"Beta radiation is off the chart." A whispered male voice said to no one in particular, him being the only living person within the enclave of technology. Gears and pistons, gyros and circuitry; artifacts of the sciences surrounded him as he toiled away the hours.
"Richards' Negative Zone chart has nothing on these spectrums."
Numbers flowed like water across the digital displays. Flat panel screens in a myriad of different shapes and sizes fed the information directly to their user, an IV drip of facts and theorems. Wild eyes, tainted by madness and brilliance, gazed at the decoded binary strings like stars in an empty night sky.
"These numbers are impossible."
"Magick makes anything possible," a female voice, appearing suddenly from nowhere, replied casually as if her comment was asked for. As the man in green whirled around, scanning the area and verifying that no security alarms had been flipped, it was revealed that her voice was anything but expected.
"Or is that too Strange for you to comprehend?" Ananym asked from within the shadows.
~+~+~+~
DR. STRANGE: MUTF #5
the.matrix.grimore
Written By: Alex Cook
~+~+~+~
"Comprehend exactly that which I am informing you of."
Digitized notes that were modulated into something akin to a voice spoke to the assembled with an authority-ridden air that few could master.
"What we are doing is against the very files of origin we hold in each of our cores. To do these things we wholly admit there are other entities beyond our own creators that dictate the fate of Reality. We defame that which spawned us, with full knowledge and consciousness of our actions. By touching the very stones themselves we caress the skin of something beyond the Decepticon dark lords."
Statues of indifference stared back at the winged mechinoid. Steely fingers gripped the jewel of green, fractals of immense complexity rotating within its core. Holding it high, the light caught it just the right way as circles of black like heat haze seemed to rise from its surface.
"Soon the Beast itself will erase such lines of alignment. Soon, all facets will be unified." A steel feather dropped to the floor as fists and shouts were raised in the air. "All parts will be made whole."
~+~+~+~
"Parts of this still doesn't make any sense, Thinker." Ananym asked, slowly walking into the mad scientist's lair as if she were about to enjoy a spot of tea.
"When did you decide to jump the fence and play in my backyard?"
Thinking, the madman paused, looking at the red-haired dervish standing before him. Her eyes glanced behind him as he continued to elongate the moment into a pregnant pause.
"When did you start experimenting with Magick on your droids?"
"The second I found out the Xenotech had started making pixies and fireworks with the snap of their fingers, dearest Stranger." The Mad Thinker answered, a hint of a smile on his lips. "The very minute it was verified that the border between the digital and mystical had blurred. The night your predecessor was forced to leave his job. How is Beaker street by the way? Wong still about?"
Ananym eyes widened a little at the sudden outpouring of comments from her opponent.
"Know thy enemy, Ananym. And I knew you would be mine one day."
"What are you doing here, Thinker?" Ananym pressed, pointing to the faceless, ashen-skinned android on top the observation table behind him. "Or should I say 'Keith Dreams'?".
The Thinker looked back, noting the readings on the diodes affixed to the output of the android's skull. "Running an experiment," he answered simply.
Ananym saw the golden fragment of metal that seemed to be the focal point of the experiment. Leads of all sizes ran from it casing, machinery and computerports the culmination of the cords. "Nothing that I have read on you said you believed in fairytales, Thinker."
Ananym challenged, recognizing the Golden Disk Fractyl had spoken of.
"Ah, yes, the Golden Disk." Thinker mused, almost as if the thought was spoken, rather than kept as a direct comment internally. Drifting toward the nearest monitor, the scientist made his fingers dance across the interface. Nodding, Ananym realized she had suddenly lost the mad man's interest.
"You really are Mad." Ananym offered. The Thinker simply raised his head and looked at her with rage.
"Oh, enough already. ATTACK!" he suddenly shouted, the white form of metal on the operating table opposite Ananym jerking to life equally fast.
Ananym floated a few inches from the ground, watching the lurching, sinewy movement of the Thinker's android as it neared her. 'It's fast,' she noted as it leapt over the obstacles found within a laboratory such as this. The fist was next to her cheek before she finished thinking, 'Too fast.'
"Ow!' she bellowed as the attack of the android finally connected, her cheek bruising and throbbing in response. "Screw this." Ananym's vernacular had hardened as well as her personality over the past few years. Timid at one point, the red haired woman that rose back to her feet was anything but these days.
Words meant everything to magick. True Names meant even more. It was a testament to the status of Sorcerer Supreme that Ananym said nothing as her spell was cast. The ground beneath her sagged, the concrete immediately starting to crack once the spell was complete. Then, the mage was on the move.
A right hook connected with the droid's faceless head, shattering lamely the gears that made up its jaw.
"Oh, dear." The Thinker said as he watched from the sidelines. "That's going to be a right bitch to fix."
Left unmonitored again, the screens around the Thinker spasmed as the CPU of the mechinoid relayed the feedback of the damage that Ananym's foot did to its rib cage area.
Retaliating quickly, two hits from the creation's left foot connected with the Sorcerer. First to her shin, forcing Ananym down slightly, then to her downwards turned chin, forcing her head back with a snap of her neck. A line of blood dribbled down her chin.
Ananym's smile equaled the Mad Thinker's, determining the level of their sanity.
Jumping quickly, Ananym dodged the leg sweep that was sent her way, dropping fully to the ground with her leg extended. She felt more than heard the shoulder unit give under her spell-magnified weight. Sparks flew as she rolled back and kipped up to her feet just as quickly as she had landed.
"The little toy is not faring so well, Thinker."
"No, it's not." The Thinker noted, running his fingers over a nearby keyboard.
The android stood to its full height, arms suddenly curling as its voice box began chanting. Latin, Ananym noted. A spell, she suddenly registered. Her defenses were lax as the hex caught her off guard. Spinning, Ananym fell to the floor again as the Thinker clapped his hands in glee.
"Rules changed, have they?," Strange said, floating above the ground as her hands formed an odd pattern of finger contortions. Eldritch energy formed as blue and green sparks around her arms, dissipating in strength as the effect extended towards her shoulders. There was a flash of movement as she clapped her hands together and a wall of force erupted forward. Equipment of all varieties shattered in its wake, including a large portion of the Thinker's android.
"Wow, under two minutes." The Thinker noted, glancing at the readouts. "The magickal output was meager at best. Something is not interfacing correctly."
Again, the fact that Ananym was there seemed to have slipped the Thinker's mind.
"Try this one."
Or perhaps it had not. Another white being of steel lurched forwarded, faster than the first. Its arms twirled quickly as it mimicked Ananym's earlier movements. As Ananym felt the force surging forward she leapt, hovering in the air but caught in the wash of power none the less. Tipsy, she hurtled to the ground like a stone once gravity took hold, flight halted by her lost of concentration.
"Oh, what is this? The Reflection model?" Ananym yelled, dodging another ball of force as it sailed through the air.
The smile of the Thinker only grew wider.
~+~+~+~
Wider, the circle expanded as each of the members walked further away from the growing...
It could only be explained as a rip. A physical tear in the very air in front of them. Within its veil, nothing but black was shown, small white dots that appeared to be stars speckling its surface.
