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Description
As Sixshot nears, Zeta reflects on his brief term as Prime.

The Reaper
by Novastorm

As the smoke rose from the ruins of the city, Zeta Prime looked to the setting sun on his left. In the distance, muffled by wrecked buildings and endless columns of black spiraling into the air, he could hear weapons fire and battle cries. It had not been long since he took the mantle of Prime of the Autobot faction. In that short time he had witnessed, sometimes firsthand, the Decepticons claiming territories at an accelerated rate versus the Prime before him and Autobots had been slaughtered by the thousands.

He had failed.

Turning to the squad leader who was kneeling next to him barking orders into the radio gear, the Autobot Commander ordered, "Fall back." He turned and shook his head as his gaze fell to an offlined soldier slumped over a barricade. Taking in the carnage around him, Zeta continued, "Give the order. Abandon the city. Rendezvous at the shelter near Iacon. I won't be joining you."

"But sir—"

"I'll cover your escape from the Phase Sixer as long as I can."

Phase Six mechanoids were the most dangerous known on Cybertron. They were designed to wield the most powerful weapons and imbued with skills to counter nearly any attack or defense. Physically imposing by design they also served to demoralize troops before their arrival. Some were registered with the acronym STAG, or Solo Transformer Assault Group, with multiple modes to serve their missions.

The squad leader stood, slung his rifle, and placed his hand on his Commander's shoulder, "That's our job. The commandos will be the last to leave once you're safe, Prime."

"I'm no Prime. I've already lost everything the Prime before me fought so hard to achieve." Sternly, he turned and commanded, "Don't question my orders, Skidplate. Go!"

The subordinate nodded and gave the order to all Autobots in the battle zone. He transformed and trundled along as fast as his armored vehicle form would take him. Others flew overhead as they retreated.

A black starfighter burst through the clouds of smoke a few clicks away. It dipped down to near ground level rushing toward the Prime. The Autobot stood fast, cannons at his sides. Transforming to robot mode and striking a landing in the broken concrete, a Decepticon warrior emerged with gray wings flipped up on his back and green accents among the panels of black and lavender.

"Zeta," the Decepticon hissed.

"Sixshot," the Commander replied.

Cocking his dual rifles and raising them to optic level, the dark living weapon asked, "So are you ready for the void?"

Unexpectedly, the Prime turned away from his would-be assassin and set his weapons on an overturned supply crate. He righted an overturned chair near the battle planning table and motioned to another seat for his visitor, "Join me. Please sit."

Sixshot scanned the Autobot for other weapons and found none. As he set his two rifles on the crate they dwarfed Zeta's hardware. He shrugged, "Why not?" Confident he could overcome the Autobot if he were to try anything, the Phase Six Decepticon sat down across from his host.

Never shy, but always on guard, Sixshot admitted, "This wasn't what I was expecting."

"I suppose not. Thank you for not pursuing my men."

"They don't concern me."

"Then you were sent to kill me."

"Yes."

Opening a bottle of energon and producing two chalices, Zeta asked, "Would you grant an old Autobot a last audience?"

"Gladly."

As he poured the energon in the chalices, he offered one to Sixshot who accepted. Holding the glass near his chin Zeta commented, "You made quite a mockery of my defenses today. I see you have barely a nick in your paint."

"In your short reign, strategy has not been one of your strengths."

Prime nodded, "That is why I am allowing the Matrix to be passed onto someone else."

"I don't register its energy on you. So you knew before you came out today this would be your last?"

"Indeed. I had an epiphany."

"What's that?"

"I awoke from the CR chamber today realizing that my time was just an interim. Mine is a window between great Primes. I unfortunately am not one of them. I accept it."

"Do you?"

"You should realize something too," Zeta offered.

"What's that?"

"Despite your efforts, your leader Megatron will take credit for my death."

"I don't need the limelight."

"Really? That's not like other Decepticons I've known."

"I'm nothing like other Decepticons."

Intrigued, Zeta leaned over the table, "What does drive you, Sixshot? Power? Knowledge?"

"The hunt."

"As Megatron's assassin, between assignments, what if there's nothing to hunt?"

Sixshot looked at Zeta from under his helmet. After a moment he answered. "Then there is nothing."

Zeta had another epiphany. He looked at the mechanoid sitting across from him and instead of feeling a connection, trying to find a common ground, all he could feel was darkness. A void. Unfeeling. He was sitting across from living death.

"Does life mean nothing to you?

No answer.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Zeta shifted in his seat, "I have always prided myself in the connections I have made with other Cybertronians and other life forms. We are all connected in the vastness of space and changed and enriched forever by it. Life is in abundance, Sixshot. I have made friends and lost them. Made enemies into allies and vice versa. There are so many souls out there. I could learn so much more. But, there is a flip side to this coin."

