The sliver of light receded swiftly over the curve of Cybertron, the last of Terra's primary star, Sol, disappearing into the icy blackness of the night. Starlight settled over the metallic planet, making its surface shimmer with a serene bluish light in the eternal starshine. The lights of Iacon glimmered below, spreading to the immediate horizon, Vos and Vilnacron sharp points of diamond light in the distance. Off to to the west lay a deep pool of shadows, the surfaces of abandoned towers and dilapidated buildings glowing in the otherworldly light, disguising the ravages of war. It was a peaceful scene, one that hid the cyber-whores peddling their wares on the streets of Iacon, the chemical sellers with their mind-poisoining fuel additives, the shellshocked, the maimed, the broken, the forgotten.
High above the shimmering surface of her home planet, Razorsharp, former Lady of Darkmount and Decepticon warrior, stood on the balcony of the observation deck and leaned against the railing. She had not forgotten. She knew the hidden horrors of the night. She had lived in the shadows all her life, and some haunted her still.
Gazing out at the silent towers of Old Polyhex, Razorsharp let herself cast back into the near past to find the bright pool of light that was her life in the city's bright twin--New Polyhex, and the fortress of Darkmount contained within its sheltering walls. She hugged her arms to her chestplate, switching off her optics and imagining that her beloved warlord's arms were around her, holding her safe and strong. She imagined it was his breath she heard in her audios, rather than her own, and lifted her chin to receive his phantom kisses along the taut cables of her neck--
A sound startled her--a voice, the sound of laughter. Instantly, the fantasy dissolved, and Razorsharp whirled to see an attractive femme and her equally attractive mate stumble onto the deck, laughing. As they stepped up to the railing, his arms slipped around her slender waist, his huge hands possessively drawing her against him. Sudden methanol tears misted Razorsharp's ruby optics as the femme turned to her mate and let herself be kissed soundly, her whole body leaning into his blocky frame, her optics dimmed in complete submission. The couple was clearly in love, and Razorsharp turned away with a stifled sob.
How cruel, how silently cruel the stars seemed to be now as Razorsharp stared at them, the tiny points of light blurring as her tears formed. In the distance, the small red sphere of Mars winked and flashed like a celestial ruby, and it was enough to make Razorsharp turn and flee the deck, the couple barely taking notice as she transformed into her cyberwolf form and raced down fourteen flights of stairs, rather than take the turbolift. At the bottom, she stopped and transformed, panting from exertion, but still the glaring pain in her soul was there.
There was only one way to wipe away the anguish--a way so private, so secret, that she hid it like a treasure in the deepest, blackest part of herself. The solution called to her, beckoned her with its promise of relief and sanctuary, and she ran for her quarters like a femme chased by Unicron himself.
Bursting into the quarters she shared with Stealth, her mate MadRage and their son Clutch, Razorsharp leaned against the door for a moment to collect her thoughts. MadRage was no where in sight, but Stealth looked up from where she was playing Scrabble with Clutch and raised an optic ridge at her friend.
"Everything okay, Razor?"
Wordlessly, Razorsharp nodded and managed a smile for the benefit of the small green mech who looked questioningly up at her.
"Hey, Razor, wanna play Scrabble with Mommy and me?" Clutch asked, grinning. "I'm winning!"
The Deceptifemme softened her expression, but shook her head.
Stealth, displaying a smoothness that always amazed her friend, picked up the gameboard without missing a beat and led Clutch into the kitchen. "Why don't we finish this in here, and I'll make us a snack?" she suggested, effectively getting Clutch away from the door of Razor's room so she could have some privacy--something Stealth could see Razor was in desperate need of at the moment.
"Yeah!" Clutch cheered, following his mother into the kitchen.
"Thank you, Stealth," Razorsharp whispered after them, then went to the door of her adjoining quarters and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
The rooms she had been given in Iacon were not luxurious, but they were warm and subtly lit, and the decorations clearly had a Decepticon influence. The walls were lit with a faint golden glow, the shadows strategically placed as light itself became a work of art. A beautiful Decepticon emblem hung above her own wide recharge berth, the silver, blue topaz and amethyst plaque glimmering in the half-light, silent tribute to her proud heritage, and the nighttable held the State Portrait of her, Straxus, and the children, all done in dark hues as was the Decepticon custom. Many were the nights she had held the portrait, caressed the faces of her young family, kissed the stern visage of her lord and master, wept over what had been and now could never be again. Tonight, however, would be different. Tonight, tears of pain would be put aside for tears of joy and forgiveness.
In a small corner of her own room, Razorsharp opened a hidden compartment that no one, not even Optimus Prime himself knew about. The children were on a field trip to Autobot City on Earth, and were staying there tonight, so she was alone to do what needed to be done. Her soul sang as the compartment opened to reveal a small, pristine altar to Primus--the Cybertronian deity, the Loving Creator of the Continuum that Razorsharp turned to when the light of hope in her had gone cold. Only with considerable effort did she not fling herself on her face in front of the tiny violet light, the light that reminded her that Primus was always with his children in their darkest hours. Instead, she knelt with a practiced solemnity and removed her helmet, placing it on the floor beside her as mark of opening herself to Primus' guidance.
