Transformers Regenerated: Origins - Cross My Spark

CROSS MY SPARK
--Cycle 9314 (300 years into the war)--

    Shaky fingers gripped the edge of the coffin lid. He both dreaded and hoped for what he would find underneath it; he needed answers, even if they brought him grief and despair. Gingerly, he slid the coffin open.

    Laying within was the body of a teal and black mech, a Decepticon symbol emboldened on his shoulder.

    Rewind closed the lid, hanging his head in sorrow. He had not found what he was looking for; how long would it be before he did?

*  *  *

    "Next."

    The Decepticon sitting to Chromedome's right got to his feet. Giving one last glance at the three others he had been speaking with, the violet and silver mech stepped out of the waiting room and into what would soon be his resting place.

    "Can't help but feel sorry for that mech," said the Decepticon to Chromedome's left. "That story about how he lost his brother... that just tears at the spark."

    Chromedome nodded in agreement. He had never thought he would ever feel sympathy for a Decepticon, but seeing how anyone sitting here in this room was prepared to die, differences between factions hardly mattered anymore.

    "Raises the question, though," said a third Decepticon. "What's your guys' stories? Why are you here?"

    The second Decepticon sighed softly, bitter memories showing in his optics. "For me, it all started when I got kicked out of the Primal Vanguard. I signed up for Trannis' revolt after that, and I thought I had found my calling then. But then I foiled up a battle campaign and... well, let's just say Megatron's not happy. And I'd rather die peacefully then suffer whatever fate he has in mind for me. Name's Mortar, by the way."

    "I'm Static," the other Decepticon said. "Former Communications. I got forced to listen in to the Simanzi Massacres and similar events onward. It's gotten too much for me to--"

    "Chromedome."

    At the sound of his name being called, Chromedome lifted himself off of the bench he had been sitting on. Giving a simple nod of farewell to the two Decepticons, he headed into the next room. It was then that he heard an anguished cry.

*  *  *

    Rewind held his head in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Failure yet again. It had been this way for several centuries now....

    Well after the war was underway, his life had taken a turn for the worse. The one mech he had held in higher regard than any other had vanished without a trace. Since then, he had spent his life searching for him, scouring battlefields and perusing war footage for anything that gave him his whereabouts, regardless of fate.

    "The worse the death, the more painful the memories."

    Rewind turned around to find a brown and red mech standing there, a sad look in his yellow visor. Tilting his head, Rewind said, "Who are you?"

    "Everyone calls me Chromedome. And I'm here to do something about it." The mech seemed to stare out into space for a moment before saying, "What's your story?"

    Rewind was hesitant to open his heart out to this complete stranger, even though they were wearing the same badge. But ever since he started his lifelong quest, he had never confided in anyone; not his brother Eject, nor his friend Blaster. He had to tell someone, and Chromedome seemed like a welcoming enough person.

    So he told him. He told him about his servitude and later bond to Dominus Ambus. He told him about their exploits-- searching for Luna 1 and a cure for Cybercrosis. He told him about life as a member of the disposable class, fighting for rights. He then told him about Dominus Ambus' disappearance and how he had searched for him, diving into illicit practices to do so.

    He poured all of his sorrows onto this stranger, who simply listened without a word. Rewind wasn't searching for sympathy by doing this; he simply needed someone to hear his story, to hear the grief he had kept bottled for so long.

    He needed someone like Dominus.

    When he was finished, Chromedome knelt down and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

    "I feel your pain," he said softly. "I've lost people close to me as well, and I've... done things that I regret. I came here to end all of the suffering, but now...."

    Rewind tilted his head. "Yes?"

    "...Now, I know that there are some people who have it worse than me-- a lot worse than me. And yet they get by. They brave whatever life throws at them. They thrive. And here I was running away from it, like a coward."

    "You're not a coward. We all have our breaking points...." Rewind looked forlorn at the coffin. "I might have just found mine."

