Run Away Home (Transformers [G1-IDW])

Run Away Home

A Transformer One-Shot

For the Themed Fan Fiction Contest

Word Count: 861

~

    The ruined city sat in silence. Once the epicenter of activity for the region, thriving in Cybertronian culture and politics, Praxus now served as a symbol for the devastating power the Decepticons possessed to any who opposed the faction. Gone were the grand towers that had housed various sources of distraction—from scholarly pursuits to artistic endeavors; gone were the radiant crystals of the Helix Gardens; gone were the citizens that had lived in the prosperous city.

    Praxus—a city left devastated from a war that had escalated beyond its original intentions.

    However, it was not the only place that had been left in ruin. Cybertron as a whole had been abandoned at this point; Autobots and Decepticons had left the planet to pursue new venues of energy to keep their soldiers going. Citizens had left in hopes of finding a new way of life and avoid the senseless war the factions continued to fight. There were few left on the planet. Scavengers who searched for spare parts and fuel. Survivors with no means of leaving, or idealists who were beginning to return in hopes of reviving the dead planet.

    One mech in particular was currently shifting through the long forgotten ruins of the utopian city. His scratched and dented hands carelessly brushed aside the shards of crystals that still glittered from the faint light beaming down from the stars above. Like many other scavengers, his focus was not on the beautiful trinkets that had once made others envious. His aim was the poor frame that he had stumbled across.

    It was a crude life. The lone mech would openly admit that as he dug through gaping hole in the sparkless frame, his hands and arms becoming stained with congealed Energon. However, times were hard for a mech out on his own. He had to scavenge for the parts and fuel he needed. He scowled when he felt his elbow joint lock up for a moment, and his hip did the same soon after. Right now, he desperately needed those new parts to keep going, and the mech the frame had once been was not about to use those parts anytime soon.

    Survival of the fittest in perhaps its rawest of forms.

    The mech pulled his hands out of the chest after siphoning all of the Energon he could and moved on to one of the main parts he needed at the moment. He moved the arm of the lifeless frame, dreading the future procedure he would have to perform himself, before he paused. He frowned at the small, spherical object he had found resting beside the arm he had just moved. Out of curiosity, he reached down to pluck the small object from the ground to examine it.

    Not a second later, he was throwing the sphere away with a startled shriek. The mech stared down at the cold frame in a new light—taking in the gaping mouth and the chest that looked like it had been viciously torn open. He scrambled back from the body without taking the parts he had just looted, and suddenly the silence around him sounded louder than ever before.

    His light blue optics scanned every shadow while he shuffled through the debris of the abandoned city, and every small noise had him jumping. In one fatal swoop, the abandoned city had taken on a new air. Before it had only held the stifling reminder of the horrific events that had occurred early in the war. Now it held the terror inspired by myths that sent shivers down any Cybertronian’s spinal struts.

    The clink of armor behind him sent the mech running. He cringed with every step he took when the rusted joint in his hip made itself known, but he continued to hobble as quickly as he could. He was reaching the edge of the city’s limits. A childish hope filled him, allowing him to think that if he made it out of the ruins he would be safe.

    Then he stumbled.

    His worn hands caught him before he fully hit the ground. A chilling cry sent him scrambling on hands and knees with the uncontrollable fear of a mech who knew his time had come to end. Still he fought against the odds, forcing his slow and locking limbs to move. He could make it out alive; he had survived things just as horrid!

    A strange shadow fell over him, and without even thinking, he twisted around to see the large figure hovering over him with hungry optics. He stared up in fear at the scarred and dented helm; in that split second he noted the dirty armor that looked scorched, the corroded framework of door-wings sticking out from its back, and the open space in the predator’s abdomen where a tiny, diminishing spark swirled around another, stronger spark. He felt a sudden pressure in his helm before he began to choke, and the last thing he saw was the creature’s maw opening wide to loom over him.

~

Nickel, Iron, Cobalt, Chrome,

He’ll eat your soul,

Turn your spark to stone.

Nickel, Iron, Cobalt, Chrome,

Run, little robot, run away home.