Sand is everywhere. It is always everywhere, in this location.
The gritty texture of the substance under him annoys his sensors, adding fuel to the pain that curses him eternally, and it is hard to get a decent footing, his weight too much for the substance, so he must move faster then he would like. The movement and stress hurts him, and the star beats on him, heating his systems to uncomfortable heights, but he knows pain and pain knows him, and so he ignores it. There is nothing to remove by the pain via taking it out with destruction, so he must ignore it.
He moves on.
But where can he move? Devastator does not know. Two Earth weeks ago, His Master, the Fallen, joined the dead, and with the last of the Prime's gone, Devastator has no Master to serve, and so he had fled. All his pain, this pain that stays with him, will be for nothing, and it scares him. With the Fallen's Apprentice gone as well, who can he serve? No-one. He is lost and alone within Egypt, and the pain hurts him so much.
Being without a Master scares him.
But he remembers the order of the Fallen's Apprentice: "BEGIN OUR ASSAULT!"
The Fallen wanted this planet to be destroyed. Devastator takes comfort in the memory. He now knows he has a command to obey, and he will carry it out; All beings on this planet, plant and animal and micro-organism, will burn in the fires he shall make. All with be crushed under him. All with be destroyed. He will bring ruin to this planet until every last thing is dead. Only then, will his task be complete, and then, he will have nothing left but the eternal pain, pain, pain.
So, he moves on.
But he is unaware of the brown jet that flies over him. Or rather, he does not notice it until a missile from the vehicle strikes his side.
The pain flares at him, as it always does, and he turns to snarl as the jet shifts into a robotic form, a Blue-eyes, the Apprentice's hated enemy. The jet is clearly taunting him, hovering in the air, before darting off away. Devastator snarls in anger and pursues the prey; The Fallen wanted these ones dead, and he will kill them.
The jet stops every now and then, ensuring the behemoth is still following him, as he flits off to an abandoned town of some sorts. Devastator hates the annoyance. The pain aches, and he must kill this fool to calm his hurt. Devastator notes the prey is slowing down, perhaps low on power, and so, he will destroy it.
The jet lands in a wide street, flanked by houses and starts firing at Devastator with a machine gun. The brute roars in anger and barrels forward, determined to destroy the nuisance as flickers of hurt dart around him. He lurches forward, so close to rip and tear-
A trap. The ground under his right arm, formed by the massive front-loader, gives way under it, and his arm is suddenly lodged in a immensely deep pit. Devastator's body lurches to the ground from the sudden loss of support, ending up on his knees as his head crashed to the floor. The pain flares once more and he roars in agony.
Suddenly, more Blue-eyes and fleshy things appear, using some kind of weird magnetic grapplers, flinging them over his limbs and torso, pinning him against the ground. His arm is trapped and unable to push him up to throw off the restraining ropes, and his other arm and legs become entangled and trapped. Like a pinned animal, Devastator futilely cranes his head forward to snap massive jaws at the jet, but he is out of range and his neck hurts.
And with that, the great Devastator slumps to the floor, defeated, groaning in the endless pain that plagued him from his creation (except when he in his vehicle modes; Then, the pain is gone, but so is his power)
The fleshy things surround him, holding weapons and speaking in their odd flesh language. One soldier pokes his chin, but Devastator ignores it. He wants to kill the jet fool, not a fleshy. The fleshy will die afterwards. The jet speaks to three more fleshies, two male, one pale, one dark and a female who gives out odd readings. Part fleshy, yet part... dare he imagine so, part Prime. Odd.
Realising he cannot reach the jet fool, Devastator takes what he can get and jerks his head round, his jaws opening and heading for the fleshy that poked him, who is too slow to dodge. There is a scream as his jaws close in, hurting his audio sensors, before he crushes the fleshy in his mouth with ease, feeling the oddly soothing squish of fluid on him. The others panic and back away, aiming their weapons at him, before a booming voice demands silence, causing the fleshies to stop moving.
A massive red Blue-eyes, though not as big as the jet fool, heads towards him, flanked by a silver one and a black one with large weapons. Devastator growls threateningly as a bright yellow one also appears, looking shocked at the splotch of red by Devastator's mouth.
Their chatter hurts his sensors, and the combiner snaps his jaws as the yellow one approaches, but he misses, and the yellow one sticks a sharp spike into his lower jaw-structure. The combiner roars in pain, before suddenly going silent as an odd numbness hits his cranial structure. It feels... nice. Though the rest of him hurts, his head feels soft, as if it could defy gravity, and it is nice.
Devastator forgets all the hurt and grumbles softly. He likes the sharp numb yellow Blue-eyes. Perhaps he will numb the rest of him?
