The hulking shapes stood in the sewers, crouched beneath the ceiling and the man-made pillars that confined their stature, the structures never having been designed for beings such as these. The water, traversing the steely streams of the pipe network, dripped at places, small puddles reflecting the light from the burning candles much like the surface of their skin did, chrome magnificence refracting in a chaotic spectrum at the move of even the smallest digit. Metal clanked and echoed as feet moved around the brick cavern, almost obscuring the soft sobs adjoining the orchestra already created by the movements of the constructs.
Counting three, maybe four induviduals besides the crying child, a sixth had entered the maze of tunnels that made up the sewers. Their robots were not only heard, but also observed through the light shimmering from a golden disc, fashioned in the shape of an eye, displaying the scene on the surface of the water for its owner to behold, hundreds of yards away. The ends of a red cape splashed against the edges of the images the Eye showed on the rippling surface. The rippling array sent chills down the spine of the bearer of the artifact.
A metal wrapped digit, bendable at the gear-made knuckles, converted itself within the blink of an eye, unmasking a scalpel of severe proportions.
A crying child's tears mingled with the puddles of water, lining the floor.
An electric spark heated the edge of the blade until it glowed red as it sunk closer to the trembling, pink flesh.
A stifled scream, mouth being halted by a steel palm, signalled contact between surgical instrument and skin.
Red drops fell from the sides of the table the girl was strapped onto, mingling with the tears and water collecting on the concrete surface that made up the ground.
Cries of pain were joined by electronic chanting, the two cresting into a symphony of pain as intestines were emptied onto the alter.
With a wave of a hand, gloved from the fingertips to the shoulders in a black fabric, The Eye spun at an unbelievable revolution, the picture show it once had cast from its pupil disappearing as a click was heard in the stagnant air. Fingers seemed to move to the collar of the cape, making sure a golden neckpiece that wasn't there the moment before was securely attached. Thumb and forefinger pulled a red hood forward, head turning to show the intricate yellow and black design interwoven along the cusp of the cloak wrapped around the retreating body, ducking a low pipe as they traveled further into the sewers.
More images assaulted the infiltrators mind, slowly, new ones as each foot took a new step forward.
Memories of the past, before the Cataclysm. Memories of the friends, the enemies, the lovers, all the people in the life before this. The battles, mighty and great, awash in the sea of red created by the losses. Then the Cataclysm itself, and the appearance of Earth's newest inhabitants. A chronological list of events, each event playing itself out after the other. All key parts of the bearers life, leading up to this day.
The infection now needed exercising from humanities body.
The sobs grew louder, toward the left, as the form clad in black and red form, with blue highlights seen here and there, darted from shadow to shadow as the tunnels swerved.
Espionage was all smoke and mirrors, the same as the school they had graduated from. A college of the elite, few could say they have walked the same hallowed halls. Built on illusion, mystery, and faith, they were the magi and witches of old, the sorcerers and mystics of new. The College of Magick opened it's doors to only a select few. At least, until recently, it used to be selective entrance process. Now, abominations walked the same pathways as they did.
Radio transmissions created a resonance in the air as they passed overhead but not unheard, mystical bindings tuning to the frequencies as the message was unencrypted through arcane means.
"Central, scanners have something."
A grin painted the sorcerers face, ducking a little to listen in on the targets.
"Explain something." Was the curt reply, the voice hollow and manufactured.
A click, what passed for electronical swallowing, was heard. "Movement in sector 3, somewhere above us."
"That is too close. Do your job and find out what the Unicron is up there."
The smile increased as plans were made. Incantations were cast, spells of a defensive and offensive nature primed and ready to launch. Moving the shrouded head to each side, a crackle of joints could be heard as the mage physically prepared themselves as well as mentally. Not a hint of trepidation could be found in their mannerism, nothing denoting the possibility of fear at the coming sentry.
No, only joy could be seen within the stance the magus took, hands raised as psychic feelers warned of the approaching creature.
Brick and mortar rained down as six feet and seven inches of a metal alloy not produced on Earth hammered its way through the opposite wall. Inhibiting humanoid shapes and features, it was everything but blood and flesh. Made of wires and metals, the living machine standing admist the rubble of its entry twisted its arm at impossible angels, the forearm portion of it transforming into a fierce looking bladed weapon. Adjoined to its elbow, the serrated edge extended sixteen inches past the point its fingers would have.
The Mystic's plans for hand to hand combat changed slightly as the robots scanners began searching the sewer junction point.
"Over here." A voice challenged, black gloved fist forming around air that seemed to ripple, solidifying into a glowing staff of light, a circular blade attached to the end. Energy seemed to spark around the edges of its shape, glowing slightly within the darkness of the sudden subterranean battlefield. Even with the additional light, the hood obfuscated the challengers face, although a slight metallic sheen could be noticed from underneath its dark mask.
"Central, we have intruders." The mechinoids hailed, moving at the same time. The mortal below him darted as well, blade raising to match his as a shower of sparks, both mystical and electrical rained to the ground. Feinting left, then spinning right, the machine screamed as the metal casing of his shin exploded once the magi's edge found purchase.
"Deal with it!" a disembodied voice answered, emitted from the speakers attached to the constructs head.
"He's trying to." The sorcerer answered, golden blade again connecting with metal as another scream echoed the sewer tunnels. "Failing, though."
