Not a creature was stirring…
The Old Cybertronian whimpered, his metallic teeth covered with his own Energon. He grimaced as he shifted his position on the floor and spat Energon from his mouth to the floor, his body wracked with agony. His hat was now a crumpled mess of tree bark and splinters, something that was unique and special to him, his treasure now destroyed from under the foot of a tyrant.
No one would save him this time, no one would get to him. He'd be long dead before anyone found him, if they ever did.
"I'm so sorry." He whispered quietly to himself in defeat, knowing that years upon years of legacy, of legend would all go to waste…all because he wasn't strong enough.
"I've failed, I've failed again." He whimpered before closing his eyes, simply wishing for the gladiator to return and finish him.
"Hey." The voice he heard was but a whisper in the wind, the ancient one didn't make a move or reply.
"HEY." The voice said a little louder, trying to rise the fallen warrior, he shifted slightly as his eyes opened weakly.
"Hello?" he asked.
"Get up old one, now is not the time for this." The voice came from behind him.
The old red, white and black Cybertronian rolled painfully onto his back and looked at the figure before him, a white femme with pink highlights across her body.
"I know you." He said barely able to keep the pain from his voice.
The femme chuckled, a saddened look in her eye at the sight of the one before her.
"And I know you." She paused and knelt down to him, "Come on, let's see if we can't fix this." She said gently before placing a hand on his body, a gentle glow emanating through her touch and around his wounds. They did not heal, but now he felt no pain.
"Elita-1." he gasped. With the pain no longer clouding his mind he was able to recognise the femme before him.
"So you do remember me." Elita-1 smiled at him.
"Wh-what are you doing here? How are you here?" he asked, barely able to believe his optics.
"How should be obvious, but why? I'm here for you, old friend." She smiled at him.
"Is it my time?" he asked.
"No, not yet," She replied and rose to her feet.
"Why aren't you fighting back?" she asked but she already knew the answer.
"I'm weak, I'm a coward. Megatron is right, he'll beat me. He'll get the information he wants and the Autobots will lose and it'll be all my fault."
"You cannot simply give up," Elita-1 told him, determination in her voice, "Of us all it is YOU who hopes till the very last."
"Then all hope is truly lost." He muttered and moved to turn back onto his side, or as best as his restraints would allow.
"NO." Elita-1 said with finality, crouching beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Now is the worst time to lose hope, and I will NOT allow you to lose it."
Before the old one could blink, a bright light enveloped his vision. Upon opening his eyes, he found himself back on Cybertron. To be more specific, he was in Iacon.
"I'm home?" he wondered, before looking for his now non-existent restraints.
"We are merely ghosts of the past."
He turned over and saw Elita-1 standing before him, waiting patiently for him to rise.
"Ghosts?" he asked curiously before standing up. "What are we going here?"
Elita-1 said nothing as she took the larger Cybertronian's hand and pulled him along with her.
He had not seen his home in such a state since before the war. Everything was pristine and shiny…it looked new.
"How far back have we come?" he asked as Elita-1 pulled him around a corner only to be met with a mob of angry Cybertronians.
"What is going on?" the old one wondered.
"Do you not remember? Watch..." She instructed.
The Old Cybertronian watched on, the scene seemed oddly familiar to him, but why?
The mob of Cybertronians yelled angrily at the law enforcement units, holding up signs that read 'DOWN WITH THE CASTE SYSTEM!'
"We want justice!" one of the protestors stepped forward and yelled.
"Back away or you will be fired upon." One of the police units warned, but still they did not listen merely yelling angrily. The same police unit raised his weapon and fired at the protestor.
The area exploded viciously and gasps of horror and shock were heard. The smoke cleared and there stood another Cybertronian, tall and familiar with his now singed arms raised in front of him, having blocked the blast and saved the protestor's life.
"So this is the cowardice of the system." The saviour grumbled and lowered his arms. "THIS IS HOW YOU RESPOND TO PROTEST?!" he yelled angrily. "This merely proves we are seen as an inferior class, how the mighty higher ups would have us in chains before we would become their equal!"
