Tales of the Intermezzo - Plot Device A Transformers Universe/Legion of Net.Heroes Story copyright 2007 by Dave Van Domelen based on properties owned by Hasbro =========================================================================== "intermezzo - n. A brief entertainment between two acts of a play." - American Heritage Dictionary "The Legion of Net.Heroes, or LNH, is the oldest (and perhaps first) USENET-based shared universe still in existence, and the name of the premiere 'net.hero' team in that universe." - Wikipedia [Note: this story begins during System Corruptors Annual #1, the last scene of Chapter Three. http://www.eyrie.org/~dvandom/BW/Fanfic/SCAnnualA for the text, although there should be enough infodump in this story here that you don't need to go read that first.] Ever since he, Quad and the BallistiMACs had been forcibly evicted from the "Looniverse" and dropped on this metal world that was not their Luna, Traumastar had been having an even worse day than usual. "This is crazy!" Traumastar's nagging internal voice told him. "We might have had a chance against that Gestalt, but the Stadium-Class FortressMAC down there that looks like a gray and green dinosaur? No way!" "Shut up!" Traumastar told himself. He hated how persuasive that inner voice could be sometimes. It always sounded reasonable, but when looking back it was usually clear it was telling him to take the coward's way out. He knew, intellectually, that he was among the most powerful WarMACs out there, and if he tried to stand against that FortressMAC, he might actually have a chance of winning, or at least surviving. But, where squishies might be able to blame "inner demons" on their own messy organic thinking processes, Traumastar didn't have that excuse. He really did have a secondary mind, intended to help run the large number of systems in his massive spherical form. He had been an early experiment, trying to find a middle ground between WarMAC and FortressMAC, with a secondary Mobile Artificial Consciousness that was superior to the usual combat drone program used by WarMACs. Instead, his tactical consciousness was a coward and a half, *too* aware of all the hazards of a situation. And way too good at convincing Traumastar that it was right. Needless to say, Traumastar was the first *and* last member of the MAC Empire to carry a secondary tactical mind. And even the few old enough to remember the reasons behind Traumastar's mental state still thought of him as a weak and inconstant ally. "Shut up!" he repeated. "I still have that device I found among the possessions of our 'host', if things get truly bad, I can activate it." "The 'Plot Device?'" Tactical mocked. "You think unstable alien technology from a reality where people consider themselves *fictional* would ever make things better instead of much, much worse? For all we know, Acton Lord left that there for us to find, as a trap!" "Just get me firing solutions on that FortressMAC," Traumastar snarled. At least Emmexor, the Gestalt form of the BallistiMACs, had managed to disrupt the enemy Gestalt. Clearly these strange MACs weren't very technologically advanced, given how easily their Gestalt bonds had been scrambled. "Fine, fine. Like you need help shooting that huge pile of metal. Even full power and with no Integrity Field to worry about, we're going to have to hit it at least seven times in a single spot to breach that armor. They may be primitives, but there's nothing wrong with their metallurgy!" Tactical groused. Pain lanced through Traumastar as just a single shot grazed his spherical conveyance mode. It had been a long time since a FortressMAC's main weapons had hit him, and it wasn't a memory he really wanted refreshed. "Warning! Antigravs three through seven on starboard out!" Tactical warned. "We don't have symmetry in the field anymore!" "Well, hell," Traumastar said through the mental equivalent of gritted teeth. "Gonna have to transform or fall. I hate transforming." He liked his non-humanoid mode. Two half-spheres joined around a smaller sphere, it was elegant and powerful, able to fire solar powerbeams in any direction down the equatorial gap with minimal need for maneuvering. His robot form was ungainly and ugly, his hull forming huge wings that blocked lines of fire and forced him to wheel around to bring his main weapons to bear. It had been intended to look impressive and demonic, but it was just overwrought and clumsy. As he assumed the hated form and started to regain control of his altitude, a staticky voice broke through on ComNet. "...dimensional gate... ening in three sec...ove you. I can on...ld it open for a few sec...e fast!" "Firebrand!" Tactical practically gibbered. "He'll get us out of this hell dimension!" "Everyone, make for the sky!" Quad ordered. "Firebrand's getting us out!" "Aye aye, cap'n!" Trauamastar