I didn't just love Jazz. I worshipped him. Hidden in the darkness of the night, I left no inch of his body untouched. I clung tightly onto every sound he made, thriving in them.

He had no idea what he did to me.

But he was an idol I could no longer touch.

"Ah think we should call a break."

"I'm sorry?"

"It's gettin' a lil'... Repetitive." Jazz replied, struggling to find the right word.

"What do you mean?" I could feel my doorwings starting to droop.

"Ah'm sorry, it's not you, it's meh." He replied, standing up. "Ah'll see ya 'round, yeah?"

"... Yes. I'll see you around." How foolish of me. I'd forgotten to factor in his fear of commitment.


It didn't take long for Jazz to latch onto someone else. It was quite depressing, actually. To think that he meant so much to me and yet I was so easily forgotten and replaced.

It was strange laying alone at night. I had become so used to curling up with Jazz that it became difficult to adjust. I hadn't cried since the fall of Praxus, my beautiful home city, but it was at night when I made up for lost time.

Anguish was all I felt, hidden by a mask of calm and collected features with ice blue optics.

Nobody noticed a thing.

Everyone thought I didn't care. Nothing was said to me.

I was fine with that.

It was on the battlefield when I finally got released from my slow descent to insanity.

The decepticons were being particularly tricky this battle. I was hoping that it'd be over soon, as just the sight of Jazz made me feel sick to the core. I was angry with him. I didn't understand what I'd done and he wasn't interested in talking about it, brushing it off with a simple laugh and a "Ya've done nothin', Prowler!"

I saw the snipers lazer as it lined itself up between my optics.

"Prowl!" Bluestreak screamed, abandoning his position and starting to run towards me. I faintly heard the sound of the gun being fired, and I barely felt the bullet pierce my helm.

Well this was a fairly nice way to go out.

Not from depression, old age nor illness. A simple bullet to the head.

A simple death for a simple mech.

I thought I'd heard Jazz scream my name, but that's impossible. Wishful thinking on my part. Just a memory loop.

It would be nice though, to be missed. Even for a little while. I knew I wouldn't be though. I wasn't important. Easily replaced. All I was good at was keeping a straight face and drawing up plans, and any old mech could do that.

I had no friends. I had no family. I had nothing. I was just an old relic.

Nobody misses relics.

I returned to the well before I'd even hit the ground