The day was gorgeous. Perfect and serene, one that might have been a wonderful memory to look back onto had everything not gone to hell.
Unfortunately, that day marked an important turning point in my life. One that I shall never forgot, but one which I shall remember and replay in my head for the rest of my life, however long that life is.
No matter how many times they tell me that there is nothing I could do, I still can't help but carry around the blame in the back of my mind. I try to hide it. I'm their hope, their reason to fight they say. Were it not for my love for them, I would have given up long ago.
But I fight for them. I fight for this planet I grew up on. And I fight for all the fallen on both sides of the battles, because even though I have chosen my side, part of me does lie with the others. I hope for peace between the two sides. I hope to avenge all the lives lost in the battles, for all of those who have died in this war, including myself. I only hope that I don't destory those care about in the process.
I know much of hope and destruction.
But I am getting ahead of myself. Now, back to that not so perfect day.
The sun shown down on the calm and quiet landscape, with birds singing overhead. The only break in the quiet is the steady humming of oncoming car. Funny how the calm always precedes the storm.
Now to most people, the engine noise would be an unwelcome intrusion to this scene, but to me, the sound is like my favorite lullaby. When I was little, being driven around by my father or one of his team was the only way to get me to sleep. Even the loudest of engine roars were favored by my infant self.
To give the situation more clarity, I sat in said car, a deep almost blood red colored Challenger decked out in a high shine chrome finish and featuring a pair of chrome horns on the hood, as it sped through the serene scene. I was not driving, but my friend, one who I had grown to call my brother, controlled the car.
Actually, he was the car.
"So there I am, on the lookout, when out of nowhere these high beams light up my rearview. And then it hits me: I'm illegally parked!" Cliffjumper. I could go on for ages telling you about him. If he were around, he could easily go on for even longer telling you about himself. Most would find his constant chatter unbearable, but I lived for his stories. Any of the team's stories really. I just loved to listen, to learn. I know, that's not exactly the 'normal' behavior for the average teenager, but as you have probably surmised, I'm not exactly normal.
"Another parking ticket?" Arcee. Cliffjumper's partner. Another member of my dad's team. I should explain said team a bit more in detail, but that will come soon enough. Anyway, Arcee is one of the few people who can not only put up with Cliffjumper, but actually enjoy his company. If you met her, you might be surprised at first by the pair given her sarcastic and sometimes easily frustrated nature, but if you knew them like I do, you would understand. They balance each other. And from what I have heard about their action in the field, they balance each other well.
"Better," Cliff responded almost excitedly. "The boot." They were currently speaking to each other over their communicators, seeing as how both were patrolling in completely different areas.
"Big metal tire clamp, impossible to remove." Whereas Cliffjumper was a car, Arcee's motor form was much smaller: a dark blue rice rocket with the occasional pale pink accents. The pink however is the closest to girly as Arcee gets though. Though I wasn't with her, I can picture her driving some deserted and dusty road with her holoform which she affectionately named Sadie.
"Bingo! So the local police dude does their thing, and I let them get all the way down the block. That's when I kick off my new shiny shoe and, bam!"
"New York's finest soil themselves."
"You know me, Arcee. Mess with Cliffjumper…."
"…And you get the horns. Not sure how that complies with Autobot rule number 1: keep a low profile."
"What can I say? Patrolling for energon out here in dullsville gets lonesome. Almost makes me miss the Decepticons."
"Like Jasper, Nevada's a party? We're alone wherever we travel on this rock, Cliff. Besides, at least you have Everon with you. Though she has been awfully quiet. Don't tell me she is sleeping again."
"I heard that." Up until this point, I had been content with listening to their banter while I remained curled up in Cliff's passenger seat. As they bantered, I had been zoning in and out of their conversation while I intently added the final details to the latest addition to my sketchbook. I'm actually quite surprised by how clear this memory is.
"Leave the struggling artist be. She's been working on the piece for a good few hours. I mean, with the attention she's giving it rather than me, I hope it's a portrait of yours truly." I remain silent and dart my eyes back to the sketch pad before, pretending to erase some mistake on the corner of the page that I hadn't even drew on. "Wait a minute: it is of me, isn't it? Score!"
"Oh boy. You do realize that his head didn't need anymore inflating?"
I sigh. "It's not very good. I've been so focused with school and finishing my bike not to mention keeping up with my studies with Ratchet that I have become extremely rusty in my sketching skills. My visual recall sketches need some serious fine tuning."
"Ev," Cliff says in an almost serious voice, "You say that about any work you do, whether it's for school, Ratchet, or your personal artwork, and no matter what it always turns out amazing."
