Transformers: Unicron Apocalypse

Deep within the void of space, a pair of maximal explorers investigate an ancient space station. A massive structure orbiting around a broken husk of a planet. Though it looks far more like a temple or cathedral than any sort of space craft. With towering spires and incredible archways, it was like a castle among the stars.

The two explorers cautiously make their way through the cavernous interior of the station. A white, grey, and gold rabbit bot takes the lead, while her orange and white armadillo moded partner reluctantly follows. Soon they enter an immense central chamber. A circular platform is at the center, spotlighted by dim star light from above. The walls of the chamber were covered completely in clockwork and time pieces. All still functioning after so many millions of years. The chamber was filled with the echoes of a thousand tics and tocs. The walls were alive with shuddering gears and twitching clock hands.

“What is this place…” The rabbit bot pondered as she looked around the chamber. The very next moment the clocks all struck twelve, and the chamber was filled with countless bells and chimes. A bright green light suddenly appeared over the central platform, though only for a moment. In a sudden and powerful burst of energy the light was replaced by a towering figure. An ancient cybertronian, who seemed to be made up of just as much clockwork as the walls around them.

“Greetings. I am Vector Prime. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The old bot said calmly. “Its been more than an age or two since the last time I’ve had company. I have yet to meet any of your kind. Though I must admit you are much smaller than my last visitors. Why you’re no taller than Safeguard.” He remarked.

“Hold on, Vector Prime? As in one of the original 13 Primes?” Said the armadillo bot, barely able to believe what was happening.

“The one and only.” Vector Prime said confidently. “Now tell me, who might you be?”

The rabbit bot stepped forward. “My name is Luckyfoot, and this is my partner Splitshell. We’re maximal explorers from Cybertron. We heard reports of an ancient space station out in this sector and had to give it a look. Hoping to make some new finds, real major discoveries. Stuff for the history books you know? But this… its more than we were expecting to say the least.”

The old Prime smiled. “Well, if it is history you’re looking for, then I can certainly provide it. I have watched over space and time for several eons, existing outside of the flow of time itself. My circuits may be old, but my memory is as sharp as ever. If you wish to learn more of your history, of the ancient past of Cybertron, then I would be happy to provide.”

Luckyfoot could hardly contain her excitement. She eagerly hopped from one foot to the other, amazed by the opportunity before her. “Of course! That would be amazing!”

“Excellent! Perhaps then, I shall begin with a story. A particularly favorite memory of mine.” The ancient time keeper sat down on his platform. He looked down to the two maximals, who were both still completely star-struck. “Come now, I promise you I won’t bite. It would be rather difficult for me to tell my tale from across the room.”

The two explorers quickly walk up to the Prime. Even sitting down he still towered over them. They each took a seat on the floor, and waited for Vector Prime to begin his story.

“Now, allow me to take you to a time long past. A time when we Primes were alive and well, and the Cybertronian Imperium thrived. This is a story of grand adventure and daring action. When a band of unlikely heroes put their lives on the line to save all of creation itself. When the monster planet Unicron, nearly came to live again…”


It was the Golden Age of Cybertron. Within the capital city of Genesis, a grand celebration was being held. It was the Allspark Festival. An annual holiday, held in anniversary not only of Unicron’s defeat, but of the creation of the Well of Allsparks as well. It was a time of high spirits and brotherhood. When countless bots from many worlds came together to celebrate and have fun.

There were many places within the city one could spend their time. There was Gravitus Memorial Park. A technorganic forest with open clearings and stone paths. Entertainers and musicians were crowded among the trees, putting on grand performances. Among them was Liege Maximo, telling exciting fantasy tales of adventure and treasure hunting. He used his powers of illusion to bring his stories to life, giving his audience a show they would never forget.

Alchemist’s Old Oilhouse was packed with patrons. The alchemic Prime had dropped his prices greatly in honor of the holiday, practically giving drinks away for free. And there were few who weren’t interested in getting in on the deal.

Many bots gathered within the Hall of Records. Taking the special occasion as a time to learn about their history, or perhaps other parts of the universe around them. Alpha Trion stood in the library’s large entry hall, excitedly spouting off endless facts and information to whoever would listen.

Combat rings had been set up within the residential district, where bots could challenge one another and make performances of their fighting prowess. While many bots came to fight, many more were there to watch and cheer from the side lines. Among them were Nexus Prime and Micronus Prime, both watching the fighters with casual interest.

And finally, at the heart of the city, there was the Allspark Temple. A holy place built around the Well of Allsparks. A place where one came to pray to the god Primus, or pay respects to a lost loved one. There were not many individuals gathered here today, but there was still more than a few. Vector Prime was one of them, standing at the Well’s edge in quiet contemplation.

