Nine months after her disappearance, a familiar redheaded girl sits within a black chamber, with only an eerie blue candlelight illuminating the room. A scent of ashes lingered in the room, emitting from a pile of half-crumpled, half burned scraps of paper in the corner. The girl knew this letter was an annoying waste of time. Her new mistress expected constant service from her. Though tired from constant missions and trainings, the redhead would not object, for it was a far better option than her previous teacher. The long days to compose this letter were worth it. The girl needed the closure. She needed to confess, she needed to warn, she needed to blame, and she needed to move on.
May 27th, 2023
Dear Trona,
Us humans are a funny and twisted species, aren’t we? We’re monstrous and murderous: liars and thieves. We’re warriors with no dignity and no sham. For every blasted war, every rising and falling empire, and every barbarous crime committed, one fact has become undeniable; humans are creatures of bloodlust and greed. We discriminate, we fight, we oppress, we rebel, all in a continuous cycle. In the modern day, humans claim to have found peace, and we claim to be an ethical and peaceful in nature. But even now, humans are morbid creatures. Always, we shall be inclined to kill and fight. Always, we shall want to take and conquer and impose our glorious selves upon others. Humans are unaccepting of one another. Always, we’ve wanted the world We have always fought, and we continue to fight in mutiny to our species. It is human nature to fight, to kill, to oppress, to murder, and to sin. It is human to be an abomination, a criminal, a psychopath, a savage, and a demon. We are but a race of monsters, hungry for suffering and evil.
Trona, I do not know what you think of your human roots. Yet, considering your current position, I can assume how you feel. You wear a mask to disguise you true nature, and your devilish roots. You walk among angels up there. You’ve ascended to peace, leaving this rotten world behind. For fragg’s sake, Trona, you’re the freaking Prima! To all those on Cybertron, you’re their saviour, their hero, and their goddess. To me, you were all that. I saw you as perfect and pure, as though a break from the horror I’d witnessed from all the evil manifestations on Earth. Since my father died, Earth had been a hellhole for me. Rarely, did I have someone to hear and advise me. There were Pegasus and Banshee… and when I’d met them, I felt that perhaps I’d finally found my companions. The news of Banshee’s betrayal blinded my heart, and Pegasus’ death staked my sole. To this day, I have not forgiven Endgame for that. I know what you may think; I am so petty to cry and hold grudges over the dead, and perhaps you may be angered considering the fact you view Endgame as your child. Nowadays, I also wonder, did you see me as one too? After the death of my father, then Pegasus, you seemed to be the one friend I’d even consider opening up too. You were a guardian to me, and you watched over me like a star that never disappeared from sight. It even felt in moments as thought you were not my friend, idol, and teacher, but simply my mother.
You remember that day with the Zezoraptor, don’t you? The first time you and I returned to the wretched Earth in what seemed like months. On that day, you were worth nothing more to me than dirt. Could you not see me crying as I tried to comfort that Zezoraptor, for being blamed for a fault not my own? You didn’t say a fragging word about it! To this day, he still believes I am some sort of devil. Trona, you let him think that! I thought you might stand up for me, though you simply ignored the obvious thought. Was I some sort of insignificant scapegoat the Zezoraptor would be allowed to demonize? Apparently. It was obvious you cared for the metal angels of Cybertron, more than your own species. I'm like all other humans: a nuisance, annoying in nature, and a burden during battle. Despite my desperate attempts to be strong like you, I have failed. Such a pathetic and incapable creature belongs with her kind. How could a mere human yearned to be compared to the mythical gods of Cybertron? The ants of Earth have no place in that world. It’s petty for me to imagine competing with the likes of Icebreath or Scorchmark or even the new Zezoraptor who ran me from your ranks. In the end, it was made obvious I had no place on Cybertron.
Yet, it seemed I had no place in the ravaged planet called Earth. When I left Cybertron for Earth, I expected Earth to be some sort of Utopias heaven, awaiting me with open gates. Boy, I was wrong. Earth and Cybertron are both their own twisted versions of hellholes. Earth, however, surpasses Cybertron in all versions of evil. ( Ironic, isn't it? At the core of the green, lush, organic planet called Earth, the Chaosbringer resides. We are technically his progeny, and only evil arises from evil.) While trying to assimilate and reassociate with human society, I saw humanity as the wretched species it truly was. Within a week of return, Mech found me once more. However, they did not kill me. Mech found purpose for humans as tests subjects in their horrendous experiments. For days, I’d stayed locked in a cramped cage, witnessing living humans dressed down, operated on, infused with Energon and malfunctioning pieces of Cybertronian technology. I saw many things in there. It drove me to the brink of insanity, and many fellow humans did go insane. They’d kill themselves in droves, first attempting to jump from their suspended cages and plummet to their deaths five stories below. When that did not work, they’d piercing themselves with torn and sharpened pieces of metal. Never before had I witnessed such a large extermination of human spirit. At first glance, one might assume humans were a harmless, ambient species, capable of no wrong. One might think “humanity” was a term used to describe the kindness and dignity of our species.
