#I AM A FULLY GROWN CYBERTRONIAN!!!!! JUST BECAUSE I AM YOUNGER

[youarebeing-deceived]

[sketchnskribbles]

A03 | Rectifying Fallacies

The rhythmic clacking of keys echoed through the main room of the hidden mesa base. The noise was level. Controllable. Soothing. A familiar presence. One of the few things that this organic planet had in common with his wonderful homeworld.

It brought a sense of ease that lulled him into the calm of a mindless task. A quiet chore that brought a peace that he could hardly find at any other point within this senseless war. 

A silent alarm popped up in the bottom right corner of his screen and he gritted his denta at the reminder that the children were nearly done with their last day of school before summer break. Because that was just what they needed. Sparklings underpede. 

He shuttered his optics, stretched his digits, and continued his current job. He only had a few short earth hours before the next two months. Which would be filled with youngling fun and fancy free. An absolute boon to the war effort, he was sure. Note the sarcasm. 

He pushed away the souring thoughts. They wouldn't serve anything other than ruin his mood more than it already was. 

He'd gotten back into his groove when a Deception proximity alarm screamed through the mesa. 

A window concerning the potential danger popped up in front of his work and he nearly threw one of his tools in a fit of rage. He didn't, as he was a fully grown cybertronian and he needed those tools.

He maximized the window and narrowed his optics at the information. The signal was unknown. Meaning that it wasn't of any decepticon that they'd been in contact with since they'd moved into this mesa. Magnificent. He wished yet again that they had access to Teletraan I. But Primus-only-knew where the Ark was in this blasted universe.

The bot sighed and notified his team of the disturbance. He got four acknowledgements and ETAs. The heavy pedefalls of his oldest and closest friend coming near brought down some of his frustrated anger. He breathed in a deep breath and closed out of all his open programs. Leaving only the map showing the signal.

Moving away from his monitors, he turned around to greet his Prime. "Optimus."

"Ratchet." The deep baritone welcomed back. The Prime settled his hand on his shoulder plating and giving it a comforting squeeze, as he walked past. He peered at the screens to oversee the tripped alarm and hummed in consideration. That familiar gleam of the infamous strategist brightened up his gaze. "It is of unknown origin."

"Indeed. A new menace to grapple with." The older bot rolled his eyes.

"Or… perhaps a weary soul in need of better allies?" The Prime retorted back with his usual bout of hope.

"As if any Con would understand the meaning of the word." The medic huffed. "You expect too much out of thieves, societal rejects, and ex-convicts."

For a moment, the taller bot looked surprised. Then pained. Ratchet felt a lurch at his spark when he actually took the time to analyze his words. 

He blinked and pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor. There he went, shoving his pede into his derma. Again. "I… I'm sorry Optimus. That came out wrong."

"But full of truth." His leader gently chided. That look of disappointment never faltered. Ratchet sighed and looked away.

"I am sorry. You know of my past and how I was raised… but that is no excuse." Ratchet felt the familiar weight of his friend's servo land back on his shoulder. A comforting weight. Forgiving. The old bot looked back over to the younger mech. They smiled.

Optimus looked back up to the signal and then teasingly back down to the medic. "What do you say we scout out the signal together? It's rather close to being time for our charges to be picked up by their guardians."

"I'd say we're asking for trouble."

"Hmm, that doesn't sound like a no to me." Optimus had already inserted the coordinates into the ground bridge, powering it up. 

Ratchet felt the tell tale of a ping reverberate through him. One that he was sure was felt by the rest of the team. It notified the rest of their orders from the Prime, to retrieve their humans and to join them at base on standby at the soonest opportunity.

There were more pings that flew in soon after. Full of complaints and acknowledgments. They were happily ignored as the two walked through the gate. 

It led into a road through a forest of trees. 

From the position specified on their internal maps, they were about a couple hours away from the heavily populated city of Los Angeles.

It was honestly not too far away from their own home base in Nevada. Less than a day, even. Which was much too close for comfort in Ratchet's opinion. 

He followed Optimus through the trees. Their optics to the skies as they scanned for the source of the signature. It didn't take very long to find the jet. 

They heard the engine long before they caught sight of it. A worryingly familiar palette of purple and black made it ever obvious just who it was, despite the unfamiliar altmode.

" Skywarp." Ratchet growled, his optics narrowing at the jet above. 

He slipped a servo into his subspace and brought out a tiny gadget given to him by Wheeljack. The wrecker had created it on a whim and given it to the medic proclaiming that it needed to be "field-tested" by the team. 

He hadn't yet brought it up with Optimus. A fact that was backed up when the Prime looked down at the medic's arm cannon in confusion while Ratchet inserted the device within a small port that seamlessly opened up.

"...What is that, old friend?" Optimus looked back up to meet Ratchet's optics, wariness pooling in his own. The medic didn't hold the same concerns.

"Jackie said he needed this field-tested. So here it is!" His answer didn't seem to be to his leader's satisfaction.

"Ratchet… let's not be too hasty." A servo found its way over top of his weapon. With enough pressure to imply that he needed to put it down, rather than forcing him to do so. The medic rolled his optics.

"If all goes well, it'll merely incapacitate him. Not kill him. Wheeljack knows of how you operate and wouldn't dare to go outside of those bounds." Ratchet looked over to his old friend, the corners of his lips curling downward the slightest bit. "For all my misgivings with him, I know he respects you too much to do something like that."

With that said, the old medic took aim. An optic closed as he aligned the sights with the plane overhead. He took the shot.

The old bot turned around to smile with pride at his leader, as the plane stalled in the distance. Blue arches of electricity danced along Skywarp’s frame as he was forced down to the ground by gravity.

“I'm quite surprised you actually agreed to test it, old friend.” Optimus sighed and shook his head when the ground shook and a few of the trees ahead cracked and fell. 

“Oh, no. I've run test after test on my terminal on this thing. Also checked the power output and many other things.” Ratchet nullified with a shrug. “I kind of liked the idea of temporarily incapacitating a foe. Just too bad that some of the materials to obtain it are either expensive or hard to obtain.”

“Is that so?” Optimus began his trek forward toward the decepticon. His medic, right on his heels.

A03 | Rectifying Fallacies

[fictionkinfessions]

Mmm I keep getting. Treated like I'm a sparkling. Just because of who I am. And I HATE it!!!! So much!!!! Like!!!! Ok yes I am younger than Optimus or Ratchet or whoever but!!!! I am still a fully grown Cybertronian!!!!! And I fought in a war!!!!! Just because I act sillier sometimes doesn't mean I'm not mature!!! And I am NOT "[your] little guy"!!!!!!!! And it's legit JUST because I'm a Bumblebee fictive. I hate this so much. But I guess I can always ignore it and just listen to music really loud. The Smiths don't care what my source is.

-Bumblebee, from the Bumblebee movie.

(Also, how ironic is it that my favorite band is The Smiths? Idk, I starting listening just because I missed Charlie but they genuinely grew on me.)

2

[writeyouin]

Starscream X Killstreak (OC) - Master and Pet - COMMISSION

A/N - Thank you to @littleartdump for commissioning me. It was so great to write this for you, and I loved working with your very detailed OC. The artwork wasn't done by me but by another user commissioned by littleartdump. I believe it was metalmutt on Deviantart, but I can't read the writing well enough on this because I have trouble reading on a purple background.

Description: During the events of TFP, Killstreak was created to battle alongside the Predacons. Unlike the others however, he is inclined to like Starscream and in turn, vows to protect him, even when forced to battle the leader of the Predacons, Predaking.

Warnings - None.

Rating - T

Killstreak blinked his optics for the first time, taking in the world around him. As far as he could tell, he was in a cave, but there was something wrong with it, something that assured him he wasn’t where he was meant to be.

Had Killstreak been a modern Cybertronian, his internal feed would have scanned the plants around him and informed him that he was on a planet billions of lightyears away from his own. It was a planet where organic life grew freely and the creatures weren’t made of living metal, but being less evolved than modern Cybertronians had its drawbacks, which brought Killstreak to another question; who was he?

