Could you do another transformers ghost story now that it's spooky season
You have kick started my brain and now we all must suffer the consequences! Apologies if this was not exactly what you wanted but the brain writes what the brain wants.
Prowl huffed as he walked the darkened Halls of the lost light. He wanted to do the last inspection personally before he gave the order to scrap this junk heap. The praxien looked down at his data pad and frowned as he walked into what was the bar apparently. He looked up and scowled at the left over decorations on the wall and what looked like posters of famous cybertronions. The former enforcer walked behind the bar looking at the shelf’s that would have held the intoxicants. He huffed at the stains and the slight smell that emanated from past spills. The mech knelt down to inspect the flooring when he hard a shuffle of plating on the other side of the bar. Prowl froze and slowly extended his doorwings. He frowned as the sensors pinged back a negative for anyone other than him. The black and white bot slowly grabbed his rifle from his subspace. The praxien lunged upwards brandishing his rifle “This Is A Restricted Area!” He called out to the seemingly empty room. Prowl scowled and looked around the dimly lit room. There was no one there. Prowl subspaced his rifle and placed his servos on the bar top.
Prowl jumped at the voice his plating clapping tight “hello” he called looking around “this is a restricted area no bots allowed” he whirld around at the sound of laughter but still no one was there.
“Get over here you scrap heap!”
Prowl jumped. “Rachet?” He whispered. He looked around but he knew that it was impossible. He knew ratchet was dead. Prowl shook his head and walked out of the bar area back into the hallways. The lights were flickering out here he noticed. What little power the ship had was running out he rationalized. Moving deeper into the ship the praxien kept hearing voices but no mech where around. Then he saw a flicker of orange plating walking slowly by him. Prowl turned to address the mech but they were gone. Prowl shivered as the ship grew frigid. The notoriously stoic mech began to run. Me he’s seemed to stream past him a small Cassette mech. A turbo fox, several other mechs he dident know and couldn’t get any kind of reading from. Prowl stumbled through the entry hatch of the ship and tripped falling onto the ramp the praxien growled and pushed himself up dusting off his plating he turned and froze.
In the entry hatch stood…but no.
He was dead they killed him.
There in the entry hatch stood megatron his red optics glowing in the gloom. on his shoulder sat one of sound waves cassettes ravage there tail lashing behind them. Prowl stood there his plating slightly rattling as he watched the warlord slowly turn and walk into the gloom of the ship. Prowl turned one he was out of sight and from his hud approved the paperwork to get the ship scrapped. He fiddled with the schedule till the Lost Light was slated for scrapping first thing in the morning.
Within the ship on the bridge there sat a little blinking light on the captains chair as the ships power slowly ran out the light kept blinking.
In the morning prowl woke up to alerts filling his hud. He slowly scrolled through them and clenched his fists as his anger grew at the last alert the black and white mech launched himself out of his berth and flipped his bedside table in rage.
Out in the far reaches of space the lost light idled as its crew reacquainted themselves with the ship.
And the crewmates that never really left them.
