Chapter 1: A Sea of Death

The storm was blinding him. The same colour was all his vision could pick up as his optics were showered with the particles: Golden-brown. The Sea of Rust. A wasteland.

As he wandered, he could see a hand, reaching out from the grave he so carefully walked upon. A cemetery without tombstones or mourning. He cursed. It was his first time to this hell; he hoped it would be his last. He draped himself in a hooded cloak, protecting his exposed joints from the death. His chassis could handle it. Not his protoform. He would seize up and die a statue. A faded statue, to be precise. They never understood why that happened; when one of them died, the colours of their body would fade into nothing but black and white. It was easy to tell who bit the dust, at least.

He must have stood still for several minutes before carrying on, pondering about their last thoughts; he often wondered what it would be like to meet such a similar fate. He shoved it out of his mind. 'Focus', he scolded mentally. His comms were dead. He was unsurprised. No back-up if there was trouble. Lately, there was lots of trouble.

All because of him.

What he stood in was a product of his bio-chemical warfare campaign. It would have been in his favour, if he killed just Autobots. He remembered his impatience well. Still carried on even after, what? A millennia? Impressive. No wonder his second-in-command hated him. He'd be worse, though. Always the hypocrite.

He found the old array. It was their primary communications outpost. No one had been here in several decades. Perfect. 'Some of it must be here', he thought. It was the ideal place to hide it; communications were usually the first target. Who'd think to look here? He's inside. He could almost hear the screams echo through the walls. He swore he heard a whisper right next to him. The warrior carried on. He kneeled and activated a panel underneath a tile. What was the code? He racked his processor to remember. Leading an army for over a millennia could do that. Ferrotaxis. That was it.

The doors opened, as if an army stood aside to grace his presence. He descended into the abyss. He hoped they never discovered what was in here. He had to get it. He would get it. This was their survival. It was more scarce than one of the original Primes. He activated his headlights. What was there confirmed his fears:

Drained canisters.

He slammed his fist into one. What little drop there was leaked onto the ground. How? How did they get in? How did they know there was some here? How did they even know the password? They couldn't have hacked it, surely. They made it so that the user had to synch up to the panel and it would access the processor. And then forget it. That way it was safe. No one here knew the password either. No blackmailing.

He heard a voice. He jumped and brought is rifle from his back. Scanning, he found the source. They looked at each other, and the memories opened.

"Smokescreen?" The warrior said.

"By Primus, is that you?" Smokescreen inquired. His vocals were faint. He would give out soon. He wouldn't be alone. "I've been guarding this for… a few days now… when they closed it off…"

"It's been longer than that. About… 6 and a half decades. Why did you stay here?"

"Wasn't going to. Just so happened I got locked in here while checking on them… when they attacked. Heard an… explosion? What's with the cloak?"

One word was all he could give him: "Megatron."

His face fell. 'Of course', his dwindling processor thought. "That… bio-chemical stuff?"

The warrior averted his gaze. It was all Smokescreen needed. "What happened to the energon?"

"… I'm sorry. Needed to survive. When that went off, the ceiling fell on me. Started bleeding out… I really let you down, huh?"

The warrior's dark face would have had a soft smile if he could even make one. "The Decepticons never got it. For that, I am grateful. You didn't know we'd come back."

"Actually… I did. I knew about the project. But… I just couldn't go. I'm sorry."

Pain fell on the warrior. But, he understood. "There is no apology needed."

"You shou-… should go."

"I'm not letting you die alone."

"Th-… Thank you… Guess I'm not destined for greatness… huh?"

"Every last one of you have achieved that. Just by standing by my side. I couldn't ask anymore of you."

He sat with him until his time came. He could barely see him now. He took him with him. A proper funeral was in order. Something wasn't right, though. He could see silhouettes in the distance. He never told any of his men to assist. He went on the alert. Placing the body down, his rifle was readied. Their figures were now fully visible to him as the storm died. The symbols were visible. Decepticons.

Their weapons were raised. He shouted an order to them, as if they were his own. "Back away! NOW!" Their legs never stopped. Fury captured his face. "I SAID BACK AWAY!"

"We don't take orders from an Autobot!" one of the brutes said.

An Autobot? He grabbed his cloak and growled "One. Last. Chance." He tore it off. It would just get in the way now. They almost lowered their weapons. They looked to each other. They were about to fight their death.

They were about to fight Optimus Prime.