The Quiet Loss
The Battle of Autobot City raged on. It was beginning to look hopeless for the Autobots, when suddenly Optimus Prime and the Dinobots arrived in a shuttle at the break of dawn. One lone Autobot gazed up from his battle position atop a small building. He smiled.
"Well, I guess Blaster's message reached them in time..."
He loaded his laser rifle and aimed it the Constructicons, who were shooting effectively at a group of Autobots. The Autobot sniper looked at the group, when a sudden noise made him turn around. The Constructicons were merging.
"Oh slag."
The sniper watched in horror as Red Alert was shot. The young security director lay in a pool of his own fluids, his chest adorning a gaping hole. Tracks ran to him, dropped to one knee and laid a hand on the mech's shoulder. He looked at his face and shook his head... the sniper's Spark sank.
"No way... he's too slagging stubborn to give up now. He can't be dead. No way. He kept us out of harm's way... but... did he really forget to get himself out of this mess?"
He didn't know what made him do what he did next. He yelled out and jumped off the building, aiming his rifle at the back of Devastator's head. He shot multiple times and each single shot earned a grunt from the gestalt. The gigantic being swiveled around to face the new opponent. He stepped forward, about to crunch the Autobot.
"Uh-oh... evasive movements!"
The Autobot transformed and sped away as fast as he could. The giant kept following him, and finally the sniper understood what to do. He drove from between Devastator's legs, towards the city wall. He transformed back to robot mode and jumped. And then...
"Aaaaaaahhhhh!"
He fell down on the ground. He felt his energon levels running low. He barely heard Ultra Magnus, Tracks and Sideswipe's worried words. He wasn't feeling anything, actually. He remembered the face of his assailant... Menasor... he knew something inside him was terribly wrong. He didn't need to hear Perceptor telling him that. He just felt it.
Faces started gliding before his face. He wasn't sure why, but he had guessed a pretty possible solution for him seeing the ones he had loved and even the ones he had hated... he saw the dead people of his city. He stopped for a while to look at the faces of his siblings.
"I'm coming."
Then he saw his friends, the Autobots. He raised his hand as if to touch them, and at the same time his Spark vanished into nothingness, and Bluestreak, the young gunner, was dead.
His spirit was gone
for to sport aloft
In the realms of the good and great.
(-Mark Twain, Ode To Stephen Dowling Bots)