They left the mausoleum to make their way through the city and Wing watched anxiously from his place at Zero's chest as they emerged... and was completely unprepared for what he saw. Zero hadn't been wrong. The entire city was still and silent in ways he had never seen, had never hoped to see. The streets were barren and dull, the buildings dark and devoid of life. The only light came from a massive hole in the ceiling of the cavern they had hollowed out to create the city from Theophany's sun. It must have been midday on the surface, but if there was as little light from their artificial environment, then something had happened to the Metrotitan as well.

Wing whimpered to see it, spark gripped in agony though there was little physically holding it in his frame. Everyone was gone. The whole city had been evacuated and abandoned, and it had been so for a very, very long time. "My home..."

Grief had him paralyzed, but the jet was far from relaxed. He wanted not to see it, but he couldn't tear his optics from the sight, hoping that maybe around the corner, behind that door, down this road, he might find someone who had stayed behind, someone who hadn't left.

But they heard no other voice, saw no other Cybertronian wandering the grounds. The farther they moved into the city, the farther Wing's spark sunk. When Zero looked to him for direction, he pointed him two streets down an adjoining bridge and a large building that had once been white and pristine and beautiful. Now it sat in a state of slow ruin. If the outside looked as bad as the inside, Wing wondered if the supplies that had been left behind, if any, were even worth the effort, but they had a chance. The inside of the mausoleum had been decent enough, at least.