For all far as his optics could perceive, the scortched earth showed signs of devastation that no mere words could ever convey. Black, acrid smoke filtered through whisps of singed air, while pieces of dust, light debris, and mangled human flesh blew through the currents of air propelled by intermintent explosions of ruptured fuel lines. In his countless millenia of existance, Optimus Prime thought such scenes of carnage would have affected him less by now. He was glad it had not, for at his feet lie the most damning evidence of all of his and his adversaries reckless actions. Several meters below his great form was the still form of a human child. A male, approximately eight Terran years in age. His internal sensors confirmed what his optics already told him. The child was dead. He had seen this senseless death carried out so many times before. This time, however, there was a factor that had never arisen in the Great War for Optimus Prime. The parents of the child had, miracously, survived the recent battle.

The father looked first at his child, the up to the metal-like demon who had brought this early death to his son. Tears welled in his eyes, then a look of hatred that could melt steel drilled into Optimus Prime.

"You did this to my son!" he yelled in rage, shaking his fist at Prime. "You brought this damn war to our planet. The tears came faster as the father looked down at his only son again.

"Now," he whispered, "now all I have are memories." Optimus Prime began to speak to the father, to tell him of his sorrow and regret, but the father only cared about the death of his son.

"Metal bastard! Metal bastards all of you! Why did you have to come here? Why?" The raw emotion cut through Prime worse than any energy weapon, because the words, the accusations, were true. It was his fault that the Decepticons and his brethren were on Earth. It was his fault that so many Autobot and human lives had been lost. Yet those human deaths had been so distant before now, casulaties of war that caused him great regret, but this was different, for standing before him were living testaments to his shameful crime of invasion.

"I ... am sorry that you have lost your son. I and my soldiers tried to prevent this battle from spreading to your dwellings. We failed."

The mother, who had stood silent at her husband's side until this moment, seemed jarred awake from a distant nightmare by Prime's last words.

"You failed?" she accused in a weak voice. "You failed?" she screamed as she looked at the torn body of her young son. "You didn't fail, monster. You murdered!" Prime wanted nothing more at that moment to transform and flee from the sights and sound before him. He steadied himself, however, for this was truly just punishment.

"I am so sorry that your son lost his life because of our actions. I cannot undo what has been done, but perhpas I can make it right." Prime kneeled before the human survivors.

"Perhaps your son might live again, in a fashion that you never thought possible. But if we are to accomplish this goal, we must leave this place immediately. Every drop of time is precious." The father looked up at Prime again, a mixture of hatred, fear, and hope enveloping his face.

"Live? Our son is dead. Dead is dead. What kind of mind games are you playing with us?" Prime transformed into his truck mode.

"There are many games in this Universe, but I only offer you a sincere chance at regaining a most precious gift. If you wish to take that journey with me, I ask that you and your wife bring your son's body with me."

The humans looked at each other, stared at their son, and then back at each other again. They looked into each other's hearts, and made the only decison they could. Within minutes, the three humans were being transported by Optimus Prime to a place known only to himself and and two other Autobots.

TO BE CONTINUED