prologue -- who are you? who am i?

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✔️ Rewritten & Edited!

A lone Cybertronian laid upon a medical berth, unconscious. They were heavily injured, with scratches and dents all over their dark-colored frame, some of their armor torn away. The worst part was the Cybertronian's torn jaw – or lack thereof. All that remained of their jaw was jagged metal, and one of their optics hung out of its socket by a bundle of cables, useless. Their right servo was also gone, leaving nothing but patched circuits and cables. Outside of the room, a metallic blue Cybertronian with yellow optics and a white cape stared into the room, arms crossed and a worried look hidden in his optics. Doctors passed him every few astro-cycles, looking at datapads or speed-walking to where they were called to by the PA. Pedes padded to the Prime's side, looking into the room as well. Alpha Trion looked over at them, seeing it was a doctor – First Aid to be specific. He looked back into the room, thinking of what to say.

"Flatline is preparing the station for repairs." He said, the Prime looking at the medic again, "However, for the operation you're wanting, we need the approval of–"

"First Aid, you know well that Zeta Prime and myself are the only Primes left." Alpha Trion said.

"Why don't you consult the Primes with the Matrix?" The medic asked.

The Prime sighed, not speaking for a moment.

"War is upon us." He finally said, "We do not have time for a debate. You and Flatline must do everything in your power to repair him."

First Aid didn't make a gesture of disapproval, but it was obvious in his expression.

"Alert me when he's been repaired." Alpha Trion said.

The medic nodded without another comment. He turned and walked back down the hallway he came from, the Prime leaving in the opposite direction a moment later.

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"--and Flatline made sure to thicken his armor, as well as added a retractable mouthplate."

The voice was familiar, but he wasn't sure why. Where even was he? The world was dark. He onlined his optics, immediately shuddering them as soon as the bright light bombarded his vision.

"Thank you, First Aid. I am forever in your and Flatline's debt." A new voice said.

"I will relay that message to Flatline." The first voice, First Aid, said, "I must go. Be careful out there."

"I'll do my best to uphold that." The other voice said, "Take care."

A pair of pedes padded away. The Cybertronian forced his optics online again, squinting in the light. He lifted his helm and looked about the room, seeing the white metal walls. His optics stopped on a figure that stood in the room he laid in. They were a metallic blue, with red bits and a white cape that went down to his ankles. His soft yellow optics looked at the injured one, and his dermaplates curled into a smile.

"You're awake." He said.

He walked over to the medical berth, sitting down next to the Cybertronian. The injured one was slightly alarmed, not recognizing who he was. He would scoot away if he could, but he found that it was hard to move without pain.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

It took a moment for the other to speak, trying to find his voice after being in recharge for what felt like a mega-cycle straight.

"I... don't know you." The other said, "Who are you?"

Again, it took a moment for a response to come from the larger Cybertronian. He sighed before speaking.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I should've introduced myself." He said, "My name is Alpha Trion. I was your mentor before you were injured."

"Mentor?" The injured one said, "I... don't remember you."

"Your memory core had been damaged in a recent conflict," Alpha Trion said, sighing, "among other things."

The two became silent. The injured Cybertronian looked ahead, shuddering his optics. Alpha Trion stood up, and the other Cybertronian onlined his optics to look up at him.

"I must return to my duties." He said, "I'll be back at a later date."

The other nodded. The metallic blue Cybertronian turned to leave. The door slid open, and he glanced back at the other for a moment, flashing a small smile, then finally left. The door slid closed behind him, his pedesteps fading down the hallway, leaving the Cybertronian all alone in his confusion, and with his clouded thoughts.

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