Brother's Story

Chapter 2

We fought. We clashed over and over again. We each struggled against the force of the other, each of us willing to bring this battle to the bitter end.

My memories of that night are very clear now, but at the time, the scene only unfurled itself as a series of images. Here was Megatron his sword raised over me, wet with my oil. There I was, flying, swerving away from him in the air, as the smoke from the fires clogged my mouth and covered my eyes with a thin film of ash. Here was the inferno, all of the orange and red flickering lights, burning the very air with waves of fiery heat. And there, for one instant, somewhere in the back of my mind, was my brother, Metalwing, as I remembered him, young and kind, but also fierce with the desire to live.

I could see no trace of him in the monster that stood before me now.

Sometime during the night, the thought entered my head that perhaps the only way this could end was for one of us to kill the other. It even occurred to me that perhaps I would be the one to kill Megatron. But what that would mean for me afterward, I could barely comprehend. That night, as I fought, I had entered a state of mind. I didn't think consciously or with any real feeling. It was almost like I was in a trance. All I could focus on was what will be my next move, how can I get to him without letting him get to me. And even those weren't real thoughts; they were more like impulses. I was using only my instincts that night, my mind was lost in the pain and the speed and the whirlwind of fire and smoke.

Megatron lunged at me, his twin swords slashing at the air in front of him. I flew upward, trying to evade him, but I was just a millisecond too slow. One blade caught my ankle, slicing it along the joint. I screamed in pain as I felt the oil begin to flow from the wound and drip to the ground below. I circled around, looking for an opening for me to strike.

I took too long. One of Megatron's shoulder cannons raised itself up on a hinge that I couldn't see and fired. A beam of bright purple light sliced the air open just below me. I swerved to avoid it, feeling the heat of the blast as it careened past me and into the night. I wheeled around again and dove down towards him, meaning to strike, but a second blast took my off-guard, and instead, I slammed into Megatron sideways. One wing crushed against his chest, the other flapping uselessly. Megatron took this opportunity and ran his sword across my back. A new surge of pain overtook me. I screamed again and flailed uselessly. Suddenly, a glint of light caught my eye. It was one of the shoulder cannons, still lowering in its resting position. I raised my head and clamped my beak onto the thin metal tube. With an enormous effort I snapped my head up and down until I heard a crack and the cannon was dangling uselessly in my mouth, now completely separate from him. He cried out in pain and fury and seized my head. With both hands, he slowly pried my beak apart. The broken cannon fell out of my mouth with a clatter and rolled away on the hot metal pavement. But he didn't stop there. He continued to pull at my jaws, prying with all his strength, until my beak was as wide as it could go. Even then, he didn't stop, but continued to pull, until we both heard a sickening snap. Oil poured freely out of my mouth as he let go and my bottom jaw flapped against my neck, now useless. The pain that seared my mouth and shot all the way down into my throat was blinding. I was choking, both on the pain and on the hot oil that streamed from my broken jaws.

I quickly threw myself away from him and transformed. Now, standing before him in robot mode, I was no longer strange. I was now a familiar entity, like so many others before, easily dealt with. On top of that, now that I was in robot mode, my jaw was no longer broken, and the pain was now coming from a completely different source. Now, it was my back that was burning with pain. I felt completely disoriented. I tottered for a moment on unsteady legs, gagging on oil that was no longer there.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I felt a blow on the side of my head. The power of it was devastating. I soared backward, caught completely off-guard and landed in a heap a little distance away. For a moment, static crackled across my vision and a popping noise filled my head. I raised my hand and placed it on my head and felt a dent. As I ran my finger over it gingerly, I felt a distinct rattling that I knew wasn't supposed to be there.

I looked up, searching for him, and saw him standing a few feet away, looking at me with an expression of cold fury. He glared at me this way for a few seconds, before reaching down and picking up his sword, the one that he had dropped in order to break my jaw. He then locked his eyes on mine and began to converge on me, the blade raised in front of him like a shield.

Before I could raise myself up, he was right in front of me, the curved tip of his sword pointing against my throat. I raised my chin up, trying to put as much distance as possible between my neck and that blade. But I knew it was useless. Megatron glared down at me coldly, his teeth bared.

"It's over, Brother," he told me. "You've lost."

"Not yet," I told him, "Not yet."

"Don't be a fool," he hissed, pressing the sword against the underside of my chin. "You can't honestly hope to defeat me. You're trapped, Brother."

I couldn't argue. I was trapped. I only glared up at him silently and waited for him to go on.

His tone softened to a low growl. "I will give you one last chance, Brother," he said, "Surrender to me now, and I will spare you. Refuse…" He pressed his sword even closer to my neck for emphasis.

"… And you will die."

