_Beep!_
"Hm?" The radar began to chirp, and I lowered my blade-sharpening kit just long enough to glance over at the screen. The outdated equipment was as good as I could get--being on your own meant you mostly had to take potluck with that kind of stuff--but with a few adjustments, it served my purposes. Now the big sweep of the dial picked up a small, red dot, and I laid my work aside to refine the sensors. "Magnify."
The magnification wasn't great, but it was clear enough to identify a large, bipedal heat source. Most likely a neutral, having strayed too far away from the city. From my reflection in the dark screen, I saw a gleam of anticipation light my ruby-crystal optics. Whoever it was, they were about to have a very bad day.
_Primus. I had forgotten the destruction was so widespread. Being on Earth for as many vorns as I have, I sometimes fail to remember just how much my own people are suffering._ I stood and surveyed what once had been a thriving, peaceful Autobot neighborhood, shaking my head in disgust as I saw little life in this burned-out slum. What made matters worse, is that I knew this neighborhood like the back of my own hand. This is where I had grown up. This place held the key to my past, this is where I was rooted. Now it was nothing more than ground zero of the Cybertronian Wars. I turned away, unable to bear the sight.
Walking down a familiar street, I glanced at the shells of buildings; old haunts, the homes of friends and mentors, the primary school down the street I had attended as a youngster. I gazed into the shattered glass of the school's front entrance, and part of me was startled at the face that looked back. Between the crazy, disjointed angles of the glass, I saw someone much older, much more careworn than I had ever thought I would be. Others called it "sagely" or "distinguished"--I just called it tired. Tired of this damned war.
"Ultra Magnus to Optimus Prime, come in." The radio crackled, startling me out of my reverie enough to make me jump slightly.
"Optimus here. Go ahead." No doubt 'Magnus was wondering where I was; the rest of the squadron had passed through this sector several clicks ago. I was the only one who stayed behind. It wasn't every day I got a chance to roll through my old neighborhood, but by the looks of things, maybe it would have been better to stay away. I preferred my memories of Cybertron's Golden Age unspoiled, the way I remembered them.
"Forgive my impertinance, Prime, but that's not such a good place to be hanging around alone."
I smiled to myself. 'Magnus would not come down here, though he had lived across the street from me until we joined the Academy together. He, too, preferred his memories unsullied. "I can take care of myself, Commander. I'm just having a look around."
"I'm sending Springer and Arcee out there to meet you."
I was suddenly irritated. "Did I request backup?"
A pause. 'Magnus was clearly not used to being talked to like that, and I chided myself mentally for snapping at him. "N-o, you didn't," he said slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. " Still, I would like it better if--"
"I understand your concern, Commander. I'm fine, and I'll be back within the cycle. Prime out." There. I tuned out every frequency except the emergency band, a small smirk of triumph on my face behind the battlemask. _Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, 'Mag,_ I thought, using an Earth expression I had heard somewhere. However, as the moments went on, I wondered if 'Magnus' concern was warranted--the shadows were deep and black in this place, shattered doorframes and darkened windows offering a thousand opportunities for ambush. I touched the reassuring presence of my rifle as it lay clipped to my thigh, quite certain that I could defend myself-- that is, if I stopped jumping at shadows.
I crept along the shadows as I followed the tall robot along the street, sneaking my steps from building to building, taking refuge in the darkened spaces between alleys. My blade was a reassuring prescence strapped to my back, designed to be drawn from left to right for right-handed combat. I had a blaster in my subspace storage, but there was something thrilling about setting my gleaming, polished chrome sabre under a quaking chin and splitting someone's head open. This guy looked like he was bigger than I was--as femmes go, I was average, at about seventeen feet--but the bigger they were, the more noise they made when they hit the ground.
The orange-and-blue robot had stopped a few feet behind me, so I backtracked quickly and watched as he stood before what had been a modest home. Blastmarks and divots pitted the front steps, there were gaping holes in the walls, and the roof had caved in over time, and I wondered why the guy even bothered. No one except me had been here in a ton of vorns, but I had my own reasons for that. This one had come here voluntarily. I drew my blade halfway out of my scabbard, preparing to leap forward on silent feet. _Some people just don't get it,_ I thought with a smrik. Such idiocy as to come back to a battlezone--alone, no less-- was worthy of my filleting him right between his shoulders and ripping out his central neural cable.
