This idea hit me awhile back; just last night I was slapped in the face with enough inspiration to put it into words.:) Also, I just got overa terrible case of Writer's Block. The story is in Megatron's POV. That's gonna be fun.:p Oh well, you can read it or not. You should since you took the time to click on the link and read this far. Don't forget to comment/review, by the way.
The Final Battle
We had won. Finally. Those Autobot scum watched in terror as I extinguished the remaining light of their leader's Spark. Their optics widened in disbelief as I threw the limp scrap metal of a body aside. The slagging idiots continued to fight, though. The vengeance that burned in their azure optics wouldn't give them power. It wouldn't bring Prime back or heal their mortally wounded second-in-command that Soundwave so easily killed off as he was first to attack.
This is why I should rule over Cybertron. These Autobots were just weaklings that had almost as much confidence as Starscream. Speaking of which, where was that winged pest? I looked up to the skies to see the F-15 trio. The light blue jet, Thundercracker, had smoke rising from one of his twin thrusters, but either ignored or hadn't noticed it. Starscream and Skywarp seemed to be fine, though. I wasn't one to know how Skywarp functioned, but seeing that he didn't have any energon leakage let me guess that he wasn't wounded. Starscream, on the other hand, was as readable as a book. From the ground I could hear his annoyingly high-pitched voice complain. It wasn't a good sign, but it showed that he was being normal.
I'll give him something to complain about when we return to base, I thought. Abusing my second-in-command was just to enjoyable. Hearing his pitiful cries was like having my own symphony that I may listen to when I pleased. Just grab his wing or make a move to would make him start begging for mercy.
As I looked back to my inferiors, who had already began fighting, bodies littered the ground. Most were ones of Autobots, but every once in awhile I witnessed one of my mechs go down. I didn't care for them, falling in battle was a sign of weakness; that, I did not tolerate.
I heard an Autobot battle cry. I looked towards the mech that had screamed it. It was Autobot Prowl; the police car was a close friend to Jazz. I turned my attention to Soundwave, who had killed Jazz. The uncharismatic dark blue mech had been telling commands to his cassettes and didn't see the revenge-consumed Autobot.
I may have not despised Soundwave as much as my other soldiers, but he should have paid attention. I didn't even wince as I saw Prowl beat him to scrap. Ravage, one of his cassettes, had seen this in front of his cat-like optics. The Cybertronian panther hooked his fangs into Prowl, and the two continued in the energon spilling battle.
The last battle, I thought, is not fought for survival of a planet, but out of vengeance. An Autobot ran towards me; this one being their medic, Ratchet. One fire of my gun, one with the aim of the greatest warrior, went strait through his Spark. He was the last of them. As I looked at the battlefield, dead bodies everywhere. I noticed that I was the last one standing. The last Decepticon besides Shockwave, who was still on Cybertron.
Two mechs were left of our race. Shockwave wouldn't live forever and I had to believe the startling truth that neither would I. I had one the last battle, I had claimed victory. I also had claimed the lifeless home planet of mine. I had caused the extinction of my species. What is left to do? I won a battle that I've been fighting for millions of years, and I win nothing.
I looked to the black gun that was connected to my arm. This weapon killed many and was feared. It was a part of me. Raising it and facing it towards myself with the uneasy feeling dwelling inside of me.
One fire. With the aim of the greatest warrior; the aim of a tyrant that ruled over nothing