The chant continued as the four teens steeled themselves against the dark wonder, birthing itself onto their plane of reality.
~+~+~+~
Reality swam around her as dots of ebony and crimson danced in front of Ananym's eye. 'Damn, that thing can punch,' she thought as she rubbed her temple.
"Oh, is the Gamma Flight member hurt?" Thinker asked in a sing-song voice.
Ananym only glared at the madman. "How'd you know that, Thinker?"
"Oh, I've learned lots and lots about that esoteric side of the world you inhabit, my dear." The thinker began pontification as his android launched another volley of assaults Ananym's way. "Everything technological is my backyard, child. Now, due to circumstances I still do not understand, the lines between your world and mine have crossed."
Ananym returned the attack with a spell of her own, flames engulfing the construct in the hopes of melting it where it stood.
"I've had to learn of all sorts of new things. Things like the Golden Disk over there. Or the entity named Vishianti. Let's not forget when I learned about those stones you've been collecting."
Ananyms eye widened as the Mad Thinkers words diverted her attention. The android took advantage of it and threw the mage across the room, her spine screaming in protest as she connected mercilessly with the wall.
"How about that girl you found a few weeks back? Or the circular design? Oh yes, I've learned lots and lots and lots and lots since the Transformers started blasting around energy beams not based on normal mathematics."
Ananym gasped for breath as she attempted to destroy the android yet again, this time forming a hand from the very concrete itself and forcing its fingers around the mechanical thing, ensnaring it within a crushing grip.
"One of my favorites is how you got infected with the TechnoOrganicVirus in the first place,"
Ananym reeled as the sudden bomb was dropped on her. The Mad Thinker only smiled wider as he noted her reaction. He was far from done, however. The sudden revelation that her illness was not at all well-concealed had hurt her more than any physical blow yet.
"However, the absolute best thing was how your Dad is involved in so much more then you realize!"
Ananym lost all composure at the mention of her father and spun around, facing the Thinker with daggers in her eyes. Howling, she seemed to snap from one point on the floor to another in the blink of an eye as her hands gripped the insane gentleman's throat in the same manner the stone hand flexed around his android.
"Don't you DARE utter that bastard's name!" Ananym shouted, turning and slamming the Mad Thinker to the ground.
"Hit a raw nerve, have I?" He said with nothing but pure glee.
The fist of concrete spasmed as it crushed the android in its grasp fiercely. A small portion of the Thinker's smile faded.
~+~+~+~
Their voices, unified in all aspects, faded collectively. The volume diminished as the stars winked out one by one, the tear seeming to close with the oddest snapping sound in the gathering had ever heard.
If not everyone had not been so intent on the closing remarks required by the casted spell, the pop of reality correcting itself would not have been the only irregular sound they heard. Like the snap a firecracker emits in a hollow alley, the noise was unnoticed as someone had hoped.
A hand, clad in a blue sleek cuff near the wrist, dropped to the odd black material on the ground, smearing the circular edge in a wave.
With the final small fissure in reality secured, the hand seemed to fold in on itself with a puff of smoke.
Almost as one each that remained sighed in relief. One dropped to his knees, sweat pouring from underneath his cloak. Two others hobbled over to a nearby car's hood, leaning against it as they sucked in air in gasps. Only one stayed standing, although she did show extreme wear after such strenuous work.
"DigitalConstructs, anyone?" One near the car asked, hopefully.
The remaining three groaned.
~+~+~+~
"Groan all you want, your damn bot did more than that to me a few minutes ago." Ananym said, looking down at the caged villain near her feet.
Tendrils of crimson, small curled spikes running up and down each side hooking into the fat skin of the Mad Thinker.
"Oh, this is an event I do wish never repeating." The man sighed, groaning as the binds tightened their hold on him.
Ananym looked down again, calculating her options. The question of what to do with the maniac weighed heavily on her mind, as her options were minimal.
Ananym almost laughed out loud when the solution dawned on her. "Oh, dear boy, this is going to be a hoot." Flicking her wrist to the left, the Mad Thinker was suddenly standing upright, leaning next to the wall grimacing in pain. The thorns were downright uncomfortable.
"First, a question. Where did you learn about the Golden Disk?"
The Thinker sighed, looking over at his captor as non-chalantly as possible. Failing, he just groaned in pain again. "Oh, put two and two together dear. How did I know about the dead little girl?"
"You've obviously consorted with Transformers." Ananym said flatly.
"Ah, not only Transformers. A certain sect of Xenotech. A very odd variety of the species in fact."
Ananym only glared, waiting for the tortured man to continue.
"Where have you seen the circle before?" The Thinker tried to prompt again. Ananym sighed as she realized he was not going to answer anything directly.
"You really are nuts."
"Yes, there is that undeniable fact."
Ananym only rubbed her temples, thinking. Where had she seen that damn symbol before, she contemplated.
Finally, the Mad Thinker could handle no more. "Why do you think I kept dragging out our damn fight, woman? Don't you think I had everything planned out within 12% of error?! Ananym, think for once!" The man was almost pleading with her.
Wait, pleading, Ananym thought. Why hasn't he answered a single question directly? "Have you been binded from saying certain things, Thinker?" Ananym ventured.
The insane riddled man only shook his head in agreement.
"Begone." Ananym commented, The Mad Thinker convulsed as he seemed to fold in on himself in the most horrendous looking of ways. A puff of smoke was all that signified the completion of his transportation, the small hole created by the spell closing rapidly. A woman was heard through it however, Ananym smiling at her screams.
"Mr. Blackrock!"
Ananym only sighed as her glee at the madman's absence faded. All she could do was think about his words, the Mad Thinker's ramblings having opened one too many wounds. Exhaustion gripped her suddenly as the adrenaline drained away as well.
A small tendril of wire sprouted from behind her ear and secured itself into her collarbone, almost instantly. Ananym could only grimace at the sudden intrusion.
Why had the Mad Thinker kept on launching drone after drone after her? Was there some reason he was forced to keep her here?
Who could manipulate that madman though? And with magick at that?
Ananym thoughts were heavy as she too vanished from the Mad Thinkers secret and now-destroyed locale.
~+~+~+~
BINARY BRIMSTONE
~+~+~+~
For some reason this one was hard to write. I'm not sure how well this came off, actually. Hrm. I'll try something different next time.
-ALEX 01.10.02
Thursday, January 10, 2002
Monday, December 03, 2001
Doctor Strange #4 - The Matrix Grimore
Deep breathe. Center. Pause. Thought before action. Ananym's mind was acting on pure instinct, her motions and actions being decided more by her subconscious than herself, ripping the window sill with a spell of weight from her conscious mind. Coiled, her legs tightened as her knees bent, readying herself on the ledge before she sprung into action.
No one on the street looked up and pointed at the odd woman who appeared to be close to jumping off the house's precipice, the emergency services failing to be raised due to the lack of notice of her location. Ananym favored the Mansions obfuscated nature, the attribute making her life and job much easier than it would have been under different circumstances. A node of magickal resources, the residence on Bleaker Street resonated to the magicaklly affiliated, however.
