Don't own. You can pick who the character is. I apologize for any mistakes or random letters that don't belong. I'm using a tablet, and the thing is a pain to write with.

A Time Long Gone

You never really get used to it, you know. The sight of a burning city. Or the smell...

I don't even know this one's name. They've all kind of blurred together. That's bad, I get that, but it's easier not knowing. The guilt doesn't settle in my tanks the same way.

Fliers are soaring overhead. Probably looking for survivors. I haven't found any so far, not for lack of trying, though.

I wonder if we'll find anyone. I want to ask what this place was called. I want to know what it was like to live here.

I wonder if anyone can remember what it was like to live in an apartment in place of barracks. And a job that didn't include killing. A family...

I was basically a hacker for a company. Got paid pretty well, enough to live in a decent neighborhood of a small town a couple hundred klicks outside Iacon. Couple of my friends tried to convince me to move into the city, but I didn't really want to. Working there was enough.

I had split-sparked a sparkling, a little mech. Good kid. Hardly ever cried, always smiled. He was a little daredevil, though. He'd give me a near Spark-attack every other solar-cycle, jumping off things or climbing on something. Of course, I was like that with my Creators, too.

They weren't too keen on me split-Sparking. Thought it was sacrilegious, or something. They never spent much time with him, which slagged me the frag off. He asked me once why Grandsire and Grandcarrier didn't like him. Broke my Spark. Didn't know what to tell him.

They're gone now, all three of them. The one time my Creators wanted to spend time with my sparkling, the city they're visiting was attacked. No survivors. I had to identify their bodies. I'll never forget that, or forgive.

I hear...something. What...? It sounds like...crying. I call out, hoping someone answers. They do.

"Help!" I run over to a collapsed building, one story. No idea what it is. Don't care. I move debris out of my way, my mouth going nonstop, trying to get the bot to answer again. I can hear crying still. When I finally reach them, I freeze.

It's a mech youngling, clutching a slightly older mech's arm. He looks up, tears streaming.

"Dropshock won't wake up." My Spark breaks for him. I open my arms, trying to smile reassuringly.

"C'mere. It's okay, now." Even though it isn't. He still comes to me, though, burying his face in my chest plates. I stand up, moving a little ways from the body, and radio in. The guy tells me to stay put. No slag.

"What's your name, little one?"

"Wasp." His voice is muffled.

"Well, Wasp, don't worry. Other mechs are coming to help, okay?"

"'Kay." He looks up at me. "Dropshock's dead, isn't he? I can't feel him anymore." I sigh, shifting him a little and looking away.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" It comes out as a whisper. I know he's not asking why I'm sorry.

"I don't know."

The team finally gets there after a few minutes. They try to take the youngling from me, but he refuses to let go. I end up having to go back with them. He clings to me even when the medic tries to look him over.

"You have to let go, Wasp." He shakes his head, pulling his arm back when I try to pry it off my neck. Eventually, we give up.

"The kid seems to be fine. Physically, at least. A little dirty, but that can wait. He needs recharge." The medic steps closer, lowering his voice. "Take him to the base shrink when he finally lets go, okay? I'm placing him in your care," he says, stepping back and speaking normally. "You were a Creator before, right?"

"Yeah..." The medic gets a sad look for a second, then heads off to another patient. "Alright, little one. You heard the mech." I carry him to a quiet corner of the barracks and lay down. It's easier than trying trying to pry him off again.

He tucks himself in my side, little arms wrapped around as much of my waist as possible. His breathing slows down. I think he's fallen asleep when he speaks suddenly.

"You never told me yours," he says, quietly. It takes me a minute to figure out what he's talking about.

"I'm...Que." It's not my real one, of course. I'm not allowed to tell anyone what it really is. Besides, it'd be best if the kid forgot about me. He'd be safer.

"I like that name." It's the last thing he whispers before falling into recharge. I gently run my thumb over his cheek. Don't get attached, mech...

"I hate it," I whisper back, even if he can't hear it. It takes a while, but I finally slip in recharge too, dreaming of my sparkling, my Creators, my old life. A time so long gone I'd almost forgotten.