Autobot-7712 File

He walked to his bunk. He did not recharge. He sat in the dark and thought about what it meant to be a number. To be 7712. To be Zero.

“They already did,” she whispered. “I’m not Petal anymore. I’m Unit-512. A malfunctioning piece of equipment.” autobot-7712

“Unit-512. Former designation: Petal .” He walked to his bunk

Not because he was worthless. Because before every patrol into the irradiated slag-heaps of the Thrace Sector, he would look at his mission clock and say, “Zero hour. Time to find out if I’m still alive.” To be 7712

They had been stationed at Outpost Theta-9 for six weeks. The Decepticons were thirty klicks north, dug into a derelict spacebridge hub. Neither side had enough ammo for a real fight. So they bled each other slowly: snipers, mines, sabotage.

The designation was , but the mechs on the front lines called him “Zero.”

But he remembered. And that, he decided, was the only victory left.