I stepped back as a turbo-rat scuttled across my foot, brushing the filthy vermin away with the tip of my blade. Startled, the rodent gave a squeal and ran into a garbage heap across the alley, and I flattened myself into the darkness as the big guy whirled around at the noise. A streetlight blinked on and off above him, casting a flickering pool of dark and bright on the tarmac between us, and I silently drew my blade as I watched him walk closer. _That's right, come on. Let's have a look at you, big fellow, so I remember what you used to look like before I rearrange your faceplate._ Almost as if he had heard me, the tall robot stepped into the pool of light, revealing himself from the soles of his boots on up. Despite my concentration, I felt my jaw drop and my optics widen as the beam bridged its short and stayed on steadily, the harsh light inching up the stranger's hull as he stepped slowly into the light.
Blue-steel boots gave way to powerful thighs, one of which bore a heavy laser rifle that I knew was of old military issue. Narrow hips, a bright grillwork corded with tightly woven steel cables of pure muscle, large blue-steel hands resting comfortably at his sides at the end of long, orange-plated arms. Twin panes of glass set into his chestplate sparked my memory, and by the time the light revealed his curved faceplate and crested helm, my energon was running cold with recognition. To make doubly sure, I checked for the Autobot symbol I knew would be blazoned on one broad shoulder, and sure enough, there it was, painted in deep red over the embossed sigil. Then, almost as if he saw me through the shadows, his brilliant blue optics met mine, and I nearly dropped my blade in surprise. This was not merely some punk youngster looking for a thrill, nor was it some neutral that stumbled off course into my turf. This was Optimus Prime himself.
I stood for long moments like that, my regulator hammering against my chestplate and my breath coming in small rasps, loud enough in my own audiosensors that I was sure he heard them. However, Prime turned away after a few moments more, and I sagged against the wall in something akin to relief. He had not seen me, since I was in shadow, and his optics would not be able to polarize beyond the edge of the puddle of light he was standing in. I noticed his hands were still relaxed at his sides, the rifle still strapped to his thigh, and a wolfish grin spread across my faceplate. He was alone, and though he could reach his weapon easily, his obvious distraction would make it simple to pre-empt any ideas of powering it up. Even the safety was on. What a geek. _Well,_ I thought to myself, slipping out of my shadow and holding my blade horizonally in front of me, _he sure as the Inferno made a big mistake coming here._
I felt a little sheepish for being startled--it was only a turbo-rat, for Primus' sake. There was something about this place, however...something that gave me the strange feeling I was being watched. _Impossible. You stopped believing in things like that when you were twenty vorns old._ Still, the sensation persisted, and I decided it might be wise to step out of the light and keep moving. I cast one last look at the burnt-out ruin of my home sector, then started to turn back to the main road to Iacon.
A flash of light on bright metal. A footfall so light behind me, it might have been a Terran feline. Then a female voice, almost a lover's whisper, if there had not been an underlying current of silken death in the purring words. "Twitch and you become food for the smelting pool, Autobot." Another flash of polished metal, then the sting of a blade as it bit softly, like the nip of a berth-mate, into the side of my neck. I felt a warm trickle ooze from the wound , the viscous drops landing with a soft "I have been taken from behind," I muttered more to myself than the silent shadow at my back. "I am such a fool...." I tensed to whirl and grab my rifle in one fluid motion, but there was another flash of metal--the streetlight reflecting off a long, wicked blade, I realized--and the shadow stepped away to circle the edge of the puddle of light. Silken, deadly laughter. "Aye, I would agree." The voice seemed to come from the opposite direction. "Lesson one: Never leave your back undefended," she said, amusement tinging the words as I shifted my stance to follow the sound. _Razorsharp,_ my databanks supplied, matching her voice and energy signature to someone I had thought to be long dead. She was the only femme I knew that preferred a blade to a pistol, and the only one who would enjoy the hunt more than the actual kill. If she didn't, she would have already run me through twice over. "So, are you gonna kill me?" I challenged, trying to bring her out into the open. I switched my optics to infrared, and I could just make her out at the edge of the light, her blade glinting like a beacon where she swung it into the beam, taunting with hints of her location. I remembered her well; she would have been beautiful, if not for the cruel set