The Messenger

by PassionandPromise

Dylan was dead. He was lying on the gravel below him, eyes pointed toward the looming Apocalypse. Sam's eyes narrowed, ignoring the truth of what was said moments before, dropping the metal bar he has in his hands, hearing it bang off the statue he stood on, before hitting the street beneath him with a triumphant clank!

His face shot toward the steadily incoming planet overhead, his eyebrows knit in confusion. He believed that if he hit Dylan into the control pillar, the force of the hit would both kill Dylan and eliminate the threat of Cybertron, which was still fast approaching. He was wrong, and if at anything, Cybertron was nearing closer than ever.

Dylan was right- Why was he even bothering? "You can't be the hero," he'd said to him, before being toasted on the wires of the pillar. Sam wasn't the hero, since when was he ever the hero? In his head, he could hear the taunts of the man Sam hated with a vengeance, even though he was now dead, "You're just some kid, fresh from college, you've got no one left to save you! This world belongs to those who hold the power, which just so happens to be the Decepticons!" With each jeer, Sam's heart thudded faster in his chest, and he felt his hands shaking out of anger.

Was it too late?

Up above him, he could hear Megatron laughing with glee, the thunderous booms of gunfire and bombs surrounding him, encompassing the city. It seemed as if the shouts from the NEST, SWAT, and army members still fighting bravely when the chaos surrounded them, were too far away.

They were losing the battle.

The proof was imminently approaching over their heads.

Was this how it was meant to be?

It was the truth; as his head fell back down to face the man he'd killed seconds ago. The heroes were the ones who fought for their lives, like Epps and Lennox. They were the ones who had cause and meaning to every shot they fired and every step they took. They would always be the heroes. Sam shook his head, wondering why in God's name his ancestor decided to take that bloody trip to the Poles, when in the end, he discovered something which tied Sam to this catastrophe. He could see the way the Autobots looked at him now, even Bumblebee. They saw him as a child who couldn't be left alone, for fear of striking up some sort of battle that was as old as the dawns of time.

"I'm only the Messenger," he murmured, hurt by how much the realisation was true. That woman, Mearing, and even Dylan, was right. He was no hero; he was only the damn Messenger! "That's my job, I provide the information to the others and stand by in the end and watch as each and every one of my friends is killed. I'm just the Messenger, one that can only bring bad news." He felt like a tool, but that was his own fault. He was the one who wanted in on NEST, he did want to help his friends.

It seemed this was the only way to do it.

He looked over to the pillar, amazed that so many of these small things could bring so much disarray. The red light blinked, hovering right in front of him, making him think it was saying-"Come on! Let's see if you won't be fried by me!" It taunted him just by standing there. He closed his eyes for a brief instant, mulling over the gravity of what he was about to do. He wasn't the hero, but he was the Messenger. He was a good guy: this is what good guys do. Raising his hands, slowly, knowing that in the end, it would be some sort of sacrifice, he let himself go, feeling only grief, and knowing there would only be pain.

No sacrifice, no victory.