So while I was reading the 3rd and 4th volume editions of the famed Transformers IDW comic series 'More Than Meets The Eye', I began to take major notice and fascination in all of its main characters, along with some side characters. Throughout the series, I began to grow attached to these characters and took great interest in their actions and dialogue.
My only problem? I wished there was even more of them to read.
My solution? I decided to take matters into my own hands... ...or servos. Whichever you prefer.
So I began typing away, and this came as a result. Out of the entire comic series so far, there are two chracters that have grown to become my absolute favorites: Chromedome and Rewind. It's no coincidence that they also seem to have the most complex relationship out of all of our protagonists. Naturally, I wanted to write about them. Then, I realized that I wanted to know more about them than I already did. Then I figured "Why not give my own take on it?"
And this is what became of it.
So feel free to follow this take and interpret it anyway you please.
Takes place during: 'More Than Meets The Eye' Issue #1 (If you haven't read this or the series for that matter, TURN BACK. Otherwise, you may get confused. Just a mere suggestion)
Chapter 1
A Lost Light
"They say that twelve million years ago, on this very spot, the first Cybertronian realized he could change shape. Six million years ago, right here, Nova Prime told the world that he built an Ark.And four million years ago to the day, Optimus Prime stood where I now stand and turned down Megatron's first and only invitation to surrender.
"What happens here tomorrow will rank alongside those moments. Tomorrow, this patch of land will become a launch pad. Tomorrow, I will board the Lost Light and set off in search of our ancestors. They were known as the Knights of Cybertron.
"They're real. I'm going to find them. And I want all of you to come with me.
"Bumblebee says it's your duty to stay here, on a planet you no longer recognize, among people who resent you for the sacrifices you've made in their name. I say: you've done your duty.
"The war is over. That day you never thought would come? That's today.
"You've earned the right to see the universe without a gun in your hand..."
When the address was finished, all of the fellow Cybertronian spectators almost immediately dispersed from the overcrowded hall, pouring out onto the streets of Iacon. Amidst the light atmosphere outside the structure, the silence that occupied the air just a few moments ago was quickly overlapped by the sounds of the masses communicating with one another… all the talk having to deal with the planned voyage.
Some of the Cybertronians were rather timid and resentful about the circumstance. A topic like this was not to be taken lightly, of course. However, some of them still believed that the legend of the Knights of Cybertron was nothing more than a superficial hoax or feeble myth, no matter how many details there were. Most citizens, on the other servo, were either very intrigued about the tale or just flat out in awe of the once-in-a-lifecycle opportunity that had been presented to them.
One matter was for sure: not a single being who heard that speech wasn't concerned about it.
The same could possibly be said for the civilians who will no doubt be told about it.
The afternoon pedestrian hordes slowly spread out from their tight, congested states into wider and thinner numbers. Soon, the streets looked like its high-solar, pedestrian routine almost every cycle. The only difference was that instead of the pedestrians discussing mundane topics such as work shifts, energon breaks, and current events like in the olden cycles, the main foci among the dialogues bordered on the periphery of present-day politics (concerning who will run the Senate and what direction it will go in) and life-changing outings (whether to leave newly-restored Cybertron for either an incredible experience or a well-meaning fiasco). It wasn't all necessarily good talk; nonetheless, it beat the monotonous banter in the pre-war cycles.
Among the crowds, the mech was making his way down the streets, his russet and auburn hues gleaming from the light of the planet's brightest star. He got swept into the crowded fluxes was trying to break his way free of them. He didn't make much success of it: most of the ramblers didn't give a scrap about anyone who crossed in their path and just forced anything out that did. About a dozen of them did the exact thing to the mech.
No matter how hard the mech tried to stay clear of everybody's business, they always find some way to bump straight into them.
'Primus,' the mech thought to himself. 'Would it kill anyone to be the slightest bit attentive?'
It shouldn't have surprised him in the least bit. He dealt with this kind of behavior every cycle: before war, during war, and now, he could add post-war to the list. In most of those cases, however, he wasn't the only one alone. He had some very fortunate help in the past.
Unfortunately, that particular help wasn't by his side at the moment.
The mech tried to scan his surroundings in order to locate his associate. The problem was all of the Cybertronians around him made it virtually impossible to see more a mere few feet. He tried looking down, but only got the same results.
'Where are you?' The mech thought.
