Rodimus staggered, barely keeping himself upright. His entire frame burned with agony, energon leaking freely from deep wounds, pooling beneath him with every unsteady step. His normally bright paint was dulled with grime and damage, his once-proud flames marred by deep gouges. His servos trembled as he clutched at the wound in his side, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. His HUD flickered with warnings—critical damage, systems failing—but none of it compared to the raw, twisting pain in his spark.

Someone on his team had done this. Someone he trusted.

The betrayal was worse than the physical pain. It had been quick—too quick for him to react. A shot to his back, slicing through armor like it was nothing. He had turned, expecting an enemy, only to meet a familiar face. No hesitation. No regret. Just cold calculation before they left him behind.

Rodimus had always fought for his team, bled for them, risked everything to keep them safe. And now? They had discarded him like he was nothing.

He staggered again, his knee hitting the ground hard. His vision blurred, his vents struggling to cycle properly. He couldn’t stop here. He had to keep moving. But his frame was failing, his strength slipping with every sparkbeat.

His hands pressed weakly against the ground, but he couldn’t push himself up. The pain was overwhelming, drowning him. His optics flickered, the world darkening at the edges.

Then—footsteps.

He tried to move, to lift his head, but his body refused. He barely had the strength to keep his optics online. His spark pulsed weakly, struggling against the inevitable.

For a fleeting moment, hope sparked within him.

Then the darkness took him.