Beast Wars: Legacies

By: Michael

Disclaimer: <Insert witty comment about how Beast Wars and Transformers don't belong to me>

 Prologue:

 One year ago, in the aftermath of the revolution against Maximus....

"I am most displeased with you, generals," rumbled the ghastly head of Unicron that once again floated above the cauldron built to contain his spark.

"Yes, my lord," said Cicadacon who stood forth, "And I take full responsibility for everything that has happened.  I ask that you bring forth the entire weight of your punishment onto me instead General Seaclamp or General Ramhorn."

"At ease, General Cicadacon," said Unicron mysteriously, "I am well aware that you are not to blame for the incompetence of General Ramhorn!"

"But master!" cried Ramhorn who dropped to his knees, "I truly did not mean to cause that accident!  If it would help, possess me instead to fulfill your destiny!"

"I think not!" roared Unicron as his eyes flared a glowing green.  In an instant, General Ramhorn felt an intense pain surge through his body.  He fell to the floor screaming for what seemed like mega-cycles to him, but in actuality, were really just five cycles.

"Despite General Ramhorn's foolishness..." spoke Unicron glaring at the unconscious Ramhorn, "The possession of the Transmetal II, as well as the draining of the Transmetal X Driver, did, in fact, replenish some of my power."

"Enough power to conquer Cybertron, my lord?" asked Seaclamp.

"Not quite," explained Unicron, "Though I have regained some of my strength, it will take as long as a Cybertronian stellar cycle to fully gain back what was rightfully mine!  Until then, I will require the sparks of both Maximals and Predacons to feed upon!"

"It shall be done, your excellency!" cried Seaclamp, "With Maximus Primal out of the way, we may call forth the Shadow Walkers once more to do your bidding!"

"As for you, General Cicadacon," said Unicron, turning to face the figurehead of the Tripredacus Council, "Your selflessness does you credit!  When the time comes for my ascension, you will be rewarded bountifully!"

"Yes, master," said Cicadacon who bowed humbly before the apparition.

"As for now," stated Unicron, "Call forth the remaining Shadow Walkers!"

From out of the darkness, appeared 37 cloaked figures, each individual slightly different from the other, but all cloaked in dark rags that covered their whole bodies, nevertheless.  Finally, the 38th member walked out.  He was their leader.

"Greetings, General Seaclamp," he said in a light, Eastern European accent, with a tinge of Romanian.

"Greetings, Count Chiroptera," welcomed General Seaclamp, "I trust that your skills, as well as the skills of your warriors, have not become rusty over the past three years you went into hiding?"

"Barely," said the dark figure as he narrowed his malevolent yellow eyes.

"You know the orders, then?" asked Seaclamp.

"I am ignorant of such things," said Count Chiroptera, "That is why I humbly wait upon you to enlighten me."

Seaclamp certainly did not like the tone in the Count's voice but he continued on.

"As you can see," said Seaclamp, gesturing towards Unicron's spirit, "Our resurrected master requires the living sparks of Transformers in order to reach his full potential!  You must scour the planet to find such sparks.  However, due to the change of government on Cybertron, we will not be able to cover up for you.  You must locate your prey within areas such as the slums where the Cybertronian media will be less likely to discover your actions.  It is unfortunate, but we live in perilous times."

"Ah," said the Count patronizingly, "I see that the Tripredacus Council has fallen out of favor with the common people!" 

Seaclamp noticed the anger on Cicadacon's face.  He quickly put his hand on Cicadacon's arm before the younger Predacon general could reach for his sword.

"You are correct," said Seaclamp painfully, "We have gone into hiding as we are no longer an officially recognized ruling body on Cybertron anymore.  The lower councils have also gone into hiding.  That is why you must be discreet with how you and your assassins hunt!"

"Do not worry," said Count Chiroptera, "Walking into the darkness is what we do best!"

