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Magmatron

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Disclaimer:

 

 

These are the stories as I see fit and told on my shelves. They may intersect with provided fiction in fact presented through current medias. However they are my stories from my shelves and shouldn’t be confused with anything else.

 

 

 

 

Beast Wars Neo

 

Magmatron

 

 

 

They will burn no more.

 

From time beyond any recollection they were there. It was believed they were built by invaders called the Quintessons. They were only manipulated then. It could be they are as old as Cybertron itself.

 

These origins may never be known. All that is known, is that they will burn no more. These foundries and factories where the Autobots and Decepticons as well as their predecessors where built and poured are now things of the past. Outdated, done. This is a new age, a momentous step in evolution…

 

This is the time of the Predacons!

 

The Static Chambers that charged the generations of Cybertron past have been refined. We have Sparks now. Spring, piston and plates, are now more fluid and versatile. The armored hides are now more permeable and adaptive while sacrificing nothing in durability.

 

It seems endless. The amount of battered once mighty Decepticons who file into the reformatting stations. They may have given up the fight, but it is undeniable that the still have the spirit.

 

Before the treaties, before the wars, before the Golden Age, before the Quints, that warrior spirit has been the legacy of the ‘Cons. It is a legacy I choose to honor.

 

Still, they come. Beaten and bewildered, their servos locked from rust and dent. These are battle scars to be proud of. However they will not due, not in my age.

 

They will be given new bodies. They will be remade more efficient, more flexible. The days of the lumbering giants are over, they will be diminished is size, but never in stature. I will see to that. I will not let their legacies fall to waste via a treaty.

 

Even still, as they join the new era, I can’t let go of the fact that they are not pure Predacon. I can not let go of the fact that even after reformatting, they are still relics of the old inside. .

 

I am pure. I am not a recycled has been. I have never known the hum of the Laser Core in my systems. I was built fresh. An unbreakable skeleton grafted with the finest protoform material. I am the pinnacle of the new age. My spark is so far beyond all others that I have mastery of the skies, land, and depths below all at once. I was built to stand dominant among the Predicons as a symbol of strength as we contend to deal with the Maximals and their counsels.

 

I am perfection, I am Magmatron.

 

I am not the first pure Predacon. Buy no means also shall I be the last. I was manufactured however under very strict guidelines handed down directly from The Tripredicus Counsel. I was to be made as a figure head for the Predacons. I was to be one they could cheer and champion as the diplomatic doings of this day would not hold the interest of the masses.

 

They needed a figure head. Someone who showed true power. They needed someone to idolize in a fear that with out such a pioneer, order would break down, and satiated chaos and rebellion would remerge. Now was not the time for that.

 

I was forged to lead them. My destiny before my very existence. When my parts where rudimentary in diagram, when the static that would make my spark was being refined, I was already determined to rule. I was let from my formation chamber already knowing. I was programmed with a militaristic regality. Endless data tracks of history, tradition, combat, and policy ran rampant through my systems. I had no lack of aggression, but it was quelled by a diplomatic manner.

 

I was brought into this world with a will of my own, however chained with a purpose. I would have this no other way, as I was built to rule.

 

This is how the highest court of the Predacons explained my existence at least. A life upon a pedestal for all to look at and admire.

 

NO!

 

I fully understood the need to keep the current peace. For so many Decepticons the Predicon reformatting was the only way to seek amnesty from war crimes during The Great Wars. Civil unrest would turn an already tight grip over us from the Autobots and Maximals into a stranglehold.

 

I recall the moment of my unveiling to the masses. Many Predacons gathered. Hopeful that their distain for the current lot they held would be lifted, that they would have a true leader who would fight for them amidst the persecution they were subject to.

 

Horns blared, as Flyers crossed the skyways of Darkmount. I stepped forward, proudly adorning regal attire beneath the massive Decepticon emblem that topped the spire. A raise of my hand signaled laser projectors to cover the insignia with that of the Predacons.

 

This was my moment. My clawed fingertips clutched the railing of the balcony. An elite guardian stood to my right and my left. In the corners of the platform my makers and members of the most esteemed Decepticon Houses now reborn Predacon began applauds that where soon drown out by distained boos and jeers.

 

Objects where tossed at the platform, small weapons fire erupted. I and my court where ushered inside the hall of Darkmount by our guards, as Predacon police took over the crowd.

 

The event was an embarrassment, it was broadcast. Surely the Maximals in there debates would taunt and use the footage for some time to enforce their ways even further across Cybertron as well as the territorial expanses. We were doing nothing more then dooming ourselves.

 

I needed to know why. Why was my majesty frowned upon?

 

Why was my might scoffed at?

 

How could I fix the situation?

 

Several deca-cycles passed since then. I stayed refined to my chambers hoping to drown the sting of the event in my studies. The history of the ‘Cons was always a fascination of mine. So much to tell, but so little know.

 

Was it possible that within the data tracks I scrolled through an answer to the Predacon unrest could be found?

 

I studied the history of The Houses of Cybertron. I learned the legend Vector Sigma. I learned of the persecution of the guardian robots. I learned so very much more, none of which gave my light in my dilemma.

 

I wasn’t alone in this. I was after all royalty of sorts, and had my aids. A reliable group who played the rolls of both servants and guardians. They kept a distance, I believe they feared upsetting me. It was discouraging to know that I was somewhat of an outcast even from my own charges.