Ananym listened closely, hearing the soft motions of her intruder, unaware that it was in fact being monitored, moving about the study. Her study. It would have found the diagrams she had left on the table by now. She had no choice but to treat the visitor as a threat, the ex-spy reasoned. Smiling, the Sorcerer Supreme's legs twitched for a second before she jumped up and around, her hands gripping the windowsill, rotating her body around and through the opening. The fingertips of Ananym's hands touched the Transformer's shoulder quickly as a bright blue spark shone and the thing seemed to convulse in pain.
The spell undone, the mage righted herself as the mechanoid turned to meet her. Dropping to the ground, one knee touched the carpet briefly before the red haired dervish was in the air again. Spinning, she cast another simple spell of weight, this time increasing her mass to add weight to the upcoming attack.
This Transformer was of human height, perhaps a bit taller, standing at eight feet none the less. Ananym would have deduced that it was in fact its chosen alter version that dictated its size, but instead the mage thanked whatever Gods the constructs would hail that it wasn't too big for her crescent swing, heel connecting smartly with its jaw area.
"Argh!" He screamed, the electronic voice male in tone. Green and silver, the Transformer moved quickly, shoulder pads of a emerald reptilian variety connecting against Ananym's side, shoving her back. Timing the motion correctly, the Sorcerer Supreme stopped as the robot fist slammed against her jaw.
Shrugging her neck, Ananym enforced the spell of weight, with an added enchantment to even the score between the two combatants.
This was fun.
~+~+~+~
DR. STRANGE: MARVEL TRANSFORMED
THE MATRIX GRIMORE #4
Written By: Alex Cook
~+~+~+~
An emotion described with the words joy and elation,being the fun the Transformer was not having as Ananym fought back hard and fast. First a right hook rained down on the metallic faceplate, while her left hand sailed up, crushing the housing of the thing's ribs. Eldritch energy circled her fists as the assault continued, a foot snapping up twice, using the confusion of the Transformer to her advantage. Leveraging her weight to the right, Ananym hooked her arm around one of its, spinning back as the low-tonned monstrosity sailed over her shoulder.
Mystical construction went a long way to surviving the sudden lurching against the floorboards, the house's owner paying little note as she jumped into the air once more. Somersaulting twice while turning a few hundred degrees, Ananym came down on its chest, feet crushing it slightly as she dropped down near the Transformer's head. Its eyes flashed red as it felt sudden constructions around its limbs.
"You weren't prepared."
"I was in your damned home, woman! Who would assault anyone here??"
"Obviously your assumption has been proven false."
"I can't believe you just did that."
Ananym smiled as the bands of energy securing the Transformer to the ground disappeared. "All part of the tutelage."
"You're more sadistic then a Predacon."
Ananym only raised a single eyebrow, dismissing the comment with a stare of heat, centered on her pupil.
~+~+~+~
With dilated pupils, the man shoved the soup kitchen worker forcefully aside.
"Hey! Excuse me for offering you food!"
An unkempt beard of black, his eyes hidden behind the shadow that was cast by the large-brimmed hat the derelict wore, was all that Mark saw when the head looked toward him.
"Soup, for you, good. Ya know?" Mark motioned, mocking the obviously insane gentlemen. Damn the high school and their stupid idea that volunteer hours were required to graduate.
"Hurgh" was all the other one said, if the sound could be deemed a word in the first place and not simply that, a sound. A sigh even, as aged and stank breath left the wizened man's throat along with it.
Mark waved a hand in the air near his nose as the line moved forward, the man who'd just accosted him walking away. Clearing the air proved futile, the stench of the man hung around Mark like a cloud.
The soup flowed, its server unaware as the derelict continued his movement toward the alley, still mumbling. No one around really heard what was said, but if they would have, the words wouldn't have made much sense. Who really understands what Vishiniti and Agomatto means anyway?
~+~+~+~
"Meaning we move tonight."
The DigitalConstructs halted as their players attention moved to look at the speaker. With One's sudden comment, the room had grown silent. Nodding, he hung up the phone and turned to the odd stares and glances that was directed his way.
"We're doing what?" The sole female asked, closest to her lover and leader.
"Another ritual." One answered nonchalantly, groans being his answer from the other two that made up their quintet.
"Why? I thought that was a one-time gig," Three said. "I'm still wigged out from the last one."
"Cash is cash, people. We've got plans tonight." One finished with a smile. To him, the conversation was over.
~+~+~+~
Over and over she turned the priceless gem, emerald in tint. It reflected the red hue of her hair in the oddest way, fractal patterns within the surface of the stone oscillating randomly. An odd cacophony of hues resulted, pinks and greens twirling about each other.
Placing the item down on the table, Ananym looked over at the still- bound Transformer. Dropping into the chair nearby, propping her feet against the table, she smiled at the expression on the construct's face. It could almost be described as annoyance.
"Oh, what's wrong?" Ananym asked in a high pitched voice, playing with the snared opponent.
"Master, you've proved your point. Would you PLEASE release me now?" It asked, digitized notes of sound emitted from its skull.
With the sap of her fingers, the wish was granted. Standing, it made sure that each tendril of energy was in fact no longer visible. "Did you enjoy that?"
Ananym winked as she said, "Yes, I did." Motioning a finger of her steeped hands to the stone, she continued. "Where did you find it?"
"South America. It was easy enough to locate once I knew which energy signature I had to look for."
"The beauty of science."
The Robot smiled, looking at its Master. "Coming to my train of thought, ma'am?"
A silver tendril of circuitry cut a grove across Ananym's left check, receding beneath her healing skin just as quickly.
"No." An awkward silence hung, Ananym using it to prove her point and silently admonish her student for his transgressions. "Go on, Fractyl." She finally said, punishment rendered as the Transformers face seemed to be painted with embarrassment.
"I also heard some interesting rumors while there, Master." Fractyl said, changing subjects. "About a Golden Disk."
Ananym's eyebrows showed her confusion. "What?"
"The Golden Disk?" Ananym continued to stare back at him blankly. "You've never heard of it? In your overzealous pursuit of magickal artifacts, I was sure that you would have learned of some of my own species' items of note."
"So I haven't learned about it. Educate me."
Fractyl made a swallowing noise, straightning before continuing. "There's only a handful of myths within the culture of my species. One refers to these 'Golden Disks'."
"You sound like you don't believe in them."
Fractyl paused, considering the notion. "No, I do. It's the nature of the Transformer condition I guess. We KNOW our creator. We have factual evidence of its existence. These Golden Disks are revered in the same respect." Ananym took on a new interesting, something peeking her senses as the Dinosaur-based Transformer continued. "Supposedly they prophesized our landing here. Lord Megatron..."
Ananym let out a small sigh at the name. "Again with the single minded approach to alignment."
Fractyl collected his thoughts again, waging into a mine field he'd been in before. "Regardless of my current affiliations, I have my heritage to respect."
Ananym waved her hand, dismissing the conversation before her student could. "Go on."
"Megatron, the original, destroyed the twin disks eons ago. Their very existence was a rumor on Cybertron. Even within the camp of the Decepticon, who was supposedly the original creators of the Golden Disks. The how and why of the Disks were preposterous to most."
"Then why bring it up?"
"Have you read any Archeologic periodicals lately?"