The staff twisted a hundred and eighty degrees, now raised above the mystics head. With a smile seen on the bottom half of a chin, which was all that could be seen due to the lights location, the pike came down fast, wiring and metal bursting outward as the blade sunk through any hindrance until it found purchase in the concrete beneath.
Footsteps padded through the waters tinted by oil and alien fluids, the implement of the mechas death vanishing with a wave of the mage's hand. Deeper down the rabbit whole now, again keeping to the dark heaven that was the shadows. Stairs were easily found, footsteps lightly connecting with the metal planes of support.
"Unit 04?" the same disembodied voice asked, silence his only answer as the infiltrator came closer and closer to the child and her tormentors. "04?"
Seeking to make the proper entrance, the mage let the mechinoids she now heard rather than felt call out to their fallen comrade a little longer. Fingers twisted in the air, energy trailing after them as mystical symbols burned to ashes. Levitating, a smirk pasted itself on the hidden face, red clock billowing slightly slong the edges against some magickally created wind.
"Damn it, 04, answer me!?"
"He won't be able to." An equally disembodied voice said from the corners of the room, red tendrils of cloth all that could be seen snaking out from the blackness the remaining targets were found within.
An ebony leg stepped outwards from the black, lighting against the floor softly as another followed it. A torso followed, a blue tunic with an almost V like shape embroidered across the front. Form-fitting and tight, the garment displayed the bearers ample chest nicely, a slight cut at the neck line hinting at cleavage to be found beneath. Cut short at the shoulders, the black bodysuit continued, the only skin seen the aforementioned chest and neck area. Fingers were wrapped in the same black material as her other appendages, although a collection of metal encircled her right wrist. Made of nodes of light, small circles of dials, it was an odd piece of jewelry that almost seemed to sink past the black substance making up her bodysuit. The red clock around her, hooded with an odd shoulder piece that was trimmed with the same yellow design lining the rest of the cape that scrapped against the floor she levitated upon. Her hands rose to her shrouded face, pulling the hood back, the darkness her face had been hidden in disappearing. Red locks freed themselves from the cloths confines, a strand of crimson falling over the woman's left eye as well.
It was her eyes that were the most striking, beautiful and scarred. One eye-ridge was covered the same metal as the piece of jewelry along her wrist, in the shape of a flame, appearing to burst forth from her left pupil. Gleaming, reflecting the candles as well as the magicks collecting around her balled fist, those eyes were nothing but deadly.
"Neither will you." She challenged, her form displayed and her powers ready. The energies she called on that day were great, powers ancient and long forgotten, duelling with constructs of the future. The Past waged War against the Future as the soul of a child seeped out of her body more and more with each passing second.
The child, a girl of no more then thirteen, would remember the fierce fray, the colors of power that were sent after each side; lasers against spells, blasters against fireballs. Three to one, and the child didn't know which side was winning. All she could concentrate on was the growing point of light, just beyond her field of comprehension. The girl knew there was someone there, fighting for her survival, fighting desperatly it seemed at moments, but all she wanted to do was to let go and make the pain leave her. Leave her forever.
"Mama..." her weakened voice asked, the red haired woman from within the circle of white light almost calling to her.
"Not this day child." Her vision cleared as a calming hand laid itself against her sweat soaked forehead. Slowly, consciousness came back to the child, as her eyes looked down and saw the horror the demonic machines had visited on her. "My name is Ananym. I'm here to help young one."
"no.. oh gawd... nooo..ooo..." she weeped suddenly, startling her savior who retracted her hand thinking she had caused the child's torment. Looking down, the mage saw what the child cried for, her lower abdomen slashed as her blood flowed out into grooved etched along the tables surface. Taking a step back, she glanced at the grooves design, looking closely at the picture they created. The child had seen it too, horror movies chilling her as her mind reconciled that some of that terror was very real.
A pentagram, now red with the girls blood, pulsed beneath the child's thrashing body.
Steeling herself, Ananym Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, stepped forward again, wrapping the child in her arms as her voice chanted the transportation spell she desired. Her red clock whipped in the maelstrom it created, Ananym looked back before leaving the sewers she had fought so valiantly inside of.
Three Robotic bodies, laid strung out in pieces on the floor, devoid of sparks. She didn't even know their names, and she'd bet they didn't know the name of the child they were attempting to sacrifice on that alter of theirs either.
'How very', Ananym thought as she jumped into the portal, 'interesting. The events have begun.'
DR. STRANGE MARVEL UNIVERSE: TRANSFORMED
THE MATRIX GRIMORE #1
WRITTEN BY: Alex 'BioHaz' Cook
NEXT ISSUE: Ananym Strange? Wait... where's Stephan? And hold up, weren't those Transformers sacrificing that kid? Wait a minute... Ananym Strange? Find out more next issue.
So what the hell is this? Simple. It's me being a fan-boy. Yep, that's really all there is to it.
I'm writing Transformers. It's kinda cool actually.
Wait, Alex, you're writing Dr. Strange, not Transformers, and NOT even Dr. Strange!!
*smirk* am I?
What I am writing is magick in a fic universe dominated by science. Stay tuned for more, as more questions are answered and asked. This will be a twisted ride, but it will breath magick into the Marvel Transformed world.