Transformers: Mobian Chronicles Transformers: Mobian Chronicles (Arc 3: Orion's Journey)

TMC 3-15

Journey’s log. Mobius date: March 22, 4017. Stardate: 1622159.78. I’ve recovered from Blackarachnia’s dose of Cyber-venom, nasty stuff, and have proceeded to leave the continent of Chun-nan. I decided to head to the continent of Spagonia. As I headed towards my destination, I noticed that the place was desert-like, with very few trees, much like the savanna of…of…oh, Primus below! I’m in Mazuri! Africa! I’ve missed my mark again! Still, it’s a magic hotspot, so, let’s check it out. I arrived at a village with the center marked by a tree taller than my robot mode. I could easily climb it. I approached the entrance arch when a Mobian Black Rhino charged at me. I transformed and landed behind him. “FILTHY MACHINE!” roared the rhino.

“To think I thought herbivores were peaceful!” I gulped as the rhino charged. I dodged again, but the rhino turned on a dime and managed to gouge my foot. I started hopping around in pain. The rhino readied for another charge when an old human got in his way.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” bellowed the man. “Let him in, Abeeku.”

“Elder Gwek, you can’t be serious!” snarled the rhino. “That’s a machine!”

“A machine that thinks for itself and understands life!” argued Elder Gwek. “I’ve been expecting him as he needs my assistance. Now, stop antagonizing our guest! You cannot blame all machines for the death of your father!”

“You cannot change my heart so easily, human!” roared Abeeku. From what I observed, addressing someone by their species instead of their name is a grave insult on Mobius. He stormed off and left us while I patched my foot.

“I do apologize for Abeeku,” sighed Gwek. “His father was killed by Eggman’s machines.”

“Eesh, sorry to hear that,” I winced. “Anyways, you said you were expecting me?”

“Takeshi told me you were on a journey to restore your magic,” replied Gwek.

“You spoke with someone from an island chain from Chun-nan?” I quizzed.

“Through a more…magical way,” answered Gwek.

“So, you can help me?” I inquired.

“I can try,” remarked Gwek. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m having trouble syncing up with the artefacts that are the source of my magic,” I explained.

“Let me see them,” said Gwek. I laid down my weapons and the Matrix near him. He walked around and inspected them. “Hm, interesting,” mused Gwek. “I can feel other people in them.”

“The Matrix holds the wisdom of the Primes before me,” I explained. “My weapons were forged in a terrible ritual involving living Cybertronians.”

“Oh dear,” sighed Gwek. He then started chanting something. Must be a spiritual magic user. After his ritual, he turned to me. “I’m sorry, my friend,” he said. “I cannot seem to communicate with the spirits inside these artefacts. Were I younger, we might have had something. Why, in my younger years I would have issued one chant to single-handedly take down an entire army and race across the desert in 2 minutes!” That…seemed like…embellishment.

“Er…is there anyone else to talk to?” I asked.

“I’m afraid not,” replied Gwek. “At least, none that are properly trained. My time as the Elder and Supreme Spiritualist is coming to an end. No one has yet been trained in the latter title and my right-hand man, Kwami, needs more training to take my place as Village Elder.”

“Oh well, thank you anyways,” I sighed. I turned to leave, but someone threw a net on me! The assailant was on me as I struggled to get out of the net. I then felt pinpricks on my chassis. The assailant was trying to probe me for a chink in my armor! I then swung an elbow and the attacker shouted “OW!” It got off me and I managed to break the web. I had to get some of the beastly stuff out of my eyes. When my vision was restored, Blackarachnia was removing damaged dental-plates and making new ones. Yeah, we Cybertronians are like sharks in that regard. We can make new “teeth” to use human expressions. We just do it in a matter of seconds after we remove our old ones.

“You’ll pay for that!” snapped Blackarachnia as she threw her old dental plates to the ground. “I mean it! Dental Plate care’s expensive!”

“I thought your holo-form was a Black Widow!” I snapped. “Ogre Faced Spiders do the net thing!”

