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

TMC 3-18

Journey’s log. Supplemental. Sira had just dropped the mother of absurdities on me! “Turning…evil?” I repeated. “…No, I’m not!”

“You most certainly are!” replied Sira. “I’ve seen this happen numerous times. You’re arrogant, power-hungry, and so deluded, you can’t even see it! You don’t value another’s opinions and your selfishness and ego are getting to a point where you won’t see anyone but yourself, not even your loved ones.”

“This is absurd!” I snapped as I got up. “You’re probably not even a real Witch! This whole thing must have been…”

“SILENCE!” roared Sira as she got up. She did the whole scary Gandalf convincing Bilbo to give up the Ring thing as the area went dark. “It is NOT wise to argue with a Mage of any Order, for we have little patience and a LOT of power!” she continued in a booming voice. She then took a deep breath and the area went back to its old lighting. “And it’s power that’s the issue here,” she sighed in her usual voice. “Magic IS a power, but so many people view it as a path to gaining MORE power! Domination over others! Massacre and murder! Just being wicked in general! Magic, on the other hand, is a fickle thing. It CAN’T be used in that manner. Hell, it doesn’t WANT to!”

“Doesn’t want to? What do you mean?” I asked.

“Magic is alive, in a sense,” explained Sira. “Mages ranging from a simple Parlor Magician to ones of our caliber have existed since the dawn of the universe. Tell me, how many history books on Cybertron alone did you crack open and discover that the Great Evil Wing, the Black Steeled Wizard of Ultimate Badness, had made the world his dominion, or some such nonsense like that?”

“I…er…I guess I…haven’t…thought about it…” I stammered.

“That’s because you’ve been focused on YOUR problems!” answered Sira. “Magic is a living thing tied to a mage’s essence, their very soul! It wants to be used to defend, to help, to heal. It flat-out refuses to be used to actively or passively hurt someone! The soul, the very thing that powers magic, knows the difference between right and wrong, even if the mind is too clouded to tell.”

“That didn’t seem to stop Aaron earlier in his life!” I argued. Sira sighed.

“My former student was old when Mobian society was young,” she replied. I was surprised to hear she taught Aaron magic, but thought it best not to go on that tangent. Sira wasn’t in any mood for it. “His power was beyond anything any mage has seen before or since. My point is this: it’s extremely rare for someone to break the rules like that. The accounts I’ve heard on that subject, I could count them on one finger.”

“But, what about curses?! Dark magic?!” I snapped. “Primus shield me from lying, my weapons were forged in a terrible ritual!”

“When something like that happens,” explained Sira, “the people performing it are granted magic from another world that could allow them to break the rules like that. A dark, demonic world that can’t exist in our plane of reality. A god or demon makes a bargain with some poor sap, conveniently ‘forgetting’ about mentioning a price until it’s too late.”

“So, what, you’re telling me that my connection to magic went kaput,” I quizzed, “because my Spark knew I became a bad guy?!”

“No,” answered Sira. “It hadn’t happened yet. Someone decided to speed up the process before it got that far.”

“Who?” I asked. Sira then waved her hand over my weapons and the Matrix. “You mean, the Primes, Pacemaker, and Blade Dancer did this?”

“They’re worried about you, worried about what you might become,” sighed Sira.

“I am not turning evil!” I insisted.

“Oh, really?!” argued Sira. “How many times did you use your power selfishly?!” I was about to say never, then a memory played out. It was when we found Fwuffy on the Ark.

“Optimus, I really must protest keeping the Poozit with us!” – Prowl.

“Who’s Prime?” – Me.

“How many times did you lash out at and threaten unreasonably?!” asked Sira. Another memory played. It was before I spoke with Aaron last.

“Those things? I thought they were for public use, so I took the prototype for a joyride. I always wondered why Commander Tower said I’ve ruined it for you guys. I guess they’re under lock and key now.” – Vector.


“Orion!” – Ironhide.

“How many times did you put your problems above others?!” inquired Sira. My last conversation with Aaron played out.

“What else could you want from me?! You’ve taken my freedom, my magic, my sanity, my beard trimming schedule, and my usual hygienic routine!” – Aaron.

“Yeah, life’s tough all over. I need some information.” – Me.

