The Final Curtain

Shatter

The warehouse the humans had given us was passable. It was a far cry from my personal quarters in Kaon, but I had not expected much from these bestial primitives in the first instance. Myself and Dropkick had only used it for a quick recharge or partake of our dwindling supply of energon cubes.

This lunar cycle, two additional guests had made an appearance. Namely; the Autobot renegade B-127, and the human scientist designated Powell. The former was suspended from the rafters by a length of heavy duty steel chains, whilst the latter observed the proceedings from the catwalk next to me. The human was an afterthought, I would prefer him to be elsewhere, but he had been irritatingly insistent on examining the Autobot. What was that human saying about cats and curiosity?

Regardless, the entirety of my focus was centered on the little mech dangling in front of me. He was almost as small as Cliff Jumper, but didn't even put up half the fight. If I didn't know any better, I would have had him pegged as a youngling. No, something was definitely off here.

Dropkick had already assumed his traditional position as the physical part of the interrogation, leaving me to ask the questions and build a foundation of desperate trust with the prisoner. Had Blitzwing still been with us, he would have been the voice of reassurance, reinforcing my offers of mercy and leniency in exchange for information. It was a system that had worked well for us.

Without preamble, Dropkick clenched a servo and slammed it into the Autobot's spinal strut, causing the yellow mech to squeal out in static. In the back of my processor, I registered Powell's gasp of shock at the sudden act of brutality. Human, that mech is just getting warmed up.

"I hope we have your attention," I stated. B-127 refused to meet my gaze, so I chose to cross the rest of the distance. I stooped down to his diminutive height, "Tell us where Optimus Prime and rebels are hiding."

My digits cupped the underside of his helm, straying close to gaping rent where his vocal processor once rested, I lifted his helm so his azure optics would meet my crimson set, "And we can end this war."

I let his helm rest against his collar struts, a minute shift in my balance signaled my comrade to take his turn. Dropkick was quick on the uptake, grabbing the smaller mech by the collar and pulling him close to his sneering face, "Talk!"

"Who is Optimus Prime?" Powell cut in, rudely interrupting our carefully choreographed interrogation.

.:The human is interrupting us. Can I kill him now?:. -Dropkick

.:Optics on the prize comrade; if necessity allows it, you may dispose of him:. -Shatter

.:Gladly:. -Dropkick

"This does not concern you human-Powell," my agitation was bleeding through my vocal processor, no more of this 'friend' nonsense. I turned back to B-127, "Last chance."

Dropkick's knuckles punctuated my remark into the Autobot's abdominal structure, causing the plates to bow inward before snapping back, the Autobot gave no outward reaction to the stress the blow undoubtedly put on his tactile receptors.

I brushed my digital link against the surface of his firewalls.

.:This does not need to end with your offlining, I can help you:. - Shatter

.:Why should I listen to anything you say?:. -Bumblebee

I was momentarily surprised he had deigned to respond, and not in the way befitting a trained soldier ready to die for the cause much like that late lieutenant we bisected on Enceladus. But rather, someone willing to be reached.

.:Because I am your last chance. My comrade heeds my authority, but he will not be reigned in on a whim. I need you to give me something first:. -Shatter

I allowed my servo to caress the side of his helm, as I leaned mine closer to meet his optics once more. "After all," I whispered, tracing my fingers along a raised antenna, "It is only fair."

I heard Dropkick make a disgusted snort through his vents at my antics; let him watch. Touch could be a powerful tool, if used to the right degree.

.:I don't even know why I am here:. -Bumblebee

My browplates shifted upward slightly at the admission.

.:You are here because you are a criminal B-127:. -Shatter

.:My name is Bumblebee, and I have done nothing wrong:. -Bumblebee

.:An odd designation, how did you come by it?:. -Shatter

.:Friend: Charlie. Assigned it to me:. -Bumblebee

This had to be the most genial interrogation I've had in a hundred vorns; the mech was so awkward and vulnerable – it was like talking to a sparkling. At the mention of Charlie I reviewed my memory segments of B-127… Bumblebee's capture, and recalled the human femling that tried and failed to assist the incapacitated mech. Made sense, Autobots were often hopelessly enamored in the lives and troubles of beings lesser than them. Had they focused their flagging resources solely on their own interests, perhaps they would still have a foothold on Cybertron.

