Designation, Seven

      The sun shone low on the horizon, illuminating a planet. Mountains rose above the surface, their peaks reaching into the endless sky, and in the distance, the spires of a large city glistened. Once, this place was alive, filled with noise and voices, but now a dead desert stretched everywhere. The surface was cracked from constant bombardment, rocket strikes battered the mountains and hills, and here and there were rust-covered corpses, completely forgotten. Their souls merged with the Well of All Sparks, and their bodies with the bleak landscape. Such a picture, which had become commonplace, no longer frightened the locals, and small animals found shelter in the forever frozen armor.       However, the planet's dead calm was deceptive. Fleeing from raids by bandits and predators, from destructive attacks and corrosive rains that ate away the armor, many of the survivors found refuge beneath the surface, hiding in old tunnels. Life had been thriving there for thousands of years, although not in the form that the inhabitants of Cybertron were accustomed to seeing. The planet's resources continued to be depleted, threatening to destroy the entire world, shrouded in ruin.        The safest places on the surface, if any existed at all, remained cities and small remote settlements. The inhabitants of these settlements created their own communities, whose members were accustomed to caring for one another. They built houses, had their own medical centers, and kept round-the-clock watch for external and internal threats. Also, each community had its own set of strict laws, which significantly increased its chances of survival. However, even large cities could no longer guarantee 100% safety.       Iacon was a thriving capital, the most populous and wealthy city on Cybertron. With its majestic spires, long neighborhoods, domes of administrative buildings, and scientific complexes, it remained the last line of defense for the Resistance for a long time. Despite being protected from lone bandits and predatory animals, Iacon was subjected to numerous bombings by the Decepticons, who turned the once beautiful city into ruins. Broken and buried in its own rubble, it stubbornly retained its soul — the majestic Citadel, which to this day has not been destroyed. It continued to rise proudly with its battered spire, bathed in the rays of the distant sun. It still housed the Hall of the High Council of Cybertron, where meetings and ceremonies were still held, although the local residents had long since moved to the tunnels beneath the city. The Archive, the Science Department, and the Autobot Base were also moved underground for security reasons. The perimeter of Iacon was heavily guarded, the streets were patrolled, and air defense systems protected the sky. The entrance to the city, as well as the tunnels beneath it, was closed to outsiders — the threat of enemy spies was too big.              Thus, Cybertron was divided into clusters. The Decepticons took control of part of the planet, occupying the second-largest city, Kaon, and making it their capital, as well as gaining superiority in the skies. The Autobots remained in Iacon, turning the once cultural and historical center into their military base, and occupied the underground tunnels. The rest of the planet's surface was partially controlled by predators and bandits. But there was one more cluster that was destined to be between all the others — the neutrals.       From the very beginning of the war, neutrals constituted the overwhelming majority. Those who, for one reason or another, did not join any of the warring factions. They remained on the sidelines for a long time, hoping for a quick end to the conflict, but time passed, and peace did not come. Cities continued to be destroyed by bombs, the surface of the planet shook from explosions, and the number of dead grew every day. Gradually, some of the neutrals officially joined one of the sides, while others supported the factions secretly, not wanting to fight openly. This division gave rise to conflicts. Families were torn apart, and friends parted ways under the pressure of disagreement. Those who had been close became strangers in an instant. Thus, the remaining neutrals, having never chosen a side, became a threat to both. The Autobots and Decepticons did not trust them, treated them with hostility, and even with contempt. Gradually, they were driven out of the cities and formed their own small settlements, completely separating themselves from the warring factions.       Over time, the Autobots forgot about them, focusing entirely on the war and often counting the dead neutrals as collateral damage. The Decepticons were not averse to profiting from them by conducting barbaric raids on peaceful settlements. Predatory animals, such as small bloodthirsty Scraplets and mighty Insecticons, also quickly became a threat to the neutrals' existence. On top of everything else, lone bandits and hunters of easy prey ravaged homes and entire settlements, leaving peaceful residents with nothing. Every day, they had to fight for their right to live, fighting on several fronts of their own war at the same time. Unfortunately, this time, some of them were unlucky again.       