"BACK DOWN OR YOU WILL BE SHOT!" A higher ranked officer yelled.
"…very well! But we will return." The saviour shot back before turning to the others. "Return to your homes, but do not work, because as of now," he turned around and glared at the high ranking officer. "WE ARE ON STRIKE!"
The crowd dispersed, the saviour keeping a careful eye on the police who had yet to withdraw their weapons until everyone was out of sight. The saviour happened to move in Elita-1's and the old one's direction. As the saviour drew closer, the young Cybertronian he had saved rushed up to him.
"Hey, hey wait!" the Cybertronian cried out.
The saviour paused and turned towards the young Cybertronian. "Yes?" he queried.
"I just wanted to thank you for before, I'd be scrap metal right now if it weren't for you."
"There's no need to thank me, in this rebellion we are all brothers and sisters in arms. We must take care of one another. Only then with our combined might will the caste system fall, and equality shall prevail."
The saviour turned away and continued walking.
"Wh-who are you?" the Cybertronian asked.
"I am D-17." The saviour replied without turning away.
The old one and Elita-1 watched on silently as the young Cybertronian turned and rushed away, the old one released a weary sigh and turned to his old friend.
"I remember this now, there was so much hope for the future, so much potential and possibility, the start of the rebellion seemed to bring out the hero in everyone." He recalled.
"Just look what it turned to." He growled.
"True, the rebellions turned into war, but no one ever gave up on that hope, because why else would anyone keep fighting? The Autobots have hope that they will be able to win this war and restore Cybertron just as the rebels had hope that their efforts would be for the best of Cybertron. You have to have hope if you are to achieve anything. You know this better than anyone." Elita-1 told him, hoping her words would spark something in his mind and soul. He just looked away from her.
"…still nothing? Then let's go elsewhere, shall we?" she suggested and once more light filed his vision.
Once he could see again he found himself in yet another location, this one far darker and far colder than Iacon. He gasped quietly as his eyes looked over the details, the dark sky covered with grey clouds, the long snow covered trees, the snow under his booted feet, and he bet his spark that behind the trees would be a small human village with wooden homes and a large tree in the very centre of town.
"I know this place." He whispered, afraid to shake the peace of the world around him.
Elita-1 took his hand and pulled him through the trees, literally, as their bodies phased through the vegetation.
"I know you do." She said with a small yet still joyous smile.
He was right in his bet. There before him was an old human village, the houses built from wood, lanterns strewn through the streets to illuminate them, and there, right in the middle standing roughly twenty or so feet, was a large pine tree, fixed into place by rope and chains, beautiful yet simple decorations strewn across the tree's bristles like a work of art.
There also were the people of the village, the small humans wearing furred jackets and boots to keep themselves warm. Some were playing instruments filling the air with sweet beautiful music. Many others were dancing merrily to the tune with lovers smiling to each another a silent promise of forever. Married couples young and old basked in their love for one another and the children were laughing, rolling snow into their gloved hands and throwing it to one another.
The old one couldn't suppress a small laugh that escaped his mouth. He knew this place, he knew it very well, the good times he had witnessed these people have and the good times he himself had participated with them in.
His eyes roamed, wondering if he could locate one particular human. He couldn't from this distance and thus moved closer, faster than he should have but he cared little. All the while Elita-1 watched him with a calm and knowing smile, a small tear of Energon running down her cheek.
The old one landed carefully, his large rear hitting the ground, yet nothing disturbed the humans. He was merely a ghost of time and couldn't interfere with the past.
'Where are you? Where are you?' he wondered as he looked valiantly.
"Perhaps we could get in a little closer?" Elita-1 said from behind him, a hand placed on his shoulder, suddenly everything started to grow around him, the tree became larger, the buildings. Or was he shrinking? He stood up once the shrinking feeling stopped, standing roughly six feet tall. He looked up and around, mesmerised by everything as if seeing it for the first time.