.:You care for her, don't you?:. -Shatter

.:Yes:. -Bumblebee

"Aren't you supposed to ask it questions?" Powell asked, appearing remarkably stupid for a creature claiming to posses a higher education.

.:Can I pop it now?:. -Dropkick

Taking a note out of humanity's book, I gave the irritating doctor the hand. Talk to that, meatbag.

After capturing a quick pict of the fleshling's flustered expression, I returned my attention to Bumblebee.

.:Human-Charlie is currently safe at home with her family unit. She suffered no serious physical consequences from your capture, and the human government holds no malice towards her for harboring you:. -Shatter

A small weight seemed to fall from the mech's shoulders.

.:I don't remember anything:. -Bumblebee

The words instantly caused my facial plates to tighten into a small frown. I quickly booted up the scanner, and focused in on the Autobot's memory cells. Immediately the scan identified several trauma points in his array. Battle damage.

Memory loss was not an uncommon malady in this war, I myself had the displeasure of being similarly incapacitated after a particularly brutal encounter with Ultra Magnus and Ironhide. Then there was that time Dropkick was mentally reverted to his youngling days; still have plenty of blackmail material from that one.

I'm getting off track.

Did he receive the damage during the last stand on Cybertron? No, the progress of the regeneration hints at it being caused at a later date. Additionally, the projected date of the injury exactly coincided with…

...The time of Blitzwing's offlining.

A cold fury settled over my spark, I had completely lost all patience with this mech. Dropkick stepped back warily as my wings hitched forward until they were almost paralell with the catwalk next to me, a visible sign of my growing anger. And all this time, I had thought it was Cliff Jumper who had taken my brother in arms away. Blitzwing, was a friend. I was tempted then to throw Cliff Jumper's death in the Autobot's face, force him to watch the vid capture of Dropkick executing him over and over. But then, Bumblebee doesn't exactly remember his old friends anymore, it would be an empty gesture.

I took a moment of focus on my closed off bond with Blitzwing, right next to the still active bond with Dropkick, and took a moment to flush the feelings of rage grief from my processor. Instead, I simply leaned forward with a gentle movement, and lightly pressed my lips against Bumblebee's Autobot insignia, causing a small spark of static to jump between us.

"Then there is nothing I can do for you." I hissed and withdrew.

"He is the one who offlined Blitzwing," I said, turning to a stunned Dropkick, whose facial plates immediately creased with rage.

"Truly?" He snarled, his optics burning like dying stars as he glared into the startled Autobot's own.

"Have at him," I invited. Dropkick needed no further encouragement.

I felt no joy at the look of panic and slight betrayal that shined in Bumblebee's optics as Dropkick layed into him with the savage fury of a mech who had a score to settle; of the two of us, he had the strongest bond to Blitzwing. I had detached myself from the entire situation, my spark cooling down as memories of a lost friend asserted themselves in my processor one after another.

I was finally brought forth from my recollections when a powerful sweeping strike from Dropkick sent Bumblebee flying up on his restraints at a right angle, causing them to dislodge from the hook. The Autobot crashed to the floor face down.

"Can I?" Dropkick asked, hovering expectantly over the yellow mech, who was slowly trying to right himself.

"His memory cells are fried," I stated, looking down at the young mech, "Finish him."

Her partner was quick to oblige, he hammered a kick into the Autobot's side, rolling the scout onto his back, before immediately following up with a devastating stomp on the mech's torso. The moment he did this, a latch on Bumblebee's chest flicked open and my optics identified the telltale signs of a holographic generator activating.

An image of Optimus Prime as large as Dropkick materialized above us. The Prime's strong, noble tenor floated loud and clear into her audio receptors.

"We will fight on. Rebuild, regroup, and retake our home!" The Prime proclaimed, gazing imperiously down at the two Decepticons gaping at his image, "But we must find refuge first. You will travel to Earth, once we have gathered the others, we will join you. You must protect the planet! If the Decepticons find it..."

