Everything was amazing. Rafael Esquivel was in a technological wonderland. Helping Ratchet with Synth-En, calibrating sensors, and starting to learn Cybertronian. For Raf, nothing could beat working with the bots. He got to learn about a civilization unknown to his world and make new friends while he was at it. Bumblebee was his guardian, but also his friend. Everything was perfect because Rafael finally had something to work for without getting mercilessly picked on and teased by older kids. Then, things started to change.
It was slow at first, barely even noticeable. But Raf noticed. Yes, Raf always noticed. When you're laughed at day after day, you pick up things. You learn to watch closely and carefully, cataloguing even the most minute of changes. Raf noticed, however subtle the change was, and yet, he said nothing. Oh how he wished he had spoken up. When others started to notice everything going downhill, it was like a switch was flicked. It went from drifting leisurely down on a nice bike ride to screaming as everything was suddenly thrown off of a cliff and plummeted hundreds of feet. How Raf wished he would've spoke up.
Then he wouldn't be this way. He wouldn't be living alone in a dark apartment while the bots left for Cybertron. He wouldn't have crushed his computer until it was an unrecognizable hunk of jagged metal. He wouldn't have cut all ties to his science fiction club, but he did. And now he's paying the consequences. The day Raf walked out on the bots was the day he lost their faith. Now, as he walks along the sidewalk, he flinches every time a jet flies over, or a dark colored car gets too close. His colleagues' questions are only kept at bay by the excuse of a dark past on the battlefield. It's true, just not the type of battlefield they think.
PTSD. Post traumatic stress disorder. That's what they call it. The flinching from a well oiled engine. The nightmares filled with shrieks of metal and faceless visors. It has been sixteen years since Raf has ridden in a car. Sixteen years since he has seen Bumblebee. Sixteen years since Miko's voice was heard last. Sixteen years. Fowler is gone, held deep within the corpse of a corrupted government, never to be seen again. June disappeared. Jack is splattered somewhere on the walls of the long dead Nemesis. Miko is lost to the stars.
She never thought it would end this way. Bulk and Jackie would continue fighting and she would continue sneaking through the groundbridge. Jack and Raf would continue to stop her and Ratchet would continue to berate her. Now, she lay covered in air-tight plastic and stared up into stars that weren't her own. Corpses of rusted metal lay around her, the result of a century long civil war. There were none of her species on this planet other than her, nor will there ever be. The twin moons glisten as she listens the sound of blaster fire raging in the background.
There was a scar across her lip that matched the mark over Jackie's lower denta. The back of her right calf was burned a shiny pink, a permanent reminder of why humans can't withstand blaster fire. Her left wrist has been broken four times, each of which she was fighting. She doesn't care anymore. Her right hand was lost long ago to the blade of Megatron's sword. In it's place, a Cybertronian prosthetic sat heavily, gleaming and so wrong. The color of her hair has faded, left a permanent dull brown in the memory of what once was. Never again would she be able to be a kid, or even take off the damn suit.
She was caught up in the same century long civil war that was blamed for the empty shells of the bots around her. Her back was tattooed in blue ink, the color of the species lifeblood. In the language of a dying breed, it read the names of her fallen comrades. "Wheeljack, Ratchet, Orion, Magnus." Wheeljack had perished by the hand of one whom he once considered a brother. A fitting death, for all he'd lost, one last grenade, a final explosion of glory. Go out with a bang or nothing at all. Ratchet was unexpected. A genetic disease passed down from his creators claimed him. CCG, they called it, chronic circuit glitch. He died choking on his own energon. Without a medic, bots die daily. For all he'd fought, Optimus deserved a peaceful death, one wish he finally got. Peaceful doesn't mean loyal. Stabbed in the back by one of his own soldiers. His last wish was to be remembered as Orion Pax. Magnus. The strict commanding officer nobody liked. Miko felt terrible. He probably lived his life thinking no one person cared. He ended it knowing at least one did. He covered Miko as she ran. She heard his last cry. Bulkhead was lost to them. Overcome by the effects of dark energon, caused the deaths of both Jackie and Optimus.
Miko hadn't set foot on Earth in sixteen years. Armed with an energon blaster, she fought day in and day out. For Orion. For Magnus. For Ratchet. For Bulk. For Jackie . Her honorary wrecker status shined bright as she dove headfirst into the battlefield. The path of spilled energon and broken soldiers was home now and there was no going back. In the back of her mind, she knew she'd never live long enough for peace and yet she fought anyway. Although when she looked into the mirror at night, all she saw was a broken girl who made the mistake of running away from home.
Jack is gone. Splattered against the walls of the Nemesis. A ship that lay dead on an abandoned moon in the far reaches of space. His body was never recovered and his death never confirmed. The Autobots still search for him and yet they will never find him. His bones lie broken and await a rescue that will never come. Beside them lay a long dead hunk of metal. Wings jutted out from the back that one might think resembled a fighter jet. Ruins written in dried brown organic blood litter the floor, hopeless as their last descendant has perished. The Vosian ruins will be forever left unread.
Jack has no thoughts. He is dead. His killer's corpse was beginning to rust as it sat beside his bones. Sixteen years since Jack last saw Arcee. Sixteen years since he saw his mother's face. Sixteen years since he last opened his eyes. Sixteen years since Jackson Darby ceased to exist.
And so time goes on. The fate of the human allies, like shattered glass. There aren't enough pieces to put it back together. Raf continues to stay on Earth. He works as a janitor, a job that requires no thought. He refuses to even pick up a computer. Although he still resides on Earth, alive and healthy, he isn't truly living anymore. Miko is on Cybertron, making an effort to finally end a war that is doomed to kill everything and everyone. Miko still fights but her mind is broken and consumed by the burden of death. She will expire on the battlefield. Jack lays silent, unable to think, see, move. His bones will eventually turn to dust and all evidence of him will be but a forgotten memory.
A war fought by an unknown civilization silently rages on in the background. Their world is on the edge of extinction, the gaping maw of death beginning to bear down. Still they fight, but their minds are lost. Forgotten the lives of humans that used to be friends, family. Extinguished. This species has caused so much death, and all in vain. For even as their bodies continue to fight, their minds wither and eventually fade and it's too late. They are already dead.