Kicker’s trainers squelched violently across the muddy path of the forests of Sutherland as he brushed past the darkness of the forest, an angered look on his face, veins throbbing in his young adolescent temples. Screeching to a halt, almost slipping and falling in the mud, he was able to catch his breath for a second before calling out into the blackness of the forest.
“OPTIMUS! Come out! I know you’re there, now succumb to the wrath of the most annoying Transformers character ever!!”
No response. Only his echo haunted the entire forest. Okay, this is beginning to get a bit eerie, he thought to himself. A little panicked but still with a brave face struggling to form where his lips were shaking nervously, he took a gun from out of nowhere and crept along the forest, like an undercover army agent on the prowl. The entire forest stood to a standstill as he prowled along the muddy path, trying to look for that traitor of a cast member Optimjus. Should he find him, he would blast his insides to smithereeens, and then he’ll be sorry he made him the star of Transformers Energon.
Ironhide wanted revenge too, but, nope, he was at home due to house arrest from causing hormonal trouble.
SPROING!
“AAAAARGH!”
There was Kicker, hanging upside down by a jungle vine. The forest to him seemed a bit upsy daisy too, like it had just turned head over heels magically. Now he was feeling scared. Who had bound him by his ankles?
Just then, who should emerge from the trees but his old friend from the set of Energon, Inferno, a wicked smile spread across his face, clapping slowly.
“A-haaaaa,” he hissed, so slyly that Energon spit burst from his teeth.
“So, Kicker, it’s ever so great to see you again. Or is it, not great?”
“You Decepticonic Autobot!” shouted Kicker, pummeling his fists into the air, as if a punching bag should appear out of nowhere.
“Oh I may be an Autobot, or a Decepticon, but you know who I am?”
Kicker was so terrified he almost ran out of words, so he just murmured to himself shyly. Inferno growled fiercely.
“Okay then, well I’ll tell you.” he hissed. He took a deep breath and roared:
“NEITHER!”
“Neither?!” gasped Kicker, feeling his intestines come up to his throat.
“Of course. You see, on the set of Transformers Energon we were forced to wear these painful patches which made us look like either Autobots or Decepticons. But let me tell you this, Kicker: the producers didn’t say they were stickers at all. Instead, it was hot, molten steel carved into Autobot and Decepticon insignia. And before production on Energon started, nothing was totally and utterly painful as being stabbed in the chest with hot steel.”
His voice got lower as he leaned closer to Kicker’s sweating, panicked face.
“And who do you think is responsible for asking us to be stabbed with hot coals?”
Kicker mumbled in response, but in a little matter of time, he managed to find his words.
“M-m-m-me?”
“Yeeessss,” hissed Inferno, doing his best ever impression of Beast Wars Megatron, “Of course it’s you. You ruined our lives ever since-”
But then he noticed a small piece of coffee-stained blue paper in Kicker’s T shirt pocket, which was already stained itself decorated in blood and tea marks.
“Well, I think I’ve found the evidence,” chuckled Inferno triumphantly, “It seems like my little plan is working.”
“No no no no, you’re taking it too far InfernAAAAAARGH!”
Kicker screamed as Inferno sharply removed the piece of paper from his pocket, and said:
“You give more nos than those in the truth you’re about the hear!”
“Y-You mean…?!” Kicker began, but Inferno just hissed.
“No exceptions.”
He unfolded the dirty-looking piece of paper and began to read. But just before he could do that, he squinted at the orange marker writing on the paper.
“Hang about, that’s….that’s….that’s Michael Bay’s writing!”
Kicker just managed to put up a nervous smile as Inferno began to read:
“Dear Kicker,
I am pleased to inform you that you are to be the co-director of my new Transformers film I am working on. Your job as my assistant is the make sure the film is so loud and sensory-unfriendly that no one would ever get pleasure out of seeing the Transformers ever again. I predict that in the future, the Transformers I created will air non stop on Sky Movies, and if they do, we will make a ton of money.
Congratulations and see you soon.
Yours faithfully,
Michael Bay.”
Inferno gasped and felt his metallic intestines in his throat. But there was one last detail on the letter that was probably the most horrifying out of everything else: a small foamy blob of orange citrus milkshake to make it look like an explosion.
Inferno was FURIOUS! He took the letter and ripped it to a million pieces, much to Kicker’s horror. He struggled and squirmed, trying to free himself from his trap, but it was no use. He could only scream and shout.
“No, Inferno, please! That’s my contract! It was what launched the brand into worldwide juggernaut status!”
“Juggernaut…status?” hissed Inferno. There was a short silence. Then Inferno burst out laughing.
“Priceless!” And then, his laughter turned sinister and low. “Not.”
“Not? Why do you think so?”
“I think so because you were responsible for ruining the franchise, just by turning the live action movies into a montage of people like Sam ‘I’m So Loud I Could Lose My Voice’ Witwicky screaming and yelling, not to mention all those flashing explosions. I’ve never EVER heard of such sensory overwhelm.”
“Okay, okay, I’ve heard of all your sinister talk, now please, will you just let me go?”
This was the catalyst of Inferno’s fury towards the stupid young man. From out of nowhere, he took out a pocket knife and aimed it at Kicker’s throat.
“No, more, Energon talk.” was his goodbye for the annoying young scamp, before Kicker’s pained screams and slashes of a knife erupted across the forest.
In the morning, everything was quiet. Inferno had left a trail of giant footprints on the soft muddy ground. And what was left of Kicker, I hear you say? Well, he was just a shrivelled up corpse hanging by his leg from the tree, and as a result, all his insides were sprawled out everywhere.
Then, Ironhide entered the scene. Instead of reacting with horror and shock, he just said the word, the name, the noun we’ve all been dreading him to say.
“.....Kicker?”
And then he didn’t mind. Guess what he did next?
He drank Kicker’s blood. Unbeknownst to him, however, the blood leaked into some cryptic, horrific words. Those words haunted any Transformers fanboy or girl that ever came into these words.
“We want Energon!”
Til all are DEAD!
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