said (but didn't transmit), and shot up towards the purplish glowing rip in space, engaging emergency antigrav systems and being as evasive as his clumsy body would allow. A few beams from the FortressMAC shot dangerously close to him, but none hit. Then he hit the portal...and felt something going horribly wrong. In fact, it was going so wrong, so quickly, that Tactical didn't even have time to say, "I told you so!" * * * * "You know," Channel said to no one in particular, "sometimes I wonder if I wouldn't have been more effective staying a Neutral and just tweaking resources. But no, I had to go join the Autobots, get shot at repeatedly, have half of Iacon dropped on me, end up in the belly of a giant alien ship, and now...the thrill a nanoclick world of border patrol in the Istoral Trench." He rode a small three-wheeled buggy that looked like it had been cobbled together from random spare parts, precisely because that's what it was. The terrain was too rough for his usual maglev trick to work safely, and he still hadn't gotten his altmode upgraded into something with, oh, MOBILITY. A data terminal was great when your job involved sitting in a room deep in the Central Archives all the time, not so good if you got stuck on border patrol. Suddenly, the starry sky above seemed to split open, for just a moment. A purplish rent in the fabric of the firmament opened and closed like the eye of a great beast that was briefly roused from slumber. "What in the name of Primus was that?" Channel brought the buggy to an abrupt halt and stared up at the sky, running the imagery through his data processing routines while bringing up other sensors to see if there was any residual energy. In fact, his sensor suite was at such a high level of alert at that moment that he had no idea how he failed to notice the figure who spoke next. "That is the death of your universe," came a voice from Channel's left. He spun to face what turned out to be a tiny figure, barely as large in total as Channel's head, and Channel was hardly a large Autobot. It seemed softer and rounder than any Cybertronian, and was clad in a black substance that was flexible yet utterly blocked Channel's scans. Held in one hand was a shaft of ebon material clad in shimmering gold at either end. "Who are you?" he demanded, summoning his laser pistol from subspace. "Once I might have taken the time to debate comparative robotic anatomy, discuss matters of cosmogeny and Cybertronian myth, perhaps even share a refreshing beverage, but such is denied to me now, for I am..." he paused, as if expecting to be interrupted, then finished, "...a stranger." "That much is obvious," Channel snarled. "What did you mean, the death of my universe?" "I mean that what you have just witnessed is the arrival of a cosmic virus, of sorts. A robotic lifeform unlike you yet like you has stumbled through an unstable dimensional portal while carrying a potent item taken from a world that is run by principles other than your science. And now, the combination of factors will quickly transform the visitor into a threat of universal proportions, if rapid action is not taken." "Fine. Rapid action. In space. And you couldn't tell this to one of the Autobots with, oh...a flying form? In case you haven't noticed, Mister Stranger, I can't fly!" "I am not Mister Stranger, he is another of my ilk. No, I am known as the Dvandom Stranger, and by the power of my Editorial Staff, I will enable you to overcome your limitations for the duration of this emergency. But it is your power to redirect energies that is vital...and your connection to me that let me find you in the first place." "Connection? Okay, I'm totally lost now," Channel shook his head, then stumbled as a wave of energy shook the ground. "Gah! Fly now, explain on the way!" "Indeed," the stranger nodded, unperturbed by the shockwave. Gesturing with his staff, he took to the air, Channel flying alongside him. "This world you live in is part of the domain of Lord MUDD, and for all that you think it is purely real and physical, it is one of many fictional realms in the broad tapestry of the PluRealities. As such, it is susceptible to the energies of the Plot Device carried by one named Traumastar, who even now grows in power and madness. You bear a link via the power of Lord MUDD to an alternate reality version of the man I once was before I was drawn into my own stories and transformed into a Stranger." As Channel and the Dvandom Stranger left the surface of Cybertron behind, he just shook his head. "Let's pretend for a moment that none of that made any sense at all. Because it didn't. But you obviously have a lot of power in that tiny body, since we're halfway to our destination already. Let's cut to the practical matters, you can try to explain your insane metaphysics later. What do I do?" "If it helps, even