.:Yeah, about that:. -Dropkick

.:Mute it!:. -Shatter

"...then our people are truly finished. Stay safe soldier, I am coming." The message ended, the hologram shut down. A pregnant silence filled our temporary lodging.

"Prime… is coming here?" Dropkick asked, his verbal interface dripping with incredulity.

"They're all coming here..." I said with awe. I was certain that Dropkick could feel the joy overtaking my spark bleeding through the trine bond, indeed I could feel his own growing excitement quite clearly. This was nothing short of providence! Clearly Primus himself has guided us here, to finally eradicate the Autobot pestilence that has for too long sullied Cybertron's hopes and dreams. My entire life cycle has led up to this moment; I had seen the war begin in my youth, and I would be there to pay witness to it's final conclusion.

"This is our chance to wipe out the Autobot Resistance for good!" I exclaimed, I could already taste victory on the tip of my glossa.

"We'll burn the whole planet to cinders!" Dropkick agreed, matching my smirk. Burning the planet might be a bit overkill, though I am sure Blitzwing would approve of the funeral pyre. Although in the interest of pragmatism, a carefully executed surprise attack working in cooperation with those paranoid humans should… oh slag, Powell heard that didn't he?

.:Now you've done it. The meatbag is panicking:. -Shatter

.:And there's my necessity:. -Dropkick

Though I was tiring of the 'Peacekeeper' ruse, it still had potential for the long run. But I wasn't going to press the issue, Dropkick was due his amusements now and then, however juvenile and inconvenient they were at times.

"We must get word to Cybertron immediately," I pressed forward, "Tell them to bring an army."

My audio receptor caught Powell speaking, "Burns we've made a terrible mistake." By the Pit you did fleshling. Perhaps in the next life, you will be more circumspect when talking of scrapping your betters!

"And thanks to our human 'allies'..." I continued, casting a mocking optic over in Powell's direction as I brought up a holo of the Russian space station, Mir, "I know just how to get the message home."

"They're using our satellites," Powell whimpered into his primitive communications device. I contemplated jamming it, but figured the damage was already done. "They're calling an army, they're going to kill us all!"

Deactivating the holo, I turned to fully regard the doctor, his skin paling to a rather unhealthy shade of white, "Thank you for your hospitality 'friend' Powell," I said, injecting fake gratitude into my tone before giving Dropkick a knowing smile.

"He's all yours."

Dropkick's Molecular Disruptor folded out of the subspace ports in his left servo as he brought it to bear on the hapless doctor. Powell's last blubbering words were drowned out by the sonorous whine of energon building up in my comrade's weapon system before discharging in an anticlimactic squeal of excited air. I watched in mute fascination as Powell's carbon footprint skyrocketed, before his liquefied remains stained the wall behind him.

.:That never gets old:. -Dropkick

I would have responded but a sharp gasp from just beyond the door leading to the catwalk had caught my attention. More interlopers?

A quick bioscan confirmed the presence of two human adolescents cowering behind the door, and one particular bio-signature stood out to me. 'That little femme is persistent, too bad it won't be enough.' Dismissing them as a potential threat, I turned back to Dropkick.

"I have found a tower to transmit our message," I brought the structure up on holo. A simple steel lattice construct mounted with dishes, with the proper modifications it would suit our purposes nicely. "It's close."

My attention was drawn to Bumblebee, who was vainly trying to get to his pedes, he looked remarkably like a kicked petrol puppy at the moment. I would know, Dropkick had punted plenty of them back on Cybertron.

"Oh, Bumblebee," I said, savoring his new designation with mock pity, "I almost forgot."

"I didn't," Dropkick growled, unlimbering his weapon system before firing point blank into the young bot's chest. The mech crumpled lifelessly to the ground, his vital signs negative.

In spite of everything, I could feel no pleasure looking down at Bumblebee's corpse. To be offlined, a shell of one's former self. It was almost a mercy killing.

"We are done here," I announced, setting my processor back to the task at hand. There was still a war to be won.