“And how many times did you assume that your solutions were the right ones?! That your answers were the only ones?!” hissed Sira. The conversation the day before my departure played out.

“Kiddo, I really think you should…!” – Ironhide.

“Ironhide, I get that you’re worried about me, but this needs to be done. Someone, somewhere on this planet, can help me fix my magic and I need to find that someone before things get really bad.” – Me.

“Do you ignore another’s suffering?!” quizzed Sira. My last bout with Blackarachnia last night played out.

“All they do is talk and talk and talk and never get anything done!” – Blackarachnia.

“No, the Council DID get things done!” – Me.

“Did the image the Chrono-knife showed us last time mean nothing?!” – Blackarachnia.

“Or are you just off in your own little world when people are trying to get you to listen for five damned minutes?!” snapped Sira. My christening of the ship then played out.

“Yeah, but the reason people voted for Watchful was because they didn’t want to call it a name like the space colony.” – Ratchet.

 “Yes, but, it’s not their ship now, is it?!” – Me.

“Our actions and thoughts shape who we are,” finished Sira. “Believe me when I say, yours are NOT shaping up to that of a hero. I suggest you stay here and reexamine your Spark, because you are going to need to help yourself.” She then turned into red mist like Amy does and flew to the main mansion, disappearing over the rose hedge maze. I sat alone, contemplating her words.

“Amy, you must understand, this is a lot to take in,” muttered Trema.

“I’m sorry, Master Trema,” insisted Amy, “but this isn’t up for debate! The Holo-Droid’s lost it! It nearly killed Bumblebee! It’s contacting Cybertron a lot to request military hardware!”

“But my access to the base was revoked!” reminded Trema. “No way is the Holo-Droid going to let me pass!”

“Considering we’re trying to bring it down,” remarked Amy, “I don’t think its opinion of you matters.” Trema considered. She then sighed.

“Very well, I will help,” she sighed. “But, after that, it’s up to Orion whether or not I can visit.” There was a knock on her door. “Hide yourself, I’m expecting someone,” urged Trema.

“Abscondam,” chanted Amy. She then turned invisible.

“Mutatio Figura,” Trema cast as she went from her natural Nebulan state to her Mobian disguise. The knock returned. “Enter,” rumbled Trema. A female Warrior-hog came in, baring her teeth.

“I have come for my son’s Honor Knife!” she barked. “Hand it over, or I will take it from you!”

“Now that you are here, and I have confirmation that your son has paid his debt,” whispered Trema as she held the knife she took from the café, “I have no further need of it.” She handed the knife over.

“…You rob my son of his honor just to get my attention?!” snarled the Warrior-hog.

“You cannot take away what someone does not have,” hissed Trema.

“Are you saying my son is without honor?” asked the Warrior-hog.

“I am saying your son is a coward and a liar!” replied Trema.

“And what of his mother?!” called the Warrior-hog.

“That remains to be seen,” remarked Trema.

“…Tell me, rabbit,” instructed the Warrior-hog, “what have I done to earn your disrespect?”

“The misdeeds I have heard from my colleagues speak for themselves!” snarled Trema. “Attacking a Scorpion Model! Detaining and searching vehicles without warning or provocation! And you, executing one of your men when he refused to destroy a G.U.N. convoy!”

“Whatever we have done,” insisted the Warrior-hog, “is in the name of security and safety for our honor!”

“You must think me a fool to make your lies so clear!” snapped Trema.

“I do not wish to quarrel with one who speaks and acts like a warrior!” replied the Warrior-hog.

“Neither do I!” answered Trema. “I am sure your species DO have honor and a proud tradition, but I must know why you act this way!”

“We are acting the way we do,” explained the Warrior-hog, “because we have been hunted in the past and refuse to be so weak in the future. That is all you need know!”

“Mobians and Humans are both Apex Predators!” snapped Trema. “There is no need for you to act this way!”

“I’ve heard enough!” snarled the Warrior-hog. “I have what I came for. Pray that we don’t cross paths again!” She then left without another word.

“Damn her!” swore Trema as she cancelled the spell.

“No point in trying to change her,” sighed Amy as she cancelled her spell. “We gotta get going.”

Leave a Reply

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