Transformers: War Crimes
Posted: Wed Feb 15, 2012 9:36 am
((Been kind of inspired with what IDW is doing with the new MTMTE and RiD spin-offs. Some similarities in this, but hopefully it will be different enough as well as I tinker with it.))
A gallery of fools. The room where the trial was being conducted was filled to the rafters with Cybertronian life. Autobots. Decepticon captives. The non-aligned. The latter were especially well-represented. Starscream had never seen so many gathered in one place since just after the war had begun. That brief, transitional period when Megatron had allowed Cybertronians to remain uncommitted. It was a fast transition, to say the least. In short order, one was either for the Decepticons, or they were enemies to be eliminated. There was no concept of neutrality in the ranks of the Decepticon high command, such as it was back then.
Now here they were, ready to watch and revel in the parade of prisoners of war and other criminals that were being steadily brought before Aequitas and Chief Justice Tyrest in order to have their guilt assessed and their sentence ordered. Fleeting victory, Starscream thought. None of the non-aligned had any hand in the great drama that was playing out before their very optics. They were bystanders. Observers who had absolutely no hand in shaping the Cybertron that now lay before them. For as much as they likely pitied him, Starscream pitied them all the more. The Autobots had won, but Cybertron was stronger now because of the ravages it had gone through for many, many vorns now. It was stronger because it had been tested by fire through the likes of Megatron, Straxus and—unquestionably—Starscream himself.
“You stand before Aequitas,” Tyrest began after the Autobot guards had moved Starscream in to position, locking his hands in to the terminal in front of him. Starscream winced a little as he felt a hundred tiny probes lock themselves directly in to his circuitry. “You will be judged.”
Starscream’s dark, metallic facial features were currently sporting the faintest hint of a smirk as he looked from one side of the room to the other. Prowl. Ironhide. Ultra Magnus. Quite a few recognizable Autobots in attendance. How considerate of them. Conspicuous by his absence, however, was the great Optimus Prime himself. Did his trial not warrant a visit by the vaunted Prime?
You would think so. I certainly executed enough of his subordinates, the Seeker mused to himself. Looking to the other side, he saw Ratbat. Apparently he had been called out just prior to Starscream and was already in the process of being remanded in to the custody of the rapidly expanding prison population. His head was hanging low. Why was he so depressed? He was a senator, once upon a time. A part of the Cybertronian societal machine. And here it was, on full display for all to see. One orderly sentence after another. Just the sort of rigid, ordered nonsense that Starscream had rebelled against when he had joined Megatron’s little revolution.
Whatever Ratbat's current issue was, Starscream had more important matters to focus on.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Starscream finally spoke, looking up at Tyrest and the other Cybertronian officials who were presiding over the war crimes tribunals that had been initiated against the surviving members of the Decepticon empire…faction…movement…whatever one wanted to call it now.
Starscream could feel a rumble underneath his feet as the semi-sentient Aequitas machine charged itself up to full power, a process that always seemed to elicit a small rumble of chatter from those who had been allowed the privilege of observing the trial proceedings for that orn. His hands tingled. Whatever. Soon this little cyberfox hunt would be over. He would finagle some kind of cozy prison sentence for himself like Ratbat and a number of other Decepticons surely had and that would be that. The ideals that the Decepticons represented would never die. They would evolve. And when the time was right, they would rise up again, just as they had during the end of the so-called “Golden Age.
Suddenly he wrenched backward, crying out in his typical, high-pitched shrill as a multitude of images flashed in his mind’s eye.
“SUBJECT: STARSCREAM. GUILT ASSESSED. VERDICT: GUILTY,” a disembodied, computerized voice said, filling the trial chamber. Starscream huffed and struggled to regain his sense of orientation.
“All of these theatrics for that?” Starscream scoffed as his hands were released from the terminal.
“The prisoner will be silent,” Tyrest admonished.
“But I—“, Starscream began, before any further words could be formed, he felt a crippling surge of electricity course through his body, immediately shutting down anything he might have hoped to speak.
“The prisoner’s execution will commence in exactly one orn from determination of guilt.”