Instinctively I activated my ground transformation cogs, the ones that I had been originally created with, and settled into the form of a modified Plymouth GTX, Dropkick was right behind me as he folded down into his own alternate form.

Pulling out of the warehouse, I activated my second cog set – the ones grafted into my protoform by Shockwave himself – and took to the skies as a Harrier jump jet. The feel of the air friction against my frame and the panoramic view afforded by my sensor suite was enough to chase the unwanted feeling of unease from my processor.

Focusing in on the traffic below, I found myself scanning various vehicle designs as I passed on overhead. In spite of my initial distaste in using them, I found the Earthforms had grown on me; I especially liked the classical American muscle cars, that a Sector Seven auto enthusiast identified my ground form to be of such an example and showed me several others from photos in his wallet.

.:Collecting souvenirs?:. -Dropkick

.:I find myself growing fond of these parts. I think I will keep them for another vorn or ten:. -Shatter

.:Ditching mine when we get off the planet. I want to get stuck in with some real femmes when I get off this rock, can't be taken seriously looking like this:. -Dropkick

.:Real femmes? Expound:. -Shatter

I found myself locking my weapon systems on Dropkick's helicopter form.

.:I meant the ones that I have a 'real' chance with:. -Dropkick

.:Better:. -Shatter

Powering down the missiles, I chuckled internally at Dropkick putting his pedes into his mouth. That mech had never been successful with femmes.

Returning to my road shopping, I spotted a promising vehicle parked outside a bar. It looked pleasing - especially with the stylized avian creature displayed on it's hood - but the all black coat wasn't my thing. I quickly conducted a deep scan of the vehicle as I passed over it, saved it to my database and made a few quick edits to change it's color to my preferences and add a little something to declare my allegiance, the terms Pontiac and Trans-Am flashed through my processor before I confirmed the alterations. I would try that one out when we returned to Cybertron.

Dropkick

Dropkick swooped down into the dock after his companion, his sensors fixed upon the communications tower looming over a dry berth walled off from the sea. It was such a simple looking thing, Dropkick lacked the fascination and skill with primitve technology that Shatter possessed.

"Flimsy piece of trash, one good hit will knock it over," he growled.

"That's why you're here," Shatter replied. He watched as his femme companion unfolded her torso, withdrawing a single large cube from beneath her spark chamber before closing herself up again.

"That will never stop being weird." Dropkick pointed out, earning a light punch in the servo from his comrade.

"It's my largest subspace, and I don't have a sparkling to put in there," Shatter chided, though her words lacked venom. The femme was in too high spirits to let Dropkick spoil the moment. "I will mount this to the upper structure, keep an optic out for trouble. Install the energon generator on the control terminal at the tower's mid level when I call for you."

Dropkick grunted in acknowledgment, keeping an optic on Shatter as she nimbly scaled the tower while opening his receivers to the local airwaves. Apparently there was drama on the streets near their location, a car chase to be specific.

When Shatter reached the apex of the tower, she fused the cube to a nearby strut and the device quickly began unfolding and overtaking the surrounding structure. A square platform grew out of the struts beneath the femme, allowing her to stand comfortably as an array of haptic interfaces lit up in front of her.

Breems passed and the tower's seamless Cybertronic transmutation proceeded apace, thick cables snaked down the structure's central strut.

.:It's time. Rig the generator, and join me:. -Shatter

.:By your command:. -Dropkick

Dropkick dropped his awareness from the Police scanner, the dispatcher yammered something about a yellow beetle before being cut off. Dropkick pulled the energon generator from his own subspace and began to scale the converted tower.

Reaching the platform at the middle of the structure, he eyed the primitive control interface which had now been overtaken by superior Cybertronian nanotechnology. With care he placed the generator on the box, watching the infested hardware react to it's presence. Latches clamped shut to hold it in place, and cables snaked into ports alongside the generator; almost immediately afterward the green glow of energon began to overtake the transformed structure in a rapidly alternating current.

Satisfied, Dropkick climbed higher up the tower to join Shatter beneath the parabolic antenna that was sprouting from the top of a thick mass of shifting metal and cables.

