Transformers fanfic (www.gazliter.co.uk)

The City That Slept
By Mark Stevenson

Metroplex sleeps...

Meshed within over seven thousand miles of cable, buried deep beneath hundreds of tonnes of metal, he rests. In his unwaking slumber he powers the spires of Autobot City: Earth, on the surface above. His mind is the core of it's supercomputer, holder of it's vast memory banks and electronic archives; his body the engine of it's transformation to a battlestation in times of danger; and if all else fails, he can awaken once more to rise as the last line of defence. Nothing happens in the city without his participation, from the opening of a maintenance hatch to the repelling of a full-scale invasion force. Most Autobots think his functions are automatic, unconscious. They are wrong. For, alone in his iron tomb, Metroplex dreams.

Not in the way that other beings dream, escaping as they do from reality to a fantasy world. In the years of his rest he has long since moved beyond such random flights of fancy. In his 'dreams' Metroplex has fashioned his own reality. With the vast body of the Autobot datafiles at his disposal, he is able to explore every detail of Transformer history, or learn of every known world and race in the galaxy that his people have encountered, or converse with AI projections of the finest minds the Autobots have known. Many times has he walked with Optimus Prime, Prime Nova, Triax or Xaaron through the gleaming streets of ancient Cybertron, before it was ravaged by aeons of senseless warfare. He has very little to do besides think, explore the vast ROM within his mind. And Metroplex remembers...

He remembers his first, startling moments of life, lying amongst the foundations of what would become the city. He remembers feeling the first vast waves of power coursing through his gargantuan body, and knowing in that same instant that the terrible power he possessed also brought an awesome responsibility to his peers. In his mind, he sees once more his first sights - the unending blue dome of Earth's skies; the tranquil hillsides around his resting place; and then, standing on an elevated platform at his side, Optimus Prime, holding the life-giving Creation Matrix.

"Greetings, Metroplex," said Prime. "Look well upon this Earth, for it is your home, and as of this moment you are its most powerful defender. No mere machinery could do the task that is required of this installation, and so it is necessary for a living being to become our city. You know as well as I that an awesome burden lies upon your shoulders and the years ahead will be hard and lonely. But, whilst you rest, remember the hundreds of Autobots and millions of humans to whom you are granting continued peace and liberty. For your sacrifice, my friend, we thank you."

Slowly, the mute giant nodded his head once, acknowledging his leader, and then transformed for the first time into the core of Autobot City. As he slowly powered down he fancied that he felt the construction continue around him, sealing him in.

He remembers the first time that Autobot City: Earth came on-line, the sudden feeling of near-omnipresence throughout the complex. It was the first experience of reality Metroplex had had since his activation, many months before. He knew that from this point onwards he was no longer an individual being, but a whole city, and there was more; he found that he was now mentally connected to three other Autobots, individuals who were activated at the same time as the city. He knew instantly that their names were Scamper, Slammer and Six-Gun, that their primary functions were as reconnaissance troops, but they would also serve as technicians, monitoring him both physically and mentally. He knew that, should it be necessary, he could control them all simultaneously, enslaving their bodies. His ingrained Autobot belief in the right of all beings to freedom made him uneasy with this. He decided that it would be better for all of them to allow them to live their own lives. Metroplex doubted that he could ever bring himself to be so manipulative. It was a decision that would ultimately cost Slammer his life.

Time passes...

He remembers the first Decepticon assault; sneaking past his defence grid in one of the Autobots own shuttles. He remembers his hollow frustration at his own inability to react, for the transformation process could only be initiated from the central control room. Even as the process was initiated, he knew that it was too late, that the complex would inevitably be breached; Autobot City: Earth would fall to their age-old enemies.

He remembers the first blip on his long-distance radar - the approach of Optimus Prime's shuttle spreading a wave of hope through his beleaguered circuits. He watched the battle through his remaining Closed Circuit Security cameras, the final battle between Megatron and Prime, the Decepticon retreat, and the fall of his noble leader.

The next memory that rises from his subconscious is almost too painful for Metroplex to access. Through his connection to the life-support system in the Medilab, he felt the last electronic pulses coursing through Prime's internal systems. He saw the sorrow on the faces of the Autobots and humans who surrounded their fallen leader. He remembers feeling Optimus Prime die...

The one who had granted him life now lay dead within his walls. For the first time, Metroplex realised what it truly meant to be an Autobot; forsaking oneself to protect the lives of others, defending the innocent against the forces of oppression. And he knew he had failed to anticipate the enemy's assault, resulting the deaths of many comrades, including the greatest Autobot who ever lived. Fighting down his own remorse, the mind of the city vowed that never again would he let his fellows down as he had on this day. He doubted that he could live with himself if he allowed another such disaster to occur. Metroplex swore that should today's events repeat themselves, he would voluntarily de-activate. If he could not do his duty he should be replaced. Two years later, the unthinkable happened again.

Through the multi-faceted eyes of his security net he watched the Quintesson strike force advance through the complex, slaughtering all in their path. Please, not again! he thought. Once again he had failed, and this time there could be no redemption. He watched in mute horror as Autobot after Autobot was rendered non-functional, blasted or bludgeoned by the invaders. Here a bulkhead was breached, Quintessons pouring through the wreckage with weapons blazing; there a vicious melee claimed another Autobot life. Metroplex remembers feeling nothing but complete numbness.

And then it happened. His mind's gaze was drawn inexorably, as if by some premonition, to the view provided by camera F-047. At a half-destroyed, key intersection of Section F, Slammer was taking cover behind a hastily erected barricade. He fired pulse after pulse towards the oncoming hordes with a shoulder-mounted plasma cannon. Amazingly, he was single-handedly halting their advance.

