Author's Note: This story assumes that the Deceptions were merely defeated and retreated, and that Megatron survived. This story's Beta Reader is Phoenicis Lunae.
- Endgame -
A Transformers and 1984 Crossover
Chapter One - In Medias Res
A clatter of gunfire sounded in the distance, echoing through the ruined streets of the town. Burned and shot-up houses lined the empty streets, and a United States flag in front of the post office hung upside down on a flagpole, signalling distress to those would could recognize it.
Come on, Sam, you've got to pull yourself up! the young man thought desperately. Slowly, he stood up, his trembling form marred with purple and black bruises.
"Bumblebee? You okay?" Sam called, looking around, but the yellow Transformer was nowhere to be found. A nearby green soldier had been punched into the wall beside him, and another one, lying lifelessly on the ground, had a completely crushed head. Both were wearing full body armor and helmets.
To Sam's left flew a swarm of identical looking, short, gray soldiers, all of whom wore helmets that completely masked their faces. The platoon of locust-like humanoids were armed with a pickaxe in one hand, and either a small submachine gun or shotgun in the other...and every one of them made a great use of their close-range weapons, running at an inhuman speed towards their target.
Behind them formed a loose line of taller, green infantry units, all of which were armed with rifles with a small label "Gauss Rifle Model CR1A" on the bottom of the rifles. These particular guns had conductive coils around their barrels, utilizing electromagnetism to propel the projectiles stored within. Judging from the destruction surrounding them, each of these rifles bore enough power to wreck both helicopter gunships and lightly armored vehicles.
Firing their weapons, the first group attacked in waves, the soldiers behind them moving up and firing as well. Cautious, the squadron carefully calculated their assaults, and frequently took cover. Even when taking pistol fire from the humans, the infantry units ducked, although their armor suits proved effective against much of their enemies' small arms fire.
Behind the green infantry, a very straight line of large, looming, black-colored infantry assembled. Each of these units bore an armband titled "Ingsoc", coupled with the distinctive symbol of two hands clasped in front of a V.
All of the black infantry units were armed with railguns, save for one, the latter of which carried an Ingsoc flag. Each railgun used the same electromagnetism of their comrades' weapons to propel rounds at seven times the speed of sound, but with parallel, conductive rails. Though these railguns only held one round, appeared to fire at a sluggish pace, and proved prone to overheating, the guns held enough penetration power to leave deep dents in their opponents' tanks. Even if the railgun rounds miss their intended marks, their hypersonic rounds suppressed the humans with powerful shockwaves, preventing them from firing back.
Lining up in perfectly straight rows, the black infantry formed an impenetrable wall, save for a single gap in their ranks. One of them straggled behind, having walked over a bear trap, and was wasting time, shooting the device entangled around its leg.
When the straggler finally filled the gap, the first row fired over the shorter, green units and gray infantry. After briefly recovering from the recoil, they kneeled, giving their railguns time to cool down and recharge.
Firing over the first row, the second row rained a hail of bullets upon the enemy. Their perfectly synchronized cycle repeated until all of the rows had fired; then, the first row got up again, restarting the process.
A few bullets from a few police officers harmlessly ricocheted off of the black line infantry platoon, and Molotov cocktail was thrown from a house, engulfing a significant portion of the platoon in an inferno. Yet the opposing platoon didn't so much as flinch, apparently unresponsive and unaffected by small arms fire and gasoline-fed inferno.
The platoon did flinch when an anti-tank missile, fired from one of the humans' armored personnel carriers, sliced through about half a row of soldiers. The first assault was followed by several cannon rounds, making a lethal mess of the soldiers' heads.
Repositioning themselves to face the offending missile-armed vehicle, the opposing army gave time for the vehicle to fire a second missile, and more cannon rounds, at their ranks. However, the vehicle's armed passengers had left a while ago, and its former occupants had since been killed.
"Haha! I love it when they refuse to shoot at things that aren't directly in front of them, and prefer to shuffle around! Too bad they aren't as smart as the other ones!" the vehicle's driver laughed as the weapon operator fired another missile, slicing additional black line infantry into halves.
