Program: Rewrite

Chapter Two

   I sit on the edge of the department building, taking in the night sky and the city below. The distant sounds of life are a far cry from the sounds of blaster fire and bombs that plagued the city only a few megacycles ago. The signs of devastation are receding as structures are rebuilt swiftly and debris is cleared from the streets. Pretty soon Iacon will look as though there had never been a four million-stellar-cycle war to the immigrants. Those who suffered through it sense the undercurrent of tension running just below the surface.

"You come here often?"

   I turn to see Tumbler, aka Chromedome, the department's mnemosurgeon, and Prowl's longtime partner standing at the door to the rooftop.

"Only when I want to think," I greet him.

"Meeting went that bad, huh?" He comes over to sit nearby. I turn my attention back to the sight before us.

"You know how he is."

"Well, you know, I've only been working with him for a few million years."

   I smile at that.

"Did he try and make you stay on?"

"He used the old guilt trip and everything."

"Hmph."

I glance sidelong at Chromedome. "You sounded like him just then."

  His optic visor narrows slightly. "Primus forbid. One insufferable mech in charge is enough."

   A few moments of silence pass between us as we survey the streets below, full of bots hurrying this way and that. I finally speak up.

"I take it you're still planning on leaving?"

  He clasps his servos in front of himself.

"Yeah. Rewind's been encouraging me to give up mnemosurgery."

"Prowl's already prepared for it." Of course, the old commander strictly forbade me from telling CD about that. But he's not my commander anymore. Or, at least he won't be for long.

  Chromedome regards me for a bit and turns his helm away.

"I guess that means you're leaving too."

  I incline my helm. "Just need to square away a few things, and I'm home free." My digits tap a datapad sitting by my other side. "I've already written up my resignation."

"Good for you. It's about time you stood up to him."

"I know."

   Several more minutes pass before he stands up to leave. I look up at him. 

"You know, he's not going to be happy, losing two of his best bots."

"Yeah, well, that's his problem."

"Very true."

  His visor turns up slightly, the only indication of a smile.

"See you around, Shade. Good luck."

"You too. Tell Rewind I said hello."

   He nods and heads for the entrance.

"Hey, Tumbler."

  He pauses, servo on the elevator controls. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for listening."

  His visor turned up again. "Thanks for remembering my name."

  I wave at him as he leaves and turn back around, listening to the elevator make its descent. The city's lights twinkle like the stars they hide. My optics spy Maccadam's Oil House nestled among the damaged buildings, still standing. I guess being a neutral bar spared it from the destruction. Maccadam's had stayed open throughout the war, the proprietor enforcing a strict 'no fighting' policy. Maybe I could get a job there. It'd be a welcome relief from the dangerous life-or-death mission but challenging enough so I wouldn't get bored. I'm betting the war's aftermath would keep Prowl too busy to spend resources trying to track me down. Then again, there are rumors floating around about Rodimus planning to leave Cybertron and taking whoever wanted to go with him. If going on a long journey doesn't throw Prowl off my sent, I don't know what will.

 I take one last look at Iacon, my home, the streets where I spent my early days, and turn my back on it. Tomorrow begins a whole new chapter for me. A whole new life. I stop in front of the elevator doors and press the button to descend. The doors slide open shortly and I step inside. It's time to pull everything together.

  It's time to initiate Program: Rewrite.