A/N: Blame Avatar: The Last Airbender for the title. They mentioned it in the series, I realized it would fit perfectly for the events in this story, and I borrowed it. Credit goes to those he originally coined that term…ahem.
I do not want to fall it the pattern of what most people writing post-DOTM fics seem to be doing. Trouble is, this is the ONLY plausible way I see for there to even BE a true sequel to DOTM, so I'm doing it, too. However, I plan on handling it differently than what I have read, because repeat performances aren't very interesting, are they?
UPDATE: This chapter has been revised yet again, with misspellings and other such things corrected, and slight changes to make the story flow better.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Transformers, or any of the song/movie quotes used in this story. However, the idea for this story does, indeed, belong to me.
HERE'S YOUR TRADITIONAL, FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD REMINDER THIS IS NOT A SLASH FIC.
NOTE: DO NOT READ THIS FIC UNLESS YOU HAVE SEEN DARK OF THE MOON! MAJOR SPOILERS ABOUND!
Transformers: Day of the Black Sun
Prologue: The Seeker's Flight
Rating: T (Just to be safe)
In any war, there are calms between storms. There will be days when we lose faith. Days when our allies turn against us...but the day will never come that we forsake this planet and its people.
For I am Optimus Prime...and I send this message to the universe: We are here.
We are home.
THERE WERE COUNTLESS NUMBERS OF STARS SCATTERED THROUGHOUT THE vastness of space. Since time unknown, sentient beings on planets all over the universe would look to the stars visible in the sky of their home planets. The sight of the stars brought joy, awe, and hope.
All of this meant nothing to Firestorm. He streaked past the stars, not even stopping to admire the sight of them. At one time, he would have done so, but no longer. His Energon levels were dangerously low; he was running his engine ragged at the speed he was going. He desperately needed to stop and recharge, but there was no time for that. Ignoring the whine of protest from his already overworked systems, he increased his speed even further. While he did have the ability to get to his destination instantly, his energy had been too low even in the beginning to attempt such a thing without risking severe damage. If he tried it now, it would very likely kill him. So Firestorm traveled the normal Cybertronian way, and pushed his speed to the limits as best as he was able to.
The only hope he had came to him in the form of the transmission he had picked up. It had been heavily encrypted with an Autobot code, but he had been able to get through and learn what he had been hoping was true.
Optimus Prime. He is still alive and Megatron is no more. So, the Autobots were able to win the war after all. Good, good. But they are not prepared for this.
Firestorm was not alone. He was being chased.
He couldn't see what it was that was chasing him. It was too far away, but the aura it gave off-cold and violent, evil and unforgiving, like a huge black shadow that sucked the energy out of everything it touched, was something he was cursed to feel even here. And, in all actuality, it wasn't truly chasing him. No, it was coming for something else, something that was on the small organic planet Firestorm was traveling to. The planet that the Autobots now called home.
The Autobots didn't know. The Autobots were no doubt unprepared for the enemy that was slowly but surely making its way towards their new home. How could they be? The approaching threat was very real, but it had long ago faded into myth, into legends that were rarely spoken, let alone believed enough to be taken seriously by most Cybertronians alive today. But Firestorm was old enough to know that the stories were true. He was prepared and knew what must be done. He had information that the Autobots could use. It might lead to victory, it might not. But it would certainly give them a fighting chance, which was something they did not have, that they would never have if he didn't get there in time.
If he did get there in time, if he did help them, then maybe he would finally feel worthy to exchange the battered Decepticon insignia that marred his chassis for an Autobot one. Maybe the terrible things he had helped to bring about and failed to prevent while in Decepticon service would finally be paid for. Maybe.
He felt the enemy's presence again, reaching out in the direction he was going. He could almost hear the cold voice hissing in his comm unit.
IT WILL BE DESTROYED!
Firestorm shuddered, and then increased his speed once more. He had to get there! He had to make it to Earth as soon as he possibly could. He had to warn the Autobots! He had to tell them…
HE IS COMING!