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"When things go wrong, run. I don't care what they told you, that you are to offer your life for the cause because you'll be a hero. Being a dead hero isn't worth it, believe me.”
Smokescreen looked up at his big brother in surprise, Prowl never spoke like that. He was never a coward and risked his life more than once as an on-site tactician. Smokescreen would know, he spent more than one night sitting beside his unconscious, just patched up frame. And the image of those injuries made the disbelief turn into anger.
“You must be kidding me.” He snapped, letting his doorwings flare to properly express his anger without any restraints given by propriety and rank. If he wanted to speak as a coward and not as a commander, Smokescreen wouldn’t be kind enough to offer him the respect the second option was due. “I am not a scaredy cybercat, Prowl, is that what you think of me? I too joined the war to avenge Praxus as you did, I am not going to run the moment things don’t look amazing.”
Prowl’s softer, almost anxious expression that threatened to deeply unsettle the newly graduated soldier with how uncharacteristic it was, disappeared with the mech going back to his stern usual countenance. He shook his helm, with an air that gave off frustration and irritation, but that comforted Smokescreen. It was way more familiar to him. He closed the small gap between them to the point Smokescreen had to raise his helm to look at his taller brother in the optics.
“You’re young. You’re inexperienced, and you still believe you can make a difference.” The Second in Command answered calmly, and Smokescreen winced as that hurt worse than a slap in the face. But before he could pull back or snap back the mech touched his chevron with one long digit, making the younger praxian shiver as it was weirdly cold “I didn’t want to arrive to this, but I order you to run, whenever the danger toward you is too great.”
Smokescreen finally managed to pull back, scoffing as he tried not to tremble as his brother was truly creeping him out. Anger now accompanied by worry as the mech’s behavior was always stranger.
“I don’t respond to you directly; I do not have to listen to you.” He sneered before turning away. “Thank you, by the way, for the congratulations for my graduation. You truly expressed what you think of my abilities.”
The young praxian walked off to join his friends, ignoring Prowl’s calls as he forced himself to grin at Hot Rod. He didn’t really feel like celebrating now, but he couldn’t let his brother ruin his friends’ fun too.
—
Smokescreen was walking down the dark, almost creepy halls of that massive old building, always doing the same steps back and forth like he did every single day since he was transferred just five weeks after leaving the academy. A whole decavorn, his whole time as an active, trained soldier, spent guarding an old worthless mech and patrolling a way too large and dusty palace. The young praxian sighed softly as he looked at his war grade blaster that, by protocol, he had to keep ready to shoot at any given moment, never mind that the most he could use it on was glitchmice eating on cables or the metal cover of a datapad.
“You couldn’t convince me with words so you decided to bury me with an old weirdo that seems halfway into his grave already, brother?” he muttered, wishing he could punch Prowl in the face. He had known the mech was the one who had him sent there from the moment his orders were given to him. No Wreckers, no Elite Guard active service. Just a badge of honor and a transfer in a prestigious but extremely boring, safe post.
A chuckle resounded behind him, making Smokescreen wince as he looked over his shoulder at the old mech he was supposed to protect. Not really insult him behind his back, especially as he moved silently enough for his wings to struggle picking up on it.
"Don't worry kid." Alpha Trion chuckled softly again, looking at his probably guilty expression. Smokescreen was not really mad at the old archivist after all. "It's not the first nor the second time I've heard these kinds of comments. And that sounded like some necessary venting. Feel better?"
Smokescreen sighed, relaxing and turning fully to face his old companion in that life of reclusion. The mech too would probably feel like a prisoner of boredom if he wasn't always reading something.
'Yeah, I do." He said quietly shaking his doorwings like to chase away any thoughts about his brother. He wished it was that easy." i'm just still bored. "
Alpha Trion chuckled softly, and came close touching his shoulder. Smokescreen didn't expect it and just blinked at him, for that weirdly kind gesture. He was just a guard, he was some old important guy or something, he gathered that much in all that time there.