His accomplice couldn't have gone far, even if he might've been swept under the torrent of street traffic as well. He was also much harder to spot than other mechs, so it was legitimately credible.
Deciding to resist the force of the humdrum wanderers jostling past him, the mech turned straight around and hustled his way into the opposite direction, right back where he came from. Along the way, he undoubtedly bumped into another mech, around his size. "Excuse me," he told him, and continued on at a faster pace. A dozen steps further, he bumped into more pedestrians, none of them the right mech. All the responses he gave were "Excuse me," "Pardon me," and "Sorry."
'Perfect… two minutes past and I've already inadvertently jettisoned my partner.'
And right he was. It seemed as if he was wiped off the face of the planet. It created some rather uneasy emotions for the mech. At least emotions that were much strong than usual.
Fear. Anxiety. Worry.
He became even more tense, and started pushing pedestrians aside in a panicked attempt to search faster and closer. Optics kept scanning around the settings in the process, from the ground to the buildings right next to him, and of course the civilians surrounding and trouncing him. His fear grew more, his anxiety increased tenfold, and he became as worried as ever.
The crowds showed absolutely no signs of either slowing down or decreasing in numbers. It might as well be in the Pit had the solar star not been out and shining.
Servos began to shake. Clearly, no progress was being made, which caused more fear to spike into internal workings. Even his spark chamber was thumping wildly.
It kept on beating as he kept on searching in the masses.
Beating… And searching…
And beating… Searching…
Beating…
Searching…
…
Oh Primus…
…
Something struck his body lightly. It didn't hurt. He could possibly be imagining things now.
No… …It was definitely something physical.
Like a… …like a servo.
His guess was answered when that feeling struck on his own servo…
…and clenched it firmly.
It felt familiar. It felt very… soothing.
He recognized that feeling anywhere.
Just then, before he could comprehend the identity, the mech was dragged aside, almost immediately from the crowd. He hit the side of the building due to him not be aware and being led astray. He used his free servo to rub his helm at the part where it was hit.
As he slowly slid his digits across his temple, he looked down and recognized who had saved his spark: a minibot, who sported a black color scheme with a red faceplate, a white helm, and a blue visor.
The dead giveaway was the small, cylinder-shaped camera mounted over his left audio receptor.
"I thought you might've gone off without me!" The minibot exclaimed.
The dazed mech was right all along.
The larger of the two mechs removed his servo from his forehelm and tilted his facemask up, indicating a sort of smile. "I figured you were following right behind me, Rewind. I didn't expect the crowds to be so hell-bent on getting to other places."
The archivist crossed his arms and gave his partner a vain glare. "I told you we should've waited for all the auditorium traffic to clear before we left, Chromedome."
Chromedome just stared at him trying to come up with the right words to retort with. He was slightly lost memory of the last few minutes. Usually, Rewind seldom use his full designation unless it was either to address something important or disastrous, so hearing it caught him slightly off-guard. One thing was for sure: he wasn't wrong about the traffic.
All the larger mech could do was sigh. Then he spoke again. "Well, you make hasty choices: you get hasty results. And sadly, I still make mine."
"Are you sure you weren't in a hurry to get back home yourself?" Rewind asked.
Chromedome looked down at the minibot quizzically. "What makes you think that?"
Rewind pointed at the entrance that they just came from. Apparently, the mnemosurgeon hadn't gone far. "Right as we were exiting the building, you seemed a bit detached, as if something was wrong. Then you just sorta took off with the rest of the crowd."
Right in an instant, Chromedome suddenly recalled his actions.
After the big speech that the great Rodimus Prime had given to his audience, he started reflecting on all the possibilities, advantages, shortcomings, and outcomes of that mission. Just thinking about it alone was surreal: to actually go on a quest and try to uncover the great Knights of Cybertron? For it to become accomplished was certainly an overwhelming idea! However, there was still the off-chance that the Knights were just a fable after all. If this so-called Lost Light could never track them down. The crew would indisputably be travel for eons and eons to come… possibly never coming back home.
Chromedome had finally decided against going because of this particular reason. He was never fond of being trapped in a tedious position for so long. However, after an equally quick analysis, that also seemed like a problem. The mnemosurgeon had been functioning at his vocation for several millennia, in which he desperately had to try and break free from in the first place. Going on the voyage would prove to be a great outcome on his part.