"My, how we've acclimated to the new world."
"If you had..." Fractyl said, brushing past the comment. His Master enjoyed keeping a sarcastic atmosphere between the two. He never felt beneath her in most areas, only in the ones he sought her tutelage for in the first place. "..You might have noticed the interesting find near Mexico City."
"Like what?"
"Like a certain artifact uncovered in an Inca Temple with circuitry inside it. And golden plating."
Ananym smiled slightly, looking at her student in a new way. "I knew there was a reason I accepted you as my student."
~+~+~+~
Student of the technological arts, the man moved through the alleyway slowly, watching and waiting. Foot traffic slowed, a red light halting its movement and allowing him passage into the shadow-encased area. A canyon between two dilapidated buildings, the stretch of asphalt was a shantytown of sorts, homeless and derelicts creating a home for them where before they had none.
'If only they put their minds to work for them, rather then their brawn,' the man thought to himself. He looked around, noting the sign of the store he was looking for not much further down. It was the sole business within the alleyway, it's wares of the less than legal kind. Only a few knew of it, and it's security precautions were equally extreme.
The fact he had to come here himself, rather than one of his creations, all to take a ridiculous blood sample and retina scan to prove his identity appalled him. The grin that was seemingly permanently painted on his face, frowned, resulting in an odd facial expression.
Entering the archway of the 'shop', the man moved apart his brown strings of hair, opening his eyes and staring directly into a small camera within the peephole. A flash of red light and his retina was scanned, a process taking seconds to complete and costing him more time and money then he cared to think about, finishing.
The door swung open, leaving an unassuming entranceway of classic Mexican flavor to greet him.
"Please enter." a voice called from the back. The man did indeed step inside, a hand of strength gripping his shoulder as he did so. "Manuel will guide you."
"Wonderful."
Lead like a blind man, the 'guest' of the shop keeper, named Rico as far as he knew, was seated within an even smaller den, complete with oak desk.
"Welcome." Rico said, leaning forward on his elbows. "If you wouldn't mind?"
Manuel offered a digital scanner, complete with prick to snare the man's DNA. His thumb was placed on the screen, the cuff of the green jumpsuit rolled up to his elbow to make sure there were no tricks. Five seconds later and the device blinked a green light. "Checks out sir."
Tapping a few keys on his keyboard, Rico lit a fat cigar, chewing its end as he puffed on it.
The customer, brown hair long and unkempt past his shoulders paused a second, looking at the reseller with interest. "My package?"
"Sir, we have as you would say a problem."
A raised eyebrow was the man's only response.
"There turned out to be more cost associated with securing your item. Say... another five hundred thousand."
Sitting up closer, the man replied evenly, "A half million dollars more?"
"Yes, sir."
The man's grin widened a little, his eyes equally growing in size. "I thought you might say that."
Rico's small shop suddenly was greeted by the sudden destruction of it's rear wall, white fingers attached to super strong hands gripping the Mexican man's neck.
"Pop goes the weasel." The man said as his body spontaneously combusted, destroying the remaining support structure that still stood. Mexico City was never known for its promptly responsive fire unit, the dwelling turned to ashes in an hour, as no one paid it much mind.
~+~+~+~
The conflagration grew as another few logs were placed on its burning ridges. The bonfire grew as new substance was offered to burn, the four gathered stepping back and watching it intently.
"Everyone ready?" The obvious head of the cabal asked. Nods of assent were given all around, all bowing their heads as they prepared themselves.
The moon hung heavy in the sky as their chanting began, the orb of rock looking down on a strange circle within a circle pattern.
~+~+~+~
Patterns of binary codes, data detailing certain archeological facts scrolled past Ananym's silver patched eye. Fractyl had once asked her about the odd addition to her face, but he hadn't gotten much response. Ananym rarely spoke about herself, Fractyl thought. She was the fly on the wall type, not because she was shy but because being unassuming was what she was taught. Espionage and subterfuge was intertwined with her very soul it seemed, although Fractyl thought this always wasn't the way. There was something hardened with his Master. Something akin to his own nature, perhaps offering suggestion on why their partnership worked at all, much less as it did.
Looking over at the human-shaped reptile, leather-like skin of green still visible in his humanoid shape.
"Did you find the affinity I sensed?" Fractyl asked, noticing the glance.
"Yeah, this is exactly the type of stone we're looking for. Two down." Glancing back at an ancient tome near the hologram-based display, she finished with. "I'm really not sure how many that are left."
"What are they, though?" Fractyl asked for the hundredth time.
Ananym looked back at the display, a screen of scientific and mystical facts streaming against her eyes. "Still not sure there, either. But there is a strong Earth affinity to it's aura. Something," Ananym said, squinting. "Dark inside it's edges as well."
Fractyl returned to his net surfing, hitting the latest DigitalConstructs website created. The Transformer really had an addiction.
"Fractyl, stop playing. You've got somewhere to go."
"Again?" he sighed, standing up.
"Enough. There's a few leads here," she said, throwing a mini-optical disk at him. "About possible locations for the third gem. Contact me in a week and let me know how you're doing."
Fractyl inserted the disk into a drive in his chest, securing it as he answered. "Alright then. What have you got planned?"
Ananym smiled as new information scrolled past her optic nerve. "A little gold digging I think."
~+~+~+~
Digging proved to be the exact action Ananym found herself doing, hours later and miles away from her estate. Sifting through rubble was never a favored past time for the Sorcerer Supreme, nor anyone else's for that matter. Snapping her fingers, large sections of debris was removed in the blink of a eye, Ananym appeared to been none the less for the wear. Physically at least. Mentally, the task was exhausting.
Mexico City wasn't greatest of cities to start with, Ananym thought. The destroyed building that had been left to rot seemed to fit the area's decor.
A support beam surged as the mystic removed it from its grave. Ripping out large sections of rubble in the process, the former building stood revealed, albeit still surrounded by ruins. Ananym ducked inside the newly formed opening, a shield of energy shimmering and pushing things out of her way as she bore deeper.
Slowly, the ruminants of blood could be seen, the red haired woman sniffing as she smelt the decay of the hidden bodies.
"Be my Eye." She whispered, invoking the talisman of Agamatto from within the clasp at her neck. Spinning in a gyroscopic motion, the ancient optical based fetter opened its eyelids, a beam of pure light casting into the destruction.
Closing her eyes, Ananym saw what the Eye did.
A mad grin, looking down on a Hispanic man, no more then thirty himself.
Deals being struck, the grinning man waving his hands about madly.
The sudden destruction of the wall, followed by the explosion of the man in green.
Ananym gasped slightly, looking around as the Eye of Agamatto returned to its home, it's service rendered. 'Know your enemies' she thought, looking around the former merchant-based building. The question of who had been answered; now it was a matter of why.
"The Mad Thinker." She said to the air, raising from the ground and blinking out of reality in a wash of static and colors.
~+~+~+~ BINARY BRIMSTONE ~+~+~+~
It seems that people are enjoying this, thanks to those that have commented.