Arcee cut in. "Between your natural skill and near photographic memory, everything you do is amazing,"
I don't really say anything for a moment. I just stare out the window. When I respond, the words are a little slow and measured. "No ones perfect. Especially me. I've been putting extra effort into everything lately, especially my studies with Ratchet. I want to help the team as much as possible. The artwork is just a way to relax and remember why I study so hard in the first place. Not only because I enjoy the medical and scientific work Ratchet does, but because I want to make a difference on the team. I just…"
My words taper off, and I can hear Cliff begin to respond, but he stops all of a sudden. His dashboard screen begin to beep, and his display a signal of some kind near his position. "I'm getting a signal."
"Need backup?" Arcee asks with a hint of excitement in her tone.
"Do I ever need backup? Besides, I have all the backup I need right here." I remember how my face felt like it was almost splitting from the grin I gave as I threw my papers and pencils into my messenger bag styled purse on the floor and raked my long, dark brown hair and it's unnaturally, but in reality completely natural, red highlights back into a ponytail. The shade of red matches that of Cliffjumper's paintjob. They sort of just started to grow in around the age of twelve. No one knows why, but I like them. I believe they suit me.
When it comes to a fashion sense, I don't really have one. My sense of style varies by the day from rocker chick to hippie to the occasional mix somewhere in between. The only constant in my style is that I like to preen. That is, style my hair, apply my heavily shadowed and smoky eye colors, and where stand-outish lip stick colors. But no matter what I wear, I always sport an ever so precious pair of dog tags around my neck, which I never let out of my sight.
Today I went casual, seeing as how I spent most of it cooped up riding in Cliff, but even with my outfit consisting of a formfitting Evanescence t-shirt and sweatpants, my makeup still consisted of a silver smoky eye-shadow blend with an exaggerated black liquid liner, mascara, and a light coating of purple lipstick which all together complements my high cheekbones and ivory colored skin. Some of the others, especially Ratchet, have mentioned how they feel I do not need the extensive preening, but I blame an old friend whom you shall meet later for the habits.
Arcee spoke up with a serious and pointed note to Cliffjumper. "Be careful, especially with her. Prime will have your head if something were to happen to her."
"Noted. And trust me, I will be as protective as always with her. She will be safe."
I give a sharp snort and respond with a bit of a clipped tone to the pair. "'She' can still hear you two. And I am perfectly capable of handling myself."
Cliff chuckles as Arcee responds. "Of course you are. Just be safe. Both of you."
"Don't worry Arcee. Everything will be fine." Cliff says. Oh, how I wish that had been true.
We swerve off road, and Cliff skids to a stop next to a deep chasm. In it was a large collection of shards which I had grown familiar with over my lifetime. "We just found a whole lot of energon," Cliff happily reports over the comm link. Just as he finishes his statement, a dark shadow forms overhead.
All I could think to say was, "Scrap."
"Decepticons," Cliff sneers as he shifts from his car form. No longer, a car, he is now much larger, resembling a robot from a sci-fi movie, but I knew him to be much more. He was a Cybertronian, like the rest of our team and our enemies, only our team was on the side deemed the Autobots while our enemies were aptly named Decepticons. I knew from experience exactly how deceptive they can be.
From my position on his hand, I can barely hear Cliff as he speaks to me, with his eyes locked on the massive Decepticon warship overhead. "Run."
"What?" I ask, panic gripping my form as the situation finally kicks in.
He looks at me and practically thrusts me to the ground as he yells "Run!" I know nothing else to do but to obey and rush towards the rocks piled off to the side of the edge of the chasm. Just as I reach them, I can hear the blast of a large canon fire, followed by the sound of rocks clattering and smashing about and metal skidding down along with the rocks. I turn to see my friend, my brother fall, but I am too paralyzed to do anything. Not that I could have done much. I just wish I had done something. The next events have been forever seared into my memory.
Vehicon troopers, the designation of the generic, run-of-the-mill Decepticon soldiers, rain down from the warship as Cliff stands from the blast. "Arcee," he states over the comm link, "About that backup." Without me riding with Cliff, I have no way of hearing the response, so I watch helpless, only being able to pray that the others make it in time.
The troopers had him greatly outnumbered, being at least twenty to his lone one. I don't even attempt to count myself because I knew that I was only hindrance should I make my presence known. "Fair warning boys," Cliffjumper stated to the on looking troopers, "I'll put a few dings in ya." Then he sprung into action.
Transforming into his car mode, he drives right up the rock wall and into the air, just before shifting back and landing right into the middle of the Decepticon troops. Cliff fought valiantly, throwing the Cons in various directions and fighting as skillfully as I would expect him to, but I knew that skill would not be enough in the long run.
Where are the others? Cliff needs help now! I knew the answer. We were all currently scattered, searching for energon deposits. But feeling so helpless and just watching the ensuing fight made the minutes seem to drag on.
Soon, Cliff was down. His horn flew off to the side as he crashed right back down into the hole. He managed to catch his footing, and pronounced to the ensuing enemy, "You want the horns? You got 'em." He then shifted his hands into his blasters and began to jump and dive from the enemies fire as he shot right back at them. Unfortunately, energon is an extremely volatile substance, and with a stray shot from the enemy, the supply currently behind Cliffjumper blew sky high.