 

It was in them though that a solution began to form in my mind. I had no intention of ease dropping, but my sensors couldn’t resist a conversation between two of my guard outside my chamber.

 

It would seem Guiledart and Sling where not pleased with their unit captain.

 

I listened closer…

 

Although Killerpunch, was an excellent warrior, they resented him being appointed which caused their former caption Bazooka to stand down. They continued that the respected Bazooka because he earned his right to lead, and they followed him gladly. Killerpunch on the other hand did nothing to earn that type of respect.

 

That was the solution. If I was to lead the Predicons, I had to earn the right too.

 

I knew the Tripredicus Counsel was currently busy in other affairs. They had nearly written me off as a failure, and where trying to devise a new use for me. I however would beat them to the quick.

 

I contacted the Counsel and told them I was to take a lead in Predicon enforcement operations. I would not lead from the shadows of high places but from the front lines like the Decepticon leaders of the past.

 

They refused stating that the technology that went into my development was to important to potentially loose in the current street squabbles.

 

I enforced my decision by telling them that no self respecting Predacon would follow me merely because they were told to. I needed to make my presence as well as my might known.

 

The Counsel conceded and with my guard as my crew, we began our field work. Initial deployments were laughable, simple arguments that needed to be silenced. We escalated our efforts as I had my crew delve deep into the underworld of Cybertron. On several occasions we even worked with the Maximal Guard.

 

I have to say, it did not rest well with me working in unison with them. The operations where a good faith measure between the two factions, however I could not escape a sense of resentment emanating from them.

 

The Counsel grew pleased with my progress, I was proving very useful in fostering relations with the Maximals, and giving good credit to their names. The Predacons were growing to fear me. Not as a leader, but as an oppressor. It seems my intents were going sour.

 

A deployment order came one day. My crew and I were to assist the Maximals in weeding out a vagabond bunch on the outskirts of Kaon. I knew the Maximal commandeer. A freelancer from the House of Convoy. Although he claimed independence, prestige followed him where ever he went. That prestige was confirmed when I spotted a hidden broadcast unit as I scouted the skies.

 

Our sortie was deployed. It did not seem to matter to either of us that we were being watched, at which point I wondered if he knew?

 

No matter, our task was to apprehend and break up a growing tribe of bandits. It was a task we were both eager to begin. We landed expecting an immediate fire fight, however all seemed silent.

 

We walked in caution as I again took to the skies. There seemed to be no threat. Eventualy I found a small pack of bots who looked ready to stand their ground. We made our way to them. Dropping from the air I completed my robot mode ready for combat.

 

The gathering we encountered had a massive amount of determination, but little else. I stood down from my battle mode, however the Maximal beside me did not.

 

His weapons were gargantuan and he readily released them into the crowd. As they scattered I saw what they were defending. It was a small save of energon. Not even enough to power the gathering let alone the bots who I could see hiding in in the worn buildings surrounding us.

 

These bots were powerless. They were stealing for survival, not malice. I looked over at the Maximal who was relentless in his assault. He had one bot pinned to the ground and was ready to thrash him.

 

It was then I acted on behalf of this one and all Predacons. I drew my sword, it’s forged blade jagged. I held back none of my power as I thrust it through his shoulder servo, and forced the handle down. I left him with a tangled mess of scrap where his arm once was, his former appendage now mine.

 

He held is sparking injury and stared up at me in disbelief, cursing my Predacon right, labeling me a traitor . I scoffed at him and pronounced to all the dwellers there that they need not fear persecution. I promised them their counsels would not forget about them in their times of need.

 

The Maximal continued to spit words of scorn at me, at which point I assured him we would be better off with Predacon Pride over Maximal Honor. I made sure my back was to the broadcasters as I departed the scene. They did excellent work capturing the belittled outcasts following me in hope and pride.

 

It was hardly a megacycle after that before I was escorted via armed guard before the Tripredicus Counsel. I had no regrets for my actions, and would face martyrdom with pride. The hall was dark. I could scarily see the chamber members. They spoke clearly with stern tones questioning and begrudging my actions.

 

I held true.

 

They confronted me with the immediate arbitrations of the very unsympathetic Maximals, and cursed my promise to the Predacon masses.

 

I held true.

 

They demanded I apologized to the House of Convoy for my actions.

 

I refused.

 

When they exhausted their processors I finally spoke. I declared that they constructed me to lead the Predacons. I reminded them that the entire reason I was entering field work was to earn their trust in that position. I enlightened them to the situation of our people who where not privileged enough to sit in lofty towers. I asked what type of leader would I be if I stood by idly as a Maximal thrashed the meekest of us?

 

I assured them that I knew of the promise I made and was going to honor it. I reminded them that I was a new construct, I had no allegiance to any particular house, therefore could not sit in the debate chambers. I demanded they show their resolve to the people and in spite of Cybertronian tradition, and in spite of the Maximals, they should appoint me a chair anyway.

 

I would handle my pledge on my own. I would do so within the system. I would prove to everyone that we were more then just the relics of war mongers. I would bring new meaning to Predacon Pride!

 

The Counsel was not pleased with being ordered. I still knew my heads were at risk, however, fate deemed them to concede. My time was nigh.

 

Or so I would believe…

 

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