A part of me assumed he was bluffing. Yet, another part of me, deep down, knew that he wasn't. I let out a harsh laugh, real or false I couldn't tell. "You'd really kill your own brother, Metalwing? After everything I've done for you?"

He was unmoved. "If you force me," he whispered.

I stared up at him for a long time. Then, I lowered my head, pretending to be lost in despair. He watched me carefully. I still felt the sword against my neck. I knew that no matter what I did, that blade would still bite into me somewhere. But I also knew that it didn't have to be my throat. I would have to be careful.

I continued to look away from Megatron, pretending to be crushed by grief. I guess I wasn't really fooling him because I could still feel his eyes on me, intently watching my every move. I had to fool him. I had to make him think I had given up. So I did the only thing I could think to do:

I closed my eyes.

Anyone who has ever fought in any fashion ever knows that closing your eyes is one of the stupidest things you could possibly do. It was to render yourself voluntarily blind; it was to take away all the advantages that seeing provided. It was putting faith in your other senses, faith that most people don't have. With my eyes closed, I was helpless, a huge, blind target.

But I knew that that wouldn't matter to me if I had given up.

And it was then, only then, when my eyes were closed, that I felt the blade slacken. It lowered itself slightly, pressed itself less severely against my metal plating. Megatron, for whatever reason, was buying my charade.

I knew I didn't have much time. Once I moved, if I took even a microsecond longer than I needed to do anything, it could mean my death. Quickly, without opening my eyes, I slid down onto my back and curled myself under the sword. I felt the blade slide across me, but the pain was not on my neck but on the side of my head. I ignored the pain and the new stream of oil coming down and extended my arm, my talons flashing, and curled my hand tightly in front of me.

I felt myself grip something wide and hard. My talons were sinking into a hard surface, cracking it as they went. I opened my eyes. My reach hadn't been in vain. My hand had grabbed onto Megatron's shin plate and was now slowly tearing it apart.

But Megatron didn't waste any time either. Before I could think of a way to get up on my feet, I felt the blade come whizzing back down again. Without thinking about what might happen next, I rolled forward, knocking myself into his legs. Megatron stumbled, in spite of himself, and stepped back; the tip of his blade just barely clipped my now useless alt mode's head.

I had bought myself a second, but only that one second. If I didn't get back on my feet soon, this fight wouldn't last much longer. Quickly I opened my eyes and spun myself around on the ground, extending my arm again as I did so. I heard and felt a dull scrape as my claws slid across the armor on his leg. Tiny metallic flecks hit my face. For one moment my vision was nothing but shades of gray and bright, flickering orange lights. Then suddenly, I was away from Megatron, my clawed arm extended in front of me in a low crouch. Megatron regained his balance and then snapped his gaze back up to me.

He was seething.

I expected him to lunge and me again, swiping at my throat with his sword. He did not. He simply stood there, glaring at me, but not making one move to injure me any further. Perhaps he was shocked that I had managed to get away from him. I used this opportunity of silence and rose slowly to my feet.

"Never," I whispered. "I'll never surrender, brother. Not to you. Not until this is over. I have nothing left to do, nothing left to live for, except this, brother. Why would I stand down now, now that everything I knew has been destroyed?" I felt another sob welling up in me. I choked it down and looked Megatron dead in the eye. "I'll never give up, Metalwing. Not until this is over."

Megatron did not react physically to my words. Yet, I saw something sharpen in his gaze, an extra flicker, a flame. And I realized what the last thing Scalpel ever saw must have been.

"So be it, Brother," he whispered. "So be it."

He shifted from one foot to the other, eyeing his prey the way a cobra might, before stepping to the left. He began to circle me.

"You are a traitor, Brother," he hissed. "But you are not a stranger to me like the others. You may have broken your promises, but I intend to keep mine. So I promise you… that your death shall be swift!"

Then, without any warning, he hurled his sword at me. I tried to dodge it, but I was unprepared; I couldn't move quickly enough. The blade struck me right at the lower base of my left wing. I screamed and took hold of the blade. It did not come out cleanly. The jagged edges… I felt them prying apart the metal on my wing. I heaved my arms forward and pulled the sword out, both feeling and hearing some of my parts hitting the stained ground. I looked up and saw Megatron charging his remaining cannon. I ducked just in time to feel the hot blast sail over my shoulder. I threw the sword away; I had no idea how to use it, and I raised my talons in front of me. Megatron brought out his other sword, and we both rose into the air and dived at each other.

We collided, and the rest of the world vanished.

That night was the longest of my life. The longest… and yet, the fastest, too. I still remember that time moved in strange bursts, one minute here, one minute there, nothing flowing, everything caught in rushing jerks. First, Metalwing was my brother, the only family I had, then suddenly he was gone, Metalwing was no more and there was only Megatron, a living god among the fire. First, we were talking, surrounded by the flickering glow, then we were in the air, weapons drawn, our oil pooling on the quickly heating ground. First, the world made sense, then it was all flushed down into a whirlwind of nightmarish dark and pain.

