Hi!
I was feeling all angsty so I wrote this.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Transformers.
Gone. Everyone gone. Everything gone. Ironhide slowly made his way through the field of offline mechs and femmes, searching for one femme in particular. Ironhide used his powerful scanners to detect any living being. The reading drew a blank. Ironhide sighed and continued to wade through the dead bodies. Autobots and Decepticons alike were scattered across the ground, all of them with families they had planned to return to, friends they had promised to meet with, enemies they had promised to kill. A bit of blue armor stood out in a rather large heap of bodies, and Ironhide's processor reeled. He ran to the pile, and threw aside one body after another until he reached a slender, but solidly built, blue femme. Ironhide's thinking stopped and his body froze. Ironhide carefully lifted the femme into his arms, and collapsed onto his knees. The colorless optics stared blankly at Ironhide, and Ironhide stared back. Ironhide analyzed her body, and found that it was broken beyond repair. Dread, sadness, guilt, and livid anger filled Ironhide's body to the brim. The Decepticons. The Decepticons had done this to her, done this to him. Ironhide let out a furious roar and pounded the ground with one fist, leaving a large dent. A sob threatened to come out of his vocalizer, but Ironhide pushed it back. He had a reputation to keep as the fearless, merciless, violent Autobots' weapons specialist who lived for war and to fight. But blind rage washed over Ironhide, and he laid Chromia back on the ground. The Decepticons had done this. The Decepticons would pay.