-ALEX 12.03.01
No one on the street looked up and pointed at the odd woman who appeared to be close to jumping off the house's precipice, the emergency services failing to be raised due to the lack of notice of her location. Ananym favored the Mansions obfuscated nature, the attribute making her life and job much easier than it would have been under different circumstances. A node of magickal resources, the residence on Bleaker Street resonated to the magicaklly affiliated, however.
Ananym listened closely, hearing the soft motions of her intruder, unaware that it was in fact being monitored, moving about the study. Her study. It would have found the diagrams she had left on the table by now. She had no choice but to treat the visitor as a threat, the ex-spy reasoned. Smiling, the Sorcerer Supreme's legs twitched for a second before she jumped up and around, her hands gripping the windowsill, rotating her body around and through the opening. The fingertips of Ananym's hands touched the Transformer's shoulder quickly as a bright blue spark shone and the thing seemed to convulse in pain.
The spell undone, the mage righted herself as the mechanoid turned to meet her. Dropping to the ground, one knee touched the carpet briefly before the red haired dervish was in the air again. Spinning, she cast another simple spell of weight, this time increasing her mass to add weight to the upcoming attack.
This Transformer was of human height, perhaps a bit taller, standing at eight feet none the less. Ananym would have deduced that it was in fact its chosen alter version that dictated its size, but instead the mage thanked whatever Gods the constructs would hail that it wasn't too big for her crescent swing, heel connecting smartly with its jaw area.
"Argh!" He screamed, the electronic voice male in tone. Green and silver, the Transformer moved quickly, shoulder pads of a emerald reptilian variety connecting against Ananym's side, shoving her back. Timing the motion correctly, the Sorcerer Supreme stopped as the robot fist slammed against her jaw.
Shrugging her neck, Ananym enforced the spell of weight, with an added enchantment to even the score between the two combatants.
This was fun.
~+~+~+~
DR. STRANGE: MARVEL TRANSFORMED
THE MATRIX GRIMORE #4
Written By: Alex Cook
~+~+~+~
An emotion described with the words joy and elation,being the fun the Transformer was not having as Ananym fought back hard and fast. First a right hook rained down on the metallic faceplate, while her left hand sailed up, crushing the housing of the thing's ribs. Eldritch energy circled her fists as the assault continued, a foot snapping up twice, using the confusion of the Transformer to her advantage. Leveraging her weight to the right, Ananym hooked her arm around one of its, spinning back as the low-tonned monstrosity sailed over her shoulder.
Mystical construction went a long way to surviving the sudden lurching against the floorboards, the house's owner paying little note as she jumped into the air once more. Somersaulting twice while turning a few hundred degrees, Ananym came down on its chest, feet crushing it slightly as she dropped down near the Transformer's head. Its eyes flashed red as it felt sudden constructions around its limbs.
"You weren't prepared."
"I was in your damned home, woman! Who would assault anyone here??"
"Obviously your assumption has been proven false."
"I can't believe you just did that."
Ananym smiled as the bands of energy securing the Transformer to the ground disappeared. "All part of the tutelage."
"You're more sadistic then a Predacon."
Ananym only raised a single eyebrow, dismissing the comment with a stare of heat, centered on her pupil.
~+~+~+~
With dilated pupils, the man shoved the soup kitchen worker forcefully aside.
"Hey! Excuse me for offering you food!"
An unkempt beard of black, his eyes hidden behind the shadow that was cast by the large-brimmed hat the derelict wore, was all that Mark saw when the head looked toward him.
"Soup, for you, good. Ya know?" Mark motioned, mocking the obviously insane gentlemen. Damn the high school and their stupid idea that volunteer hours were required to graduate.
"Hurgh" was all the other one said, if the sound could be deemed a word in the first place and not simply that, a sound. A sigh even, as aged and stank breath left the wizened man's throat along with it.
Mark waved a hand in the air near his nose as the line moved forward, the man who'd just accosted him walking away. Clearing the air proved futile, the stench of the man hung around Mark like a cloud.
The soup flowed, its server unaware as the derelict continued his movement toward the alley, still mumbling. No one around really heard what was said, but if they would have, the words wouldn't have made much sense. Who really understands what Vishiniti and Agomatto means anyway?
~+~+~+~
"Meaning we move tonight."
The DigitalConstructs halted as their players attention moved to look at the speaker. With One's sudden comment, the room had grown silent. Nodding, he hung up the phone and turned to the odd stares and glances that was directed his way.
"We're doing what?" The sole female asked, closest to her lover and leader.
"Another ritual." One answered nonchalantly, groans being his answer from the other two that made up their quintet.
"Why? I thought that was a one-time gig," Three said. "I'm still wigged out from the last one."
"Cash is cash, people. We've got plans tonight." One finished with a smile. To him, the conversation was over.
~+~+~+~
Over and over she turned the priceless gem, emerald in tint. It reflected the red hue of her hair in the oddest way, fractal patterns within the surface of the stone oscillating randomly. An odd cacophony of hues resulted, pinks and greens twirling about each other.
Placing the item down on the table, Ananym looked over at the still- bound Transformer. Dropping into the chair nearby, propping her feet against the table, she smiled at the expression on the construct's face. It could almost be described as annoyance.
"Oh, what's wrong?" Ananym asked in a high pitched voice, playing with the snared opponent.
"Master, you've proved your point. Would you PLEASE release me now?" It asked, digitized notes of sound emitted from its skull.
With the sap of her fingers, the wish was granted. Standing, it made sure that each tendril of energy was in fact no longer visible. "Did you enjoy that?"
Ananym winked as she said, "Yes, I did." Motioning a finger of her steeped hands to the stone, she continued. "Where did you find it?"
"South America. It was easy enough to locate once I knew which energy signature I had to look for."
"The beauty of science."
The Robot smiled, looking at its Master. "Coming to my train of thought, ma'am?"
A silver tendril of circuitry cut a grove across Ananym's left check, receding beneath her healing skin just as quickly.
"No." An awkward silence hung, Ananym using it to prove her point and silently admonish her student for his transgressions. "Go on, Fractyl." She finally said, punishment rendered as the Transformers face seemed to be painted with embarrassment.
"I also heard some interesting rumors while there, Master." Fractyl said, changing subjects. "About a Golden Disk."
Ananym's eyebrows showed her confusion. "What?"
"The Golden Disk?" Ananym continued to stare back at him blankly. "You've never heard of it? In your overzealous pursuit of magickal artifacts, I was sure that you would have learned of some of my own species' items of note."
"So I haven't learned about it. Educate me."
Fractyl made a swallowing noise, straightning before continuing. "There's only a handful of myths within the culture of my species. One refers to these 'Golden Disks'."
"You sound like you don't believe in them."
Fractyl paused, considering the notion. "No, I do. It's the nature of the Transformer condition I guess. We KNOW our creator. We have factual evidence of its existence. These Golden Disks are revered in the same respect." Ananym took on a new interesting, something peeking her senses as the Dinosaur-based Transformer continued. "Supposedly they prophesized our landing here. Lord Megatron..."
Ananym let out a small sigh at the name. "Again with the single minded approach to alignment."
Fractyl collected his thoughts again, waging into a mine field he'd been in before. "Regardless of my current affiliations, I have my heritage to respect."
Ananym waved her hand, dismissing the conversation before her student could. "Go on."
