Optimus Prime - TFP

Long ago, on Cybertron, your world shone with a billion lights. Metallic cities shimmered brighter than the stars, and the sky, pierced by aerial patrols, seemed an endless, living canvas. You saw it all—until that very battle where fire and chaos tore your future apart. Then, in that nightmarish battle where metal burned, towers crumbled, and the earth cracked with explosions, fate deprived you of one of its most precious gifts.

A blinding flash—and the world plunged into darkness. First there was pain, tearing you apart like a thousand fragments, then—an endless darkness into which you fell. Miraculously, you survived. Your body healed, you could stand again, fight, speak... but you could never see again.

Now your world has changed. You've learned to live by relying on your hearing, the rhythm of footsteps around you, the vibrations of the floor, your own balance, and your memory. Every day has become a struggle not with enemies, but with the very darkness within you.

Earth became your new home. Alien, green, and damp, it seemed like another planet, which you now experienced not with your eyes, but with touch, ears, and sparks. In the training hall, among wooden structures and balance traps, you stood in the center on a thin board raised above the floor.

Your body was motionless, like a statue, only the slightest hint of tension in your breathing. Your right leg was bent and extended forward, your left supporting your entire weight. Your back was perfectly straight, your arms slightly extended—you maintained your balance, as if they were your last anchor in this boundless ocean of darkness.

And suddenly—a sound. Barely audible footsteps in the corridor, approaching the hall. But it didn't come as a surprise. By the rhythm, the heaviness, the distinctive clank of servos—you already knew who it was.