Author's note: To my dear friend, Jayd Hunter for the inspiration, patience and support! Thanks, Bud!
I am god.
Let me rephrase that: I am god of Cybertron. I have accomplished the ultimate in my race. Not only have I the ability to transform. I have the ability to procreate, to create and direct a war that has gone on for millions and millions of years.
More than that, I have the ability and the drive to fully control and manipulate every mechanism on my own planet. My own piece of real estate in the cosmos. The look to me with the awe and reverence that I have worked for over the megania.
But I digress momentarily. I was not always a god. No, no, no. I was once the humble servant to the Autobots; a hero of heroes, the legendary figure. I was revered and beloved by all who knew me and my accomplishments.
Don't be too hasty to think me a saint, however. It's not my intention to rise to sainthood. Sanctity never earned more than a few nods from the religious crowd. The rest . . . is worth more my concern than a few who try to be Primus' placaters. I worked covertly for the Decepticons, too. Oh, they're so childish, thinking they could conquer and rule and destroy at a whim. Not that they've not done that very thing to a number of worlds, but that they have YET to conquer their own home world.
Oh, they came close. They came painfully close. But see here . . . I'm in control. Not Galvatron, not Optimus Prime . . . me.
I'm the real Decepticon in this game. I'm the real villain that Optimus Prime could not destroy. I am the chessboard upon which all the pieces rise and fall. I am the scorekeeper and the referee. I am judge, jury and executioner.
As I sit here within the comfortable spaces of Vector Sigma's mind, I contemplate my next move, my next decision, my next target. I REALLY want to eliminate the present Autobot leadership-Optimus Prime AND Ultra Magnus. They're both loose cannons; unpredictable, dangerous.
One word: Earth. I cannot control the Autobots if they are scattered to the solar winds. If I cannot control the Autobots, I cannot control the Decepticons. And the Decepticons are my special ones. It does not take as much effort to motivate Decepticons.
I spend time contemplating on the infinite that is Vector Sigma. It is capacity barely contained. It is thought beyond mere creature. Vector Sigma is knowledge and experience ages beyond Cybertron.
Primacron saw to that.
Too bad the Quintessons had to tamper with it. -or was it a bad thing? Were it not for the tampering, there would never have been a war. Had there never been a war, the Transformers would never have kicked the Quintessons off and had THAT not happened, they'd all still be enslaved; children of a cold, heartless, greedy society.
And now, millions of years later . . . millions of years and many, many rulers later, I have finally become supreme. But inside Cybertron Vector Sigma sleeps in its chamber, forgotten and neglected.
This was not what I had in mind. When I intended for the Aerialbots to activate, I had hoped to renew the vigor and respect owed to the supercomputer for granting intelligent life. Instead, Optimus Prime directs his new crew back to Earth to fight. And it left me with Vector Sigma all but forgotten.
What can I do to renew their awe and inspiration? How can I become a central part of their lives?
I can start with confusion.
Confusion always distracts the mind. I can confuse both sides so that they will be forced to turn to Vector Sigma, to turn to ME for help.
I will find a way to kill both leaders. I will find a way to inspire the next generation to return to Cybertron, to return to their homeworld.
What's that you say? How can I be so cold-hearted and power mad?
I'm doing it for their own good, naturally. They are children. They do not know what's best for them. And don't worry; I know what I'm doing because I've done it before. Prime Nova. Corruptus (Decepticon war lord), Maximus Prime, Primus Superior . . . they all fell according to my plans. Why? Why the carnage? Why the destruction of entire populations?
Because I CAN.
Madness, you say? No. Not really. I am neither Autobot nor Decepticon.
And now I am Vector Sigma.
It'll get better.
But not at the moment. Somehow, by some remote freak event, Optimus Prime has managed to come back to life!
I swear profusely within my world of comfort and power. How can death be reversed? And what am I to do about it now?
Ah, there . . . something's not quite right anymore. It seems events will turn to my advantage. Yes, I can see how Optimus Prime can be manipulated through dreams and visions . . . I can either redirect him, or destroy him.
I taunt him; overload his mind with thoughts and plans . . . and make new plans of my own.
The plasma energy chamber . . . oh, Vector Sigma tells me there is a way to revitalize Cybertron by using the chamber!!
I/We would be revered! Finally! At last! A way to attain true godhood! We would put the whole planet on reset! We would recreate life and start up a whole new Golden Age!
And THEN all Transformers will live in harmony, worshiping their god of life: Vector Sigma and I, Alpha Trion would be remembered and respected! I will be Sigma's voice and Prime . . . Prime will be ENSLAVED as my puppet, forced to do my every bidding, forced to exist between MY commands and desires and those of his people. And every Prime after him will suffer the very same fate.
I will molest them all.
The Quintessons thought Megatron was their ultimate achievement.
Vector Sigma will be mine.
With its power and my right to rulership, Cybertron will become the mighty empire it was destined to be. Autobots will serve me and the Decepticons will protect me. And all worlds will think of Cybertron and Vector Sigma as one of the great wonders of the galaxy-of the universe!
Wait . . . wait a minute.
Something's not right. There's a white spark, hot, searing; it tears right through Vector Sigma's chamber; right through me.
Was that supposed to happen?
There it is again!
What's that I see? It's so bright, like . . . light caught on fire; a type of light I've never seen before. It's . . . it's wordlessly magnificent!
Wait . . . it speaks. Yes, it's saying something.
Don't you know who and what I am? I am the god of Cybertron! You cannot destroy me . . . I have a destiny! I have a people who will come to adore me!
No! You can't take that! You can't do that!
Nothing I say or attempt or reason or excuse I make does any good.
To my utter horror, I am taken from Vector Sigma and I watch as its light fails, its insides shrivel, its knowledge lost to the ages. It falls oh so slowly, painfully. It takes all my hopes and dreams with it. It falls and shatters upon the floor, a pile of charred and broken glass.
And I am taken to a place of indescribable horror.