One Last Fight

The day had come.

Two years of preparing, planning, and putting everything together was now at its climax. The Machine was done, fully repaired. We were ready to change back. Everyone was in high spirits; the end had finally come. I looked to my fellow Autobots as we gathered are alt modes, prepared them in the circle as Dr. Tully began to check the data that was loaded into the Machine's system. I can't explain the feeling that was coming off of them all. There were so many different emotions, all merging into one wave of sentiment. Even the timid Tully was smiling, and slowly bit by bit would talk with the others while being addressed. Over the week, after my proclamation, the other Autobots had slowly warmed up to him, and I believe that I, too, was getting the same feelings that the others were sharing with the doctor.

"Joe, how long we got?" Bumblebee asked, gaining the other's attention at his sudden question. I looked away from Ratchet as he looked, too.

"It needs a few hours to load. There's a lot of data it needs to pull up again. Once it's loaded, it'll be ready to use." He paused. "We only have one shot, though. If something were to go wrong . . ." Jazz reached out and placed a hand on the man's shoulder, nodding once, lifting his black shades to look at him directly. "I doubt anything could go wrong with you right here to fix it all. You've got this." The confidence that flowed off of the silver-haired Autobot seemed to flow through us all. We were ready to change back. Ready to feel normal again. And we had all of the support to do it. Coming from not only us, but our human comrades that stood by, waiting with us. Major Lennox and Sergeant Epps were there, ready to see what they had missed before. A number of different N.E.S.T. members were standing by, waiting for their chance to help, if they needed to. A feeling of peace passed over them, and they began to relax once more, all of their postures becoming more and more casual as they got engrossed in their conversations.

Yet I could not relax. A feeling of dread only grew as time passed. I found myself looking frequently at the surrounding buildings. While the others might have seen the coming sunset as a sign of an end to a dragged-out nightmare, I took it as something far more foreboding. I knew there was no way Megatron would stand idly by. He must have known what we were doing now. He had known everything else. There was a small part of my mind that attempted to have me disregard it, arguing that if he had known of our plans, he would have stopped us before Dr. Tully had finished the Machine. But perhaps he did not know that the man was finished? Would he try to stop us today, or would he come too late, as I so desperately hoped?

A part of me wanted him to show up. To be Changed back as well, so I could finish him, like I should have so many different times in the past. But if he were to appear, I felt like we would be able to fight them off . . . we had no other choice.

Time passed slowly. What felt like hours wasn't even a full half of an hour. We were all getting restless; and had become unsure how we would be able to wait the little time we had left before we could become ourselves again. It'd grown silent, there didn't seem like there was much left to talk about. Before long, without the conversation to pass it, time was moving even slower, and the silence was heavier. It was why we all jumped when suddenly a call came in, making all of our heads turn. Lennox was the first to get to the radio, and he placed it to his ear. We all watched in silence, wondering what it could be about, our attention drawn to any sign that could mean a change of the current events. After a few minutes, Lennox hung up, and turned to me.

"There's trouble. A riot has started up across the state. We're being called to settle it, because we're the closest forces at hand, and they fear if they try to send someone else things will have gotten even more out of hand." The Major explained. I paused, before asking, "Shall we come with you?"

"No. It'll take hours at least to get everything settled again. It's not worth you guys waiting another two years just to help us out. This is human stuff. I'm pretty sure you can handle anything that's going to be thrown at you." After patting my shoulder comfortingly, Lennox turned, rounded up the N.E.S.T. team that was standing by, and with Epps left. And then we were alone, just Doctor Tully and ourselves. The ominous feeling that I'd had before was beginning to fade away. Earlier that day it had felt like a sharp stone in my shoe, and now it was just a smooth stone; there, yet not quite as noticeable.

I was left to revel in my thoughts, and I let my mind drift further and further from the rest, not really interested in conversation. The ugly truth was that I was still unsure what I would have wanted to say, or what I would want to talk about. Before long, another hand was placed on my shoulder, bringing me back. Ratchet nodded at me, before uttering two words that would begin the event we had been waiting for during those two long years. "It's time."

I walked with him around my truck, and looked at the fountain that started it all. Tully was crouched near it, an open control panel from the back in front of him, the bottom flipped open on his lap, revealing that it was a keypad. He was furiously typing away, and when I asked him what he was doing, he answered that it was simply just the last adjustments, nothing more. I nodded in response, before walking to stand with the other Autobots. They, too, were looking at the fountain. It was restored; the damage that Smokescreen had caused gone, as though it had never happened in the first place. Looking at the water spout through, the clever camouflage doing its work, I again felt that dark anticipation, that need to react, to be ready. My hand moved to my side, familiarly stroking my gun, even if it gave me little solace. I was listening to Tully's fingers on the keypad, letting that drone away the anxious thoughts that were passing through my mind, and when they stopped, I knew that the Machine really was, at last, ready.

