Under A Sky So Black - A Transformers Fic (Again!)
Well...here's a fic spawned by a bunny over at the
tf_bunny_farmfrom this post, number eight
*scuffs foot* I'm not sure if it's exactly what they wanted but...I tried. And I have two different fics/versions from the same bunny buried in one of my journals. If I dig it out and type them down... ^^;; Criticism is very much appreciated.
Title: Under A Sky So Black
Rating: PG
Series: Transformers G1
Warnings: Um...Crystal City? Reprogramming? I actually don't think there's much to warn about here, really...
Summary: Maybe, once, there would have been something. But that was before and they were wiser now.
No regrets.
He stood quietly a long ways from the burning remains of what had once been Crystal City, so far away that the flames from the burning wreckage were nothing more than dim pinpricks of light in the distance, and even that was sometimes swallowed up by the dark. It probably was not a wise move to remain here, so close to the destruction and the raging guardian that went with it, but still they strained his optics and watched.
It was strange, actually; they had expected to feel something more than this…dim, distant regret. Where once they would have been screaming and furious and so, so lost at the wreckage of what had been their city. Where they might once have mourned the loss of their friend and the pain they had left for him there was instead nothing. Or not so much nothing as emotions that parts of him still shied away from, if only slightly.
The cinders from the flames and the scratches, the dents from the fight still covered his form. A part of him shuddered at the feel of the grime; the rest of him ignored that part. The fire was still burning, and that held his attention wonderfully. That same part of him insisted he would regret his neglect later, but, like the rest of him, ignoring that part became easier with time.
(Maybe he would regret later, but now he wanted to see the city burn, and marvel at the complete lack of the emotion.)
He was caught up in the strange beauty of the destruction, and what little of it he could see. It was like they had torn something down, something that was so perfect on the outside and so flawed on the inside it pained him to have looked at it. Something that had so much potential it hadn’t been able to reach, trapped as it was in its one form. But now…now it was gone and that left room for something so much better.
A hand curled tightly in a fist, and he took the time to marvel at the feel of it; it was such a strong grip, a sure grip. It was something better than what had been before. Like…he looked harder at the city, hand flexing lightly. Opening and closing, opening and closing. His optic band brightened in response to the thrumming in his wires. So many emotions, emotions they had never felt before.
Yes…sometimes it was worth it to tear down what had once been perfection. Perfection was the highest standard, the highest anyone could go, and if there was already something perfect, then there was no room to build. And that was what they did, wasn’t it? They built and strived for higher ground. They had been perfection and had created perfection, and now they needed to go higher. To raise that bar they had set and reached there needed to be room to expand and that was the thing with perfection, it didn’t allow you room to change; to grow. To do so to perfection would only create something that was imperfect.
So perfection, in order to be better, needed to be scrapped, melted down, and built up again and again until it was better than perfect. And they were all so close to the new standard that had been set. They were growing and changing and becoming something more and wasn’t that all they could ever ask for? Just for the chance to create something better than the best; to be better than the best?
They were working for it, and they were almost there. They were so close…
Devastator shifted at the influx of several different emotions from several different sources. All agreeing (in their own way), all happy (in their own way), and that was all that mattered. They were going to do this, they were, and if they had to devote themselves to Megatron and his cause to do it then so be it. Megatron was almost doing the same thing they were, anyway. He understood how to change perfection and leave something shining and flawless and just better in its place.
Once there had been something, something now slippery and cold and almost forgotten; that had disagreed with that necessity of destruction and rebuilding on the ashes of what was left behind. Megatron had gotten rid of that too, and had allowed them to see that necessity with clearer optics. At the very least they owed the Decepticon for that, no matter how some parts of him might view that kind of debt.
With that, and as the last fires of Crystal City disappeared into the darkness for a final time, Devastator fell apart.
No regrets.
tf_bunny_farmfrom this post, number eight
*scuffs foot* I'm not sure if it's exactly what they wanted but...I tried. And I have two different fics/versions from the same bunny buried in one of my journals. If I dig it out and type them down... ^^;; Criticism is very much appreciated.
Title: Under A Sky So Black
Rating: PG
Series: Transformers G1
Warnings: Um...Crystal City? Reprogramming? I actually don't think there's much to warn about here, really...
Summary: Maybe, once, there would have been something. But that was before and they were wiser now.
No regrets.
He stood quietly a long ways from the burning remains of what had once been Crystal City, so far away that the flames from the burning wreckage were nothing more than dim pinpricks of light in the distance, and even that was sometimes swallowed up by the dark. It probably was not a wise move to remain here, so close to the destruction and the raging guardian that went with it, but still they strained his optics and watched.
It was strange, actually; they had expected to feel something more than this…dim, distant regret. Where once they would have been screaming and furious and so, so lost at the wreckage of what had been their city. Where they might once have mourned the loss of their friend and the pain they had left for him there was instead nothing. Or not so much nothing as emotions that parts of him still shied away from, if only slightly.
The cinders from the flames and the scratches, the dents from the fight still covered his form. A part of him shuddered at the feel of the grime; the rest of him ignored that part. The fire was still burning, and that held his attention wonderfully. That same part of him insisted he would regret his neglect later, but, like the rest of him, ignoring that part became easier with time.
(Maybe he would regret later, but now he wanted to see the city burn, and marvel at the complete lack of the emotion.)
He was caught up in the strange beauty of the destruction, and what little of it he could see. It was like they had torn something down, something that was so perfect on the outside and so flawed on the inside it pained him to have looked at it. Something that had so much potential it hadn’t been able to reach, trapped as it was in its one form. But now…now it was gone and that left room for something so much better.
A hand curled tightly in a fist, and he took the time to marvel at the feel of it; it was such a strong grip, a sure grip. It was something better than what had been before. Like…he looked harder at the city, hand flexing lightly. Opening and closing, opening and closing. His optic band brightened in response to the thrumming in his wires. So many emotions, emotions they had never felt before.
Yes…sometimes it was worth it to tear down what had once been perfection. Perfection was the highest standard, the highest anyone could go, and if there was already something perfect, then there was no room to build. And that was what they did, wasn’t it? They built and strived for higher ground. They had been perfection and had created perfection, and now they needed to go higher. To raise that bar they had set and reached there needed to be room to expand and that was the thing with perfection, it didn’t allow you room to change; to grow. To do so to perfection would only create something that was imperfect.
So perfection, in order to be better, needed to be scrapped, melted down, and built up again and again until it was better than perfect. And they were all so close to the new standard that had been set. They were growing and changing and becoming something more and wasn’t that all they could ever ask for? Just for the chance to create something better than the best; to be better than the best?
They were working for it, and they were almost there. They were so close…
Devastator shifted at the influx of several different emotions from several different sources. All agreeing (in their own way), all happy (in their own way), and that was all that mattered. They were going to do this, they were, and if they had to devote themselves to Megatron and his cause to do it then so be it. Megatron was almost doing the same thing they were, anyway. He understood how to change perfection and leave something shining and flawless and just better in its place.
Once there had been something, something now slippery and cold and almost forgotten; that had disagreed with that necessity of destruction and rebuilding on the ashes of what was left behind. Megatron had gotten rid of that too, and had allowed them to see that necessity with clearer optics. At the very least they owed the Decepticon for that, no matter how some parts of him might view that kind of debt.
With that, and as the last fires of Crystal City disappeared into the darkness for a final time, Devastator fell apart.
No regrets.