Disclaimer: The Transformers belong to hasbro, not to me.

Coming home

He was standing before the door and for a moment, he hesitated.

Finally he brought himself to type the access code in the panel.

For a moment he couldn´t remember the right numbers. It was as if his memories were gone, like a blackout.

Or was that just his own mind playing tricks on him?

Were it ever his memories to begin with?

Then he remembered the correct numbers and opened the door. Like he did so many times before. Or didn´t he?

This was the first time he ever was in this building or on this planet his CPU told him. But he knew what his main computer told was a lie.

He stepped through the door and entered the quarters of the dead mech.

As he looked around, he saw everything, the different rooms, the furniture, personal items that belonged to the Decepticon who had lived here. Everything was the same.

Only one thing was not, he.

He knew the mech who had lived here, knew everything about him, his entire life, everything.

For a moment, a subconscious feeling of terror overcame him. He felt confused, afraid and displaced.

Dead, gone, not longer here, it shot through his mind.

You don´t belong, something in his inside told him.

This was wrong.

Under Transformers, both Autobot and Decepticons, it had never been practice to live in the quarters of a robot who had died, at least not right away. The room should have been cleared out, his possessions going to his closest friends or comrades.

But nothing of that had happened. The room was still untouched. Everything was unchanged, as if this mech still lived here.

He did, another part of him screamed. The mech was still here, still alive somewhere.

Or something.

And still it was right.

Everything that the seeker once possessed belonged now to him, everything that this mech was, was now his.

This were his quarters.

He saw a number of holos standing in a corner and activated one of them.

It showed a blue and a black seeker standing beside each other and talking about something that happened on earth some years ago.

He remembered it. He recognized the former owner of this quarters and his friend

Skywarp.

No.

For a moment he lost his hold on himself.

He felt like he was floating in space, he was weak, strength-less, helpless.

Then he felt the rays of the machinery on him, tearing through the metal of his body, ripping everything apart and he heard the voice in his head.

He looked around, realizing he was still standing beside the four holo-projectors.

Who am I? He asked himself for a split second.

Scourge, his CPU told him. Scourge the tracker, Unicron´s voice answered him.

Thundercracker, his spark screamed at him, his memories said to him.

In a Transformer sized mirror at the other side of the room, he saw a strange, bearded face before bizarre, demonic looking wings, starring at him.

Scourge was standing in the middle of the quarters that until yesterday belonged to the Decepticon named Thundercracker.

This is a short story those idea came relatively spontanous to me.

It describes the most common situation in the world. But it is turning wicked alone by what is going on inside your own head.

You are coming home after a long day. But the twist is that in this single case, you are not longer you.