“Oh, well, see, I take the abilities from ALL spiders!” answered Blackarachnia. She then pounced on me and was about to expose my neck to her fangs, but I delivered a blow to her optics. “You WOULD strike a lady!” she cried.

“You’ve attacked me,” I argued. “Gender is right out the window!” I then grabbed her arm. “Time to take this fight outside the village!” I flung her out of the village and we dueled in the desert. I got into my usual ready stance, resulting in her laughing.

“I’m the only one with claws here!” she joked. She got into a stance and flexed her claws.

“Oh boy,” I gulped as I remembered my weaker state. Blackarachnia then charged as I adopted a new stance. Her claws flashed as they raked my face. She raised her arm for another attempt, but I drove my forehead into hers, rendering her dizzy. As I charged, she regained her vision and threw a web at my eyes like Spider-Man. “COME ON! AGAIN?! THAT’S CHEATING!” I protested.

“I don’t see any wrestling ropes,” observed Blackarachnia. I got the beastly stuff off my eyes again. “I hope, now, you’ll believe me when I say I only want to talk.”

“After attacking me?!” I snapped. “There’s nothing to talk about!”

“I respectfully disagree,” argued Blackarachnia. “You see, the issue here is patriotism.” I was confused. “You know the old films. Head on back to Cybertron and put an end to the Decepti-Huns. All you need are a few good Bots.”

“What? That nonsense is at least two thousand Earth years behind us!” I countered.

“But, you can’t deny that you Autobots are as warlike as us,” hissed Blackarachnia.

“I DO deny it!” I proclaimed. “We may have held such ideals during the Great War…”

“At which time, you slaughtered millions of us,” interrupted Blackarachnia. “And reconstruction put us in hovels! Since then, there are no indications of improvement for the losers or the so-called ‘mercy’ you Autobots claim is a common value!”

“But, even so,” I argued, “even during that dark time, we’ve begun to make rapid progress!”

“Oh yeah?” remarked Blackarachnia as she took out a knife. “You want to review your ‘rapid progress’? Let’s look at a scene a thousand years ago!” She pressed a button on the handle and a horrible scene played in front of me. It was a scene of the poorer sections of Cybertron, populated by robots who showed the telltale signs of destitution on their chassis’. They were called the Empties by society. Fuel was hard to come by in those areas and spare parts even harder. “Look at them,” directed Blackarachnia, “look for some telltale signs of war.” It was then that I saw the Decepticon symbol on some of the poor wrecks. They looked like they had chemical alterations done to them. “Rapid progress,” scoffed Blackarachnia, “to the point where you bots tried to control us with drugs.” The scene vanished, and we were back in Mazuri. “And then,” continued Blackarachnia, “on finally getting us on our feet, you personally ran off after a law-breaker and got the charges cleared in a night while it takes us days to clear charges! And then, you exposed us to this rock’s natives! Now, here you are, repeating the same old story, doing the wrong thing when things don’t go your way!”

“No, that is not true!” I insisted. “The same old story is what I’m seeing right now! A being who confronts others, not to learn, but to judge, to prosecute, to perpetuate the problem!”

“You clearly have no idea what’s at stake here,” hissed Blackarachnia. “Suppose it turns out I know you too well?”

“I have no fear about what the facts reveal about me,” I proclaimed.

“The facts about you?” cheered Blackarachnia. “You’re a fountain of good ideas! There are preparations to make. But, when we meet in Spagonia, it will be exactly as you suggest.” She turned around. “Blackarachnia, TRANSFORM!” Her front swung upwards as her arms went underneath to make a car front with a spider fang motif. Her legs folded and tucked into her rear to make the trunk of the car and legs came out, pointing themselves forward and back. Her holo-form came up as a Mobian Black Widow. Mobian Spiders have a humanoid body structure with four extra spider legs and the telltale large butts. Her holo-form then entered her vehicle mode by way of a hatch opening like my cockpit as Optimus. “Ta-ta!” bid Blackarachnia as she sped off. As she vanished in the distance, my hand twitched and sparked. I transformed, having been in robot mode for too long.

“All right,” I declared, “Spagonia, it is. Just need to get my nav-computers straightened out.” I then sped off to find one of the northern Mazuri cities.

