...100 Stellar Cycles Ago...
They were dust beneath his feet. Cybertropolis was once the capitol city on Cybertron, but now it was shot full of craters.
This isn't right. The city was a neutral territory, for the love of Primus! The Fireball rifle was at his side as the Decepticon, nicknamed
Brawl by his teammates, looked over the city. Megatron had ordered its destruction and Brawl had been far too cowardly to make any objection. He did believe in the Decepticon philosophy of power and strength above all else, and innocent bots killed unavoidably in the heat of battle never gave him a second thought, but the needless slaughter of millions of neutral Cybertronians had crossed the line.
"Foxhole," Brawl said, hardly louder than a whisper, to the Decepticon approaching with a smug stride behind him.
"I've been thinking..."
Foxhole tilted his head in question.
"About what, ya dumb philosopher?"
Brawl looked back over his shoulder, catching Foxhole's optics, and glaring red in fury.
"Life. And how its sacredness and importance is frowned on for us to even acknowledge."
"Yer an idiot," scoffed Foxhole as he turned around and began walking away.
Spinning in rage, Brawl raised his rifle and thrust forward as hard as he could to the back of Foxhole's head.
"DON'T TURN YOUR BACK ON ME!!" Like a spear, Brawl stabbed the barrel of the gun straight through Foxhole's head and out the other side.
"Sweet Unicron, I hate you bots."
As Foxhole's limp frame crumpled to the ground, still hanging from Brawl's rifle barrel, Brawl stepped on the dead bot's shoulder and pushed him off of the gun.
"No respect for life, no respect for bravery or courage; no respect for anything but the proverbial bloodbath." Bending down, he grabbed the razor sharp double bladed claw attached to Foxhole's left arm, and ripped it off with ease.
"Very few of us even have respect for the kill anymore. Nobody seems to take a trophy to honor the fallen soldiers anymore, whether the dead were enemy or friendly." As he fastened the double blades onto his own left arm, Brawl looked into Foxhole's death stare.
"Were you an enemy or a friend? Can any of the other Decepticons be considered either one? The Autobots? Anyone?"
With his new pair of claws, Brawl sliced into Foxhole's chest cavity and pried out the slowly deactivating spark chamber with his bare hands. Foxhole's spark was still in the process of being extinguished as Brawl unfolded his faceplates and swallowed the spark.
Some bots had called Brawl crazy, a cannibal, a pyromaniac, and psychopath. Having once been one of Cybertron's leading philosophers and authors, ever since the war had broken out between the Autobot and Decepticon factions, Brawl had been spiraling downward into his own insanity and complete lust for violence and death.
Foxhole wasn't the first comrade that Brawl had murdered, and he certainly wouldn't be the last.