From s-cwis.unomaha.edu!news.mtholyoke.edu!news.umass.edu!caen!spool.mu.edu!news.sol.net!news.inc.net!trellis.wwnet.com!nntp.coast.net!harbinger.cc.monash.edu.au!newshost.anu.edu.au!csc.canberra.edu.au!student.canberra.edu.au!u962986 Fri Mar 8 10:05:33 1996 Path: s-cwis.unomaha.edu!news.mtholyoke.edu!news.umass.edu!caen!spool.mu.edu!news.sol.net!news.inc.net!trellis.wwnet.com!nntp.coast.net!harbinger.cc.monash.edu.au!newshost.anu.edu.au!csc.canberra.edu.au!student.canberra.edu.au!u962986 From: Ratbat Newsgroups: alt.toys.transformers Subject: FANFIC: I Have No Name Date: Wed, 6 Mar 1996 23:25:00 +0000 Organization: University of Canberra, Australia Lines: 331 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: student.canberra.edu.au Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII I HAVE NO NAME by Urac Sigma *******The Transformers, and all related concepted are the property of Hasbro, Marvel, and probably a bunch of other people. This is probably a step away from the usual sort of fanfic, and NO, this isn't the one I've been on about. This is just a shortie that I had the idea for one evening. I've finally made a character out of that toy that everyone calls 'Bumblejumper' and used to get stuck into both Cliffjumper and Bumblebee boxes, even though it was neither. The setting? Just after the war on Cybertron started, and as it is starting to spread across the planet.******* * * * I have no name. I barely even have a life. It's not there now, but for the past few days I've been hearing sounds of gunfire and shouting outside the building, but I can't be sure what it is. It could be the war that I've heard about...from what Potshot and Clip have been saying to each other, it's more than just the fighting between Autobots and Decepticons that was going on in Polyhex before I came here. Primus, I wish I'd never come here. I stop by a reflective surface on a grease tank to look at myself. I can't see very well, as I've only got one optic functioning, and *that* was badly repaired. In fact, the only reason it was repaired at all was because those two bastards know that there's no use for a blind slave. Still, I don't really need or want to be able to see myself very well, as I know what kind of a state I'm in, mostly thanks to my two...employers. Where my paint hasn't scraped off entirely, it's alternately yellow or red, the horns on my helmet are gone entirely...when I'd asked Potshot to replace the first, he'd merely ripped off the remaining one and said, 'Use that.' I'm covered with dents, scratches and holes, one of my hands is little more than a blunt pincer, and as for what Transformers are supposed to call their 'pleasure interface', don't even ask. It's shorted, fused, broken, the wiring's coming bare, and *still* it isn't left alone. Like the rest of me, physically and mentally, it hurts. 'Where are you, girl?' I hear Clip's voice. 'We've got customers!' 'Coming, arsehole,' I mutter, before picking up the canisters of fuel and limping up to the service area. * * * 'See what I mean, Prime?' Cliffjumper gestured at the almost- empty streets around him. 'Gone!' Optimus Prime transformed and looked around him. Only yesterday, this street had contained the spillover from the battle surrounding a Decepticon raid in the next block. This small township hadn't really become part of the main war that was covering Cybertron yet, in fact, Autobots and Decepticons still mixed here on some levels, but as with everywhere else, Prime was sure that that would soon change. 'You did well to call me, Cliffjumper. After the raid, I was sure that this whole town would be a battlefield by now.' 'And that's the strange thing,' confirmed Bumblebee. 'It's almost like this is ready to become an Autobot town again. There's still a few Decepticons around, but they sure aren't making any trouble.' 'This stinks like bad exhaust,' added Cliffjumper. 'If the Decepticons can't take something, they usually burn it down.' Prime rubbed his chin. 'Very curious,' he agreed. 'So what're we gonna do?' asked Bumblebee. Optimus looked across the street they were standing in. There was a fuel-house there, with robots coming in and out, some talking, some fuming to themselves, some obviously having over energised a bit too much already - the main thing was, the fuel-house appeared to be popular. Prime thought, and strode towards it. * * * Clip takes the tray from me through the serving hatch, not even bothering to shoot me a look this time. It's not because he's starting to respect me, just disregarding me. What else is that little female for than to hand him the drink tray? Not that he *doesn't* find other uses for me, mind you. I am about to slide the hatch shut again, when a large red robot with a blue head, one I haven't seen before, approaches Potshot at the bar. He asks Potshot some questions, something to do with the fighting having stopped or something. 'I don't know,' Potshot tells him. 'Around here, robots do their own thing. Now, if you'll excuse me...it's closing time.' The red robot - Prime or something like that - nods and walks out. As Potshot turns, I lower the serving hatch, but not quite fast enough. My face slams into the floor as Potshot kicks my feet out from under me. The bar is empty now - he had been telling the truth to Prime, as the fuel-house had closed some fifteen minutes later. '*You* are supposed to stay out of sight!' snaps Potshot. 