"You really don't get the full beauty of it, until you witness it through THEIR eyes."
Surprised yet amazed at the new perspective, he said softly, "I can find him now."
The old one rushed off, with Elita-1 running to keep up.
"Who are we looking for?" she asked, though she knew the answer already.
"My…my friend, my first friend, I know he's here somewhere." The old one said then paused immediately in his tracks, his eyes focused on one being.
A little boy, no older than ten and no younger than seven, a large floppy hat over his head that also covered his ears.
"Peter." The old one whispered to himself, and walked closer.
The child 'Peter' rolled up a snowball and threw it at a girl who seemed a little older than him. Peter laughed as he ran off, the girl chasing him with a snowball in her hand.
"Go on Peter, run! Run!" the old one laughed, and followed them.
"Enjoying yourself?" Elita-1 asked as she followed.
The old one didn't answer and continued to follow the children.
Peter slipped, skidding across the snow. He tried frantically to get up, all the while laughing, only for the girl to catch up. She lifted up his hat and plopped the snowball down onto his head before replacing his hat, making the young boy yelp from the sudden cold.
"She got you again." The old one laughed as the older girl smirked at the boy who was frantically trying to get snow out of his hair. "She always did, didn't she Peter? That's why you married her."
The old one smiled, a sad yet hopeful smile, memories of good times, simpler times, came rushing back to him.
Then he heard it, they all heard it, a familiar jingle jangle of a bell up high in the sky, followed by a call he knew all too well.
"HO, HO, HO."
"NICOLAUS!" the humans cried and pointed to the sky.
The old one looked up and saw himself in his alt form, flying across the sky, circling here and there before flying down into the forest, as one the humans rushed out of their village, down the man made path and towards a location that was used only once a year.
"You really like a dramatic entrance." Elita-1 noted.
"They liked it," he replied nonchalantly.
Elita-1 simply gave him a knowing look and a smirk.
"Alright, I got a kick out of it." He said somewhat embarrassed, before following the humans.
Once they caught up they saw his old self now in his robot mode, sitting upon a crudely made chair made of cut down trees, tiny decorations covering his beard that could be identified as hair, both made of a mess of long and short wires. Upon his knee sat humans both young and old. He spoke to them in their language, his voice soft and caring, asking them what they wanted for Christmas.
One old man asked for a new walking cane as his was withered, old and on the verge of breaking.
"I have that." The old one of the past spoke softly, reaching into a large metal container beside him, searching ever so gently through it. Finally he plucked a small, wrapped item before gently handing it to the human, who felt it through the wrapping paper and smiled up to the large gift giver.
"How long had you been doing it at this point?" Elita-1 asked.
"Not long," he shrugged, "two or three hundred years at this point, maybe longer, I forget at this point."
"Something's missing though." Elita-1 noticed as she looked up to the Cybertronian of the past.
"Nicolaus!" one of the adults yelled as they finished receiving their gifts. The Old Cybertronian turned and smiled to the adult.
"Yes?" he replied gently.
"We have something for you this year." The adult replied and nodded to the other, larger male adults. The four burly men rushed to the sides of the forest, picked up large ropes and pulled something towards them, the object seemed to be heavy by the strain of which the men pulled.
"What is it?" the old Cybertronian of the past asked curiously.
Then he saw it. They pulled a large wooden sledge, but it was what was upon the sledge that was important.
Bark of trees, dozens if not hundreds wrapped around one another in a wicker like fashion, all woven together starting out large and round at the bottom and growing steadily thinner at the top with a large wooden ball at the top.
It was a hat…the hat.
The Old Cybertronian's hand immediately went to his head, finding his most treasured item missing. Then he remembered, the hat had been crushed by Megatron, splintered and nearly beyond use, and a deep sorrow filled his spark. He watched silently as the men dragged it closer allowing the past Cybertronian to pick it up delicately, running his large metal hand and his metal fingers through the material.