It seemed like a 'lesser of two evils' choice. The main problem was trying to indicate which of the two was the lesser.
It must have been during that point in which Chromedome began to wander off, away from his counterpart, who was, at the moment, giving him a curious, anxious expression. Finally, the smaller mech responded.
"You still alright?"
Chromedome kept his gaze upon Rewind, fidgeting around in the process. "I'm not sure."
"Perhaps you have a minor case of depression?"
The surgeon let out a single, slightly-nervous chuckle. "I highly doubt that's the case."
"Well then, what is it then, Chromedome?" The archivist asked. "Do we have to take you to Ratchet again?"
The red-brown mech rapidly held up his servo. "Oh, no no! It's nothing like that." He didn't feel like holding in his emotions anymore, especially with the one mech he trusted most. He sighed and continued, "It's just a…a–a bad feeling, that's all…"
"Would you like to discuss it?"
"I, uh… would rather not, at the moment." He felt even more distressed as usual; he didn't want to aggravate his systems by conversing while walking in the middle of a heavy logjam.
"Oh…" was the only word that came out of Rewind's vocal chords. He began to tilt his helm towards the ground. In another short moment, his helm tilted back up.
"Do you still want to head back home?"
Chromedome's visor flickered at the last word. He hadn't heard it in such a long, long time.
"I'd very much like that." He gestured a servo past his partner. "I take it you still know the way back, Rewind?"
The archivist took one of Chromedome's servos with one of his own, and used the other one to point to the camera bracket mounted on the side of this helm. "Of course I do."
"Good," the mnemosurgeon responded. "…Because my memories are still a bit hazy."
The journey home was hectic to say the least. All of the interstates, streets, and sometimes even alleyways were completely occupied by countless forms of life. Of course, Iacon was the only remotely functional city on the planet; everything else had been caught in one gigantic sea of rust. Most of the remains could very well be salvaged and brought back to Iacon for the time being, but it was beyond dangerous to venture into such territories without proper supervision. For now, everybody had to cope with living in this diminutive but still fruitful region.
A short span of time had already past since the revival of Cybertron, which meant that security protocols were still being verbalized over what to do with the remaining Decepticons here on the planet. While they had been released from their constricted pen in the barrel of Kimia, they were technically set on probation. It may not be the politically correct term to speak of, but given their limited actions due to their I/D chips, it was the term that fit best.
So far, since their freedom in the previous solar cycle, no chaos has erupted. It should be considered a good thing. However, knowing the Decepticons in the past, this solely raised concerns among the current representatives of the metropolis.
When it came to both Chromedome and Rewind, they were among the people who had worries. However, they were both worried each for different reasons. Chromedome because of his own suspicions, and Rewind because of his classified archival footage of Decepticon raids. It was amidst some of the many likenesses between the two mechs.
Their home (temporary home, for the most part) was a relatively long way from the oration's showground , approximately a cycle or so. Neither bot complained about it, however, as it did give them someplace to go at the end of the solar period. Since Iacon was the only known, functioning section of Cybertron, there was no doubt that it would fill up with Cybertronian dwellers within a matter of minutes. Because of this, all residential edifices quickly became occupied, leaving few of them open to other potential arrivals. Fortunately, most of the advents have conspired to begin expansion of the land and construction of more structures, both leisure and residential, for the public.
Before all that clamor, the voluntary boarder regime issued a new tenant's policy, which still runs as of the moment, that required at least two inhabitants living in a single residential unit. This edict was enforced to ensure apt equivalency amongst the Cybertronians. Sometimes, they could house three and even four per unit, depending on the unit's size. Of course, many citizens were displeased of the VBR's provisional policy, but until either Iacon expanded its capacity or more hospitable municipalities across the planet were found, they would have no choice but to comply to the living situation.
Chromedome and Rewind, after a prolonged trip by foot, finally arrived at their edifice. It was insignificant but adequate in both size and appearance. It was an older building, possibly dating back to before the Great War. The minibot could probably describe its history, though he knew that his accomplice wouldn't be too keen on hearing it right now. So instead, they walked into the front doors and entered the building's anteroom in silence.
A few other Cybertronians were also in the anteroom, giving rather unpleasant looks to the larger of the two mechs. They didn't seem to take kindly to the mnemosurgeon. However superfluous it seemed, their disdain was logical. Chromedome was a friend to nearly every member on the board that established the unit rule, and anyone associated with them was considered a rival through the optics of any and all non-affiliated indigenous lifeforms. Or NAILS, as Autobot tactician Prowl had put it.