Maybe the other Decepticons realized that their leader was missing, had been missing for quite some time. Maybe they wondered what was keeping him. Or maybe they hadn't noticed at all and were still dancing and laughing in the hot ashes of the Autobots that were now their enemies. Maybe the whole planet, the whole world was watching our fight, or maybe no one knew about it, no one was watching and nobody cared. I didn't know. Neither did I care. All that existed for me that night was Megatron. Megatron and Metalwing and the fire and the smoke and the night that dragged on and on in its strange speeds and stops. That's how it transpired, two brothers in the circle of the flames, aiming to kill. The longest night of my life.

Megatron was the one who overtook me when we collided. He threw me roughly to the ground and brought his sword down again. I rolled, but not fast enough. With one swipe, my right arm was sliced open, the circuitry exposed to the open air. Pain jolted up my arm and clawed all the way past my shoulder. I screamed and propelled myself upward, slamming my throbbing shoulder into his chest. He fell backward, and I took the chance to regain my feet. I took the split-second opportunity to glance down at my arm. A mistake. A patch of the armor on my arm was completely gone, sawed away by the strange, jagged edges of Megatron's blade. Oil spurted out of the wound, staining my plumage, dripping onto the metal ground. An entire section of my arm had been torn away; I could see through the tear all the way to the silver metal at the core that I knew had to be my skeleton. I felt the pain in my arm double. My stomach rolled, and I felt, once again, that I was gagging on air. I made a mental note not to look at any of my wounds anymore.

How strange it was, to see your arm sliced open. To see any part of your body mangled so severely. I didn't dwell on it at the time; that would have surely meant my death, but if I had, I would have thought something like, That's my arm. That's the same arm that I've always had, in the same place that it's always been. I've had that arm ever since I was created. And now it's falling apart; all of my body is falling apart. And it may never be fixed. Oh, Primus, how am I supposed to do anything without my arm, without my body? It's always been there, always ready for me to use it. And now it might break down. Oh, Primus, oh, what am I supposed to do then?

But I was in the middle of a fight, and none of these thoughts actually occurred to me. They only lightly brushed against my consciousness, and that was all.

I locked my gaze back on Megatron, who was charging his remaining cannon, pointing it directly at me. Not thinking of what else I could do, I ducked; the hot blast careened over my head a second time. Then he held his sword aloft and swiped at me with it. I raised myself back up and avoided that, too. Then he made a move to sweep me off my feet using a kick. I jumped up into the air and moved a little to the side. His leg swept the ground under me uselessly.

That was the key, I suddenly realized. He was stronger than me and more heavily armed, but I was the faster. If I could just stay out of his way and nick him with my talons, I might be able to beat him. I was used to cutting and running; there was a chance that I might be able to pull this off.

I crouched down into a ready position, keeping my eyes locked on him. He continued to rain blows on me, with his sword, with his fists, with his cannon, with anything he could think of. I kept my distance, dodging and weaving through his attacks, looking for an opening. I could see at once the flaw with my strategy. Sure, I could possibly get away unscathed, but I also couldn't touch him. I was too far, and he left no opening for me to find, no weakness that I could asses. Before, when we were hand-to-hand, at least I could wound him some. I knew that if I kept this up long enough, he would wear down eventually, but I also knew that this was taking a toll on me, too. I couldn't keep this up forever.

My strategy was working in one way; he was starting to get frustrated. His blows were coming more rapidly now, and I could feel an increased power in them, in the way he moved, in the fierce intensity that seemed to be contained within. It was showing in his face, too. His eyes were wide, full of the flickering of the fire. His teeth were clenched. "Wretched coward," he snarled, "Fight back!" I didn't answer him. I kept moving, waiting. Waiting…

There. Just there. He had tried swiping at me with an outstretched hand when I saw it. There, at last, a weakness. He had swiped too hard and too angrily, without being careful, without covering up his defenses. His entire torso had turned with the power of his blow, and left his right shoulder completely exposed to me. I wasted no time. I used my wings and jolted myself forward, extending the claws of my left hand and digging them deep into his shoulder. He cried out in pain and anger and swung his fist back around, trying to throw me off. I moved out of the way and latched the claws of my other hand to the back of his neck, digging them in, feeling his armor crackle under my grip. My stomach heaved again, but I didn't let go, I couldn't, and my grip tightened while he struggled under me, tighter… tighter… tighter…

Suddenly, I felt his elbow slam into my abdomen. I gasped and released my grip, on instinct. He used this moment to throw me off of him; I felt myself suspended in the air for a moment before I landed on the ground, sliding with the force of his throw. I felt my head knock against the ground, and I had to pause for a moment to clear my head.