There were some loud pings from gray infantry firing on the vehicle, but it didn't concern the crew too much. The gray infantry's weapons lacked sufficient power to pose any threat to armored vehicles, and thus, they ignored the gray soldiers' attack. Any green infantry with their more potent rifles were either suppressed or frightened away with counter machine gun and cannon fire.
The humans' fun finally ended when a fifteen feet tall, heavily armored bipedal mech unit ambushed them from behind. Stunning the vehicle's crew with a healthy dosage of grenades, the mech unit allowed the black line of infantry to finally reposition itself, destroying the humans' vehicle with a volley of railgun rounds.
To Sam's right, the local police force was attempting to buy time for the children at a nearby elementary school to board evacuation buses. Meanwhile, the fire department sprayed high pressure water at the swarmer gray infantry, pushing the opposing units back. Enemy rifles and rail guns bullets tore through the vehicles and humans akin to a knife through tissue paper, and the swarmer gray infantry closed in rapidly. Soon, the gray units engaged in a lopsided hand-to-hand combat with the human survivors, sometimes delivering an entire magazine of bullets or buckshot into their targets' faces.
In a cornfield some distance away, a thirty story tall machine of war painted with monochrome colors that were broken solely by a single, red eye, and two Ingsoc flag symbols painted on the left and right side, made a mincemeat of the National Guard. As it slowly strutted towards the humans with its quadruple legs, a large, steady stream of dust was being inhaled into the underside of the machine of war. It was a coal-powered variant, and thus required a significant amount of air to burn enough coal to operate the weapons.
Swinging its massive octuple rail guns armed on its left and right side, along with ultra-high energy infrared laser weapons, the machine tore through the humans with ease. Each of the weapons carried four red laser pointers, capable of selecting separate targets. Intimidating and demoralizing the humans, the machine ensured that anyone or anything with a fat red dot on on its' radar had an approximately twenty-five percent chance of being boiled alive or vaporized with large rounds flying at nine times the speed of sound...nor did it help that the seemly indestructible machine was shouting propaganda through its megaphones.
Suddenly, something - or someone - yanked Sam out of the rubble.
"You are ordered to meet an InPart member!" shouted a green skirmisher infantry at Sam in broken English.
"A what?" Sam asked, confused.
"Inner Party member! Your speak is uselessly plushard!"
"So, what's his job?" Sam responded.
"Thinkpol. Removing Thoughtcrime," the machine uttered.
"In English, please?"
"Thought Police. Quiet!"
Meanwhile, human children screamed as a dozen of large projectiles rained from the sky, lading around the evacuation area. Before long, the projectiles' shells opened, and revealed themselves to be automated turrets.
Dragging Sam, the green soldier carried him towards an air blimp as the turrets fired.
Prologue, before Oceania arrived at Earth
"Sam! I need the project files by next month, or there's going to be consequences! You're not senior enough in this company to slack off!" Sam's boss barked.
"But I'm going to a vacation tomorrow for two weeks. I mentioned it to you about six months ago," Sam protested, looking earnestly at the man seated across from him.
Sam's boss was silent for a few seconds.
"Fine. I'll just go and bully the new guy," the executive conceded, eyeing his employee.
"Thanks, Mr. Charles," Sam replied with a smile.
Turning and striding out of Mr. Charles' office, Sam packed up his bag and left his cubicle. Then, picking up his cell phone, he dialed a number.
"Hey Carly, I was wondering, do you still want to go with me on the vaca-"
There was a loud click, and the call was canceled. A repeat of a text message was sent to him two weeks ago arrived a few seconds later.
'You're not my boyfriend anymore.'
Shaking his head, Sam headed out to the parking lot, and observed a carjacker breaking into Bumblebee.
As soon as the thief attempted to hotwire the ignition, all of the doors were automatically hard locked, and Bumblebee took off for a joyride to teach the unlucky carjacker a lesson. Of course, the poor guy started screaming, and uselessly attempted to open the door and window when he realized that he broke into the wrong car.
"I guess I'll have to take the bus...again," Sam muttered, sighing.
Disclaimer:I do not own the Transformer's or 1984's franchise rights.