Without another word, Count Chiroptera and his followers melded back into the shadows as silently as they appeared.

"General Seaclamp," said Cicadacon finally, "With all due respect, I have a nagging feeling that these Shadow Walkers cannot be trusted."

"I realize this, General Cicadacon," replied Seaclamp, "But they are a necessary evil in our fight to bring our master back from the dead once and for all.  Until our master has been fully resurrected, they will be utilized!"

"I hope you've made the right decision..." said Cicadacon, looking into the depths of space with dark expression on his face, "But I fear, deep down, that we can no longer control them."

The Present.

Over a year had passed since the defeat of Maximus Primal and his Vehicon armies.  Our heroes had moved on with their lives in many ways.  One of them, in particular, had managed to create a new life without the woes of the past.

Waspinator soared through the air with his package.  He felt the wind in his face as he flew towards a nearby building.

He had finally found a career as a delivery 'bot, due to his flying abilities.  It was not as impressive of a career as what some of his friends had gotten after the war but his needs were modest and this delivery service provided him with his basic living requirements as well as a few extra bonuses every now and then.

Finally, he landed on a platform to deliver the package.  "Waspinator love his life," he thought happily after delivering the valuables, "Waspinator wonder how his friends are doing?"

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Police chief Depthcharge glared at the evidence presented before him.

"So far, the only evidence we have with us are the slash marks across the victims' bodies," said his lieutenant, "All we know is that these assailants don't use firearms or energy weapons."

"But how can this be?" asked Depthcharge, "What kind of psychopaths would want to steal the sparks of both Maximal and Predacon citizens?  Surely not Maximus or a small remainder of his armies..."

"I don't think so..." said the lieutenant nervously, "S-Some say it's the work of the Shadow Walkers..."

"But they're just an urban myth," replied Depthcharge skeptically, "How can we be sure that a few slashes are made by some secret society?"

"Some citizens claimed to have seen shadowy figures moving about the slums of Cybertron at night, sir," said his lieutenant.

"Hmm," thought Depthcharge, "Truth be told, from that I've seen with Dinobot, they may indeed be real!  I'll have to investigate these claims on my own time."

Finally, he decided to take the evidence to the lab.  "You're dismissed, lieutenant," said Depthcharge, "Go home and get some rest."

His lieutenant bowed and left the room.  In a few cycles, Depthcharge moved the body towards the laboratory.

Wearing his microscope goggles, Depthcharge zoomed in on the slash marks of the body on the table.

"What's this?" he thought, "There are traces of cyber-venom on these marks!  And this isn't just any normal kind of cyber-venom either.  I'll have to scan them further!"

He took a sample of the cyber-venom towards a more powerful electron-microscope.

"Once I get enough evidence to present to the Council, I'll be able to transfer my night shifts towards the slums," said Depthcharge to himself, "And once I do that, I'll put a stop to those bastards myself!"

Cheetor laid across his bed with his Transformers Anatomy and Physiology 120 electro-pad.  College had certainly been a good experience for him for the one year he had been there.  There were now three more years left before he could get his degree in Environmental and Exploratory Sciences.

Casually flipping his electro-pad, Cheetor's eyes landed on one chapter that caught his interest.

"Hmm, this might explain a few things to me," he thought as he read on.

Chapter 4: A History to the Biology of Maximals and Predacons

Ever since our ancestors, the Autobots and Decepticons converted their bodies into the more commonly known Maximals and Predacons, most of the populace has been aware of the changes that took place.

To begin, the creation of the spark itself was a direct result.  It was created to house parts of the core-conscious as well as process energon more efficiently and at a cleaner, more environmental-friendly rate.  Another advantage the spark gave the average Transformer was more durability and increased chances of survival against death.  Before the creation of the spark, Transformers often died grisly deaths in combat.  However, the spark gave the Transformer an added bonus, the ability to go into stasis-lock, a form of unconsciousness or sleep-state due to extensive damage.  As long as the spark itself was not destroyed, the body of a battered Maximal or Predacon could be repaired more efficiently and in a sense, they could be "brought back" to life.  Everything that a Maximal or Predacon was, including his beliefs, his personality, his character, and his emotions, became contained within the spark.