"Megatron, the original, destroyed the twin disks eons ago. Their very existence was a rumor on Cybertron. Even within the camp of the Decepticon, who was supposedly the original creators of the Golden Disks. The how and why of the Disks were preposterous to most."
"Then why bring it up?"
"Have you read any Archeologic periodicals lately?"
"My, how we've acclimated to the new world."
"If you had..." Fractyl said, brushing past the comment. His Master enjoyed keeping a sarcastic atmosphere between the two. He never felt beneath her in most areas, only in the ones he sought her tutelage for in the first place. "..You might have noticed the interesting find near Mexico City."
"Like what?"
"Like a certain artifact uncovered in an Inca Temple with circuitry inside it. And golden plating."
Ananym smiled slightly, looking at her student in a new way. "I knew there was a reason I accepted you as my student."
~+~+~+~
Student of the technological arts, the man moved through the alleyway slowly, watching and waiting. Foot traffic slowed, a red light halting its movement and allowing him passage into the shadow-encased area. A canyon between two dilapidated buildings, the stretch of asphalt was a shantytown of sorts, homeless and derelicts creating a home for them where before they had none.
'If only they put their minds to work for them, rather then their brawn,' the man thought to himself. He looked around, noting the sign of the store he was looking for not much further down. It was the sole business within the alleyway, it's wares of the less than legal kind. Only a few knew of it, and it's security precautions were equally extreme.
The fact he had to come here himself, rather than one of his creations, all to take a ridiculous blood sample and retina scan to prove his identity appalled him. The grin that was seemingly permanently painted on his face, frowned, resulting in an odd facial expression.
Entering the archway of the 'shop', the man moved apart his brown strings of hair, opening his eyes and staring directly into a small camera within the peephole. A flash of red light and his retina was scanned, a process taking seconds to complete and costing him more time and money then he cared to think about, finishing.
The door swung open, leaving an unassuming entranceway of classic Mexican flavor to greet him.
"Please enter." a voice called from the back. The man did indeed step inside, a hand of strength gripping his shoulder as he did so. "Manuel will guide you."
"Wonderful."
Lead like a blind man, the 'guest' of the shop keeper, named Rico as far as he knew, was seated within an even smaller den, complete with oak desk.
"Welcome." Rico said, leaning forward on his elbows. "If you wouldn't mind?"
Manuel offered a digital scanner, complete with prick to snare the man's DNA. His thumb was placed on the screen, the cuff of the green jumpsuit rolled up to his elbow to make sure there were no tricks. Five seconds later and the device blinked a green light. "Checks out sir."
Tapping a few keys on his keyboard, Rico lit a fat cigar, chewing its end as he puffed on it.
The customer, brown hair long and unkempt past his shoulders paused a second, looking at the reseller with interest. "My package?"
"Sir, we have as you would say a problem."
A raised eyebrow was the man's only response.
"There turned out to be more cost associated with securing your item. Say... another five hundred thousand."
Sitting up closer, the man replied evenly, "A half million dollars more?"
"Yes, sir."
The man's grin widened a little, his eyes equally growing in size. "I thought you might say that."
Rico's small shop suddenly was greeted by the sudden destruction of it's rear wall, white fingers attached to super strong hands gripping the Mexican man's neck.
"Pop goes the weasel." The man said as his body spontaneously combusted, destroying the remaining support structure that still stood. Mexico City was never known for its promptly responsive fire unit, the dwelling turned to ashes in an hour, as no one paid it much mind.
~+~+~+~
The conflagration grew as another few logs were placed on its burning ridges. The bonfire grew as new substance was offered to burn, the four gathered stepping back and watching it intently.
"Everyone ready?" The obvious head of the cabal asked. Nods of assent were given all around, all bowing their heads as they prepared themselves.
The moon hung heavy in the sky as their chanting began, the orb of rock looking down on a strange circle within a circle pattern.
~+~+~+~
Patterns of binary codes, data detailing certain archeological facts scrolled past Ananym's silver patched eye. Fractyl had once asked her about the odd addition to her face, but he hadn't gotten much response. Ananym rarely spoke about herself, Fractyl thought. She was the fly on the wall type, not because she was shy but because being unassuming was what she was taught. Espionage and subterfuge was intertwined with her very soul it seemed, although Fractyl thought this always wasn't the way. There was something hardened with his Master. Something akin to his own nature, perhaps offering suggestion on why their partnership worked at all, much less as it did.
Looking over at the human-shaped reptile, leather-like skin of green still visible in his humanoid shape.
"Did you find the affinity I sensed?" Fractyl asked, noticing the glance.
"Yeah, this is exactly the type of stone we're looking for. Two down." Glancing back at an ancient tome near the hologram-based display, she finished with. "I'm really not sure how many that are left."
"What are they, though?" Fractyl asked for the hundredth time.
Ananym looked back at the display, a screen of scientific and mystical facts streaming against her eyes. "Still not sure there, either. But there is a strong Earth affinity to it's aura. Something," Ananym said, squinting. "Dark inside it's edges as well."
Fractyl returned to his net surfing, hitting the latest DigitalConstructs website created. The Transformer really had an addiction.
"Fractyl, stop playing. You've got somewhere to go."
"Again?" he sighed, standing up.
"Enough. There's a few leads here," she said, throwing a mini-optical disk at him. "About possible locations for the third gem. Contact me in a week and let me know how you're doing."
Fractyl inserted the disk into a drive in his chest, securing it as he answered. "Alright then. What have you got planned?"
Ananym smiled as new information scrolled past her optic nerve. "A little gold digging I think."
~+~+~+~
Digging proved to be the exact action Ananym found herself doing, hours later and miles away from her estate. Sifting through rubble was never a favored past time for the Sorcerer Supreme, nor anyone else's for that matter. Snapping her fingers, large sections of debris was removed in the blink of a eye, Ananym appeared to been none the less for the wear. Physically at least. Mentally, the task was exhausting.
Mexico City wasn't greatest of cities to start with, Ananym thought. The destroyed building that had been left to rot seemed to fit the area's decor.
A support beam surged as the mystic removed it from its grave. Ripping out large sections of rubble in the process, the former building stood revealed, albeit still surrounded by ruins. Ananym ducked inside the newly formed opening, a shield of energy shimmering and pushing things out of her way as she bore deeper.
Slowly, the ruminants of blood could be seen, the red haired woman sniffing as she smelt the decay of the hidden bodies.
"Be my Eye." She whispered, invoking the talisman of Agamatto from within the clasp at her neck. Spinning in a gyroscopic motion, the ancient optical based fetter opened its eyelids, a beam of pure light casting into the destruction.
Closing her eyes, Ananym saw what the Eye did.
A mad grin, looking down on a Hispanic man, no more then thirty himself.
Deals being struck, the grinning man waving his hands about madly.
The sudden destruction of the wall, followed by the explosion of the man in green.
Ananym gasped slightly, looking around as the Eye of Agamatto returned to its home, it's service rendered. 'Know your enemies' she thought, looking around the former merchant-based building. The question of who had been answered; now it was a matter of why.
"The Mad Thinker." She said to the air, raising from the ground and blinking out of reality in a wash of static and colors.
