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Post by Deleted on Mar 24, 2018 17:30:40 GMT
Characters: Open to all Autobots and Decepticons Location: Simanzi, Cybertron Content Warnings: Extreme Violence Plot Summary: The single most devastating battle of the entire Cybertronian Civil War
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Post by Deleted on Mar 24, 2018 18:38:36 GMT
Simanzi, millions of years ago...
Through a tangled mess of subterranean tunnels, subsectors and catacombs, an eerie, tense quiet reigned. The Crucible was hard at work at whatever infernal task it had been designed and built to do, though there wasn't a single spark living or dead that could have professed to have known the truth. Despite repeated attempts by the Decepticons above ground to determine just what made the colossal monstrosity tick, the machine had afforded them no answers. It simply sat in the center of what was formerly Cybertron's polar district, working away towards some unknowable end.
The Crucible was unnatural. For a machine stretching out dozens, perhaps even hundreds of kilometers below ground, it was hauntingly silent inside. The Crucible was not silent because it was not moving; in fact it hadn't ever stopped moving. Millions of strange machines, devices and subsystems were furiously toiling away in the dark, ripping any Autobot or Decepticon unlucky enough to fall below ground to shreds, and then, doing something with them. Perhaps not even the Crucible knew what it was doing, but it knew that whatever it was, it needed to continue.
It wasn't a loud noise or sudden disturbance that woke Steamhammer, rather it was the deafening silence. Power flooded back into his systems after being held back for an indeterminate amount of time. The hulking Constructicon's body twitched itself awake, breaking the roaring quiet as it did so. His head hurt terribly, and his mouth tasted of decayed energon. His memory betrayed him as to how he'd landed in... wherever he was. As he pushed himself back to his feet he cautiously examined his surroundings.
Wherever Steamhammer was, it was built to accommodate somebody of his stature, which he couldn't say about most places he visited. The room itself was incredibly active, filled with countless devices comprised of dozens of moving parts, of which the likes of Steamer had never seen before. They were all deathly silent, as if all the sound in the room was being sucked away into a void. His own footsteps produced sound however, if only to indicate that he wasn't completely deaf or insane.
Steamhammer would search the room for another two hours, being led to believe in his mind that he had only been walking for two minutes. He could find no way to exit the room, because the only exit was through the Core, in the center of the room. He looked upon it. He had built it, he suddenly remembered. Just what it was, he hadn't the faintest idea. It reminded him that it hurt to look directly at it, or even to acknowledge it. The Core wasn't clouded, cloaked or invisible though; Steamhammer was perfectly able to perceive it, and yet his mind couldn't comprehend it.
Instinctively, he reached out to touch it. Just as his hand crossed the Core's threshold, he remembered again. We were sent to Simanzi, to build a weapon... for Megatron. The Crucible... is not the weapon. The Crucible is the Factory, the Factory to build the weapons. He stopped, quickly realizing that the memory was not his. Steamhammer drew back from the Core, pressing his hands to the side of his head, "W-we... we found something, or... did something find us?" he said, talking to nobody. Beginning to think more clearly, he had been speaking it aloud to have his own thoughts take precedence in his mind over the Core's "thoughts".
A chunk of metal dislodged itself from the rafters of the chamber, striking Steamhammer in the head. It hardly made a dent, though it was effective in showing him the situation outside of the Crucible. These walls were sturdy, he thought, It would take more than a few siege guns to penetrate the complex, and even then they would be firing for months. The Decepticon frantically searched his mind as to how he even knew any of this, yet found no clues. The only thing he knew was that somebody was attacking whatever the hell he was inside of, and that it'd be a terrible idea to remain.
He needed to leave, and the only way to do that was by going through the way he'd arrived. Steamhammer walked into the Core again, and found himself being transported through the Crucible. His optics picked up absolutely nothing, the only indication that he wasn't dead was his hearing. The rapid whooshing of air coupled with the distant sound of quite possibly thousands of screaming voices was his only companion, though they didn't do much to convince him that he was still alive.
The blank nothingness clouding his vision was broken by the appearance of a single beam of light, which quickly opened up as a set of sliding bulkhead doors to the outside. Steamhammer was propelled through the opening by some unseen force, causing him to tumble down the side of a muddy, debris filled slope. He quickly caught the fact that he was sliding down into a lake of some kind, and dug his massive arm into the side of the ridge to slow his descent.
The site before him was almost too magnificent and terrifying to behold. Behind him sat a towering spire, stretching miles up into the air, firing back at the dozens of Autobot Seeker's attempting to topple it. Around the massive tower sat six smaller versions of the first, arrayed around it in a hexagonal pattern. From the top of each tower shot a bolt of energy, aimed towards what could only be an energy collector situated at the top of the main spire. But it was the imagery around the tower that was the most prolific.
It was complete and utter devastation...
Thousands upon thousands of Cybertronians engaged in battle for hundreds of kilometers around in every direction. The skies were choked full of Seekers ripping themselves apart, as well as the forces on the ground. It was madness. Steamhammer's ears continued to ring, filled with the sounds of dozens of long-range guns firing in successive patterns, their shells lighting up the battlefield like a deadly fireworks display. But the ground. Around all of the conflict was a strange, 'goop'. It was a river of this odd substance that Steamer had very nearly fallen into, though it looked more akin to an ocean. It looked like molten plastic and melted-then-cooled liquid metal, oily and black. It was flowing around everything, consuming the land itself, as well as the hundreds of dead forms that floated through it. It was only matched by the sky, thundering and violent.
It was too much for Steamhammer, who sat back atop the ridge, simply watching with horror and intrigue at just what the Crucible had created.
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