The long, blue-black strands of synthetic fibre shook free of the confines of her helmet and fell down her back, and Razorsharp sighed as peace settled over her at long last. She joined her half-gauntleted hands palm to palm, and concentrated on the tiny energon flame--a flame that cost her out of her personal ration to keep going, but she felt was her tangible gift to her God---much like an idea she had heard of on Earth, called 'tithing' by humans--giving a part of their earnings toward the message of their Creator. Then, with language nearly older than the stars themselves, Razorsharp began to pray.
"Primus, lord of the continuum, keeper of time, hear your servant Razorsharp--in this, her most trying hour.
"Primus, lord of the Matrixes, governor of light, hear your servant Razorsharp--in this, her most sorrowful time.
"Primus, lord of the stars, guardian of truth, hear your servant Razorsharp--and grant her what she asks of you."
The opening sets of precepts done, Razorsharp felt her soul begin to lift, and felt the love of her deity pour into her like a font of the purest energon she had ever tasted. Her faith, and the Decepticon way of keeping it, remained her only anchor in a sea of Autobot confusion. Her children, when they were young, followed her in these beliefs, but as they had grown, Sirius, Destiny and Velocity had become part of their everyday surroundings. Velocity's only memories of her father and Deceptica were from Razorsharp's stories, and Sirius and Destiny's own recollections were growing dimmer and dimmer as they lived their lives as Autobots, in all but name. It was for this that she now pleaded with Primus for guidance, in how to reconcile both sides of the coin, though she knew the Autobots would not like her methods.
"Hear me, Primus..." she breathed, rocking back on her heels, trying to still her mind and slow her respirations, to center herself--and at the same time, forget her body, the metal and circuits and servos of her physical self, and become immersed in the flowing All of the continuum. Slowly, the feeling of her body ebbed away, and her empathic sense drifted on a sea of peace.
Razorsharp felt the anguish of Rodimus Prime in the quarters down the hall, the very center of his being still a howling maw that screamed his unworthiness to be a leader. She Saw Primus reach down and caress the Prince Prime with a guiding hand, bringing a smile to the young mech as he remembered happier times--a fishing trip with Daniel, war stories with Kup and the Dinobots. Primus gathered Stealth and Clutch into his arms, surrounding them with love and knitting them together in love and laughter, and Razorsharp wept with joy as Clutch threw his arms around his mother and hugged her, both laughing.
Primus took Razorsharp up and down the halls of Iacon, brushing away a tear here, giving a smile there, fusing First Aid with healing warmth as he repaired Springer's dented leg, making 'Magnus laugh at one of Blaster's jokes. Razorsharp watched as Optimus himself, playing three-dimensional chess with Perceptor, took the last of the scientists' pieces and crowed, "Checkmate!" while Perceptor grinned and conceded an amiable defeat. From there, however, Primus took Razorsharp's essence on a journey into sectors she didn't expect, and she felt her amazement grow as she was borne over a city shining under an orange-pink sky.
Thundercracker and Skywarp, playing tag in the sky above Darkmount, laughed and called brotherly taunts to each other as Primus passed, Razorsharp swooping past them and down into the fortress to fill MedBay with silent, healing light. Inspiration dawned in Scrapper's mind as the deity swept along in the Science Institute, and finally up to the control room where Straxus and Soundwave gazed across the pinkish sky, looking at the bright sphere of Cybertron that hung on the horizon. Suddenly, Straxus whirled from the window, his bottomless ruby optics seeming to look right at her formless self.
"....You!" he whispered, a blackness spreading from him like a stain, burning the edges of the brightness in Razorsharp's perception.
Flames were all around her, dangerously close as the blackness burned its way toward her. "Primus, help me!" she screamed silently, and with a noise like light itself ripping in two, Razorsharp was snatched from Straxus' hatred and thrust back into her own reality.
Something cold was against her cheek--and it was several seconds before Razorsharp realized it was the floor. Something blue was near her optics, and it moved--her fingers, coming slowly into focus before her face. She dragged herself to hands and knees, her hair hanging in coolant-drenched clumps over her face, and finally felt the world steal quietly back in. Stealth and Clutch's voices from the kitchen, the sounds of transports outside her window, the hiss of the tiny energon flame on the altar--they all were real and familiar, and Razorsharp realized how deeply her meditation had taken her. A peace was radiating from her core that hadn't been there a while ago, however--so she knew her prayers had been answered.
Respectfully, she gathered up the altar and put it away again, then took a solvent shower to remove the coolant in her hair, reveling in the warmth of the spray. Soon, with her helmet back on, she went out to Stealth and Clutch, finding both on the couch watching Mystery Science Theatre 3000 and laughing hysterically, and she cracked a typical restrained Decepticon smile at their antics.
"Everything alright, Razor?" Stealth asked again, eyeing her friend closely.
Razorsharp smiled.
*The End*
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