Remains of Cybertron
-Recovered from a data crystal found in the remains of Iacon. The author is lost to history.
Among the broken metal corpses, it never takes long for the two heavyweights to wade into the fight and find each other. Like soul mates, they are bound to each other like the tightest of sparks in eternal love, hate and damnation.
Jabs, kicks, sword thrusts, blaster bolts and throws that shake the greatest of spires, they pound each other, seeking a submission in the other that will never come-a submission that can never come.
The titans struggle, the melee dies as all the other, smaller, less important rivalries return to a simmer. They combatants watch, simply to avoid becoming a part of the struggle. No good could come of intervening through blind loyalty to their side. Their own petty grievances with their own, opposite number on the other side pales in comparison.
Maybe this time, they hope, it will be settled once and for all.
Red body paint is scraped onto the gunmetal gray. Energon and oil mingle. Their pushing and pulling binds them together-binds us together.
Finally, through dumb luck in this universe, the energon runs out from one of them and dies, leaving the other to stand over the body in grim satisfaction that they are truly the better bot.
At least, until hatred revives the dead again in the next turn of the page of our history.
Optimus, Megatron
Primus, Unicron
Light, Dark
Death.
All of Cybertron is left as twisted remains beneath their feuding hate.
Without the Decepticon, who needs Autobots?
Without the Autobots, who needs Depticons?
With both, will Cyberton ever want Cybertronians again?
Will we have Cybertron in the end?
What does this symbol on my chest even mean?
What we were arguing about again?
Smoke clears and the loyalists drag off their wounded, their dead.
I look to the stars and wonder where will be the next battlefield.
Where will this plague that is little better than an infestation of scraplets take us next?