Chapter Text
Air rushed past me as I felt my body contort and stretch in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Everything was loud, the world was flashes of colour that quickly sped by as I descended. God, I felt sick.
Just what was happening to me?
My brain was running a mile a minute, yet no thoughts remained. Was I screaming? Was I bleeding? I couldn’t tell.
Pain was everywhere, and strange symbols flooded my head. The words are familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time?
Finally, everything went quiet.
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“Ah fuck..” a white mech hissed, “Holy shit feels like I had dope and a bottle of tequila at the same time” his servo massaged his helm where an ache took up residence.
Huh? What were these strange words in his head?
“Servo..?” He murmured his eyes slowly opening— ‘onlining’ some part of his brain told him— and saw the state of his hands, “Oh.. OH!? WHAT THE FUCK!?”
His azure-blue optics widened (the hell is an optic?) as he stared in disbelief at the strange hand before him. He opened and closed it slowly, realising in dawning horror that this metallic hand was his.
“This— this has got to be a dream..” he choked out, even his voice sounded weird! It was now deeper, with a strange, static tune that rumbled through his body. “Yes, yes, I probably just took something strong and am now having a weird fever dream or something”, he spoke, trying to convince himself that his strange predicament was nothing short of a drug-induced dream.
“Alright, Ezra, let’s take things slowly”, the white mech— Ezra— huffed to himself.
He looked down, assessing his white frame. It was a clean, glossy white with a large teal streak running diagonally across (what his brain thoughtfully supplied) his ‘chassis’. It was followed by a thinner light blue stripe. The same stripes were present on his shoulders, which had a fucking gun attached to them!? Below where his chassis ended was a black ‘protoform’ as his midsection, and are those heels?
Ripping his eyes (‘optics’, his brain corrected) away from his legs, Ezra surveyed his surroundings, noting the destruction around him. Thankfully, his brain wasn’t creative enough to conjure some alien planet for his dream, given how he could see trees and some mountains, but why put him in a desert?
“You! Why are you sitting around like a lost cyberhound!” A shrill voice called out from behind Ezra. The white mech felt something snap shut on his face, and suddenly his vision went red, followed by some weird symbols onlining, which he figured out he could actually read!
“Did your audials get destroyed during the battle!? Respond!” God give him patience, he might just beat the fucker behind him.
He conjured up his inner college pushover, and he begrudgingly responded, “I’m just... assessing damages! Give me a moment!” He turned his head and saw the fucker he almost jumped.. is that another robot? This one had a black helm, red chassis with white sections and blue arms, followed by silver wings?
“Well, hurry up, Lord Megatron wishes to speak with the survivors”, he rolled his red optics as he walked away with a noticeable limp. Ezra seriously began contemplating just what he took exactly to get a fever dream like this.
Ezra slowly stood up; his body felt light yet heavy. He wished he had something to hold onto as he tried standing in this unfamiliar body. He felt something move on his back and turned his helm to only be greeted by the sight of wings! They were slowly moving when Ezra did, and it took him a second to realise they were helping him balance himself.
He finally stood up and began inspecting his wings, moving them up and down. Man, did they feel real. They were white like the rest of him but had the same teal and blue stripes.
Ezra was still marvelling at his newly acquired wings when his vision was suddenly flooded with messages of ‘Report!’ followed by a set of coordinates. His eyes had to blink (‘reset’ that same part of his brain told him) to adjust to the sudden barrage of messages.
“Eh?” He muttered; he didn't know how to use coordinates except in Minecraft. Looking around him, he noticed more robots, all damaged and all heading in the same direction. Guess that's where he was supposed to go?
Ridding himself of the messages from his vision, he began following the group. They were all different in appearance, and talking in what he can only assume are curses towards whoever damaged them. The only thing they all had in common was some strange purple insignias they had in different parts of their bodies.
Ezra seriously hopes he isn't in some weird cult.
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Ezra should never be allowed to hope again.
Looking at who he assumes is the ‘Lord Megatron’ that one winged robot was talking about, Ezra could help but feel a sense of unease as he talked about “Being deceived” and how “The Prime is nothing but a coward like the rest”. This man was rambling like a lunatic, yet those around him were eating it up!
Ezra was confused about why his brain was conjuring up this weird dream. Couldn't it have taken him somewhere nice?
Looking behind the rambling, crazy robot, he noticed three others. A purple cyclops mech whose single optic (you happy now brain?) was flickering— not a good sign—, an imposing dark blue mech and that same flyer from early who had a noticeable scowl.
Just as Ezra began easing into the background, everyone began yelling, “ALL HAIL MEGATRON!”
Ezra glanced around, noticing that everyone was yelling with their arms raised. Not wanting to seem out of place, he copied them with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm (seriously, he didn't know what this Megatron was talking about).
When everyone was done yelling, they began splitting off into smaller groups. “Good God, what now?” Ezra managed to mumble before being whisked away in the crowd.