After two more blinks, Killstreak looked around the cavern properly, taking his first steps in the world. He knew he was a powerful killing machine, craving war and violence instinctively. He also innately knew that he was a Predacon, but what did that mean? He was fully grown and should have had some memories of his life, but when he searched his memory banks, there was nothing; just a blank processor waiting to be filled.

On the opposite side of the cavern laboratory, Killstreak saw two other Predacons stepping out of their own test tubes, clearly going through the same processes as him. Words formed on his internal feed as he tried to figure out his companions. Brothers? Enemies?

No matter which they were, Killstreak felt an instinctual urge to battle them for dominance. They were of little concern however, as another Cybertronian stepped forward, though he was certainly not like the Predacons in the room.

“Predacons,” The bot addressed them, “I am your Creator, Shockwave. You have been constructed to serve our leader, Lord Megatron, and follow his orders to aid the Decepticon cause.”

Data started flooding Killstreak’s processor. Although he had never heard of the Decepticons or anything to do with them, he somehow knew a great deal about them. He glowered at Shockwave, certain that his Creator had implanted all the information Killstreak needed to know. Killstreak didn’t like that one bit; knowledge that hadn’t been earned was likely propaganda used to control those ignorant of anything else.

Despite his rage, Killstreak did not attack. Instead, he read his brethren’s body language, sensing that they would attack and do the work for him. He observed calmly as the other two Predacons lunged forward, attempting to close the gap between their creator in a battle of dominance.

Shockwave, having been prepared for every eventuality, including an attack from the brutish Predacons defended himself easily, holding them into place with inhibitor collars he had fitted around their necks. Once they were trapped, Shockwave looked expectantly at Killstreak, noting that he was calmer than the others and apparently more intelligent.

It was no surprise to the scientist, for in order to avoid a repeat of the incident that had happened with the so-called Predaking, the Predacons that he had chosen this time were of different time periods. Shockwave hypothesized that the two who were created from remains older than Predaking’s would have slower processors and would be slightly weaker. He also theorised that the one created from remains that were younger than Predaking’s would keep the superior strength and firepower, but would also be more suspectable to reason and logic.

Once Shockwave was certain that all three Predacons knew that he was in control, he released the other two from stasis and began talking in the straightforward manner he had been before, each sentence a clipped statement that offered no room for misunderstanding; he was a bot of science and logic, and as such had little time to waste on unimportant words.

“Predacons, you have been assigned the mission of destroying the remaining Autobot forces.”

As Shockwave stated that, the relevant information presented itself on Killstreak’s internal feed.

“Under Lord Megatron’s orders, you are to be given names. You two shall be Sky Lynx and Darksteel. You,” Shockwave glanced at the more powerful bot, “are Killstreak.”

While the three Predacons supposed that the names were so they could better obey orders, they were wrong; Megatron had ordered that they be given names so they would not fall prey to the same hubris as Predaking, making them less likely to try and depose Megatron as the true Decepticon leader.

Killstreak tested the name in his processor, then opened his mouth to try and sound it out, only managing to produce a ferocious growl instead.

Shockwave observed the behaviour, apparently feeling the need to comment on it, “Yes Killstreak, you know by now that you have the ability to communicate as modern Cybertronians do. However, it will take some time for your vocal synthesizers to fully form. You will also be able to transform from your root modes when the time comes, but you will only do so under our Lord’s orders.”

Killstreak growled again, though this time he was not trying to speak; the growl was merely a warning that when he got the ability to transform, he would do so, whenever the mood so took him.

“In the meantime, you have your first command,” Shockwave continued, ignoring the growl of Killstreak’s vocaliser and the furious lash of his tail. If the Predacon wished to attack, so be it; Shockwave would handle it.

“You are to report to the Nemesis for training with your new military commander, Starscream.”

Sky Lynx and Darksteel shared a look with one another, silently debating whether they should try attacking again. Killstreak bounded powerfully over to them, breathing a short burst of flame and then standing over them. To their credit, they didn’t cower, but nor did they challenge him. For now, Killstreak had proved his dominance; the two would no longer look to each other for their plans but to Killstreak.

Shockwave let the altercation occur unhindered by himself; he was simultaneously observing the Predacons’ actions as a scientist whilst allowing the three to display some of their natural behaviours. It was better they form their pack ranks quickly, instead of battling for dominance aboard the Nemesis.

The three Predacons stood proudly during their inspection by Lord Megatron, his scrutinizing glare examining them for all their worth. Even though the Decepticon leader wasn’t a Predacon, he was clearly powerful and not to be trifled with; any battle with him was sure to be gruelling, and until Killstreak was more certain of himself, he didn’t need to pick mindless fights.

Megatron hummed in thought, addressing Shockwave when he next spoke, “And these three will be more obedient than the last one?”

“That is yet to be determined, my Liege,” Shockwave answered honestly, having no way to ensure the Predacons’ loyalty. “Until we can trust them to obey, I have fitted them with collars to prevent any unnecessary damage.”

Megatron sneered. Although he knew the inhibitor collars were a wise move, he didn’t care for them. Let the Predacons battle his Decepticon armada; if they did, they would be turned into scrap metal. Still, the collars would serve one fundamental purpose; they would allow Megatron to test Starscream’s dedication to the Decepticon cause.

“Starscream,” Megatron called, awaiting his lieutenant’s hasty arrival.

“Yes, my Liege,” Starscream rushed forward from where he had been hiding in the tunnel behind Megatron, avoiding the Predacons’ detection until then.

“You are to train these Predacons to serve the Decepticon cause,” Megatron commanded. “Do better than last time.”

“Yes, Lord Megatron. Of course,” Starscream answered obediently.

Admittedly, he was disheartened to have the grim task of training more of the primitive Predacons, who were far too brutish in nature for his tastes. However, since they were fitted with inhibitor collars, Starscream didn’t think the task would be wholly unmanageable; at least he would have a manner in which to control the unruly beasts this time. If he had been provided with an inhibitor collar for that dim-witted Predaking, perhaps things would have worked in his favour.

Megatron turned to leave with Shockwave at his heels, but he growled one more order before leaving, taking grim satisfaction in doing so. “Shockwave, remove the inhibitor collars. Our new allies should be free to do as they wish, don’t you think.”

“Master!” Starscream squealed, running towards Megatron. “Master, no! The Predacons are brutes! They need to be controlled! Don’t remove the collars, I implore you.”

Megatron turned around, smacking Starscream to the floor, “You will do as I say, you incompetent whelp, and this time you will succeed.”

Starscream cowered as Megatron closed the gap between them, bending down threateningly towards his lieutenant. “Consider this your final warning.”

With that, Megatron and Shockwave returned to the interior of the Nemesis, leaving Starscream alone with the new Predacons for the first time. Starscream hurried to scramble to his feet, just in time to hear the crash of three inhibitor collars hitting the deck.

He turned and examined the three Predacons, wondering whether they would be as intelligent as Predaking was, or whether Shockwave might have altered their coding to limit their intellect into a more primal mode; for his sake, Starscream hoped that Shockwave had.

While Starscream observed the Predacons, they examined him in return. Killstreak tilted his draconic head this way and that, examining Starscream from every angle. Compared to him, Starscream was minuscule, his slender frame offering little in means of protection, but perhaps a great deal in means of agility. Megatron and Shockwave had proved themselves to be threats with their slightly bigger frames, but Killstreak was confident that if it came to a battle, he would be able to defeat them, though he would likely sustain injuries; Starscream on the other hand, didn’t appear to be a threat.

Despite the fact that Starscream was clearly a weaker bot, Killstreak didn’t find him to be inferior. Instead, he assumed that Starscream must have a great processor capable of plotting superior strategies that had led him to his high-ranking position within the Decepticon armada.

Killstreak reserved any more thoughts as Starscream cleared his vocaliser to speak, pacing as he did. “Predacons, I am your commanding officer, Starscream, and you primitive lifeforms will treat me with the respect I deserve, or suffer the consequences!”