I hid from the blast behind the rocks, and peaked my head out just in time to see a pair of troopers dragging Cliff from the explosion. "No," I say, shock taking over any cognitive thought I had. "No, this can't happen. This can't be happening. No…" But it happened. And I just watched as they dragged away my brother. I just watched, numb.
The rest of the team came just as the warship pulled away from view. I could hear the ground bridge opening, but I couldn't bring myself to look as I sat slumped against the rock, face looking at my hands in my lap.
I heard as they landed outside of the portal, and vaguely heard them speaking amongst themselves, something about this being the first Decepticon activity in three years, as they searched the area for me. I was too numb to remember anything said. Eventually, I heard someone speak to me as they reached for me among the rocks, then shout to the others. I finally look up as they nudge me on the shoulder. I look up to see the worried expression of Bulkhead, which only grew more concerned when he took in my shaking form and tearstained face.
"C'mere, kid, easy there," he coaxed. Bulkhead was massive. Though slightly shorter than our leader, he is pure metal muscle, and even though is not the brightest Bot, the army green giant with his all-terrain jeep mode is most certainly one of the sweetest. He scoops me up and turns to the others, only to be descended upon by Ratchet.
"Thank Primus. Are you okay? Any dizziness, pain…"
"I'm fine." My answer is short and without emotion, but given the situation, I guess it was understandable.
Ratchet looks at me for a moment as I remain seated in a slumped form in Bulk's hand and sighs. Ratchet is the team's medic and resident scientist. He is the oldest on the team, with no real weapons made for battle, and a vehicle mode of a red and white ambulance. Though he is often described as gruff and grouchy, he never really means any harm by it. Everyone knows that he favors me compared to the others, mostly because my interest in his scientific endeavors and my training under him as an apprentice medic. Though I am only human in form, he takes my training seriously. After a quick scan of my vitals, he turns to our scout who had been bleeping questions to the medic all during his examination of me.
Our scout, Bumblebee, as opposed to Ratchet is most certainly the youngest on the team. His yellow and black paintjob reflects his name, and his chosen car is a Camaro, one with all the bells and whistles. Though only a Scout, he has proven himself many a time to be a valuable asset to the team. The only difference in him from the others is his way he communicates. His voice box had been damaged in battle back on Cybertron, so now his form of communication is through a system of bleeps. I'm the only human I know of that can understand him.
My gaze then shifts to the significantly smaller form approaching from behind Bumblebee. As I watch Arcee approach, my heart drops into my stomach, and I am at a loss for words. She stands there clutching the only remaining piece of Cliffjumper: his horn which had been broken off during battle. As her gaze shifts to me, I notice how lost and confused her optics seemed as she clutched the horn tighter to her chassis. As I struggle for words and fresh tears flow from my eyes, I manage to choke out, "I'm sorry."
Then, the final member of the team stops behind Arcee. As he kneels and places a comforting had on her shoulder, I once again take in his massive size as compared to the rest of the team. Taller than Bulkhead, he is also at least twice Arcee's height. His red and blue paint job reminds me of his vehicle form, the semi-truck which I had practically spent my entire childhood in. He is our team leader, the Autobot leader, Optimus Prime. And as I look him in the eye and see his concern and worry as he watches my disheveled form shake and sob in Bulkhead's hand, I apologize again. This time, to him. "I am so sorry, Daddy."
The sun seemed almost unearthly beautiful that day. The day we said our goodbyes to Cliffjumper. The team stood in front of my father, with me hanging farther back than the rest. As my father spoke, one could not help but notice the wisdom he seemed to carry with his words.
"We must not allow our loss of Cliffjumper to impair our judgment. As of today, only we five Autobots remain on this Earth. We owe it to ourselves, to the memory of Cybertron, to any Autobots in any galaxy seeking safe harbor, to human kind…" and at this point, Arcee began to step forward from the group, still clutching Cliffjumper's horn as she sat it on the ground, "…and we owe it to the memory of our fallen comrade, to survive." After she sits down the horn, Arcee turns to leave in a stoic fashion. "Arcee…"
"If Cliff's gone, standing around and sulking about it isn't going to bring him back. So if any of you mind, I think I will go back to protecting human kind." The bitterness is strong in her last statement. As she continues to walk away, she pauses as she nears me. I'm currently staring intently at Cliff's horn from my position away from the group, as if it might suddenly start glowing or something and turn into our Cliffjumper, not just some remnant of him. "Hey Everon." I cease my staring and look at her, a bit startled. We have yet to talk about the incident, since it was still so fresh in our minds, and though deep down I knew she would never, part of me feared that she might blame me for Cliff's death. "Want to go for a ride?"
Relief floods through me as I quickly bob my head up and down and head towards her as she shifts into her motorcycle form. Soon, we are speeding away through the Nevada desert as the rest of our team watches our retreating forms with worried gazes, fearing how we will cope with our new losses.