'Transformers do not come here to see your ugly face!' adds Clip. 'Now, get to cleaning.' Bored with me already, he spins on his heel, leading Potshot out. As the door closes behind them, I wave the middle finger I have left to me at it. As I gather up the empty canisters and wipe up the spillages, something catches my eye. There is a gold and black data storage unit sitting behind one of the wall columns. I normally wouldn't have seen it, except for that there had been a particularly messy customer sitting in this corner, and I had to clean up after him. I decide to leave it, and to take care of it later. I know that that means actually *going* to Clip or Potshot, that's why I'm not particularly hurried. As I finish off the rest of the room, I realise what it was that struck me about the robot named Prime. He was assured of himself. He knew that somehow, for someone, somewhere, even if he didn't know who, he was doing the Right Thing. Of course, if he was *really* into the Right Thing, he'd shut this hole down. I almost forget about the data cartridge as I return to the kitchen. Knowing that I'm going to get it whether I take it up to the others or if they find it, I trudge back to the bar. When I get there, the cartridge is gone. * * * Rumble leapt down from the spire he'd been knocking the top off. 'Hey, Soundwave! Buzzsaw's comin' back!' The tall blue communicator stood up and allowed the gold and black condor to perch on his arm. 'I got it,' Buzzsaw said. 'Three days of bar talk. I tell ya, those Autobots *never* shut up about their work, especially those Dinobot guys...and I got it all in here.' He reached a wing around to tap his chest. 'Excellent. Now it is time for Laserbeak's shift.' He pressed the switch on his shoulder, opening the panel on his chest. 'Laserbeak - transform. Operation: Espionage.' A red and black data cartridge slid out, transformed to become the other of his winged children, and set off toward the fuel-house below. If there was one thing Laserbeak was, it was sneaky. Seeing Optimus Prime scanning the horizon behind the fuel-house, she perched behind a sign until he turned to look in the other direction. Then, she shut off her thrusters and glided toward the half-open window, at the back. He'd never hear a thing. Unfortunately, there was another thing Laserbeak was, and that was clumsy. She miscalculated her final swoop, and slammed one of her wings into the strut on the window. Not only did the resulting noise alert Optimus Prime, but Bumblebee and Cliffjumper also happened along at that moment. Now, Cliffjumper wasn't the brightest Autobot around - not even close, to be honest - but it didn't take much for him to be able to recognise a single purple symbol. 'A Decepticon!' he shouted. 'I'd kinda noticed,' said Bumblebee. He raised his laser pistol, waiting for Optimus to open fire before he himself started shooting, but the spy had already turned tail (so to speak) and headed back towards the rooves of the taller buildings above. 'Coward!' called Cliffjumper. 'You'll keep!' 'I recognise her,' Optimus announced. 'Laserbeak. She's supposed to be an interrogator, but she has a data storage mode, so she acts as a spy for the Decepticons.' Cliffjumper snapped his fingers. 'And the Autobots here use this fuel-house all the time!' Bumblebee brought up the conclusion. 'So *that's* why the Decepticons have been behaving peacefully. If they started fighting, the Autobots would be harder to spy on.' 'Indeed. Prepare to radio Prowl and tell him to keep a watchful eye over this sector.' 'Right,' answered vaguely. He had become distracted as he looked through the window Laserbeak had tried to enter. 'Hey, Cliffjumper - look at this.' Cliffjumper looked. 'Yeah? So who's she?' 'I dunno...but look - she looks like she transforms the same way we do!' 'Yeah,' replied Cliffjumper flatly. That was all he needed. Someone else to get mixed up with. * * * I hear the door to the service area slam as someone comes through it. I can't tell if it's Clip or Potshot; not that it matters, they're both as bad as each other. This is what I hate most about being here. But it's the only reason they haven't recycled me and sold me to that beige guy as scrap. I had almost thanked Primus that tonight had passed without it. But no. Tonight was not going to be one of my luckier nights. Fuck it. 'Turn around,' says the voice. Clip's voice. I don't, I wonder if I can just pretend I'm deaf. 'Turn!' Potshot too. No, not both of them! I turn. I can't tell whether they've thought up some sick knew game or if one of the shits wants to get his jollies by watching the other one. I feel my fuel run cold as my vision settles on Clip. 'Oh, don't look at *him*,' says Potshot. 'It's me first.' To petrified to move, I let him approach me. 'Go on - don't make like you don't enjoy it.' I just sneer and spit fuel and a fractured component in his face. And for that, he sneers back and hits me hard across the side of the head. Maybe if I end up unconscious, this won't seem so bad... * * * 'Aw no,' moaned Cliffjumper from the window. 'What is it?' asked Optimus. The window was at head height for the two Mini-Autobots, which meant that it was a fair stoop for him. 'It...isn't good,' reported Bumblebee. 'What?' he asked. Bumblebee told him. Optimus Prime's eyes widened. 