During his pacing, Starscream had reached a panel on the wall and from it, he pulled out an electric prod, capable of shocking even those with the thickest armoured plating. Killstreak didn’t fear the prod, despite being informed of its power outage by his processing unit. Instead, he admired the way that Starscream had so casually retrieved it, never running which would have caused the Predacons to attack on instinct; by offering one hand and arming the other, Starscream had made himself respectable to Killstreak at least.

Sky Lynx and Darksteel, on the other hand, didn’t care for their new ‘master’ and their distaste showed on their faceplates, though Starscream didn’t recognise the expression as he continued his speech.

“I say jump, you say- ARGHH!” Starscream let out a high-pitched scream as Sky Lynx pounced, landing on Starscream’s chassis and clamping his jaws around the arm that held the electric prod.

Darksteel on the other hand let out a deep rumbling laugh that sounded like two metal plates scraping together since his vocal synthesizer had yet to fully form. He joined his companion, circling Starscream and meandering ever closer with each lap around him.

Killstreak watched momentarily, allowing the small bot a chance to prove his strength. Alas, when it became clear that Starscream couldn’t defend himself against the Predacons, Killstreak decided to step in, feeling an innate desire to protect the commander like he was Killstreak’s very own mate.

Killstreak roared majestically, ordering Sky Lynx and Darksteel to end their attack. The two bots were already forgetting their place, lashing their tails angrily back and forth as they considered combining their strength to battle Killstreak.

Thinking faster than the two Predacons ever could, Killstreak span in a tight circle, using his mighty tail to knock them into the wall, denting the ship in the process. Starscream scrambled up, using the electric prod liberally on both Sky Lynx and Darksteel.

“YOU. STUPID. BEASTS.” Starscream raged indignantly, repeatedly striking them, having apparently not learned anything from his time with Predaking. “How dare you attack your commanding officer!”

Killstreak grinned, though it appeared to be more of a leer in his beast-mode; so, the small bot had some fight in him after all.

“And you,” Starscream turned his attention glaringly upon Killstreak. “You should have aided me sooner!”

With that, Starscream struck Killstreak with the electric prod, and pain coursed through his circuitry with each excruciating second that Starscream held it in place.

Finally, Killstreak was released from his torment, and as he recovered, he couldn’t help admiring Starscream for having the backbone to challenge him.

‘Yes!’ Killstreak thought proudly. ‘I shall protect you, for you are far too adorable to leave defenceless.’

At his inner monologue, Killstreak found his tail wagging lazily, the first sign that he had chosen someone worthy of his attention. Sky Lynx and Darksteel tried to get up, but Starscream attacked them viciously, using the electric prod with no remorse; it would be a long time before he looked at any Predacon with anything more than contempt.

Sky Lynx, Darksteel, and Killstreak stood in the middle of the Grand Canyon awaiting Starscream to arrive and give them new orders. It was the first time that they had left the Nemesis for more than a short flight, and the Predacons were fascinated with the organic terrain they stood upon.

Eager to finally have some room to brawl, Sky Lynx and Darksteel barrelled into one another, testing their strength and agility in a game known to all Predacons. Though Killstreak longed to join the skirmish, he was their leader, not their friend, and he had an image to maintain; no matter how fun crashing into rocks or clashing against a foe’s metal was, Killstreak began the more important task of mapping his environment, scenting the air and occasionally letting out a screech for the purpose of echolocation.

In the midst of his exploration, Killstreak scented the air, his forked glossa tasting his environment. When he had done so previously, all he had scented was the arid expanse around him, filled with rocks, sand, and dirt. Now, his olfactory senses picked up on large quantities of metal, cheap oil, and low-grade energon; he surmised that there was a group of Decepticon Vehicons coming his way and growled to let his pack know.

Sky Lynx and Darksteel ended their brawl, eager for actual enemies to battle, even though they were supposed to be on the same side as the Decepticons. Killstreak gnashed his thangs irritably; it seemed that his two underlings would never learn their place.

Yet, instead of attacking the whelps, Killstreak scented the air again, detecting something else among the Vehicons with his superior senses. He realised with relish that it was a scent he knew. High-grade energon, indicating an equally high rank, the invigorating smell of clean water, the kind which only came from the Nemesis’ wash racks, and fresh wax which had been meticulously buffed into Cybertronian metal; it was the delectable smell of Starscream, and it brought Killstreak out of his previously annoyed state.

The Predacons looked up to find a team of twenty flying Vehicons, comprised of jets and helicopters alike, led by Starscream, sleek as ever in his superior Seeker jet mode.

Starscream somersaulted in the air, showing off as he transformed mid-flip, landing gracefully on the ground in a manner Killstreak couldn’t help admiring. Predacons were strong and fast, but they were rarely graceful, unlike the evolved bot that stood before them. The Vehicons landed and transformed with less grace, preferring practicality over impressive entrances, like the obedient soldiers they were trained to be.

“Predacons,” Starscream addressed his charges distastefully, hating that he had to be associated with them in any manner.

Sky Lynx and Darksteel glared back at their ‘master’, equally displeased to be under his command. Killstreak watched Starscream in admiration, though he was careful to keep his stance ridged and military, giving Starscream the respect he deserved instead of displaying his adoration for all to see.

“Today is a training exercise for you to learn how to scrap every Autobot you see. Take down all twenty Vehicons, and you might stand a chance against those accursed Autobots.”

The Vehicons looked to one another uncertainly, evidently having not known that they were to be used as cannon fodder.

“You have 15 solar-minutes to complete this task. Vehicons, if you escape with your lives, you will be rewarded for your service to the Decepticon cause, by being allowed to carry on your pitiful existence. Am I clear?”

There was a chorus of, “Yes, Commander Starscream,” followed by salutes from the Vehicons, but it wasn’t their subservience Starscream sought and he glowered at the Predacons before him.

Sky Lynx and Darksteel communicated with each other through grunts, glad their vocalisers hadn’t fully developed yet so their conversation could go on undetected by any non-Predacons. The pair were considering ending the exercise early by scrapping Starscream.

Killstreak growled irritably and bounded over to them, pushing their heads to the floor with his mighty forepaws, making them bow to their new Commander. In turn, Killstreak also lowered his own head, and Starscream grinned darkly; he still despised the Predacons, but perhaps there was hope for them yet, or rather, at least there was hope for Killstreak.

Under Killstreak’s claws, Darksteel rumbled an insult that meant something along the lines of teacher’s pet, had the Predacons had the equivalent to a teacher anyway. Killstreak dipped his head lower, showing off his fangs which dripped with corrosive lubricant; he would not be tested by mere underlings and after his warning display, Darksteel fell resentfully quiet once again.

The exercise proved far too easy for the Predacons who had successfully dismantled the Vehicons despite their superior numbers. It had also been of great enjoyment to both Sky Lynx and Darksteel who had delighted in separating helms from bodies in a massacre that stained the ground with energon. Even Killstreak had taken great pleasure in the so-called training, having had a chance to use his corrosive venom for the first time, watching it eat through metal and circuitry alike. Evidently, the killing spree left Killstreak sated, though his blood-lust would likely re-emerge sooner rather than later; after all, there was nothing more thrilling than the hunt.

Starscream stared disgustedly at the carnage around him. A small part of him had hoped that the Predacons would fail their assignment, if only to prove that Shockwave’s experiment was a waste of time and resources. Then again, it was probably best that the Predacons had succeeded, for Starscream was certain that he would be blamed if they failed in any of their tasks; after all, Megatron seemed to blame him for everything, but what else could be expected from such a short-sighted fool?

After nudging a disembodied head with his pede, Starscream approached the Predacons, holding his servos behind his back in his usual military pose; many assumed he held such a position because it looked professional, but for the most part, Starscream always hid his servos because it gave him a chance to arm himself discreetly if he ever had cause to.

Starscream cleared his vocaliser, glancing from the corpses that surrounded him to the Predacons. Although they had done a good job, they would need to be the very best for Megatron to approve of them and as such, Starscream decided not to praise their work; after all, nobody had ever praised him in his long life, why did such prehistoric beasts deserve any better?

“You call that an accomplishment? I gave you fifteen solar-minutes. YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN DONE IN FIVE!”

