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Sometimes, Red Alert was glad that this sector’s power had been turned off. Less Decepticons came by anymore, and this part of the city had been under constant bombardment for the past cycles. Even before the war, it was never quiet. Makes sense, there was a theater in this area. Red Alert had been here a few times before the war.
Today, the streets were empty. Buildings had either collapsed or were on the brink of. The sky was a sickly gray and rubble littered the ground. But it was quiet. A quick moment of peace before heading back into the theater, where bots were either dead or the brink of.
Kind of like the buildings, in a funny way.
Red Alert came upon a certain part of the street, where a body was displayed. Gunshot and stabbing wounds covered the body. Dried energon clung to the plating like a fresh coat of paint. Agony was frozen all throughout. He knew this corpse. He knew this body. He knew it better than anyone. He only knew that because Jetfire confided in him one night.
A flagpole was stabbed right through Jetfire’s chassis, the Decepticon flag waving proudly. No doubt, Jetfire had been killed by his former brothers. Likely because of his defection. His treachery.
Grief boiled deep in Red Alert's core. Too many conflicting emotions, it felt like he was going to puke. He had dealt with dead bodies before, the smell of death was actually comforting to him in a weird, twisted way. It was just the fact it was Jetfire now.
He had repressed any emotion for so long, he couldn’t really express anything. He wasn't even sure if his faceplates even showed anything. In fact, it took him a while to realize he felt anything more for Jetfire, everything feeling like a vague dream.
It didn't seem real, it felt somewhat like a dream. A weird dream. One of those dreams where he would wake up, Jetfire still missing and he would decide to walk to the same place to find him all over again.
Jetfire was dead.
Jetfire…was dead.
Jetfire. Is. Dead.
Jetfire is dead.
Red Alert had to repeat it to himself, just to believe it. He knew that it wouldn't completely come over him until it was too late.
Speaking of too late, Red Alert heard some engines overheard. He was too caught up to notice that a rogue Decepticon was flying over the sector. Red Alert rushed to take cover before gunfire rang out, quite a number of blasts hitting him. He fell to the ground, energon slowly spilling out. He laid still as he sent a silent SOS to Elita, hoping the Decepticon would leave before she arrived.
The Decepticon landed and transformed, walking towards Red Alert. They picked him and examined him. He stayed very still, hoping to fool the Decepticon into thinking he was dead and leave. He heard a small chuckle, and soon, he was moving.
It was too late before Red Alert realized what was happening, and he felt something pierce his chassis. He waited until he heard the transformation sound and the sound of engines taking off. Then he opened his optics and stared right at the flagpole stabbed right through him. Below him, he felt Jetfire's chassis, once warm and strangely loving, now cold and dead.
With energon dripping out, he actually found some form of comfort with Jetfire's corpse. He was slowly dying on top of the only person that he would ever truly trust with his spark. Some twisted part of himself hoped that Elita would come too late, that he would be dead by the time she came over. He wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath of Optimus taking the Allspark of Cybertron, the constant death around. He could be with his lover once more, and now, forever.