Waiting For Love ××× The Life Of A FEMALE Trooper

SG • The Death Of A Trooper

A/N: Congrats! We're doing this, Shattered Glass styled! Also, sorry! This was supposed to come out yesterday.
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Description: You doubt yourself, your skills, and yourself. The 'Cons want you, the 'Bots don't care, and your just stuck in the middle. So, you take the deathly solution.
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WARNING: Suicide in the house yo, so leave if you get triggered by this stuff.
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2ND POV
8/9/17
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The Nemesis. Filled with Autobot troopers that are at the immediate service of the one and only, Lord Optimus. The warship was swarming with Insectibots and such. His rival, Megatron Prime, worked as the leader of the Decepticons. They swore to protect the inhabitants of the peculiar little planet they landed on called Earth.

One such trooper that was created by the 'Bots, a pretty little femme trooper who was an anomaly to all but herself, was you! You were strange, unordinary and shouldn't even exist. But you did anyways. You defied the machine that created your very spark. The Decepticons knew of you and your enhanced abilities, and wanted to add you to their ranks.

You were ignored among your own ranks, treated as though you were infected with the Cybonic Plague. Your superiors picked on you when they were able to, otherwise, you were ignored yet again. The universe just wouldn't lay off!

You were ridiculed by Primus himself, if the cybertronian god even existed. You would never know. You were created long after Cybertron was trashed by your higher-ups! You would probably die before you'd have the chance to even spot it's oh-so-glorious surface. Heck! You'd give up your own life to get a glimpse at the Sea of Rust if you could!

   Death by anything really sounded more promising than living. Your only options for your pathetic future were: 1) Be ultimately depressed on the Nemesis as you awaited your impending doom in an epic battle, or 2) Become a weapon for the Decepticons to use against their enemies. Neither were too appealing, especially the latter. The possibility that they'd even consider making you an ally and friend seemed to good to be true for a bot like you.

You walked the halls of the Nemesis, keeping your gaze on your pedes while occasionally glancing. You could hear the whispers around you. They talked about how lonely you were, your unique frame, your shy nature. The negative comments hit you like a blast from your liege's cannons. Nobody is around! you thought angrily. They aren't real!

They weren't, but it wasn't like anybody would correct you.

You navigated yourself through the warship and found the flight deck. You walked over to the edges and sat down. You let your pedes dangle, and allowed your elbows to rest on your knee joints while you held your face. You stared down into the abyss of clouds, sighing.

Jump!

Would anybody miss you if you did? Most certainly not! No one would care, and nobody would do anything about it. They didn't care enough to stop you! Neglect from others, the war, especially the war . . . They were driving you up a wall! You were a grounder, so the impulse to fly rather than fall wouldn't be there. At all.

   There was nothing holding you back. No wings, no bots, no 'Cons, no friends or allies. You stood up, looking out with a solemn expression for anyone who might be watching you. The tips of your pedes were already off, and the rest of your body was about to go next. You opened your arms wide, as if you were embracing your death.

   Your frame fell, and time seemed to slow as you descended, as if Primus was trying to torture you even more by extending your sorry existence. How kind of him to do that for you. You hadn't regretted your decision the very second you left the deck. You wanted this over and done with. The Nemesis was high in the atmosphere and shielded from any Decepticons. This meant a longer fall for you, but the idea that you might reflect on what you've done to affect the world was bull scrap. You hadn't done anything to help anyone besides defend energon mines and get beaten up by other troopers. 

   So yeah, still not regretting anything, you thought with no emotion.

   You could see solid ground now. This wasn't like the time the Decepticon rookie used the Phase Shifter to save himself when he sky-dived from the Autobot warship. Oh no! This time, it was you! And there was no way you'd be able to save yourself now. You didn't offline your optics for the impact. The ground got closer, closer, and so close the area became sharp and detailed.

   Your frame landed onto the ground with a sickening crash. Some pieces of armor and wiring flew off and stuck out at unnatural angles. Your paint job was now dirty and scratched up, and anybody who might come across your corpse wouldn't even recognize you as a vehicon.

   It was official: You were dead.
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A/N: If your depressed, don't kill yourself. Talk to someone, because your life is most definitely not meaningless, contrary to what you might believe. Ciao!

      —WV—