Chapter 1: Bolton

It was as if the sound of the chant echoed through time itself. John stood looking towards the supermarket across the road from him and could hear the words so clearly in his head.

“walking down the Manny Road,

To see the Burnden Aces”

The ‘Manny Road’ being Manchester Road where he now stood looking, reflecting on the football stadium Burnden Park once home of those ‘Burnden Aces’, his football team Bolton Wanderers. Many a supporter had walked down this road, singing that exact chant for numerous years. Until the stadium was torn down in the late 1990s replaced by a supermarket and the club relocated to a fancy new, if somewhat inconveniently located, stadium on the outskirts of town. Taking with it a history and a moment in time that was regularly repeated on various Saturday afternoons from early autumn to late spring. That of the town’s people of Bolton men, women and children (though mainly men in the early days to be fair) walking the backstreets of terraced houses down to the joining Manchester Road in front of the stadium. A moment in time, such as it was, that it got immortalised in the painting ‘Going to the Match’ by Salford artist LS Lowry, himself immortalised in a chart-topping song in the 1970s about his famous matchstalk-men style of painting. Many locals despaired when the old stadium was torn down and replaced, though the site’s transformation into a supermarket began in the 1980s when part of the rear terrace of the stadium was replaced by a supermarket- a precursor for the fate of the rest of the stands and the pitch.

John had been there on that final night, with the team seemingly heading for defeat when local hero, his namesake John, pulled off an amazing turnaround, bringing victory from defeat. A pitch invasion and the crowd singing Auld Lang Syne, then walking away and seeing from the distance the floodlights lighting up the local area for one last time being the bittersweet memories of that night. He could hear it all now as if it was yesterday as he stood outside his barbers, the one that had been opposite the stadium for decades, for one final time. After today he’d have no reason to walk down this route, down the old Manny Road, not for club nor haircut.

He gently pushed the door open hearing the tinkle of doorbell as it did so. The bell to bring attention to the barber, Stan, that he had a customer. Not that the bell was truly needed, the cold air from the open door was sufficient to bring Stan’s attention away from the head of the old man in front of him, turning to acknowledge John’s entrance. “Aye up John,” he called, that familiar Boltonian greeting.

“Aye Stan,” John replied.

“Here one last time then?” Stan asked.

“Unless you’ve decide not to retire,” retorted John.

“Bloody cheek!” Stan laughed and turned his attention back to his customer that he’d been casually trimming the old grey hairs shorter for. He’d have his time to talk to John, one of his old regular customers, whilst he cut his hair.

John cast his eye around the room doing a quick count of who was there before him. The old way, none of this modern booking system or taking a ticket. A traditional barbershop way of just knowing your place in the queue relative to the others already there. John had been coming to Stan for over 50 years and he’d never once seen anyone jump the queue. His eyes caught the TV screen in the corner that Stan had recently had installed and was showing the satellite 24 hour news broadcast. Nothing interesting in this, John thought, just boring politics. At his age, John was not interested in the politics of the day- after a while it all became the same nonsense.

As he leaned back on the cushioned brown tatty old leather seat by the window, John looked back and out over to the supermarket. The traffic was heavy on Manchester Road today. John suspected the nearby ring-road, the infamous A666, an unfortunate numbering but offset by being named St Peter’s Way, likely had an incident on it and was closed. It was an increasingly common occurrence, the two lane by-pass designed and built in early 1970s over and above the old canal that had been there, not able to accommodate the higher volume of 21st century traffic. Nobody would have estimated the development back in the 70s. They probably assumed that cars would be flying through the air by 2025. They certainly assumed so in the 80s films of Back to the Future, John mused.

John started to turn his attention back to the room, as Stan dealt with his customer and started brushing the cut hairs off the back of the old guy’s neck, when the corner of his eye noticed a group of service vehicles starting to pass along Manchester Road in front of the barbershop. It was quite a mix of vehicles; police cars, some ambulances, fire engines all heading up the road towards the town centre. A large group but without their sirens blaring.  There was even a police helicopter flying overhead with them. Maybe they’ve come from St Peter’s Way, John thought, and whatever incident they had must be over. It seemed an odd grouping and something about it didn’t quite make sense, but his assessment seemed to be the best logical answer and he put it out of his mind.

“Somat ‘appening out on’t road,” he remarked casually as he watched the group past by.

“Aye ‘appen,” agreed Stan who had seen it all over the years and nothing odd could disturb him any more.

He pulled the black coverall off the shoulders of his customer and gestured to the next person to start taking the seat.

