Warning: Character Death
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Hound, Optimus Prime, Megatron
Summary: Have you ever wondered, what it means if a spark is the same as a soul? Most humans haven't asked themselves what this means. Not when an Autobot was abducted and tortured. Not even when the Autobots invited them to see and witness. After all, a spark is supposed to be eternal... but what is eternity with a damaged soul? An eternity in which you can't ever heal?
The one thing that every human would remember until the end of their life was the utter silence. Even though every Autobot on the planet was present, none of them moved or talked or smiled. As silent, giant statues, they surrounded a white empty platform and waited patiently. After the excitement, bitter accusations, and horror of the last few days, the scene was nearly otherworldly.
Only one camera team had been allowed and they stood a bit away, clearly apart as they filmed and broadcasted everything. In the beginning they had spoken too, but the words had withered to whispers and soon after, disappeared completely.
All that remained was the wind and the silence.
Then, finally, the door to the Ark, the crashed alien spaceship, opened and out came four Autobots. First was Optimus Prime, straight, with heavy steps and a stony face. Behind him followed two white and black bots, his second and third in command, but which of them held what rank, the humans never had been quite sure. What they knew were their designations Prowl and Jazz. All three bots were respected by the Autobots and yet not a single one turned or took their optics from the platform. Not a single one greeted them or moved.
The silence remained.
Between them, Prowl and Jazz carried a body, always following Prime's steps. The once forestgreen mech, now mostly grey from his protoform and black where he had been burnt, didn't move. Deep in stasis, he couldn't feel the many freshly repaired and patched injuries all over his body that had left him barely recognisable. It was a small mercy after months of torture.
The humans knew this bot, before and after. They had researched and seen the photos and still they felt horror as they zoomed in on the damaged mech.
Gently, he was laid on the platform and the two black and whites stepped back, behind their Prime who knelt. A small silvery-white cable left Optimus arm and connected to a port in the damaged mech's torso.
The cameras didn't miss a single moment. For this, they had come. This was what Optimus Prime had wanted humanity to see.
"Rise, Hound," commanded Optimus Prime in Cybertronian. His deep baritone voice carried effortlessly across the whole plain. "Rise, and awake to the world."
Hound's optics flickered and he opened them. "Prime..." he whispered and with the same breath of air began to scream. The camera team flinched, but the Autobots didn't move at all as the agonised shrieks left the silence in tatters.
"Hound," said the Prime. "You are safe. Your body is repaired."
The once scout didn't listen. In pain, he started to thrash around, hitting the floor, hitting the Prime, hitting himself. Optimus didn't even seem to feel the fists against his torso. Only when the hand formed claws and Hound forced them on his own face and breastplate, did he catch them in his own. But not before not long slashes in the protoform had been opened, out of which pink energon flowed.
"Hound," he repeated quietly with the tenderness of a soft plea. Then he hesitated for a moment before looking back over his shoulder. "It's your turn."
The black and whites stepped forward and Prime released Hound. Before the former scout could hurt himself again, Jazz had taken his hands and sat on his pelvis. With experienced movements, he put Hound's hands beneath his knees and pinned them there. Meanwhile, Prowl had knelt and connected to the same port as Prime previously. Jazz followed shortly with another port.
Minutes passed. Sometimes their optics or visor would flicker, but all that could be heard were Hound's screams of torment.
Suddenly Hound seemed to transform, his plates moved, falling inside, sliding apart, revealing a soft green light. Hound's screams turned into whimpers and Optimus Prime stepped forward. With sorrow-filled optics, the three bots looked at the uneven spark, which was covered in patches that ranged from dark green to black and in long thin scars that were nearly glowing white.
Optimus stepped back.
"The spark is damaged," he said in a heavy voice.
A ripple went through the crowd, then it stood still once again.
Despite not understanding the meaning behind the words, for the first time the humans felt uneasy. This had sounded like a sentence. But why would a victim be sentenced?
His two lieutenants looked up at him, waiting, knowing what had to come, what must come.
"Do as you've sworn to do," ordered Optimus Prime. "As is your duty."
The two black and whites nodded and stood. Slowly, the light patches of their paint job darkened, until there were two pitchblack mechs standing, one with ice-blue optics, the other with a matching visor.
The humans gasped in surprise. Never before had they witnessed a Cybertronian change their colours for anything but their altform. Sure, they had theorised that it was possible, but so far no one had seen it. Until now. Until the moment Prime's two lieutenants had done it and had changed... not only their colour, but also their demeanours had become colder.
Wordlessly and without any of the former care exhibited previously, Prowl and Jazz grabbed Hound, who was now just sobbing, optics blindly staring ahead, by his arms and hauled him to a previously unnoticed pole in the middle of the platform. On it, they fastened his hands above his head with quick and precise movements.
Suddenly, turbines disturbed the silence and something covered the sun.
"Decepticons!" cried the humans in shock, but no Autobot moved or looked up.
Shadows fell from the sky, creating small craters and rising from them as one. Decepticon Seeker or frontliner, triple changer or gestalt members, they had all come. But instead of attacking they joined the crowd of Autobots waiting in silence. Just as grim and serious and (dared they to say it?) sorrowful. Then, only one mech was still moving, the slag-maker himself, Megatron. He climbed on the platform and stood next to Prime.
"Continue," he said coldly.
Jazz and Prowl, who had stopped, nodded. Both unsubspaced an armlong blade, that within moments grew so hot that the very air around it was burning. Raising the energy daggers above their heads, they asked: "Do you witness?"
And as one mech, the crowd replied: "We witness."
Fluidly, the two black mech turned and stabbed the daggers into Hound's spark. The mech screamed – until he faltered and the green light faded. With the light went all the colour in the mech, until only grey was left. Brokenly the optics stared, but saw nothing anymore.
The humans had only been able to watch helplessly. A woman had put both hands over her mouth to stop herself from screaming and the men next to her had looked away in pain. Hound had been a gentle mech, a victim, so just why...?
The Cybertronians didn't seem to ask themself the question, as they hadn't moved an inch. The executioners removed their weapons and slowly closed the frame, giving Hound some dignity back .
Then, they turned to Optimus Prime who just nodded and looked at Megatron, who did the same. The warlord raised a hand and all the Decepticons joined the sky again, hovering, waiting for their leader.
Megatron meanwhile looked at his enemy, optics a blazing red: "This went too far. We have never accepted this and I will not start now. You know the humans have to die, Prime. Do not hesitate any longer."
With this warning, he took flight as well and disappeared with his Decepticons from the sky.
Optimus looked after them, grim. Behind him the Autobots finally began to move.
A bit away, clearly apart from the grieving Autobots, stood the humans, struggling to understand what they witnessed and with the dark feeling of a foreboding calamity.
The alien victim was dead, the human culprits still living and free.
This balance had to change to keep peace, to deliver justice...
Or take revenge.
After my computer crashed and took several story snippets and ideas with it, I've decided to upload those I love most.
This is the prologe to a longer story. I might return to it one day.