" I can't get you the action you seek, but if you're bored I can get you some interesting things to read." he proposed. "It's better than wandering here and shooting at glitchmice going about their day."
Smokescreen winced, realizing the mech heard him even though he tried to do it away from the main hall where Alpha Trion spent his days reading who knows what. He usually wasn't a reader type, but he guessed he couldn't just refuse an offer of kindness instead of a write up for unprofessional behavior.
'Alright.' He murmured softly. "I would like that."
—
Alpha Trion was really not a bad mech, Smokescreen had arrived to that conclusion. And as he looked back at the interesting war strategy datapad the mech had loaned to him, he was starting to also reconsider the boring aspect. This was nice, being sprawled on a chair, the old mech just typing away at his console with a soothing rhythm. It was way better than before, when he just spent his time wandering alone and cursing his brother out.
He would never thank him, but at least he was learning something.
"Smokescreen."
The young mech looked up, curious as the old Alpha rarely called him out. He mostly just started rambling about the Prime or some other topic unprompted, without bothering to call for his attention first. He frowned then, seeing the mech's usually relaxed expression had darkened.
'Trion?' He questioned, subspacing the datapad and getting up, tense as the mech had an hearing that was finer than his own doorwings. He started taking out his blasters
"They're coming, youngling. '
And a moment later, Smokescreen heard it and saw it. As the wall in front of him, the one that was part of the massive facade, just crumbled. Seekers grinning as they landed, their red optics bright. Their null rays charged, aiming at the old mech beside him.
"Alpha-" he started, ready to step in front of him, then the name connected to the blue and red figure in the middle caught up with him.
Starscream.
Run.
The second word wasn't from his voice. Prowl's command whipped through him like a lightning strike. Smokescreen looked at the old mech, fighting that new instinct with horror as it was not him wanting this, he didn't want to run.
-No, no I am not leaving him. - he thought, but his legs were already moving, his helm turning to look at the hall that brought to the exit automatically, forcing him to stop looking at his old mentor. Horror welled up in his spark, as he felt like a drone, his frame running heedless of any internal cries. He couldn't do anything. Not even a sound.
He could only cry, silent, as he heard laughter vanishing in the distance, no one paying him any mind as their helpless target never made a sound Smokescreen could hear. Then, just as he arrived to the door, weapons went off.
He couldn't even call the old mech's name, as his frame brought him out of the burning capital.
—
His legs stopped moving only when complete silence surrounded him. Smoke raising from the city that had been Iacon, and that from his position, high on the hills surrounding it, looked like it was on fire. Bombed, like Praxus before it, left in ruins. And the young praxian could only watch, as helpless as when he was a youngling running from his burning home city. His legs locking in place every time he tried to move toward the pit.
"Prowl, why?" he whispered, tears welling up in his optics. "Why did you do this to me?"
He wept, during the destruction of Iacon. Wept for the loss of Alpha Trion, whom he left to die in the most horrible ways, and for the loss of the last intact city of Cybertron as he watched every building fall in the dust.
Then, it was over. As no noise could be heard in the destroyed city Smokescreen managed to turn away. Fists clenching as he went wherever that road would bring him, he couldn't even focus on the Decepticons who personally destroyed everything he had known.
His processor just played Prowl's actions in a loop. His brother did something to him, and before he could do anything else, he had to understand what that was and reverse it.
Even if he had to kill him in the process, he wouldn't care. And as the laughter from the three seekers played in loop following him in his trek in that broken world, he started thinking he'd enjoy it.
—
Many decavorns later, in an organic planet far away from Cybertron, an once majestic frame laid in the rubble. Severe injuries covering the blue and red armor as he could just watch the energon slowly ooze out with no strength or resources to patch himself up.
At least his comrades left, but as the leader looked at the starry sky, he couldn't help but ask himself what it'd be of them all. Were they doomed?
Did they just lose the war?