"It's beautiful," He said and smiled to the humans before him, "I shall treasure it, always." And with that he sat the hat upon his head, letting it sink till it fit snuggly upon his scalp.
"The perfect fit."
The humans cheered and he smiled down to them.
The Old Cybertronian closed his eyes, wanting to do the human thing called crying but unable to do so.
"Never give up hope my friend," Elita-1 told him, "because THEY never gave up on YOU."
Suddenly he felt himself restrained once more, opening his eyes he saw himself back on the Nemesis.
His arms once again restrained, his hat not too far from him, he gritted his teeth and pulled with all his might, the restraints groaned in use as he reached for his beloved object. He grabbed it by the wooden ball and pulled it closer, strands of bark and twigs falling from its broken form, and once more, ever so gently placed it on his head.
He sat up, bringing his knees up to his chest and sighed, looking around hoping to see his old friend again, he saw nothing…nothing but the despair that was the holding cell.
"I can't go on." He grumbled to himself.
He sat there in silent defeat, his mind going over his better memories. Then he heard laughing, but it was not the laughter of the vile tyrant, it was pleasant, cheerful even.
"Who is there?" The Old Cybertronian called.
The pounding of approaching feet was heard. Was Megatron coming back? Starscream? Maybe someone else…?
The footsteps stopped at the door. The doors began to groan as they were forcefully pulled open, revealing a red and white bearded being not unlike himself.
"Well, well!" the new Cybertronian laughed. "It's almost like looking in a mirror."
"Sentinel Prime?" the Old Cybertronian asked, confused as to the appearance of the deceased Prime.
"It's good to see you again, old man." Sentinel chuckled as the restraints once again disappeared with the old one noticing.
"I take it you are here to show me hope." The old one guessed.
"Correct." Sentinel Prime replied as he stepped forward while putting his hand into his beard. "Come on, we've got stuff to do and things to see." The dead Prime replied before pulling out what the old one recognised as a turkey leg, to which the old Prime then began to eat.
"Where did…?" the old one was interrupted as the dead Prime grabbed his arm and the pair vanished into light.
"Open your eyes old man, you need to see this." Sentinel instructed him.
The Old Cybertronian opened his eyes and saw they were yet again in some form of forestry region, judging from the size of the trees, they were either very large or he and Sentinel were the size of humans.
"Where are we now?" the old asked.
Sentinel Prime simply tore some turkey from the leg, chewed it happily before swallowing, "Where? Take a closer look…I'm sure you recognise it."
The old one was hesitant to admit he already knew. The trees were the same, the snow upon the ground was the same. He was near the little human village where his little friend Peter used to live. He hadn't visited in such a long time. The people would have forgotten him. It was for the best he supposed, no one could know of their existence now.
"Why are we here?" he dared to ask.
"Follow me." Sentinel replied while stuffing the turkey leg away into his beard and stepped through the clearing.
The old one observed how time had affected the village. Where wooden houses once stood were now concrete two story buildings, a store for various goods, a gym, this and that. It was a small modern community, but one thing that had not changed was the tree in the dead centre of the town, now covered with tinsel, lights and a star on the very top.
"Some things never change." The Sentinel told him then chuckled.
"Why are we here?" the old one asked as they approached the village, no one able to see the ghosts of time.
"Hope comes from places you'd least expect it." Sentinel replied with a knowing smirk across his metallic mouth.
"What are-?" the old one's words were cut short as something exploded violently in the distance.
Before anyone could wonder what was going on, the sound of helicopters approaching was heard along with the sound of gunfire. Soldiers – no, mercenaries - came pouring out from the tree line towards the villagers, large advanced rifles raised at them.
From above came a voice, "EVERYONE ON THE GROUND IMMEDIATELY! TO ALL WHO CAN HEAR THIS, YOU ARE UNDER THE CONTROL OF MECH. DO NOT RETALIATE AND SURRENDER IMMEDIATELY!"
The Old Cybertronian gasped in horror as people were rounded up. "Surely someone knows this is happening?!" the old one asked in a panicked tone.