That was when I saw it. The sword. The one I had thrown to the ground earlier. It was still there, lying completely unattended. I had thrown it away because I figured I would have no use for it. And I was right, there was nothing I could do with it. I had no experience with fencing. I couldn't use that sword.

But Megatron could.

I knew then; I had to get to that sword. I had to get to it, and get rid of it, before Megatron.

And maybe I would find some use for it after all.

I scrambled to my feet and lunged at the sword, flapping my wings to increase my speed. Megatron saw what I was doing and dived for it also but too late, I had already grasped it. At the same moment my hand wrapped around the hilt, I felt something slam into me, knocking me sideways. I slid across the hard pavement on my stomach, tasting ash, all the while holding tightly onto the sword. I skidded to a stop and scrambled to my feet, doing my best to lug the sword up with me. I knew it was only a matter of seconds before Megatron came after me, so I flapped my wings and rose into the air once more.

Immediately, I felt the sword dragging me back down. I tried to hold it aloft the way I had seen Megatron do, but it was too heavy; it seemed to actually writhe back and forth in the air in front of me like an eel. Primus, what did this thing weigh anyway? I gave up, and gripped it by the handle, letting the blade dangle below me like a doll, and searched the ground for Megatron.

I found him in no time. He was in the exact same place he had been, glaring up at me. I kept my eyes on his form down below me, wondering all the while how this sword would affect my maneuverability, that maybe I should just drop it again after all. For a moment he paused, deciding what to do. Then his expression changed. I couldn't exactly tell, the smoke made the air hazy, and the flames were illuminating everything in a hellish light, warping everything into black and orange shadows, but it almost looked like he was smirking at me. I was confused. Why smile now, of all times? He wasn't exactly winning, so why?

Then I saw a small burst of blue flame and suddenly he was in the sky with me, his eyes level with mine.

I was honestly surprised by this move. My brother could always fly, but I had always been the better flyer. But then, those new wings… I eyed them nervously. I hadn't yet seen what they could do.

The first thing he did was fire his cannon again. I ducked; that was the easiest thing I could do with the sword constantly beckoning me downward with its weight. He continued firing, a different direction every time, knowing that I would not be able to dodge like I could normally. I tried to move as best I could, but the sword was dragging me down, almost as if it was actually binding me. And the thing was, I'm not even sure that Megatron was actually trying to hit me. He was wearing that same smirk the whole time he was firing at me, and his eyes seem to light up with my every struggle. He was getting a sadistic pleasure out of watching me squirm.

The blasts kept coming, each one closer and hotter than before. All around me, the buildings burned, the flames dancing across my vision, the smoke swirling into the night sky. It occurred to me suddenly that maybe Megatron was trying to drive me into them, so that I would die in the inferno along with the Autobots. The sword was still swinging underneath me uselessly, and I was thinking that I should just get rid of the fragging thing, when Megatron stopped firing and transformed.

He transformed.

I stopped moving and stared, dumbfounded. Since when could he transform?

I got only a half-second glimpse of a broad, white jet, the wings strong and folded like a bird's, the one cannon dangling on the shoulder, before he ignited his engine, and the next thing I knew, he had slammed into me, the nosecone jammed into my stomach and we were speeding away, the hot air rushing past me, the pain in my abdomen crippling. I gasped but there was nothing I could do to escape, no time to think, I was being pulled down a rushing tunnel of pain and fire and there was nothing I had, nothing. I was completely helpless.

And then the tunnel stopped, and the air stopped rushing and I was being slammed into something hard, my head, my back, my arms and legs slamming and scraping against a rough, hot surface with a force so powerful it could have been a thousand blows instead of just one. The static crackled across my vision, and I cried out with the pain that was everywhere, engulfing my whole body. But Megatron didn't stop; he didn't even slow down, and I felt myself being driven still further into the surface of the thing that had slammed into me, the thing that was now doing its best to crush itself against me.

In a flash I realized that Megatron had driven me into one of the buildings around the square, one of the ones that he had chosen to burn. My back was searing with the intense heat and I felt the hot air fold itself in little waves all around my face and neck. I was paralyzed with the pain, with the heat, and Megatron was driving me ever deeper into the face of the smoking ruin. The nosecone of the jet was still jamming into my stomach, and I felt another stream of oil well up in my throat, threatening to choke me. I swallowed it down, and my body seized up with the pain.

And that was when I realized the sword was still in my hand. I stared at it, cringing with the pain. How had I managed to hold onto it? No matter. I couldn't waste this chance.