natives of the Looniverse have trouble with our 'insane metaphysics,' and we live it," the Dvandom Stranger admitted. "Be glad that this is not part of an active crossover. In any case," he added as it started to look like Channel might decide to reach over and try to crush him, "the key lies in your designed affinity for powerful reality-altering energies, a capacity not even your builders were aware of when they located your schematics in an ancient database." "Wait, you know what I was designed for?" "Of course, for such is my power and such is my curse as a Stranger. Suffice to say that you were intended to be a piece of something of great power, but the potential for that combination has since been lost. What is not lost is your ability to harness the very energies of creation, such as those even now being unleashed by the Plot Device inside of Traumastar. The Editorial Staff can act as a safe repository for these energies, but only you among all those on this world are capable of safely drawing them out and redirecting them." "Ah," Channel said as they came within visual range of Traumastar. "Clearly this is some new definition of 'safely' that I was not previously aware of. You do realize that this guy is easily the size of a warship already, and I can see him gaining mass without needing to refine my sensor sweeps any? I'm having to shut down sensors, in fact, to keep them from being overloaded by the passives he's putting out!" "It is the definition of 'safely' that includes the planet below us being spared from total annihilation," was the calm response. "And Traumastar cannot detect us...yet. The pain of his transfiguration blinds him, but soon he will regain his senses if not his sanity, we must act soon." "Right. Where's this Plot Device? Let me guess...at the very center of that gigantic pulsing sphere of energy that looks like it's about ready to collapse into some sort of black hole?" The Dvandom Stranger simply nodded. "Of COURSE," Channel sighed. "Oh, and to make things more fun, I'm picking up some Decepticon comm chatter...they think this is a return of those aliens in the mysterious black worldship, and are prepping a full missile assault. Not that it did much against those aliens either, but I doubt that sort of logic will keep a 'Con's finger off the firing stud. And I'm thinking this is where you tell me that any overt attack will wake our boy up?" "That is correct. You seem to be adapting to my 'insane' metaphysics quite rapidly," the Stranger replied wryly. "It's surprisingly easy. Just think of the worst possible outcome and call it the most likely one," Channel snarked. "Damn, he's big. And ugly. And I can feel a gravity field coming off him now." "This will, at least, make it possible to land on him and remain stable during the siphoning process." "Ah, a bright side at least," Channel frowned as they alit on Traumastar's abdomen. Before them, in the cavity between abdomen and chest, was a roiling mass of energy held in a roughly spherical shape. Barely contained, the power seemed eager to reach out and devour reality itself...in fact, Channel realized it was doing just that! Traumastar's growth was being fueled by the Plot Device consuming the zero point energy of spacetime, thereby replacing emptiness with nothingness...what seemed like a fine distinction until you realized that you could always put something back into an emptiness, but a nothingness had nowhere left to fill. "The attack has begun," the Dvandom Stranger observed. Indeed, Channel picked up the active lidars of several dozen missiles painting Traumastar with their targeting beams. "We may wait no longer." "This. Is. Going. To. Hurt," Channel grunted, bringing his energy transfer systems online and reaching out towards the ravening sphere with one hand, while grasping the slender hope of the Editorial Staff in the other. Suddenly, power such as he'd never felt surged through his systems, which miraculously held instead of burning out like a cheap fuse. Flow meters simply shut down when the readings went so far past their intended range that the numbers stopped making sense. And yet, not making sense was probably all that kept Channel from vanishing in a puff of volatilized metals and plastics...any strictly scientific energies at these levels would surely have killed him instantly. But this was something different. Something touched by a power not of science, not of his reality. What had he been designed for, that he could cope with forces that he could only describe as supernatural? "Break contact now!" the Dvandom Stranger shouted, raising his voice for the first time since he had appeared. Channel tried to obey, but the sphere now wanted him. It hungered for something to replace what he had stolen, and would gladly take his entire life in partial payment. He could feel his arm