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Things were not supposed to go like this.
They were not supposed to go like this.
Sentinel was sure he had done everything right this time, like the many before.
He gave a false location to the primes, one filled with some low ranking Quintessons soldiers that had decided to stay behind to fight, that should have won them enough time to evacuate to the rest, like it had every single time.
Then, why were Zeta and Megatronus here?
Sentinel's processor was overheating, trying to understand what he did wrong. Had he accidentally shared his location with them? Had he overestimated the time it would took the primes to annihilate the soldiers? Had he-
A small quintesson scared whimper brought him back to reality, his optics landing in Megatronus weapon, always ready to strike.
Unconsciously, his wings extended, as if trying to shield them from the sight of his primes.
Maybe he could distract them enough so they managed to evacuate....
But who was he trying to trick, unless the matrix suddenly had a change of spark and jumped from Zeta to him in the span of a klick, there was no way he would be able to stop Megatronus for the time neccesary for them to get to safety.
Unicron be damned, it would be a miracle if he was able to stand his ground for more than three klicks.
—My primes- —
—Step aside, Sentinel.—
The cold voice of Megatronus made his whole body run cold, but he couldnt, not when the scared sounds of the young organics were just some steps behind him, trying to hide on his shadow.
In any other situation, he would have never dissobeyed a direct order from any of the primes, knowing the consequences of such an act. But this time he wasnt going to be a coward.
He re adjusted his position, firmer as his wings covered the Quintessons hiding behind him better.
—No—
While he luckily wasnt able to tell Megatronus expression because of his mask (for he knew he would leak some oil) but the scoff Zeta let out behind him was enough to know how much trouble he would have after this.
—Dont try to be a hero now, little canary, come back here.—
His own servos slowly went to the weapon on his hip, useless? Maybe, but with both primes in front of them, Megatronus approaching more and more, a useless effort was better than no effort at all.
—And let you masacre them like you have done to countless more? No way —
He turned, for a mere klick, to the only adult Quintesson behind him, his optics looking at her softly, yet panicked.
— Run, now —
She didn’t need to hear him twice, her tentacles picking as many kids as she could and sprinting to escape, the juvenile Quintessons running in front of her.
The sudden movement provoked Megatronus into action, charging immediately after them, only to be stopped by the double edged sword from his aide.
The weapons clashed for a moment, for the primes outraged surprise.
—You dare?—
—Sorry, my prime. —
Sentinel tone was almost genuine, he was pained it had come to a direct confrontation, but he…he couldn’t let them. . .
However, such a vain effort, for all it took was another move from the prime to sent him flying towards a nearby wall, his body slamming on it which left a pain that surely wouldn’t go away on some cycles. Some of the baby quintessons that hadn’t been dragged by the older ones ran to him, worried noises from their little bodies.
Instinctively, he wrapped his arms and wings as most as he could, trying to shield them from the primes gaze.
Megatronus, tho, was not interested on this ones, immediately going back to the chase.
After some moments, his spark sunk at the sound of the screams of the adult Quintesson as he clenched the babies on his arms even stronger. The only comfort found in so much horror is that his audials weren’t able to catch the screams of the most juvenile ones, either died quickly, or they were too far ahead by the moment of her demise.
When silence felt on the cavern, only interrupted by the small sobs of the little ones, steps approached Sentinel, who hadn’t moved an inch since then.
He recognized Zeta when the ruler kneeled in front of him, as if he was checking his state.
Sentinel knew better than to assume that Zeta was worried for him on any way.
— Little canary —
Before he was able to raise his helm and meet his prime red optics, he felt his wing being forcefully stretched to reveal what was underneath, almost torn off his back, causing him to suppress a scream.
He regretted focusing on the pain when the scared yelp of one of the babies alerted him, Zeta’s enormous servo holding it as if it was merely a toy.
— This little game of yours, thanks to primus that its finally over. —
He watched on horror as the servo closed on the baby, crushing the sweet thing until it stopped crying.
— Did you had fun, my little canary? Did you get everything out of your system? —
He tried to back away, his arms holding the remaining Quintessons as close as possible to himself, the remaining working wing trying it’s best to hide them from the tyrant’s gaze, which only caused him to chuckle in amusement.
— This wasn’t a game, Zeta, those lives-! —
But before he was able to end his sentence, to tell a piece of his processor to the mech in front of him, Zeta spoke again, dismissing anything he had said that the prime didn’t liked. Like he always does, because what is the opinion of a little, incompetent aide, to the wisdom of the wearer of the matrix?
—Goog good, everyone is so relieved we arrived before you did something foolish, dear, like let those organics escape —
Just then, Megatronus returned, and Sentinel forced his optics to stay on the prime in front of him, so maybe, he wont have to see the blood all over the other, the proof of his failure at saving her life, at helping.
Slowly, in a mockery of care, Zeta’s servo, now bathed in the blood of the little one, came to cup his faceplate.
—Let’s go home, my little canary —
It was not a question, he would never give him that.
As he clung to the remaining babies, despair slowly made its way to his spark, the realization of how trapped he was on this sick game of power.
Now, more than ever before.
Star. . .I should have gone with all of you. . . .
Sorry.