Soon after, they reached their quarters. Their room was located in the 1st section of the 5th floor, two floors below the top level, facing the north direction of the planet. When Chromedome entered in the passcode for the room's security lock, the door panels slid open to reveal the sudden bright sheen of one of the many moons orbiting Cybertron. During this season of time, the moon happened onto this particular side of the structure, forming an artifice of splendor with the white rays of light through the giant glass pane taking up the entire section of the wall. To say that the appearance is beautiful was an understatement.
Chromedome was rather surprised by it. The reluctant bot raised his arms up in a shielding manner at the light, becoming taken aback by it's seemingly blinding properties. Rewind didn't even flinch: he had seen more than enough stunning imagery to shock him in even the slightest bit. Still, the minibot noticed his friend's reaction and quickly rejoined.
"Is the light bothering you that much, Chromedome?! Rewind said, dashing over to one of the corners of the glass and searching for the sliding visor panel. "Do you want me to set the blinds over the window?"
Chromedome slowly let his guard down and looked straight ahead at the bright moon. His visor slowly opened up the longer he looked at it.
"…No," he finally answered. "It's fine, Rewind. It… it is… …it's actually quite a beautiful view from up here."
The minibot immediately drew his servo away from the visor switch. When Chromedome's optics adjusted, he saw the usual emptiness of the rectangular room, save for the two berths on the left side of the room. Even after almost an entire month since they took the quarters, it was still nearly a barren room, just like about every other room in the edifice. In spite of everything that happened during eons of war, they still managed to come home empty handed.
Since returning home was delayed by the conflicts of war, it was self-explanatory.
The mnemosurgeon strode over to the berth furthest away from window and shifted onto it while observing his partner. Rewind kept his optics facing the moon, which Chromedome had noticed just now that it was closer than it usually was. It felt very… odd. At least by his own standards. Maybe it was just his optics deceiving him.
The larger mech stared at the smaller mech, whose helm was still facing in the direction of the moon as if it were instead the sight of Nova Prime up close and personal. He never understood the archivist's always-goggling mindset with moments like this. Sure, history markers such as the Ark-1 account, any of the Prime inductions, and the possibly thousands- or maybe millions- of minutes of war footage: it all made perfect sense.
But… this was a moon. And not just that, but one that's been so commonplace on the planet's orbit that any mech could count on his fingers the number of people they knew that didn't know of its existence, not out of sheer gullibility.
His understanding of the archivist became more perplexed when he realized that his partner's mounted camera's light was shining red.
"You're kidding, right?" Chromedome disparaged. But his partner said nothing and kept on recording.
The larger mech continued. "Are there any motives as to why you need to record an irrelevant lunar planetary form for your future endeavors?"
Still nothing.
…
"Rewind?"
…
…
About a full minute later, the red light shut off, and Rewind turned to his roommate as if nothing had happened. Even the topic he chose to open with made it seem that way."
"Are you still thinking about the expedition?"
Chromedome turned to his partner. It was strange that he picked this precise moment to spring the question, instead of right when they got home. Perhaps Rewind, since he had know him for the longest time and observing his own actions, reactions, and physiognomies, was counting right down to the astrosecond when the mnemosurgeon would be willing to answer his previous inquiry.
Clever glitch.
But, unsurprisingly, Chromedome didn't dismiss it this time, giving his own surefire answer at last. "…I don't know yet."
Rewind's visor shifted into a confused gaze of sorts: an expression the other mech had seen a substantial amount of times over the past millennia or so. And much like the preceding ones, this look was the same. He said, "You had all the time on the planet on the way back here from the address, and you still can't make up your mind?"
"It's hard, okay!?" Chromedome snapped.
The archivist held his gaze at the latter, which was now shifted from confused to concerned. He wanted desperately to say something to comfort his partner, but nothing of worth came to mind. Soon, he strode over to his own berth on the side furthest from Chromedome and leaned over it with hands propped up on the slab.
Chromedome looked back at the minibot, whose gaze was still focused on himself. Both waited for a response from the other. Both thoroughly observing each other's expressions and estimated their innermost thoughts. Both held dead silence for longer than they expected.