I gritted my teeth and raised the sword up above his wing, trying to move as little as possible. Megatron apparently took no notice. I knew I couldn't waste any time. My vision was starting to go black as I raised the sword into the air and brought it plunging down.

I wasn't really aiming for any particular spot, but I felt a crunch and screech of metal that I knew meant that the blade had hit its mark. I looked down and saw that the sword was now embedded deep into the base of Megatron's right wing. Megatron cried out with pain and fury and increased his speed, slamming me still further into the side of the building. I reached out, took a hold of the sword with both hands, and, closing my eyes so I wouldn't see, a dragged the blade through his wing, tearing it as I went, and ground it deep into the side of his chest before yanking it out.

Megatron screamed and raised up his shoulder cannon. It was pointing directly at my face, and I could actually see the purple light growing brighter within when I felt something small and hard rain down on my head.

I looked up. Above me the roof of the building was swaying dangerously. The fire had climbed up, all the way to the top floor, and now it had burst through the roof. As I watched, one of the corners crumbled outward and fell, dragging the skeletal frame and metallic rubble down with it. Screams resounded from down below, who was screaming or where they were, I couldn't see. All around us glass was shattering from the heat and sparks were flying up everywhere from the broken metal scraping against itself. One of the supporting beams directly above us shifted in its cradle on the roof, and I felt another rain of hard metal.

And then I felt the wall behind shift as well.

I tried to tell him. We only had seconds. "Brother…" I choked. "The building… is collapsing…"

Megatron shuddered with fury and the pain in my stomach became more pronounced. I could see why. He had finally gotten me right where he wanted me, and now we were both in danger. How inconvenient.

"Then you will die here!" he snarled. With a whirring click, an arm extended from the side of the jet and shot out towards me. The jet shifted its position as he reached for me and closed his hand tightly around my throat. He tightened his grip, crushing my neck painfully. I felt myself slipping; everything was starting to seem hazy, far away. As if from the far end of a tunnel, I felt the building shake again, and a series of hot embers cascaded down on top of my head. Whatever was going to happen next, I didn't want to see it. I closed my eyes.

The next few seconds were all a blur to me. There was a creak from above; actually, it was more like a scream. The building shuddered and there were clanks and scraping sounds all around as the building dismantled itself, piece by piece, and the debris landed all over the pavement. Suddenly, I felt Megatron start back from the wall, as if in panic, dragging me with him. For less than a second, I was held dangling in the hot air, only connected to the world through the growing pain in my neck.

And then something slammed into both of us and we went plummeting toward the ground.

The debris had caught us. The fire had eaten away at all of the building, and the whole thing was coming down, right on top of our heads. I felt Megatron release me, but I was aware of nothing else but the roaring speed of our fall and the darkness closing in on me. I tried to open my eyes, but they felt so heavy, and I felt myself slipping deeper into myself. It was so strange; instead of falling down, I suddenly seemed to be rising up…

My eyes flew open. A dream? No. It was the same night, the same burning night. The same fire, the same pillars of smoke rising up to choke the starry sky. The building, though, was no longer there. Actually, it was everywhere. I was lying in it. It had taken the final collapse, and now its smoldering wreckage was everywhere. Hot steam and black smoke rose from the faintly glowing ruins.

I sat up and groaned. Primus, was I sore. I put my hand to my throat. It was dented, but otherwise seemed undamaged. I looked around. I was back in the square. The blackened, half-corroded skeleton of the building stood in front of me. I stared up at the ruin, looking for the spot where we had been. It looked like it was far up, maybe over a hundred feet in the air. My head throbbed violently, and I put my hand to it. I must have passed out in the middle of the fall. It was a wonder I wasn't dead, let alone still able to move.

Suddenly, my mind became lucid, and I remembered why I was here in the first place. Megatron. Where was Megatron? I looked around wildly, casting my gaze over each bit of rubble. I couldn't see him anywhere. Was it possible that he-?

Then, about twenty feet away from me, there was a shift in the wreckage. I looked over, my eyes wide. The rubble moved again. I got a glimpse of something white…

Like a sleepwalker, I rose to my feet, keeping my eyes on that spot. I stumbled over the chunks of debris in my way, not remembering that I could fly over them, not caring to remember anything. Just then, my foot collided with a piece of metal, but not one like the others strewn all over the square. This felt long and sharp. I looked down. It was the sword. The Sword, the one I had been carrying, the one I had lugged all the way into the sky. What were the odds that it would land here? I didn't care. I picked it up and continued on my way.

I walked closer and closer, each step bringing the white metal a little clearer into focus. What had earlier simply looked like white blocks over the backdrop of my vision now revealed itself in shapes, there a hand, there a leg, there a shattered wing. It looked almost as though he had been strewn to pieces, parts of his body littering the ground. But no, he was still whole, his parts all connected to each other, though torn and damaged. The rubble from the building was lying on top of him, covering him like a blanket. He moved again, only slightly. Maybe the weight was pinning him down. I kept moving.