of her mouth and the cold light in her ruby red optics. She had been unfortunate enough to catch Megatron's interest, both as a warrior and as one of his interface whores, but Razorsharp had disdained both questionable distinctions. Megatron's jealousy as a lover mirrored his ruthlessness as a warrior, and when she had challenged him to a duel as an equal, refusing to submit to his command or his lustful advances, it had meant public humilation for him. She chose to fight him in the midst of a battle that was already raging between our two factions, nearly carving him--and more to the point, his pride--to ribbons. She had fought like a demon, but her rage made it easy for him to trip her up, almost casually leaving his boot where she would stumble as she feinted towards him. I had been the only one who did not retch my holding tanks empty as Megatron blasted a hole in her with his fusion cannon against her chest. How he had laughed at her as she convulsed, laughing as energon surged out of her mouth, laughing as she coughed out her life. _Primus, how had she survived?_ I wondered. I guessed it was the hatred I now saw gleaming in her optics as she stepped into the light. "Don't delay, or you risk the chance of being taken yourself." His words echoed off the shattered buildings, and I continued to skirt the edge of the light, watching him as he tried in vain to follow my voice. The echoes made it impossible, and I kept my optics glued to one blue-steel hand as it twitched just above the safety on his rifle. He had always carried that howitzer, a point of loyalty I never understood. But there again, I was loyal to my blade, and it never failed me. I wondered if that had ever happened to Prime, a sure defense failing him when he needed it most. I had experienced that, but I shoved the memory out of my processor for the moment and turned to savoring this, the ultimate conquest. "Hm, what to do?" I taunted, as if the fate of his spark was like what color to paint my plating or which male to bestow my favor on. "Now that I have the great Optimus Prime in my hands, what to do?" I put an unflattering stress on the word 'great', and I saw his optics narrow in a barely noticable concession to pride. I stepped into the light, revealing myself to him, and he took a step backwards, his body tense in a defensive half-crouch. He hadn't changed in a thousand vorns, and some part of me grasped that familiarity like a drowning human would a piece of driftwood. Everything around me had changed, but what was inside had never lessened with time. Hate was the only thing I could trust, and Prime standing before me was like a walking anachronism, harkening back to when I was still mistress of my own domain. It was Megatron's thought that if he could not coerce me into his army--and his bed--he would make me submit by force. I still could not recall the incident, only the pain that followed. Megatron had claimed me for his own then, having his own troops repair me in the Decepticon stronghold, indebting me to him as long as I functioned. I hated that. I hated Prime even more for standing by as I puked energon through my air filters, his optics glowing softly with pity and compassion. Those blue blazes of light were my last memory, and my last thought had been a vow; a vow to make Prime feel the pain I had felt. Now my chance was here. I intended to stretch time itself, if I could, to make the moments last longer, to make his screams echo forever. "Feeding you to the smelting pool would be too easy. Kill you? No, there is much more satisfaction to be had than that. Groveling is more what I had in mind." _Groveling first, then your ever-so-excruciating death._ I had waited an eternity for this, a few moments more wouldn't make much difference. Especially if I could hear him beg for mercy, the way I did. I wanted him to betray his pride, betray his stoic mask and beg me to end his life, anything to make the pain stop. I planned to humiliate him just as Megatron humiliated me, while Prime had stood by and done nothing, contradicting his own ideals of compassion for all those who suffered. "But I don't expect you to give in without a fight...which is what I'm going to enjoy most." I waved my blade in his face, making the light jump off the highly polished surface. Prime didn't flinch. "If it is a fight you are looking for, then that is what you will get." He moved his hand closer to his rifle, mere micro-inches above it, the weapon well-oiled and maintained despite its nearly daily use for the past four million Earthyears. "Expect no such groveling from me." I laughed at his bravado; even that part of him had not changed. "As you say. If you did indeed, I would kill you instantly, now that I think on it." I couldn't help the way I spoke, my words still coming to me in the old-fashioned speech patterns, and from the sound of it, he could not help it either. The human word 'gonna' had been his only attempt so far, and it had sounded odd coming from behind his faceplate. I shrugged. Enough of this idle