Figures appeared in the distance. Winged creatures walked in the shadows of the arches and hills that stretched along the Energon Gorge. Once upon a time, this place was a full-flowing river of energon emerging from beneath the planet's surface. Now, only bare walls, mottled with rust from corrosive rains, and a dried-up estuary could be seen. “Five, what's your energon level?” Asked the winged warrior walking ahead. “Sixty percent,” the companion replied. “Eight, what's yours?” “Forty percent and falling,” came a third voice. “But I'm fine. I can live with it.” “Well, not for long, if your energy keeps falling,” replied the squad leader, waving her hand. “Let's take a break. Second and Thirteen, go on reconnaissance. Five, stay with me. You, Eight, sit down. We need to cauterize your wound again while you still have some energon left.”       The Nyxes obediently scattered to their places: two, as ordered, climbed the slopes to scout the surroundings, while the rest hid in the shadow of one of the large rusty arches.       The leader of the squad carefully examined the other Nyx's back. A thick purple liquid oozed from the uneven stump that had once been a beautiful wing. “This temporary patch turned out to be too temporary,” Seven thought, taking out her stun gun. The baton sparkled with blue light and crackled. With a flash, the tip touched the wound, and a minute later the metal glowed red and became malleable. Melting, the armor slowly flowed down, sealing the wound. It was a crude and painful attempt to stop the energon leak, but there was neither time nor tools for more effective measures. They needed to get to the Laboratory as quickly as possible, where the injured would be taken care of by medics.       Throughout the entire process, Eight didn't even move. She sat quietly, clenching her jaw tightly and staring painfully into space, and as soon as the weapon stopped melting her armor, she exhaled with barely noticeable relief. “Hey, Seven, you need to see this!” Came the voice of one of the Nyxes on reconnaissance.       The commander left the wounded sisters behind and climbed up to the Thirteenth. A group of strangers appeared behind the high walls of the gorge. They moved slowly in the opposite direction, heading for Iacon, which was visible on the horizon.  “Autobots,” Seven snorted, a hint of contempt slipping into her voice. "Rats." “Look who's their leader!” Thirteen whispered excitedly. “Prime himself, and Ultra Magnus with him. What luck! If we attack now, we'll have the element of surprise.”       Not sharing the sister's enthusiasm, Seven shook her head disapprovingly: “No. Let's get outta here.”        Thirteen cast a disappointed glance at the departing group of Autobots and followed the commander down the slope: “But why?” “Because I gave an order,” Seven replied in a tone that brooked no argument. “A skirmish with the Autobots is the last thing we need right now.” “But Seven,” the Nyx persisted, following the leader to the others, “this is a great chance to destroy two key figures of the Resistance at once! We are the Nyx, we are literally made to kill Primes! And now one of them is right in front of us, and you just want to walk away?” “Yes.” “But what if Megatron finds out about it? That we had a real chance to kill his main enemy, and we didn't take it?”       Seven stopped, rolled her eyes in annoyance, put on an impenetrable mask, and turned to her sister: "What chance are we talking about? There are twice as many of them, and at least three of them are top-notch fighters. Meanwhile, there are five of us, two of whom are wounded. Do you really think it will be so easy to take them down as a bunch of neutrals? Calm down, Thirteen, you're not half as good as you think you are."       Deciding that the conversation was over, Seven gave an order to move out, but Thirteen did not budge. “Megatron would not approve it,” she said stubbornly. “We have killed Primes in battles far larger than this one and with less chance of success.”       Seven took a few steps to face her sister. Being half a head taller, the commander loomed menacingly over her interlocutor, giving her a look full of cold fury. “You are testing my patience, Thirteen,” Seven's voice was imbued with feigned calm. “This is not a democracy. If you are so eager to go to the Well of All Sparks, just say the word, and I will impale your head on my sword with pleasure.”       With her chin held high, Thirteen held her leader's cold gaze. She pressed her lips together, clenched her jaw, and did not take her bright purple eyes off the Nyx opposite her. It would be a lie to say that Seven didn't scare her. The commander had a rather bloody reputation among both the Autobots and the Decepticons. Almost none of the remaining Nyxes got into conflicts, objected, or challenged orders. Only Thirteen occasionally risked openly contradicting Seven, especially if the commander's decisions somehow conflicted with Megatron's interests. She was beginning to think that Seven was playing her own game. “Does anyone else think I have to answer to them for my orders?” Seventh said loudly, her cold gaze sweeping over her squad. The response was silence, which suited her perfectly. No one wanted to get on her bad side. Seven was patient, but her composure usually ended at the most unexpected moment.       