being slowly ripped from its socket...the Editorial Staff was an anchor like none he'd ever felt, and would not let him go, but neither would the beast at Traumastar's heart relinquish its prey. Then the missiles struck. * * * * Channel's optics returned to operation. He was in the Istoral Trench, next to his buggy. The sky was lit by a fading explosion. His arms felt like they'd need some major repair work, but both were still attached and more or less working. "It is done. The explosion hurled Traumastar through the dimensional barriers and back to his proper place, the remnants of Plotdevicium still in his body being consumed by the opening of the rift. The other energies are safely contained in my Editorial Staff, and I was able to use a portion of them to return you home. Now, the task completed, I must be on my way." "Wait! What about the purpose for which I was designed?" Channel demanded. "Once I might have tarried and discussed beginnings and endings with you, or spent many an hour speculating on what might have been, but now I cannot, for I am..." "A stranger," Channel finished. The Dvandom Stranger nodded. "And such is my curse." With that, the Stranger's black coverings seemed to fold in on themselves, taking him with them to...wherever it was he was from. Slowly, gingerly, Channel got back on his buggy and headed back to base. "What a day. I save the universe, and all I get to show for it are stress injuries in my wrists...." ============================================================================ Author's Notes: This one may take some explaining. Oh, who am I kidding, it'll take a lot of explaining, even after the exposition dumps within the story. The first chunk of these notes will be aimed at the Transformers fans reading this, the second at the Legion of Net.Heroes fans. :) http://www.physics.ohio-state.edu/~dvandom/LNH/lnhstories.html has links to many of the Legion of Net.Heroes stories I reference here, but not all. The links on that page to other resources are all dead, try http://www.eyrie.org/lnh for some other stuff. A summary of Constellation #1-36 can be found at http://www.physics.ohio-state.edu/~dvandom/LNH/Force0 http://www.eyrie.org/~dvandom/BW/Fanfic has my other Transformers fanfic, while http://www.dvandom.com/drawings/tfmushgal.html has a lot of Channel art. As with many of my Tales of the Intermezzo in 2007, this was written as a Fanfic Challenge for the AllSpark.com forums. The challenge was "Meet Your Maker," a meeting between you and one of your fancharacters, or a canon character you had adopted as your own. Initially, I wasn't going to participate. I don't really like doing self-insertion these days...even leaving aside the Mary Sue/Gary Stu aspects of it, there's certain logical problems raised that bother me. Namely, the interaction of a fictional character and a fan of that fictional world. The usual way this is done is to have the "real world" character dumped into the fictional setting somehow. They'd know all sorts of things about the fictional world, making them a sort of informational Mary Sue even if they don't gain any powers from being in the new world. And, frankly, it's been done. A LOT. And pretty well in a few cases (such as the Fan.Boy series in the Legion of Net.Heroes). I didn't really want to play it that way. Another way involves bringing the fictional character into the real world, or at least as close as you can get to the real world when you have a fictional character running around in it. I called this sort of setting "Real World -1" when I addressed the issue in Dvandom Force (another Legion of Net.Heroes tale), during the Crysys On Ynfynyte Tyms (Dvandom Force #42). And, frankly, I didn't feel like retelling that. Next, of course, there's the "analogue" path. Assume that there's a version of yourself in the fictional setting, and have them interact with the characters. The problem with that is pretty obvious when you're talking about writing fanfic about a subject you're heavily involved with. How can I still be me if Transformers are real instead of fictional? My fandom has shaped a lot of my life, and a world where Transformers were real would almost have to have a different approach to the fandom. Oh, I could take the Marvel Comics approach and say that the fandom is about the same, some details are changed, and so forth, but that feels too much like a cop-out. So, I was about to shrug and move on, waiting for the next month's challenge, when I examined one of my premises a little more. I don't write self-insertion *any more*. But I used to. Specifically, several Legion of Net.Heroes characters are essentially versions of myself. One of the early features of the LNH was that everyone had a Writer Character, like a Player Character, who was supposed to be you in some way. This was abandoned eventually, but