Ragnarok — Musings of an Interplanetary Dreadnought

I can see the entire planet from here.

It’s a fantastic view, it really is. I can see Iacon, Tarn, Tyrest, and the Manganese Mountains, and in a few hours I’ll be able to see Kalis, the Acid Wastes and the Rad Zone.

Above, I can see the stars and other planets. And if I squint and stare long enough I can just about make out Earth. It’s beautiful. The whole universe is beautiful, and I feel like I’m the only one who can see it. I just wish there was someone here I could share it with.

So what’s up, my friend?

In a way, I know how you feel. When we’re young there’s always a dominating figure, pushing us to do things we’re not sure are right or not. With time and experience you’ll learn. Let me share something with you from my youth. His name was Plasma, and it was a very long time ago.

I was designed, conceptualised and built by an Imperial known as Plasma, years and years ago in the Chaar shipyard. I didn’t realise it at the time, but he’d based my design on an Autobot Resistance Leader called Fortress Maximus. I’m flattered by that now.

We were part of the Dominator Sector of the Cybertronian Empire, the apparent cream of the Liege Maximo’s forces.

“Great leaders dominate events rather than react to them,” Plasma had always said.

He dominated me too, using my formidable size to instil fear into his peers and enemies. I never really knew why he didn’t just rebuild himself into my size. Maybe it was having a massive toy to control and play with. Piston envy, maybe.

Plasma would make me do terrible things. The amount of organic “rot” he would make me sanitise… But eventually I learnt to grow up and become independent. It was actually quite—hmm, I tell you what, put one of the Reality Pods over your optics and I’ll show you.

The attack was loud and brutal, and Talon never saw it coming. Plasma screamed the name of his fellow-Dominator, slapping his open palm onto as many ‘fire’ buttons as he could on the control panels of the Brave Maximus. Wave upon wave of mortar bombs, photons and ion beams were spat down on to the Cyberworld’s surface. Plasma had a personality like liquid; fluid, unorganised, and with a requirement to be contained.

A fleet of Dominator E-1 Interceptors launched from Talon’s citadel and counterattacked. Three E-12 Arachnids were deployed too, but Plasma had the Brave Maximus unfold into robot mode and crush them underfoot. The massive robot swung his arms out wide at the Interceptors, swatting them all to the ground.

“What do you want, Plasma?”

Plasma snatched the radio receiver, bringing it up to his mouth. “You’ve pissed me off big time!”

“No kidding,” Talon replied. “You’ve just killed almost eighty troops of mine.”

“Yes, troops of yours,” Plasma snarled. He pulled at the controls, making the Brave Maximus stride menacingly towards the citadel. “That promotion was rightfully mine. I should be in charge here.”

Talon cut the transmission and a force field bubbled up over the citadel. Plasma clenched his fists, punching down onto a monitor screen. He should have been given a Cyberworld to rule, not Talon.

And deep within the Brave Maximus, there was a realisation.

Plasma grappled with the controls again, commanding his gargantuan creation to tear through the shield. The controls became difficult and wouldn’t respond to Plasma’s grip. The Dominator ripped them from their sockets in anger. “What in the name of the Great Xal is going on here?”

The Brave Maximus relaxed from his poised gesture to pull the citadel apart and lowered his arms. For the first time, possibly ever, the giant spoke. “No more.”

Snake-like probes came up from the floor, wrapping themselves around Plasma’s legs. It was an internal measure he’d installed to the Brave Maximus to deal with enemy intruders. Brave Maximus had finally had enough of Plasma’s control and was determined now to deal with the enemy within.

The probes slithered up Plasma’s abdomen and chest, and enveloped his neck. With the desperation of an abused child finally having the courage to face his molester, Brave Maximus commanded the probes to squeeze. Tight.

Of course I’m not advocating that you should actually kill those that stand in your way of your independence. You just need to stand up for yourself.

After Plasma’s death I was no longer a, uh, honoured member of the Cybertronian Empire, and I fled, using all the energon in my possession to reach Cybertron. I was restored by Tow-Line and Pitstop and made an Autobot.

Have you ever considered the logo you bear on your chest? I’ve worn both Decepticon and Autobot insignias. The Decepticon logo is sharp and angular, its eyes fierce and penetrating. They couldn’t have picked a better face to instil terror into those at the heel of Decepticon oppression. What? Possibly. Though I don’t see why they would have based it on Soundwave.

And then there’s the face of the Last Autobot. Looks sad, doesn’t he? His eyes are wise and weary. It’s a face overwhelmed by enormous responsibility; the responsibility we all share as long as the Decepticons exist.

I get lonely yeah, of course I do. At least you have your fellow cadets to interact with. There’s no one that even approaches my size. But, heh, did you see the look on Galvatron’s face when I was out there ripping into his Warworlds? Talk about jealous!

Tell you what; put the Reality Pod back on again.

A vast spacecraft entered Cybertronian Orbitspace. A counter to Brave Maximus built by the Decepticons; the same size, the same destructive powers, the same high level of deadliness. It was called Gigatron, derived from the Greek word for giant, and it was here to settle a score—Brave Maximus’s life for all the Warworlds he destroyed.

Blaster picked up the craft on the scanners and Ultra Magnus sounded the alert. Brave Maximus was launched to greet the menace. The giant Autobot hadn’t even escaped Cybertron’s atmosphere before Gigatron launched a barrage of plasma bombs at him.

Gigatron transformed to dinosaur mode, a version of Trypticon nearly three hundred times his size. His eyes glowed red, their evil flare bright against the blackness of space. Brave Maximus shifted to robot mode and powered towards the Decepticon. The fight ahead would rock heaven itself, and it would be a battle to the death.

The Decepticon dinosaur snapped his hips to the left, launching his tail around and into Brave Maximus. The Autobot spun over from the force that could have shattered a moon. Before he could activate retro boosters to return upright, Brave Maximus was attacked again. Titanium claws embedded themselves into his shoulders, and he yawned in pain. Gigatron’s eyes burned a deeper red as he squeezed his arms together.

Brave Maximus rotated his shoulders forward and brought his arms up between Gigatron’s. With his fists at the dinosaur’s face, he opened out his arms, forcing the claws out of his steel skin. The Autobot then brought his knee up into Gigatron’s chest, pushing him away.

Pulse cannons leapt out from Brave Maximus’ hips and pumped ion beams into the Decepticon. Gigatron reeled backwards, employing his photon launchers. The Autobot covered his optics.

Gigatron swung his tail into Brave Maximus again, but the Autobot was ready for him, making a lunge for his upper back and wrestling the dinosaur into a headlock. The Decepticon tried to break free, but Brave Maximus was too strong. The Autobot unsheathed his Omega sword and brought it up to Gigatron’s throat.

“What is it you want, Decepticon?”

There was no reply, and Brave Maximus shrugged. “After all this time waiting for someone my size to come along, and they don’t even program you with any intelligence.”

Gigatron growled.

“Shame,” said the Autobot, slicing off his head.

Well, what did you expect, that the Decepticons would build an opponent my size that would just want to play Fullstasis with me? But that’s the sad truth, my friend; I’m one of a kind, Cybertron’s greatest protector, powerful beyond measure… and completely lonely.

Yes, it’s an awesome responsibility all right.