banter. "Ah well." I shifted my blade from my left to my right, preparing to charge him. "Defend yourself, Autobot," I growled, then lunged toward him with a motion I had practiced many times in anticipation of this moment. She hurled herself at me with more speed than I calculated, but I managed to sidestep her graceful, deadly swing and draw my own rifle. The familiar weight of it in my hand instantly honed my senses as sharp as her own blade, and I knew I would need that extra perception. "You must do better than that if you wish to take me down," I goaded her, knowing she would become angry and make mistakes, just as she had eons before. Sure enough, Razorsharp overcorrected as she landed from an impressive vault away from me, slipping on the rubble underfoot, and I heard her curse into the darkness. Razorsharp glared up at me, her frustration evident. It was then I knew she wanted to kill me because I had let her suffer a humiliating fate at Megatron's hands, the memory of that long-ago battle coming back to me in one fell swoop. _It was not my fight!_ I wanted to shout at her, _I could not interfere!_ Even the Decepticons had some sense of protocol, and my own honor meant enough to me that I could not take hers away, shaming her by giving her the coup de grace. I had been her enemy that day, an unfortunate observer, and my rifle to her head would have constituted murder. Megatron alone could grant her mercy, and he had chosen sadism over compassion. The memory still sickened me. "I will run you through for that bit of insolence!" Razorsharp screamed, and I threw up my forearm to block a vicious slash of her gleaming blade, dropping my rifle as I did so. The diamond tip would have sheared my faceplate in half if it were not for that reflex, and she spit like a cat as she saw that the deep gash in my arm was the only wound I carried from her effort. "You are fast," I observed, almost meaning it as a compliment. "But the damage is minimal." Throwing a roundhouse punch, I caught her pointed chin with my fist, then followed through and scooped up my rifle from where it lay on the tarmac. Razorsharp lay sprawled at my feet, stunned, pretending that I had just violated some sort of ancient code of ethics by dropping her on flat her skidplate. She simpered, "You dare strike a female? Megatron was right! You are nothing but a coward and a bully." Her blade had been lost in the tussle, but she called a small, high-powered laser pistol out of subspace and leveled it at me. The gleaming red sight flashed, blinding me for half a micro-second; she was aiming right at the join of my helmet, just above my optics. "You won't escape with a scratch this time." I stood my ground calmly, which unnerved her further, the laserlight swaying. Carly Witwicky and I had had our only known disagreement over this same point once, but I had reminded her that our ways were not the humans' ways, and where humans might think me--what was it she said? A male chauvanist?--I was adhering to the ways of Cybertron. It mattered little who attacked, self-defense was the important thing, and it had been milennia before our kind ever distinguished between male and female. Male chauvanist or not, I followed the only way I knew. _Yes, Razorsharp,_ I thought to myself, _I struck you. And if you try and shoot me, I will have no qualms about doing it again._ "You are a female in form, but your actions speak otherwise," I said aloud. Her optics narrowed. "I will concede that. I'm you're worst nightmare." I saw her finger tighten on the trigger and ducked at the last possible instant, tucking into a roll and thumbing the button to power up my rifle as I went. "Do you wish to end your existance??" I yelled at her, anxious to get the battle on, if there was a battle to be had. I would waste no more time with idle chatter. "You first." "So far, none of them have proved a challenge. You, however, are too legendary. I would be a fool to pass up a chance at logging my name in the annals of history." Razorsharp trained her weapon on me once more, backing out of my reach if I were to try batting the gun out of her hand. " Especially if I add the distinction of your head on a silver platter." She smiled coldly, the harlequin markings on her faceplate looking like the teeth of her cyberwolf transformation. Then she leapt at me, a flurry of shots spraying the tarmac, burning divots into the street. I gave a gutteral yell, the sound turning into a howl of rage. Somehow, she had brought out almost an animal side of me, and I felt my civility melt away as I clashed with her, our shadows coiling around each other on the shattered walls. "My head is something you will never have the privilege of getting!!" We danced around each other, feinting and throwing blows, dodging and ducking laser blasts for what seemed like eternity. My energon hummed with pleasure; I was made to be a killing machine from day one. Most of the time I tried to deny that dark, seething part of me that wanted to rip open my opposition, but Razorsharp's taunts and