The Holo-Droid had terminated a call from the command center. Teletraan 1’s avatar appeared on the screen. “I’m not too sure that’s a good idea, sir,” he stammered.

“I know it’s a bit extreme, but…” assured the Holo-Droid. It was interrupted by an angry Jazz.

“HEY! FAKIMUS PRIME!” he shouted. The “Black” accent was dropped. He sounded more like Worf.

“Hey, Jazz!” called the Holo-Droid. “You know, calling me a fake Prime is kind of rude and…”

“Yeah, it’s rude, as is my interruption,” conceded Jazz, still sounding like Worf. “Do you know what’s ruder? Shoving your hand into someone’s chassis and threatening to offline them!”

“Er, I’m not sure…” stammered the Holo-Droid.

“You’ve adopted my best friend’s tell whenever he lies,” interjected Jazz. “Your dental plates get exposed and you look all over the place! You said that Bumblebee’s crystal mail was destabilizing his Spark and you were giving the same tell that time!”

“And, let me guess,” sighed the Holo-Droid, dropping the act, “you got the real story from Bumblebee, whozzzz manner of zzzzpech zzzzoundzzzz like thizzzz when he liezzzz.”

“Have you got a screw loose?!” wailed Jazz. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” remarked the Holo-Droid. “You get irritated whenever Bumblebee makes a short rant.”

“The rants ARE annoying,” replied Jazz, “but that’s no cause to hurt people!”

“And I don’t WANT to hurt him,” assured the Holo-Droid, “he just needed to get the message that he was getting on everyone’s nerves.”

“You could have KILLED him with that stunt!” shouted Teletraan 1. The Holo-Droid’s face went sour. It turned to the large screen.

“As you can see from the cameras in the med-bay, he’s still alive and is making a full recovery,” it dismissed. “What, pray tell, is your point?”

“You’re malfunctioning!” snapped Teletraan 1. “You’ve been online for too long and the acids in your batteries are leaking into your CPU!”

“Guys, there’s nothing wrong with me,” argued the Holo-Droid.

“Oh yes, there is!” hissed Teletraan 1.

“I have asked all Autobots and they agreed to have the Crisis Act invoked!” continued Jazz. “You’re relieved of command as Ratchet, Tails, and Teletraan give you the once-over to figure out what’s wrong with you!”

“And if I refuse to go along with this, what are YOU going to do?” asked the Holo-Droid.

“Emergency Shut-down Procedure 2: Armed and Engaged!” announced Teletraan 1. There was a silence for a few seconds. “That…should have…shut it down…” stammered Teletraan 1.

“Had it deleted a while ago,” explained the Holo-Droid. The sound of a Photon Rifle being primed filled the room and the Holo-Droid stared down the barrel of said weapon in Jazz’s hands. “Jazz, don’t embarrass yourself,” sighed the Holo-Droid. Jazz fired his weapon one handed. Given that it had no recoil, it was easy to do. He fired again and again and again, to no avail. The shots were simply absorbed. Jazz’s weapon then beeped that it was out of juice.

“All right, then,” declared Jazz as he holstered the weapon and took out his cyber key. The Holo-Droid then slammed its hand into Jazz’s body and threw him back. As Jazz sprawled, the Holo-Droid dusted its hands off.

“Jazz, don’t get in my way again,” it muttered. “It would be a shame if I had to disrupt your vocal processors. How would you sing again?” The Holo-Droid commed Ratchet again. “Ratchet, we had a weapons misfire from Jazz’s Photon Rifle! Jazz was hit! He needs help!”

“On my way, sadist!” hissed Ratchet.

“…Just get Jazz patched up,” sighed the Holo-Droid. It then retreated to Optimus’ office.

Amy was patrolling a dark forest. Cream had told her that there was something living there that scared her and was the size of the Autobots. Amy took up her Scarlet Specter persona and started looking. The forest choked out any light. “Lux fiat,” said Amy as she made a small orb of light. She soon saw the reason why light wasn’t coming into the forest. Large webs of spider silk choked out the treetops. “A spider colony, great,” muttered Amy.