"They are too far from any major city. No human force is coming to their rescue." Sentinel replied.
The old one barely heard Sentinel's words. He looked around, panicking. He moved without thinking.
"LEAVE THEM ALONE!" he yelled, trying to stop them, but alas his body simply phased through them. "THEY DID NOTHING TO YOU!" he cried.
"Please…leave them be." He begged.
"They cannot hear you." Sentinel replied, patting the old one on the back. "We are merely ghosts out of time."
"I wish I had been here, when was this?" he asked.
"A few hours ago, before your capture," Sentinel replied, "no human force will learn of what has happened for another few hours from now."
"I failed them, I f-failed them!" the old one watched on.
"DROP THE GUN!" one of the mercenaries yelled.
The old one and Sentinel turned their head to look at one of the townsfolk, holding a simple double-barreled shotgun in his hand pressing it at the helmeted head of one of the mercenaries, as others pointed their weapons at him. It was a stand-off.
"Drop the gun and we will not open fire." Another mercenary said.
The atmosphere was tense. The man with the shotgun shook hesitantly, his eyes focused on his family for a second. The mercenaries had their fingers ever so gently pressing the triggers of their rifles.
'Someone do something.' The old one mentally pleaded.
The tension was suddenly broken as the earth began to shake violently. From above something struck one of the helicopters, destroying it and sending its remains crashing to the ground.
"ALL UNITS WE HAVE INCOMING HOSTILE!" the voice from above called out.
Suddenly a deep throated vicious roar rang out through the whole town, the pounding grew heavier when suddenly something large and menacing dived from the tree line and landed on the ground in the town. Large brown scaled armour adorned its body with blue metallic-like skin on its face. It looked to the sky as its deep red eyes turned green and fired a bolt of Energon at more helicopters and planes.
"I know him." The old one gasped, seeing the mercenaries turn their attention to the feral Cybertronian.
"From a year or two ago…correct." Sentinel replied.
The mercenaries fired their rifles at the angered ex-Decepticon, the high calibre bullets slamming pathetically against his armoured body as he turned, his eyes illuminating green again and fired, reducing the mercenaries to ash.
The townsman fired his shotgun into a nearby mercenary, the birdshot penetrating through the flimsy helmet and killing him. He rushed over picking up the rifle and turned it on the other mercenaries.
"Such carnage." the old one gasped.
"Even through carnage there is hope, my old friend," Sentinel replied. "They came together as a community…as a FAMILY…to protect one another," he paused and looked to the ex-Con, "…and there's HIM."
The old one tore his gaze from the destruction to the large Decepticon, "What OF him?"
"A Decepticon who fights for those weaker than he, a Decepticon whose entire life is bound by self-imposed rules and laws, a Decepticon who is trying to make up for the chaos he had committed in past."
The old one looked to his feet then up to the ex-Con.
"Everyone deserves a second chance." He whispered to himself.
In the blink of an eye the chaos was over, the ex-Con Dynobot stood victoriously.
The townsfolk watched him, they were afraid, terrified. Then one boy, no older than ten tore himself away from his mother's hands and walked towards the large imposing figure.
The giant looked down with deep demonic red eyes, a curious expression on his face.
The child wordlessly lifted a small candy cane towards the warrior.
The parent screamed for the child to return to them as the rest merely watched in silent panic.
The warrior knelt down ever so carefully, bringing his face only a few feet away from the boy.
"Thank you." The child whispered.
The warrior tilted his head, staying quiet for only a moment before replying.
"You're welcome." he replied in a deep throaty voice, his eyes focused on the candy cane, and ever so carefully he took it between his large clawed fingers, "Thank you."
"You're welcome." The boy replied, smiling ever so slightly.
The crowd waited with bated breath as the warrior lifted the candy cane into his mouth and swallowed it in one gulp. He nodded to the boy before standing up.
"They may return, be prepared," he warned them all. "Farewell." he said before turning and walking away from the village.