"Okay . . . All I have to do is flip the switch, and then we'll be ready to go." The young doctor said, his fingers reaching for a red switch beside the screen he had been staring at. My eyes followed him, unaware of what would pass within the next few seconds, the feeling of dread that had so heavily weighed on my mind finally being justified. When the familiar voice rang out, I knew . . . I knew that our struggles were long from over.

"I should have known he was with you, Optimus Prime. The boy may be a coward, but you have ways of getting to humans' hearts, of persuading them to be your ever-supportive pets." Megatron spat the word, and I turned to face him, our optics meeting. His red gaze was alight, already gleaming, as though he could taste the victory, that there would be no real fight for him to face. Around him his Decepticons waited, their own faces plastered with victorious smiles, triumph that had been counted before the fight even began.

"Megatron," I began, "you can't stop us now."

"Oh? What makes you believe that, Prime?" Megatron barked back, his blood-red eyes turning a darker color, his face taking on a sinister expression.

"If you really wanted to stop us, if you wanted to make sure we could not figure out a way to Change back, instead of killing off the officers, you would have just destroyed the Machine." I bellowed back, my tones definite.

"That was the original plan, Prime. This is the new one."

He moved about as fast as I could react. He raised his pistol, his dark eyes gleaming with bloodlust, the single shot ringing through, making all of us start. I surged forward, drawing my own pistol, the single surprised cry that fell from the lips signifying who his target was. I didn't turn around; I knew what was behind me. I focused on firing upon Megatron, my eyes narrowing as his body was blown back by the hits I made, then widening in horror as instead of falling, he kept advancing, his face now angry, furious. I ran up the hill, up the road toward him, and he stiffened, ready to receive me.

Behind me, I could hear Ratchet's voice. "Give me your shirt! No, I need cloth! Something! We need to stop the slagging bleeding!" I wanted to turn, to see what was going on, but now Megatron was within a foot of me, and I had no time. His Decepticons surged forward, passing us, their eyes on the Autobots that were standing ready. The Decepticon commander swung the butt of his gun at me, and I reached up and caught his wrist, stopping the blow mere inches away from my temple. I took my now empty gun and tried hitting him with it, too, and he caught my other arm, throwing us into a stalemate. His strength pressed against mine, yet this time, there were no drugs to leave me weak, disoriented. I was ready this time, ready to fight against him tooth and nail, toe to toe.

"You're a fool, Prime. You knew I wouldn't let you get away with any of your schemes. Yet you still instilled hope into your Autobots, desperate to get what you once had!"

"Your own schemes are foolish, Megatron!" I spat back. "There isn't anything you can do that'll leave you commanding them . . . they'll never accept you as their leader."

"Why have them accept me? I'll be their first dictator! I'll thrust my laws upon them! I'll watch their world burn underneath my influence! And when I'm done, Earth will finally be mine to rule! And their ruin would have come from hands that are exactly like theirs!"

"You've fallen, Megatron. Fallen even further than before your Change." I declared.

"No! I've risen!" Megatron forced his strength on me then, pressing with every last bit that he had in his arms, beginning to force me back. I gritted my teeth before jumping back, dodging a bullet he slung at me, before throwing his gun away. Together we drew our next choice of weaponry, swords sheathed for our own use. I felt that same feeling that I always got while fighting him in my gut, and I surged forward, aiming for his legs, sweeping, needing to bring him off his feet as soon as possible.

He blocked, and countered, swirling around on his feet to swing at my shoulder. I brought my sword up, and knocked his blade out of the way, before charging forward and tackling him, driving my shoulder into his gut. Together we fell, down the make-shift street, tilted at an angle, a painful hill, and I scrunched my eyes shut as we hit the hard asphalt, groaning as we rolled, my sword skittering out of my hand. Megatron had lost his blade; too, it slid far out of his reach. I heard the crack as his head hit the asphalt, before we were both brought to an abrupt stop. For a moment I lay there, beside him, unable to move, grateful that he, too, was still. I was dazed, my heartbeat pounding in my ears, my throat, my chest. The world had seemed to slow down; everything moved at a much slower pace. A sharp pain in the back of my head that I knew all too well made me aware that he wasn't the only one that had hit his head on the way down.

". . . Op . . . ti . . . mus . . ."

The three syllables of my name rang in my ears. Each one was stretched out, laced with pain, the tones shaky. I moved my head to the best of my ability, looking for the source, unsure of where it really could have come from. Again, I heard it, and my eyes focused on the meek, huddled form of Doctor Joseph Tully.

". . . Op . . . ti . . . mus . . ."