Giving her sister a contemptuous look, Seven continued on her way, expecting the other Nyxes to follow her as usual, but that did not happen. “We swore allegiance to Megatron,” insisted the stubborn Thirteen, standing in front of the others, “and dying for him would be an honor for any of us!”       When Seven turned to the squad, a cruel smile lit up her face: “I'm sure he'll appreciate that. But he's not here, and for now, you answer to me. So I advise you all to follow my fucking orders.” Despite the smile, her voice remained cold, which, however, offered no guarantee that an explosion would not follow soon. Something was thickening in the air, sparking more and more, threatening to start a fire. “We didn't choose you!” the Thirteenth Nyx suddenly exclaimed, gathering all her willpower into a fist. “Thirteen, don't,” Two, who had been silent all this time, grabbed her sister's hand in an attempt to stop her, but she roughly pulled it away. “Four should have been our leader, not you!” “Well, then she shouldn't have died,” Seven replied venomously, thoroughly fed up with this pointless conversation. “She's dead because you wanted to take her place!”       Seventh approached her sister again. Something in the commander's gaze, in her gait and dangerous tilt of her head made the others step back from the arguing Nyxes. “She's dead because she was a weak, whining little bitch,” Seven hissed, losing her patience. “Is that why you hate me so much, Thirteen? Because I killed your girlfriend?”       Thirteen's face stretched in surprise, and although the Nyx quickly regained her composure, it did not escape the commander's watchful eyes: "Yes, I know what kind of relationship you had. Believe me, I don't give a shit who you sleep with, as long as it doesn't interfere with our missions. But now you're crossing the line, Thirteen. During our argument, the Autobots could have attacked us a dozen times. If you're so eager to take my place, at least learn to calculate the possible risks."       Whether it was the mention of the deceased Four, the fact that Seven could easily read her thoughts, or the feeling of her complete dependence, something clicked in Thirteen's mind. A sweet feeling of imminent revenge began to burn through her circuits, heating the dark energon boiling within them. Thirteen was convinced that Seven's victory in the battle for leadership was not fair. Four was the best fighter of the team, fierce, strong, and truly loyal to Megatron and his cause. Seven snatched her victory as brutally as she had ripped the Spark from the chest of her defeated opponent, managing to surprise not only the Nyxes but the Decepticon leader himself. It was cruel, unprecedented, unexpected, therefore unworthy and unfair. Four would never give up the opportunity to extinguish Prime's Spark. Even if it costs the lives of every single Nyx. She would have taken the justified risk, not tried to avoid the battle, and probably died, but with honor in the line of duty, as befits a warrior. Seven cared too much about herself; she was not worthy of the title of leader.               Filled with bitterness over her loss and searing hatred, Thirteen proudly lifted her chin, crossed her arms over her chest, and spoke mockingly: "Megatron won't like that we let Optimus Prime go alive. And he'll especially dislike the fact that this is the second time it's happened under your command. The sisters can confirm this; they won't lie to Megatron. And he may think that you're loyal to the wrong side."       The Seventh kept her eyes fixed on her sister, burning her with cold fury, then, snorting in admiration, smiled. And rammed her forehead into Thirteen's nose. Her head flew back; she lost her balance, but the commander didn't let her fall. Seven grabbed the Nyx and slammed her face into a knee. Then she threw her to the ground and kicked her, eliciting a painful gasp from the opponent. Thirteen rolled onto her back, managing to dodge the next attack, and her opponent's fist struck the spot where her head had been a second ago. The younger Nyx tried to respond, but unsuccessfully. Seven grabbed her by the throat and, with ease, as if the entire transformer weighed nothing, slammed her back against the wall of the gorge. Then again and again, she hit the back of her head against the metal surface.  “I am a warrior,” Thirteen croaked, “and I deserve the death of a warrior!” “You are nothing,” Seven growled furiously into the Nyx's face, “and you deserve nothing! You will obey me or die!”       Without waiting for a response, she threw her sister aside. Thirteen rolled across the ground, scraping her armor against the metal surface, got to her knees, and spat out the energon that had accumulated in her mouth. Pulling herself together and steadying her voice, Seven calmly addressed the squad: “Does anyone else have a problem with my orders?”       The Nyxes, who had been standing aside all this time, remained silent. Five looked down uncertainly, Eight shook her head slightly, and Two looked defiantly into her commander's eyes, but did not say a word.       Meeting no further resistance, Seven strode toward Thirteen. The Nyx reflexively covered her head with her hands, expecting another blow, but it did not come. Seven, casting a contemptuous glance at her defeated opponent, simply stepped over her and walked on.