Then I was right next to him, looking down at his form. His optics were closed, and his mouth was clenched; he appeared to be concentrating on something. I realized he wasn't fully conscious. I gripped the sword in my hand and raised it up…

His eyes flew open.

I froze where I was and gazed down at him blankly. His eyes immediately flicked up to me, to the sword in my raised hand. His gaze travelled from my hand and rested on my eyes, and his own widened in fear. But the terror passed from him quickly. His face hardened again, and he glared at me with hatred.

"Well?" he demanded, his voice a snarl. "Do it! Finish me!"

Yes. Finish him. It was what I had come to do. I raised the sword even higher, letting it flicker against the smoky night, before I brought it plunging down.

And then I heard a voice:

"Brother! Brother!"

"Brother, I'm right here."

I went rigid. My hand clenched the sword handle so tightly I could feel dents forming against the metal plating. I began to shake, and the shaking was so bad I almost dropped the sword. I couldn't see; the world around me was fading.

That voice. It hadn't been Megatron calling me. No, Megatron was still lying on the ground, completely silent, no doubt staring up at me, bewildered. No, it wasn't Megatron.

It was Metalwing.

Metalwing. My Metalwing. Metalwing as a child, Metalwing as I remembered him, that Metalwing had called my name. His face swam before my eyes. His laughter sounded in my ears. Metalwing was everywhere. A thousand images were playing through my head, and all of them centered on Metalwing.

"Brother, here I am!" "Brother, what took you so long?" "Brother, what's wrong with him?" "Dead?" "What's that?" "What's that mean, Brother?"

"Brother, what are parents for?"

But this wasn't possible. Megatron was right there, right in front of me, and he wasn't saying a word. But there he was, there was his voice in my head, and it wouldn't stop. For one desperate second, I thought that I had lost my mind. I was crazy; that had to be it. I must have hit my head too hard, hit something loose…

But no. I knew the real reason. I knew why this was happening, why I couldn't stop hearing him, why I couldn't stop seeing my little brother everywhere I looked…

I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him. Even now, when he was an adult, a murderer, I still couldn't do it. I had been trying so hard to convince myself that this person wasn't Metalwing anymore, that it was Megatron, that my brother was gone, gone forever, and all I could do for him was avenge him, kill this person who had caused his death…

But I had only been deluding myself. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't fully separate my brother from this person lying before me with red, hateful eyes and his hands stained with murder. Because no matter how much he had changed, even though he had thrown away his past, his morals, and even his name, he was still Metalwing. He was still my brother. Metalwing and Megatron were the same being, and if I killed Megatron, then Metalwing would die with him. Another image flashed through my mind, but this one had nothing to do with Metalwing. It was my own father striking me across the face, knocking me sideways onto the ground. No! I dropped to my knees, still shivering madly with despair clutching at my spark. I couldn't become that. I wouldn't. I could not kill Megatron.

I would not kill him.

Slowly, I lowered the sword to the ground. My whole body continued to shudder. I felt another sob tear its way up my throat, choking me as it went. I kneeled there, limply, letting the pain of my body and my spark be felt at last. It was nothing anymore. I could bear it.

Megatron stared at me, apparently lost for words. He seemed unable to believe what he had just seen. Then, slowly, his face broadened into a crazed smirk. His eyes lit up, and the dancing of the fire was caught in them. He began to chuckle, then to cackle, and then he closed his eyes and laughed at the burning sky. The sound of it stilled my shuddering but darkened my vision even more.

"So!" he exclaimed, through his laughter. He opened his eyes and leered at me triumphantly. "So, this is it, is it? This is what you've come to? You fight and give everything that you have, but when the moment comes to deliver the final blow, you just can't do it. How typical of you."

I kept my eyes down. Every nerve in my body was wailing at me, moaning with pain. The smoke billowed up in the black and red sky.

"I should have known," he purred. "I should have known that you wouldn't be able to do it. You were all talk, but when the time came…" He laughed again. "And here I thought you were actually a threat! But, no. You haven't changed at all, have you Brother?" His eyes narrowed. "You're still the same coward that you've always been."

I didn't answer him. There was nothing to say.

I heard a shifting of rubble, and I knew that he was getting up. I didn't react. There was only one way that the night could end.

There was a scraping on the ruined ground as Megatron retrieved his sword. Then I sensed him approaching me. When I heard his voice again, it was closer than it was before.

"So, my brother?" he hissed. "Is this the end for you? Have you truly given up?"

"Yes," I murmured. I closed my eyes, waiting for it. "Yes I have."