——

The group of service vehicles continued up Manchester Road, reaching the junction that would take them up over Orlando Bridge, over the railway line and towards Thynne Street. Turning right at the roundabout the vehicles seemed to have purpose and kept a formation of authority, yet still did not activate the lights nor sounds of their sirens. At the traffic lights they turned left past the Sweet Green Tavern public house. A mural on the wall recollecting the site of a train accident, recognising and remembering how this route, now a major road junction in the town, had once been more significantly a rail-track for the local coal-mines and interconnected with the canals. Such was the history of the town, with a roaring development during the 1800s as the Industrial Revolution brought the textile industry and cotton mills into the town. Many had now closed, though some buildings remained and the occasional high chimney could still be seen dotted on the landscape. The vehicles passed on through, ignorant of this history as they could only see the large car parks and shopping centres that had replaced such industry. Although, they were headed to one of the few remaining visible landmarks in the town, a prominent evidence of the heady days of that 1800s development with the grand town hall and its high clock tower right in the centre of town.

They reached the side streets behind the town hall, an area known as Le Mans Crescent with a sweeping arc of buildings that surrounded the back of the hall, with a classic architectural style that had become popular in recent years with filmmakers to give imagery of grandeur or foreign locations.

This day being one of those days, with a large silver film truck with a black cab notably parked on the crescent. The hustle and bustle of the film crew buzzed around it, plus numerous ‘high-class’ cars parked by the side of the town hall; Porsches, Lamborghinis owned by the famous director, producers and A - list celebrities in town for the shoot.

Nearby, a single movie camera on a tripod could be seen, with a large boom overhead and bright high-wattage lighting illuminating areas of the crescent which was overcast by the typical grey sky that the town was known for.

Three cars seemed to be the center of attention, all black sports cars with the usual decorations and painting. One, a sleek curved vehicle having a flame blazed down each side. The other two having a more traditional Formula One style, with bright numbering and highlights, one with gold trim, the other with red. It was these two vehicles which were currently the centre of attention and causing consternation to the director whom was stood in the middle of the crescent and gesticulating wildly at the vehicles.

“This one!” he cried to anyone that could hear. “This is the style of car we need! This is a typical Le Mans vehicle. Not these.. Formula One junks!” Strangely, the two disrespected vehicles seemed to shake slightly as if offended by the remarks.

“I’m trying to film a comedy about doing the Le Mans 24 hour race on a loop around Bolton and you bring me just one car?” Bolton was known for having its twin city of Le Mans in France, a city famous for its 24 hour road race around its streets. Taking place in the middle of June, the race had strict and definitive styles of cars that could compete. The black car with the flames being of that style, the two others distinctly not.

“And what the hell’s this?” the director cried in angst noting the large group of service vehicles that had just started to pull up at the top of the crescent. “Why’s the police here?” he shouted to his assistant director nearby whom was equally perplexed and on her phone already attempting to get some answers.

Unbeknownst to the director, the assistant and any of the cast and crew on the streets, the lead police car was able to send a communication to the Le Mans styled vehicle.

“Ricochet?” it simply asked.

“Something odd Prowl,” it responded. “I’m getting numerous signals in the greater region and some more specifically here in the town centre. I just can’t precise how many, but there’s definitely activity.”

“Yet we don’t understand why,” responded Prowl the lead police vehicle. “None of this makes sense. What about these vehicles here?”

“I think we’re surrounded by Stunticons, but I can’t tell which exactly,” Ricochet answered, “some don’t look familiar.”

“Stunticons? That’s not good,” Prowl replied with some frustration. “What about your contact, what does he know?”

“My Botbot friend? He’s over there, the movie camera. Told me he’d seen the two new sports cars arrive yesterday. They’re not part of the set. They seem to have just manoeuvred their way in. The director’s not happy”. Ricochet added the last part with a lower volume and a slight snigger. Having to hide himself on-set and being part of the filming over the last week, he’d got to understand the behaviours of some of the humans around him. In a way, he’d got to know them. As much as a sentient but non-speaking vehicle, to the humans anyway, could get to know the cast and crew. Frustrating the director was something the whole crew seemed to be able to do without even trying.

Across the street, the black cab of the filming truck started to communicate with various cars around him. “I see them. Our cover is blown. We need to wait the signal then move out”.

“And when’s the signal?” replied one of the black sports vehicles, the one with gold highlights. “We’ve been in this damp dingy town for days. All this rainwater is going to make me rust!” he complained.

At that moment another voice broke through on their intercoms. A deep low voice which simply said, “It’s time”.

“Perfect timing!” commented the sports car with great emphasis on ‘perfect’.