Sixshot awaited Zeta's next comment as they sipped their energon.

Zeta continued, "My spark will soon cross over and I will find another plane of existence. I'll be as a protoform again in a land of elders! Doesn't that make you curious?"

"I don't believe in an afterlife," Sixshot stated flatly. "I live the void."

"Then I mourn your existence."

"No need."

Realizing there was no connection to be made from this…empty robot, Zeta took one last swallow of energon and slammed his chalice down, "You must feel something, Sixshot?! You must believe something!"

Sixshot took a deep breath, "I honor my opponents."

"To what end? You can't be that hollow inside!"

"Until I end."

Zeta Prime was flabbergasted. He didn't know how to respond. Looking into those ruby optics he began to feel nothing himself. He felt alone. Although they sat a mere table's width apart, there was an endless gulf of space between them.

Standing from his position, Prime looked to the horizon. The sun has nearly set. Smoke filled the air. He had stalled enough. He turned to Sixshot as the Decepticon stood and picked up his weapons.

Zeta questioned, "Why did you indulge me?"

"Because after you, there is nothing for me," the Decepticon stated, his focus on preparing his weapons.

Zeta cocked his head to the side, "So you don't like that feeling do you?"

Sixshot did not answer.

"You are still a mystery to me Sixshot. If I had the time I think I would like to know you better."

"You wouldn't."

"I wouldn't like to know you?" Zeta quizzed.

"No, Zeta. You would never know me."

"But in this brief time you have given me a glimpse into yourself."

"Only because you won't be able to share it with anyone else."

Again Zeta found himself without a response. But he knew what the Decepticon had spoken was true. Extending his hand for a shake, Zeta offered, "Sixshot, the honor was mine."

Sixshot graciously shook the Autobot's hand.

As he turned, Zeta made one last whisper to himself before accepting his fate, "May the Covenant of Primus protect my Autobots and may they forgive my failures. And may the fates find a soul for my assassin."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. A prayer. Are you prepared to help me along my journey to the other side, Sixshot?" He began to walk forward, his back to the STAG.

Cocking his hypersonic concussion blaster and leveling it at the back of Zeta's helmet, the Decepticon replied, "After you, Zeta. I hope you find what you're looking for in the great junkyard in the sky."

End of Line

Description
As Sixshot nears, Zeta reflects on his brief term as Prime.

The Reaper
by Novastorm

As the smoke rose from the ruins of the city, Zeta Prime looked to the setting sun on his left. In the distance, muffled by wrecked buildings and endless columns of black spiraling into the air, he could hear weapons fire and battle cries. It had not been long since he took the mantle of Prime of the Autobot faction. In that short time he had witnessed, sometimes firsthand, the Decepticons claiming territories at an accelerated rate versus the Prime before him and Autobots had been slaughtered by the thousands.

He had failed.

Turning to the squad leader who was kneeling next to him barking orders into the radio gear, the Autobot Commander ordered, "Fall back." He turned and shook his head as his gaze fell to an offlined soldier slumped over a barricade. Taking in the carnage around him, Zeta continued, "Give the order. Abandon the city. Rendezvous at the shelter near Iacon. I won't be joining you."

"But sir—"

"I'll cover your escape from the Phase Sixer as long as I can."

Phase Six mechanoids were the most dangerous known on Cybertron. They were designed to wield the most powerful weapons and imbued with skills to counter nearly any attack or defense. Physically imposing by design they also served to demoralize troops before their arrival. Some were registered with the acronym STAG, or Solo Transformer Assault Group, with multiple modes to serve their missions.

The squad leader stood, slung his rifle, and placed his hand on his Commander's shoulder, "That's our job. The commandos will be the last to leave once you're safe, Prime."

"I'm no Prime. I've already lost everything the Prime before me fought so hard to achieve." Sternly, he turned and commanded, "Don't question my orders, Skidplate. Go!"

The subordinate nodded and gave the order to all Autobots in the battle zone. He transformed and trundled along as fast as his armored vehicle form would take him. Others flew overhead as they retreated.

A black starfighter burst through the clouds of smoke a few clicks away. It dipped down to near ground level rushing toward the Prime. The Autobot stood fast, cannons at his sides. Transforming to robot mode and striking a landing in the broken concrete, a Decepticon warrior emerged with gray wings flipped up on his back and green accents among the panels of black and lavender.

"Zeta," the Decepticon hissed.

"Sixshot," the Commander replied.

Cocking his dual rifles and raising them to optic level, the dark living weapon asked, "So are you ready for the void?"

