There was no real purpose to his existence. -- Cybertronian Slums

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Date Posted: 16:01:00 08/02/01 Thu
Author: Fulcrumm
Subject: There was no real purpose to his existence.

None, whatsoever. At one time he had been a vital part of the Autobot resistance, and an early volunteer for the Micromaster process, the precursor to modern-day Maximals(and Predacons). Fulcrumm had let the scientists strip him down to the barest operating requirements, replacing processors with crude circuitry, exchanging ultrahard metal joints for somewhat hard plastic-like materials. Once the process of "downsizing" had been perfected and the new energon-efficient warriors grouped into teams, early volunteers like Fulcrumm were forgotten. In time the Great War reached an inevitable conclusion, and early collaborations between Autobot and Decepticon scientists, no longer separated by faction and more communicative than the soldiers because in research they found a common language, perhaps resulted in the next phase of Transformer life. Whatever the exact circumstances of their genesis, Cybertronians consisted now of Maximals and Predacons, larger than Micromasters but still smaller than their ancestors.

Fulcrumm was forgotten, easiliy overlooked because of his quiet nature and diminutive size. By the time treatys were hammered out(after several inevitable skirmishes and exhausting conferences), the new "united" Cybertron, seeking efficiency, was focused on making the larger mechanoids smaller, and not vice versa. Fulcrumm would have been hard pressed to find help even if he had been bold enough to ask. Instead he was shoved aside in the gutter as cheering crowds rushed to hear the announcements of the latest breakthroughs. He sank into a deep depression, and his friends, what few he had, also forgot he existed. In time, they met their fates but, in a perhaps crueller turn of events, Fulcrumm continued to function. Barely. When the Vehicons scoured the planet with spark-extractors, Fulcrumm was overlooked. When Primal and Megatron fell to the core and Cybertron itself was reformatted, Fulcrumm found his spark inexplicably still within the same pathetic body, decayed with the years.

He pondered the mystery of his seeming immortality and wondered if Primus himself didn't curse the early scientists for playing "god" and altering his creations. He looked at his reflection in a puddle, still adjusting to water on Cybertron. Once a rare element to this world, it was now plentiful and abundant. Never again would a Scraplet plague pose much of a threat. Still, they wouldn't find much to feast on. Fulcrumm was practically a living stick figure, a metal casing leading up to a boxy head, arms that extended outwards with no traditional shoulders, and long wiry legs. A technological skeleton long ago decayed while clamped in stocks was what he looked like. Considering how much a prisoner the frail Autobot felt like, it was an apt metaphor.

No one suffers forever though, at least not the same suffering. Boredom could be worse than pain. As a wealthy robot in the sense of both of those plagues, he would soon find the former lessened greatly. The latter would be another mater entirely...

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Replies:

Wordlessly, he walked down the alley... -- Fulcrumm, 20:54:02 08/05/01 Sun
- His motion's would have been almost comical... -- Fulcrumm, 22:06:05 08/14/01 Tue
  - "Skkktt---to all in range!! Please help!!!" -- Snipar, 21:34:50 08/19/01 Sun
    - It fit like a glove.... -- Fulcrumm, 14:07:14 09/03/01 Mon
      - It was time for the ultimate test... -- Fulcrumm, 10:41:33 10/27/01 Sat