The battlefield was chaos. Blaster fire streaked through the air, the ground quaked beneath your feet, and the metallic scent of war clung to every breath. You fought with precision, calculated and calm—until the worst possible thing happened.

Your weapon broke.

Not a jam. Not a misfire. It shattered in your grasp, a useless heap of scrap falling to the ground.

You barely had time to process before a massive Decepticon lunged at you, energon-coated claws ready to tear through your armor.

Your optics darted around—weapon, weapon, weapon—then locked onto the closest thing. A pipe. Rusted, dented, but sturdy.

With no hesitation, you grabbed it and swung.

CRACK.

The impact was earth-shattering. The Decepticon’s helm made a sickening clang against the metal, their optics flickering wildly before—

They went flying.

Not stumbling. Not falling. Flying.

Their body went limp as their head rocketed into the sky, disappearing into the stratosphere like a malfunctioning missile.

For a moment, the battlefield stopped.

Autobots. Decepticons. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

You stood there, pipe in hand, watching the lifeless body crumple to the ground.

Slowly, your shoulders slumped.

“…Oops?”

Optimus Prime, who had very clearly seen everything, turned away. His vents hitched—was that a sigh? A muffled laugh? His broad shoulders trembled just slightly, as if suppressing something.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the distance—

Sideswipe absolutely lost it.