The Game

The Game
Prologue
Bumblebee’s POV

“Attack!”

“Ironhide, you and Cliffjumper take your positions!”

Loud. Deafening. Explosions.

“Aim the rocket launchers up, boys! Knock those sonzabitches out of the sky~!”

“We need more ammo!”

Blinding light. Earth shattering blows.

“Bumblebee!”

I could hear him—Ratchet; an angel in his own right. And I tried to move, to greet him with a smile, but my body was wracked with pain. So much pain. He knelt by my side and cradled my head gently, as if I were a mere hatchling; “Don’t move,” he said. Don’t move.

I cried out as he called over another to help lift the debris from my battered form. My legs had been pinned—possibly broken. Curse this fragile body. Yes, damn it all to Hell. Because of Optimus Prime’s gullible nature, we—Autobots and Decepticons alike—are forced to endure this—this game; this alternate reality, where we roam a post-apocalyptic earth as HUMANS.

We have to survive… We have to… eat, sleep, and OW-SHIT like the rest of them. “Sorry, kid. I’m almost done.” No. It will never be done. This will go on and on until Optimus or Megatron accepts defeat—the latter being highly unlikely to submit to failure.

“Ratchet… Will he be okay?”

“Yes, Prime, but I’m afraid he won’t be able to rejoin the fray for some time.”

“There is an old cathedral bordering the edge of the city. Take him there to recover.”

My head lolled about as Ratchet lifted me into his arms. “Skyfire!” I cringed as he called out for the other… man—I need to keep in mind we’re not robots anymore. In no time, a large white shuttle hovered closer and closer to the ground, kicking up bits and pieces of dirt and trash. I was rushed into the cargo hold and off we went—to safety, or so I thought…