“Convenient or coincidence” replied the truck. “No matter we need to get past these pests and over to him. Here’s the route for you all,” and the truck beamed a map to the various cars around him, the sports cars and the Porsches and Lamborghinis.

Instantly the cars all rev’d their engines. The wheels of the sports cars starting to spin with smoke coming from their tyres as the rubber burned. They pulled out at speed from their parking spots on the crescent, heading away from the police vehicles and heading towards the pedestrian area in front of the town hall. Numerous people jumped out of the way, some not making it in time and having legs crushed by the tyres, screaming in agony. The truck itself moved and followed the cars towards the pedestrian zone of Victoria Square. They turned right, passing in front of the town hall and continuing up the zone along Newport Street and heading to the road that would take them out of town.

Behind the truck, the final group of cars, the Porsches and Lamborghinis began to move, knocking over humans and filming equipment as they did so. This all happened in mere seconds after the map had been received and the service vehicles were taken by surprise and struggled to respond. Ricochet was in the best position and carefully passing through the injured humans on the street and trying to avoid further damaging filming equipment, he headed in the same direction as the other cars and the truck. On Victoria Square he halted and parts of his vehicular form started to move and dislocate. Within seconds, what once had been a car, altered its form with complex mechanical changes until it stood a robotic bipedal form, standing tall in front of the town hall steps. In his hand, a weapon of some form that Ricochet raised and took aim with at the distant vehicles.

“No!” shouted Prowl turning the corner, “and transform back! We musn’t be seen”.

Ricochet reluctantly did as he was told and, sped off in his car form after the other vehicles.

“Autobots, we need to follow in vehicle mode. No transformations unless I authorise.”

“Got it Prowl” replied the other service vehicles behind Prowl.

“Prowl,” shouted Ricochet, “they’re heading for the motorway network!”

“This is going to be carnage,” Prowl responded.

_________

Traffic was heavy on the M60 motorway, the ring road around Manchester. Normally peaking at the morning and evening rush hours, it was late morning and yet there was still some residual traffic build-up from the earlier jams. On the connecting motorway from Bolton, the M61 that adjoined to St Peter’s Way, the group of ‘Stunticon’ vehicles headed out of town and towards the direction of the M60 and its queuing traffic. A strange sight, leading the group were the two Formula One type sports vehicles looking somewhat out of place on a British motorway. Straight behind them, the ‘film truck’ now revealed to be a vehicular menace in disguise, followed. Similarly, around the truck there was a group of fast cars of various styles and colours- one cyan, one white Lamborghini, one maroon Porsche with a gold stripe and one brighter coloured red Porsche, one black Ferrari and a yellow dragster. As the road widened to three lanes from the two of the A666, the six rear vehicles pulled alongside either side of the truck, making a formation that fully blocked the three lanes.

Approaching the bend where the M61 connected to the M60, there was a queue of cars starting to build on the bridge that was the on-ramp and connection between the two. The group of vehicles, with the two black sports cars in front, headed to that bridge at full speed. They clearly had no intention to slow and drivers on the bridge looked in their rearview mirrors in horror to see the cars hurtling towards them. Typically, the sports cars would have crumpled on impact to any of the more sturdier designed vehicles they hit. However, the sleek angular form acted like a shovel and each of the slow moving cars was ploughed like snow and thrown over the side of the bridge. Once that section had completed, the cars progressed onto the main motorway. Some drivers, seeing what had happened in their rearview mirrors, tried to rapidly move to the sides using the hard shoulder on the left and the central barrier on the right. It wasn’t enough space though and the cars continued to be ploughed but this time being overturned to collide with or land on top of the neighbouring vehicles. With each hit it was notable that the sports cars did not suffer any damage. If anyone had looked closely, they would have seen a small window of air between each contact of sports car to vehicle. The violent protractors having the ability to generate an electromagnetic field that was used as a shield, a cushion to protect their shells.

The sheer volume of traffic was an issue though. The truck commented to the vehicles surrounding it, “Dead End, Impasse move ahead. Join Crasher and Shadowstrip to clear the path.” The two vehicles did as instructed and joining the two others created a formation that continued to push through the slow-moving vehicles ahead.

