Chapter 14
Somewhere deep inside that place of infinite darkness, Demona stood searching for light.
She was whole, armor void of any of the scars she'd acquired over the long, lonely years of her life. But she felt so...strange. Empty, as if her spark were gone. As if there was no hope.
Her red optics did not light, even though they were online. She waited, gaze raised to the sky, for a beautiful sun to rise. She waited to see the world bathed in colors, waited for it guide her back to where she needed to be.
But not even a star dotted the inky blackness that surrounded her.
Her toes sunk into the wet earth, and a strange, familiar scent filled the air. But she just couldn't remember what it was...What is this place? Why am I here?
Demona struggled to put together a logical answer. Had Megatron sent her? Was she running an errand for him? Why is it so dark?
Her insides went cold as a horrified scream tore through the air, nearly tearing her in half with it's intensity. It lasted for long minutes before abruptly cutting off. Something about the voice pulled at Demona, something about it was familiar...
So she took a step towards it, but her claws landed on something metal, something that gave in beneath her weight with a sharp whine. Demona stepped back quickly, squinting in vain to try to decipher what it was. It was then that she remembered what had such a familiar smell. Energon.
An unexplainable fear coursed through her as she realized that, for the scent to be this strong, there must be a lot of it nearby.
A sudden blinding flash lit the sky as a streak of lightning arced down and struck the ground, shaking it. It cast the light she had yearned for, lighting the world around her.
Her optics widened.
Cybertron as she knew it surrounded her, with it's old black metal towers and crumbling cities. Her eyes dropped from the distant buildings to the ground as the fright continued to grow. She hoped to Primus that she wasn't about to see what she thought she would.
Cybertronian carcasses littered the ground, the energon that had once flowed through their bodies had drained into the dirt, wetting the soot and ash. Her eyes traveled slowly down to what she had stepped on.
It was the empty shell of a sparkling, tiny plates of armor crushed and it's optics dark with death. It's spark was extinguished, an empty space in it's chest. Demona tore her eyes away and scanned the area around her, finding more and more. But it wasn't just sparklings.
There were femmes, too. Some where curled around their young protectively, others lay with weapons still formed out of their armor. Some were mangled to the point of being unrecognizable, others had been killed with one accurate shot to the spark.
No.
Her body tensed as she continued to wildly search, looking for some sign of life, any. Thunder roared and another strip of lightning danced down. Her gaze fell upon a form a long ways away, a body that was standing upright.
Relief filled her when she recognized the thick gray armor, the jagged long claws and thick frame. She was about to take a step towards him when he swept an arm down and lifted a screaming sparkling from the chest of another felled femme.
Demona watched, horrified, as he crushed the little one in his claws. He dropped the body to the ground when the spark flickered out, and threw back his head to let loose a round of dark laughter.
Again, thunder rolled above them.
Pain crashed through her, but a sudden, fresh rage rapidly built up deep inside her, quickly overwhelming the hurt. With a musical cling of metals, her claw blades slid out from under her armor, and she screamed, tilting her head back. Her enraged cry penetrated the shadows, and the darkness cracked and tore away to reveal blinding white light.
Wind rushed around her as she came crashing back from that hell. She came back to her body, laying on her back on some cold metal berth.
Demona's anger came with her, though, as the memory of her mech creator gladly killing hundreds of innocents burned bright in her processor. Her entire body tensed, and with a dark snarl she onlined her optics, sitting up as her blades shot out and clenched around her fisted hands.
Something brushed against her side and she fixed her murderous stare on it, raising her blades to attack. Organic green optics fixed on her, holding her gaze until Demona could see through the thick haze of hate.
Gears' small hands were pressed against a jagged, torn chunk of armor that had somehow managed to stay attached to her body. Her thumb stroked over it softly, her eyes full of concern. Demona stared down at her as the human said softly, "Demona, it's OK...it was just a dream."
Demona forced herself to look away, instead focusing on the autobot medic who had one of his saws spinning dangerously over his arm. His blue optics were narrowed, ready to disable her if needed.
She lowered her gaze down to her hands, to the weapons Megatron had forged for her. She shuttered her optics tightly, clenching them. She had to get her processor on something else or she would go mad, reliving that fragging dream from the pit. She whispered, not really processng what was leaving her vocals, "if I am not a tool to be used, and if I am not his 'child', then what am I?"
She felt that fragging woman climb up over one of her damaged legs and lift a hand to touch one of her claw blades. Gears gently wiped at a scratch on it, watching Demona's face, "anything you want to be."
The blades retracted slowly so they didn't catch the human's delicate fingers. The autobot relaxed in the background.
"...why..." Demona mentally cursed herself for the way her voice broke, opening her optics and staring at Gears in pain and confusion, "...why do you have such faith in me?...I...I don't understand..."
Gears leaned against one of her hands, now resting against her legs. Her green eyes softened, "you're not evil, Demona. You're not a weapon. You sacrificed yourself to keep that family safe, and then you went further and dug your way out so they could survive and get help. You're a protector, not a killer."
The declaration stunned Demona into silence as she tried to process what the woman had just said to her.
Gears smiled and changed subjects, "I called home today. I told Alex that you were hurt and he wanted his brother to drop everything and drive him over here...He wanted me to tell you to get better soon so you could come back. He also wanted me to tell you sweet dreams before you go to sleep tonight."
Demona's gaze gentled. Gears' words wrapped around her spark like a thick blanket, even as sudden exhaustion filled her. Her body sagged slightly. The medic took it as his cue, striding over and supporting her as he slowly laid her back, "You need to rest, youngling. Your body is too weak for conversation."
Demona dimmed her optics as recharge started to pull her in. She remained aware of Gears, who remained where she was on her leg.
Was it just a dream? the thought whispered through her head before she slipped back into darkness.
Huh.
Don't know what to say about this one, except I don't really care for it...not sure where it came from...
Demona, Gears and her family, and the story belong to me. Transformers and it's original characters do not.