“Jazz… I just wonder what we are.” Prowl looked confused. “My CPU must be inoperating or… missing”
“You don’t have one. We are toys.”
“Toys?”
“Dude, just look at us. We are all plastic. That’s not an armor!”
“Than how… Why I feel me myself?”
“Somehow we still contain a part of our real personality. And consciousness.”
“And where we are?” asked Prowl from his seemingly better informed companion.
“As far as I know we are on somebody’s desk.”
“We stuck here. In these tiny bodies. No way to home.” concluded Prowl in despair.
“At least we have each other” Jazz tried to comfort his partner. “C’mon man, look the better half. The war is over for us. You didn’t die, I didn’t die and that gal’ bought us together.”
“But… we are all alone.”
“Not quite. Behind you are Bluestreak and Optimus.”
Prowl turned around. With narrowed optics he looked up to two towering mechs.
“They look different… Blue… so big…”
“Another toy line. And Prime is made of Lego bricks.” explained Jazz patiently.
“Nobody is from our crew.”
“Wait, here we have Tracks.”
“He is in a terrible shape! He’s broken, can’t even transform!”
“And there’s Inferno, too.” Jazz went on pointing to the last bot standing in a shadowed corner.
“Yes… without his Red” whispered the Datsun.
“Poor guy.” Jazz sounded sympathizing. Prowl moved closer. Their shoulder tires touched.
“At least we have each other” he repeated.