Sky Lynx hissed while Darksteel growled; unlike before, they now wished that they could speak, if only to tell Starscream how they would dismember him in the future. Killstreak merely lashed his tail impatiently; he had little time for his subordinates’ antics.

“If it were up to me,” Starscream went on, half-yelling, “I would scrap the lot of you. Flashy aerial antics and foolish manoeuvres do not win a war, and when I tell Meg- AARGH!”

Starscream screamed in fear as Sky Lynx and Darksteel bounded towards him, ready to attack once again, but before they even made contact Killstreak was there, standing in front of his master and protecting him with a wall of fire.

Despite the intimidation tactics’ success, Killstreak had had enough of his two underlings who had clearly not paid enough attention to his previous outburst; evidently, intimidation wasn’t enough, and he needed a stronger deterrent to make sure they would stay in line.

Rearing up on his hind legs, Killstreak crashed down, slashing at Sky Lynx and Darksteel’s faces, his claws tearing through the metal, leaving them both with three deep cuts. Sky Lynx howled, rubbing his face against the ground to staunch the bleeding. Darksteel however was less focused on the pain and kept swinging his helm violently from side to side, trying to see through an optic that Killstreak had slashed the connecting wire to.

‘Good,’ Killstreak thought with a decisive snort. ‘Let this be a lesson to them. Perhaps I’ll let them be repaired on the ship if they bow down to me.’

Starscream stared in awe at Killstreak, who didn’t acknowledge him in return, too focused on his underlings; while they were injured and likely wouldn’t attack, it would be foolish to turn his back on them, just in case they acted in pitiful defiance or in a state of panic.

Starscream’s processor whirred into action as he considered the Predacon protecting him, re-evaluating him as an ally. ‘Killstreak obeys my commands. He respects me. With more time, he could even help me depose Megatron, making me the one true leader of the Decepticons.’

“Very good, Killstreak,” Starscream praised, getting up and brushing himself off.

Satisfied that Darksteel and Sky Lynx wouldn’t get back up without his permission, Killstreak finally looked round to Starscream, eager to be lauded by his Commander.

“You will be rewarded for protecting your Master.”

Killstreak wagged his tail enthusiastically, and Starscream raised his eyebrow-plates at the spectacle.

“Yes, well, ah, we should get back to the Nemesis, and I suppose we should take those ingrates back with us,” He gestured carelessly at the two injured Predacons

As an afterthought, Starscream commed Knockout, informing him that it would be his job to treat the Predacons.

“What?” Knockout asked dubiously over the comms. “I’m a medic, not a vet. I don’t know the first thing about treating Predacons.”

“Then learn,” Starscream responded harshly. “And send a clean-up crew down here to recover the offline. No point in wasting valuable materials.”

With that, Starscream ended the call, turning back to Killstreak. “Bring those two back to the ship, then come to my quarters; I have a new job for you.”

Though the flight back would be cumbersome whilst carrying Sky Lynx and Darksteel, Killstreak complied, ever loyal to his one and only master.

Once aboard the Nemesis, Killstreak found that he enjoyed his newfound reward. Under Starscream’s orders, Killstreak was to act as a personal bodyguard and protector to Starscream. Where Starscream went, Killstreak followed. When Starscream recharged, Killstreak sat outside his hab-suite, preventing others entry. When Starscream took a flight off the ship, Killstreak got the chance to stretch his wing rivets, constantly aware of his master’s safety.

While other Decepticons observed the pair with mild disdain or fear, Killstreak had never been happier. Starscream didn’t know it, but in ancient Predacon packs, ordering an underling to act as a protection detail was a show of trust and the original manner in which they chose their Conjunx Endurae. Naturally, Killstreak knew that this wasn’t Starscream’s manner of proposing anything more than an alliance, having used the ship’s computers to research modern Conjunx Ritus, but he was happy nevertheless.

Killstreak was also aware that his protection over Starscream didn’t put him in good standing with Sky Lynx or Darksteel, but the two hadn’t challenged him again since their previous uprising; Killstreak's show of power was enough to keep them in line.

As time marched on, Starscream grew more paranoid of an attack against him. It wasn’t anything new to him, after all, he had made a lot of enemies both Autobot and Decepticon, but for the first time, Starscream had someone to watch his back and he planned to use every tactical advantage in his arsenal to stay online. As such, he ordered Killstreak to meet him in his hab-suite, where he was certain his orders to the primitive Predacon would go unheard by those who might wish to dispose of him.

“Killstreak,” Starscream began majestically, only faltering when Killstreak wagged his tail enthusiastically, knocking over a desk in the process. “Stop that! I didn’t bring you in here to destroy my personal effects, you idiotic simpleton!”

Killstreak whined, sitting down so he wouldn’t cause any further damage.

“Good… That’s better,” Starscream mumbled awkwardly, unused to praising anyone. “I have a new command for you. While you have done an acceptable job of protecting me thus far, it has come to my attention that anyone could crawl through the vents and offline me during recharge. As such, you are no longer to separate from me at all. You will live in my hab-suite with me. Is that clear?”

Usually, Starscream would have expected Killstreak to incline his head in a nod of understanding, but what the Seeker didn’t know was that Killstreak had been practicing speech, now that his vocaliser had finally developed fully.

“Yes Master,” Killstreak answered obediently in a voice that rumbled like thunder; it was a voice that could screech an attack or sound like the calm before the storm, and for Starscream, it would always be the latter.

Starscream stumbled back, shocked by the development, “You can talk?!”

“Yes Master, as can Sky Lynx and Darksteel, though they have less reason to do so.”

Starscream sneered defiantly, “This changes nothing between us. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good.” Starscream looked around his hab-suite, searching for another topic that would put him back in control of the situation. “I suppose I shall have to clear some room for you.”

“That will not be necessary,” Killstreak assured Starscream, making him uneasy once again as he transformed into an alternate robot mode.

“Transforming too… You have been keeping secrets.”

Starscream didn’t like that one bit; he had to know everything about everyone if he was to remain in the running for ruling the known universe. “And the others?” He asked.

Killstreak shook his head, “Not yet, though it won’t be long before they realise that they too are capable of transformation.”

“Very well,” Starscream growled, considering his options.

While he didn’t care for Killstreak’s new abilities, he decided not to linger on them. After all, the Predacon was loyal to him and Starscream wasn’t foolish enough to lose his one true follower; the first step to building an army was to have the first soldier within it.  

“Nothing changes,” He said again, more decisively than before. “I need to recharge. Do your duty and protect me while I rest.”

With that, Starscream laid elegantly upon his berth, and though it took him a while to get comfortable with Killstreak in the room, he eventually managed to fall into a light recharge.

Though there was little space in the room, Killstreak transformed back to his root-mode, lying down next to the berth like a dog protecting its master. He placed his tail strategically against the door so anyone foolish enough to intrude would trip over it, giving him more than enough time to dispatch them.

Then, settling down, Killstreak watched Starscream recharge; it was the first of many nights together for the pair as the Autobot-Decepticon war raged on.

Killstreak groaned, struggling against the weight of the building that Predaking had pushed atop him. Earthen buildings would have been no problem for Killstreak to escape the weight of, but the Cybertronian metal structure was proving difficult to move.

Killstreak roared in frustration, a monstrous blast of fire escaping his mouth. It was natural that he and Predaking would come to blows upon meeting, but Killstreak knew he could have won the battle for leadership over the Predacons had it not been for Sky Lynx and Darksteel siding against him, interfering with their fight by using their combined forces to help Predaking defeat him.

Predaking landed before Killstreak with a mighty slam against the planet’s surface, transforming into his bot mode shortly thereafter.

“Things don’t have to end like this,” He told Killstreak in a tone that suggested he was about to issue an ultimatum.

Killstreak hissed in protest, glaring harder than ever when Sky Lynx and Darksteel landed behind their new leader, looking all too pleased with themselves.

“There are far too few of us for me to let you die,” Predaking said. “However, I have plans of revenge, and I have heard that you treat that fool Starscream like a spark-mate.”

Predaking shook his head distastefully, but didn’t comment further on Killstreak’s poor taste; after all, in a time when the Predacons knew nobody else, it was unsurprising that Killstreak might bond with one of the few options available.