Starscream’s optics widened, looking up at Tyrest, then at the Autobots who were present. Some were staring directly at him, others were looking away.
“Wait, what?”
To Be Continued...
A gallery of fools. The room where the trial was being conducted was filled to the rafters with Cybertronian life. Autobots. Decepticon captives. The non-aligned. The latter were especially well-represented. Starscream had never seen so many gathered in one place since just after the war had begun. That brief, transitional period when Megatron had allowed Cybertronians to remain uncommitted. It was a fast transition, to say the least. In short order, one was either for the Decepticons, or they were enemies to be eliminated. There was no concept of neutrality in the ranks of the Decepticon high command, such as it was back then.
Now here they were, ready to watch and revel in the parade of prisoners of war and other criminals that were being steadily brought before Aequitas and Chief Justice Tyrest in order to have their guilt assessed and their sentence ordered. Fleeting victory, Starscream thought. None of the non-aligned had any hand in the great drama that was playing out before their very optics. They were bystanders. Observers who had absolutely no hand in shaping the Cybertron that now lay before them. For as much as they likely pitied him, Starscream pitied them all the more. The Autobots had won, but Cybertron was stronger now because of the ravages it had gone through for many, many vorns now. It was stronger because it had been tested by fire through the likes of Megatron, Straxus and—unquestionably—Starscream himself.
“You stand before Aequitas,” Tyrest began after the Autobot guards had moved Starscream in to position, locking his hands in to the terminal in front of him. Starscream winced a little as he felt a hundred tiny probes lock themselves directly in to his circuitry. “You will be judged.”
Starscream’s dark, metallic facial features were currently sporting the faintest hint of a smirk as he looked from one side of the room to the other. Prowl. Ironhide. Ultra Magnus. Quite a few recognizable Autobots in attendance. How considerate of them. Conspicuous by his absence, however, was the great Optimus Prime himself. Did his trial not warrant a visit by the vaunted Prime?
You would think so. I certainly executed enough of his subordinates, the Seeker mused to himself. Looking to the other side, he saw Ratbat. Apparently he had been called out just prior to Starscream and was already in the process of being remanded in to the custody of the rapidly expanding prison population. His head was hanging low. Why was he so depressed? He was a senator, once upon a time. A part of the Cybertronian societal machine. And here it was, on full display for all to see. One orderly sentence after another. Just the sort of rigid, ordered nonsense that Starscream had rebelled against when he had joined Megatron’s little revolution.
Whatever Ratbat's current issue was, Starscream had more important matters to focus on.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Starscream finally spoke, looking up at Tyrest and the other Cybertronian officials who were presiding over the war crimes tribunals that had been initiated against the surviving members of the Decepticon empire…faction…movement…whatever one wanted to call it now.
Starscream could feel a rumble underneath his feet as the semi-sentient Aequitas machine charged itself up to full power, a process that always seemed to elicit a small rumble of chatter from those who had been allowed the privilege of observing the trial proceedings for that orn. His hands tingled. Whatever. Soon this little cyberfox hunt would be over. He would finagle some kind of cozy prison sentence for himself like Ratbat and a number of other Decepticons surely had and that would be that. The ideals that the Decepticons represented would never die. They would evolve. And when the time was right, they would rise up again, just as they had during the end of the so-called “Golden Age.
Suddenly he wrenched backward, crying out in his typical, high-pitched shrill as a multitude of images flashed in his mind’s eye.
“SUBJECT: STARSCREAM. GUILT ASSESSED. VERDICT: GUILTY,” a disembodied, computerized voice said, filling the trial chamber. Starscream huffed and struggled to regain his sense of orientation.
“All of these theatrics for that?” Starscream scoffed as his hands were released from the terminal.
“The prisoner will be silent,” Tyrest admonished.
“But I—“, Starscream began, before any further words could be formed, he felt a crippling surge of electricity course through his body, immediately shutting down anything he might have hoped to speak.
“The prisoner’s execution will commence in exactly one orn from determination of guilt.”
Starscream’s optics widened, looking up at Tyrest, then at the Autobots who were present. Some were staring directly at him, others were looking away.
“Wait, what?”
To Be Continued...