Drabblefic; Remember
He remembers the fight. The mech struck out of nowhere, and like any true Decepticon would, he did not take the assault lightly. But for all of his power, brute strength was not his forte; he remembers using speed and agility to his advantage, utilizing his smaller size and the ferocity that has allowed him to live this long even with others of his own faction, those from his world - but in the end, there was a blow to his processor, and then blackness.
He remembers waking up, slowly, in pain. Noticing that he has parts missing, and managing some cursing before falling back into stasis.
He does not remember stasis. He assumes few do. He remembers onlining from time to time, brief snatches of function where he feeds off bodies that have seen worse days than him. Somehow, he survives, in more of a daze and the desire for revenge than anything else. He refuses to give up, to surrender. He will not give in.
He remembers being crouched over a body, sapping its fuel lines, and movement catching his attention. His body was still weak, hardly able to activate weapon systems much less a distres signal but he was prepared to fight for his life, baring denta in a clear message.
He doesn't quite remember what happened next. He does remember what happened after that, being with a group of others, fighting over patheticly small cubes of energon but it was fuel, precious fuel, and he remembers looking up and seeing some shadowed figures. Hearing brief snatches of conversation; something about 'workers' or 'slaves', and he remembers the rage that boiled up within him before another slashed at his face and then there was another fight.
He remembers the days that followed only barely; they were steady in their monotony. Searching through the heap for either scrap or more bodies that were able to be utilized for the 'masters', feeling little but hatred and the will to have his revenge. He remembers being kept in condition only good enough to accomplish the duties; all but critical systems are ignored by their 'masters', but he does not let this stop him.
He remembers making 'friends'. Oh, he remembers, and relishes it, because it is something he is so very good at. Making alliances among the other 'slaves', plotting to pool their talents. The ones who have been here for some time, he gives only somewhat more thought; just enough to decide whether they have been waiting for the right moment and therefore can be useful to him, or have already become dead at spark.
Their act of defiance...he will remember forever. There was no feeling more sweet than the feel of energon under his claws, the sight of other with their makeshift weapons, friend and foe alike in a brutal battle for life. But he does not stay and linger, no - he leaves them as soon as he has taken his revenge, for he remembers the face of one of their masters and it is the face of the one who is at fault for all this, the one who started it all with the ambush-
Oh, he will remember this. He will savor it for many Vorns to come.
He remembers waking up, slowly, in pain. Noticing that he has parts missing, and managing some cursing before falling back into stasis.
He does not remember stasis. He assumes few do. He remembers onlining from time to time, brief snatches of function where he feeds off bodies that have seen worse days than him. Somehow, he survives, in more of a daze and the desire for revenge than anything else. He refuses to give up, to surrender. He will not give in.
He remembers being crouched over a body, sapping its fuel lines, and movement catching his attention. His body was still weak, hardly able to activate weapon systems much less a distres signal but he was prepared to fight for his life, baring denta in a clear message.
He doesn't quite remember what happened next. He does remember what happened after that, being with a group of others, fighting over patheticly small cubes of energon but it was fuel, precious fuel, and he remembers looking up and seeing some shadowed figures. Hearing brief snatches of conversation; something about 'workers' or 'slaves', and he remembers the rage that boiled up within him before another slashed at his face and then there was another fight.
He remembers the days that followed only barely; they were steady in their monotony. Searching through the heap for either scrap or more bodies that were able to be utilized for the 'masters', feeling little but hatred and the will to have his revenge. He remembers being kept in condition only good enough to accomplish the duties; all but critical systems are ignored by their 'masters', but he does not let this stop him.
He remembers making 'friends'. Oh, he remembers, and relishes it, because it is something he is so very good at. Making alliances among the other 'slaves', plotting to pool their talents. The ones who have been here for some time, he gives only somewhat more thought; just enough to decide whether they have been waiting for the right moment and therefore can be useful to him, or have already become dead at spark.
Their act of defiance...he will remember forever. There was no feeling more sweet than the feel of energon under his claws, the sight of other with their makeshift weapons, friend and foe alike in a brutal battle for life. But he does not stay and linger, no - he leaves them as soon as he has taken his revenge, for he remembers the face of one of their masters and it is the face of the one who is at fault for all this, the one who started it all with the ambush-
Oh, he will remember this. He will savor it for many Vorns to come.