“I make you an offer Killstreak,” Predaking boomed majestically. “Let this wreckage be your tomb, or accept me as your new leader, and don’t interfere when I take your previous Master offline.”

In no mood for games or conversation, Killstreak opened his maw, letting out a squirt of acid, a few drops of which landed on Predaking’s pede, corroding the metal away. To Predaking’s credit, he didn’t shy away or show any indication of the pain he was undoubtedly feeling. Instead, he merely looked at Killstreak darkly.

“A pity,” He stated. “You could have been my second. Now, you’ll die here.”

Not the type to gloat, Predaking transformed, bounding away before leaping into the open air and flying away. Sky Lynx and Darksteel shared a smug look before following their new leader, and Killstreak was left mercifully alone, thinking about how he would escape before they got to Starscream.

With metal pinning down everything but his head, Killstreak knew he wouldn’t be able to manoeuvre himself well enough to use his acid to create a means of escape. Nor could he use brute strength to get him out from the position he was in. That left only transforming, but to do so would be risky; while transforming might allow Killstreak to shimmy free through one of the smaller gaps in the metal, it might also cause it to crush him if it moved too much.

Killstreak considered the conundrum for a few more seconds. Well, if the metal did crush him, he would be no worse off than he was currently. Opting for the one tactic that gave him a chance at not only his own survival, but Starscream’s as well, Killstreak transformed.

As he’d suspected, the metal held in place, allowing Killstreak the space to shimmy forward, though he was careful not to rush to his escape in case he knocked any of the building’s supporting structures.

 Once free, Killstreak wasted no time in transforming back to his root-mode, stretching his wings to catch a gust of wind that would carry him hastily towards Starscream and Predaking. As he soared, Killstreak felt fury burning up inside him, becoming a force greater than he had ever known. If Predaking thought their battle was over, he was sorely mistaken, though this time, Killstreak didn’t care for leadership over the Predacons. Now, he only wanted revenge and to protect the one bot who mattered to him most in the universe; his spark-mate, Starscream.

While Killstreak couldn’t trace energy signatures like modern Cybertronians could, he didn’t need to, for his olfactory sensors brought him a steady stream of information and could do so from halfway across the planet if he so wished. Fortunately, Starscream was much closer than that, but so were the other Predacons; in the time it had taken Killstreak to escape, Predaking, Sky Lynx, and Darksteel had found their target.

Killstreak willed himself on, listening intently as his audio feed picked up on Predaking’s vocaliser. He could see them in the distance now and gnashed his dentae in frustration as the Predacons closed in on Starscream.

Starscream backed away from Predaking who spoke, his tone low and threatening, “I am not here to seize thrones, Starscream, but to settle scores.”

Killstreak narrowed his optics, picking his target. His earlier error had been in not considering Sky Lynx and Darksteel as threats; that wouldn’t happen again. Killstreak tucked his limbs close to his body, increasing his velocity. The aerial manoeuvre paid off greatly as he smashed into Darksteel, pushing him into Sky Lynx, and launching them both off the edge of the building.

After landing, Killstreak spun quickly and spat acid, but Predaking was prepared and dodged the attack. Then, a ferocious battle ensued.

Starscream was forced to watch the fight, unable to escape past the warring Predacons who fought over his life, one trying to extinguish it and the other attempting to preserve it.

“Behind you!” Starscream cried out as Sky Lynx and Darksteel reappeared, having recovered from their fall.

Killstreak spun around, using his armoured tail like a club and sweeping the lesser bots down. With a molten roar of fire, Killstreak managed to set Sky Lynx’s wing alight.

Taking advantage of Darksteel’s disoriented state, Starscream fired his arm missiles, one after the other, hitting the Predacon twice in the chassis and incapacitating him for the moment. With that, Killstreak was left to battle Predaking alone.

Killstreak could have said all manner of sentiments about how it would be an honourable duel now that Predaking didn’t have any underlings to aid him, but when in a battle to the death, who had the time for snappy words and over-the-top conversation that would do nothing to help him win?

Overall, it was a close fight, with both bots doing mass amounts of damage. Predaking tore Killstreak’s wing, melted the plating on his leg, and tore off his horn with a mighty blow. In return, Killstreak ripped away some of Predaking’s neck-wiring, unfortunately missing anything vital, dented his helm, and scorched his audial processors, throwing Predaking precariously off balance.

The two Predacons were almost equally matched, with one exception. The fossils which had been used to create Killstreak were half a million years younger than those used to make Predaking, and in that time, Predacons had evolved the venomous tubing that Killstreak relied on so heavily. Killstreak used it once again, managing to coat Predaking’s optics, blinding him completely as acid melted through metal.

Predaking roared in a mix of pain and fury, blindly lashing out. Killstreak transformed into his root-mode, hissing out the last words Predaking would ever hear.

“For my spark-mate,” He growled, puncturing Predaking’s spark-casing and extinguishing his life force.

After ensuring Sky Lynx and Darksteel were also offline for good, Killstreak was finally able to turn his attention to Starscream.

Starscream stared at him in shocked silence, uncertain of who was in control of the situation at that point.

Killstreak got to one knee, bowing to Starscream on his throne.

“My Liege,” He murmured, graciously inclining his head downwards.

‘And your spark-mate, apparently,’ Starscream thought sardonically, though he didn’t say so aloud. He was considering his relationship with Killstreak in a new light, wondering where he would go from there.

Starscream reached out to Killstreak, patting his head in an act that was somewhere between a master and a pet, and a loving Conjunx Endurae. While there were certainly some cultural differences he would have to learn if he was to pursue a relationship with Killstreak, Starscream would gladly do so as he thought of the hundreds of tactical advantages of keeping the universe’s only remaining Predacon as a spark-mate.

Like my work? Buy me a Ko-Fi.

[local-spoon-does-a-thing]

Found ( Part 1/2)

[(Bayverse) Optimus Prime x Reader)

A/N: Okay so this takes place during Transformers: Age of Extinction. When I was younger I loved the movie (mostly because it had dinosaurs) but once I re-watched it...yeah, it was meh for me. In my opinion, first film was better than the sequels. Anyways, I thought “hey, what would happen if reader was separated from Optimus then reunited after all these years?” And so, I did it. I’m dividing this into two parts since I don’t want to make this too long. The second part is mostly going to be the interaction between reader and Optimus. Also, the reader is like in early or mid-twenties.

You can find the second part here!

Summary: 5 years have passed since you last saw Optimus Prime, your guardian. Since then, you’ve traveled with the Autobots and went in hiding with them. Just as you were about to give up hope, Optimus summons the Autobots.

Warning: Angst, angst, angst, angst, spoilers for T:AOE

It’s been 5 years since you last saw Optimus Prime. Leader of the Autobots, your guardian and best friend. In the aftermath of the events in Chicago, you thought that everything would somewhat go back to normal. Hunting down more Decepticons with your teammates, going on missions together, having Optimus scold you for not doing your homework. Though of course, nothing would be the same without Ironhide. His death absolutely destroyed you. But greater matters were forced to be looked upon, such as the public starting to see the Autobots as a threat, which was very stupid considering that they saved the whole damn world, NEST disbanding, the ‘Bots having to be on the run, and finally, Optimus disappearing from the team. With your long time contribution to the team, you were hunted down as well. Cemetery Wind demanded information about the Cybertronians, every single piece of detail, but you didn’t let them. Now with you being wanted and labeled as a fugitive, you could never truly return to your normal life. Your future dream university? Say goodbye to that. Your friends and family? You left with Bumblebee, not wanting to put any of them in danger. If they were, then you knew that their blood would be on your hands and you just could not accept that.