Some of the drivers started to get wise to what was occurring and with a survival instinct abandoned their cars in the lanes of the motorway. This had the effect of making it more difficult for the four  Stunticon cars to push through. “This is becoming tedious,” commented the maroon Porsche Dead End, “there’s a more efficient way to do this!” and with that, two panels opened on the rear section of the roof of the car. From the resulting slots, two metallic boxes appeared and from those boxes, metallic cylinders extended outwards in the direction of the front of the car. Extending aligned to the front edge of the roof, additional small modules, smaller cylinders and other mechanical sections protruded from the form. For the humans observing, they clearly recognised these as two weapons and from the centres of the two cylinders, beams of high powered energy appeared and burst forth causing two cars in front to instantly explode so violently that there was little remaining on the road where they were.

“Like that”, Dead End added.

“Good thinking, Dead End!” commented Crasher. The other three vehicles did likewise, panels opening on the roofs or rear sections of their forms and two weapons each extend up and out. Each firing forms of energy, high powered compressed air or balls of plasma, all equally efficient in removing the vehicles in front of them. Smoke, flames and corpses of cars and humans started to litter the sides of the motorway. Yet still the vehicles progressed, with the truck continuing manoeuvring behind them.

Some distance further back, the team of service vehicles started to arrive at the first wave of vehicles that had been hit and where the humans were injured. Prowl, as the lead police car, was shocked by what he saw and started to bark instructions to the supporting vehicles. “First Aid, Ratchet, begin to assess the humans and see who you can help. Let the human service vehicles come through and guide them. Stay in vehicle mode. Use holoprojectors to create a human facsimile construct to do the communicating”

“Got it!” two of the ambulances said.

“Fix it, Road Police, Stakeout- you three can transform because as Micromasters you are a human size, but project a pretender shell over yourselves so that you can interact directly with the humans.”

With those words, one ambulance and two police cars -one black, one white- suddenly leapt into the air and with a speed imperceptible to others watching, each landed on their robotic feet and quickly created an electronic wireframe mesh around themselves that rapidly solidified into a human form, each dressed per the service assistance as their prior vehicle mode. The three then ran to various humans and vehicles to see how they could assist.

Prowl continued, “Inferno, Hot Spot, Artfire, deal with the fires. Stay in vehicle mode. Streetwise, Clampdown, Cordon, Blades, with me, we need to catch up with these... these scrapicons!” Prowl’s anger showing in his final words that he spat out.

The Autobots split as described, medical assistance looking to aid the humans, the fire engines dealing with the fires, smoke and debris. The remaining police vehicles and the police helicopter overheard continuing to head towards the Stunticons ahead of them.

The Autobots neared as the Stunticons pulled off toward the next motorway, onto the M62 and the route that would take them away from Manchester.

The truck, Motormaster, leader of the Stunticons, shouted towards his team, “Drag Strip, Wildrider, swing back behind me and deal with these rust-buckets!”

The two vehicles suddenly spun 180 degrees so the weapons were facing the Autobots chasing them. They drove behind Motormaster, maintaining a formation behind him, continuing to drive at speed but in reverse whilst firing blasts of energy and plasma towards the Autobots.

The Autobot’s own protective shielding was able to resist the bulk of the blasts pummelling them, however the sheer momentum of the blasts were sufficient to slow their progress and prevent them getting close to the Stunticon team.

“Do we fire back?” asked the police car to Prowl’s right.

“No Clampdown,” Prowl answered with some dejection in his tone, “we have strict instructions not to reveal ourselves. We’ll be classed as the same as the Stunticons, the humans will not know the difference.”

Up ahead of the Stunticons, the humans had started to close the motorway and attempted to put in their own blockades. Each blockade proving futile against the sheer power of the weaponry of the Stunticons.

The group turned off the M62 and connected to the M6, one of the major motorways of the British Isles. Despite efforts to close it, there was still some significant residual traffic which was quickly disposed off by fireblasts or the occasionally plough-ramming of the two front sports cars. Further along, the team took another connection this time to the M56 and headed towards the Cheshire area.

At the next junction and with the motorway closed and further police blockades in place, a black 10 wheeler truck and black oil tanker joined the group from a side entrance.

The two new additions pulling to either side of the four lead vehicles. All six blasting through the next roadblock leaving a trial of debris and corpses behind them. After a while the group turned off following signage for Chester Zoo. Behind the group, the Autobots still struggling to follow, weakening under the constant barrage of the two vehicles firing upon them whilst driving in reverse, Clampdown scanned ahead to see what the front group was doing. “They’re heading for the zoo” he shouted.

“How do you know?” asked Prowl.

“I can tell,“ Clampdown replied.

“Confirmed,” chimed in Blades from above, “their general direction seems to be following the signs for Chester Zoo”.

“Do we have any more support coming?” asked Clampdown to Prowl.

“No.” Prowl said simply. “Prime thought we were a sufficient group already.”