"So it ends," Dropkick muttered, taking his place at the femme's side.

"Not yet," Shatter countered, "We still have one last battle to fight. It will not end while Prime still lives."

"And after?" he asked curiously.

Shatter's digits paused in their motions, an unfamiliar look crossed her intricate geometric features before a small smile rose to dominate them. "What comes after, will be mine to decide."

Dropkick could feel a growing sense of contentment rise through his trine bond with Shatter, it was mixed in with tiredness and a brief stab of bitter longing, but moreover he could feel an all encompassing sense of relief settling in her spark. He could not recall a time he had ever seen the femme this happy in all the hundreds of vorns he had known her.

That's when he realized that Shatter was on the cusp of completing her life's mission; to bring an end to the Long War.

"Perhaps I will become a real peacekeeper," she chuckled, continuing her work with increased gusto. "What about you?"

The offhand inquiry suddenly halted the traffic in his processor. What was he going to do? Dropkick was a warrior, fighting was the only life he knew, and unlike Shatter he did not have much in the way of aspirations beyond crushing his enemies.

"I will stay military," he grunted, "Lord Megatron can't possibly run out of enemies could he?"

"It is doubtful," Shatter agreed, "Even when Prime falls, many of his supporters will carry on the fight, futile as it would be."

"Then I'll kill them," Dropkick answered confidently, his mood brightening at his future prospects for violence.

"It's ready," Shatter announced, her optics fixated on the haptic interfaces floating in front of her helm. Pausing, she turned her helm to regard him; Dropkick was surprised when his tactile sensors registered Shatter's hand resting upon his shoulder, his spark warmed at the ages old gesture of camaraderie and he reciprocated, placing his own servo on a glossy red shoulder plate.

"For Blitzwing."

She nodded to him, and she let her hand fall away. "Preparing satellites to transmit our message."

Dropkick remained silent while Shatter worked her magic, the interface was now flooded with status bars denoting individual viral packages being uploaded to satellites and the rootkit being planted into the systems of the Mir station.

Just when boredom began settling into his processor, shit started blowing up.

Three explosive shells smashed into the parabolic array, nearly shaking him off the platform. Instinctively he traced the trajectory and his optics settled on none other than B-127, who was charging the tower weapon raised to fire.

'Sweet Primus, this is embarrassing.'

"Handle him!" Shatter bellowed, hauling herself up to the damaged antenna, "And finish the job this time!"

'And there goes her good mood.'

Leaping from the platform, he activated his secondary cogs, transforming into a Cobra attack helicopter to dive in on the leaping Autobot, reverting to his true form to catch the smaller mech in flying tackle, sending both of them crashing to the ground through the hulls of a number of light seacraft.

The yellow mech rolled to his pedes to face him, and Dropkick felt a burst of energon flow from his spark into his servos as the thrill of the fight descended upon him. This was going to be fun.

Shatter

The damage was not irreversible. All it took was a few quick welds and an energon transfer to jumpstart the self-repair process. Anger coursed through my circuits, forcing minute jolts from my coolant system as I felt Dropkick fight it out with Bumblebee in the dockyard below me. I am so close! We cannot afford to fail now, not after all these eons of grueling service.

It appeared that the mech had finally restored his memory circuits, if his performance against my trine mate was anything to indicate. It would make no difference, Dropkick would crush the Autobot in time.

Dropping back to the platform, I quickly re-engaged the transmitter and locked optics onto the status bar that flashed onto the primary holo-screen. Twenty-seven percent uploaded.

A rocket screamed past my shoulder and I recoiled backwards in surprise, it was then that my sensors locked upon an approaching helicopter. Focusing my optics I made out a familiar face in the cockpit. Agent Burns.

The helicopter's machine guns opened up on my position, forcing me into cover. The bullets weren't too threatening, but they could give me damage I could honestly live without. I returned fire with a burst from my repeater cannon and swung down beneath the platform, hoping to draw the weapons fire away from the transmitter.

A sudden chorus of alarms washed through my bond with Dropkick. I could feel his pain and distress, something had just gone terribly wrong.