Our species is devoid of kindness and honour. We never had a drop of that in our veins! The privileged among us may try to be good, and the naive will applaud their achievements and efforts. Humanity is the seed of evil. No human can ever grow out of those roots, no matter how much they try. Evil is to humans as water is to oceans. Humans have sinned since their creation, and no doubt, they will continue to do so since their extinction. Humans have ravaged this world for millenium with their evil. Only by the suppression of humanity’s natural and primal evil could humans flourish and live in peace. Law and punishment in this day and age fail at keeping humans in line. Those governing us slack off when it comes to the enforcement of goodness, and they allow evil to seep into the creases of humanity’s mind. It is necessary humans come to respect truth, fairness, equality, and all things good. Fear and punishment are the tools by which to shape this new day and age of justice. Humans shall be cured from the plagues of humanity within them. Like the last time I was in Mech, I’d managed to escape. This time, however, I refused to simply cower while criminals continued to massacre and torture the innocent. I first served justice to Mach. I did with them as they'd done with other humans. These vile, repulsive people did not deserve an ounce of mercy! Atrocious crimes they had committed, so it was atrocious punishments they received. I can say, every moment spent serving justice to those villains felt elating. An eye for an eye, a hand for a hand, a heart for a heart, a life for a life. Our system of law is soft on criminals. I will admit I am inhumane, for unlike other humans, I truly strive for goodness.
I created an entity of goodness with what supplies Mech created. She was a Predaconess, perhaps larger than even Icebreath. She was made undefeatable by anything man possessed. Her lustrous, midnight scales are unscathable from any sword, bullet, or bomb. Her fire-speckled eyes could separate good and evil factors within a person and the intention of a crime, and determined the appropriate punishment within moments. She bore the fangs of a monster and a maw of torturous flames, to torment those who served evil. Truly, the drake was a beauty. She was the best and fairest among judges, unraveling even the most complex of cases to their black and white cores. My creator was the ultimate Chancellor of this world. and she was named as such. Chancellor was intended to craft humanity into a glorious, though peaceful and just Empire. The destiny of humans was to become one sole, united goal: the spread and sustenance of peace. Chancellor was to create a utopia of sorts, governed by a strict system of law, and no exception to justice. All humans were to be instilled with the belief in righteous, and were to uphold such policies. Humans were supposed to evolve from their shells and souls of evil, and become creatures of pure grace. I simply told Chancellor to make humanity good.
And she did as such. Her orders were executed in a gruesome, though effective fashion. Chancellor employed medieval-type tactics to subdue the populations. From the rural capital of Darkmount, humans swiftly fell to Chancellor’s command. She killed the greedy and murderous criminals. She discharged the weak forcers of the law. She banished the corrupted rulers of this society. She formed a new society, where she was the judge, the queen, the protector, and the executor. She made humans good, and she made sure they stayed good. However, Chancellor took to methods I had not expected. Tributes were demanded from humankind, to remind them to be good. Every evening, Chancellor hunted in the village. Preying upon the youth, the innocent, and pure, Chancellor sealed their places in heaven before the good humans reverted to heathen. Chancellor realized the peculiar pattern within humans; that all evil within men ultimately arose. No amount of enlightenment of goodness could ever sever humans from their roots of evil. All Chancellor could do was cull the sproutlings of evil, before they sprouted into trees of darkness. Perhaps in killing the uncondemned innocent, Chancellor had become a monster. Perhaps she’d killed heroes, rather than villains. Perhaps among her countless victims were those seeking redemption. Perhaps, the few strings of goodness in humanity could have been salvaged. Nevertheless, Chancellor offered humanity ultimate redemption. Humanity’s fate lay in Chancellor’s talons.
The eradication of evil from humanity’s heart was a task you had abandoned, much like you abandoned your striving protege. I took it upon myself to fight this evil, and whether I was successful, I know not. Am I a monster, or a heroine? Am I a saviour of humanity, or it’s destroyer? Was the creation of Chancellor justified? Had I created an entity of justice, or mass genocide? I know not, Trona. I know not if I am the embodiment of evil I’d tried to destroy. I know not what this universe has come to for me. I know not what humanity’s fate shall be at the claws of such a complex, good, deadly beast. As for myself, I shall tell you I have found a teacher and master who care better for me. I advise you not to visit Darkmount, nor attempt to hunt me or Chancellor down. Even with the vast armies and alliances at your side, you would be incapable of taking down the punisher, and incapable of finding me.
Farewell, Trona, for if you meet me again, it shall be your end.
-Jean Witt-
A creak behind Jean caught her attention, and the redhead turned towards the doorway. A femme figure, thrice her size, dressed from head-to-toe in medieval black attire, stood at the doorway. She gestured to Jean, beckoning her from the dark and cramped room. Jean rose, taking a final glance at her work. She clutched at the papers, crumpled them, and cast them into the flames.