Chapter 1: Heaven Within the War
Prologue
Years Ago...
When Thunderbolt was only a youngling, her caretakers would tell her stories.
Not just the legends of the Thirteen, or the bedtime stories from ancient days that put her to sleep. No, it was the kind that made you want to know everything, which made younglings like dear Thunderbolt cry jovially " Tell me more!". Modern stories, about Lord Prime and his Protectorate Megatron. Of worlds light-years away, filled with creatures near unimaginable. There were also stories of sadness, stories of grandeur. And more importantly, stories of forgiveness.
"-and the Representatives of the planets made an alliance with Sentinel Prime," Avalon seemed to recite, his dull voice never rising or falling an octave. "Since then, us Cybertronians have been in high standing with the leaders of Glaeshora and Hyrdozax…" Without warning, a shrill alarm erupted throughout the facility. This also triggered a collective set of groans and high-pitched shrieks of protest.
"Aww, not again," one commented "It's like every time we get to the good part it's suddenly time to recharge!"
However for Thunderbolt, recharge was looked forward to at the end of each orn. The Youth Sectors in Praxus got quite boring with the usual routine. Online, go to classes, refuel, and recreation. Nothing new came along very often, and Thunderbolt is a femme of short attention span. She was alone in her mind, she could dream. Dream of whatever she pleased, do whatever she pleased. Pretend to be a hero of an entire galaxy, or the last of a civilization. No one could say a slagging thing about-
"Thunderbolt, to your berth, I will not ask you again," Avalon instructed, servos crossed over a broad chassis, and breaking her out of that pleasant reverie.
"Fine, you're no fun BLAHVALON!" she remarked. His only response was to pick her up and plop her down quite roughly onto the recharge berth. With all the other younglings already in a deep recharge, Thunderbolt was at a loss. Distant memories of a protective warmth and two pairs of adoring, crystalline eyes staring down at her. Of deep baritone murmurs, something like a lullaby? Not much she can recall from sparkling hood. Only that she wasn't wanted, and her creators were cruel to leave behind such positive memory files of themselves. Eventually, hot coolant dripped down her faceplates in large quantities.
This was how most recharge cycles began for her in the Youth Sectors. The few times when she was allowed out of the facilities gates and into the massive expanse of Praxus (usually only with Avalon, who had nothing fun on his schedule, ever. period) she saw sparklings and younglings alike with their creators. These were the times Thunderbolt let herself feel envy, of how they got to have creators love them, and she didn't.
Recharge came faster than usual.
'This dream feels...different than usual' Thunderbolt mused.
The expanse of her mind was not filled with vibrant color or a cityscape of sorts. It was. Endless. Seemingly no boundaries and nothing to ground her. She was listlessly floating to nowhere. But out of nothing, always comes something. Without warning, colors of all shades burst out of an epicenter. It was overwhelming!
Thunderbolt cried out in fear. This wasn't how dreamed worked! As if on command, the vibrancy of the place died down to some degree. The pandemonium stopped all too suddenly. And in its place… a soft pulsing ball of light zoomed towards Thunderbolt, stopping just short of her spark casing.
'What… is this?' she questioned, faceplate scrunching up in confusion
'The end, little one,' The Light sounded almost… remorseful? 'The end of everything.'
'Okay? What does that have to do with me?'
'I have attempted to reach you before, but to no avail. There is something awful coming child, and only you can stop it.' The Light started to move closer to her chassis.
'Me?' she gawked at the light. Ha! As if she, the infamous troublemaker, was world-saving material.
'It will take time for my Protector to understand what you will be to him, but I believe this is the only way, dear one. I hope we may meet sometime again youngling.'
A strange feeling engulfed the youngling. A feeling (feelings?) of sadness, and it only increased tenfold with her fear.
I am sorry…
She woke up to the sound of explosions.
A/N: Hello! I lost my muse for Transformers several years ago, but decided to pick up on writing again. My writing style is mostly self-taught, so I apologize if the way its structured causes some confusion. I own nothing but my OC Thunderbolt and the story idea. Transformers is the property of Hasbro and will not nor ever me mine!