Prologue
I'm coming for you.
The words rang through Cylinder's audios. They had repeated themselves constantly like a record player caught within the groove of a scratched disc. The voice itself was nothing but a hiss from the deepest depths of the Well of All Sparks – reaching out to grab any unfortunate souls that had given in, consuming them in a pit of shadows, where time is lost and everything else is forgotten.
The demonic voices kept calling to the blue robot. They played over and over again within her processor, urging her to give in, but she paid it no mind.
Cylinder sat quietly in her room, thoughts circulating normally, as they should. Though this place was not much, she could at least call it home. Her room acted as a laboratory – buried deep within the planet of Cybertron, home to Transformers, such as herself. Though now, the planet was home to a certain specific group of Transformers: the Autobots.
Caught in a long, devastating war, the Autobots, who strived for freedom and peace, clashed with the Decepticons, who fought for tyranny. Years ago, the Decepticons had taken over Cybertron, forcing the Autobots to live elsewhere, ideally an allied planet, known as Earth. Only a few, higher-ranking Autobots remained hidden on the surface or on the two moons above, preparing to re-take their home. Eventually, they did, but lost many brave lives in the process – lives that never could keep Cylinder the same. The damage both sides of the war suffered was terrible, physically and emotionally destroying even those whom had never shown much of it before. Both sides had lost a great number of soldiers. But what was worse was that they also lost their leaders. Cylinder remembered it well.
The Autobot stood up from her chair and crossed the floor of the lab to the other side, where on the wall hung an old mirror. She peered into it, taking in the large, blue, aerodynamically built frame. She gazed at the gold trim on her wings, the boot-like feet that held her thrusters and tail wings, two of them indicating a large, golden number "5." Her hands reached behind her head as she placed them on two gray handles and pulled them downwards. Out came two, electric blue swords known as "katanas," which were designed and used by Earth inhabitants. As her main weapons, Cylinder fought fiercely and bravely with them. To others, she was not someone to be messed with, and 'bots especially did not want to be the unfortunate sparks at the end of her blade. She may have been a skilled fighter, but to her, it was nothing special. She slid them back into their sheaths and took a look at herself as a whole once more. As a member of one of the most elite Autobot teams in the Universe, Cylinder had to be built for speed and agility. She was a member of the Aerialbots, a group of flying Autobots. She also served others as a part-time medic when needed – though being a true medic was something one was born with, not taught like she was. One last time, she browsed over herself. Though the body before her was something she expected to see, it felt like a complete stranger, rather, a shadow of her former self.
Once, she used to be a proud, energetic, and optimistic Autobot. Once, she would fly over the world below her, proudly brandishing her golden, number "5" tail wings, racing by her peers. Once, she used to fight proudly, with honor, dignity, and willingness. Once, she could easily be identified as a friend to everyone, even those on the other side of the fight. Now, Cylinder was nothing but a saddened, depressed shell, condemned to live like this the rest of her life. What was hard for her to process, though, was how fast her old self disappeared in one day. She would never forget it.
On Earth, within the walls of Autobot City, the young Autobot Cylinder eagerly waited for a shuttle scheduled to arrive very soon. This vessel was special, carrying not only valuable resources and supplies, but also four of the Aerialbot's friends and comrades – Prowl, Ironhide, Ratchet, and Brawn. She hadn't seen them in months, and could hardly contain her excitement when the massive ship appeared over the horizon. The giddy Autobot bounced up and down in joy until red laser fire shot up from a nearby mountain and pierced the orange armor of the shuttle and an engine, which abruptly erupted in flames, causing the ship to descend. Cylinder frantically activated her long-distance scanners, focusing her optics on the source of the laser fire. Strangely enough, it was another Autobot comrade who was firing. And it was a very stupid comrade, at that.
Hot Rod.
Why on Cybertron was he firing at an allied ship? Cylinder found the answer soon enough. Decepticons – the Autobots' archenemies – stormed out of the falling ship as it plummeted into the ground; a large gaping hole in its side, all engines now smoking.
As much as Cylinder wanted to run for the vessel and help her friends, the impulsive Autobot lurched for the nearest 'Con, swords lashing out of their sheaths as she passed one by. She hit a blue Aerial Decepticon, otherwise known as a "Seeker," named Thundercracker, as soon as he landed. It felt odd to do that, considering she had been somewhat friendly with her air-bound brother, despite his opposing faction. But when they attacked her city, her home, her place of creation, it meant an act of war. Cylinder's sword grazed the tip of the F-15 Eagle's wing as the smaller, quicker F/A – 18 Hornet blazed by. Both blue jets turned and faced each other, charging as soon as they felt ready. The Decepticon fired his lasers as the "Blue Angels" number five jet swung her katanas at him, barely missing. She drew up a face shield and slashed again, narrowly missing the Seeker's head. While her skill with swords was great, her aim was not.
Thundercracker spun around, landing a metal foot in Cylinder's side, cracking some of the metal plates there and knocking her back. The Autobot retaliated with a fist that slammed through the glass of his cockpit, which was a terrible place to have it, since it was the only thing between the outside world and very valuable insides, like his Spark, the very life force of all Transformers.