The sight was not one that I ever wish to see again, nor is it a sight that I can ever forget. The young man was huddled around the damaged screen that had been behind him. Both the front of his shirt and the fractured screen was covered in cherry-red blood, and the ground around him was growing the same color. The red body fluid was seeping from his mouth, and it was open, trying to say my name again. Painfully I rolled onto my stomach, and looked toward Megatron. He had yet to stir. In my disorientation, I felt as though he were defeated, and moved forward toward Tully, my optics looking over his crumpling form. My limbs were sore, bruised; every bit of movement I made instigated further pain. I got up, however, and made it to him, my hand resting on his shoulder. His shaking hands were loosening their grip on the shirt that was wrapped tightly around his middle, stained entirely with the seeping red blood that was further pouring out of his body. I took my hand off of his shoulder and placed both of them overtop his, my brow furrowing as I instructed, "Keep the pressure, Tully . . ."

His hands were shaking underneath mine, but he looked toward me, swallowing, and the corners of his mouth for just a moment turning up. "I tried . . . But . . ." He shook his head. "I . . . I think . . ."

"You do not have to speak." I said, and he shook his head again. "I . . . you don't have to apply pressure, not anymore, Optimus. I . . . I did good, right?"

"Yes." I answered softly, nodding once. "You have done well."

"That's . . . that's all I needed to know . . . Optimus . . . ?"

"Yes?"

"I'm . . . I'm not . . . afraid . . . anymore . . ." He smiled again, but it quickly faded, his eyes widened, and more blood flowed out of the corners of his mouth. His hands grew limp underneath mine, and I bowed my head as he was still, and any light that had been left in his eyes was gone. I lifted my now-bloodied hands off of his abdomen, and closed his open lids, before a voice drew my attention again.

"See, Prime? You're like me. Destruction follows you wherever you go, even after you claim that you're only good. The only difference between us is you're a fool, and I will soon rule, while you'll be in the ground, just like our departed Doctor Joseph Tully."

"He has yet to be in the ground, Megatron." I said, turning to look at him. He'd gotten up on his knees, and was rising. I stood to my feet as he did, my gaze growing dark. "And I swear you'll pay, for his death, and all of the Cybertronians you have caused grief!"

I surged forward, grabbing my sword off of the ground, and leapt toward him, my swings angry. I had promised to protect Tully, and I had failed. I had failed all of my Autobots, the screen was destroyed, the Machine wouldn't work . . . It would not be turning any of us back today. The least I could do . . . was punishing the only other spark that was responsible for this failure. Megatron was waiting, he, too, had retrieved his sword, and was ready to meet me in battle. But little did he understand my anguish; little did he understand the true emotion that was bursting out of my spark, the built-up emotion that he had thrust upon me. He was no match for me, not anymore.

Our swords clashed, and his eyes widened as he felt the strength in my swing. Megatron took a step back to rebalance himself, and I moved forward, not even allowing him to have any time to regroup. I knocked the sword out of his hand, twisting the hilt with the tip of my sword, disarming him. On a whim I tossed it away, angry; I would keep things even . . . by beating him down with my own two hands, not aided by any weapon. He tried to put his arms up to block, and I knocked them out of the way, and swung both of my fists. The first swing struck across his cheek, the second hit his nose, and after that I lost track. Blow after blow after blow, until he was bloodied, and I couldn't see his face through the red haze that had appeared over my eyes.

I was unaware that the fight between Decepticons and Autobots had stopped around me, and they were staring, disbelieving what was unfolding in front of their eyes. It was so out of character, no one could believe the anguish, the anger that was exuding off of me with every passing second. Suddenly I felt hands on my shoulder, someone pulling me off of Megatron. "Optimus!" Ratchet's voice. "Optimus, I . . . I think he's dead."

The red haze disappeared. I blinked, looking down away from Ratchet's face to look back at Megatron. His face was unrecognizable, and he was bleeding from multiple wounds, not only on his face, but his neck, his shoulders, and even his chest. What wasn't cut was already beginning to bruise. Decepticons and Autobots alike were standing side by side, forgetting their factions for a moment to stare at the unmoving leader. It wasn't until Ratchet moved forward did anyone stir. My medical officer placed two fingers on the side of the man's neck, before looking at me and shaking his head. "You . . . killed him, Optimus.

"He's dead."

I moved forward, but suddenly the Decepticons stepped in front of me. Starscream was the first, his red eyes full of a mixture of both shock and disbelief. "Don't touch him! He is our fallen commander."

A thin man stepped forward after him, his hands reaching toward Megatron. The Autobots looked at me, but I didn't move, instead just watched as they collected Megatron, and departed.

"Optimus . . . ?"

I can't remember who called me, I don't remember much of what followed after, except for a single question, and my answer.

"What do we do now?"

There was only a slight pause, as I tried to think . . . but nothing would go through my head.

"I . . . I don't know.

"I don't know."

-end ?-