Metroplex watched with some satisfaction as a Quintesson warrior was blown apart by a plasma blast to the chest. But then, at the edge of his field of vision at the edge of the camera's picture, he glimpsed movement in the shadows to Slammer's right. Pan down, quick zoom; a Quintesson, stealthily creeping through the rubble of a ruined corridor, which had caved in during the initial bombardment. Metroplex saw the curved blade in its clawed hand, knew that Slammer had not noticed its approach above the roar of his own weapon, and decided without a moments hesitation to act. Re-opening his mental links with his bonded partners, Metroplex entered the mind of Slammer and took control.

For the first time in his life he was confused, disoriented; suddenly he was very small, with arms and legs - and in the back of his mind he heard Slammers voice yell, What on Cybertron are you doing? Dumbly, not really sure what was happening, he rose and turned to his right, and stared straight into the eyes of the assassin. Slammers weapon fell from his now limp grasp. Through the camera, and through the eyes of the smaller Autobot, Metroplex watched as the Quintesson brought its sword down, slicing Slammer's head in half and wedging into his chest. Metroplex felt a torrent of blinding pain wash through his systems. Slammer never had a chance to scream, but elsewhere in the city, Six-Gun and Scamper screamed in his stead as the pain flooded into their brains through Metroplex's mind link. Simultaneously, parts of their neural circuitry burned out, and they collapsed into unconsciousness.

And deep within, Metroplex cried out, Not again... Lost deep within his own mind, chronological time slipped away; ceased to have meaning. The giant Autobot's mind, once as calm and implacable as an iceberg, started to buckle beneath the weight of guilt, isolation and madness.

+++?BOOTUP SEQUENCE GAMMA TWO INITIALIZED+++
+++DEFENCE CODE [W.C.S. "ENDGAME"]+++
+++CLEARANCE GRANTED [RPRIME ALPHA ZERO]+++
+++FULL BODILY CONTROL ON-LINE+++
+++DEPLOY_+++

Like a swimmer with lungs bursting for air, he tears his way up through his steel prison. The Enemy stare aghast, disbelieving, as he rises to his full height, towering into the sky. He sees the realisation of their doom etched across their tiny faces. A craft attacks him; he swats it away with one flick of his arm. He sees, beneath him, the crucified Autobots hanging from the walls of the city. He pauses, thoughtfully, for less than a second, and then claims vengeance.

Metroplex watched as the leader of the invaders plunged to his doom from the roof of the central tower. From a distance, he watched the tiny figures of Rodimus Prime and Arcee talk. Arcee walked back into the tower, leaving the young Autobot leader staring thoughtfully into space. Metroplex took a step forward. Slowly, Prime turned to face the giant warrior.

"Hello, Metroplex. I believe you have something on your mind."
Metroplex paused, and then, slowly, he spoke.
"I . . . I HAVE A REQUEST, COMMANDER," he boomed, almost self-consciously, "I - WISH TO BE DEACTIVATED AND REPLACED. I BELIEVE I AM NO LONGER ABLE TO PERFORM MY ALOTTED TASK EFFICIENTLY."
Prime cocked his head quizzically. "Oh, really? And why is that, exactly?"
"I HAVE . . . FAILED, COMMANDER. TWICE, NOW, AUTOBOT CITY: EARTH HAS FALLEN TO OUR ENEMIES. MANY HAVE DIED. THE BLAME FOR ALL THIS MUST REST WITH ME. I AM NOT CAPABLE."

Metroplex was surprised to see a hint of weariness cross Rodimus' face, followed by a slightly wry half-smile. "Oh, Metroplex," Prime sat down facing him, legs dangling over the precipice. "If only you knew how much we have in common, my friend. Ours are the loneliest of tasks. Many times I've wondered why the Matrix chose me to succeed Optimus - and I still don't believe that I can ever truly be the leader that he was. But perhaps I'm not meant to be. Perhaps we shouldn't set ourselves goals that take us away from who we are. Perhaps believing that one can be 'perfect' at what one does can lead us to not caring. And that would be the greatest loss of all."

The Autobot leader looked up, his face sanguine. "For what you do, Metroplex, I doubt there could be a better Autobot. Don't blame yourself for things that have gone wrong - learn from them. Our experiences make us who we are. Your strength, humility, courage, compassion and intelligence make you an example to all of us. It's these things that make you an Autobot. For what it's worth, I am proud to lead this army with troops like you on my side."

Metroplex bowed his head, lost in reflection. A moment passed. "YES... YES, I THINK I AM BEGINNING TO UNDERSTAND NOW. GOODBYE, RODIMUS PRIME - AND THANK-YOU." And then, silently, sombrely, Metroplex climbed down through the freshly torn hole in the city. Back into his resting-place, transforming and powering down, awaiting the inevitable repair crews who would re-connect him and seal him back in his tomb.

Time passes...

Metroplex disengages himself from reminiscence and turns his attention back to his security net, once more seeing the city through a thousand eyes - Guards, patrolling; Scientists, researching a cure for Corrodia Gravis; Ultra Magnus, fresh off the shuttle from Cybertron, meeting with representatives of the Governments of Earth to discuss the environmental consequences of a new fuel. And on one of his external cameras he believes he can see Rodimus Prime and young Daniel Witwicky quietly slipping away, unnoticed, from the city, and if he increases the zoom he's able to see that the two of them are carrying fishing rods. All is well in the world above. He affords himself a sense of satisfaction, and returns to the security review he initialised a few hours previously. And Metroplex sleeps on...

ENDS