.:Dropkick!:. -Shatter

No, not again! I can't lose another! My companion for the last two-thousand vorns chimed my comms one last time, a mixture of rage, regret, and pain washed through our bond.

.:Farewell… comrade:. -Dropkick

The explosion from down below, and the abrupt collapse of my last trine bond nearly made me fall off the tower. My lonely spark howled with pain, and my processors struggled to cope. Dropkick was gone! Gone forever!

The whir of rotor blades and the staccato of machine gun fire roused me from my spell of grief. There was still a mission to complete.

Snarling, I activated my VTOL thrusters and jumped to the top of the transmitter, gripping the rim of the antenna and leveling my servo at the helicopter as a short range missile slipped out of my forearm's munition rack. A mental impulse sent the missile into the machine's engine, sending it spiraling to the ground.

I wasn't left long to revel in it's destruction before tampering alarms blared in my HUD, I snapped my focus down below and took notice of the wretched femling. Bumblebee's human friend.

"What. Are. You. DOING?!" I shouted, spraying a long burst of my repeater at the fleshling who scrambled desperately for cover.

A savage thought imposed itself in my processor.

Bumblebee stole Dropkick from me. I will return the favor with this disgusting animal! I leaped off the platform, activating my flier mode in mid flip. Swinging myself into position I lined my sights upon the femling. 'Burn in the Pit, you pathetic sow!'

A rotary cannon dropped from my fuselage and spun up to unleash a quick burst, but before I could take the shot my airframe rippled with shock as an explosive projectile hammered into me from below. My engines cut out and I immediately nosed down into an out of control spin. I reverted to my true form just before I crashed down into the empty berth below.

Warning! Cog-set A-2 critically damaged. Flight mode: offline

Primus slag it! I rolled my frame upright and took stock of my surroundings. I could see evidence of Dropkick's demise all around me, only his legs and lower chassis were left intact from his violent end. Tearing my gaze off the still smoking remains, I ducked into a nearby drainage alcove and sure enough Bumblebee was running down to face me.

The upload bar in my HUD read seventy-seven percent. Almost there.

The moment the Autobot's pedes met the floor of the drydock, I was leaping towards him. I locked my servos around his frame, my momentum rolling us helm over aft before I arrested it by slamming my pede into his torso, pinning the mech down.

In a physical match, there was no contest between us. But the scout proved to be a tricky little fragger, before I could unload a point blank burst from my repeater into his helm, he did a quick partial transformation, driving himself out from under me. I went after him with my own Plymouth form, ramming him down again before he could get back to his pedes.

Rolling out of a quick retransition I was upon him, seizing the mech by the scruff of his frame; my half-subspaced engine revved up wrathfully as I threw him over my shoulder and smashed him into the concrete.

Upload at eighty-five percent.

The young scout shook off his disorientation, a serrated cybertronium knuckle blade slid out of his left servo and he came charging at me. Rookie mistake.

I easily evaded the first swing by stepping backwards, I stepped back into his guard while he prepared a follow up and caught the servo and the blade firmly in my grip. I jerked the smaller mech off balance, before snapping the blade off with a perfectly timed knee strike. Now his weapon was my weapon.

Before Bumblebee could even react, I was already driving the mech's own blade through his torso plate and slamming his helm into the ground. Humiliation.

Caution: Power failure imminent!

I gasped through my intakes, my optics locking on the tower with growing horror. I could only watch helplessly as the glow of energon petered out, leaving the tower dark and my transmitter dead.

"No..." the bottom dropped out from under my processor. Blitzwing's death, Dropkick's sacrifice; it had all been in vain.

The femling responsible leaned out over the railing above, the elated look on her face sent my spark ablaze with renewed fury. 'I should have killed this one when I first saw it!'

My facial plates scraped together into an expression which I am sure was of pure hatred as I lined my sights on the human.

Once more however, Bumblebee interfered. My weapon was knocked out of line and I found myself being flipped over onto my back. The young mech was punching me repeatedly in the helm. Acting on experience I broke out of his lock with a quick strike and sent him flying off.

