Content: He has some last words and an ancient artifact to bestow.
Setting: Southeastern Reial, a desert plain not too far from Claiborne
Time: Right after this post.
Warnings: Character death.
It was over.
It was...all over.
He had held Bradley off as long as he could. It had been...the hardest battle he'd ever fought. Where had the humans gotten such power? Why did they have to misuse it?
Optimus Prime lay on his back, chestplate sparking, a trail of dirty black smoke crawling toward the sky. He was a mess: copious tears in the metal chassis revealed disjointed gears and sliced wiring, all sword wounds. His right arm was a good twelve feet away, and his legs were too damaged for him to stand. Fluid -- oil and energon and coolant -- leaked into the sand below him. Warning lights flared in his vision, telling him how critical the damage was. He didn't need the alarms to know that. His laser core had been damaged, the protective housing around his spark. Very soon, he would go offline.
This wasn't like the emergency stasis he'd slipped into on Cybertron when the explosions rocked that continent. This was a true fading of his spark. If he was rebuilt, it would be as a pure machination, driven by code, not emotion or life. He would be no more alive than a difference engine.
It was death.
He could only hope his crew had followed his advice and made it out safely. It was his fault, his fault for taking on a Reialian crew. He'd led them into this mess. If his sacrifice meant they could make it out alive, with a chance to scatter and flee...then it was worth it. It was the least he could do.