“Did you contact him?”

“Been a little busy Clampdown!” Prowl barked.

“Okay, okay” calmed Clampdown and winced as another blast hit his windscreen. “Do you at least have a plan?”

There was a pause from Prowl. “I’m Prowl,” he finally said, “I always have a plan”.

On the next motorway section, heading towards the zoo, the three vehicles inexplicably stopped firing upon the autobots, spinning 180 and sped ahead of Motormaster. Ahead of them the road was blocked again, not by the humans, but by the second truck that had joined with the oil tanker whom had both turned 90 degrees and parked on the motorway leaving a small gap between the two that the cars and Motormaster passed through.

The oil tanker then spun its wheels and span around in an arc spreading liquid from the rear of the tanker section. The second truck then moved off leaving the tanker to fill the road behind them with the liquid which in contact with the road surface immediately caused it to corrode. The liquid being highly acidic. The Autobots breaked suddenly as the road in front crumbled and dissolved into a steaming mud and rock mess. Prowl sat silently as he watched the Stunticon team move away, unable to follow.

Clampdown pulled up beside him, “Still got a plan?”

The humans had also managed to estimate the destination of the vehicles and tried in vain to block their progress to the zoo. On approach, the black truck took the lead and smashed through the gates of the zoo’s car park, pulled onto the grass area near the parking zone and opened its rear section of the zoo.

From inside the zoo, one of the animals picked up a signal and a black panther suddenly leapt out of its enclosure. Humans screamed as the panther ran past them, bounding towards the exit of the zoo. Many jumped out of the way in terror, some grabbing children and holding them close in protection.

The panther entered the opened trailer of the truck, which closed behind it once entered. With a rev of the engine, the truck moved off the grass and away from the zoo, leaving a trail of destruction forged across the North West of England.

In a barbershop on Manchester Road in Bolton, John and Stan stared at the TV screen in shock. Breaking news was showing the devastation on the nearby motorways. An extraordinary terrorist action causing death and destruction. News helicopters had been quick to get to the scene and was showing the stretch of devastation from Bolton to Cheshire. Footage was showing the chase of police vehicles which John recognised as the group that had passed by before. He’d commented to Stan which caused Stan to pause cutting his hair and stare at the screen. Stan grabbed the remote control and turned up the volume so they could hear the reporting.

“.....despite all the carnage and destruction left in their wake, there’s been no confirmation so far of the identity of those responsible. Also, after some activity at Chester Zoo, we are hearing reports that police have been unable to trace their activities afterwards. It’s as if they have simply disappeared...”

As John looked at the repeated footage of the motorway vehicles, a nagging thought he’d had earlier as they passed by the barbershop now came to the forefront of his mind. “They don’t look like normal service vehicles do they?” he said, whilst he remembered the bizarre meeting he and his dog Bounty had whilst out walking a few weeks ago.

It’s finally here! Chapter 1 of Transformers: The Alternates. Over a year in planning and numerous prequels and prologues, this wasn’t even the original planned first Chapter. I think I already alluded to it in a prior posting, though the original starting point was planned to be set at Montreux Jazz Festival. I’m still aiming so… for Chapter 2. But a visit to my hometown last year and this storyline came into my head, with a nod to the famous stadium of Bolton Wanderers, then a trip to Chester Zoo and thinking of the complexity of the Manchester motorway network and what if there was ever a chase across it? Hence Chapter 1 was born and it’s a “love-letter’ to my hometown of Bolton plus the numerous motorway trips I had as a child as we went all over the North West.  I know those motorways too well.

I’d always planned to time this with the Le Mans 24h road race, which is in mid-June.  I’m one week late for posting, but waiting a year has been worth it as I combined the release with the launch of this website.

Recognising my theme for The Alternates is to focus on obscure unknown characters- and yet here I use Prowl, the Protectobots and the Stunticons.  As a child growing up in the 80s, I have fond memories of those classic 80s shows (and 90s) where there would be a pilot episode full of action (that often the rest of the series couldn’t live up to, or reused clips of). For some series’s they had a spin-off series or two (I’m looking at you Star Trek: The Next Generation) and the main characters would always appear to transition and bridge to the new characters. 

In essence, this is what I’m trying to replicate, that sprit of those series’s.  I can just imagine this being a high-octane pilot episode stretching the budget! I hope you enjoy.  Work now begins for Montreux…

As always, Transformers franchise is ownership of Hasbro / Takara Tomy.  This is purely a non profit fan fiction. All images and text are my own. Some images created using AI technology to create the backgrounds only, then manipulated to include photos of my models.