You supported Bumblebee when he was suddenly assigned as the commanding leader of the Autobot refugees. Despite them belittling and discouraging him, you stayed by his side. You always wondered what Ironhide would’ve done. He would’ve probably done things his own way. What would Ratchet do? You missed the grumpy medic and him meddling about your health. And Optimus...you missed him. A lot. You missed the times where he would be off-guard by some of your witty jokes, you missed how he would let you sleep in his alternate form whenever you dreamt of Decepticons, you missed his rare laughs and chuckles. You really, really missed him. As time went on by, you noticed that even Bumblebee was changing. He grew a bit more mature, but you knew that the responsibility of being a leader was too much for him. He missed Sam, and you did too. Though you two were only neighbors at first, you grew close and became siblings with one another. After his run-in with Cemetery Wind, you knew that he wasn’t coming back. At that point, you were growing hopeless. You tried getting along with Hound, Drift, and Crosshairs throughout the years, but you were too tired to hold up a conversation with them. Luckily, they reluctantly accepted you as a comrade.

As everyone was changing, you noticed that so were you. You were no longer joking around as much as you used to. You became quiet and serious. Yes, you would still give out encouragement and words of optimism to not let the flame of hope die out, but lately, it started to feel and sound fake. Were you trying to convince the others to not give up or were you trying to convince yourself? For the majority of the last 5 years, you tried believing that Optimus and Ratchet were still alive, just in hiding. Your poor heart simply couldn’t handle the weight of indescribable sorrow if news broke out that the two were gone. You’ve already witnessed Optimus die once and you couldn’t do that whole thing again. Hope was something that you needed but it started to become something that you could no longer grasp. When your dying flame of hope was at its last breath, that’s when he came in. The voice you haven’t heard in a very long time.

“Calling all Autobots. Calling all Autobots.”

It was Optimus Prime, calling from the radio. Bumblebee abruptly stopped the drive, causing you to almost hit your head against the steering wheel. After you hissed out his name, you turned to the radio in disbelief. Were you hearing things or was this reality? Bee then started to mess the radio until Optimus’s message was playing on repeat. No. Way. This was actually happening. You didn’t even have time to gather your thoughts before Bee started redirecting his coordinate and driving to where his leader was located, at full speed. Your heart was pounding and you were starting to feel the adrenaline rushing in. Reality still had yet to sink in. Everything was starting to get overwhelming, even if only a couple of moments had passed by. This was real. This had to be real.

You clutched your stomach and nibbled the bottom of your lip. This was supposed to be a great thing and it was! Then why did you feel sick to your stomach? You’ve heard of people throwing up from nervousness. Was this what you were feeling? Why were you nervous? You wanted to see him, absolutely! But after all this time, after all these years, were you even prepared? What if it was just a false alarm and you would get trapped by Decepticons or any other enemies? What if Cemetery Wind had already got him and tried to use him as bait? That last thought had almost made you puke right then and there. Whether you were ready or not, it was time. 

You watched as the rest of the team had already met up with Optimus. The color of his alternate form made you stare at him with wide eyes as all the memories of you two together flashed for a second. Your jaw slightly dropped open and so many things ran around your mind. You were so out of reality that you hadn’t even noticed Bumblebee already transforming out of his alternate form and perching you on top of his shoulder. As he walked towards him, you watched Optimus’s transformation one last time and as always, it never ceases to amaze you and put you in a trance.

“Humans have asked us to play by their rules. Well, the rules have just changed.”

His deep voice filled your ears and for the first time, you relaxed. You could never forget what he sounded like, even during your darkest moments when you had tried to forget in an attempt to get rid of the pain that tore your heart to shreds. Words could not do justice to how you were feeling at this exact moment. The moment when you were finally reunited with your long lost guardian. Bumblebee gently let you down from his shoulder and as the team argued and bickered, all you could do was stare and not move. If this was a dream, then you never wanted to wake up. After an eternity of staring, Optimus’s optics met with your [e/c] orbs and you swore that you saw his breath hitch. 

You weren’t the only one that was worried. During Optimus’s time away from the team and trying to stay hidden, there was not a single thought where he would not worry about you. He always wondered if you were okay and...still alive. It broke his spark every time he imagined that you were dead, six feet underground. Or worse yet, if no one had even known where your body was. He thought that once he would get out of hiding, and he knew that he would one day, the first thing he did not want to hear was that you were either found dead or missing. He hoped that you were out there, having a good life and spending your time in university. Until he went to slumber, until the day that he would be found by Cade Yeager, he yearned for the day where he would get to hear your jokes one last time.

Here you were. Alive and still moving with Bumblebee and the others. His expression softened ever so slightly and he felt a big weight being lifted off of his shoulders. He took a long moment just looking at you. You’ve certainly grown and he knew that you were no longer the bratty teenager he grew to love. Sadness washed over him when he realized that he didn’t get to see you grow up as he was absent for the past 5 years. Questions went in and out, but they were going to have to be asked later. He gave you an ever so slightly ghost of a smile and a small nod.

We can talk later.

You snapped out of your trance once Crosshairs and Hound pointed their guns towards the strangers that you had failed to notice earlier. A young lady, a man who seems to be her father, and another boy.

“Stop, Hound- both of you! They’ve risked their lives for mine.”

For a long time, you stood in the same spot Bumblebee had put you. It was like you had forgotten to move. But once you started to walk towards Optimus and the three strangers, each step made your knees feel weak. Nothing was fully sinking in, yet you continued on. You held out your hand towards them and went on to introduce yourself.

“Uh, hey there. The name’s Cade Yeager and this is my daughter, Tessa. I assume you’re with the other…’Bots?” The young girl next to him gave you a shy smile and a small wave before the boy came in.

“Oh and I’m Shane, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

You shook the three people’s hands and gave a small but welcoming smile. At long last, you finally got to meet some humans that weren’t hunting you down and trying to kill you. It felt so refreshing to interact with someone that wasn't an alien, car transforming robot.

“[Y/N], and yeah, I’ve been traveling with the Autobots for umm...a few years now or so. Also, I just want to thank you for helping Optimus. Seriously, you have no idea how grateful I am, along with the others as well.”

The way you spoke of Optimus’s name gave you a foreign feeling. Later during the straggling years, especially recently, you rarely spoke of his name since whenever you did, it always gave you an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. But now, you were able to say it with ease after knowing that he was okay. Cade gave you a smile and scratched the back of his neck.

“It’s no problem at all, really. I saw the way you looked at him and I’m glad that I could help.”

Optimus stared and observed you during your whole interaction with them. There were so many things to say and so many things to discuss with you. Though as he promised, he would have to do that later. Your hair was a bit of a mess, your clothes were a bit dirty and there were some torn bits here and there from all the battles and run-ins you had with the enemy. If he were to look closer, he would be able to notice scars that have been implanted onto your skin. Gashes, cuts, bullet wounds; they were there. He tore his gaze away from you and looked towards the rest of the team.

“Autobots, we will remain here and recharge for the rest of the day. Once everything is settled, we will discuss further plans with Cade Yeager.”

And so, the whole team went to settle down for the day. To your despair, you had little time with Optimus to discuss pretty much everything that had been going on. He had wanted to talk to you as much as you wanted to talk to him, but he was already occupied with what Bumblebee, Crosshairs, Hound, and Drift wanted to tell him. All the reports and notable news about Cemetery Wind and some bickering between the team. Meanwhile, you tried to distract yourself by helping the Yeagers and Shane set up a camp. Drift had been more than helpful by chopping wood from nearby dead trees with his blades. Before you knew it, night had fallen. Hound was able to set a campfire by using measures that were too extreme for your taste. You sat down beside Bumblebee, staring into the crackling fire. You quietly listened to the conversation that was going on beside you. The Autobots spoke of any possible refugees that had come within the years while Cade was being the typical overprotective dad. That almost made you chuckle. It reminded you of your father whenever he saw you hanging out with a potential love interest. God, when was the last time you had even thought about your parents? You wondered how they were doing and if they were still kicking. You wondered that if you were ever to come back to them, would they ever forgive you for running away and scaring them to death? Your heart ached as you thought more about them. If you could just give them one message that told them that you were okay, that would be enough.

Suddenly, you looked up when you heard Drift talking shit about Bumblebee once again. Almost simultaneously, both you and the giant yellow robot rolled your eyes before he stood up from his seat and approached the giant blue robot.

“He’s like a child.”

“This child is about to kick your ass.”

“He brings us shame.”

It didn’t take long for the two to start brawling. You crossed your arms and legs and sighed as you watched the two of them getting it on. Normally, you would’ve tried to stop them and diffuse the situation, but you were just too tired. Too much has happened in one day and you deserved some rest. Plus, Optimus was here now. He could handle them. Then, you noticed the three other friendlies move towards your side, taking a couple of steps back behind you. You heard the girl Tessa comment on what was wrong with them. Ironically, that was your first thought that came into mind when you first met the refugees. Glad that you weren’t the only one.

“Lockdown is hunting us and humans are helping. We need to know why.” Optimus spoke.

“Listen, I don’t know why, but I have an idea about who.” Cade replied.

That led to you watching a couple of clips that he managed to snatch from a drone. Just as you thought that things couldn’t get worse, it did. You watched as Ratchet and Leadfoot had met their demise by the humans attacking them. Ratchet...the grumpy medic you became very fond of, one of the very first Transformers you’ve met. All the missions you went with him, all the meddling you had to put up with from him, and all the scolding he gave you because he cared about you. Though you weren’t as close to Leadfoot as you were with Ratchet, you knew that he was a good ‘Bot. Two of your closest friends, down and out. Ratchet and Ironhide, both who never got to peacefully pass away. You hung your head low as you rested your elbows on top of your knees. Your hair fell in front of your face as silent, bitter tears fell to the ground below you. “Savages” as Hound had called him. And he was right, that was the exact word that  had described how the humans were in the footage. Ratchet had even begged that he was a medic and an Autobot. Your blood continued to boil even once the footage was finished playing. 

Quickly, you wiped away the tears by harshly jabbing your knuckles into your eyes and looked towards the others as they continued to discuss what was happening. Cade mentioned that the headquarters were located in Chicago and had offered to help them with the mission. He told how if he didn’t help them, then they wouldn’t be able to get their normal lives back. Funny thing was that once you’ve associated yourself with the Autobots, there was no way your life was going to fully revert back to its normal self. You and Sam knew that all too well.

“Autobots, I have sworn to never kill humans,” Optimus said, “but when I find out who’s behind this, he’s going to die.”

This old robot always manages to catch you off-guard. In all the years you’ve known him, you have never heard him say anything with a threatening voice. A scary one, in fact. To you, he was the calmest person you knew. Calculated and dangerous, but he was calm. He defined a true leader. But he was going to kill humans? Just before he declared that statement, he admitted that he swore to not kill humans. You knew that he was enraged with what Cemetery Wind and KSI had done to his close friends and you didn’t blame him for wanting to kill someone responsible. It just seemed so off; so out of character. It was jarring.

[silkling]

Silkling, I really love your writing. Could you please write a TFA fic of Isaac and Bulkhead bonding over growing up on farms?

You know, I always forget Bulkhead grew up on a farm. But I would be thrilled to! I hope it’s to your satisfaction!

———————————————————————————————————

Bulkhead was painting again. That in and of itself wasn’t something new. He painted a lot. What made this time different was that he was alone at the base. Sari had taken the others to something she’d called a “theme park”. He didn’t understand exactly what a park had to have to be called a theme park, but she’d told me it usually involved lots of things called “rides” and lots of games. He also didn’t understand how a ride could be fun, but then again he didn’t know what a ride was. He had a feeling that the way Sari used it, these “rides” weren’t the kind of ride that was defined by the dictionary definition of the word. She had also, helpfully, said that theme parks were always popular and the funnest part of the “rides” was the screaming. He had opted out at that point, being more confused by what exactly that weird park entailed. So, here he was. At the base, alone and painting with peace and quiet.

He rather liked it, actually. He knew Bumblebee didn’t understand, but it was moments like this Bulkhead found himself really getting Prowl. Stillness and quiet could be nice, sometimes. He was intending to do a big project today, wanting to take advantage of the rare peace to be found in their make-shift home. The others had said they’d be gone all day. He wasn’t expecting them back till close to sunset.

So when he heard a voice from the front of the base, he was rather startled. Thankfully, he didn’t ruin his painting as he jerked, and he sighed in relief before dropping the brush in the water pot. Then he turned to the voice, head tilting as it called out again. Oh, wait. He knew that voice! The large bot lumbered towards the unexpected guest, and as soon as the smaller form came into view his engine let out a soft churr of greeting.

“Hey, Professor Sumdac.” he said contentedly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The human had turned at the sound of approaching pedes, his gaze locking on the Autobot at the soft rumble of his engine. He blinked rapidly, not having expected the largest of their alien guests to be the one to greet him. He would have thought it would be Optimus, or perhaps Bumblebee. Still, it wouldn’t do to be rude. He may have had more humble beginnings than most of his wealth, but his mother had taught him manners and he intended to use them. Besides, Bulkhead had been polite enough to come out and greet him, even though he was technically intruding on the gentle giant’s own home.

“Good afternoon, Bulkhead. It is very nice to see you. I apologize for the intrusion, but I was looking for Sari. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you?” he asked hopefully.

Bulkhead only blinked a few times, looking a little surprised. “She took the others to something she called a theme park. I stayed behind. Screaming for fun doesn’t really…sound good. I’m surprised she got Ratchet to go.” he paused. “Actually, that may be because I’m pretty sure she has blackmail on him.” he added, as if to himself. Then he seemed to remember the point of the question, and he frowned at the older human. “She didn’t tell you?”

“That she’s going to a theme park or that she’s blackmailing senior alien robots?” Isaac said dryly. “She told me neither of those things.”

Bulkhead smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Professor.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m certain she would have found a way to the theme park either way. I do wish she would stop skipping her lessons, though.”

Bulkhead blinked. “I suppose. You’re very patient with her. On Cybertron, if a youngling consistently misbehaves than their creators wouldn’t be as patient.” he said offhandedly.

Isaac blinked. “Youngling? Is that your word for a child?” he asked. Then the second part of the statement caught up. “Ah, pardon me for asking, but what are “creators”? I was under the impression you are living robotic organisms, not built by someone else.”

Bulkhead hummed. “Yeah, youngling! I’m one, technically. Though I’m closer to being considered a fully grown mech than Bumblebee. I’d be considered the equivalent of a 16 year old human?” he said, running the calculations in his head. “Yeah, somewhere in that range. Bee is the equivalent of a 13 or 14 year old.” He was pretty good with math. His numbers were mostly right, or at least close enough for his point to be understood.

Isaac was staring. “You and Bumblebee…are not yet adults?” he seemed stunned.

“Nope!” Bulkhead was cheerful. “Bossbot and Ratchet are. Prowl is too, I think? He’s really private but I’m pretty sure he is. He’s older than Bossbot is, anyway.” he smiled, humming to himself. “I actually think Prime is only just considered a proper mech? Like, uh….between 19 and 21 in humans terms?” he tapped his chin with a finger, only just then noticing the open mouthed gape the professor was sending him. The large bot squirmed, uncomfortable. “Professor?”

Isaac snapped his mouth shut with a audible click, then shook his head. “You and Bumblebee-“ he cut himself off, shaking his head again before he kept speaking. “You are not yet adult on your world?” he repeated, still internally flailing over that revelation.

Bulkhead blinked. “Well, no.” he said, tilting his head. “Why?”

“Because if you’re still so young you shouldn’t have been allowed off the planet!” Isaac answered, his hands flapping with his distress.

The Autobot frowned. “Well, I’m close enough to being an adult that I’m considered capable of any type of non-combatant work. When I flunked out of the Academy that left space bridge repairs.” he said. “My creators were fine with it cause they were sure I’d be staying in Autobot space territory, and since they know how well I know space bridges they weren’t actually worried about me being in danger.”

“What about Bumblebee? You said he’s even younger than you!”

“Ah….” Bulkhead hunched his shoulders. “Bee, um. He doesn’t have creators. He wasn’t cold-forged, which means he wasn’t just placed in a protoform after Vector Sigma spat out his spark, but he was a abandoned at a Youth Center as a sparkling. A, uh, a baby.” Bulkhead explained awkwardly. He squired at the probing stare. “Please don’t make me explain Cybertronian reproduction differences. Ask Ratchet.” he said desperately. He did not want to have that discussion.

Isaac sighed. “Oh, very well.” he agreed. He didn’t want to make Bulkhead uncomfortable, after all. “So, creators…I gather they are the equivalent of human parents?” he tilted his head. “Would you mind telling me about yours?”

Bulkhead perked up. “Yeah!” he confirmed. “My creators were real proud when I joined the Academy. I’m lucky they weren’t disappointed that I flunked out. They understood.” his gaze went soft and fond. “I do miss them. I know they were a little sad I didn’t want to continue on with the family business like my older brother, but…” he shook his head. “Breakdown didn’t mind staying at the farm. I always wanted more.” he sighed. “Roadbuster and Beachcomber, my creators, were just happy I was getting the chance to do something I wanted.”

Isaac stilled. “Farm?”

“An energon farm!” Bulkhead supplied cheerily. “The farm was built on top of a really big underground energon spring. Our job was to extract it, purify it, then refine it into different grades and types of energon to be shipped out to the rest of Cybertron.” He shot a fond look around the building. “This place reminds me of the energon refinery on the farm, actually.”

Isaac blinked. “You grew up on a farm.” It was a statement.

Bulkhead frowned. “Didn’t I just say that?”

Isaac smiled. “I grew up on a farm as well, Bulkhead.”

The Autobot’s eyes quite literally lit up at that little tidbit, and he shot a glance at the small lounge area they’d put together. “Sit?” he asked hopefully. “I’d like to know about earth farms.”

Isaac nodded, leading the way and taking a seat on the himself couch while Bulkhead sat himself on one of the odd tire seats. “It was a dairy farm, primarily.” Isaac smiled. “My family raised cows for their milk and sold it to stores and at farmer’s markets.” he sounded fond as he reminisced. “We also made our own cheeses. I still have the recipes!”

Bulkhead tilted his head. “What happened?”

“I…” a pause. “I was always good with machines. I suppose that I, like you, wanted more. So I went to school for robotics and then, well…” he put out his arms. “Here I am.”

Bulkhead hummed. “…I miss the farm sometimes. Even if it was annoying to have to get up so early.”

“Ah, yes. Early mornings.” The human groaned. “I remember those. I despised them. Especially when I had cleaning duty for my morning chores.”

Bulkhead made a look it disgust. “Tell me about it. Cleaning out the energon purifiers and refiners was the worst job on the farm, but I always got stuck with it cause I was the youngest.”

Isaac hummed. “I remember the smell, even years later.”

“I remember the slime.”

He paused, unsure if he wanted to know. “…slime?”

Bulkhead nodded. “Yeah, see, when energon is being refined and when it’s being purified, the process involves removing unwanted contaminates or components at a base level.” he tilted his head. “The finished product comes out looking fine, but then it leaves a very thick, sticky slime on the insides of the machines that has to be cleaned out.” He grimaced. “I really preferred the work of extracting the raw stuff from the spring. It was really hard and labor intensive but at least it wasn’t slime.”

Isaac found himself grinning. “I was much the same with the cows. I detested mucking out the barn, so much so that I would prefer to do twice my share of the milking. That was dull work, but at least I could plan out blueprints for my projects in my head while I worked.”

Bulkhead found himself humming softly. “I liked the farm. I would have been happy there, I think. But…”

“It wasn’t what you wanted to do with your life.”

He grinned. “Yeah.” he paused. “I do miss the songs, though. And my brother, though Breakdown is probably annoyed that I missed so many calls. I miss my creators too.” he frowned. “I hope they don’t think I’ve offlined. I was in stasis for a while.”

Isaac softened, sighing and feeling something fond well up in his chest. “I’m sure they held out hope. Speaking as a parent…well, I don’t think I’d ever stop hoping if Sari were to go missing.”

Bulkhead glanced up, then smiled faintly. “Thanks, Professor.”

“You mentioned something about songs?” he asked with a smile in return, hoping to shift to topic in order to cheer up the green bot.

“Yeah!” Bulkhead brightened. “My creators had old songs that were passed down from their creators, and that they taught us. Whenever we were all working together we’d sing!” he seemed fond as he recalled the memories. “It was always really nice. When we were singing, I almost wouldn’t mind cleaning duty.” he shuddered. “Almost.”

Isaac barked a laugh. “I see! My family never had any songs, but we had recipes we shared and cooked together. We would all make dinner together after a hard day’s work. Those were my favorite moments of the day.” he sighed.

“Your parents must be proud of how far you’ve come.” Bulkhead mused.

Isaac smiled sadly. “They’re dead, Bulkhead.”

“Oh…” he reset his vocalizer. “I’m sorry.”

The human sighed. “It is alright. I have had time to mourn and grieve. And you are right. They were very proud. My father was proud even when I left the farm. He was happy to see me trying to pursue a better life. My mother was disappointed that I would not carry on the family legacy.” he sighed and tilted his head up. “But she did come to terms with it. In the end, she was happy for me and proud of all I’d accomplished.” He glanced at the Autobot, considering. “I own the farm now, though I no longer work there and I have far fewer cows. One of my cousins stays there when I am not to take care of the few cows there are, and I return with Sari during holidays sometimes.” he shot Bulkhead a warm grin. “In fact, I was going to bring her there again for the upcoming Fourth of July. Perhaps…you would like to come as well? I can show you life on a human farm in person.” he offered.

Bulkhead almost seemed to vibrate with glee at the prospect. “I’d like that a lot, Professor! And hey, if you’re ever on Cybertron, I’ll show you may farm!” he said brightly.

Isaac laughed, loud and free. He doubted that he’d ever see the alien planet, but the sentiment was still very nice. “I’d like that very much, Bulkhead. Thank you.”

Just then, he heard the sound of approaching engines, and when he looked towards the door he realized he could see the sun setting. Goodness, he and Bulkhead had been talking for hours. As the other bots stopped and transformed, Sari hopped out of Bumblebee before he did so and froze when she saw her father.

“Uh, hiiiiii, dad!” she squeaked.

Isaac sighed. “Sari, you should have told me where you were going! I was worried about you!” he scolded. “Come, we’re returning home. It’s getting late and I have the feeling you haven’t had proper food all day.” he said.

“But dad-!”

“No buts! The car is outside. Go, please.”

She groaned and grumbled, but after a quick goodbye to the others she obeyed.

Isaac turned to Bulkhead, smiling. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, Bulkhead. I enjoyed it.”

Bulkhead, for his part, merely beamed in response. “You’re welcome! I had a lot of fun! It was great to learn more about you, Professor Sumdac!”

Isaac smiled. “Please, Bulkhead. You can call me Isaac.” he said warmly.

The Autobot blinked a few times, and before smiling even more brightly. “Right. Isaac.”

Isaac grinned in response. The young bot’s joy was positively infectious. “I would enjoy talking further another time, Bulkhead. For now, I must take my leave. Goodnight!” he said, before walking out the door.

Bulkhead waved. “Goodnight, Isaac!” he called.

When the sounds of the human car had faded into nothing, Bulkhead turned to find everyone else staring at him. He smiled at his teammates, standing from his seat. “Hey guys! Did you have a good day?” he asked. Then he realized he had forgotten his painting. “Awe, scrap. You can tell me about it later! I have to go!” And then he was gone, hurrying to see if his art couldn’t be saved.

Even if it couldn’t, he didn’t mind. He’d gained a new friend today, and that was worth a thousand paintings in his optics.

Back in the main room, Bumblee could only stare after his friend. “Uhhh…what was that all about?”

———————————————————————————————————

And there it is! I hope you liked it! I gave Bulkhead a family because I wanted to, and yes his big brother is Breakdown. That means his brother-in-law is Knock Out. Ratchet is horrified when he learns this. Roadbuster and Beachcomber are very worried for their youngest. They were told he’s dead but like Isaac said, a parent never stops hoping. The team is currently very confused about what they just witnessed.

Also, poor Ratchet. Sari will never let go of her blackmail on him. How does a child get blackmail on a millions-of-years-old giant alien robot? It’s Sari. You could tell me she convinced Megatron to agree to peace purely by annoying him and I’d believe you. I love her. :D Anyway.

Until next time, folks!