“Come into my parlor,” purred a voice.

“And I just wandered into a spider trap!” cried Amy. She then noticed something in the web. “Wait, since when did spiders dye their webs blue?” She was then bitten, and something was pumped into her. She passed out in a few seconds. When she regained her vision, she tried to move, only to realize she was cocooned in spider silk and gagged.

“Don’t bother,” assured the purring voice. A Mobian Black Widow stepped out of the shadows. “There’s no escape, pinky,” she purred. “I need you. You see this?” She gestured to a machine. “Impressive, no?” Amy looked at the machine, then shrugged in her cocoon. “And, why, pray tell, are you shrugging?” asked the spider. Amy spoke, still gagged. The spider rolled her eyes, then removed the gag.

“I’ve seen that machine before,” explained Amy.

“You have not!” protested the spider.

“Oh, yes, I have!” answered Amy.

“You’ve seen a mincer of this caliber before?” quizzed the spider. “You know? The things we use to chop up our prey?”

“One, if you WERE a Mobian Spider,” countered Amy, “you would know that cannibalism, especially sexual cannibalism, was long abandoned by species that may have practiced it before their evolution! Two, I’ve seen that machine used to turn a large amount of blue crystal into pink liquid in a cube container! Three, I see the Decepticon symbol on your choker! You’re not native to this planet! Are you the stowaway from the Ark?!”

“The Ark?” scoffed the spider. “He seriously named it that?”

“Well, are you?!” insisted Amy.

“Blackarachnia, stop making the poor girl panic!” boomed an alto voice. Trema, in her Mobian disguise, then came into view. “Amy’s on our side,” she assured.

“Her?!” protested Blackarachnia. “She’s barely up to my ankle! What can she do?!”

“You’d be surprised at what she can do,” remarked Trema. “Now, will you let her go?” Blackarachnia rolled her eyes and sprayed a green gas. The web surrounding Amy turned into powder and she landed on her feet.

“If you can prove your strength, I’ll consider you an ally,” sighed Blackarachnia.

“What kind of proof…?” Amy stopped when a noise came from the cave entrance. “Guys…”

“I hear it too,” replied Trema.

“Spiders?” asked Blackarachnia.

“No, their speech is softer,” answered Amy. “That’s the Scorpion language.”

“Please tell me you understand them,” gulped Trema.

“Mobians can speak up to five languages, aside from English,” explained Amy. “Scorpion is one of the ones I speak. That’s one of the Imperia Scorpion dialects, belonging to the Arizona Hairy Scorpion.” Three aforementioned Scorpions then came in. Much like the other Mobian animals, Mobian Scorpions have a humanoid body shape with five fingers. Their natural armor is the toughest to break. Their tails are wrapped around their waists when not in combat. A large male surveyed the cave and its occupants. A large female bared her teeth. A smaller male folded his arms and licked his teeth. The large male spoke in his native language. Amy bristled, then spoke in the Scorpion’s language. The other Scorpions chuckled.

“You swear well, Hedgehog,” remarked the large male. “It’s a pity you have hair. You would have made a fine warrior.”

“She’s warrior enough!” hissed Trema.

“I have no proof of that,” dismissed the Scorpion.

“Careful,” warned Amy. “Scorpions can use their claws and tails as wrecking balls.”

“If I recall,” mused Blackarachnia, “Scorpions have venom in their tails.”

“You dare call yourselves warriors?” hissed Trema. “You poison and talk and posture but have no TRUE courage or honor! The title of warrior is misplaced on you, your ancestors, and your children!”

“TREMA!” yelped Amy.

“Bad move?” guessed Blackarachnia. The large female and smaller male snarled. The large male stepped slowly to Trema.

“What did you say?” he asked in a dangerous tone.

“I said Scorpions of all generations are cowards!” growled Trema.

