as if admiring a manicure.
“Hhhmmm…Definitely transmetal…,” He spoke to himself in a voice deeper than what one would expect from such a young face as he gave his whole body a once over, “No…More like that of a transmetal 2...Huh, not bad for a living corpse, heh heh! Amazing what half an immortal spark, a quantum surge, and the amalgamated remains of two halfwits can do, its like I’m a whole new person! No…I am a whole new person, I have all their memories, from the days they came online to the very moments of their deaths. Terrorsaur, Scorponok, Rampage…They are all part of my being, my essence…But I am myself, I am them but not them…Hhhmm, how complicated. I suppose it would be more simple to understand if I just think of them as past lives and I’m the fourth and latest incarnation. Yes, that works just fine for me, now, time to set about the task of getting off this dust ball…And I think the best way to go about that would be to request an audience with the King, OHOHOHO!”
The predacon laughed manically as he took a deep breath and cried out, “Rampage Terror…Hhhm,” but then paused in thought at the memories of the humiliation he’d endured as Megatron’s pet monster on a leash, “Second thought, scratch that, Rampage isn’t me anymore, I am my own master now just as my new body and powers are mine to use as I see fit, I must fashion a name for myself…But what?”
The predacon looked down upon the unnatural coloration of his blackened spark, still beating loudly in exposure to the air outside.
“So tainted, so polluted, so dark…Dark…Yes…DarkSpark, that shall do ever so nicely,” He grinned to himself, revealing row after row of jagged purplish teeth before yelling out, “DarkSpark, TERRORIZE!!”
And with that, the reincarnated predacon transformed into a transmetal 2 pterodactyl/scorpion fuzor and took off into the distance, without so much as a parting glance to his former home and place of rebirth. Meanwhile, all across the continent, stasis pods that had been inactive until now were being activated, the massive release of energy caused by the birth of DarkSpark waking the protoforms from their slumber. Multiple DNA scanners emerged from their individual stasis pods and set about the task of selecting beast forms for their pods’ occupants. The pods farthest from the blast site seemed the least affected, activating without any technical difficulties, whereas pods that had been forced to withstand the full brunt of DarkSpark’s “wake up call” were sparking , sputtering, and making noises that suggested not all was well with their internal systems. Flashing lights and warning signals displayed on the pods’ computers indicated such warnings as DNA scan malfunctions, loss of protoform Maximal programming, and damage to protoform memory circuits. As the protoforms fought for their lives before even becoming aware of their own existence, back at the bottom of the sea where all this trouble had started, another player was entering the game. He lay sprawled across the massive deck of the sunken Decepticon warship Nemesis, shattered glass, broken machinery, and various forms of ocean life his only companions. At first glance the massive transformer seemed quite dead, covered in sea weed and barnacles and not so much as batting an optic…That is until his massive monocle-like left optic sprang to life and projected a long straight beam of bright red light to search the water flooded room for an enemy he had apparently expected to see before him.
As the second, normal optic came online the once sleeping giant bared his razor sharp, transmetal 2 teeth and snarled angrily, “I live…but so does he…”
The End…Or just the Beginning?
Well, I hope chpt 1 was to your liking everyone and I hope you like it enough for me to go ahead and write a chpt 2, lol. Feel free to leave your comments on it so I'll know what I did right and what went horribly wrong so I can improve my writing for next time, lol. I would like to thank my good friend Jagna, who helped me a great deal during the developmental process of this chpt as well as in regards to planning ahead for chpt 2 and onwards....Anywho, Today's my birthday so don't be too hard on me if you didn't like the story guys, LOL XD! Well, I gotta go prepare for chpt 2 so, as a great bot once said "Autobots, Transform and Roll out!" Yep, I'm a geek and proud of it,
You know what I mean...
....Yeah, that would be DarkSpark, reincarnation of Rampage folks, don't mind him, he gets cranky when he hasn't killed anyone in a hour or two...heh heh...runs to his computer to get back to work as fast as possible, lol