~+~+~+~ BINARY BRIMSTONE ~+~+~+~
It seems that people are enjoying this, thanks to those that have commented.
-ALEX 12.03.01
Saturday, November 24, 2001
Bishop #5 - Tales of Los Angeles
Bishop #5 - Tales of Los Angeles, part one
(Please note - I am not even going to try and represent Jazz’s accent. Vocabulary, yes, a bit. But not the accent. Even after thinking about it loads, I decided that it wasn’t worth it, and would probably detract from the story as I screwed it up. My apologies to all of those who miss the southern sounds of Scatman Crothers, but I’m not going to. Right, on with the story.....)
In almost the tales of all worlds, there is a hero, and there is a villain. It is often so that the line between the two is very blurred. Indeed, often so thin is the line that each often finds his or her self doing things that would not fit the stereotype. One such case is now.....
"ALRIGHT JAZZ, FLOOR IT!" Bishop yelled, as he ran towards the black Porsche parked on the sidewalk in front of him. This might have seemed odd to an onlooker, as there was no driver. But at this point in time, there were no onlookers, nor did the lack of a driver matter. As soon as Bishop was inside the door and bullets started to fly, the Porsche had begun to speed away, as Bishop lay across the front seats, out of breath.
"So I take it that they said no?" came a voice from the speakers of the car.
"You got that right," said Bishop, catching his breath. He checked to see if he’d been shot by the veritable wall of lead that had been thrown at him. Seeing that all was well, he twisted round, and grasped the steering wheel, in order to make it look as if he were driving.
Jazz made what could be considered a robotic sigh. "I take it you got what you went for?" Jazz may be becoming used to Bishop’s methods. However, as an Autobot, he didn’t appreciate the danger that Bishop was exposing himself, and others, to. The fact that he was opposed to Bishop’s theft of the data they required also had some bearing on this.
Bishop, on the other hand, had no problem with either of those factors. Raised as he was, he’d almost never had respite from danger. This time, his methods had brought him success.
"Indeed." He raised a small disk into the light. "Can you have a look for me, check it didn’t get damaged?"
"Sure thing." With that, Jazz’s CD player tray popped out, and Bishop put the disk into it. Where a normal CD player would be damaged by the data contained on a CDROM, Jazz was fully capable of understanding the sound that came out and translating it.
"Woah! We’ve struck paydirt!" came the cry from Jazz’s speakers, as he read the disk. "This has information for finding each major gang in the area! Including Downshift’s bunch."
"In that case, I think we know where we’ve got to go next. Where is it?"
"Hold it, we don’t even have a plan yet. With some of the guns I’ve seen these guys pack, even I don’t want to go in there without some idea about what to do."
"Then here’s the plan - you drive us in, when I get out, you transform. I hope that’ll scare enough of them away so that we can get to Downshift without much trouble."
Jazz was still unsure. He lacked Prowl’s logical tactical genius, but he wasn’t Autobot second in command for nothing. As a member of the Autobot High command, he’d seen worse plans, but then again, he didn’t like going in with so many variables. All they knew was that Downshift had holed up in an old warehouse with a gang called the ‘Morbid Victors’. ‘As seems to be the fashion for this world’s villains’ he thought, as an aside.
"I thought you’d be more enthusiastic... He is your comrade, after all.."
"I am, man, but we need to be careful. Prowl and the other ‘Bots’d rather we came back empty handed, than not at all."
"Then what about getting some backup?"
"Nothing doing Bish li’ll buddy, word from HQ says that we’re spread pretty thin on the ground here." (see almost every other title for details J Mike)
"Fine.. then we go ahead as planned...."
Jazz, stuck for an idea better than Bishop’s, had no choice but to agree.
----------------------------------------
Meanwhile, in a dark secluded corner of an abandoned warehouse, something is stirring. It snaps into consciousness like a sword out of its sheathe, and with all the inherent dangers. Unbeknownst to the ‘Morbid Victors’, the current inhabitants of said warehouse, its gold and black personage slowly starts to infiltrate the walls, the floors, and the very entirety of the Warehouse, waiting for the next card of fate to be played.
----------------------------------------
In the selfsame warehouse, a being sits on his throne. This is no throne like for a king of ages past, however. This throne was one of technology, and signified the power of it’s occupant...
As a viewscreen flipped out of one of the arms of the throne, he turned his face toward it, and the video/audio feed came through with a slight crackle.
"Report", came his curt order, to this subordinate at the other end of the connection. The man hesitated slightly, and then said,
"Boss, you’d better eyeball camera 6, it’s a pretty hot picture I think you’ll want to see."
The dominant figure sighed inwardly, wondering why no-one ever gave him a straight sentence with this kind of report. As he turned the main screen on to play the input from camera 6, the thought slipped out of his head, however. A black Porsche was speeding around the warehouse district, as the heli-cam tracked its movements.
"Damn them... they’re here already.." As it rose from the throne and stood, it took on a slightly different shape, and headed for what he liked to call his ‘office’. "You will rue the day you sought me out, Bishop, yesss..."
----------------------------------------
As Jazz took another corner at breakneck speed, Bishop wondered what had gotten into him. He doubted that it was enthusiasm. He decided to voice his concerns.
"Hey, Jazz, aren’t we taking it a little too fast? I don’t know if you got told this at any point, but we have speed limits on this planet!"
Jazz’s speaker system gave voice to his reply to Bishop.
"I got wind of a Decepticon scanning frequency being used on us. That means big trouble for us if I can’t shake our pursuer!"
"I’ll take a look outside!" Yelled Bishop, as he opened the window and leaned out, gun in hand. Looking up, he could see some kind of small flying device, presumably , with a kind of rocket-assisted helicopter propulsion system. "It doesn’t look like those decepticons we saw last time"
"Does it look like a bird? Or a bat?"
"Nope. Looks like some kinda badly made human device"
"Well, damn, I though it was ‘cons! Looks like your guys have taken more stuff from us than we thought!
"Indeed," Said Bishop, as he took aim and blasted the spy device out of the sky.
"What was that for?"
"Just because it isn’t your mortal enemies, doesn’t mean that it isn’t dangerous. And personally," He said, getting fully back inside Jazz, "I hate being watched."
"Whatever you say... Okay, action stations, it’s showtime!"
With that, Jazz accelerated to a speed well outside the range of even a normal Porsche, and did a handbrake turn worthy of the Dukes of Hazard before speeding through the locked doors that now lay in front of him. With an ear-splitting crash, they burst off their reinforced hinges, and flew into the large space that was so conveniently in their path.
Both Jazz and Bishop were equally baffled by the lack of any response. Then the proverbial penny dropped;
It was a trap! But then, a further anticlimax occurred, as nothing happened while Jazz slowed down, and transformed, as Bishop got out. Unholstering his energy rifles, Bishop took a glance around the room. He looked into all the places where he should have been able to see snipers bearing down on them, but saw only empty places. He could see no sign of any exits other than the doors that they had burst through, and anyway, there was no sign of a quick exit. Although all of the equipment was still there, nothing was left as if in a rush. It was as if the occupants had simply disappeared without a trace. Then, looking up as Jazz bid him so, did Bishop see what was the problem.
