It was a desolate wasteland. Where tall and beautiful skyscrapers had stood, their blackened and smoldering ruins now sat, a silent testament to a never-ending and violent war. It had been a beautiful city several breems before, golden and glittering but now . . . burnt out and empty, like the rest of Cybertron.
Mirage looked at the remains of his city, his arms hanging limply at his sides and his rifle at his feet. This was what Optimus wanted them to do? Take up arms and fight only to destroy everything that they held dear? Had they all gone mad?
Mirage stood there for what seemed like an eternity, just staring at the ruins of the city. He felt lost and very much alone at that moment, when someone approached him from behind.
"Mirage?"
He didn't reply, didn't want to reply. Mirage knew who it was and what he was going to say. Ironhide could be very predictable sometimes. He also knew the older Mech could be quite persistent, too.
"Yes, Ironhide?" Mirage tried to keep the exasperation out of his tone. He didn't feel like being cuffed upside the head anymore than what he did listening to Ironhide.
"We have to get moving. Pick up your gun and let's go," the older Mech ordered. "The Decepticons are regrouping and heading back."
"Heading back!" he exclaimed, turning to face the security officer. "H-how come? There's nothing left!"
"We're left, Mirage. That's all that matters to them. Let's get going. We don't have the troops or the firepower to withstand another attack here. Prime's orders."
Of course it would come from Prime and not you, Ironhide, Mirage thought almost bitterly. You . . . you believe in your cause. You enjoy the fight, the thrill of the moment . . . You'd die for what you believe in and not even give it a second thought. You're the perfect soldier.
He picked up his weapon and followed Ironhide. The wounded and dead were being loaded onto hydro lifts and into emergency transport vehicles. All able-bodied Autobots were assisting and moving as quickly as they could, including Ironhide. Soon they were on their way back to Iacon, moving as fast as they could without aggravating the injured. It was slow going but they made it with very little event.
And just in the nick of time, too. Ironhide hadn't been kidding when he said that the enemy would be back. The Decepticons had been hot on their trail since they had left the battlefield. They opened fire just as the last of the wounded had entered the safety of the city. He and Ironhide had barely made it in when the Decepticons began. The guns came out and the battle began once more.
During the battle, Mirage made his way to Optimus Prime. Why, he didn't know. He just felt compelled to do so.
"This is madness!" he wanted to shout at him but a volley of missile fire stopped him short.
The blasts knocked everyone to the ground at one point. As quickly as it had begun, it stopped. Above them floated Megatron, a sneer on his face.
"This is just a taste of what'll happen if you do not surrender, Optimus Prime," he snarled.
"Forget it, Megatron," Prime shouted back. "You'll have to do better than that to try and subdue us!"
Have you lost it? Mirage thought. Why do you even continue to fight! They're the fighters, not us! They'll eradicate us for sure!
"So be it, Optimus Prime. Here's a parting shot from us to you."
Shockwave came into view at that moment and transformed. Megatron followed suit and both Decepticons fired in unison. The explosion that followed was nothing short of devastating. Half of Iacon was no more.
To Mirage, what made it worse was the loss of comrades that day. He didn't have a lot of friends among the Autobots to begin with but those that he did have were gone, their lives extinguished far too soon. The Decepticons had seen to it that half of the Autobot population had been decimated. Even Ironhide's fate seemed to be sealed as he had been the first to fall in the final blast. He now fought for his life in Repair Bay.
I don't even really care for the older Mech, he mused to himself as he stared out his window. Yet, I find myself hoping that he survives. Why is that?
"Maybe because he's wearing on you, like he has most everyone else," a little voice whispered to him. "Maybe the two of you are a little more alike than what you care to admit. Two fallen angels trying to make their way back to grace."
Fallen angel? Ironhide? No way, he told himself. Me perhaps, but Ironhide? No. Not even remotely possible.
"You won't know if you seclude yourself from everyone, now will you?"
Mirage never thought of it that way as he continued to stare out into the black voice that was quickly becoming Cybertron. But he would never forget what he was. An angel, fallen from grace with very little hope for redemption. Like they all were.
El Fin
