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Jetfire had gotten used to the smell of death.
Made sense, the Autobots had nowhere to bury their dead and their Decepticon killers were more interested in displaying their kills rather than disposing of them properly. As he walked, dead bodies littered the streets, rusting and rotting. He found the alley he was looking for and left the street, shuffling through the small space before finding a small, abandoned building.
The building itself was nothing remarkable. Jetfire couldn’t tell what it was before the war. Maybe a shop, maybe an office or business of sorts. It really didn’t matter what it was; what mattered was whowas inside.
Red Alert.
The one death that Jetfire would never get used to. His body hung from a rope attached to his neck, tied to an exposed pipe in the ceiling. His optics were dark and he was just starting to rust.
Red Alert left a while ago; he didn’t tell Elita where he was going. One patient asked him where he was going and he said out for a bit. Yet he didn’t return. He wasn’t answering his comm, they couldn’t find any trace of him around the theater. If he were going out on patrol, he didn’t grab any first aid kits or any weaponry. Just. Left.
It wasn’t until Jetfire was out on patrol and decided to look in some of the buildings for energon did he get his answer of where Red Alert went.
Initially, he thought the Decepticons did this. Instead of just shooting or slashing him down, they hung him. But things soon weren’t adding up.
He was not out in the open, to be displayed with the rest of the casualties. He was hidden away. Most of the Decepticons were fliers; if they dragged Red Alert through the alley, they would have the same troubles Jetfire had plus a captive Autobot.
If they were dragging him alive. Perhaps, they killed him and set up the hanging after he was gone.
But looking at Red’s body, there was nothing to suggest he had been attacked. No wounds, no dripping energon, nothing.
In fact, right behind his body was a small crate. Suggesting that he stepped up on it before he was hung.
For the first few days, Jetfire didn’t want to believe it. But the more he came over here and the more he thought about it…this was self inflicted.
Red Alert meant to do this.
Elita and the others didn’t know yet. Jetfire was still hung up in his own grief to tell them. It also hurt that this wasn’t murder. That no Decepticon found him while he was walking and killed him. That. That he-
Jetfire took a shaky breath and stepped closer to Red Alert’s body, swaying softly in the slight breeze being let in through the broken windows. His hand came up to the smaller bot’s face, cupping his cheek. It was cold to the touch. Jetfire wished he was able to touch it when he was alive.
Actually, Jetfire was regretting a lot of things. Regretting not talking to Red Alert enough, only admiring from a distance. Not giving him the space to talk. Maybe it would’ve prevented all of this.
Jetfire debated calling Elita. Calling her and saying he found Red Alert before making it seem like it was a murder. It hurt to think about damaging Red’s body, even after he was long gone.
He sighed and turned around, his hand leaving Red Alert’s face. He looked around the building. If he didn’t want anyone to find him, this was the place. Jetfire didn’t think to look here. He only came because he detected a weak energon reading. Which…turned out to be Red Alert…
There was no note. No nothing. One of Jetfire’s first thoughts was how could he do this to us? But the more he remembered, the more it looked like Red Alert had been planning to do this for a while. He made sure to teach everyone how to do basic first aid and surgery. He left behind dozens of notes of how to treat patients. He didn’t take anything with him, other than the rope.
He had come to terms with this a long time ago.
Still, so many questions that would likely never be answered. Confessions that would never be said aloud.
Jetfire sighed and walked out of the building. He never came in here for too long, scared that he was going to break down if he looked at Red Alert anymore. But he couldn’t just keep leaving Red Alert here. Yes, they didn’t really have any proper place to bury him. But it felt wrong every time he left.
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The fire was so big that despite being nighttime, it lit up the sky. Jetfire crashed into the streets below, his wings and engine damaged. He transformed back into root mode, his framing severely damaged from the explosion. His HUD was warning him of energon loss and imminent shutdown.
Despite the warning he walked toward the familiar alley and struggled to shuffle through. He limped towards the building, and as soon as he entered, he collapsed.
He was struggling to breathe, and didn’t want to think about moving. He looked up, finding Red Alert in front of him. He crawled as best as he could towards Red Alert, his vision never leaving his gaze.
This was close enough. He flopped down, his HUD now giving him a countdown before he shut down. He sighed a hard breath. He knew he would likely never wake up again. He would die here, in a tiny building, right beside Red Alert, who died much earlier.
Jetfire started laughing. It took him forever to actually piece together how Red Alert died. What would anyone think if they found him like this, his body in shambles, alongside a suicide? Would anyone think the deaths were correlated? Would someone think that he killed Red Alert, or Red Alert had killed him?
Whatever the case, no one would truly know what happened to either of them.
He smiled as he used whatever strength he had left to grab Red Alert’s hand, once cold and dead, but now warm and comforting during his last moments. He locked optics onto Red Alert as the countdown was to the last few seconds and his world went dark.