But it didn't come. Instead, I heard him chuckle. "As I thought," he purred. I opened my eyes again, confused. Why wasn't he finishing me off?

"It's just as well, I suppose," he went on. I raised my head to look up at him. He was bending near me, his face inches from mine. He was grinning at me, a sword in each hand. "If you will not finish this fight... Then I will!"

I screamed, more out of surprise than anything else. Not because of what he had said, that meant nothing to me, but because I felt a new flash of pain sear across my stomach that heightened and sharpened the old. I looked down. A second slash had been drawn over the first, leaving a gaping X over my abdomen. The pain was crippling; I felt nauseated from the fire of it, the smell of my own oil. I looked up at Megatron, horrified. How had he moved so quickly? I hadn't even seen him draw his sword.

I caught just one second, one still-image, of Megatron, crouched slightly, his left arm drawn before him, the blade freshly wet with black. What struck me the most, more than any amount of spilled oil or weapons ever could, was the expression on his face. He was smiling at me; the curve of his mouth was gentle. But his eyes, there was mad gleam there. In the red glass all of Cybertron burned.

That was all, the last image I received, before I flew backward, an iron, throbbing pain in my chest. I landed a few yards away, sliding across the hot, filthy ground. I gasped briefly, and then looked up at him. I would look at him, the entire time he was killing me. I had decided that just then. I may have surrendered, and I may have been willing to die quietly without protest, but I would not look away. The last thing my brother would see of me alive would be the light slowly dying from my eyes.

Even now, I would not abandon him.

Across the square, highlighted by the smoke and fire, stood Megatron, the leader of the Decepticons, the murderer of the streets, the one who had set the world aflame. He stood staring at me for just one more moment before he rushed toward me and began the process of killing me.

It's a little ironic. Dying wasn't so bad. That part was easy. Emotionally, it was hard, but physically, it was the easiest thing I've ever done. Letting go of my body, flying upward into nothingness, leaving all of the pain behind, there was nothing difficult or painful about it. I simply fell away, with no effort at all.

It was the process of actually being killed that was the hell. It was… It was excruciating, and it took far longer than I would have liked. I think he was trying to make absolutely sure he had beaten me because he absolutely destroyed me. And I let him. But there was at least one promise I did keep. I kept my eyes open the entire time. The whole time I was being broken, never once did I look away from him. That much, that one small thing, I was able to do.

But, honestly, it's a little strange. Even though I kept looking at him, I wasn't really thinking about what was happening to me that much. For whatever reason, my thoughts were elsewhere, pulling and tugging me around in a jumble. Maybe it was that I was too badly damaged and could no longer think coherently. Or maybe, after suffering so much trauma, my mind was just trying to escape. But I've often heard that your life is supposed to flash before your eyes before you die. I think that that might have been it.

At any rate, I wasn't thinking of the fight, if you could even call it that anymore. My mind was lost in my past. Actually…

Mostly… I just thought about my mother.

Mother. Mother. I never wanted to see you again. I hated you for what you did to us. You and Father made Metalwing grow up without parents. I hated you every single day of my life. I never wanted to believe the reason you left. I refused to believe it.

There are so many things I refused to believe.

Mother. Is this what you saw? Did you foresee my death? Is that why you left? Is that why you wouldn't stop crying? They called my mother a freak. A witch. She never liked sleeping. She had bad dreams. Maybe this was the worst dream of all.

Metalwing, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I failed you. I swore I would always stay by your side. And I failed you. And now all of Cybertron will burn because of me. Because of us. I can see it now. A world engulfed in flames. And at the center of it all is my Metalwing. The worst dream of all.

Please. Someone. Anyone. Don't let this be our future. Please… Stop him. Don't let him keep killing. Somebody. Anybody. I don't care who. Save him. Save Cybertron. Please undo the damage I've done. Succeed where I have failed. And stop him.

I've been selfish up until now. I've been bitter and filled with hate. But now, at the end, the only thing I ask is for someone to stop him.

The world won't remember me. A miserable Street Cleaner who failed. And I don't care about that. If they forget me that's fine. What they need to remember is a hero. And I am no hero. But you… whoever you are… Can you be?

Metalwing kicked me across the square after who knows how much time had passed. I hit something, a curb, a piece of rubble. Maybe it was my own leg. Whatever it was, I flipped over it and landed on my front, supporting myself with my hands and knees. I felt myself slipping, sliding, trying to hold myself up while kneeling in a pool of my own motor oil. It felt too hot and too cold and too close. It hurt; it hurt so much. But now, strangely, it was hurting less and less.

My thoughts were jumbling wildly now. I knew I didn't have long. I felt his shadow fall over me. Fear clutched at my spark. No matter how close to death you are, some part of you will always still fear it. But the pang died away just as quickly as it struck. I didn't have much energy for fear anymore.

