Hopeless

Chapter 1

She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette~

You pushed a vent through your dermas a large tail of sickly pale smoke following.

Your burning ease of the pain of reality resting between your digits as you sat at the bar optics half-lidded.

You made a discontented grunt when an overly confident mech slipped into the spot beside you.

"Heyyyy Darling~" he purred in a drunken slur, "What's a prudy thing like you doing sitting here alone?~"

Your optics narrowed as you raised the e-cig to your derma taking a long invent of it. You let the cloud of smoke slip back out into the air passed your derma.

"Depends? How slowly do you want to offline?" You asked coldly looking at him from the corner of your optic

"Awe~" this mech was idiotic, "You mean offline slowly as in 'ave a nice long onlining? you do don't ya?~"

You twittled with the e-cig before slipping it between your index and middle digit. You fisted your servo around the butt of it glaring at the mech.

"Last chance." You growled

"My last chance to woo you?~"

That was it you jumped into action and pinned the mech down against the bar and jammed the still burning e-cig into his stupidly blue optic.

The mech screamed clawing the forearm on on his throat pipes the pines him in place. You pressed the cig in until your knuckles met his cheek plate.

You released the now burnt out e-cig leaving it jammed into his optic. You allowed him to scramble up and away gripping his optic.

You stood up and walked out pulling out another e-cig and pinning it between your denta as you walked. You did care about the wide frightened optics on you as you lifted your servos up and lit the mental-relief drug between your denta.

That only meant this is another bar you cant go to.

That's all.

~

You continued to walk illuminated by the soft blue glow of the e-cig hanging loosely in your derma  and the much harsher red, green, and yellow lights that of shops had begging for you to come in and pay currency for useless scrap.

It sickened you really.

How much of an ideal idealism the Autobots try to be. The shine and buff out the strong bright armor that is the elite guard.

The truest representation of what Autobots are.

While they failed in several places, like the street you walked in.

You spotted many homeless bots sitting around fires armor scuffed and chipped. It angered you more seeing dirty sparklings running about and playing.

And the Autobots had the audacity to say that they were the good guys.

Your derma twitched as you yanked your helm away from the sparklings playing in the street and continued to walk forward.

The world isn't as perfect as the Autobots want you to think. As they have fooled you to believe.

You shifted the e-cig to the other side of your derma gaze dull as you kept walking.

You yourself had quite the fall from glory. You could just imagine young bright you expanding your seams with "new" and "brilliant" ideas.

Now here you are reminiscing about the past. Remembering the War, missing it even.

The Great War, ah yes. Those were the days. There was not of this looking down upon scrap. None of this homeless and struggling to keep your sparklings online.

Everyone had a part, everyone who could hold a weapon was taught to fight, everyone who could weld in a straight line was taught to be a medic.

Anyone and everyone played a part. Everyone was strong.

Personally you missed the thrill of battle beside the brilliant war machine.

Executing his plans with vigor, with a since of purpose.

Loving him was like a drug.

Now he was only Primus knows where and you were left with a deflating hope that anything would get better.

And just like a drug, just like suddenly breaking off an addiction, it had detrimental consequences.

It hurt.

More and more everyday.

A loud demand, a hunger, for his love.

A demand that will never be filled.

You climbed the rickety stairs towards your slagged apartment.

You stopped at the note on the door just below that, a Philiustus Moranga... the flower from Betacron- 66 that.. that he said was yours.

You scrambled and pulled the note from the door optics wide.

"Dearest,
       We can't have a Queen leaving in a commoner's slagged village, now can we?"

You stared at the address... the signature, it caused your dermas to part and the e-cig to fall to the ground and bounce against the ground.

"-
Your king,
Megatron."