long, drawn out battledance had brought it boiling to the surface. Now I embraced it, hunting her, stalking her in the shadows. I faked to the left, then lunged to the right as she tried to spring over my shoulder, and I grabbed one of her slender ankles as she tumbled past. She landed in an undignified sprawl at my feet for the second time that day, her chestplate heaving with exertion. "Damn!" she swore, scrambling to raise herself on her elbows, but she froze as I leveled my rifle at her. I was almost disappointed. "And you call yourself a warrior," I spat, knocking her weapon out of her hand with a precise blast of laserfire. "Such is the life in fairy tales, Decepticon," I said evenly, watching her wince as I spoke the hated name of her own affiliation. The Decepticon sigil gleamed back from her chestplate, and she looked at it like it was a grotesque scar, a stricken expression on her faceplate. "Such is the life. But not here." Then I did something I thought I would never do; I placed the barrel of my rifle flush against her head, just as Megatron had jammed his fusion cannon into her chest. Terror flickered deep in her optics, but she compressed her mouth into a thin, hard line and said nothing. "Now give me a reason why I should let you leave unharmed." _NO!_ Memory surged back at me as Prime's rifle met my forehead with a dull "I am a boring corpse." I pulled a thin, reedy laugh out of somewhere, knowing that Prime had managed to best me yet again. Instead of me humiliating him, he had turned the tables and broken me just as Megatron had. It was at that moment I saw that we were all the same--Autobot and Decepticon, even neutral and Earthling. We all had our breaking points, we all had our faults, no matter how hard we tried to deny them. Mine was pride. Prime's was keeping a tight lid on his anger at the destruction he saw around him every day. I could respect that; anger was an emotion I could trust. "Think on it, Prime. Someday you may catch me in a fair fight. I'm a much more interesting diversion than briefings and patrols." His optics narrowed, but I continued. "Who knows, you might even forget that little scrapling--what was her name? Alita?" I had gone for the jugular, as the humans said, unable to resist the opportunity to gain back a little of the pride I had lost. "You know nothing of my relations with Alita One," he grated, "so do not speak of it or it will land you into trouble." I had a feeling "trouble" meant something much more insidious, and from the way his hand tightened on the grip of his rifle, I knew I was right. Prime tensed for a moment, but then he relaxed and lowered his weapon with a small shake of his head. "But...I will not harm you today. You have been disarmed." I heard a tone in his voice that said he had disarmed me of my weapon, but also of my uncontrollable rage. I laughed again, this time more genuinely, but with a softer edge to it. "Hm, big talk, Autobot," I shot back. "But you are right." I knelt before him as conquered before conquerer, a sense of closure covering what was left of the huge wound Megatron had inflicted so long ago, and offered Prime my curving silver blade on outstretched palms. "A token of my undying esteem," I said, as he accepted the blade with hands on either side of mine. "And a promise that this is not yet finished." I left the threat hanging in the air between us as I rose to my feet, my back feeling naked without the presence of my sword. I had given my blade in exchange for my honor, and that would be enough for the time being. "No, it is not finished," Prime murmured, the blade throwing a swath of light across his faceplate. "But it will be....one day." Razorsharp laughed again, and I didn't know whether she was laughing at me or not. "One day, yes. Fare thee well, Optimus Prime," she said, then turned and slipped back into the shadows as if she had never been. I gazed down at the shining length of wickedly sharp metal across my palms, and I noticed there was writing on the blade. The Sound of Silence, the words read in English. In days of old, it was customary to engrave a motto on a blade, but this one inparticular send chills down my central neural pathway. I looked into the shadows to see if I could find her, but Razorsharp had disappeared like the wraith she was. "Yes," I murmured, putting the sabre into subspace for safekeeping on the journey back to Iacon. "Until then."
I ducked again, whirling away from her in our macabre dance. "You must do better than that." Pulling the trigger once, twice, three times, I made her do her own terrified tango. "So far you have not lived up to your reputation," I teased, remembering her prideful boasts in vorns past of being a self-styled "Autobot killer." "Any other "Autobot killer" would have terminated me long ago."
She growled like a caged animal. "If I hadn't tripped, your throat would be slit by now." She flicked her gaze to the blade I knew lay on the ground next to her. So close, yet so far away, her edgy glance seemed to say, but I ignored it.
*THE END*