Chapter Text
Log 1,
My name is Strazas but I don’t think you care who I am. All you want to know is how the world ended… so where do I start? Much has happened in the past year, so it would be best to start with basic information.
A static sigh escaped her voice box as frustration heated her helm. She’s running out of time, yet what she seeks stays just out of her grasp.
She subconsciously counted down the klicks as her metallic fingertips scavenged through the chest cavity of the once ‘almighty’ Cybertronians. His energon stained her metal blue, as she ripped hunks of wiring.
Her old self would have been disgusted with such an act of disturbing a corpse but a robot shouldn’t be considered as a living creator. It had been programmed to act a certain way, just like A.I., It couldn’t feel pain the same way organics could.
The count in the back of her helm hit zero. “Scrap.”
Rushing she shoves the scrap pieces of the Cybertronians into a leather satchel, that she modified with a metal lining to keep the scraps from punching holes into the bottom of the bag. It had been an easy fix and kept her supplies from falling out when she had to run.
A hush echoed across the fallen city, a whisper of danger. One that she wouldn’t take lightly.
Wrenching the bag over her shoulders, she sprints down the street. Veskryn city had been viciously bombed for several days, in an attempt to kill everything on the land. She had to say, they had done a great job. Once proud skyscrapers that scratch the clouds had toppled over like a cruel game of dominoes and the once busy roads lay in disarray.
The metal in her frame followed her command to move forward but the uneven ground caused her to stumble. The fabric bag on her back loudly clanks as the scrap pieces of metal bounce, her knees slam into the ground. Too, loud .
A harsh clicking echoed through the hallow buildings, her optics widened as her arms scrambled to push her body from the ground.
She had been bound to attract unwanted attention, whether she wanted it or not.
Shadows bend as they make way for a single Cybertronian. The large bot used all its strength to haul its frame forward, thick black sludge dripps from his mouth as he shrills with glee of prey.
No one knows where the virus originated but we all saw how fast it ravaged the galaxy.
Fear ripped through her system like a wrong note played against her audio receptors, it had been loud enough to drown out common sense. Her pedes slid against gravel as her limps desperately flailed.
Remember, Strazas. Every problem has a solution, you just have to figure it out.
Rolling over to her back, she raises her wrist into the air. Her arm shook violently, forcing her to hold it with her other arm. The wrist blasters provided a large area of effect, allowing her not to worry much about her aim.
Apart of the wrist gauntlet opening up releasing a sonic pulse, the force knocked her shoulder into the concrete with a loud crackle. The thin metallic ribbons that connected to her back ache made a whimper escape her voice-box.
The infected let out a frustrated hiss as it blindly stumbled to the ground, his digits clawing furiously at its helm. It wasn’t a lethal weapon but meant to incapacitate an opponent, giving her a fighting chance to make a run for it.
Focussing on each step, she dashes into one of the nearby buildings. The infected hurtled itself forward, slamming its body into the walls as his limbs scrambled to get traction.
She made a mental note to change the settings for more effectiveness, instead of stunning it would be better to knock them out or even kill them. It would be a handy upgrade if she survives.
Outrunning him wasn’t an option, she lacked speed and endurance. Fighting had been a laughing thought. Leaving her with the only choice to hide and hope the infected get distracted with something else. The building had been built for officer workers, leaving the hallways narrow and cramped. The infected shoulders scraped against the walls as it struggled to get his bulky build through the passageway.
His clawed hand swips at the air and Strazas could feel it glazes her ribbons. Sending a chill down her system, knowing how close behind the infected is.
Rounding the corner the infected slammed into the wall, giving Strazas a chance to dip into one of the side rooms.
The place had been ripped to shreds, crips papers littered the ground while furniture had been tossed around the room.
Ducking underneath one of the fallen desks just in klicks the infected rounded the doorframe.
The infected couldn’t slip his bulky build through the entice forcing him to crawl on all fours. He dragged his claws across the ground as he stocked the room, optics on a swivel for the slightest sign of life.
He seemed to be intrigued by this game of cat and mouse, breaking the thick silence with a low hum of clicks.
The thin ribbons wrapped around her frame as if to cradle her shacking body, to soth her fear. Hushing her frame from rattling.
His claw smacked into a chair sending it flying into the wall, it burst into thousands of wooden splinters on impact. Her body flinched, her hands cupping her mouth smothering a scream.
Strazas could feel him practically breathing down her neck as he inches ever closer. His claws draped on either side of her frame, she could hear crackling as the tips dug into the wood.
I don’t want to die.
The infected pushed off the desk, sending her frame into the wall with a loud thud. She braced for the pain of her body to be shredded piece by piece.
Metal screamed as it bended to a greater force and so did a vocalizer ring out in anguish. Not mine . It hadn’t been a staticly mess of sound that made her voice gruff.
Only a few have prevailed, the unlucky ones…
Fear blinding her optics faded, letting her observe her surroundings.
Her frame had been tossed across the room like some rag doll, every bolt and screw ached but she seemed to have stayed in one piece.
Energon leaked onto the white tiles as a creature screamed in agony as the infected teeth sank into a metallic shell.
Has she been scared senseless that she didn’t notice another living threat that hadn’t even a foot from herself?
His blue optics trapped her own as he silently plied for help.
There was nothing she could do, Strazas could only crawl her shacking frame behind the wreckage. And cover her audio receptors while waiting for the torcher to end.
The infected took its time, making sure that there had been nothing left. Not a fair twitch or a buzz before it stalked out of the room, leaving her in the far too silent room.
It felt like internally before she plucked up the courage to move. Slowly she stood up testing her frame for any damage, a few dents and cuts but nothing she couldn’t fix with some time and a welder.
She’d been lucky, if the Cybertronians weren’t there it would have been her helm that rolled across the floor.
It took her a klick before she could bring herself to look at the dead Cybertronians. He’d been shredded beyond recognition, he looked more like a weird art piece than a once-transforming truck.
Engon dropped low in her tank as she kept over the dead while her digits began to scavenge what little remains.
and I’m not sure if you could consider us still living creatures.