The red one approaches now, regarding him intently, before gazing at the splotch of red that was a fleshy once. Strange, how the Blue-eyes like these weak things. Never mind. The red one seems to come to a decision, and speaks in the flesh language, his hand unsheathing a sharp blade. The little female fleshy with the odd Prime reading speaks, echoed by the silver one, but the big red one ignores them, and the black one looks eager.
They are going to kill him, but the combiner is numb and feels like his head can float and he does care. Even the Fallen cannot stir him now. But then, he detects something. He detects a signature he knows well and truly; The signature he was born to obey-
It is the spark of a Prime! The red Blue-eye is a Prime!
At last, a Prime has come to give him a purpose, and Devastator forces his body to contact the Prime energy. He will obey the Primes. That is his purpose.
Master, I serve you.
The red Prime freezes as Devastator sends the message through the unique bond the combiner has with each and every Prime that has ever existed, from father to son. He will serve the Primes; That is his purpose. But this Prime seems confused, shocked. How odd; Surely the Prime must know that he lives to serve him? Devastator obeys the Primes.
You are Prime. I serve Prime.
Perhaps that will help him, the combiner muses. Perhaps he has a memory glitch regarding him, and so he will help the lost Prime remember. The red Prime is still, and the other beings ask him questions in the fleshy language, the little femme with the odd reading most especially. But his new Master ignores them, sheathing his blade, before stepping over to Devastator, whom is hopeful that his message has worked. The Prime speaks to him, and Devastator feels the thrill of having a purpose once more.
"You are a Decepticon. You served the Fallen."
Devastator is confused as his Master speaks to him negatively, as though not believing him, his numb head contrasting with the endless agony of his body. Decepticon was the term the Fallen's Apprentice generally used. But Devastator served the Primes and only them, not whatever faction they happened to be in.
You are a Prime. I serve Primes. Fallen is dead. You are alive. I serve Primes. You are a Prime. I serve you.
The Blue-eyes seems to at last understand, optics widening in surprise, before nodding: "Do you wish to leave the Decepticons and join us?"
I serve Prime.
At last, the Prime seems satisfied, and nods in acceptance. Devastator is please, and he once again links to him, wanting to learn about his new Master and his new life. This Master is part of the Autobots, their leader, hated by the Fallen's Apprentice, and allies with the fleshy ones. His name is Optimus Prime, and his vehicle form is a large transport that the fleshies referred to as a truck. He is brave and compassionate and loyal, and is close to the femme, whom is apparently his daughter. Devastator finds that hard to believe, but he accepts it.
The Prime decides everything.
Most importantly, Devastator provides his new Master with a mental link, that only he and the Prime can share. This will allow the Prime to command him at any time, at any place, with complete ease. They are linked, and Devastator will serve properly again.
With that, his new Master speaks to the rest in the fleshy language. They seem surprised, and the black Blue-eyes and the pale male argue. How dare they disobey the words of the Prime. Devastator wants to punish them, but he feels the first words of his new mental link:
NO. They are allies, now. I will handle them. Their will is their own. Destruction and hurting are not the answer.
Devastator promptly retracts any thoughts of punishment. The Prime's word is law. Even if that law is against the deceased Fallen's, Devastator serves the living Prime.
Soon, soon, they all agree to what the red Autobot commands. With that, the ropes are taken off him, and he can move freely again. With the help of the jet, Devastator lifts his trapped arm from the pit and stands proud and tall, shaking the sand off him, flinching in pain as he does. The pain of a botched fusion always hurts him.
However, his new Master notices this, and orders: Devastator; Transform and follow Ratchet. He will take you to our base in Diego Garcia. If he wishes to interact with your mechanics, let him. He will not harm you. I will see you at Diego Garcia.
Ratchet is the yellow one who delivered the sharp numbness. Devastator likes him; He is a good servant of the Prime, compassionate and medical. Devastator obeys the Prime, and forces his body apart. His torso detaches from the waist, his left hand ejecting off and transforming into a small bulldozer while his arms go into a high-truss crane and front loader, the torso into a massive Terex Excavator. His waist becomes a flatbed truck, his right leg a green dump truck, and his right leg splits into a smaller dump truck and a second bulldozer. His head becomes a cement mixer, and he feels the pain of fusion disappear. It is nice. The Prime leads the other Autobots and the fleshies away, the little femme jumping into the hands of the silver one. Odd, the trust he can feel.
You will meet them later, the Prime assures him. He is kind, and Devastator likes him already.
The yellow one, Ratchet, drives off, expecting him to follow, and he does, sending his components after the Autobot, the torso Excavator last in the line. Devastator wishes the Prime would come, but he must command the Autobots and the fleshies. The Prime's word is law.
And now, the Prime's word is his new life.