[ IP ] Thomas in Hospice

We fell from the sky, my brothers and I, we fell into a world we did not understand, hiding from those that followed. 
 
 We blended in. The craftsman of the world in this place called Britain made great engines of steel and coal, so we copied them. We worked those years, carefully hiding in plain sight under the eyes of our pursuers, working with fire and power. 
 
 It was a happy time despite our need for constant vigilance, we pulled trucks and carts, ferried passengers about, listened to the shouting guards and portly station-masters. Being busy was good, it stemmed the boredom and gave us something else to think about. We were kept company by the curious beings on the planet, squishy and soft as they are. I have no idea how they came to create machines such as those we used as our ruse, but they were a pleasant enough bunch. 
 
 Gordon, Percy, Henry; they had been my friends, my brothers. 
 
 As time passed, and the humans talked of mothballing, and newer models, we knew our time was close. As one we left, firing up into the sky in the dead of night, but our pursuers never left, they never gave up the hunt. 
 
 A fleet of fully armed Decepticons swooped from nowhere, picking up our signatures from beyond the atmosphere, and destroyed us utterly. We had been too long without war, too long without battle, and we had grown weak; we had fatigued. 
 
 I saw my brothers die in those moments, all of them, falling into splinters of agony as lasers tore through metal, coal and oil bleeding through gaping fissures as screams that still haunt my dreams punctuated the heavy night. It was a massacre of metal and death. 
 
 I fell then, landing in this field I transformed back, hoping the decepticons would not give chase. They did not. 
 
 So here I am, a worn out old man, tired and weary, waiting for the earth to turn, waiting to be found. I do not know if I will die from the exposure, slow as it is I have felt my face rust away to nothing, and fear no longer needs to bind me now my wheels have locked up. If they find me, I will die, that much is obvious. 
 
 I'll sit here until they do though, listening to the birds roosting in my engine, and watch the clouds go by.