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In the Allspark Temple, Bulwark sits cross-legged before an altar in quiet meditation. His head is bowed, his eyes closed, and his hands rest upon his thighs. A soft yellow light flickers within the engine on his back, and his sword rests on the floor beside him.


In Alchemist’s Old Oilhouse, Coppeweb sits by himself at a table tucked away in a corner, a half-empty glass of engex on the table by his right primary hand. His left hand pokes and swipes at an array of holograms projected from an emitter in one of his secondary arms. The projections are schematics of various weapons, tools, and starships- all of his design. He picks out one schematic at a time, and his fingers dance across the image as he revises the design or writes notes beside it. Normally, he does this kind of work in the privacy of his home, but today is of course a special occasion. He couldn’t stay inside all day on the birthday of his entire species.

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Nearby an older looking mage sat in silence. He was a predominantly brown bot with hints of green. Twisting metal spikes were weaved together, resembling tree roots. They extended from his shoulders and hips. He had a long and tired looking face.

In front of him was what looked to be a small monument he has assembled. Made from small tree branches and leaves. Purely organic ones at that. The old bot didn’t say anything, though he clearly looked troubled.

“Ooh, that one looks real good!” A bot remarked at one of Coppeweb’s designs. He was predominantly dark red with accents of gunmetal, as well as gold trim around his armor. Most interestingly were his eyes, or rather lack thereof. Instead of standard eyes, he had six round optic lenses of various sizes. All of them were a teal blue in color.

“My name’s Crosswire. Mind if I sit here?” He asked.

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Dr. Long Hoe, for his part, was flipping through a wide assortments of tomes in the Hall of Records. the Mad doctor visited here often, always looking for new clues to improve his mixtures. Today he was flipping through various mechanimal species and cross-referencing their known allergies with a book of chemical compounds and a list of legally acquirable chemicals. Most concerning, was the large book on the mechanics of large-scale water hoses and crop-dusting aircraft, currently open to the average corrosion rates of the nozzles.

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Bulwark rises, his meditations complete, and he takes notice of the mage beside him. Leaving his sword on the floor, he takes a step closer to the other man.

“Forgive me, good man,” he says quietly as he kneels, “but I am compelled to ask: what is troubling you?”


“I don’t mind,” Coppeweb says. He enlarges the image that had caught the stranger’s eye: a schematic of a deep space exploration vessel. It is a strange design, however, appearing to lack many of the instruments that are common on such ships. There are also no deck plans included in the hologram, only specifications for individual rooms and stations.

“I call it Sojourner,” Coppeweb tells the stranger. “It’s a personal project of mine- all of them are, actually.”

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Dr. Long-Hoe would feel a light tap on his shoulder from behind.

“Excuse me. I don’t mean to intrude, but might I ask what you’re researching for?” Asked what sounded like an old and wise voice.

Behind the mad doctor was none other than the supreme scholar and archivest himself, Alpha Trion.

By his side was a somewhat smaller and meek looking bot. His armor was a similar violet to the Prime, though a little more red in hue. His accents where in a light-gunmetal, and his details were in a deep metallic blue color. He looked at the artificer with book and quill in hand. Though he seemed a bit nervous.

“Oh, nothing much. I’m paying my respects to someone I was… very close to. I lost her many years ago during the last war with the Quintessons. Every year since I’ve made a point of coming here to remember her.” The mage answered solemnly.

“Fascinating. Does it do anything special?” Crosswire asked.

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“ah! Yes, Yes lord Prime, gladly!” he said, happily showing the prime what he was reading “i was reading up on the Cog Weevil! Had a nasty infestation on one of the colonies, I’m sure you of all are aware, and they I was asked by the farmers to develop a more effective pesticide!” he spoke rapidly, clealr happy to speak of his subject “Nasty creatures they are, eat everything they see and leave nothing behind. As bad as techno-locusts! Now, i think I’ve the proper mixture made, but I need to figure out how much to dilute it so it doesn’t destroy their spray nozzles! Made that mistake in the past.”

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“I see. Quite the undertaking indeed. It’s good to see someone take such pride in a task most others would hesitate to do themselves.” Alpha Trion happily remarked.

“A-and you’ve developed all of this on your own?” The smaller bot asked nervously.

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“well, not entirely, some of it is based on my previous work fighting the foul Cyber Locusts, but none of it would be possible without the great works of Dr. Hyper-brew and his work in the efficient blending of chemicals, and of course Lord Alchemist Prime and his work in well, inventing chemistry itself!” He explained to the aid, more than happy to talk about his work, oblivious to the smaller bots clear discomfort. “would you like a demonstration? I have a specimen here!” He reaches to his side and holds up a small cage with an afore mentioned Cog Weevil, it’s long proboscis poking the the air.

