#autobotelectrum

crimson-nemesis.deviantart.com did the lines; Josh Burcham did the colors!  

           All she could do was stand completely still; she didn’t even blink.  The sight and the sounds from it nearly overloaded her circuits, feeling the myriad of lives in horror.  She did not wish to remain there, but she was surrounded with no way to escape.  And there was nowhere to escape, as her whole world was now in shambles.  In what one could only surmise as prayer, she held her servos clenched before her sparkling crystal chest.  Shimmering tears streamed down her faceplate.

             Electrum still was not sure if it was real or some dream.  She was hoping it was a nightmare; soon she would open her overflowing optics and find out everything was okay, nothing to worry about.

           With a thud to her back, the realization that it was not a dream stung her out of her stupor.  “Go.”  It was Tesarus, the largest member of the Decepticon Justice Division.  The mech’s voice was tinged with evil glee.  She blinked as she stumbled forward from the force of the hit; she nearly smacked her helm upon the railing of the platform. Catching herself, she steadied on shaking peds.  “Watch.” The mech gave a low rumble in amusement as he waved outwards towards the onslaught.  Her audio sensors could hear some whispers and chuckling coming from the other DJD members.  She vented loudly, glaring toward Tesarus, hissing with displeasure.  He made a threatening step towards her, whirling his metal blades, in response.

Quickly looking away, Electrum observed that the cyber forming process of Earth was almost completed.  All lives not lost through the violent process were being boarded upon the few cargo ships placed only a short distance away from the fortress she stood upon. She knew that they were now slaves; everything was lost.  If those alive even made it to the ships it was no mercy.  Witnessed to the inexorable might of the victors, the truth hit her hard. The Decepticons had won; and, she failed.

Everywhere there was blood and flesh.  Nothing was sacred to the soldiers carrying out their judgments of who should live and who should die.  They reveled in the process, no holds barred. Electrum thought she fully understood death, but with this display, it staring her right in the face…  Dizzy, she was not sure what she knew anymore.

             As she became overwhelmed, she began to sway and bend.  Seething, the rage swirling her thoughts with wishes for revenge. There were more tears. She wanted to jump into the fray, do something to stop the killing, something to stop those who had no love for this world, except where it could fill their selfish desires. This wish nearly carried her over the edge, physically as much as mentally.  It was not as if anyone would care.  She stomped her heeled peds in frustration, clenched her denta, and squealed where she wished to scream.  Her servos clenched tight into fists.  Her normally aquamarine optics burned scarlet.

She would once again have to live with the feelings, and bring them inside of herself.  Small wonder, Electrum began to think she was learning to enjoy it; how the energy generated by all her experiences had knowledge of her body, traveling it, hitting those spots with intensity – her heart, her mind.

Electrum’s intake formed the most ugly of scowls upon her faceplate as everything came to a head.  Her spark flared brightly in its crystal chamber upon her breast, her mind spinning wildly, her fists pounding against the railing, “No!!!”  Finally a wail escaped her.  She collapsed with a sob.

“Temper, temper, dear Electrum.  Do show some restraint.”  Tarn, with his abilities to modulate his voice, commanded her.  While she was trying to pull herself up, she instantly collapsed again at his song.  He knelt down at her side.  He stroked her cheek; and then, with some force, he yanked up her chin, trying to make her look at him.  She averted her eyes at first, but he gave her helm a shake until she complied; his glowing optics filled with ominous warning.  He then let go, rose, and proceeded to congratulate his group on work well done.

After some cycles of sitting erratically, staring out into nothingness, she regained her composure enough to stand, getting back some sense of balance.  It was a slow process, but her helm was starting to settle, the dizziness going away.  Primus’ blessing, she was temporarily unable to hear all the noise about her.  She slumped against the railing.

Again she asked herself why? She felt immense guilt and shame.  The DJD rarely left survivors, so why were they prolonging this torment.  Why should the Decepticons care if she ever saw the light of day again, if she saw Earth in any other way than what she remembered, and tried to protect?

Her thoughts turned to her teammates.  Electrum tried to save her people, offering Tarn the allowance of singing to her as much as he wanted.  Still, there was only so much pleasure that could be gained – wasn’t there?  Only after allowing their perverse games did Electrum find out the agreement was never kept.  They slaughtered her group.  Humans and Autobots alike met death at the machinations from the worst possible beings ever.  She shouldn’t have been shocked.  She now saw how calculated it all was.  Her team members’ fates were only an addition to her agony; and, an addition to the agony of the entire Autobot cause.  Tarn’s voice echoed in her mind; his excuses swayed her to believe that it was all her fault.

More tears fell, more sobs threatened to explode from her.  Putting a servo to her intake, she began to steady herself again.  She did not wish to cry loudly, she feared it would set them off.

 Electrum noticed one of the DJD members strolling emphatically towards her. It was Whiplash.  The weakness that still held her body began to loosen its grasp, replaced by a slowly building energy rush in her gut.  She straightened her posture.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Electrum?”  Whiplash’s voice was disgustingly smooth and sweet.

Electrum did not answer, though her dermas slightly moved to form words. They were not coming to her, so she could only manage to stare at the femme with dimmed optics.  She slowly shook her helm.

“Did we release the spark eater on you?  Speak!”  Whiplash’s beautiful façade crumbled in a manner of only a few nanoseconds.  Optics wide, body tense, she suddenly pointed out beyond the fortress’ wall in a huff.

Electrum slowly closed her optics and turned her helm just enough to glimpse behind her.  She did not look though, and she did not say a thing.  She just held firm her disheartened posture.

Whiplash’s temper skyrocketed at that point, “Nothing?”

“There’s nothing to see.”  It was all she could formulate for the time.

Repeating herself, Whiplash snarled, “Nothing?”

“You destroyed it all.”  Electrum replied breathlessly.

Whiplash gave a sudden movement and backhanded her faceplate; pulling on an arm, she spun Electrum into a chokehold.  Hissing into her audio sensor, “There is nothing for you anymore, Autobot!”

Whiplash chortled as her servo’s nails turned into razor sharp blades. In an instant, the claw ripped through neck cables.