However, creation of the spark did include several side effects.  Increased durability and chances of survival also took a different toll.  From then on, Maximals and Predacons lived shorter lives than that of their ancestors as a result of smaller bodies that could not stand the ravages of time as well as the larger robotic forms, which could process far more energon. .

Because of this, Predacon and Maximal bodies could wither away with time like many organic creatures in the universe, except in their case, rust on the body and deterioration of the spark were signs of old age instead of the wrinkles and sagging faces of many organics.  The average life expectancy now of most Transformers is 80 years, as it differs for both Maximals and Predacons.  Maximals, on one hand, now have an average life expectancy of 90 years while Predacons, on the other hand, have a life expectancy of only 60 years.  One could argue that the shorter life span of Predacons is a result of the disenfranchisement of the race due to Maximal prejudice, which keeps them segregated in slums and prevents them from attaining more higher-paying jobs.  Also, inner-city violence between warring Predacon groups is also a possible reason for their shortened life-spans.

With the creation of Maximals and Predacons, there came another side-effect, which today, is still a hotly debated issue amongst scientists, hard-liner conservatives, and many politicians. 

That side-effect, was the ability to reproduce sexually, like many organic creatures.  In a sense, two Transformers could be joined together to produce a third spark, their child, or to combine their sparks to become one, also their child.

"We are not organics!" cried Dr. Gamma, a hard-liner who has opposed this new change in Transformer biology, "We will continue to work until the day we find a way to eliminate this disgusting curse from our races!"

Also, another lesser talked about side effect is the ability to gain the transformation mode of an organic from other planets, although the results may vary, with beast modes being either undersized or oversized.  In some instances, where the robot has about the appropriate mass as the organic, along with the sufficient body length, the beast mode will turn out correctly.

It seemed that in exchange for adaptations to a new environment of limited energon resources, natural deaths were now part of the Transformer race.  As soon as a body had contaminated to the point of death, the spark would then leave its host to ascend to the Matrix... or the Pit.  Also, a wider range of emotions became available to the Transformer race.  For example, tear ducts had been installed into both Maximals and Predacons, a trait once unavailable to the Autobots and Decepticons.

Sleep became another side-effect of converting to Maximal or Predacon bodies because to rejuvinate the body, the electrons contained in the spark also have properties of....

Cheetor shut his pad as a beeping from his room's com-link startled him. 

<"Cheetor!"> said the feminine voice, <"I'm just giving you a beep about our little get date tonight!">

"Sure thing," said Cheetor, "I'll meet you at the energon cafe later tonight, Callisto."

<"See you there!"> replied the voice cheerfully and cut the connection.

"Femme-bots!" thought Cheetor, "They're really not all they're cracked up to be!"

He had found out the hard way after a year of femmes following him around, trying to get their chance to talk to the leader of the rebellion against Maximus Primal who happened to be attending their very own academy!

But aside from that, Cheetor's life was rolling along smoothly.  He had not had contact with any of his comrades for almost a year, except for Rhinox, whom he visited every now and then, as well as Rattrap.

After the battle against Maximus, the Cybertronian media decided to dub him and his friends as the, "Beast Warriors."  Not

that the name really bothered Cheetor much but now, it was becoming a trend for some of the younger 'bots on the planet to get beast modes from genetics laboratories on the planet, in hopes of emulating him and the Axalon crew.

Cheetor looked at his chronometer.  It was almost time for him to meet Callisto.  Sighing slightly, Cheetor closed his electro-pad and left to go on their date.

Even if he knew little of what the future held, Cheetor was certainly clear that trials and tribulations for him and his friends were yet to come...

The Beginning.