Finishing the fight, Cylinder dug deeper into his center and wrapped her fingers around as many wires as she could possibly grab and yanked. Hundreds of severed wires, followed by bright pink Energon (the Cybertronian equivalent to blood), spilled out of the wound. She activated her thrusters located on her feet and rocketed into the air, yet the Seeker did not follow. He lay there, incapacitated and unable to move. Cylinder took advantage of the wounded Decepticon and pulled out a blaster of her own. She hated using it, and much preferred her swords, but nevertheless, pulled it out anyway. With a carefully guided and hopeful aim, she fired at Thundercracker's open cockpit and exposed wires. A large explosion rippled across the ground and severely cracked his armor. He uttered a desperate cry of pain, and then fell silent.
With the Seeker out of the way, Cylinder turned back towards the city and ran.
The Battle of Autobot City, at least, that was what it had come to be called, went on for hours. After her fight with Thundercracker, Cylinder served and aided others with the medical support she could offer. But it was hard for her this time. Though medics were not supposed to show emotion when the dead were uncovered, she could not help but break down when two dead Autobots were dragged into a safe zone.
Wheeljack – the former Autobot inventor – and Windcharger – the fastest ground-based Autobot – were dragged in with other destroyed machinery. Their deaths hit Cylinder hard, but deep in her spark, she knew she had to keep going.
Less than an hour later, another shuttle flew over, this time flooding with Autobots – including their leader himself – Optimus Prime. Cylinder remembered how he had been there when she was first Sparked. She always thought of him as a father – teaching her how to be an effective leader and how to care for others, putting their lives before her own. She looked over to see the great Prime exit the now grounded shuttle and charge for the Decepticons, followed by Autobots Hound, Sunstreaker, and the subgroup known as the "Dinobots," modeled after earth dinosaurs and built for brute strength. As they broke away from him, Optimus attacked his adversary, Megatron – the leader of the Decepticons. The two clashed ferociously, each exchanging vicious blows at each other.
The Autobots on the sidelines watched in awe as Optimus Prime fought Megatron almost effortlessly. Then, something bright red and orange caught Cylinder's optics. Hot Rod. The brash, younger Autobot chased after the fight, hoping to help his leader defeat Megatron and earn respect from others. Despite the wiser demands of older 'Bots not to interfere, he ignored them and continued on his path towards the fight.
Cylinder's optics quickly locked onto him as she activated a power that, for some odd reason, very few (or maybe only she) possessed. No one knew why, and only a select few actually knew about it, including Hot Rod. She could read minds. She had no idea how, or why, but she could. With this power, she could also directly lock with any machinery, control it, and know about something instantly just by looking at it. She could also talk to the robot without ever moving her mouth. This part of her ability was just like using a radio, but instead, the conversation could be more private. Radios could be traced any time a robot pleased, but with this, she could say anything she wanted to another robot without being detected. It made her invisible to radar, which neither she, nor any other scientist who came into contact with her, could fully understand. She focused back on Hot Rod, and spoke clearly over his own processor: Don't . . . you . . . dare.
He slid to a stop and turned to her, but just as quickly turned away.
The rest happened so fast. Hot Rod interfered with the fight, only helping Megatron down Optimus Prime with gunshot wounds. The Prime, using every last bit of his strength, threw his weight against Megatron, knocking him off an overhang, far above the ground, and severely damaging him in the process. As soon as that happened, the Decepticon retreated, carrying their dead and wounded with them. Optimus, who fought bravely and saved the city, died hours later, and passed Autobot leadership over to the city commander, known as Ultra Magnus. News then hit that Megatron and many of his soldiers (including Thundercracker), had survived, and were rebuilt by an unknown, universal force. Starscream, the Decepticon Air Commander and Megatron's second in command, was crowned leader of the faction – for a full twenty seconds. Megatron, now called "Galvatron" killed Starscream in a fit of rage, fury, and flat-out insanity. The Autobots, now hopelessly desperate to gain Cybertron back, found that a planet-eating monster, one that was considered to be a myth, began to attack the Transformer's home, dismembering the very body of Primus (the one who gave life to all Transformers – Autobots and Decepticons alike), piece by piece. Cylinder traveled to the doomed planet and fought on the ground, while the remainder of Autobot forces fought within the giant behemoth, now identified as Unicron the Destroyer. The battle raged on, and soon, from within, a faint blue light had begun to glow. Cylinder recognized it in an instant.
The Autobot Matrix of Leadership – the very essence of Primus. When a Cybertronian died, their life force, or Spark, went to the Well of All Sparks, located deep inside the Matrix.
Unicron frantically jerked his head around as his pain receptors flashed through his head and his body began to feel less and less immobile, stopping only when his gazed rested on Cylinder's. There was something about the blue Autobot that was interesting to him, something that he was not quite sure exactly what she was, that made her different from all of the rest. And from that moment on, she began to hear the horrible voices.
I'm coming for you.
Ever since that day, Cylinder would never bee the same. She would never smile unless she was making fun of another 'bot. She would never be perfectly obedient and follow orders like before. She never used her weapons and incredible speed like she used to, and instead relied more and more on her mind abilities. She became rude, depressed, and all-around disrespectful. But the ultimate question was: Did the voices have anything to do with it? Or was it really because she had lost so much in so little time? Her thoughts slowly filed themselves away in her large processor as she gradually became aware of the present once more, facing the same, almost foreign metal body before her again.
This, after all of that, was what was left.
This . . . is who she is.