In what seemed like five minutes, maybe less, it was over. About seven bodies joined the corpses in the Sea of Rust, soon to rot in the very death Prime stood upon. He was quick. Damn quick. But, he packed one HELL of a punch, too. To the Decepticons, Prime was the devil. Maybe not as much as Megatron, but he was very much feared. At least with Prime, he wouldn't be gruesome. He would give you a quick death and that was that. If you tried to surrender, well, he'd let you. Never was such a thing as 'no prisoners' with Prime. This was well known amongst the Cons, but even so, it surprised the eighth one when he was spared.

He had quite the wound on his arm; his own knife straight through the forearm, biceps shot to hell. Not to mention, he was leaking energon from his abdomen; yeah, one HELL of a punch. Not enough for him to bleed out. He'd manage to get back to Kaon in about 12-13 hours, Prime figured. Optimus was done looking at the bodies and made his way to the survivor.

The soldier moved his good arm to crawl away, only for Prime to step on it ever so gently… making the Con scream for his life. When the scream died, the warrior spoke.

"Tell me, son… did you really think THAT would end well? I gave you three chances to drop 'em. You should have headed those warnings."
"Oh, would you just end it already? Go on, slaughter me like you did them!"
Prime stood on the arm more and the screaming started again, only for him to cut him off. "Do I look like Megatron to you? Normally, I'd take you prisoner, but since there's no room, you can go back to where you came from. You caught me in a particularly bad mood. That wasn't even my worst."

He stood off and began to walk towards his fallen comrade. Draping himself in his cloak again, as the storm returned, he turned to the Con. "There are some covers in the array. I advise you use them. It wasn't smart of you to come here without any."
The Con was bewildered at the… what was the word they never used… kindness?

With that, the wandering warrior went on his way. A flash of green light was seen in the mild storm, and then silence.

Inside the Ground Bridge room (what else would they call it?), waited a very grouchy doctor, two ecstatic scientists and a very worried partner.

Through the green light approached Optimus, with the body in his arms. He could feel the mixed looks. Shock, disappointment, sadness, anger, relief. To be honest, he wasn't surprised. He failed them.
The doctor spoke. "Optimus… you didn't find any of it? At all?"
The distraught leader retorted dryly "I'm fine, thanks Ratchet. Can you see that our friend gets the resting place he deserves? Please?"
"Yes, of course. My apologies for not putting you fir-… Is that Smokescreen?"
"I'm afraid so. He bled out after a good, long while."
"Arcee will be devastated."
"At least she'll have closure."
"And, the energon?"
"Drained. By… by the Cons," he lied. There was no way in Hell he would tarnish a fallen friend.
Ratchet sighed, one that you could tell he was pretty much done with everything. The doctor took the body and was about to leave when Prime removed the cloak, revealing light scratches and wounds on his chassis.
One Autobot with a special place in his spark spoke up, "Optimus, you're wounded!"
Confused, Prime looked down. "Oh. It's nothing. A group of Cons tried to get me. They must have been doing another sweep to see if there was more."
One of the scientists, Wheeljack, interjected, "Come on, let grouchy check you out."
"Who the bloody Hell are you calling grouchy!?"
"Enough!" Prime ordered. "Look, I'm alright. And, my readings are fine Perceptor, before you ask. Just… let me rest. I'm tired."
The doc gave a nod, and ushered everyone but one out of the room.
"You look more tired than you have in these past decades. Dear, when did you last rest?" the femme inquired.
"If I told you, you'd kill me, Elita."
"I'd kill you regardless!" They both shared a chuckle, something that seemed to be absent for the whole war.
"I missed you, Elita."
"It was only a couple of missions, dear."
"Yeah, but it still drives me crazy… a bit like you do, when you're around."
"If you keep that up, I might just never rest with you again."
"Can you guarantee that?"
"…No."
With that Prime let out a full blown laugh, one that Elita joined in on quickly. As the laughter died down, they intertwined their hands.

"I missed you too, Optimus."

"15 fracking hours they've been gone!" yelled a Con trooper. The rain poured down hard, almost drenching the argument between two soldiers in silence.
"What are you yelling at me for? I didn't send them out there!"
"I'm not yelling!"
"Uh huh, sure."
"They should have been back by now!"
"Well, they aren't! Will you be patient, for spark's sake? You have any idea how dangerous that place is?"
"Obviously, not that dangerous if they don't let us take cloaks!"
"We don't have any cloaks!"
"Why the slag not!?"
"Because, SOMEBODY forgot to clear out the last factory before we burned the damn thing!"
"I was busy!"
"Doing what?"
"… Screaming in terror."
"Screaming in WHAT!? There was nothing in there to be scared of!"
"It was dark! I hate darkness!"
"… You. Have got. To be kidding me."
"Don't judge me!"
"How are you even in this army?"

This probably went on for about thirty minutes before the lone survivor appeared.
"Why am I even bothering with… what the slag?"
The soldier staggered to them, almost on the verge of passing out. The two bickering soldiers went to him and, noticing the absence of the rest, instructed two others to guide him to Darkmount, the Decepticon command tower.

Within this tower, the Emperor of Destruction sat on his iron throne. And snarled.