Once more, I felt his hand close around my scarred throat. This time, I didn't fight it. My optic, the one that was still working, locked onto his face. I won't leave you. Even at the very end, not for an instant will I leave you.

He slammed me against a wall, leering triumphantly over me. Now, here it was. The end. Should I say goodbye? At any other time, I might have laughed out loud. What exactly was good about it? But I felt I should say something. Maybe it was because my mind was so unhinged, so damaged now. Maybe it was insanity playing a factor on my thoughts. But I felt, somehow, it would be wrong to die silently. To sleep forever without so much as a farewell. Ah, but could I even do it? My voice had taken a lot of damage. He's raising his hand. The moment's fading! Quick! Say something!

Then, before I could even comprehend it, my lips were moving. My voice crawled out. I said something.

What did I say?

I honestly don't know. My audio receptors must've been even more fragged than I thought. I didn't hear what I said. I couldn't. I felt the words leave my mouth. But what were they? They poured forth from my brain, from the depths of my thoughts, my memories, but I did not know them. They had simply skipped over my mind and flowed out of my throat, like a current. Like a stream. I might have said nothing at all, for all I know. It might have been a flow of nonsense.

But whatever I said, he heard. I saw his eyes widen, change. They were eyes of horror, as if now, for the first time, he realized what he'd done. Ah, there you are. My Metalwing. I'd heard you, but now I'm seeing you again. You were there all along. My brother.

I think I smiled.

Then my spark was in his hand, and I fell away into oblivion.

Megatron stepped back from the wall and relaxed his hands. His brother's shattered spark chamber fell out of one as the corpse clattered to the ground. Megatron looked at the lifeless, rapidly graying husk. Of course, he had killed many, many times before. But it had never been this difficult. Never had an opponent been so hard to kill. He stared at his brother's body, as if transfixed. Even now, in death, the optics were still open. He had the strange feeling, the clawing, suffocating feeling that those eyes were watching him still.

His brother's voice was ringing in his ears. He continued to stare as a torturous, ice-cold feeling engulfed his spark. He had killed many times before. Kill anyone who stands in the way.

Suddenly, he realized he was trembling.

Horrified, he stared at his trembling hands, his shaking arms. He shook all over. It wouldn't stop. "No," he said to himself, to his own shaking limbs. "No!" It was spreading throughout his body; he felt sick to his stomach. He clenched his fists in front of himself, trying to still his rebelling self. "NO!" he commanded, perhaps louder than he'd meant.

Slowly, his body stilled. He felt his vents breathing, passing the air in and out. "No," he whispered one final time, and the trembling stopped altogether. He stood up straight, and any who could've seen his gaze would have seen nothing but stone and darkness in his eyes.

Gradually, from the edges of the square, the three he had had with him before stepped out of the shadows, a little hesitant and apprehensive. Though they had been afraid to intervene, even when it looked like he had been defeated, they had not left their master's side for a moment. And now, fearfully, eagerly, they stepped towards him.

They were around him in a moment. None of them knew what to say. It was the femme who spoke up first. "Megatron, sir?" she asked, her voice a little unsteady. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he answered, without hesitating. "Yes, I am alright."

"You're wounded!" she said, seeming heart-broken by the very idea. She reached out a hand to him. "Do you need any-?"

"No!" he shouted, cutting her off. He jerked away from her. The femme caught a glimpse of the glare in the crimson optics and felt a shock run through her, so murderous was his gaze. She took a step back, her arm across her chest. Seeing her reaction, Megatron's face softened. "I'm fine, thank you," he said cordially. "Don't worry about me." He turned away from her and began moving his shoulder joint with his other hand. He felt that a piece of debris had lodged itself there. He moved the shoulder in a circular motion, feeling it roll in its socket.

"Man, Megatron," said one of the mechs on the other side of him. "You completely destroyed that guy!" He laughed, a nervous, yet exhilarated laugh. "Just goes to show what happens when you mess with Megatron."

"Hmm," said Megatron noncommittally.

"I still can't believe that guy was your brother!" chimed in the other mech. "No one else is going to believe what we saw tonight!"

Megatron's hand stopped on his shoulder. "Eh?"

The mech had turned away and was talking to his companion. "And what was he calling him? Metalwing was it?"

"Yeah. Weird!"

"Wait until we tell everyone about this!"

"No one's going to tell anything."

The two stopped and looked up. The femme looked on, too, still trembling. "Sorry?" the first one asked. "Should we keep it a secret?"

"No one's going to tell anyone anything," Megatron repeated. "Here's why."

And he whirled around, and with a chorus of screams and screeches of metal he struck all three down dead.