Disclaimer: 'Transformers' does not belong to me. It belongs to ye olde Hasbro. The title 'Soldier's Things' is taken from a song by Tom Waits, I take no credit for it.
"His rifle, his boots full of rocks
And this one is for bravery
And this one is for me
And everything's a dollar
In this box..." - Tom Waits 'Soldier's Things'
One hit was all it took and he was down. Pathetic, was his first thought. He'd been shot so many times before, but it seemed this one had just hit the jackpot. He was certain this was it. The bullet with his name on it had finally found him, and had made its new home in his chassis. The first thing that came to his mind was Sideswipe. All he could think about was that he couldn't leave him behind, couldn't leave him on his own. His mind was coming up with all these reasons why he couldn't go, as if it would make a difference.
The battlefield was hot. He could still hear bullets snapping past above him. The sounds of the battle begun to fade, the shouting, the screaming, the shooting…it all merely became distorted background noise. His mind began to wander. He found himself thinking over his crazy life, and everything seemed clearer than it had ever done. Simpler.
He was just a soldier. He was disposable. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had always known that things would end like this, and he had always look upon it with both fear and fascination. Funny though, he'd always thought it would be filled with more glory than this. He'd always pictured dying in battle to be an honourable thing. But instead, he lay on some filthy, destroyed ground, far away from home, feeling energon filling up his throat and pouring out of his mouth. This wasn't how he'd imagined it at all. There was no honour in this, he thought.
He no longer cared about being awarded medals for valour, bravery, for making the ultimate sacrifice. They couldn't be taken with him where he was going. He didn't care about being put to rest with his rifle across his chest, it was useless to him now. He didn't even care how he looked anymore, they could just pound the dents out of him if they wanted to make him look a bit more presentable when they sent him off. He'd be just another number when he was gone. One of millions of soldiers whose lives had been consumed by this never-ending conflict.
He suddenly felt overwhelming sorrow, felt it choking him. He didn't want to be forgotten, to be lost in the history of a bloody war. At least if someone remembered him, he'd still live on, if only in another's memory.
The world suddenly began to become darker. He had suffered excessive energon loss and was no doubt about to offline, before the inevitable. Then he heard a voice…
"You ain't going anywhere just yet…"
A/N: This part of 'Soldier's Things' will actually cross over into another part focusing on someone else. Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed so far, it's extremely appreciated!