Six centuries since the final battle at Kaon strange that the war would begin and end in the same city.
Six centuries since the Transformer race had begun to undertake the tremulous course to peace without faction.
Six centuries of political unrest and suppressing rebellions too numerous to count.
Six centuries since Jazz had been deactivated.
Six centuries of hell.
Prowls hands clenched on the railing of the balcony, his optics trained on the far horizon without truly seeing anything. The air was cold and clear, pierced by the incandescent lights of the surrounding city. The world around him was thrown into sharp detail, but none of it penetrated Prowls mind. It never did anymore.
Someone behind him sighed and drummed their fingers against the doorframe leading out to the balcony. Staring at the sky he died under wont make him any less dead.
Prowl turned from Kaons skyline, face and voice emotionless despite the deep-rooted anger that threade