A/N Honestly, there are far to few fics about Cyborg. He needs some love, too. Unfortunately, not very good at romance, so…it won't be romantic. At all. More like a very bitter dying robot man. Merry Christmas.
"A
falling star
Least I fall alone.
I can't explain what you can't
explain.
You're finding things that you didn't know
I look at
you with such disdain"
-"It Ends Tonight", The All-American Rejects
A city in shambles. A city not strong enough to handle the aftermath of war. A city that needs no name, nor landmark, nor introduction. The only thing requiring introduction in this story I tell you is Cyborg, a man made of dying machinery.
The city fell apart around him, in showers of fiery red and orange, flicks of embers landing on his rusted outer shell, sizzling like bacon on a pan. His arm monitor beeped frantically, even as the battery became emptier and emptier, pointlessly warning against ensuing danger, danger that played before him like a slow moving, horribly realistic movie.
A part of him ached for his team. Not that they were his team anymore. He was too much of an inconvenience, apparently. Too much empty baggage for a bunch of scrawny teenage crime fighters to lug around with them. Made too much noise. Didn't make enough noise.
Whatever.
A building collapsed like a card house, almost burying him in a mountain of soot and metal shards. A women screamed. Or maybe that was just in his head.
'Evacuation Duty' they had called it. Stay, make sure everyone is out safely. We'll meet you in Gotham. Stay.
Stay.
The city had been in ruins. Whoever was left was most likely dead. They had been the last to leave. They were going to Gotham, with Batman. To fight. To defend.
They didn't mention to him that they took his only mode of transportation.
Go team.
It was his T-Car. The one he slaved over, took pride in, cared for like he would a child. And they took it. They left him here, in this city I describe to you, though I can assure you it is far worse then any dictionary language can illustrate.
The remnants of a city Christmas tree still glowed, the only real color for miles. Almost like one last reassurance for the abandoned, the dying. Something no one had stayed to do themselves.
Maybe Starfire would mourn for him. Even Beast Boy, he might expect. Not Robin or Raven, though. To serious. Too mopey. They never did seem to like him.
They left him to die, dear reader. No matter how you say it, no matter what they, or anyone else, told themselves, the Teen Titans left Cyborg to die.
It was the night before Christmas, as a story would say it, not a creature was stirring. They were all dead, so yeah.
Oh, and the fucking mouse was dead to, if it means anything.
The battery gave one last fleeting sigh before dying with it's owner. Cyborg almost welcomed it. The fire and the rusty smell of death went away as quickly, and he was almost happy. If it weren't for the lasting memory of his friends laughter that stuck to his mind, it would have been silent.
Merry Christmas.
A/N As you can see, not so fond of Christmas. Sorry : )
It was the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not even a mouse