both Sig.Lad and Acton Lord were essentially me in better shape and with powers. Turning the idea over in my head even more, I considered the Dvandom Stranger. He is a "Real World -1" version of me who got sucked into the LNH "Looniverse" in one of my earliest stories. Granted, he's a version of me from before I created Channel, but close enough, eh? And he also has the sort of powers and mandate that make him a natural to go messing about with other fictional characters of mine. All that remained was to pick a way to get it all together, and I had a natural candidate. Back in 1994 I ran a crossover in the LNH called "Robot Invasion". It started in Constellation #17 during the Looniverse Adrift crossver, with my villain Acton Lord using inter-newsgroup transport to go to alt.toys.transformers and visit a number of the fanfics posted there. He eventually found my RoboMACs 2163 setting and decided he could use it as a source of manpower. Antiochus V, leader of the Mobile Artificial Consciousness Empire, turned the tables on him and used Acton Lord's base on Andale Atoll as a beachhead to invade the Looniverse. The invasion took place over the course of Constellation #21-24, with crossover issues in all sorts of other titles, such as Pliable Lad, Kid Kirby/Particle Lad and Opinionated Lad. Eventually the invasion was thwarted as the good guys pulled an "open the Matrix" sort of play and shoved everyone out of the Looniverse. The good guys all went home, but the bad guys got scattered across various Transformers realities, leading to the story linked at the very start of this file. Replacing SCAnnualA with SCAnnualB gets the rest of that story, by the way. Firebrand, a RoboMAC based on Dr. Clayton Forrester (MST3K) found a way to get all the MACE guys home, but I grabbed Traumastar for a little detour in this story. RoboMACs are my own version of Transformers, originally created for a giant robot RPG. I eventually made a new setting for the version of that RPG that saw print, but the "RoboMACs 2163" setting was used for the Robot Invasion. I basically took the archetypes of Transformers but created a new setting in which the RoboMACs (a Robo body with a Mobile Artificial Consciousness inside it) were a descendants of humanity and had come to dominate Earth and the Moon (now a half-metal-covered world generally called Luna). Trauamstar is one of the few RoboMACs in the original setting book who isn't a direct or partial ripoff of any canonical Transformer, instead being more of a 1979 Cylon Basestar that can (but usually doesn't) transform. The BallistiMACs are Combaticons, Quad is Astrotrain (but a four-changer), and so forth. The "FortressMAC" mentioned in the opening is Trypticon, and the enemy Gestalt was Bruticus. Now, as for the Transformers stuff. "Tales of the Intermezzo" is my loose non-series series for Transformers fanfics, more like a one-person anthology title with occasional recurring settings and sub-continuities. Given that I've done crossovers of Transformers with Stargate SG-1 and the Goon Show in some of my Intermezzos, doing an LNH crossover is only natural. Channel, however, has not really been a fanfic character of mine per se, in the sense that he hasn't starred in an Intermezzo before this. He was my second character on Transformers: the Lost Years MUSH, a game set in the years right after the Ark departed Cybertron. The original high concept was that he was going to have a third mode as "God Armor" for Vanguard, an ancient Autobot played by a friend of mine. The plans had been lost for a long time, then recovered by Cybertronians who lacked the context, seeing just a decent design for a new body and putting it into use. This combination plan, sadly, was nixed by the admin, and eventually Vanguard got rebuilt into Guardstar anyway, so the compatibilities would have been wrong. But that's the "purpose" the Dvandom Stranger was going on about. Vanguard was "Matrix Compatible", so Channel had to be as well. This sort of thing never came up in play, though. The aliens referred to in passing did, however, come up in play. I don't know how, or if, that storyline ever really resolved...Channel was around for driving them off the first time, but if they ever came back I'd stopped playing by then. (As an aside, Vanguard's player has actually written more fanfic with Channel than I have, using an altered version in his Headmasters II and Headmasters Crash series.) I've since redesigned Channel in other settings and with other altmodes, for instance making an Armada version that turned into a truck. I've probably done more art with Channel than any other single character except maybe Solar Max, he's one of my few recurring characters. He's more of a fanART character than a fanFIC character, as a result. I'd better stop now, before the notes get longer than the story!