It was time for the ultimate test... -- Cybertronian Slums

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Date Posted: 10:41:33 10/27/01 Sat
Author: Fulcrumm
Subject: It was time for the ultimate test...
In reply to: Fulcrumm 's message, "It fit like a glove...." on 14:07:14 09/03/01 Mon

As Fulcrumm looked at his reflection in a large panel of shattered glass, he no longer recognized himself. He moved his arms around in wonderment, enjoying functional joints for the first time in centuries. The armor he had cannibalized had only made him marginally taller, but it was the bulk that he found to be the true gain. No longer was he a laughable frame of the Micromaster he once was. His helmet's crimson visor now covered his damaged optics and, wired into his visual processor, enhanced his failing vision. He scanned his now boxy, broad shoulders, and wondered how much he could now lift. Spying a bulkhead with the word 'Shingo' and other indecipherable graffiti, he bent his springy new knee joints and leapt to its side. Bending once more, he grasped each side of the bulkhead, and heaved it over his head with ease. Leaping, he tossed it across the alley, flipping in midair in the process even as one of the armor's preprogrammed functions kicked in. Fulcrumm experienced a micture of panic and anticipation as the words transform_initiated scrolled acorss the inside of his visor.

He felt his legs slam together even as panels on the outside of them filpped outward and around, encapsulating them. His knee joints extended now even as his torso separated and his arms, now pointing straight overhead, forced his head down. Even as the violent burst of energy rippled forth from his barrel, decimating the hurled bulkhead even before it hit the ground, Fulcrumm knew what his new alternate mode was. The gun remained aloft via rockets in his handle/feet, for a few seconds more before the Autobot willed himself back into robot mode.

Shaking, Fulcrumm walked across the alley, readouts on his new visor indicating the temperature of the various scorch marks now adorning the far side. Few if any traces were found of the bulkhead, distressing the mute mechanoid even further. Any momentary joy felt earlier over the repair of his derelict state was now lost. Was becoming a weapon of such destructive force the price he was willing to pay? He wasn't certain the armor was worth it and yet, the thought of removing it, of stripping himself back down to the barest frame of a robot was equally disagreeable. Fulcrumm called up schematics of the armor's configuration and sub-joint system. He examined possible alterations, and explored his options...

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