"Even those who have done great evil are capable of astounding kindness…of redemption." Sentinel told the old one.
The old one did not reply and simply watched as the Decepticon left. He turned his gaze towards the boy and gasped, "…Peter?" he wondered.
"Close…his great, great grandson." Sentinel replied.
The old one lowered his gaze and closed his eyes, "They had hope, and even when all seemed hopeless...sometimes one's hope can be repaid."
Sentinel said nothing and placed a gentle hand on the old one's back.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself back in his cell on the Nemesis, his restraints still tugging on his arms. He looked up and glared at the wall, gritted his teeth pushing himself past his pain and began to pull his arms, trying with all his might to break free from his restraints for a moment before allowing his arms to rest by his side.
"I, I can't, I can't." he panted.
He felt something drip onto his head, blinking with confusion he looked up as something dark dripped onto his face.
'What?' he wondered before the drips turned into a little trickle. He moved himself away as the trickle turned into a rush of water. "No, not water," The old one gasped, "Dark Energon."
Dark Energon poured from the ceiling onto the floor, pooling by the old one's feet and spreading out rapidly. It then began to take shape. A figure seemed to grow from the Energon, wrapped in a dark dank cloak. The Dark Energon ceased to pour as the entirety of it took the shape of this large cloaked figure. Deep burning red eyes stared at the old one from within the hood.
"Are you here, to show me what is to come?" he asked, terrified by the sight of the creature before him.
The figure did not reply as its cloak began to grow longer, the tips spreading out towards the old one.
"No, no stay back!" he cried as the edges wrapped around his metal legs and began to pull him closer, "NO, LEAVE ME!" he cried out louder as the cloak opened and pulled the Old Cybertronian inside.
The old one shivered, not daring to open his eyes and the potential horror that would be before him. He felt long, cold fingers grab his eyelids and force them open. The old one yelled out in horror at the sight.
The world was in ruins. Before him was a forest - no, the forest - the trees were dead, burnt and singed or left as stumps.
"By the AllSpark, no." the old one gasped.
"Please, please no, no, NO NO NO NO NO!" he yelled and ran as fast as he could towards the village, or what may have remained. He didn't like what saw.
The town, somewhat larger than last he saw, was in utter ruin, like an enormous bomb had exploded. The buildings were crushed or falling to pieces, the ground was broken open unevenly. There were bodies on the floor. Bones, ash, and torn clothing littered the pavement, and there at the centre was the tree, standing strong yet broken. No tinsel, no lights, no decoration except for the lone blackened star at the top.
"No, please…please no." he fell to his knees in defeat and struck the ground. "I don't want the end to be like this."
"Then do not lose hope." came a shrill echoing voice.
The old one turned to see the cloaked figure come up to him, the cloak billowing in the winds.
"…Megatronus?"
"Do not give up hope, for if you do then all is truly lost." Megatronus Prime said in a haunting voice before the wind began to pick up once more.
The cloak spun around the ancient Prime's body and enveloped up. Darkness began to seep from his body and spread out across the world.
The old one simply watched, his hands clenched in fists of determination. A steely look in his eyes, he allowed the darkness to envelop him.
He awoke once more in his cell. Lying on his front, he stared at the door defiantly. Getting up to one knee he looked to his restraints and he pulled, he pulled with all his might. He couldn't give up, not now, not ever. He wasn't a coward and he wasn't afraid. Peter believed in him and the humans of the past believed in him. Now he had to believe in himself, because even when the world was its darkest there was always hope.
With a mighty cry he tore his arms free, the generators for the energy restraints shattering from the strain, and as the Old Cybertronian stood he could hear Megatron returning.
This time, he was going to give Megatron a piece of his mind and the tyrant would know who he was truly dealing with.
To be Concluded...
A/N - I would like to take a moment and thank JasonVUK for contributing this sensational chapter. Working with Jason on this story has been a wonderful experience, and I look forward to the opportunity to any future collaborations. Best Christmas Present...EVER.
