Railgun closed his eyes briefly with a sigh.
"I was one of many of the early units they created, given a security detail on one of Cybertron’s interplanetary rail companies. We were one of many, but I led my brothers Coverfire and Sheller as best as I was allowed. Never did much during the brief peace time, mostly defense maintenance, monitoring cargo, eliminating vermin; probably not much different to what you did before here.
And when the war started…" He pauses, as if to remind himself. "A blasted Decepticon got to us. A monster known as Rectifier, our master controller. Only by Primus’ will did his acquisition of Mini-Cons stop. But for us? It was too late.
For my sake, I won’t go over every battle, every fight, every struggle. But I’ve–He made us lose so many. Crushed,"
Tunneler barely whimpers as the mallet comes down on him.
“Blasted,”
Tramjam explodes to pieces from a tank blast he failed to stop
“Bombed,”
‘We should be safe here. NO! Look out!’ Missiles rage in and destroy the entire Railroad Assistance Team.
“Drowned,”
What’s left of Titled is fished out of a bad pool of Energon. Others are dragged out of the now emptied passageways.
“Melted,”
‘Help!’ Alarmed can barely scream as the flames took her from him.
“Gassed.”
The group coughs as they realize what’s happening. The Autobots filled the tunnels with poisonous gas. They start running, but several were already dropping dead.
Railgun’s optics go hollow and lifeless, thinking of it all. Giving minor clinches with each reminder. It can’t be fixed. It can’t ever be fixed. Move on, move on before it pulls you back down!
He resumes, "Nebula, I don’t have hobbies. I didn’t even have a concept of life. I only knew death and failure. Who is Railgun? I don’t know who he was, I don’t think he ever exist. Just a silly moniker given to a toy.
But me? I was not conscious until taken here. I do not know why we were taken, but we were taken alone. There were no other bulks, there was no incidental capture as far as we can tell. We were taken by our lonesome, away from our last mission. And then we finally woke up for the first time.
And we couldn’t handle it. I can’t handle it. These tunnels? The schedule? That is all that’s keeping me ironed faced, a distracted focus to stay sane. And our mission to escape and find what remains of our station friends, my brothers. When we finally do…
…I don’t know what we’ll do. You want to know me? I can’t afford to find out. Not here, it’s tactically unsound."