What's Left of the Flag
Author's Notes: Song lyrics borrowed from "What's Left of the Flag" as performed by Flogging Molly, and "Come Out Ye Black and Tans" as performed by the Brobdingnagian Bards.
"Walk away, me boys, walk away, me boys, and by morning we'll be free! Wipe that golden tear from your mother dear, and raise what's left of the flag for me!" Three, no two, voices rose up in chorus, loud and cheerful for all that it was a death-song. The curious double-voice sang the song itself, while the single voice sang the instruments.
The two ex-Decepticons, red slashes over their purple symbols, sat outside on a pair of broken crates, optics too dim for them to be over-charged. Their guards looked confused, but since the the ex-'cons were singing in English, that wasn't surprising. Irritating, Goldbug thought, but not surprising. Ever since Earth had made it clear that they didn't want the Cybertronians around, people seemed to be trying hard to forget about it.
Stupid, he'd say if anyone asked, but no one did. He was one of the Ark Autobots, and he was supposed in retirement and let the newer models decide how the world should be run. The fact that he and Cliffjumper and most of the other minibots had turned political instead of retiring seemed to stick in the craw of the so-called Council of Elders.
Goldbug sauntered over to them and stood just outside the guard perimeter to listen. It was a little disturbing to realize that Blitzwing and Astrotrain were the two largest people around. Everyone else seemed to be moving for a smaller and smaller forms, but someone (Warpath and Powerglide, as he recalled) had gotten it hammered through into law that the Autobots couldn't force their Decepticons prisoners to be rebuilt. They had to choose it on their own.
He wondered how long it would take someone to realize that they could starve the Decepticon prisoners into accepting rebuilds. Triple-changers, especially, used a lot of fuel compared to the standard size of Autobots these days.
The two Decepticons fell silent, optics on him, their song ended.
Goldbug touched his helm in a human salute. "Come out, ye black and tans."
The raucuous laughter of the triple-changers followed him the rest of the way across the spaceport docks.
End