Unexpectedly, the Prime turned away from his would-be assassin and set his weapons on an overturned supply crate. He righted an overturned chair near the battle planning table and motioned to another seat for his visitor, "Join me. Please sit."

Sixshot scanned the Autobot for other weapons and found none. As he set his two rifles on the crate they dwarfed Zeta's hardware. He shrugged, "Why not?" Confident he could overcome the Autobot if he were to try anything, the Phase Six Decepticon sat down across from his host.

Never shy, but always on guard, Sixshot admitted, "This wasn't what I was expecting."

"I suppose not. Thank you for not pursuing my men."

"They don't concern me."

"Then you were sent to kill me."

"Yes."

Opening a bottle of energon and producing two chalices, Zeta asked, "Would you grant an old Autobot a last audience?"

"Gladly."

As he poured the energon in the chalices, he offered one to Sixshot who accepted. Holding the glass near his chin Zeta commented, "You made quite a mockery of my defenses today. I see you have barely a nick in your paint."

"In your short reign, strategy has not been one of your strengths."

Prime nodded, "That is why I am allowing the Matrix to be passed onto someone else."

"I don't register its energy on you. So you knew before you came out today this would be your last?"

"Indeed. I had an epiphany."

"What's that?"

"I awoke from the CR chamber today realizing that my time was just an interim. Mine is a window between great Primes. I unfortunately am not one of them. I accept it."

"Do you?"

"You should realize something too," Zeta offered.

"What's that?"

"Despite your efforts, your leader Megatron will take credit for my death."

"I don't need the limelight."

"Really? That's not like other Decepticons I've known."

"I'm nothing like other Decepticons."

Intrigued, Zeta leaned over the table, "What does drive you, Sixshot? Power? Knowledge?"

"The hunt."

"As Megatron's assassin, between assignments, what if there's nothing to hunt?"

Sixshot looked at Zeta from under his helmet. After a moment he answered. "Then there is nothing."

Zeta had another epiphany. He looked at the mechanoid sitting across from him and instead of feeling a connection, trying to find a common ground, all he could feel was darkness. A void. Unfeeling. He was sitting across from living death.

"Does life mean nothing to you?

No answer.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Zeta shifted in his seat, "I have always prided myself in the connections I have made with other Cybertronians and other life forms. We are all connected in the vastness of space and changed and enriched forever by it. Life is in abundance, Sixshot. I have made friends and lost them. Made enemies into allies and vice versa. There are so many souls out there. I could learn so much more. But, there is a flip side to this coin."

Sixshot awaited Zeta's next comment as they sipped their energon.

Zeta continued, "My spark will soon cross over and I will find another plane of existence. I'll be as a protoform again in a land of elders! Doesn't that make you curious?"

"I don't believe in an afterlife," Sixshot stated flatly. "I live the void."

"Then I mourn your existence."

"No need."

Realizing there was no connection to be made from this…empty robot, Zeta took one last swallow of energon and slammed his chalice down, "You must feel something, Sixshot?! You must believe something!"

Sixshot took a deep breath, "I honor my opponents."

"To what end? You can't be that hollow inside!"

"Until I end."

Zeta Prime was flabbergasted. He didn't know how to respond. Looking into those ruby optics he began to feel nothing himself. He felt alone. Although they sat a mere table's width apart, there was an endless gulf of space between them.

Standing from his position, Prime looked to the horizon. The sun has nearly set. Smoke filled the air. He had stalled enough. He turned to Sixshot as the Decepticon stood and picked up his weapons.

Zeta questioned, "Why did you indulge me?"

"Because after you, there is nothing for me," the Decepticon stated, his focus on preparing his weapons.

Zeta cocked his head to the side, "So you don't like that feeling do you?"

Sixshot did not answer.

"You are still a mystery to me Sixshot. If I had the time I think I would like to know you better."

"You wouldn't."

"I wouldn't like to know you?" Zeta quizzed.

"No, Zeta. You would never know me."

"But in this brief time you have given me a glimpse into yourself."

"Only because you won't be able to share it with anyone else."

Again Zeta found himself without a response. But he knew what the Decepticon had spoken was true. Extending his hand for a shake, Zeta offered, "Sixshot, the honor was mine."

Sixshot graciously shook the Autobot's hand.

As he turned, Zeta made one last whisper to himself before accepting his fate, "May the Covenant of Primus protect my Autobots and may they forgive my failures. And may the fates find a soul for my assassin."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. A prayer. Are you prepared to help me along my journey to the other side, Sixshot?" He began to walk forward, his back to the STAG.

Cocking his hypersonic concussion blaster and leveling it at the back of Zeta's helmet, the Decepticon replied, "After you, Zeta. I hope you find what you're looking for in the great junkyard in the sky."

End of Line