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“Eep!” The smaller bot jumped back as he revealed the cog-weevil. Alpha Trion meanwhile leaned in to take a closer look at the creature.

“Fascinating little thing.” He remarked. The Prime stood back up and looked down to the book in his hand. The dense journal opened on its own, and its pages rapidly fluttered past. Alpha Trion put his finger down, stopping the book on one particular page. He ran his finger down the page as he read over several entries.

“Cave-Lanturn, clock-serpent, cog-bear… hm. No cog-weevil. It would seem such a specemin is missing from my personal wildlife archive. If you are willing, I would like to take this creature off your hands so I can ammend this oversight of mine.”

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“Well… i was going to test on it, but I can get another! Please, enjoy!” he says, handing the Prime the cage. “be careful if you let him out, he’ll gladly chew his way through whole shelves, if that happens, take this.” he hands the Prime a small vial of purple liquid “This will kill the little bugger in seconds, it does make a nasty odor though. Another kink to work out with the formula, of course.”

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Alpha Trion takes both the cage and the vial from the artificer. Then with a snap of his fingers, both objects seemed to vanish into thin air.

“Thank you kindly.” He said pleasantly. “Tell me, what is your name? I’d like to know so that I may properly label your contribution.”

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“I would be honored, Lord Prime, I am known as Dr. Long-Hoe, at least by those who don’t call me a madman.”

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Bulwark nods in understanding, and looks down at the small totem in front of the mage. “I’m sure that pleases her greatly,” he says kindly. “Who was she, may I ask? What was she like?”


“Much of the ship is- would be made of sentio metallico,” Coppeweb explains. He runs a finger over a block of equations in the hologram, highlighting several incomplete alchemical formulas relating to the shaping of the living metal.

“The crew would use an interface to alter the ship’s interior layout, generating rooms and equipment as needed,” Coppeweb continues. "They could either choose from pre-made designs encoded into the living metal, such as these ones here, or they could shape the material manually.

“…That’s the ideal, anyway,” he sighs. His formulas for the processes are incomplete. “I still don’t-… the project is still early in development.”

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Alpha Trion scribbled into his journal. “Cog-weevil, provided by Dr. Long-Hoe. There!” He quickly snapped the book shut and held it under his arm. “Thank you again for your contribution.”

“How often do you have to deal with pests like that?” Asked the smaller bot.

“A ship made entirely of living metal. What a concept!” Crosswire said enthusiastically. “Though tackling a project of this scale on your own would be quite the challenge. Have you considered finding a sorcerer mage to work with? I imagine that would make things significantly easier.”

“Her name was Sagebrush. She was my conjux. The most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. She always had a way of finding the bright side out of any situation. The kind of person you just couldn’t be upset around.” The mage said. His tone noticeably picked up as he reflected back on fond memories.

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The air of the residential district was filled with thrill and excitement of the bots cheering for the fighters in the rings. Only one person stood out in the crowd. Breakpoint stuck the sharp point of her halberd in the ground and was leaning on it, watching the fight that unfolded before her eyes with a complete lack of interest. Her face showed no emotion, yet it still could be felt that she was mildly disappointed.

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“Hey, why the long face? Don’t you know this is a party?” Asked one bot near her. His body had the plated armor design typical of the knights of Cybrtron. What particularly stood out were his exceptionally broad shoulders, and the four long helicopter blades that protruded from each of his forearms, reaching almost as far up as his shoulder.

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“I used to enjoy the thrill of these fights when I was young. Came here today to try to relive that experience as an observer… all I can say is I feel nothing”

Breakpoint shifted her gaze from the ring to the bot talking to her and examined his appearance with her single eye. For a brief second her facial expression changed from that of utter apathy to slight concern, and then immediately went back to its normal state.

“You are a knight, aren’t you?” She asked him in her usual deep monotone voice. Her lips curled into a slight weird smile:
“What made you join that guild?”

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Near the fighting rings, a black-armored Cybertronian is standing, leaning on an intricately decorated staff, as he watches the fights. His eyes show a flicker of interest as he sees several other Knights in the area, among them Breakpoint. Standing up, he slings his staff over his shoulder, where it connects to a backpack-like object, forming the turret of a military vehicle. As he walks towards everyone else, he notices a brown-armored Knight in conversation with another, with the latter seemingly confused about something.

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In the marketplace, a hammer-toting lightly armored Junkion was arguing with a shopkeeper, “sir, this is pure residuum, you gotta agree, even this little chunk has gotta be worth something, right?” He asks, bringing out a big bag of scraps, “come on, let’s make a deal.”

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