“That’s what I thought you said,” rumbled the large male. His fingers then turned into the telltale claws that mark the scorpion and smashed into her ribs with them while giving a roar. The large female and smaller male turned their hands into claws and all Scorpions raised their tails. Trema then summoned long, arm mounted swords while Blackarachnia raised herself on her spider legs and Amy summoned her hammer. The two sides charged at each other and battle was joined. Blackarachnia was taking on the large female and Amy took on the small male. Amy’s hammer was slammed into her opponent’s side, pinning him into the wall. The tail flailed wildly to try and sting her, but it didn’t reach her. Blackarachnia stayed above her opponent while she took a few stalactites from the ceiling and threw them at her. The female’s tail was then thrust upwards, but Blackarachnia dodged and caught it under the main stinger.

“Look out!” warned Blackarachnia to Amy. Amy got out of the way as the large female was tossed into the smaller male.

“WATCH IT, MOTHER!” he roared.

“YOU WATCH IT!” shouted the large female. Trema’s blades kept the stinger and claws of her opponent at bay. Soon, the large male made a mistake. He raised his arms to smash his claws down onto Trema’s head, leaving him open to her blades. A Mobian Scorpion’s natural armor is one of the toughest materials around. No blade on Mobius could pierce it, only bullets and laser blasts. Trema and her swords, an individual blade named the Ban’graza, meaning “Honored Metal”, are NOT from Mobius. Her left Ban’graza deliberately missed vital organs as it pierced the large male’s armor. Battle was halted as the noise of a blade piercing armor rang throughout the cave. Even Trema’s allies were surprised.

“FATHER!” cried the small male. Both Scorpions ran towards the large male.

“You…stabbed me!” he winced as he was being picked up.

“Don’t be such a baby,” dismissed Trema. “I could have aimed for a vital organ.”

“No sword on this planet has stabbed a Scorpion!” snarled the large male.

“My weapons and I aren’t from this planet,” replied Trema, “and neither is the spider.” The Scorpions arched an eyebrow. “Est verum forma,” chanted Trema. She leapt out of the cave and grew into her real form and Blackarachnia’s vehicle mode rolled out as her holo-form disappeared. She then transformed, making her way out of the cave. Trema and Blackarachnia then towered over everyone. “What is your name?” asked Trema.

“I am Rex, son of Alex!” replied the large male Scorpion as his family patched his wound.

“I am Trema Xarthanax of Nebulos, mother of Galan, Witch of the Green Order,” introduced Trema.

“Well, Trema Xarthanax of Nebulos, mother of Galan, Witch of the Green Order, know this!” hissed Rex. “You have forced a Scorpion to molt! You have forced me to shed my armor and be weak! This is an insult a Scorpion will neither forgive nor forget!” He then spoke in the Scorpion language to his family and they took off. The three girls then caught their breath.

“That could have gone better,” sighed Trema.

“I always assumed you were a Mobian Rabbit,” replied Blackarachnia. “My mistake.” She then placed her hand over her spark. “By the rings, asteroid, and twin moons of Nebulos, I honor and greet you.”

“By the twin moons of Cybertron, I honor and greet you,” returned Trema.

“Is…that a greeting?” asked Amy.

“Formal Nebulan greeting,” explained Trema. “I’m surprised I didn’t teach you that.”

“You were busy in helping Sira teach me magic,” replied Amy.

“You’re a witch too?!” yelped Blackarachnia. “Is everyone on this planet magically inclined?! On Cybertron, it’s just a few of us!”

“The proportions of magically inclined to those that aren’t are the same as that on Cybertron,” answered Trema. “Mobius just has more people than you do. In any case, I believe Ms. Rose here has proved herself.” Blackarachnia sighed. She couldn’t come up with a good argument.

“All right, fine,” she conceded. “There IS more to her than meets the eye. I’m sorry for treating you like spider food.”

“Accepted,” replied Amy.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta harass Orion in Spagonia,” answered Blackarachnia as she transformed. She then sped off through a Ground Bridge. As the vortex closed, Amy started thinking on what she said.

“Is she supposed to do that?” she asked Trema.

“Someone was supposed to,” replied Trema. “If she can get Orion to his final stop, then this whole thing will result in a more powerful Prime.”

“I hope so,” sighed Amy. “Because, if it doesn’t, Shockwave and Metal Sonic will go through with who knows what.”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *