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malewife-overlord · 1 month ago

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Six Cycles Later -- Part X

Chapter summary: Vengeance looks good on you.

tags: robogore, gore, violence, body horror, death, cannibalism/siphonism

word count: 6588

previous chapter is here, start is here, next is here.

fic below cut!

That was the last time she’d trust an Autobot. That was what Puncture told herself as she walked along the seabed, prize clenched in her right claw, servos of her left twitching in anticipation. Behind her, folded up like a cube puzzle, were the remains of the Autobot she’d dispatched.

For such a large opponent he’d been a shockingly easy fight. He was almost as big as she was, and after listening to him announce himself, she’d felt quite eager about engaging. An Autobot who came equipped with war weapons and wanted to fight honorably would have to be something worth investing her time in, she’d thought.

She’d been right, in a way. He’d definitely been partially worth it. Their clash hadn’t bored her to tears like the others she’d slain. She’d ambushed him, gotten the first hit, and displaced his staff with a brutal swipe. He’d fired straight into her chest, but her armor had held, and what might have been a fatal shot once had only left a particularly irksome gouge instead. From there she’d tackled him over the bridge, using the body of the Seeker to knock him off his balance, and shoved him below the water.

That had been a mistake–the staff had electrified the water. They’d both spasmed as the current ran through them, causing her to seize and him to squirm.

It had been an uproar of foam and splashing. She’d seen him trembling on spasming knees.At the sound of his T-Cog activating she’d snarled.

Oh Pit no. You don’t escape me that easily.

She’d lunged, wrapping her claws around the tail of his alt mode as he’d launched out of the spaceship window. Her weight had thrown him off balance, sent him immediately spiraling downwards. They’d crashed into the trees together, uprooting the cages and creating a rain of dead organics.

She’d landed on her back and struggled to flip over for a moment, immediately chastising herself for her weakness. In The Pit the seconds she’d taken would have been enough to kill her. To be a proper gladiator, proud, strong, and undefeated, she couldn’t risk leaving herself vulnerable for even a second.

But with her luck, the Autobot hadn’t taken advantage of that. He’d crashed nearby and staggered on one knee, gritting his dentae and threatening to keel over. Still, as she’d bared her claws and approached, he’d glared and pointed his blaster again, a panel on his shoulder opening to reveal missile launchers.

Impressive, she’d thought. Something that could actually hurt her. But even as he’d prepared to launch them, it was apparent to her that he was in pain. She could take advantage of that.

“You don’t win this,” she’d said, circling around him like a shark. Beneath her mask, venom broiled. “Surrender, Autobot, and I’ll make your death quick.”

“I can’t,” he said back, keeping his blaster trained on her. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t. Monsters like you don’t belong on this planet.”

“Is that so.” And her mask had vertically split, releasing a wave of venom as she buzzed out a roar.

It had hit his eyes. He’d screamed and staggered back, blaster firing rapidly as he tried to wipe the stuff off. That had been her opening.

And from there she’d pinned him beneath the water, dug her claws into his helm, and prepared to claim her trophy.

That was when she’d paused. The Autobot below her was a cargo plane, and a large one at that. He was big enough to carry her and the Seeker. Under almost every other circumstance Puncture would have killed him and moved on with her day, but the circumstances she’d found herself in were special.

Namely, she was alone, out of touch, and grounded on a planet she knew nothing of. And here, out of the ether, Primus had delivered her a mode of transportation that only put up a little bit of a fight. If she killed him, she’d have to manually transform and fly him, and she knew nothing of piloting.

So instead of claiming her helm trophy, Puncture had decided she would take the entire Autobot. All it had taken was piercing her claws straight into his brain and demanding access to his navigation systems. And don’t even think about calling for help, or flying to an Autobot base.

She’d pinched his brain between her claws, just for effect.

On the way out she’d cast a final look at the ship that had imprisoned her for so long and flipped it off. Something had been moving in there, but it wasn’t her problem. A flightless Seeker had no place in the Decepticon cause. This was just natural selection at its finest.

It had all been going so well until he’d decided to crash himself into the ocean. The navigation systems she’d hacked told her the island they were heading to was important. Surely it had to have something she could use, like Energon, or a working space bridge. Before she could confirm what that was, though, the Autobot had offed himself, so for all she knew he’d marked this place falsely and she was walking into a dead zone.

She supposed that was what she got for trusting an Autobot. Self-sacrificing fools, the lot of them.

At least she’d made it out with a trophy. His helm leaked pink Energon into the blue ocean water around her, leaving a trail behind her as she marched for the island they’d been flying to. There were no guarantees this place was worth anything, unfortunately, but she’d take dry land as opposed to the vast ocean.

An orange glare was cast over the surface of the ocean water as she approached it. Before her helm even breached, she could guess as to why. Breaking the surface of the water, her suspicions were promptly confirmed: the island before her was a pyro of flame and stone.

It was a small thing, only a few miles at max. Beginning with a beach surrounded by jagged boulders, the land quickly turned into a sheer rock face, upon the top of which grew dozens of green organics. They were all blackened crisps, shedding their ash to the pale beach below and turning it gray with soot.

And upon that beach there was an Autobot. As Puncture breached the water fully, trophy clutched in her right claw, her systems performed a quick scan over the femme awaiting her. She was a standard issue female Autobot, gray and black in color (whether that was from soot or not she could only guess). In one hand she held a military rifle, the kind designed to fire heavy bolts that would pierce through any armor class.

Good. An actual weapon that would sting. Pain was the best teacher, after all, and once she’d ripped it from the Autobot’s corpse, she could make use of it herself.

There was only one off thing about the Autobot: she had no Autobrand displayed anywhere on her body. Odd.

The Autobot suddenly trained her rifle and Puncture paused in her step. Ocean waves licked at her cadulens. As the wind picked up, it brought a hot and dry gust with it, dotting the water around her with soot.

“Hell–”

“Gimme yer name,” the Autobot said, her voice low and dangerous. Her servo was tight around the rifle’s trigger, barrel pointed for Puncture’s helm. “I wanna know who took my best friend from me.”

Puncture scoffed, raising the helm in her claws. “Your best friend? This honorable fool was a bot you considered an equal?” She laughed. “Well don’t just stand there!”

And with a flick of her wrist she sent his helm flying through the air to embed itself on the beach.

“Fetch.”

The Autobot’s optics widened with rage, rifle shaking in her hands. But she didn’t fire. Not yet.

“Tell. Me. Your. Name.” She growled. “Or I’ll rip it from the fried remains of your brain.”

“Hm! Puncture. I am Puncture of The Pit.” She leaned forward for emphasis, spreading her claws. “I am of the highest standing in my home and have sent far stronger than you to the Afterspark, Autobot. Not only were they bigger…” she took a step, “and more equipped…” and another, “and fitted with powers to bail them out of what fights they couldn’t handle, they were paid to fight to the death, and had eliminated every bot they had come across. Until. They. Met. Me.”

The Autobot fired. A streak of laserbolt sheared one of her antennae off. Her systems immediately screamed a damage report and were promptly suppressed. Puncture’s optics glowed slightly as the Autobot reloaded, aiming again before she could gain any ground.

“You stay right there,” she threatened. “Be a shame to blast your helm off ‘fore I’m done fryin’ it.”

She huffed, narrowing her optics. “Oh really? You think you can do it, Autobot? You think you’ll be any different from your allies? From your friend?”

“You don’t know me.”

“And you don’t know me.”

She kept her distance, circling around the Autobot, clearing the water and making it onto sand. A rush on such uneven terrain would give her several new injuries, and with the gouge the cargo plane had given her, a well-aimed blast could be fatal. Yet all she needed to do was to grab this Autobot once and it would be over. She calculated the risk of a charge as the wind picked up again, bringing a few flames between them.

The Autobot kept her rifle trained the entire time, never losing focus. She noted that there was something about her hands that seemed off–unlike average Cybertronians, her servos had pads on the end of them. Wires ran their length and down her arm, vanishing into the crook of her elbow.

It would probably be beneficial not to let her make physical contact, then. Years of facing unknown opponents in the arena had told her that before a charge, one must never underestimate their opponent. Years of killing Autobots in the field like they were turbofoxes had dulled that instinct a bit, but observing the fearlessness of this particular one was giving her pause. No one who couldn’t back it up stood so fearlessly against their foe.

Her optics were slightly unfocused. She was crunching numbers while watching Puncture, yet her aim never wavered and her grip remained steady. This was no fresh recruit.

Oh, this would be fun. They were both dancing around one another, waiting for an opening, a weakness. If she charged, she risked injury without any form of aid, possibly ending in death. If the Autobot charged, if she fired and missed, if she didn’t hit the fatal wound, she risked death.

The prospect was so exciting to her she almost began to buzz.

Her pede kicked against the helm of the Autobot she’d killed, and Puncture stopped in her circling. Casting a quick glance downwards, she had an idea.

“Tell me, Autobot!” she declared, gesturing with a claw. “What was his name? You were so eager for mine. Was he even worth a designation? Or did he die a nobody?”

“You ain’t worth his name.” Her tone remained even. “I know what you’re doin’. Tryin’ to rile me up. Tryin’ to get an openin’. You ain’t gettin’ that, gladiator.”

“Not fool enough for emotions, Autobot?” She smirked. “Good. I hate an opponent who kills themselves with their mistakes. Failing to take advantage of openings, failing to punish faults, failing to make that vital first move, and most importantly of all, failing…”

Her claw hooked the edge of the Autobot helm and, in a single motion, she launched it at the Autobot.

“TO FIGHT DIRTY!”

And she charged.

The Autobot dodged to the side, discharging her rifle as Puncture swiped where she had just stood. The bolt singed into the left of her chassis, smoke curling as she opened her mask and spat forth a wave of venom. Swift as a turbofox the Autobot raised her rifle to the oncoming wave and moved back, blocking the majority of droplets with its sacrifice. The metal began to melt as she flipped a switch on the side and threw it straight for Puncture’s helm.

She raised her claw to block the projectile right as it exploded. A flash of pink was all she saw as the blast knocked her back, smashing her against the rock face. Her systems buzzed with damage reports as her vision momentarily glitched.

And the Autobot was on her in a millisecond, punching her clean in the face. Blunt pain exploded in her faceplate, worsened when her helm smacked against the stone again. It struck her again, again, again, aga–

She didn’t need her vision to grab the fist about to hit her again, crushing it with ease between her claws. Through the sounds of twisting metal she heard the Autobot hiss. Her other claw was at her waist in a second, deadly tips poking against wires with only the slightest press.

“Was that all?” She taunted, turning to face the Autobot again. Her vision was slightly blurred, but she could make out the rage in her optics. “You wasted your opening to punch me in the face, instead of going for the spark?”

The Autobot roared, free arm punching clean through her visor. The pads on her servos tapped onto her inner working all at once and an electrical current ran through her. Puncture’s vision suddenly failed, her systems forcibly redirected into her memory banks.

And she was no longer on the beach. She stood in a dark alley, the buildings around her forming walls so great she could not see their ends. Before her the path stretched into endless darkness. Behind her was the clamor of death itself.

The walls all closed in at once. Puncture grunted and slammed her claws against them, holding them off with brute force alone. The clamoring behind her grew louder and the path before her began to fall away.

She risked a look back.

Rapidly approaching was a creature made of wires and sharp points. Burning flames formed its spark and poured over its broken chassis. Its faceplate had been torn up, exposing its skeletal understructure. Tentacles formed from spines burst from its back, each tipped with claws sharp enough to tear steel. And as she met its yellow eyes, she felt the spark in her chest skip a beat.

The walls closed in even tighter. Her arms creaked with strain, pain shooting through her body. The ground beneath her feet was threatening to crumble at any moment.

If she gave up, she’d be crushed. If she held on, she’d either fall or be eaten. Perhaps both at once. That thing was gaining distance fast. Its claws scraped the metal eagerly. And yet despite it all…

She wasn’t afraid. Her systems were screaming for her to be. But she wasn’t.

She couldn’t be. It was the first thing they took. Fighters who were afraid would run. Fighters who were afraid would hesitate. Fighters who were afraid made poor entertainment. If you felt fear, you didn’t make it in The Pit.

She remembered the day it was taken from her as clearly as she remembered coming online. The overlord had gripped her by her chin and told her to hold still. She’d watched his fingers open and turn into drills. And with no anesthesia, he’d drilled straight into her brain.

The scraping that had echoed through her mind would never leave her. As it rang through her head, the entire world melted away. Suddenly she was standing on the metallic surface of a brain, and over her hovered the largest drill she’d ever seen. It spun, shrieking with anticipation as it approached her.

Her pedes were frozen. Looking down she saw hundreds of holes from which Energon poured. Floating within the pools like flecks of soot were parts, familiar parts painted with the colors of bots she’d once known.

Brilliant silver wings, brilliant silver claws. Delicate glassy eyes and a chain woven from the finest tungsten available. Massive hands, massive enough to crush a bots chassis between them. An eyepatch that hid the scar given for insubordination. Two life chords split around a large helm that connected to a brain delicately held between dentae. And in the midst of it all…

Her own head, empty and devoid of substance. Not the ugly Insecticon one attached to her shoulders. No, it was her. The real her, with her two curved horns and trifecta of spikes. There were her two red eyes, glassy and always broken from fighting. There were her dermas and her dented cheek and the uneven curve on the left of her helm that resulted from Sparks trying and failing to give her a new style.

The drill was just above her head. Not her real one. The one she inhabited now, by no choice of her own. She looked at her claws and found they were melting. Her entire body was melting.

The body that she had been given, that she never wanted, that entrapped her like a cocoon, was melting away.

And in the face of death, she laughed.

The drill collided with her helm and splattered the world with its droplets. Yet still her laugh echoed through the space with its gurgle. As her body fell away, taking her mind with it, she laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

There was nothing else she could do.

—--

Even as the shocks ran up her arms and the pain began to fry her wires from the inside out, Channel continued to torture her prisoner. It was her last resort and by Primus would she make it count. If it killed them both, she didn’t care. If it ruined her forever, she didn’t care. Puncture would pay for killing Uptick. It would pay for taking the last thread of her joy away. She’d take its name and erase it from history and die with the knowledge that while Uptick would live on in someone’s memory, Puncture was gone forever.

But damn, was it a fighter. Anyone else would have died from spark failure following incredible stressing of the mind–she would know. It wasn’t the first time she’d killed someone by doing this.

That was what had locked her onto Cybertron. She could kill anyone, small, large, weak, strong, impossibly defensive, impossibly offensive. One touch, and their death was guaranteed.

One touch, and she could take away pain. One touch, and she could take away fear. One touch, and she could make her patients as happy as their forging day. And this war had turned her into a machine whose greatest power was killing.

Damn them all. Damn them for ruining her. Damn them for ruining Uptick. Damn them for sending Rotors to his death for information that would prove useless in the grand scheme of things. Damn them for leaving her entire regiment to die on that field, to die on a foreign planet, and taking the Ark to hide away for four million years. Damn Optimus Prime for dying so foolishly playing hero. And damn the Matrix for picking someone so incompetent and apathetic he couldn’t even be bothered to visit Earth after being endowed.

This entire war was so pointless. What were they fighting against? The future of their own species? Whether they drove other planets to extinction under the guise of defending them from Decepticons, burying their organics beneath gunfire and rushing pedes, or conquered them in the name of cyberforming, they were still eliminating entire worlds in the name of Cybertron. Earth was just another rock that would be fought upon, crushed into dirt, and abandoned when neither side could find use for it anymore.

She’d seen it happen with hundreds of other planets. She’d seen how pointless the fighting had become. Energon was always in short supply. No Matrix endowments would fix that. And whether it was made peacefully or violently, it would drain the resources of other planets during its creation.

If they did not crush a planet beneath their bodies they would drain it for its fuel. One way or another, everything her kind touched died.

Perhaps she was just the personification of that. And here, on the planet where the war was supposedly decided, she was dying in her final attempt to end the fighting.

Oh, how ironic it all was.

Her systems blared warnings. The claw around her waist gripped tighter, breaking wires and bending plating. Her body was so hot the wind now had a chill to it. But no matter what, she would kill this Decepticon.

For Globetrotter.

A shriek suddenly sounded through the air. It was a sound so familiar to her, one that always sent a bolt of fear down her spine. It was a sound that portended a barrage of laser fire. It was a sound that promised a chase on foot after her alt mode was disabled. It came in threes, and was often accompanied by laughter.

It was the roar of a Seeker’s engine. And it was rapidly growing louder.

What was it that Uptick had said? He couldn’t take them. He couldn’t take either of them.

The one beneath her was only one of them.

Fear ran down her spine as charged lightning. She looked over her shoulder, optics scanning the sky in terror. And there, piercing through the air like a needle, was the green and pink shape of the Seeker.

Her focus broke. Channel tore her servos from Puncture’s helm and squirmed desperately in its grip. Her danger sensor was shrieking so loud it almost drowned out the roar of the engines, system flaring with hundreds of warnings. Red covered her vision, blaring over and over as the Seeker drew closer.

The Rainmaker. Acid Storm. The remembrance of acidic droplets melting her plating helped her tear her broken arm off, leaving behind a mess of sparking wires. One blockade gone, one to go. But she could not tear off her hips so easily.

And even if she could, she would not make it far. He was here.

Acid Storm banked up as he shot over the beach, backflipping to transform back. He did it without the deadly grace of his kind, landing heavily on two damaged pedes. His wings were inverted, just as she’d seen in Starburst’s memories, and his front completely stained with Energon. But unlike in Starburst’s memories, the gray of death had crept into his servos, his side was torn open and bleeding out its own T-Cog, and his face was gone.

All she could see of it were two glowing white optics.

“Get. Off. Of. Him.” He threatened. Channel raised an arm in surrender. It wasn’t enough. “Only I get to kill him.”

“Look, I ain’t know what you two got goin’ on, but I–”

“SHUT UP! SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!” Acid Storm staggered forward, clawing at his arm, pulling off what looked like a spine. With each step he moved mysterious gears on it, unfolding the decoration into a familiar shape.

A sniper rifle. It was the ugliest one she’d ever seen, but if there was one thing she knew about unnatural looking weapons, it was that they were often more dangerous than the proper ones.

Channel gritted her teeth and strained against the claws keeping her in place. Her body shrieked from the damage the movement inflicted.

Acid Storm seemed to find amusement in that. “What’s wrong?” He asked, a giggle in his voice. “Are you scared of me? But I’m just a little Seeker, aren’t I? A little nobody?”

“I ain’t–”

“SHUT THE FRAG UP!” The rifle was complete now, and pointed straight at her helm. His arms were shaking, but despite it all he was smiling. At least, she thought he was. It was difficult to tell with the lack of a faceplate. “You don’t talk unless I say you do. Got that, Autobot scum?”

When she gave no answer he went on. “You really think you’ve won this planet, don’t you? You really think we’re all dead? You run around on the land like you own the place. And all the while you pretend, saying these organics are your friends.” His laugh sounded pained. “And what do I do? Where am I forced to hide? Beneath the ocean, for cycles. While you play with these WORTHLESS organics.”

He suddenly gagged, spitting out a stream of thin, water diluted Energon.

“ALL BECAUSE I’M A SEEKER! You…you left me! You LEFT ME! THEY ALL LEFT ME!”

He was screaming now.

“They think I’m so worthless! They all think I’m weak! Autobot, Decepticon! Ally, enemy! Well I’LL show you who’s weak! I’ll show you ALL!”

He moved his hand from the trigger on his rifle and dug his servos into his chassis, pulling at the broken cockpit as if attempting to rip it open.

“Do you want to know something, Autobot? How old do you think I am? Speak.”

Channel arched an optical ridge. “A Seeker, huh? Anywhere from four million t–”

“WRONG!” He fired.

The laser bolt that missed her by several feet hit the stone and exploded with so much force that shards buried themselves in the sand on the other side of the beach. Her audials momentarily broke. The Seeker trembled as if his spark was threatening to burst.

“I’m only one million. Such a small number, right?” He leaned forward, tilting his head as he made eye contact. “Do you know how many I’ve killed, in that time?”

She didn’t answer, afraid that this time, he wouldn’t miss. But beyond that, her optics detected movement at the edge of the cliff. A hand with five long needles was running along the stone, tracking Acid Storm’s movements perfectly.

“Tell me, Autobot. Do you know about the Haumerian Massacre?”

The Haumerian Massacre. She knew it well. Following the disappearance of the Ark, the Autobots had split into several groups and retreated to four separate planets near Cybertron. The Haumerian Massacre was the name coined for the disappearance of one of those groups.

But there was a problem.

“That…that was 3.5 million years ago.”

Despite his lack of a face, the Seeker smiled.

“Do you believe in the Afterspark, Autobot?”

“I–”

“Don’t. Because trust me when I say this: I’ve been. There is life after death. But it isn’t what you think.” He clawed even more at his cockpit. She caught a glimpse of something that looked mechanical where his spark chamber should have been. “Do you want to know what it’s like?”

She didn’t get the chance to answer. Puncture stirred beneath her, claws flexing against her already damaged waist. Channel screamed in pain. The Seeker hissed, training his rifle on Puncture’s helm instead.

And from the ridge above them, the thing in the pyre leaped.

It all happened at once. The blazing, half melted thing landed on Acid Storm, taking him to the floor as its tentacles pierced into his plating. He screamed with an agony so rich she disabled her audials, which kept her from hearing everyone else’s as his side suddenly lit up. Bolts of white energy shot out from him and connected with them all.

It was a pain so great her systems momentarily offlined. She shrieked with all she had left in her, her T-cog seizing and her functions grinding to a halt. An endless stream of warnings told her about the glitches running rampant through her system. Overheat was inevitable. Her body broke, and after all these years, finally rejected her.

As if decapitated by an invisible scythe, Channel’s head fell clean off her body, landing on the sand besides Puncture’s massive form.

Then it unfolded itself into a tiny, black robot, whose Autobot insignia was on her back. She looked around in terror at the writhing mass before her and the massive monster trembling behind her. And with the desperation that drives parents to eat their young, she bolted into the ocean, leaving behind the titans who’d so cruelly decided her fate.

—----

She’d practically torn her T-Cog out, but she didn’t care. Invert grabbed the tentacle spasming above her and rose to her feet, planting her pedes as she swung with the force of her whole body. The thing slammed into the rock face behind her. Bending to grab her rifle with one hand, she twisted her T-Cog even more. Energy was flowing from her into it, and each streak made it contort even more.

Her legs no longer felt ready to collapse. Her arms no longer felt numb. The rage pumping through her must have deafened the side effects. Or perhaps death was so close to her now, its effects no longer hindered her. Whatever the case, Invert didn’t care. Her ability was working to her benefit, and she would not pass up this opportunity.

“Feel my pain. Feel my pain,” she spat. “I’ll take you down with me, and we’ll both die horrible deaths, and I’ll come back in that tub of sentio metallico while your body smelts into someone’s next part, isn’t that nice? Won’t that be so nice?”

She purged more watery energon as she approached the thing. By consuming what had seeped into the swamp and sucking from every drying wire in the dead Autobots, she’d acquired enough fuel to fly. It had been filthy and humiliating, even more than being awoken by the shocks from that Autobot’s weapon while he struggled with Puncture. She’d been unable to speak, unable to ask for help or congratulate her ally.

And then said ally had left her, like her previous allies had, like Shockwave had, like her trine had, like the Autobots had. That was all any of them ever did. She was just a thing to be thrown away and abandoned.

And she’d had enough.

The monster was all wires and twisted plating. It sparkchamber was exposed as it rolled on its back, arching from the energy pouring into it. Removing her hand from her T-Cog, she trained her rifle on its vital organ.

Which was when it truly hit her: she wasn’t in pain.

The last time she’d used her ability, it had completely incapacitated her. The pain had been almost unbearable. And when it was done, her frame had felt cold.

That was how it had always been. In the million years she’d had her ability, it had never once left her unscathed.

She looked to her servos and saw they were completely gray. So were her forearms. It was spreading, and soon she’d have to abandon this frame as well. But despite the death literally crawling over her, she wasn’t in pain.

What development was this?

Despite the fact that her T-Cog was practically hanging out of her side, she felt it shift of its own will. Looking to her wings, she saw they’d moved to a proper upright position.

In the million years he’d spent studying her, Shockwave hadn’t once managed to fix her wings. And yet here, on this beach, after using the ability he blamed on her inversion, they’d miraculously fixed themselves.

It was a shock so great her rage melted, and her fingers suddenly felt much weaker on the trigger than they had a moment ago. She stared down at the still creature in the sand, the thing that had somehow caused this miracle.

As far as monsters went, it was a poor excuse. Skeletal in nature, its warped and jagged plating covered onto only the essentials. Its abdomen had been replaced with what looked like clear glass, displaying an empty chamber full of glowing liquid. On its head were the remnants of a blue helm, now cut into a three-fold crest, the middle of which held a large cracked jewel. From its shoulders and back sprouted six tentacles which resembled spines. Four were tipped with deadly claws, but two bore purple hands.

Its optics opened. They were yellow and surprisingly alive. As they fell on her they widened with fear. The creature suddenly animated and scrambled back, two of its tentacles wrapping around itself.

“Who are you!? Where am I?! What–” It raised a hand defensively, then stared at the appendage in horror. “What…what…happened to me?!”

She furrowed her optical ridges. “You attacked me, and I shocked you. Who are you? No, what are you? Why aren’t you inanimate on the floor?”

“I-I don’t know! What’s going on!?”

The Insecticon groaned. Invert turned cold eyes on him.

“You.”

His one optic was onlining, indicated by the red glow behind his broken visor. There was a hole in his head where the Autobot had punched clean into it. He turned his head slightly, focusing on Invert.

“See…ker…” he said weakly. “You’re…alive…”

“Of course I am,” she snapped. “Did you really thing–”

“Your…ability…sucks.” He laughed weakly. “Frag…you.”

Invert growled. “Frag you too, glitch. Oh, and before I kill you? I saved your life. No matter how strong you think you are, a Seeker is the one who saved your aft.” She spat a pink blob on his side. “Deal with it.”

“Wait,” the creature cut in, “who are you? Both of you! Why are you aiming a rifle at him?! No one needs to die, we can–”

The ocean suddenly exploded. Invert jerked back, looking to the source as a massive cargo plane burst forth from the waves, soaring into the sky. The Autobot insignia was emblazoned on its side.

They all watched as the plane shot over the island and disappeared, the roar of its engines slowly fading away beyond the crackling of organics. Even the fire was dying down now, having consumed what it could of the island and leveling out into a fine layer of ash.

She frowned, turning her attention back to the Insecticon, then the creature. If an Autobot had just escaped the island, they’d be back with more. She had limited time to escape the island and return to Victory. This time, however, it wouldn’t be to wait.

No, frag that. They’d left her behind on Earth. To the Decepticon cause she was nothing but a worthless, weak Seeker. There was only one ‘Con who saw any worth in her, even if it was the worst kind, and he was lightyears away, still waiting on Cybertron.

Cybertron, where ‘Cons like her ruled and Energon was at least available in rations beyond a single cube. Frag Earth. The Autobots could have this planet.

She huffed and approached the Insecticon, keeping her rifle trained on his head.

“You know what? I’ve changed my mind. I think it’ll be fine to leave you here. The Autobots can always use a few more prisoners.”

She could feel his glare. Invert didn’t care. He could rot in an Autobot cell for the rest of his days. It was a far worse fate than death, and he would know it. Death was a mercy. There was no fate crueler than its denial.

“But first, you’re going to pay your due.”

Her Energon levels were less than half, and she’d need more to return to Victory. There were several singes on his plating that, if she hit them hard enough, they’d leak. One looked like it could be fatal if she struck it hard enough. His face was bleeding from the hole in it. She could take her pick of wounds…

If only they weren’t too kind for someone like him.

Turning the dial on her rifle down, she aimed at his shoulder and fired. The bolt pierced clean through him and several feet into the stone. The arm fell away and Energon poured from its source.

Invert didn’t even need to kneel to bring her intake to the source. She could feel the hate radiating from him and taste it in the bitterness of his processed fuel. Good. That was what the strongest Decepticons were made of.

Only when she’d drank her fill did she back off and give him an impish smile.

“You might wanna get that looked at, if you ever find someone stupid enough to care about you.”

Then she turned back to the creature, the strange thing that had stabilized her, given her proper wings, and taken away her pain. Of course she had to take it with her. Something about it filled a piece in her that was missing, or perhaps took away the excess she suffered from. More study, as Shockwave would say, was needed. She couldn’t let this blessing escape her, even if it had tried to kill her.

It backed away from her as she approached, trying to give it a friendly smile. Was something wrong with her face? It looked so scared.

“Why are you backing off? I’m trying to help you,” she said. “Cmon, get up. I’m going to get us off this island. There’s a way better place for us eight hours from here.”

“I...uh…I don’t really…trust…you…” It said, tentacles wavering uncertainly. She rolled her eyes.

“Okay, let’s get names out of the way then. I’m Invert. Who are you?”

“Um…Luster.” He looked at the brand on her wings. “You’re a Decepticon.”

“Yes, I am. It’s the winning team. And what are you? A monster in the middle of nowhere?”

He looked at his hands, tentacles sagging.

“Look, allegiance doesn’t matter right now. Do you want to rot on this island with no Energon and no friends, or do you want to come with me and have a chance at getting off this awful rock?”

“Off this awful rock?”

“Off this planet! We’re going back to Cybertron. Frag Earth, this place is awful. The Autobots can keep it. Have you ever met an Autobot? They’re a bunch of sappy idiots. And if they want to play with these gross organics all day, they can have it!”

“I…yes, they…they can have it,” he echoed, shakily moving to his feet. They were too thin to support his weight and almost immediately gave out. Instead, the tentacles on his lower back came to his rescue, bracing against the ground to let him walk.

He was like a newly forged sparkling. She found it charming. “Alright then, Luster, ever flown in a jet?”

“Uh…no.”

“Well, you’re about to learn!” She ordered herself to transform, letting the natural feeling that had always felt so unnatural wash over her like a gentle wave. No longer was it a tide of confusion, balance problems, and navigation issues. Her body felt normal, natural, and proper, even though it wasn’t hers.

She cheerfully popped her broken cockpit, sending its last few glass shards flying. “Now get in!”

Luster cringed at the sight, even more so when a glass shard hit him. He was hesitant, looking around at the island, at the Insecticon, at the sky, as if he expected rescue to come at any given moment. Only when she fired up her engines in warning did he finally move, carrying himself to her cockpit, looking in warily, and finally clambering in.

He was so light she could forget he was there. Good, it meant she’d have an easy flight.

“Alright, hold on, my seat belts don’t work and if you fall out I can’t guarantee I’ll catch you in time!”

“Wait, wha–”

Her cockpit closed and her engines powered up, and with the ease befitting a proper Seeker, not a half-formed failure who couldn’t even take off without help, Invert shot into the air.

The charred island and its sole occupant were left behind.

#six cycles later #my writing #my ocs #tf ocs #maccadam #oc: luster #oc: channel #oc: puncture #oc: invert #AND HERE WE ARE #AFTER ALL THIS TIME #have some casual bombshells dropped on you #ooooo whats goin on?#anyways uhhhh next chapter will be 'epilogue' i think. or the finishing chapter.#which will transition into...

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