In the final days of peace on Cybertron, one warrior's destiny is forged in the fires of conflict. ShadowDread, a fearsome Triple-Changer with the ability to transform into both a jet and a tank, was bred for war but desires only the thrill of the h...
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The sky over Kaon was the color of cold steel, a perfect match for the mood that settled over me like a second skin. The hunt was almost over.
I could hear the target's footfalls—sharp, desperate against the broken metal ruins that had once been a vibrant district of Cybertron. Now, it was a wasteland, a fitting stage for the performance I was about to conclude. My optics zoomed in, scanning the path ahead. I caught the faint shimmer of his fading energy signature.
He's close. Pathetic that they send me for this.
The click and whirr of my transformation filled the empty streets, a subtle reminder of my edge. I shifted effortlessly into jet mode, streaking above the shattered spires, silent and deadly. My senses locked onto the target below, and I descended fast, transitioning into tank mode before smashing down into the narrow alley.
I could hear his breath—a slight hitch. There's no escape.
The cannon mounted on my back whirred to life, targeting him as he scrambled for cover. I stalked forward. "End of the line." My voice echoed in the hollow corridor, cold and devoid of emotion.
A shadow darted from behind a fallen pillar. Quick. Almost too quick. I almost admired his resolve. "You think you can run?" My tank form rumbled closer, cornering him. "The hunt was over the moment I was sent."
He was fast, I'll give him that. But nothing outruns me. I transformed back to my bipedal form, thrusters hissing as I closed the final distance. His optics were wide, frantic, full of fear. His spark pulsed erratically. A weakling. This hunt is beneath me. But a task is a task.
I fired. One clean shot. Quick, efficient. No satisfaction in it—just the cold release of completion. He fell, lifeless, and I stared down at the heap of metal and wire. "Another mission complete." The words were empty, the victory hollow.
I transformed back into jet mode, rising above the lifeless city. The ruins of Kaon stretched out beneath me, a desolate labyrinth. I'd been doing this too long. Every hunt blurred into the next, every kill was another name I'd forgotten before they hit the ground. They call me The Hunter. I serve the military caste, a prized asset because of my versatility, my ability to adapt, to change.
But sometimes I wonder—am I anything more than a weapon? More than a tool sent to remove obstacles from someone else's path?
I've never cared for leadership. Never wanted it. The battlefield is all I've ever known. And yet, there's something gnawing at the edge of my thoughts. A whisper in the dark corners of my mind. This existence—it's empty.