Finally, the larger of the mechs gave in.
"You want to go, do you?"
Rewind kept still.
…
"You do want to go!" Chromedome predicted.
Rewind threw his hands up in the air out of anticipation. "Why not!?" He exclaimed.
"Whatever do you mean, Rewind?" The former enquired, crossing his arms.
The minibot put his hands back to his sides after his impulsive gesture. "Look, the war's over- at least for now," he began. "We've both been on the sidelines of warfare for what, 4 millions years now? After Vector Sigma, for the first time since then, we've finally ceased our conflict with the Decepticons and brought the war to a complete standstill. They're under our control now, Chromedome!… At least the most dangerous ones are!"
The mnemosurgeon sighed. "I seriously doubt that, Rewind. We been far too long in conflict to have such an underwhelming climax bring it to a proper conclusion. Not too mention- yes we have a lot of the Cons rounded, especially the strongest ones." He put his hands on his knees and kept his visor tilted down. "But there are no signs of Megatron around the planet, meaning that he is still alive, fully-functioning, and possibly gathering the rest of his units to strike us back. Then what, Rewind? We fall back into a loop of the exact same events that led to Cybertron's downfall in the first place!"
"Okay, okay!" The minibot interjected. "You've made your point, Domey."
Chromedome ceased his movements and gave a cold stare at his accomplice. "For the record, don't use that nickname with that type of context again." He continued on. "And speaking of points, which one were you trying to make?"
Rewind kept his own gaze on the other, putting his hands back on his berth. "Even though the probabilities of war are still very high, that won't likely to be an outcome for the next few months or so- maybe years. I think this trek will be an exceptional way to escape from it."
"Even if it's only temporary?" Chromedome asked.
"Especially if it's temporary!" Rewind exclaimed. "If a new war ever does break out, then will be better prepared for it. If that happens and we find the Knights of Cybertron, war would finally be able to come to an end!"
"That seems a bit farfetched, doesn't it, Rewind?"
The minibot detected nothing but pure cynicism in the larger mech's tone during that line. "Can't you try and be more expectant about things?"
"Easy for you to say," the surgeon said looking away from Rewind. "You've lived longer than me to adjust your perspective and get used to atrocities."
Chromedome didn't notice Rewind walking around the slab in front of him and taking a seat on it while facing him. Then the minibot spoke again. "I'll go wherever you go and whatever you want to do, which means if you don't want to go with Rodimus and them guys, I will stay here with you. But… just really think about it. Will you, Dom– er, Chromedome."
Said mech kept his head down for a few more moments. When he looked up at his roommate, the first thing he noticed took him by surprise: Rewind's head-mounted camera wasn't on. For once, he wasn't recording a conversation that proved irrelevant… unless he was waiting for a relevant point to start. The mnemosurgeon kept staring at him trying to come up with something to say. About the trip. About the "Cybertronian Knights". About… anything.
Finally, Rewind instead decided to break the silence.
"If you decide to stay… exactly what are you going to do, then?"
Chromedome's face withdrew away from the direction of the other bot, trying to hide his unsure expression. "I… I'm going to pick up where I left off here before the war that ruined Cybertron."
"With what?" The minibot asked. "You've never cared for your old life and want to get away from it."
"That's why I'm starting over by staying here."
"No," Rewind said, only this time more firmly. "It's not. You're only going to be dragged down by the atonements of your past. You're going to let those fears bring you to a state of despair. I've seen you at your worst; I don't want to see you go down that path again, Chromedome"
Said mech let out a slight little laugh, though it felt more bitter than pleasant. "I appreciate your concern, Rewind."
The minbot crossed his arms. "I know what you're going to do. You're gonna go back to Prowl like you did in the past, and you'll turn to him and he'll give you things to do to try and make you forget your past. And Primus forbid that you'll actually believe tha-"
"I'll do it."
Silence took over the room after the mnemosurgeon interrupted the archivist's growing rant. Rewind looked up at his partner, who was getting up from his sitting position on the recharge slab and looking back down at the former.
"What?" Rewind finally asked.
"I'll do it… I'll go on Rodimus' expedition with you."
The minibot was at a loss for words at the larger mech's sudden change of spark. "Y–You will?"
A giant hand fell upon his left shoulder pad, followed with the nod of the mech standing in front of him.
"I just need to do one thing before we go.
There will be much more to become.
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