    "You can't give up now," Chromedome insisted. "Dominus Ambus is still out there, one way or another, and I'm going to help you find him."

    Rewind looked up at him with a hopeful look. "You... you promise?"

    "Cross my spark."

--Cycle 9324 (10 years later)--

    Chromedome woke up screaming.

    "Don't pull the trigger!"

    "What trigger?"

    Chromedome turned to see Rewind standing at his recharge slab. Instantly, the memory of his dream-- or nightmare, rather-- faded away and he remembered that he was still on Kimia Station, resting in the habitation suite he shared with Rewind.

    Rubbing the back of his head, Chromedome murmured, "Nothing. It was... it was just a bad dream."

    Rewind folded his arms. "A dream about someone holding a gun to you?"

    "Actually, I wasn't even in the dream. I was...." Chromedome paused, unsure whether to continue. Then, remembering how Rewind had opened himself up to him ten years ago, he supposed it was time for him to do the same. "Have you ever heard of mnemosurgery?"

    "No. What is it?"

    After making sure the room was audio-protected, Chromedome told him. He told him about the practice of reading others memories, altering or erasing them if necessary. He told him about his work at the New Institute. He told him about the lives he had been forced to change.

    When he was finished, there was silence. Then, Rewind stepped closer to him and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "Promise me something."

    Chromedome craned his head to look at him. "What?"

    "Promise me that you'll stop altering people's memories; that you'll stop... injecting. Not only is it hurtful to others, but it's hurtful to you. Please... do it for me."

    Chromedome stared at Rewind, seeing the pleading look in the archivist's gaze. He then gave him an assuring nod.

    "Cross my spark."

--Cycle 9701 (377 years later)--

    "Take a seat."

    "What is this about, Prowl?" Chromedome said as he sat across from his former partner. "I thought you were busy with helping Magnus set up the roster for Prime's Ark."

    "I was," Prowl said, pressing his finger tips together and he propped his elbows on his desk. "I still am. This is about the roster-- and you."

    Chromedome sighed. "I already told you. I'm not signing up for it, nor is Rewind."

    Prowl raised an optic ridge. "Why not? I would think this would be an ideal opportunity for you two to continue your quest."

    "I doubt Prime will be making stops for things like that," Chromedome said quietly. "Besides, I'm sure the 'Cons will be sending their most fearsome after the Ark. I... I don't want to put Rewind in that kind of danger."

    Prowl smirked. "It's too bad. We could use someone with your skills."

    "You and Prime?"

    "The Secret Service." At this, Prowl lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "We are a covert group of Autobots tasked with doing things others aren't willing to. We're like the Wreckers, but better."

    Chromedome's visor narrowed. "I know where you're going with this. The answer's already no."

    "I beg you to reconsider. We could really use someone like you. The things we do-- it's right up your alley."

    "No." Chromedome got up from his seat. "I'm sorry, Prowl, but no. I made a promise to some one and I won't break it, even if Optimus Prime asked me to."

    Prowl said nothing until Chromedome was at the doorway. "It's funny."

    Chromedome stopped, gripping the doorway's frame. "What is?"

    "You and Rewind."

    He tightened his grip, bending the metal frame. "Fine, I'll bite. What's so 'funny' about that?"

    "I was just wondering if he has any inkling of your full story." As he said this, Prowl lifted up a datapad from his desk. Chromedome caught this action in his peripheral vision and spun around to face him. 

    "You wouldn't dare."

    "If you care for him as much as I think you do, I believe it would be for the--"

    Prowl never finished his sentence, for Chromedome was instantly on top of him, injecting his needle fingers into his former partner's neck. At his command, every bit of incriminating knowledge of him vanished from Prowl's mind, as well as the threat he had made.

    "You asked for this," he muttered.

    When the deed was done, Chromedome quickly got back up and bolted for the door. Once again, Prowl's voice stopped him.

    "So, promise me you'll think about it."

    Chromedome only stopped to give him one last glance.

    "Yeah. Cross my spark."