I forced myself to my pedes and advanced upon the yellow irritant. The mech tried to stand, I denied him with an expertly delivered roundhouse kick to the helm.

It wasn't enough to kill him now. He had to suffer.

Hauling him up by his winglets, I drove my knee into the base of his neck and threw him back to the ground.

Rage coursed through me, I roared out my frustrations, vented out the agony in my spark for the mechs that I had lost as I began pummeling Bumblebee's masked helm into the concrete. I pinned him under my greater weight and stared spitefully into his insectoid styled lenses and the dimming optics beneath them. The sweltering heat blasting from my vents distorted the air around us as I reached for a broken length of metal with a jagged point at the end.

"After I kill you..." my voice rose to a scream as I prepared to drive the improvised spear into the mech's battered helm, "I'll kill her!"

Before I could finish him, I heard Bumblebee's cannon give out one last defiant report. Incredulous I glanced back to see the damage wrought on the berth wall behind me. In spite of the situation a contemptuous chuckle rose out of my vocal processor, "You missed."

I was just about to offline him when a great shudder echoed across the drydock. I turned back just in time to witness the sea gate collapsing inwards, and the flat bow of a large cargo ship slide into the berth atop a cresting wall of water. It was coming right for me!

I moved to get out of the way, but was stopped by a blow from behind that knocked me to my knees and two servos gripping me from behind, holding me in place. The cargo ship was accelerating faster, at the speed it was going it could not possibly fail to crush us flat. As if summoned by this realization, a collision alarm blinked in my peripheral vision.

"You'll kill us both!" I shouted, struggling to free myself. But the mech remained unyielding in his apparent desire to sacrifice himself. If it were anyone other than me in this situation, I would have been impressed. Water rushed around our frames and the out of control vessel bore down upon me, it's bow mounted flood lights overwhelming my optics. My spark stilled in my chest.

The ship slammed into me like the fist of an angry god.

The impact could be felt all the way through to my protoframe, my torso plates crumpled inwards from the sheer brute force of the container ship as it carried me unwillingly upon a wave of water. I felt Bumblebee tumble off my back – hopefully to be ground into useless scrap – but I managed to grab hold of the bow before the current could suck me under where I would be crushed between the hull and the floor; I looked behind me to see the wall at the end of the drydock rushing towards me.

I would not survive that.

My logic center spun into overdrive and time slowed down for me. How do I get out of this?

Ten seconds until impact. I needed to remove the wall.

My battle mask snapped down snugly over my face as I leveled my servo and fired a high yield missile at the oncoming wall. It buried it's head into the concrete and sputtered out. No effect, missile was a dud. Having no time to curse the faltering standards of today's munitions industry, I struggled to come up with another plan.

Seven seconds until impact. Plan B, into the ship.

I offline the safeties in all my servomotors and energon lines, this was a matter of life or death. My entire frame pulsed green as my systems went into overload; my fist punched clean through the bow, my other servo joined it to widen the breach.

Four seconds until impact. I force my frame through, I scream incoherently as I feel an energon line in my shoulder stress to breaking point. My spark feels like it's going to burst from my chassis, the pain is nearly overwhelming. I will not die here. I will not allow it to end like this!

Two seconds until impact. My body is halfway through, I fold my wings into subspace in an effort to get in all the way.

When the ship climatically slammed into the berth wall, my missile chose that moment to detonate. My vision goes white, alarms shriek in my processor, my audios are consumed with static, I feel my leg buckle, flames burst around me.

Then all was silent.

Author's Note: And there we have it. My first chapter uploaded in years. It's taken time for me to muster up enough mojo to get back into fanfics and this idea was too sweet to pass up. Shatter was by far one of my favorite characters, probably more so than BB because she actually had more lines. This is probably going to be a long fic, I have a loose structure already set in place and have a good idea on how it's going to play out. Don't expect regular updates on this, but I'll try to stick with this until the end.

Edit 6/18/2019: Was just informed that the ISS wasn't even launched in the eighties, I have replaced it with the Soviet owned Mir space station.