A fire was burning inside Chicago. Not one of the many scattered across the ruined city that had become a war zone between two factions of one of the most powerful races in the galaxy, but one of victory and hope. This flame was inside the spark of every Autobot warrior who still stood tall inside that forsaken metropolis. They had finally done it:
The Decepticons were no more.
Defeated. Done. Run out of town.
Then why did Optimus Prime still feel like he had lost in the end?
The leader of the Autobots had been sitting on the LaSalle Street Bridge, the same spot where he had taken the lives of his nemesis Megatron and his former teacher Sentinel Prime a few hours ago, contemplating the effects of his actions. The bodies of his enemies had been scrapped and taken away by the cleanup crew a while ago; Optimus himself helped load their bodies into the carriers, mostly so Sentinel's remains would not be so desecrated. Even though his predecessor Prime had betrayed his cause and killed his dear friend Ironhide, he was still an Autobot, albeit one that had lost his way and had been corrupted by war.
Megatron, however, was a different story.
That tyrant whom Optimus had fought for centuries was once his friend like Sentinel was, but his past actions were not as forgivable as Sentinels. Hundreds of Autobots had died at his hands, including Jazz, the first casualty of the war on Earth. This was not to mention the many human soldiers and pedestrians caught in the cross fire of the Decepticon assaults he had led in Mission City, Egypt, D.C, and right here in Chicago. But now, the thought of another army ravaging Earth felt like a figment of Prime's imagination. Without Megatron, Starscream, Shockwave or any of the other higher ranking Decepticons around to rally troops, it seemed like the opposing faction was ready to crumble into extinction.
And it was this that worried Prime so gravely.
"Besides, who would you be without me, Prime?"
His last words, Prime thought. Even though it was said during an outrageous attempt of a truce, Megatron's final words to him rang deep. Deep down, the Autobot leader never truly believed the war would end, thus never thought of what would happen once it did. At points he believed he would die before it concluded (which he had, but fate had other plans for him). But here he was, post war and victorious. With no one left to fight, and his home world of Cybertron sucked into a reversed Space Bridge, what would Optimus… No, the Autobots, do now? Was staying on Earth with the humans their only option? Where they…
"Prime? Are you alright?"
Optimus' thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. "Oh, Rachet. Yes, I am fine… What's the status on the street patrol?"
"It's going well," the medic folded his arms and looked across the bridge towards the Chicago skyline, "While recovering Que's body, Dino and Sideswipe found a few Decepticon soldiers hiding in the back alleys, and took them down when they resisted surrender. The Wreckers investigated the downed warship in the river and recovered those two little ones. Wheelie and Brains, I think their names were. Hard to believe they crashed that ship all by themselves."
"And Sam?"
"Bumblebee escorted him and his female partner out of the city along with the other evacuated citizens unharmed."
"Thank you for the report, Rachet." Prime fell silent for a moment. "…Back when this war began, did you ever think this day would come?"
"Well, Prime, I always did try to have an optimistic outlook on the future. On the contrary, this day does feel quite surreal to all of us. It is perfectly normal to question this event, Optimus."
"Your diagnostic is always helpful, old friend. Let us regroup with the others and depart from this city."
As Prime transformed into his Peterbilt truck mode and rolled across the bridge and out of the city with Rachet following close behind, he could feel his wheels holding back. It was hard to move; all these years of battle had finally put enough rust on him.
But Prime trudged on. They were only the scars of war; they would not bring him down just yet.
Three weeks pass, and the world over has quickly learned of alien presence on their planet. Footage of Cybertronian wreckage in Chicago is shown on news stations in every country, as is a message directly from Optimus Prime addressing the shell-shocked masses. The latter broadcast does not go over very well with the people of Earth. Riots spread like wildfire, with protestors preaching to their governments to boot the Autobots off Earth. The nations of the world were slowly falling into turmoil.
"Surveys taken have shown that 98% of voters are against Autobot presence on Earth," a news reporter speaks through a small television on a naval ship in the North Atlantic, "And over half of these voters were once in support of Autobot presence before the destruction of Chicago…"
The television flips off as an angry William Lennox hits the power button and throws the remote. He puts his head in his hands and sighs. "Dammit… We're not the bad guys, people…"
After a few moments the NEST officer gets up and walks out of his cabin onto the deck of the large ship, where an Autobot funeral is taking place. Four large trailers each containing the remains of a fallen soldier are lain out in a line near the edge of the ship, ready for burial at sea. Their Autobot brothers in arms stand behind them with heads bowed in respect, as are the Nest soldiers standing in front.
"Let us begin," Optimus says solemnly. With a nod, Dino steped up towards the first trailer and pushed it overboard.
"Ciao, Que," the red Ferrari saluted, "Ya crazy inventions will always be a part of my arsenal, amico."
Ratchet and Bumblebee were the next to approach the coffins, each grabbing hold of one. The pair of trailers contained the remains of Skids and Mudflap, who had been killed in alt mode during Sentinel's rampage through the NEST Base in D.C. Their deaths had gone almost unnoticed until Prime stumbled upon the wreckage of their vehicle modes.
"Darling, only the good die young…" Bumblebee 'sang' through the radio as he and Ratchet slid the Twins overboard.
Only one coffin remained. Sideswipe rolled forward only to be suddenly stopped by Optimus.
"Allow me, Sideswipe," Prime said, looking at the trailer containing the remains of one of his oldest friends, the hardened weapon specialist named Ironhide.
"I understand, Prime…" the Corvette nodded, falling back in line. Even though he had been the last Autobot to fight alongside Ironhide, the bruised old bot was Prime's closest comrade out of all of them, often falling back on the old 'bot for advice at times.
Optimus stood silent over the coffin, reminiscing of his friend within. If only he could have been there to stop Sentinel… If only…
The trailer fell into the water with an immense splash, the after spray falling over the deck like rain. The Autobots and humans shielded the descending liquid with their arms, all except for Optimus. Letting the water fall over him, the great leader closed his optics and sighed.
"We did it, old friend: We won."
The water would rust, Prime knew. But he felt the need to have these scars in memory of his comrades who had fought and died for the cause. He would carry their burden until the day would come that someone helps him lift it, be it Autobot, or be it human.
For on that day, a new war would begin.
And a new war meant new rust.