Nature, nurture, heaven and home
When the ruins of Nyon exploded into a heart stopping orange, Hot Rod knew this would be a sight that could never be unseen. Limply held in his right hand, the remote detonator was a heavy pressure. His spark was as cold as the icy plains he once longed to visit. This was a hollow victory against Zeta Prime.
Seconds after explosions rocketed Nyon, screams of horrendous amounts of terror resumed. The chilling noise reached audio receptors faster than you could say Primus. Hot Rod felt his spark falter in rotation. What had he done? What had he done!
A slow, mourning keen built in his throat as he watched the city he held close to his spark fall to the actions of himself. The cybertronians who were lucky enough to escape alongside him stared in horrified silence. He knew each one by name, their dreams, ambitions…
Scatter, a young mech compared to most of the gathered watched blankly as he saw his home, his life burn right in front of his optics. The young femme he was trying to court was nowhere near him, and Hot Rod's spark clenched painfully as he realised what her fate was. A raging river of regret swirled around his frame as he turned back to oversee the remaining few building of Nyon fall to the unforgiving mercy of the inferno.
The gathering of Nyon-based cybertronians wept as the last piece of their lives crumbled to the ground. They huddled together, providing comfort and caring touches. Hot Rod refused to let himself join them. It was his fault their home fell; he deserved no platitudes, no comfort.
Slowly, each cybertronian turned their backs to their burning city. They formed a group and walked away in unison, heading in the direction of a village that traded regularly with Nyon. Optimus' group slowly collected themselves and prepared to leave as their leader walked up to the young 'insurgent'.
"You did what had to be done," Optimus said, his voice cutting through the air like a warm knife through butter.
Hot Rod couldn't respond instantly, his voice box clogged with tumultuous emotions that battled for dominance. Grief. Regret. Sadness. Rage. Hate. The insurgent clenched his fists tightly. "It shouldn't have happened." A pause. "This never should have happened."
"What are you going to do?" Optimus asked. Sympathy as clear as a praxian crystal could be seen in his optics.
"What can I do?" Hot Rod asked listlessly. "Nyon is gone. Zeta prime is… untouchable. There's nothing I can do."
"Not yet," Optimus countered. "You cannot give up so easily Hot Rod."
The smaller bot swung his head, optics alight with fiery rage. "Don't you get it?" He questioned wildly. "There's nothing left!"
The enforcer gazed at him sadly. "There is always something to fight for."
Hot Rod scoffed and looked away. "You leaving yet?"
Optimus glanced back at his team waiting patiently for him. "I don't want you to be alone like this," He admitted. "Will you come with me? With us?"
"Not now," Hot Rod murmured. "Safe travels Optimus."
"Safe journey Hot Rod," Optimus returned. He walked over to his team with one last soul-searching look. The odd group transformed and drove away, leaving Hot Rod to his thoughts and the lost city.
Hot Rod surveyed the razed city. Once again, he repeated himself, "What have I done?"
Angel, Angel what have I done?
