Transformers Prime: Project Predacon

Into the Mind

"It's going to be dark when the storm goes out, and you need weapons of some sort." Summer looked around the two of them, squinting into the rolling darkness. Smokescreen watched with awe as the immaterial ground under his pedes began to truly materialize into the natural ground of Cybertron, their home planet. The darkness seemed to let up just slightly, but dimmed again as Summer let out a short gasp, as if she was holding her breath. A thick, one-handed sword shimmered into existence in front of him as Smokescreen watched with dismay once Summer fell to her knees, her shoulders rolling forward with exhaustion. Leaving the sword on the ground, Smokescreen stepped toward the fallen Prime, reaching for her elbow to help her up. His servo passed through her like she was a cloud and he pulled away, realizing there was nothing he could do to help.

"I just need a moment to gather my strength. I will get your message out, but I fear the rest is up to you, friend." Her gaze met his, and Smokescreen finally realized what sort of responsibility laid up his shoulders. She fell limp before him again, breathing deeply and methodically to ready herself. Smokescreen turned then, reaching carefully for the sword that lay upon the uneven ground. He touched it tentatively, before firmly grasping the hilt, surprised to even hold it in his servos. Throwing the sword above his head, he let out a shout of determination and joy before starting on his journey into the mind of Seasonal Prime. 

The castle loomed before him. It seemed old and lonely as he walked closer and closer. Not many things scared Smokescreen, but this building brought a terrible feeling of doom upon him. The bot didn't even have to touch the doors before they slid open silently, the doors far too tall for a regular bot. The opening scene before him brought true fear to life within his spark. There were Decepticons swarming the pristine room, damaging pillars with their blasts. Partially armoured Autobots fought back on the far side of the room, heavily outnumbered and fighting a losing battle. Smokescreen wanted to dart into the room and save the day, but something was stopping him. The room was eerily silent, no noise came from the shouting Decepticons, the dying Autobots, the blasts of projectiles hitting walls and husks of sparkless bodies. After a moment of watching the battle, a new scene caught his attention. A smaller Autobot stood watching wide eyed around a corner, the refection of battle caught in his bright, blue optics. Smokescreen's vision tunneled as he stared at an exact copy of himself, completely taken aback by what seemed to be a memory of his own, just watched from a different view. His copy charged into battle with a vigor that showed how clueless and inexperienced he was. Smokescreen watched, aghast as his younger self took every risk there was, leaping into the heat of the battle and doing what he truly thought was his best to knock back the incoming Decepticons. Another figure approached the room from the same corner the carbon copy appeared from, this one taller, and much, much older. Recognizing Alpha Trion, Smokescreen took a few halting steps towards the battle, passing several dying Decepticons and others that were still fighting. Alpha Trion battled his way towards Smokescreen's duplicate copy, finally reaching him through the heat of battle. Witnessing the events that happened next made Smokescreen feel sick, but watch he did. Alpha Trion raised his elbow high and smashed the younger Smokescreen in the back of the helm, knocking his former self out instantly. At the same moment, a shout came from across the room. A female Autobot lead a small victory charge against the last of the Decepticons. Still vastly outnumbered, Smokescreen tore his vision from himself as Alpha Trion dragged the body he knocked out across the room, disappearing from view. The lead charge of the Autobot group all shouted silently in unison, the Decepticons missing the events that had just happened to Smokescreen's copy. The female Autobot raised fist in front of her and a sudden explosion of ice engulfed the front line of the charging Decepticons, taking out at least a dozen of the first wave. Blasters flashed silently in Smokescreens direction, but he took no cover, entranced by the memory that he realized was not truly his own. Green optics stared down from where the Autobot stood and Smokescreen finally realized who it was. Summer stood on the front of the line, swinging a thick, one handed sword. Each swing was a killing blow to the next assailant, and every retaliation was blocked expertly; the cannon blasts were dodged like it was second nature to her, she truly seemed in her element in this battle. Smokescreen watched as the Autobots behind her fell in battle, and yet she still raised the sword every time to meet a new enemy, crushing the trained Decepticons like they were still sparklings in their metal womb.