‘Oh sh*t, what’re we gonna do now?’ Thought Bishop to himself, just before all hell broke loose.
(Please note - I am not even going to try and represent Jazz’s accent. Vocabulary, yes, a bit. But not the accent. Even after thinking about it loads, I decided that it wasn’t worth it, and would probably detract from the story as I screwed it up. My apologies to all of those who miss the southern sounds of Scatman Crothers, but I’m not going to. Right, on with the story.....)
In almost the tales of all worlds, there is a hero, and there is a villain. It is often so that the line between the two is very blurred. Indeed, often so thin is the line that each often finds his or her self doing things that would not fit the stereotype. One such case is now.....
"ALRIGHT JAZZ, FLOOR IT!" Bishop yelled, as he ran towards the black Porsche parked on the sidewalk in front of him. This might have seemed odd to an onlooker, as there was no driver. But at this point in time, there were no onlookers, nor did the lack of a driver matter. As soon as Bishop was inside the door and bullets started to fly, the Porsche had begun to speed away, as Bishop lay across the front seats, out of breath.
"So I take it that they said no?" came a voice from the speakers of the car.
"You got that right," said Bishop, catching his breath. He checked to see if he’d been shot by the veritable wall of lead that had been thrown at him. Seeing that all was well, he twisted round, and grasped the steering wheel, in order to make it look as if he were driving.
Jazz made what could be considered a robotic sigh. "I take it you got what you went for?" Jazz may be becoming used to Bishop’s methods. However, as an Autobot, he didn’t appreciate the danger that Bishop was exposing himself, and others, to. The fact that he was opposed to Bishop’s theft of the data they required also had some bearing on this.
Bishop, on the other hand, had no problem with either of those factors. Raised as he was, he’d almost never had respite from danger. This time, his methods had brought him success.
"Indeed." He raised a small disk into the light. "Can you have a look for me, check it didn’t get damaged?"
"Sure thing." With that, Jazz’s CD player tray popped out, and Bishop put the disk into it. Where a normal CD player would be damaged by the data contained on a CDROM, Jazz was fully capable of understanding the sound that came out and translating it.
"Woah! We’ve struck paydirt!" came the cry from Jazz’s speakers, as he read the disk. "This has information for finding each major gang in the area! Including Downshift’s bunch."
"In that case, I think we know where we’ve got to go next. Where is it?"
"Hold it, we don’t even have a plan yet. With some of the guns I’ve seen these guys pack, even I don’t want to go in there without some idea about what to do."
"Then here’s the plan - you drive us in, when I get out, you transform. I hope that’ll scare enough of them away so that we can get to Downshift without much trouble."
Jazz was still unsure. He lacked Prowl’s logical tactical genius, but he wasn’t Autobot second in command for nothing. As a member of the Autobot High command, he’d seen worse plans, but then again, he didn’t like going in with so many variables. All they knew was that Downshift had holed up in an old warehouse with a gang called the ‘Morbid Victors’. ‘As seems to be the fashion for this world’s villains’ he thought, as an aside.
"I thought you’d be more enthusiastic... He is your comrade, after all.."
"I am, man, but we need to be careful. Prowl and the other ‘Bots’d rather we came back empty handed, than not at all."
"Then what about getting some backup?"
"Nothing doing Bish li’ll buddy, word from HQ says that we’re spread pretty thin on the ground here." (see almost every other title for details J Mike)
"Fine.. then we go ahead as planned...."
Jazz, stuck for an idea better than Bishop’s, had no choice but to agree.
----------------------------------------
Meanwhile, in a dark secluded corner of an abandoned warehouse, something is stirring. It snaps into consciousness like a sword out of its sheathe, and with all the inherent dangers. Unbeknownst to the ‘Morbid Victors’, the current inhabitants of said warehouse, its gold and black personage slowly starts to infiltrate the walls, the floors, and the very entirety of the Warehouse, waiting for the next card of fate to be played.
----------------------------------------
In the selfsame warehouse, a being sits on his throne. This is no throne like for a king of ages past, however. This throne was one of technology, and signified the power of it’s occupant...
As a viewscreen flipped out of one of the arms of the throne, he turned his face toward it, and the video/audio feed came through with a slight crackle.
"Report", came his curt order, to this subordinate at the other end of the connection. The man hesitated slightly, and then said,
"Boss, you’d better eyeball camera 6, it’s a pretty hot picture I think you’ll want to see."
The dominant figure sighed inwardly, wondering why no-one ever gave him a straight sentence with this kind of report. As he turned the main screen on to play the input from camera 6, the thought slipped out of his head, however. A black Porsche was speeding around the warehouse district, as the heli-cam tracked its movements.
"Damn them... they’re here already.." As it rose from the throne and stood, it took on a slightly different shape, and headed for what he liked to call his ‘office’. "You will rue the day you sought me out, Bishop, yesss..."
----------------------------------------
As Jazz took another corner at breakneck speed, Bishop wondered what had gotten into him. He doubted that it was enthusiasm. He decided to voice his concerns.
"Hey, Jazz, aren’t we taking it a little too fast? I don’t know if you got told this at any point, but we have speed limits on this planet!"
Jazz’s speaker system gave voice to his reply to Bishop.
"I got wind of a Decepticon scanning frequency being used on us. That means big trouble for us if I can’t shake our pursuer!"
"I’ll take a look outside!" Yelled Bishop, as he opened the window and leaned out, gun in hand. Looking up, he could see some kind of small flying device, presumably , with a kind of rocket-assisted helicopter propulsion system. "It doesn’t look like those decepticons we saw last time"
"Does it look like a bird? Or a bat?"
"Nope. Looks like some kinda badly made human device"
"Well, damn, I though it was ‘cons! Looks like your guys have taken more stuff from us than we thought!
"Indeed," Said Bishop, as he took aim and blasted the spy device out of the sky.
"What was that for?"
"Just because it isn’t your mortal enemies, doesn’t mean that it isn’t dangerous. And personally," He said, getting fully back inside Jazz, "I hate being watched."
"Whatever you say... Okay, action stations, it’s showtime!"
With that, Jazz accelerated to a speed well outside the range of even a normal Porsche, and did a handbrake turn worthy of the Dukes of Hazard before speeding through the locked doors that now lay in front of him. With an ear-splitting crash, they burst off their reinforced hinges, and flew into the large space that was so conveniently in their path.
Both Jazz and Bishop were equally baffled by the lack of any response. Then the proverbial penny dropped;
It was a trap! But then, a further anticlimax occurred, as nothing happened while Jazz slowed down, and transformed, as Bishop got out. Unholstering his energy rifles, Bishop took a glance around the room. He looked into all the places where he should have been able to see snipers bearing down on them, but saw only empty places. He could see no sign of any exits other than the doors that they had burst through, and anyway, there was no sign of a quick exit. Although all of the equipment was still there, nothing was left as if in a rush. It was as if the occupants had simply disappeared without a trace. Then, looking up as Jazz bid him so, did Bishop see what was the problem.
‘Oh sh*t, what’re we gonna do now?’ Thought Bishop to himself, just before all hell broke loose.
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