'No! Primus, no!' * * * I screw my eyes shut and try to think of anything, *anything* but what's happening to me now. It doesn't work. Time and again I've tried to forget this, and time and again I've failed. Then it all stops. This time I know why, even as Potshot drops me rather viciously to the floor. A large hole has been blasted in the back wall. At first I think it might be Decepticons, but standing in the gap is Optimus Prime. 'Step away from her,' he tells Potshot. When Potshot doesn't do it immediately, he fires a blast at his shoulder, making sure he knows he means business. 'I'm beginning to get sick of you,' Clip says. Prime is *extremely* pissed off, I can tell. I'm so absorbed by all this, I'm only just aware of the two other Autobots picking me up and moving me to a safer distance. He shoots at Clip the same way he did at Potshot. 'And I already *am* sick of you. Decepticons like you who think that you can treat a poor robot like this any way you want.' Potshot is about to say something, but Clip's way ahead of him. 'Hey! We'll treat her how we want! We *bought* her as *our* slave. We've got the rights!' 'Rights?!' bellows Prime. 'RIGHTS?!! No-one has rights over ANY other individual! From this day forth, she is free! FREEDOM is the right of ALL sentient beings!' And with that, he fires again. I should call out. I should tell him that Clip and Potshot have moved too close to the fuel tank, and that it might ignite and get them both. But somehow, I don't seem to be able to bring my vocal systems on line. * * * Bumblebee and Cliffjumper helped Optimus Prime to his feet. 'Prime,' said Cliffjumper. 'If you ever pull that stunt again, do it from a bit further back.' Prime shook his head to clear it, and saw the wreckage that had been made of the two robots, and of part of the bar. 'The girl,' he said suddenly, 'is she--' 'She's right here, Prime,' said Bumblebee. 'She's unconscious now, but I reckon that she's had some of these wounds for a loooong time.' Prime nodded. 'I left my trailer section in the street. Load her in, and we'll take her back to Iacon, where she can be fully repaired.' The two smaller Transformers nodded, and between them picked up the injured robot and carried her off. he reflected. His thoughts were interrupted by a metal footfall behind him. He turned. 'Soundwave.' He had no idea how long the Decepticons' chief communicator had been in the vicinity, but now his hand was outstretched, and his weapon dematerialised in a gesture of truce. Optimus knew many Decepticons who wouldn't honour such a notion - Soundwave, however, was not among them. 'I know what you are thinking, Optimus Prime.' 'Part of your mind-reading talents?' returned Prime, half a sneer in his voice. 'On this occasion it is not necessary. I have from Buzzsaw and Laserbeak full details of what transpired between the proprietors of this establishment and their aide. I have come to tell you - I know of no Decepticons who would do such things.' 'Don't you,' responded Prime drily. Soundwave handed him something. 'I appropriated this while you were unconscious.' Optimus took the small piece of metal. He recognised it as a part of Clip - evidently this panel had turned when he transformed, for one side was plain blue, and on the other there was... ...an Autobot symbol. He looked up at Soundwave, but he had gone, already a blue speck retreating into the sky. Optimus was alone, with something to think about. * * * I wake up in a repair bay. Work must have been done on my visual system, because for the first time in years I can see properly. A white robot with a windshield on his chest is doing some final work on a panel on my arm, and in front of me stands Prime. 'I'm glad to see you've recovered,' he says. 'What happened?' I have to ask. 'Potshot and Clip, are they--' 'They won't trouble you ever again,' he replies. 'I do have to ask you one thing, though.' I nod. It's so much easier when the right rivets are in your neck. 'After this, you're free to leave or stay as you wish, but for now we at least need to call you something. Searching the bar, we found no record of your identity. Nightbeat has suggested to me that you don't actually *have* a name as such. 'No,' I say. 'I have no name. I can't remember needing one in that place. I don't know if I ever had one. I don't know,' I admit. 'What *should* I be called?' 'May I suggest something?' 'Go ahead.' 'If it wasn't for the two Autobots with me, I never would have known about what was happening to you. I thought it might be an appropriate gesture to remember them in your new name.' I think about it for a few seconds. They helped me out of there, and my *name's* all they want? I'd give my right arm, but they probably wouldn't want it. I tell Prime I think it's a great idea. I can't see his mouth, but I can tell he's smiling at me. 'In that case...welcome aboard - Bumblejumper.' He turns and walks out. A very busy robot. I have a name. Thanks to Optimus Prime, I have a name. Thanks to Optimus Prime, I am Bumblejumper. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- *******ANOTHER NOTE: In case anyone's wondering, I'm not really starting as I mean to go on with this one. I'd read a book about serial killers and their victims' ordeals, and this formed itself. The next one I've got coming will probably be somewhat more light-hearted. Comments, as ever, are welcome. Urac 'Ratbat' Sigma